#and it’s the sort where you can get a can for like 2 quarters or whatever

[solarmorrigan]

Hands Where I Can See Them, Part 4

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

The only thing Eddie is dreading as much as Steve’s return for his things is Wayne’s inevitable question about where Steve is at all.

After all, Steve has practically been living with them for weeks – something that Eddie may not have allowed himself to consider the significance of, but which Wayne cannot have failed to notice. Though Steve had (apparently) felt the need to do things around the trailer to stay in Wayne’s good graces, he really didn’t have to worry about it; Wayne likes him, and he’ll be asking sooner or later just where Steve has gone.

‘Sooner’ comes two nights after Eddie royally fucks things over. It’s Wayne’s night off, and there’s really no avoiding him; their new trailer is bigger than the last, but it’s still close quarters, and Eddie gets caught when he passes through the living room to get a drink from the kitchen.

“Noticed Steve isn’t here tonight,” Wayne says, blunt as hell, because he doesn’t see the point in doing things any other way.

“Nope,” Eddie says shortly, grabbing a glass from the cabinet and filling it from the tap.

“Wasn’t here last night, either,” Wayne goes on.

“He was not,” Eddie confirms.

“Wasn’t here when I got in yesterday morning,” Wayne says.

“You are a veritable font of observation tonight,” Eddie says, only a little snarky.

Wayne shrugs. “Hard not to notice when he’s here nine days out of ten, then suddenly up and disappears,” he says. He pauses a moment before adding, “Stuff’s gone from the bathroom, too.”

Eddie occupies himself with slowly swallowing down half his glass of water before he answers. “Yeah.”

“Don’t suppose he’s going on a trip,” Wayne doesn’t quite ask, and Eddie lets out a bitter sort of laugh.

“Loving the optimism from you, but no, not… not so much.”

There are a few beats of silence, and then Wayne lets out a slow sigh. Eddie knows him well enough to understand the sound of it – he’s just decided to get involved.

“You two have a fight?”

“Something like that,” Eddie mutters.

“Well that’s vague as hell, son. You have a fight, or didn’t you?” Wayne prods.

Slowly, Eddie shakes his head. “No, I– I don’t think so. I think it was all me,” he says, finally looking up from his glass and meeting Wayne’s questioning gaze. “I fucked up, Wayne.”

There’s no immediate judgement coming from Wayne, no suspicion or scorn, not even a shake of the head and some variation of “Of course you did.” There’s only a measured sort of curiosity in his stare, the same way it’s been since Eddie was a kid and Wayne was trying to figure him out; it’s sort of comforting in its familiarity, in its neutrality.

“You wanna tell me about it?” Wayne asks.

Eddie knows that if he says no, Wayne will let it go. He might keep sending curious and worried looks Eddie’s way, he might ask a few more prodding questions over the next few days, but he won’t make Eddie say anything he doesn’t want to. And Eddie doesn’t really want to – but he thinks that maybe he needs to.

“If… you had to define mine and Steve’s relationship, what would you say?” Eddie asks after a moment.

Wayne cocks an eyebrow at him. “I’d say that feels like a trick question.”

Eddie lets out a little huff of a laugh. “It’s not, I swear. I’m seriously curious,” he says. “There are no wrong answers – go.”

“Well,” Wayne says, still eyeing Eddie consideringly, “I don’t know if you kids put labels on things these days or what, but from the outside, I’d say you’re dating. I’d say that boy is fully in love with you and that you’re at least halfway to loving him back.”

“Right.” Eddie gives a jerky nod. “Seems like that’s what pretty much everyone thinks.”

“But that’s not what’s going on,” Wayne takes a guess.

“Well, that depends on your perspective,” Eddie says, a little high and tight.

“Well, the only perspectives worth a damn here’re yours’n Steve’s,” Wayne shoots back. “So what would those be?”

Eddie drains the last of his water, turning away to put the glass in the sink. “Steve… shares your perspective. Or, uh– he did. But I… I didn’t realize he was so serious. I thought we were just kind of messing around.”

The silence from behind Eddie is so thick that he can’t help but finally turn around and meet Wayne’s gaze again.

“That’s a hell of a blind spot, Ed,” Wayne says simply, and Eddie folds in on himself a bit, crossing his arms over his chest. His main defense has always been to become larger than life – to make big gestures and even bigger speeches, but everything about this situation makes him feel like nothing so much as small.

“Yeah,” he says quietly.

“So, what, you figured out how serious he was and thought you didn’t want that?” Wayne asks, and Eddie hunches a little further in on himself.

“Nope. No, that– would’ve been better, actually. If that’s what happened. But that’s not what happened, because did I mention I fucked up? Because I seriously fucked up.” Eddie’s rambling is stemmed by an expectant look from Wayne. “It’s just – the other night, when the guys were over, we got to talking about it. The whole… me and Steve thing. As in, they thought me and Steve were a thing. And they asked me about it. While Steve was out of the room. And then he, uh. Hm.” Eddie rubs a hand nervously over his chin. “He walked back in when I was in the middle of telling them that he's just a friend and that we’re just having fun. And that’s… when I found out how serious he was.”

“Eddie…”

“I know. I know!” Eddie doesn’t even have to look at Wayne to catch the disappointment coming off of him, so he doesn’t. He scrubs hands over his face and then just leaves him there, telling the rest of the story to his palms. “He was so fucking upset, Wayne, I think– I think I actually made him cry? And the only reason he hasn’t been here to get the rest of his stuff out of the trailer yet is because he was down with a migraine the next day. Like, I hurt him so badly I made him physically ill. So I didn’t just fuck up, but I’m actually a horrible human being and should probably spend the rest of my days living in isolation so I don’t ruin anyone else’s life.”

Wayne is silent for so long that Eddie is eventually forced to peek out from behind his fingers.

“You’re not gonna tell me how bad I fucked up?” Eddie asks, still a bit muffled.

“Seems like you have that covered already,” Wayne says, then he holds up one arm in offer, nodding towards the empty spot beside him on the couch. “C’mere.”

He doesn’t need to ask Eddie twice. No matter how old he gets, Eddie doesn’t think a genuine hug from his uncle will ever stop being comforting, and regardless of whether or not he thinks he actually deserves it right now, he’s going to take it. He crashes down onto the couch and leans heavily into Wayne’s side, sighing as Wayne wraps his arm around his shoulders.

“You’re not a bad person, Ed. You made a mistake, s’all,” Wayne says, and Eddie scoffs.

“Pretty big fucking mistake,” he mutters.

“Yep, that was a doozy. You hurt someone you care about, and you might not be able to fix it all the way. But that doesn’t make you terrible. Makes you human.” Wayne gives Eddie a comforting squeeze. “And Steve ain’t a bad person, either. He’ll know you mean it when you tell him you’re sorry.”

“Yeah,” Eddie says quietly.

“You think about what you’re gonna do when he does show to get the rest of his stuff?” Wayne asks.

“Besides grovel?” Eddie shoots back.

“I mean, what’re you gonna grovel for?”

Eddie lets out a long breath. “I… I know I might not be able to fix it, but I just – I want the chance to try. I’m hoping he’ll just give me that chance.” Eddie pauses for a moment, choked by the dread of the thought that Steve might not give him that chance. “Things don’t have to go back to the way they were, but I at least want him to know that even if I’m shit at showing it, I do care.”

“Sounds like a decent place to start,” Wayne says.

“Think so?” Eddie asks.

“Mm.”

“Well… I hope Steve thinks so, too.”

Wayne gives his shoulders another squeeze and says nothing more, but he doesn’t really have to. He’s already settled Eddie’s nerves more than he’d thought possible; just this is more than enough.

Now Eddie just has to try to hold onto the feeling long enough to talk to Steve.

-

It turns out, Eddie doesn’t have to hold onto the feeling for very long at all; the very next morning—two days after Robin had read Eddie the riot act and left him to begin tentatively planning—another knock comes at the door.

It’s ten in the morning – not as early as Eddie had expected, but early enough that he’s not long out of bed when he opens the door to find Steve on the other side.

In contrast to Eddie’s sweatpants and t-shirt, Steve looks like he’s trying very hard to look like he’s alright. His polo is clean and tucked in, the collar is straight, his hair is as perfectly styled as ever – but there’s still something off. There are dark circles under his eyes, stark against a paler than normal complexion, and none of the ease or contentment that Eddie has grown used to shines from his face. He feels a little like he wants to mourn its absence.

“Hey,” Steve says, nodding in greeting.

“Hey,” Eddie says back, because for all his thoughts and planning, he hadn’t really considered how to start this encounter.

“I came to get my shit out of your way,” Steve says, and Eddie frowns.

It’s not in my way, he wants to say. You’re not in my way. Leave your stuff. Stay.

“Uh. Yeah, sure,” Eddie says instead, stepping aside to let Steve in.

Steve is carrying a cardboard box, but doesn’t seem to have anything or anyone else in tow. For as spread throughout Eddie’s life as Steve has become, he wonders if all of him will fit into that one box.

“Kinda surprised you didn’t bring Buckley to help pack,” Eddie says, glancing back out the screen door, as if Robin might appear out of nowhere.

“Just dropped her off at work,” Steve says. “I figured she probably already had… words for you when she picked up my meds, and I didn’t think any of us needed an encore.”

“I don’t know,” Eddie says quietly. “The stuff she said got me thinking.”

In the process of grabbing a jacket he’d left behind off one of the hooks by the door, Steve only glances back at Eddie. “I’m sure she had a lot to say,” he says, carefully neutral.

“Yeah. She, uh – definitely did. Can we talk?” Eddie asks.

Steve sighs. “Eddie…”

“Just hear me out, please. Then I’ll get out of your way and let you pack in peace, I promise,” Eddie says.

“We don’t– have to talk about it,” Steve says, turning back to face Eddie. “Look, I’m sorry for putting my weird expectations on you. I was reading into stuff that wasn’t there, and I made assumptions instead of just talking to you, and that’s on me. So I’m gonna just – get out of your hair, and you won’t have to deal with my stupid, delusional bullshit anymore.”

“No, that’s not– Steve–” Eddie reaches out for Steve as he tries to brush past on his way to the bedroom, where most of his belongings are. He gets a hand around Steve’s bicep and, though Steve doesn’t jerk away this time, he goes stiff and still beneath Eddie’s touch, prompting Eddie to let go.

It hurts; even though Eddie’s done it to himself, the reaction still hurts. He’s always reached for Steve in the past, always had his hands on him, and Steve had always welcomed him, even before they’d started sleeping together. Now, Eddie takes a step back, forcing himself to give Steve some space.

“That’s not what I want to say at all,” he says. “I mean – I would’ve liked if we’d talked about it, because then I would’ve known, and I could’ve appreciated what it was – what we were doing.”

Steve turns back to face Eddie, his gaze snapping straight to him with equal suspicion and confusion. “What?”

“Steve, you weren’t reading into things that weren’t there, you’re not– you’re not stupid or delusional, I was just – I was sending you mixed signals,” Eddie says. “I was so wrapped up in thinking that I knew what was going on, that I didn’t look at what I really had, and I’m sorry. But if I knew, if I’d just gotten my head out of my ass, you have to believe that in a heartbeat, I would have–”

“Don’t,” Steve cuts in sharply.

“Steve–”

“I don’t need whatever this is, Eddie,” Steve snaps. “You don’t need to have pity on your pathetic ex-whatever I am to you, okay? It’s okay, just– just let it go.”

“This isn’t pity,” Eddie insists with an incredulous little laugh. “It’s fucking not, I swear! This is me saying that I fucked up and I hurt you and I want to make it up to you. I haven’t done anything to deserve it, but I want the chance to show you how sorry I am and how much you mean to me– in whatever capacity you’ll let me.”

“Whatever capacity?” Steve stares at him, brows furrowed.

“Whatever you’ll be comfortable with. As a friend, or… as more, if that bridge hasn’t burned,” Eddie says.

“What, so now I’m relationship material?” Steve asks, pointed.

Eddie winces. “I shouldn’t have said that. I shouldn’t have said any of that, and if I could go back in time and slap myself upside the head before I let any of that shit out and hurt you with it, I would. I know that… I know I didn’t pay enough attention to you, but I also wasn’t paying very much attention to how I was feeling,” he says. “Because honestly? I’m kind of a moron, Steve. I’ve never had sex with someone I really liked, with someone who was anything like a friend, and when I started wanting to be around you all the time, and always wanting you within reach, and when every little thing started to remind me of you, I just thought… yeah, this is what friends-with-benefits feels like. Y’know, like a fucking idiot.”

Steve doesn’t laugh. “I don’t know if I can trust you on that,” he says softly, and that’s fair.

It hurts, but it’s fair.

“Then let me earn your trust back. Please, Steve, just… give me the chance,” Eddie implores, doesn’t even care that he’s basically begging – Eddie doesn’t beg, but for Steve, he’ll make an exception. For Steve, he thinks he’ll do just about anything.

Pursing his lips, Steve looks at the floor beside Eddie’s feet for a long moment, and Eddie gives him the time to sort his thoughts out.

“I want to say yes. Part of me just wants to accept your apology and pretend that none of this happened. Just keep going the way we were,” he says. “But I can’t keep doing that – ignoring shit. I just… can’t.”

“I’m not asking you to,” Eddie says. “I don’t want things to be like they were before, I want – I want to be better. I want to do better.”

“How?” Steve asks, both challenging and curious.

“I want to do it right. I want to show you how much I appreciate you, and how much you mean to me. I want to treat you like you deserve to be treated,” Eddie insists. “And if that’s just by being the best friend I can be, then that’s what I’ll do, but I would love—love—if you’d let me romance you.”

That briefly breaks through Steve’s stony façade, and he lets out a huff of a laugh. “Romance me?”

“Shit, yeah. Flowers and chocolates and candle-lit dates – the whole nine yards,” Eddie says with a slow grin. “All the things you’ve given other people but that no one has ever given you.”

“I…” Steve starts, his own humor fading quickly. “I don’t know.”

It’s better than an outright ‘no.’

“That’s okay,” Eddie promises. “You don’t have to know right now. I can wait. I’m a patient kinda guy.”

(That’s an absolute lie, and they both know it, but Eddie will find all the patience in the world if Steve needs time to think.)

Slowly, Steve nods. “I think… Just, give it a couple of weeks, okay? Really think about it, and if this – if I’m something you still want by then, come talk to me again,” he says. “Alright?”

“Yeah.” Eddie nods rapidly. “As much time as you want. I’m not going to up and change my mind. Two weeks, I’ll ask again.”

Steve shrugs, taking a step back towards the bedroom.

“I will,” Eddie promises – not defensive, but certain. He can wait two weeks. He can wait as long as Steve needs him to. Maybe he can take the time to get his shit together.

He does care about Steve. He does pay attention – and he’s going to prove it.

But in the meantime, the only thing Steve has asked for is space, so Eddie gives it to him. He retreats to the kitchen to let Steve pack up in peace, trying hard not to feel bereft at the thought of the gaps Steve will be leaving behind.

If he’s lucky—if he’s very, very lucky—it won’t be forever.

Part 5

-

Tag List (drop me a line if you want on or off the ride): @bushbees @y0urnewstepp4r3nt @gleek4twd @hellfireone @westifer-dead @anne-bennett-cosplayer @starman-jpg @mugloversonly @swimmingbirdrunningrock @alycatavatar @y4r3luv @rhapsodyinalto @vinteraltus @lilpomelito @tillystealeaves @noctxrn-e

I did my best to catch everyone, but there were a few people Tumblr wouldn't let me tag. Sorry if I missed you!

#steddie #eddie & wayne #eddie munson #wayne munson #steve harrington #stranger things #eddiesteve #solar wrote #I write wayne once a year so here's my annual allotted amount I guess #listen you know I love hurt/comfort and I love happy endings but one thing you should never expect from me is consistent chapter lengths #things happen as they happen!

[edenesth]

The Way to His Heart [2]

Pairing: general!Seonghwa x wife!reader

AU: arranged marriage au (Joseon era)

Word Count: 3.4k

Summary: Life has been hell ever since your mother's passing many years ago. Despite being from a prominent family, you've never received the privileges associated with it. It only got worse with the arrival of your stepmother and her daughters. When the intimidating General Park was in search of a wife, your father seized the opportunity to dispose of you, simultaneously securing a connection with the powerful general—killing two birds with one stone.

Part 1 | Fic Masterlist | Part 3

"S-sir, are you truly certain this is acceptable? This is worse than all the previous quarters we've arranged for your past fiancées."

Seonghwa grinned in satisfaction, "What do you mean, Jongho? This is perfect. She will take what she gets. If she's so unhappy, she can go ahead and run back to her dear father for all I care."

Like all his prior marriage candidates, the general had instructed his servants to ready accommodations in the least appealing quarters available in his estate. It was all part of his strategy to intimidate and drive them away. Nothing brought him greater joy than hearing their whiny shrieks of displeasure as they fled his home, rushing back to plead with their fathers to annul the engagement.

Given he had no say in this particular wedding, his only option was to make it as unpleasant as possible, hoping to scare you away. Surely, the words of the minister's precious daughter would carry more weight with her father and, consequently, the King.

Seonghwa counted on you to bring about the downfall of this marriage, "This should be enough to get the job done. Worry not, Jongho. She'll be gone in less than a day, mark my words."

As he observed his master striding off to his study, the assistant shook his head in defeat, glancing unsurely at the preparations made for the daughter of the Minister of Military Affairs. This particular room had remained vacant since the general first assumed control of the estate from its previous owner.

The room had earned the nickname "The Cold Palace," drawing parallels to the infamous residences of China's Forbidden City, where concubines who had made mistakes or fallen out of favour with the emperor were confined until their last days.

According to tales from the previous residents, the room might have even been haunted, with rumours circulating about the previous mistress of the estate taking her own life within those walls.

Leave it to the general to be fixated on the darkest forms of torment, truly living up to his reputation. Oh, he just couldn't wait to see the look on his new wife's face when she would eventually be ushered into her very own cold palace.

"Are the preparations to the master's liking?" Eunsook, the head maid, inquired of Jongho as she emerged from the quarters after ensuring that all dusty areas had been thoroughly cleaned.

The assistant nodded, his lips pressed in a firm line, "He's more than satisfied, but..."

The elderly woman raised a brow with a knowing smile, "But?"

Jongho sighed, "Is this really right? After all, she is about to become the mistress of this estate, and having her reside here, of all places, seems a little too much."

The two could only shake their heads as they cast a final glance at the pitiful excuse for a room. Having been left untouched for decades, the furniture within was mostly rusty or broken in certain places. While it was cleaned on the surface, who knew what sort of parasites or little crawlies had already made their home there.

Despite the possibility of the new Lady Park being a spoiled brat, as the general claimed, the assistant and head maid weren't sure if she deserved this kind of treatment.

"There's nothing we can do for her, Jongho. Now, we best get back to work before anyone hears us or master will have our heads."

The younger man nodded in defeat before they went about their day, uncertain if they should even be looking forward to the arrival of their master's bride on the next day.

"Lord have mercy on her poor soul."

They couldn't fathom any more humiliation that she had to endure beyond what she already had. According to typical traditions, the bridegroom was expected to visit the bride's home with gifts and a dowry, paying respects to the bride's ancestors before escorting her back to his home.

In an attempt to appease the general and ensure the wedding proceeded, the King had agreed to forgo all customary procedures, allowing the bride to travel to his estate on her own. For some mind-boggling reason, the minister had also agreed to these conditions.

"Your Majesty, if you want me to proceed with the wedding peacefully, I will, on one condition." Seonghwa boldly asserted in the assembly where details of his wedding were being finalised.

"What is it, my boy? Anything for you." The King cooed.

The minister straightened in his seat, clenching his fists in fear of the general making any unreasonable requests.

"Please do not expect me to follow through with any of the silly traditions. I will do no such thing. On our wedding day, I will be waiting in my own estate. Minister Jang can prepare his daughter's transportation. If that is viable, I will finally be married as you so pleased, your Majesty."

The King grimaced, throwing the minister a worried glance, "Seonghwa, isn't that a little much? Think about the poor girl—"

To everyone's surprise, your father breathed a sigh of relief, "Is that all, General Park? If so, I do not see much of a problem with it. My daughter is also not a fan of flamboyant celebrations. She favours simplicity, much like yourself. I'm sure she'll be more than happy with the new arrangements."

Sure, you tell yourself that.

The general grinned into his fist, satisfied. That would make her the laughingstock of the century. The King blinked at the unexpected response but beamed regardless, "Does she now? Oh, Seonghwa, I knew she was perfect for you!"

Everyone was happy with the outcome that day, save for you, the unlucky one caught in the middle of all the crossfire, as always.

Jongho remembered how all members of the general's estate servants had been utterly flabbergasted upon learning about the final decision for the wedding plans. They had initially geared up to work tirelessly for their master's first actual wedding, prepared to pour in endless efforts for the grand celebration.

However, they were left appalled by the news. Who would have expected the minister to be alright with such conditions?

Perhaps the importance of solidifying his connection with the great General Park outweighed his concerns for his daughter's momentary embarrassment.

On the day of the wedding, Eunsook stood steadfastly behind her employer, awaiting any orders he might have for her, "Master, is there really nothing else for us to prepare?"

More than the general, nearly every servant felt uneasy due to the lack of decoration as they awaited your arrival. To an outsider, it would seem like just another regular day. Despite the wide-open doors, the estate didn't appear to have much going on at all.

Seonghwa waved her off, sipping on his tea nonchalantly, "Don't make me repeat myself again, Eunsook. This woman isn't worth any of your efforts. Remember, I pay your salary, not her."

"R-right, master." She lowered her head, knowing better than to get on his nerves.

He sighed upon noticing the unusual group of servants lining up by the main hall as if waiting to welcome some distinguished guest, "Don't you all have better things to do? You're all dismissed; get back to your daily tasks if you wish to keep your job."

Shaking like leaves, they all turned to see the head maid nodding at them, signalling for them to do as they were told. Before they angered him any further, all servants dispersed after bowing in unison at their master's direction, "Yes, master."

"Perfect. The minister did mention his daughter favoured simplicity; I'm sure she'll love this." He grinned in amusement, looking forward to the new Lady Park's reaction.

Bowing one final time to your family, you turned and never looked back. Escorted by the kind elderly servant from before, you were led to the palanquin waiting at the entrance of the Jang estate, "This is your ride to the general's estate, young miss."

Surrounded by a throng of people eager to catch a glimpse of the minister's mysterious eldest daughter, you stumbled backwards a bit, feeling overwhelmed. The onlookers were excitedly exchanging the latest gossip about the unusual wedding, where the bride was expected to travel to her new husband's home alone, without a chaperone.

Stepping out of the estate for the first time in more than a decade, you didn't know what to expect. However, this was certainly not it.

As you navigated through the crowd, you reminded yourself of the role you needed to play. Outside the familiar walls of your family estate, you were recognised as the noble eldest daughter of Minister Jang, about to marry the formidable General Park.

You were quite literally the talk of the town.

"Smile, young miss." And you did.

You put on the fakest smile you'd ever worn as you passed by the prying eyes of the onlookers on your way to the waiting vehicle.

As you settled into the palanquin, you looked up to find the servant sighing, ensuring you were comfortably seated for the journey ahead, "Goodbye, young miss. None of us have been allowed to accompany you. You're on your own from now on. Hopefully, the people there will treat you better, the way you truly deserve."

The way you deserved?

You honestly didn't know what that meant.

All your life, you have only ever been treated like a waste of space. So much so that you have begun to believe that was just how things were meant to be. The prospect of being treated with any sort of decency was, at this point, foreign to you.

Nodding, you acknowledged the harsh reality imposed by your father, "Of course, I expected just as much. Thank you, by the way, for the kindness you've shown me. You best hurry back. Don't let them catch you near me, or you'll be punished."

She gave your hand a warm squeeze, "All the best, young miss."

You returned the gesture before the bearers lifted the transport and began walking.

"Goodbye." You whispered, not only to the servant but also to this life you were about to leave behind for good.

With only a thin layer of cloth serving as a curtain on the tiny window of the palanquin, you could hear every word of gossip uttered as you made your way out of this town and to your bridegroom's.

"Oh dear, what a poor thing. Imagine being wedded to that heartless general. He isn't even courteous enough to come take her home. How long do you reckon she'd survive under his care?"

"Can you believe the minister actually agreed to this? Letting his eldest daughter marry in such an undignified way? He seems desperate to get rid of her. Do you think there could be anything wrong with her?"

"She's quite the beauty, isn't she? What a shame no amount of beauty could save her from this ill fate. You guys wanna bet how long before she gets beaten to death by that husband of hers?"

You squeezed your eyes shut, pressing your palms against your ears. You had heard more than enough back home; not only did your stepmother and stepsisters insult you for fun, but most servants were also audacious enough to speak ill of you right in front of your face. You were sick and tired of people talking about you like you weren't there.

The continuous mockery and cruelty had worn you down, and you longed for a reprieve from this life of constant torment.

Why me?

Why is it always me?

Is there really something wrong with me?

There must be a reason why the whole world was constantly out to get you. Why did your mother even give birth to you, only to leave you behind in such a cruel world? What was the point of it all?

Thousands of thoughts raced through your mind, and you wondered if the general truly was as cold-hearted as they say. You pondered what he could possibly look like. They say he was as good as the devil incarnate, but could he really be worse than your family?

You were already convinced that every member of your family was the devil's spawn; you simply couldn't imagine anyone being worse than those people.

With all these thoughts swirling around in your mind, you slowly drifted off to sleep amid your journey from one hell to another.

Your eyes snapped open as you were abruptly awakened by a knock on the palanquin, "Lady Park! We've arrived; it's time to get off. Your father did not compensate us for escorting you inside, so this is as far as our services extend."

Lady Park? Who?

Oh.

It's you.

That's your identity from now on.

Rubbing your eyes, you moved to exit the palanquin. You were perplexed to find yourself at a considerable distance from the entrance of the general's estate.

"Forgive us, ma'am. We hope you can manage the short distance to the estate on your own. We're trying to avoid meeting the general, you know how it is."

You blinked, sensing the immense terror in these men. Park Seonghwa really was something else, wasn't he? Feeling sympathy for them, you nodded, "I... I understand, thank you."

They sighed in relief, scurrying to leave as fast as they could. The reality of your situation began to sink in, and you hesitated before taking your first step towards the looming entrance of your new home. The world you once knew had changed, and you were about to step into the unknown.

As you halted by the front doors, an employee of the estate quickly recognised your outfit, presenting a wild sight – a bride wandering about like a lost sheep.

Approaching you cautiously, one of the men inquired, "Miss Jang?"

You nodded in acknowledgement, "Yes, that's me."

Bewilderment painted his face as he scanned the area, "Are you here alone? Where are your servants and palanquin bearers?"

A gulp betrayed your nervousness, and you lowered your head in shame, "I have no servants with me, and the bearers have left."

His eyes widened, "What?" Quickly regaining composure, he apologised, "M-my apologies, ma'am! My name is Jongho, and I'm General Park's trusted aide. We have been waiting for your arrival. Please, let me take you to the main hall."

At first glance, the assistant sensed you were different from all the other noblewomen he had encountered. It astonished him even more to see you standing there all alone. What in the world was happening? Was the minister aware of any of this? There was no way it could be part of his arrangement. After all, this was his daughter, wasn't it?

As you walked through the estate, you realised the deep bows from the servants were unfamiliar to you. In response, you bowed back, only to receive baffled stares. Your shoulders were hunched, and your lack of confidence was evident.

The unusual exchange did not escape Jongho's notice, and he struggled to understand your odd behaviour.

Nothing seemed to make sense to him.

What was the minister planning? Were you really the eldest daughter? Surely, they wouldn't send an imposter, and even if they did, they wouldn't be foolish enough to make it this obvious. Besides, what reason would they even have to do so? It would mean deceiving His Majesty, the King, too, as the minister had indeed promised his daughter to the general.

As you reached the main hall, the assistant had no time to dwell on such thoughts as he presented you to his master, "Sir, the minister's daughter, your bride, has arrived."

Facing the back of a rather youthful-looking man was not the sight you expected. You truly believed the rumours about him being rough and middle-aged, but now you questioned their accuracy.

"You've made it, wife. At last, you're here." He muttered emotionlessly, moving to set down the cup of tea he cradled in his hands before. The sound of his deep voice sent chills down your spine.

With that, he finally turned around, and you wondered if this was the terrifying general that all of the nation feared. You had envisioned him in various ways, but this was not what you expected.

He was... beautiful.

His features were a perfect blend of masculinity and femininity. His body, too, was ideal, slender yet muscular in all the right places. His ethereal appearance took you by surprise. He was perhaps the most enchanting person you had ever laid eyes on. Granted, you hadn't met many people, given your confined life. Still, you didn't need a broad social experience to recognise that he was a sight to behold.

"Cat got your tongue?" He questioned, a raised brow giving his stoic expression an intimidating edge. You immediately grasped why people found him so fearsome.

Feeling as though you'd committed a grave error, you lowered your head and bowed deeply, your heart beating loudly in your chest, "I-I'm sorry, my lord. I shouldn't have stared; th-that was very rude of me. I thank you for accepting me into your household. I will do my best to make myself... u-useful."

Throughout your life, your family has consistently taunted you for being useless. Now, you wished to change that narrative. If you could somehow prove your value here, perhaps you wouldn't face the same mistreatment that haunted you in your old home. After all, you had only just arrived, you didn't want to be beaten to death so soon.

What in the world?

Seonghwa was rendered momentarily speechless. Undoubtedly, you possessed a striking beauty, the kind that justified your father's decision to keep you hidden for so long. But what puzzled him was the unmistakable insecurity reflected in your posture and the uncertainty in your words.

You were nothing like any of his past fiancées, and he struggled to comprehend the reason behind it. You didn't exhibit the expected haughtiness of a noblewoman from a powerful house. Your apparent indifference to his lack of wedding preparations irked him; he wanted a reaction from you but didn't get one.

What the hell was the minister playing at? Were you intentionally trying to be different? What kind of tactic was this? If the plan was to catch him off guard, it was working very well. This won't do; he couldn't be deterred so easily.

Finally breaking his silence with a scoff, he demanded, "Really now? Useful? In what way?"

You gulped, completely unprepared to provide any sort of elaboration, "I-I..."

He smirked, "Let me guess, your script ended there?"

The accusation threw you into a panic, and you gasped, denying any insincerity, "N-no, that's not—"

Waving you off dismissively, he said, "Save it. I won't buy anything else coming from you. Eunsook, take Miss Jang to her quarters."

Oh no, he hates me already.

« Preview of Part 3 »

"Is all this for me? Are you sure?" You asked in disbelief, gazing in awe at the quarters assigned to you. It was spacious, a far cry from the cramped space that used to be your prison cell.

Eunsook bowed apologetically, "Yes, mistress. I know it might not be ideal, but the master insisted on preparing this specific room for you—"

Shaking your head, you stepped inside, "What do you mean, not ideal? No, this is more than enough. Thank you so much." The room had actual furniture and was even larger than any of your stepsisters' quarters back home. Sure, it wasn't necessarily prettier, but at least it was practical.

The head maid struggled for words as she observed you admiring the interior of The Cold Palace. Were you being sarcastic? It didn't seem like it; you appeared genuinely content. She couldn't fathom why the scene before her eyes almost felt... heartbreaking.

"R-right then, let me help you settle in. Do you have a lot of luggage waiting by the entrance?" She asked politely.

You shook your head, "I-I don't... I'm sorry, this is all I have with me." You showed her the nearly empty duffel bag in your hands, leaving her unsure how to react.

"Gosh, mistress! You have absolutely nothing to be sorry for. Please, uhh... make yourself at home. Just call out to any of the servants around the area if you need any assistance. I'll be here to alert you when dinner is ready."

"D-dinner..?" You croaked, realising you hadn't had a proper meal in who knows how long. You couldn't believe dinner was being prepared... for you. Blinking back your tears, you bowed, "Th-thank you."

"Please, mistress! You don't have to thank me; it's only my job." Panicking, Eunsook bowed even lower before hastily leaving your quarters. She needed to talk to Jongho about your peculiar behaviour. Surely, she wasn't the only one taken aback by it.

Oh my gosh, thank you for 600+ followers! I hope you enjoyed the second part! As always, thank you for reading and let me know your thoughts! <3

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#edenesth #the way to his heart #ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez fanfiction #park seonghwa #ateez seonghwa #arranged marriage au #joseon era #seonghwa x reader #seonghwa x you #ateez fic #historical au

[circeyoru]

I firmly believe that Lucifer thinks reader (unwanted soul) as either his kid or younger sibling by how he threatened Alastor if he hurts them. Also I find it cute if Lucifer makes reader an unlimited page book since he's worried if they got into a too heated battle they won't notice their pages are thinning. I mean if he can make fantastic rubber ducks with amazing abilities, I'm sure he can somehow make an unlimited notepad for reader to use. Or at least he gives reader a new welcome to the hotel gift, and because he hasn't seen them in a while

Also I wanted to add to the if alastor got into heaven version where he's dead and got redeemed. Reader would isolate themselves so much so that Lucifer visits once a week to check them. And when extermination day hits again (if it happens again), Lucifer would force reader to reside in the hotel for their well-being. That's where they meet Alastor in his all angel-looking feature glory. He probably checked on their old house first, when he didn't find them he definitely raged killed some demons on the way. But he still feels some sort of connection that lead him to the hotel where he finally found reader.

(Can you tell how obsessed I'm with this series)

Go to MASTERLIST for the works. This ask is for {Unwanted Souls}.

Ohh, I wonder if you're making Reader too op.

Part 1: Reader's/your gift from Lucifer

Instead of focusing on the book or notebook, let me direct your attention elsewhere. Ever thought about the quill? If you know how a feathered quill looks, you'll get what I mean. A quill essentially needs to be dipped in a jar of ink to write. Did I ever mention Reader/you carrying one or even using one? No. Never was 'ink' even mentioned in the story or the trivia (asks). Because that quill was a gift from Lucifer. A quill created by Lucifer and gifted to you. It's enchanted to be writable without ink and on any surface, with a camouflage mode to suit your preference, last feature is that only you can use it. Why Lucifer gave you a quill is because he knows you don't have to use pages as your surface to do crazy things (summoning weapons and casting spells). You can write on a wall, blow on it and it disappears to do what you wrote. That includes writing on the skin of a demon. If you read the demon design, you'll know what I mean. The writing on pages part was just a handicap you gave yourself and it was convenient for you to carry around a book or even a small pad to write with. Plus, you don't like attention, so you use a book with limits. You know you'll go overboard when your emotions rule over you, so you limit yourself.

Part 2: Yandere Redeemed Exterminator Leader!Alastor (what a long title for him)

For context, check this ask.

You do isolate yourself to the point it is concerning. Because you don't ask for help and you did when you asked Lucifer if he could provide you with new quarters that was far from where you were or the hotel. So many reminders of Alastor around you, you can't take it.

Seeing you in such despair, Lucifer shared with you that the souls in Heaven were granted the gift of forgetting when they entered the golden gates. You got the idea of forgetting the years spent with Alastor, from the point you saved him to the point you rage-killed for him. Lucifer advised you not to, but you were persistent in your plan. You returned back to the old place, scrolling around to make sure nothing was amiss and took in the final sorrow of nostalgia. Then you wrote down your command on your skin, you watched the words sink in and then everything went black.

Here, you were back to normal, save for Lucifer being the only one (again) who knew what happened to you. Not sure if exterminations continue (since no season 2 yet), but say that it does but further apart as a compromise for Charlie to save more souls. Lucifer visits you, but only to check and see if your memories came back, when they didn't for a long while, he didn't come as often.

When Alastor came down to Hell, he went to your apartment first thing. It was extermination day, so you were definitely there. You were sleeping through the day until your charms alerted you that there was someone in your apartment. You summoned a dagger made of angelic steel, creeping to the living room.

The moment you saw the pair of white wings, you ambushed and knocked Alastor down to the ground. You kneel on top of him to keep him down, the blade at his neck. "I'll give you a chance to leave and your head won't go rolling on my floor. You can fly back to your precious paradise and I'll let you."

Alastor's head turned to face you, a complete 180 without trouble, his smile softened as he praised, "My darling, you're beautiful."

"What?"

"Why would I want to leave you? I've done so much to come back to you. I'll never leave you, dear. If you want, I can give you my wings to make up for my absence."

Your face twisted to confusion and disgust. "What? Who are you?"

Alastor's eyes searched your face, his eyes scanned around, some things and items were missing. His signature red that would be mixed into your apartment. It was all gone. Just as he lost his memory, yours was somehow gone as well. "I'm.. Alastor. Don't you remember me, My Doe?"

#Circe's Nighty Writings #alastor imagine #alastor x reader #alastor x y/n #alastor x you #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor headcanons #hazbin hotel fanfiction #alastor #hazbin hotel oneshots #yandere alastor #yandere alastor x reader #yandere hazbin hotel #alastor fanfiction #hazbin hotel imagines #Unwanted Soul

[daytaker]

Hello! I’ve viewed your blog a few times and i really really like the way that you write, so when I learned that asks were i couldn’t help but make a request. Can we get some headcaons of the brothers meeting MC’s family for the first time and already Mama MC doesn’t like any of them because “they took away her baby.” Sorry if this is a little cringe.

But of course!

(Part 2: The Dateables + Luke)

"Mom, Dad, meet seven of my boyfriends."

...is what you want to say, but you know better than to panic your parents and fluster your totally platonic demon friends at a time like this.

And what a time it is. Here you are, surrounded by your parents, an aunt, your grandpa, and your sister, trying to calm your mother down from yet another diatribe about how you can't just get up and leave for a year---I mean, God, the police were looking for you! The police! You realize we thought they'd find your body in the woods somewhere? How could you do this to us?!---when suddenly:

Knock, knock. Knock knock knock knock knock knock. Thud. Thud. Thud.

"MC! Hey MC!"

"Mammon, if they hear you, you'll ruin the surprise!"

You and your relatives stare at the door. Then they all look at you. You give an awkward smile.

"Just give me a minute... I think those are some friends of mine..."

You really wish you lived somewhere besides a one bedroom apartment, but honestly, impossible in this economy. So you don't have anywhere remotely private to tell the brothers to scatter until the dust clears. In fact, the instant you open the door, Asmodeus flings his arms around you and kisses you on the cheek---in full view of your family, mind you!---and Beel shoves a box of half-eaten chocolates into your hand. Then seven voices are all clamoring for your attention at once on one end, and another five behind you. There are thirteen individuals in this tiny apartment, you realize, and you don't even have enough seats for your family to all sit. Your sister's seated on the floor.

"Heyyyyy guys, now's....not a great time...." A smile is plastered to your face as you tip your head in the direction of your extremely concerned parents. "And...seriously? It hasn't been two weeks yet."

Mammon looks confused, then indignant. "What? ...Hey, what the hell? You're already makin' new friends?! We really that replaceable?!"

Lucifer, who stands in the back holding a balloon bouquet with a jarringly serious expression on his face, speaks up. "I believe those are MC's relatives, Mammon. It seems we came at an inopportune time after all."

"Relatives?!" Asmo and Mammon hurry on over to give them all a good look-over, the others curiously observing.

"You're MC's mom, aren't you! Oh, MC! I see where you get your cheekbones!" Asmo gushes as your mother stares at him like he's from another planet. Which he sort of is, in a sense.

"MC? Who are these people?" your grandpa asks with bewilderment and not a small amount of concern.

"They're, um..."

"They're hot." Your sister waves her fingers at the group, and you wish you had perma-died in that attic.

You need to explain yourself quickly. On the spot. You'd already told your family you'd had a bit of a quarter-life crisis and gone backpacking across the country for the year, working through the mental collapse that living in the 21st century inevitably caused, so you ride off of that. These are a ragtag bunch you met on the road, you explain. You'd spent the better part of last year roughing it from the hills of Kentucky to the forests of Washington with these guys, and you'd become incredibly close as a result. You'd lived together, laughed together, loved together, and some of them even tried to kill you on a few occasions.

("'Tried'?" mutters Satan, and Belphie gives him a death glare.)

Under the leadership of the charismatic eldest brother, Lucifer, you'd become so close that it felt as if your very souls were somehow tethered---

"I'm sorry, 'Lucifer'?" Your mom has had just about enough of this. She approaches you with a look of heartbreaking concern in her eyes and cups your face. "....Baby, did you join a cult?"

"Who does she think she is, callin' 'em that?" seethes Mammon under his breath.

"Mammon, she's my MOM."

"Alright, I think I've seen enough." Dad gets up and eyes the boys sternly. "I dunno what you've been doing with my child, but it's gonna stop, you understand? I've got a homicide detective on speed dial because of you clowns."

"Is this where they get their assertiveness from?" speculated Levi to Beel, who simply shrugged.

"Listen, I think you're all just...misunderstanding each other!" Son of Gardonus, where are you even supposed to start? You grab the nearest demon---

(Individual brothers are below the cut!)

Lucifer

"This is Lucifer."

He gives you a look that says 'you really are as stupid as I've sometimes feared'. Why didn't you come up with a fake name?

"That was a joke."

Good, things are still salvageable.

"Because following his instructions is a lot like being in Hell."

He hates you.

"If that's the devil, then call me a sinner," your aunt says, sipping her third glass of wine.

"His real name is Boris."

He hates you so much.

"Pretty well-dressed for a man who spent a year on the road," observes your Mom with undisguised distrust. "Let me guess: while you were out gathering food and panhandling to survive, he stayed indoors doing whatever the hell he felt like doing, and at the end of the day, you'd take everything you'd earned and hand it over to him, and he'd toss you some pittance in return."

"How does she know that?!" Mammon gasps.

You try explaining to your mom that there was no cult, but she hushes you remorselessly.

You beg Lucifer with your eyes not to kill your entire family please. It seems to work.

Mammon

"Mammon, these are my parents. Mom, Dad, this is Mammon. Mammon, say hello."

"Hello. Agh! Dammit! You're really gonna use that now?!"

Oops. Pact magic. It can be a little unpredictable at times. You ruffle his hair apologetically.

The two of you were pretty much inseparable over the last year, you explain. "Best buds, pretty much." He was the first of the group you got close with. Mammon seems extremely proud of this.

"Please tell me 'best bud' isn't a euphemism, MC." Your dad gives you a pleading look. "I don't know how many more surprises I can take today." You two seem far too affectionate and touchy-feely for his liking.

Your sister grins at him from her seat on the floor, which seems to embarrass and confuse him tremendously. He's refusing to look at her. Poor guy. The two of you do look a lot alike...

Levi

"This is Levi."

"Ah, that almost sounds like a normal name. Why Leh-vee, though? Why don't you pronounce it LEE-vie?

"It's short for Leviathan," he says before you can stop him.

Your sister starts cackling and Levi is very embarrassed and indignant but mostly confused.

"Is this like a cult thing?" your aunt asks. "Naming everyone after biblical demons?" She nods and raises her eyebrows, impressed, and lifts her glass in Lucifer's direction.

"And you've been out roughing it in the great outdoors?" your grandpa asks.

"Errrr..."

"Yes, he has."

"Hmm...." Grandpa stares at Levi without a word, and your sister cackles again, and Levi looks like he'll either start bawling or go full demon and kill everybody in a sort of panicked rage. You return him to his brothers.

Satan

"This is---"

"I'm Derek. Nice to meet you."

You side-eye Satan. Apparently he was not taking any risks of you straight up calling him 'Satan' in front of everyone.

Your sister and aunt both look disappointed by this name, which seems to please Satan a whole lot.

"So," your mom says, thinking this little introduction has gotten off to way too friendly a start, "you're another one of MC's... 'friends', are you?"

"Yep," you say, refusing to acknowledge that there was any innuendo to read into.

"How the hell did you get wrapped up in a cult, Derek?" your aunt asks incredulously. "You look like you came straight from a prep school... Or the Ivies, or something. Kid, let me tell you what." She points a finger at Satan without giving him an opportunity to respond. "Let me tell you, you're gonna kick yourself when you're old and ugly and you realize you wasted your time in a cult looking like you were headed to a game of polo."

"You should've given yourself a cool name like those other guys," your sister throws in.

"Guys, please."

"What? At least the other guys had character. Lucifer, the sexy vampire prince, or something. Mammon, the... Is he a himbo or a bad boy?" ("A himbo," you confirm.) "Mammon, the hellish himbo! Leviathan, a literal fish out of water! But him? This guy's just Derek from IT." Your sister blows a raspberry and gives a thumb down. "Next."

Behind you, you hear Lucifer mutter, "Mammon. Levi. Hold Satan back."

Asmo

"This is Asmo. Please don't tear him a new one, he's---"

Your sister shakes her head. "I would NEVER. This guy looks like so much fun. Like, I'm getting shopping all day, clubbing all night vibes, am I right?"

Asmo winks at your sister, and she blushes. She blushes. You're in awe.

"Hellooooo~! I'm Asmodeus, and it's wonderful to meet you all!"

"You're the one that kissed my grandchild," Grandpa recalls, raising an accusatory finger at him.

"But MC loves when I give them kisses! Surely you all understand, right?"

....

"Right..."

....

Motherfucker, Asmo just charmed your family.

Beel

"This is Beel. Beel, this is...everyone."

"Hi. Good to meet you." Beel is very polite, if a bit uncomfortable.

"Well aren't you a drink of water and a half." You hate your aunt so much sometimes.

Beel frowns. "I'd rather have something a little more filling than water."

You see a look in your aunt's eyes and you jump before she has the chance to strike.

"If you say you're on the menu, Aunt Gina, I swear--"

"What's 'Beel' short for?" your mom asks sternly.

"Beelzebub," Beel answers with an adorable but also infuriating level of innocence.

Your sister is cackling again.

Belphie

Hey, where'd Belphie go?

You look around, confused.

Oh. He wandered to your room while everyone was distracted.

He's sleeping on your bed, hugging your pillow. And drooling on it.

Your relatives stand behind you, observing the scene somberly.

"What's he on?" asks your sister in a whisper. "Like... he's definitely on something, right?"

"Freeloader. That goes for the whole lot of 'em. At least this one is honest about it. Just walks in and treats the place like it's his." Your dad is very annoyed.

"He's got narcolepsy," you insist. You don't know enough about narcolepsy to be sure if that seems like a reasonable excuse, but you're counting on your family not knowing either.

"How the hell did you all get around with a narcoleptic?" your aunt asks, elbowing Lucifer in the ribs. "Hah! Oh, MC, sweetie, I need a refill."

When you manage to get the brothers out of your apartment, you turn around and face your family. They're staring at you.

Your sister breaks the silence. "So like... how many of them have you--?"

#obey me #ask response #anon #obey me headcanons #obey me hcs #obey me mc #obey me demon brothers #obey me human world #obey me swd #dthc #straddling between hc and fanfic #obey me fanfic #fanfic #lucifer #satan #mc #mammon #levi #asmo #beel #belphie #gn reader #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me levi #obey me satan #obey me asmo #obey me beel #obey me belphie #family anon

[teddyeyeseddie]

The Cherrywood Motel

Starry Haze, Crystal Ball

rockstar!Eddie x housekeeper!reader

masterlist

(a/n: ITS BACKKKK AND SO AM I!! Enjoy my lovelies and visit my blog for some life updates!)

warnings: soft eddie, smut, minors dni, oral (fem rec), p in v, cream pie x 2, riding, showering together, a jump from last chapter.

now playing:

You lug all your clothes into the laundromat down the street, heaving the heavy bag onto the table before you once you’ve made your way inside. The smell of bleach and laundry detergent mixes in your nostrils as you sort your piles of dirties.

It’s early in the morning, the only person in the place being you and an elderly woman. You enjoy the quiet, only the soft whirring of the dryers breaking the silence.

You separate your lights from darks, throwing your first load in when a familiar voice resonates through the quaint room.

“Shit- fuck,” you look over to see Eddie struggling with a bag of laundry. You chuckle to yourself, your eyes meeting his. His face lights up when he sees you.

“Hey stranger,” he breathes out as he settles in at the table next to you.

“Hi Eddie,”

Ever since Eddie woke up in your bed, things had been different. Eddie seemed happier, his demeanor not so jittery. You talked more, Eddie revealing more about his life.

You learned he was really a dork. Knows a little too much about horror movies, still plans D&D campaigns for fun, and collects mugs from every new place he goes.

He’s become softer, more himself in the last few days. You found yourself getting closer to him, his magnetic force drawing you in with every little conversation.

His captivating personality had you expressing more things about yourself, like your favorite flower, how you got the scar on your shoulder, and all about your childhood cat, Mr. Snuffles.

Talking to Eddie when he was sober was easy, he didn’t go on unnecessary tangents, he wasn’t as flirty and he looked oh so pretty when he was healthy.

His usual red eyes now pure, no sign of distress in them. He even started taking care of his hair, his usual frizzy locks now smooth and curly. He was doing better. You were proud of him.

“Didn’t think I’d be seeing you today,” he says, pulling out all of his clothes and settling them into a pile. He gathers them all in his arms, walking towards a washer.

“Aren’t you gonna sort them?” you ask, chuckling to yourself as Eddie struggles with the large amount of clothes he has in his hands.

“I never do?” he says as if it's almost a question.

“Well, I’m sure you have some 200 dollar shirts in there that are begging to be sorted,”

“My uh- lady at home usually does it. This is how I used to do laundry when I was a kid,”

You roll your eyes, motioning for him to come back to the table.

You sort his dirty clothes for him, it feels pathetic but the smile he has on his face as you help him makes it somewhat worth it.

“You’ve gotta sort lights from darks. I’d suggest separating your whites too but I don’t want you to keel over,”

He chuckles, grabbing the pile of darks and carrying them to a washer. He puts in his quarters, handing you some so you can start the pile of lights.

“So what are you up to for the rest of the day?” he questions as he strolls back to the tables where your clothes still lay.

“Nothing really, apartment hunting for a little bit and then back to the motel,” you gather your pile of clothes, turning towards the washers and placing the items inside. Eddie swoops in front of you and puts quarters in for you, you playfully roll your eyes but smile up at him nonetheless.

“Oooh, that should be fun,” he scratches at the back of his neck, “I uh- owe you for bailing me out so just let me know what you need for the security deposit and I’ll write a check,”

“Thank you Eddie, but you don’t have to. I lost your jacket, I bailed you out, were even,”

Eddie shakes his head, curls flying in all directions at the erratic movement.

“Someone stole my jacket from you, you didn’t just leave it for anyone to take. Plus I can,so let me,” he states, eyes locking with yours in a stare.

“Just let me, it’s the least I can do-” you nod your head, allowing the man to help you pay your way into a new apartment.

A feat that was easier said than done, you had looked at 5 separate places with Christa, none of them being anything close to what you wanted or needed.

You finally decide to call it quits and return back to the hotel, smiling when you see Eddie waiting outside your door with a pizza box in his hand. Christa sends you a wink as you get out of the car, a soft “enjoy yourself” falling from her lips.

Eddie grins widely when he sees you step out of Christa’s car.

“Sorry- thought you were home from your hunting,” he motions towards your car that is parked a few spots down from your door.

“Kinda got stuck at our last place. Creepy landlord,” you straighten out the pleats of your skirt as Eddie sucks in a breath in through his teeth, wincing dramatically.

“At least you dodged that bullet,” he says as he leans against the doorframe waiting for you to open it, his slim shoulders doing a good job at boxing you in. The smell of his cologne makes your mind whir, gone are the days of dried puke and alcohol.

You unlock the door, Eddie’s hand pushing it open forcing you to duck underneath his arm. He lets the door close softly behind him once he is inside, being sure to lock the deadbolt.

He places the pizza box on the small table by the window. He draws the curtains, blocking out the rest of the world and turning the room into a space that was only for the two of you.

“Got your favorite,” he motions to the box with his thumb as he walks up behind you. You’re stepping out of your shoes when Eddie’s arm snakes around your front, under your arm and resting on your collarbone. He’s come over every night since the cleaning fiasco, you talk about the ten-day-whirlwind that the two of you have embarked on and get to know eachother even more.

Eddie spends most of his time apologizing when you recall anything from the short time of knowing him, ashamed of how much he had hurt you.

It’s been a week of take-out, today bringing you to day seventeen. Ten days of hell and seven of something in between a raging fire and a rumbling earthquake- scalding your skin and shaking off the dust settled deep in your soul.

His arm comes undone from you, his hand tracing down your tricep, over your elbow, ghosting down your forearm, finally grasping your hand as he draws you towards the radio sitting in the corner of the room.

Eddie liked to dance- he twirled to what he called your “teeny bopper” music, he swayed his hips to country music, he even danced to his own music when you forced him to listen to it one night.

Eddie danced with you tonight- his fingers fit perfectly through yours, his hand rested right in the dip of your waist, his lips looked pretty in this light.

“Are you thinking about kissing me, sweets?” He questions, a smile forming on his lips as he leans forward. You blush nervously, nodding your head. His smile gets even wider before he leans in, lips capturing yours.

Both his hands come to cup your face, cheeks tugging and eyes crinkled as he leans in further. His other hand comes to rest on your hip, pushing backwards until your knees hit the back of the couch. You pull away, shifting from foot to foot as you wait for Eddie to take the reins. He chuckles softly before capturing your lips in another soft kiss before pulling away and plopping down onto the couch. He pulls you into his lap, kissing the corner of your mouth, then your cheek, then down your neck, all the way to your shoulder.

His eyes meet yours, his hands fumbling with the edge of your sweater. A plea on the edge of his lips as he looks up at you. You nod, letting him remove the garment from your body. He audibly moans at the sight, your breasts bouncing freely only leaving you in your skirt.

“Please tell me you have panties on,” he mumbles, hand snaking down to your center. He bites his lips and groans when he’s met with your sticky folds.

“S’ laundry day,” you giggle.

His fingers trace through your slick, he has half a mind to shove the fingers in your face, make you lick yourself off of him. But When he glances over your face, your pouting lips and furrowed brow send his heart racing. He decides right then that you're an angel. He thinks there’s no way you're real, there is absolutely no way you’re here with him.

He wraps his arm around your waist, standing from his place on the couch. He walks you back to the bed as you kiss up the side of his neck. He lands you on the middle, arms caging you in as he leans down to kiss you. He’s much slower this time, desperate clashing of teeth melting to well thought out movements.

You pull away from him, hands coming to mess with the edge of his old band tee.

“You’re much too dressed for the occasion, Mr. Munson,” you giggle out. He smiles down at you, getting up to strip out of his clothes. You hold your breath when he pulls down his boxers, his cock springing out and slapping against his belly. It’s big and you’re sure he knows it.

He crawls back up the bed, kissing from your ankle to your neck. He splays kisses across your face, finally meeting your lips in a sweet kiss.

His eyes bore into yours as he pushes some hair from your face before kissing you again, but he pulls away much too quickly for your liking.

“M’ gonna eat you out now, kay’?” he mumbles against your lips, you nod, throwing your head back as Eddie begins to kiss back down your body. He stops at the waistband of your skirt, mumbling something to himself before hooking his fingers in the band and pulling the fabric over your bottom.

He moans at the sight of your center, leaning forward to press a kiss to your thighs before diving in completely. He licks from your hole, up to your clit, tongue dancing around the bundle of nerves. Your knuckles grip the white sheets, mind reeling as he works you up to an orgasm. He laps at your pussy, pulling away to spit on his fingers.

His ringed fingers come to push through the sticky mess the two of you have created, one finally pushing in, drawing a guttural moan from your lips. The cold metal of his rings bump against your skin every time he thrusts his fingers in and out. He works you up to three before pulling them out completely, mouth still assaulting your clit, causing you to squeal.

“You ready f’me?” he questions, mouth still between your legs. You tug on his hair, pulling him away from your center, nodding profusely with a smile on your face.

He pushes you further up the bed, settling in between your legs. His cock nudges at your hole, the tip catching inside, you mewl quietly when he pushes in. He leans down, arms settling on either side of your head, his hair tickling your nose as he looks down at you intently.

“So pretty,” You mumble, hand coming up to cup his cheek and draw him into a kiss. He smiles into it, pulling away and admiring the way your face contorts every time he punches that spongy spot inside you.

“S’ all you, sweets,” He moans, forehead pressing against yours as he drives into you. The pace he sets draws moan after moan from deep within you.

Your hand stays cupping his face, kissing him again, your lips barely brushing his when he pulls away.

“C’mon pretty girl, tell me what it is. Wanna know what I should be moaning while I ruin you.”

You shutter a breath out- your name falling off your lips and into the air.

“F-fuck..” he’s full on smiling, his eyes crinkling as he languidly thrusts inside you.

“Eds-Eddie. M’ close,”

“Shit-ok. Where do you want me?” He picks up his pace, cock nudging at all the right places.

“Inside- want you inside,” Your legs lock around his waist, forcing him to bury himself to the hilt as he spills inside of you.

He’s giggling when you finally release him, pulling his still hard cock from inside you and smearing around the mess that has formed between your legs.

“Look so good painted all pretty for me. Could take a picture and look at it all tour long. Would never haveta’ look anywhere else. Just me this little memory and my hand,” he’s pulling your ass cheeks apart, releasing them before his thumb hooks into your pussy as he rummages around on the side table- careful not to knock down the countless polaroids around the camera.

“Can I sweets? Take a pretty little polaroid of this pretty little pussy?” he thrusts his thumb in further, drawing more cum out of you. You giggle when you feel it run down your thighs as you give him a soft hum in response to his question.

He snaps a picture of your most bare area, the idea makes you blush but then there's the idea of Eddie- using it. That makes it feel alright.

“Just wanna take one more,” he says as his cock nudges at your hole again, the puffy skin wanting to scream no but the burn short circuiting your brain at the same time.

He snaps another picture once he’s half inside you, your hands covering your face as you giggle.

“Enough of that,” he says with a small chuckle as he tosses the camera back onto the bedside table. His hands grip your hips as he lazily thrusts into you.

After finally having enough of Eddie’s teasing, you push at Eddie’s belly, signaling him to stop. He flashes you a confused look as he pulls out but soon gets the idea once you scramble off the bed and begin pushing him towards the couch.

He flops down onto the cushions, legs spreading wide. Deft fingers wrapping around your hips as you sink down onto him, your arms snake around his neck and pull at the hair sitting at the nape.

Eddie looks up at you in awe, his eyes never leaving yours as you ride him. His lips are parted, soft breaths and moans tumbling from his mouth.

“Shit- baby I- I can’t last like this-” He groans as he tries to stop your movements. You grab his hand, raising it and placing it on your breast.

“C’mon sweets, come in me again,” He moans sweetly at his own pet name being used against him, his hips stilling once he is settled inside you. He buries his head in your neck as he comes, teeth biting in as he silences himself.

You let him stay inside you for a while, finally pulling off of him when Eddie begins to rub at the skin on your hips.

You’re up on wobbly legs, shooting Eddie a glare when he begins to chuckle.

He throws his hands up in defense and motions to the mess between his legs. Cum has dripped down his balls and pooled in his seat.

“Gonna need to spot clean this one miss housekeeper,” He winces as he gets up, collecting you in his arms and placing a kiss to the top of your head.

“Let’s shower, yeah?”

You nod, taking his hand as he guides you to the small porcelain tub. He turns on the water, testing it with his fingers before stepping in once it has warmed up. He extends his hand to you, thanking him quietly once you're standing before him in the tiny shower.

He takes a step back, moving out of the spray and allowing you to warm up under the water. You take turns getting your bodies warmed up, Eddie finally assuming his position behind you washing your hair.

“You mentioned tour,” you blush as you recall the memory from moments ago. Eddie’s stops scrubbing your scalp and sighs.

“I- I’m leaving,” he says in an almost whimper.

“Oh, when?”

“Two days,”

#eddie x reader smut #eddie series #eddie smut #eddie fanfiction #eddie #Eddie x reader #eddie x reader series #Eddie x reader fluff #eddie x female reader #eddie x reader angst #eddie x y/n #eddie x y/n fluff #eddie munson x reader blurb #eddie munson x fem reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fluff #Spotify

[jacesbeloved]

prettiest of them all

summary: being rhaenyra's lady-in-waiting ever since your mother passed, it was unfathomable that you and jace spent time with each other. however, until when can he restrict himself to just looking at you and treating you as a friend?

pairing: jacaerys velaryon x fem!reader

notes: mild nsfw, wrote this since i'm kind of hitting a writing slump and i don't want to rn so yea wrote this on a whim again 😭 i hope y'all like it,, my peace offering after "remember me, always"

notes #2: also, if it's sort of confusing, basically ur mother is nyra's bestfriend. you and jace were basically born a year apart (jace is older) so when your mother passed, nyra took u under her wing and u and jace are basically childhood sweethearts <3

"I doubt anyone in the seven kingdoms can match your beauty, princess." You pause abruptly, "Or should I say... queen?" The two of you giggle with each other as you lock the necklace on the back of Rhaenyra's head.

The woman steps back from you and looks at her reflection in the mirror, turning slowly. You watched in awe as the woman, who was once as young as you are now, readied herself for the crowning in front of the masses.

When she finishes looking around, Rhaenyra turns to you.

"Shouldn't you be getting ready as well, Y/N?" She asks.

Your forehead creased, and you took a short glance at your statute before turning back at Rhaenyra. "Princess... I'm already dressed," you chuckle lightly at her.

"That isn't the dress I had tailored for you, Y/N," she playfully glares at you, walking to her drawer before grabbing something. You watched with anticipation as you heard the clanking of jewelry inside.

She pulls a beautiful ruby gemstone from it, beautifully placed in the middle of a Valyrian steel chain. You blink three times, your throat drying, when she starts walking over to you.

Rhaenyra saw the confused look on your face, which made her chuckle. "Calm down, Y/N, it's just a small gift."

"B-but... princess-" Rhaenyra shushes you, showing you the necklace up close. "Y/N, your mother was one of the people I hold closest to my heart."

"And when you were just a babe, you were always with me. When she left the world, I took you under my wing and treated you as my own.... Just as I had promised her." She sighs, pursing her lips as she sees your face drop a bit.

She runs her hand through your hair, "As your future queen, as your princess, I command you to accept this necklace. Wear it later, during my crowning." Rhaenyra places the piece of jewelry softly on the palm of your hand. Covering your hand with hers as she cradled your hand.

You turned to look deeply at the princess, lips apart as you nodded, placing your hand on top of hers as well.

"Very well, my future queen." The light-haired woman tenderly smiles at you before withdrawing her hands. "I... I hope you know that I am forever in your debt, Aunt Rhaenyra."

"It's nothing, really, Y/N. Now go change into your dress, I sent someone that would help you put it on." You nod at the older's statement as you were dismissed, a sly smile on her face.

You had walked quickly back to your quarters, excited to see the dress. The necklace was inside of a box that Rhaenyra had also given you, making sure that it wouldn't move much and cause damage as you were skipping through the halls of the Red Keep.

When you arrived in your room, there was a new hanger by your cabinet. You smile giddily, running to the hanger and pulling off the coat only to see such a beautiful dress in red, with laced red lantern sleeves and an off-shoulder neckline where the ruby necklace would sit nicely.

You didn't need someone to help you; with how ecstatic you were about wearing the dress, you wore it as soon as you saw it.

The dress slipped right on, perfectly fitting in everything. It hugged your chest area nicely, and its length was perfect. You could easily tell that Rhaenyra truly did take note of your measurements and style.

When you looked at yourself in the mirror, it was like the air in your body was knocked out of you. You looked so pretty, so elegant.

As you twirled around the mirror, a voice spoke.

"Pardon me for entering your room, but... the strap's a bit twisted," your body turned quickly, eyes narrowing as you were greeted by the princess' son,

Jacaerys.

He smiled tightly as he walked over to you, closing the door. "May I?"

You watched him with awestruck eyes as you nodded, seeing him dressed perfectly, feeling his fingertips on your skin as he fixed the strap on your dress.

"There," he breathes out. Jace walked forward before looking back at you, getting a full view of you in your dress.

The prince himself was already dressed. Clothed in the finest leather of the seven kingdoms, the sigil of House Targaryen incorporated into his outfit as he looked immaculate. Not much was changed in his hair, only that it was curled a bit like Lucerys'.

"Did you hear what I said, Y/N?" You hear his chuckle as you snap out of your trance.

When he sees the unaware look on your face, he laughs. "I said, you look pretty. Very. Possibly the prettiest in the whole seven kingdoms."

Your cheeks heat up at the sudden compliment, looking away from him and heading to your dresser.

"Your mother's the prettiest, my prince," you reply with a laugh, powdering your face. The sides of Jace's lips rise before he walks over to you.

"Well, I believe that I am allowed to exempt my own mother, don't I, Y/N?"

"Of course," you glare at him, his lips stretching into a teasing smile as his eyes catch onto the all-too-familiar jewelry box, knowing full well what's inside of it.

He unclasps the small lock on it, opens it, and turns to you. The two of you stare silently at the necklace before he pulls it out of the box.

You gulp nervously when you see him walk behind you, keeping his eyes fixated on your neck through the mirror. "Such a pretty neck," he thought.

"D'you know... that these types of necklaces," you hiss as the cold metal is placed onto your neck, Jace's hands feather-like as he maneuvered it skillfully. "Are incredibly strong?"

"They're a staple necklace of my family, red jewels and valyrian steel. Expertly crafted to withstand various things and experience a lot as well. Our ancestors used to wear it amidst battles; Queen Visenya, an example." He explained further. The lock of the necklace clicked upon his movement.

Your fingers touched the jewels on your neck in a cautious manner, not wanting to damage them. You glanced at Jace, seeing him watch you with his arms behind his back, his eyes trailing up and down your figure as his breath hitched when he locked eyes with you.

"Gods, has anyone already told you that you look incredible right now?" He breathes out, mouth agape, as he only registers how you look now.

The compliment makes you giggle like a young girl being teased by her crush.

"Oh, someone already has. It's like he likes me," you frown, faking innocence as you acted like you were thinking. The man in front of you slowly caught on to what you were trying to say.

"I think he does. I think he really, really does." Jace nods, practically confessing his feelings for you in such a discreet manner that it just makes your stomach fill with emotions.

A small smile comes to your lips as you step forward to look the prince in the eye. You beckoned him to lean down to you, Jace's eyebrows raising a bit in surprise before he complied.

You stood on your tiptoes, "I think... I like him as well."

Jace suddenly feels his whole body stop to think about what you just said. He blinks a bit, staring at your face—which basically lit up the room more than any other candle.

His mouth opened to speak, but no words came out; he was speechless.

The two of you have known each other since a child, having been with their family for as long as Jace could remember and being his long-time crush ever since your mother and Rhaenyra had introduced both of you to each other as a child.

And you felt the same. Every bit of feeling that Jace had for you all those years, you had for him as well.

Years of pining, of discreet flirting, of subtle touches—here you both are now.

"So does that mean- I'm uh, I'm your... " You scoff at the man's stammering, pulling him close by his collar and kissing him on the cheek. "Yes, Jacaerys."

He looks at you with wide eyes before he sighs, letting his instincts take over as he pulls you even closer by your waist, softly touching your lips with his. You smile a bit into the kiss, letting him take control of the kiss.

You felt his hands fall from your waist to your hips, squeezing the soft flesh before he pushes his body weight onto yours, backing you up until you hit the edge of your dresser.

The way Jace's tongue swiped and moved inside your mouth was skillful, as if he had lots of time in Dragonstone to practice for this very moment. He angled his head, using his hands to caress your face as he licked your lip, biting lightly on it.

Your hands gripped his biceps as you pulled away breathlessly, finding his hands right by your sides. His eyes darken as he opens them; your lips parted, panting for air, and your eyes were just as lust-blown as his; the sight was far from what he had imagined. It was better, much more erotic.

You felt something press against your thigh, something hard. Jace licked his lips before swallowing harshly.

"How much time do we have before my mother's crowning?" He asks, running his hand behind you as he takes note of the strings that tie your dress.

You inhaled sharply, your hands coming onto his chest as you held one of the buckles of his top.

"Twenty minutes, I think." You sighed, shrugging at him. He smirked at that, nodding at you before the strings of your dress suddenly loosened, the prince in front of you descending to his knees.

"Well then, let's make this fast, yeah?"

hearts, reactions, replies, and reblogs are very appreciated if you liked the story! <3 ^w^

jace taglist: @cosmicfairygirl @simrah1012 @lucerysvelaryonstan @lady-stark-winter-rose @moon1gt @aureliapappa @jcrsctrl @bobfloydluvsblackwomen @m4nd0l0r

#hotd #jacaerys imagines #jacaerys velaryon #jacaerys velaryon fic #jacaerys x reader imagine #jacaerys fluff #jacaerys x reader #jacaerys targaryen #hotd fics #jacaerys smut #jacaerys velaryon x reader fic #jacaerys fic

[haet-sal]

Tatsächlich Liebe (Love, Actually)//jun x fem!reader (smut included)

Tags: cute single dad!boss!jun with a crush, mini-wen involved, office romance, shower sex, public sex, sort of cheating bc you have a sort-of-boyfriend, pining i suppose?, jun with a crush, went a little ANGSTY, Bestie!minghao

You’re the wide-eyed, clueless-but-on-top secretary to Wen Junhui, and it all starts, with one new year’s kiss… well, new year’s fuck.

Mr. Wen likes you. It should have been obvious, whenever he seemed to forgive your inadequate work ethics and frequent unfailing mishaps, and how much he trusted you, no matter how many mistakes you made, how much he hated hearing about your life with your boyfriend… and what kind of boss goes shopping for their employee, privately, anyway?

Warnings: y/n is incredibly seductive and more dominant and a bit of a fuckgirl, anxious Jun, cheating, Guanhang from nct is here as your very mean and distant bf

W.c.: 11k

~~~~~

You might not be very good at your job. And you realize this when you spill Jun’s coffee for the fifth time since you started working (6 months now). That was 0.8 coffees per month.

Times 2, and 3: You forgot to cap the coffee all the way right, after opening it because you FORGOT to ask for the sugar and you had to open it, put a packetful in, stir and cap it again, and Jun spills it on his shirt on his first attempt to drink it. Your penalty: Jun offers a tight lipped smile and caps it himself. “That’ll be all, thanks, Y/n.”

Time 1: you didn’t lay the cup right on his desk. It only spilled maybe 4 drops. Yay. That’s a win, in the book of Y/n. Penalty: nothing.

Time 4, the worst of them all: YOU SPILLED IT ON THE DOCUMENTS HE HAD ON HIS DESK. You don’t even know how, but the full fucking cup spilled. Penalty: “I got it, thanks,” Jun said (thanks for what? He lost documents and three quarters of his coffee) “could you print these again?”

Time 5: this time the coffee didn’t even make it onto his desk, you trip and spill it on yourself. To be fair, you were carrying the lunch orders of the others in your office, so it was a precarious situation.

“I’ll go get a new one!” you called out, since Jun was watching from behind the foggy, half translucent glass door of his office, where he could definitely see you from the way he was angled, but you only saw a part of his dark oakwood table.

There would be a line at the cafe, it was lunch time. But you were determined to make yourself important and cut in line, no matter what it took. “I WORK FOR THE BOSS” would be one thing you could say.

As you head back for the elevator, Jun’s head peeks out of the aforementioned glass door. “y/n,” he called—you like that he never called you like he was demanding your presence, like a rude guest you were waiting on, but rather… softly. Jun just had a softness to him. “Hey, actually, forget the coffee, if it’s not here—can you go get one of those donuts with sprinkles on it?”

“Pink,” came a very boyish little voice from behind the door.

“Pink, with sprinkles, like Homer Simpson eats.”

You walk back to the office, and open it wider, so the little boy could finally appear to you. “Hey, mini-Mr. Wen. Would you like to walk there with me, so you can pick what you’d like?” Jun was very paranoid, but also a very at-ease parent. Meaning: he did let his son go places without him, with other guardians, but also had a terrible anxiety that left him imagining all the worst scenarios until the boy was back in front of his eyes. And yet, you still asked, because you knew Jun was busy. He couldn’t be watching the kid right now.

Hao—that was his name, ‘inspired’ by his father’s love for his best friend, although Jun would say he lost a bet and that’s all it was—nodded, but he wasn’t walking on his feet: he immediately extended both arms out for you to carry him. “Alright, buddy! Let’s go!”

Jun managed a half-absentminded, half-grateful smile at you, mouthing his thanks. And then the door closed.

“Donuts,” Hao says quietly.

“Yes, donuts! We’re getting donuts, getting donuts…” you sang as you walked towards the elevator.

.

Today Jun’s aforementioned best friend and trades partner was in the office with him, because he wanted to come see his little namesake. As Minghao talked business and life with Jun, he saw how relaxed Jun usually was, rather than be the ball of anxiety he turned into whenever his son was somewhere in public not holding onto his own hand.

“You actually trust that intern,” Minghao drew his conclusions.

“She’s permanently employed!” Jun says with a smile. “Do you want me to text her and tell her to bring you a coffee?”

“Where’s yours?”

“She…” There was no way to sugarcoat this in a way that Minghao would feel sympathetic towards you. “Kinda spilled it.”

“... You permanently employed a secretary who couldn’t even bring you coffee.” Seeing Jun’s shocked eyes (how dare you bring that up, Minghao! He was probably thinking), Minghao continued: “didn’t she cause that delay with that shipping company because of her other-and-frequent mishaps, and you had to ask them to deliver the papers all over again? Why would you keep her after that?”

“I don’t know,” Jun says, pondering on his systems himself, “I’ve been through a lot of short-term interns, but I just employed her permanently because, I don’t know, it’s actually became a chore sifting through new secretaries, and she just feels right.”

Minghao cocked an eyebrow. Pushed his glasses up to his forehead. “Feels… right…” Jun did not return any ripostes to the accusations Minghao’s raised eyebrows were throwing. “But I’ve never seen you trust anybody with little Hao this much.”

“Y/n’s a natural around Hao,” Jun’s praise of you came lightly, and he broke into a smile. “Hao loves her.”

“Jun… just because she’s good with your kid doesn’t mean she’s good at her job.”

“Give her a chance!” Jun says with a nudge of his elbows. “She gets my order just right—I swear, no one gets the sugar-to-coffee ratio as right as she does.”

“Maybe because she’s the one delivering it. You know drinks taste sweeter when you like the person serving them.”

Jun groaned. “Hao…” Suddenly red in the cheeks, Jun brought his hands to cover his face, feigning that he was yawning or scratching his cheek or something. But Minghao saw through everything.

“All I’m saying is, I wonder if she really is good at her job—”

The door opened, and you and the Mini-Wen peeked through, with the little boy holding two cups of coffee. “I got your orders!” you say. “Well, Hao got them! I’ll keep watching him, if you want?”

“But I wanna sit on papa’s chair–!”

You grabbed the little boy gently. “Papa’s in a serious talk with uncle Hao, do you think we can hang out at my desk? I have games!”

Minghao shot a look at Jun, as the two of you walked back out of the office. He reached for the cup of coffee with ‘Xu’ written on its side, handing Jun the other. “Anyway,” he says, “back to our ‘serious discussion—” He took a sip of his drink, and suddenly looked completely apprehensive, like he wanted to spit it out.

But under the light of Jun’s alarmed gaze, Minghao slowly swallowed it, and then placed it back on the desk. “This is… this is not my order.”

“She just can’t tell between everybody’s orders,” Jun offered. “She’s still learning!”

Minghao took another sip. “I think this is oatmilk… I can sort of get behind it.”

.

.

.

Today was Christmas, which was why Hao was at the office: he was going to be picked up by his mom to go to her parents’ house, where he would spend the holidays. Jun and the mom never really interacted, or so says everyone at the office–you had never met her. Jun preferred that the handing away of the kid be done through third parties, from babysitters who would text as soon as she had come to take him away, through secretaries, or even through the office receptionist. Whatever it took to not see her.

You’re not good at your job. You’re clumsy, distracted, inadequate, and most of the time you gossiped away, or at least listened to all the gossip instead of concentrating on your job. What you’ve heard about the matrimony of Jun and his ex was: there wasn’t even a wedding. They got pregnant, they became engaged, apparently the wife got cold feet before the wedding and just decided she didn’t want to be a mother and a wife forever. She asked that one of her flings take her away to somewhere exclusive before the ceremony—someone says it was to the swiss alps, someone says they holed up at an air bnb just out of town—and never even showed up for the wedding planning and the ceremony had to be canceled.

As the story goes… her family had been glad, thinking Jun wasn’t the right person to get settled with. Back then he was handling the up-and-coming company, but they didn’t have faith in his line of work—they did, however, want their little grandson, and the custody battle turned ugly, which added to why Jun didn’t want to see his ex or hear anything about them. Ultimately he got full custody, as the mother didn’t even really want Hao.

Whenever you saw the almost-Mrs. Wen, she was incredibly cool, hiding behind oversized sunglasses. You’d have an actual sense of respect for her, if only her mere presence didn’t make her own son’s face fall like someone had taken his sweets from him.

But today she had her hair in bunches, and she impatiently took the little boy into her arms, and thanked you. “Tell your boss pick-up time’s 5 p.m. on the thirty-first,” she told you. “Or sooner, that’s fine too.”

As she walked away, you were in awe of how much she seemed like Jun’s type: sexy, but cute, and cool. She knew how to dress, for sure. You wrote down the pick-up time: 6 p.m., did she say? And tried to go back to work. You should clear his schedule on New Year’s Eve, but in the office it was still a work day, although the general consensus had decided to have a party in the office, going til midnight. You didn’t know if Jun wanted to stay, since usually he spent holidays with his son.

You see someone in flashy colors sashaying towards your desk, and erect your head, expectant.

“Heyyyyy!” It’s Arin, from the reception. “Guess what?” she says, bringing out the box she was hiding behind her back. “Look! You have a good boss.”

As you took the present and the card—where it was simply written ‘Merry Christmas, Y/n’ and nothing more, thank God because if you knew just how many drafts Jun went through—you leaned over the desk and into Jun’s office, where you saw a blur of his silhouette.

You unwrapped it messily, with as much expertise as you always have on the job, and out comes three bottles of perfume. You press the communications button to Junhui’s office. “I got the presents!”

“That’s great, you’re welcome.”

“Thank you, Jun!”

Minghao, in Jun’s office, watched as Jun got flustered, blinking the shock away. “You… you never call me that,” is what you hear over the speaker.

“Damn. When did he shop for these?” You press the button again. “When did you shop for these, Mr. Wen?! I’m meant to be doing your shopping!”

“Uh, just back in November!” The red light of the device wasn’t alight anymore, which meant the conversation was over. (Jun turned to Minghao in the office. “I may have done this in September, and also had a whole personal-shopper ensemble help me.”)

“So,” Arin says, sitting on your desk now, “you got your boss giving you gifts! What about that boyfriend of yours?”

“Guanhang?” Your expression turned a little sour. “He’s got a big family, so we went shopping for like, the six of them back in November, but he never got one for me? I figured he didn’t want to buy anything for me in front of me, but—oh, bye, Mr. Xu—” Jun and Minghao had come out of the office, as Jun parted from his best friend— “but I never woke up to presents. I mean, it’s only Christmas. I guess I can wait until he remembers?”

Arin grimaced. “Uh-uh. Today’s the deadline.”

“On Valentine’s day he just ate me out each night for the entire month and said that was his present,” you say quietly.

Arin laughed. She made a joke about cunnilingus or something or the other, which brings you to howl with laughter.

“I mean, it is a good gift, if only he didn’t pick the shortest month of the year to do it!” You’re about to go on about more of Guanhang’s antics when—

Jun’s shadow loomed over Arin’s figure, and sensing his presence, she moved over.

“Get back to work, please,” he told her. “Especially you, Y/n, your… work…” he fumbled over his words, before settling with: “is inadequate. And careless. And messy. I… expect better.”

You pouted up at him. Jun looked away before it could affect him more than he liked. “Back to work, please,” he repeated, “And Arin, your job is at the desk, which is like, thirty feet away.” The glass door to his office half-slams, particularly loudly that it sounded like it would shatter.

“Must be in a bad mood,” Arin adjudged. With a sigh, she just left the remaining files and letters designated towards you and Jun at your desk. “Text me about the boyfriend things, alright?”

Feeling sort of shamed (you sucked at your job and you didn’t like being reminded of it), you silently go through the files, not even unpacking Jun’s perfumes out of their boxes. When Jun asks of Hao later, you just tell him he’ll be home on New Year’s Eve, omitting the part where he has to be picked up.

.

.

.

“Mei.” Jun pretended to multitask, going over his documents while on the phone, but in truth he was getting nothing done. What a shitty day to come into work. “Mei, please. Don’t do this to me. Please bring him back home, at least.”

“Jun, I’m not going to drive to your apartment, there’s traffic and I have an appointment with someone! I literally told your assistant the pick-up time—Pick. Up. I never said I’d bring him. Didn’t she tell you?” Jun felt like kicking himself, he looked out the blinds into the street, and yes, absolutely there is traffic. They’re closing up roads for the city’s new year’s party, fireworks inclusive. “How useless is that secretary?”

“Of course she told me!" He snaps defensively. "I’m just busy all of a sudden. Can’t your parents drive him?”

“Papa just had cornea surgery, Jun. Mama has to be with him at all times.”

Jun hits himself. “Fine, fine, can you leave Hao with your parents, then? Just go to your party—we’ll pick him up at home.”

“It’s not a party, it’s an appointment.” But Jun heard heels clinking, sighs, yelling to her parents, a car door opening. “Fine. I’ll hear from you on Easter or something, then.”

Jun immediately pressed the button to call your desk in, before the call even ended. Soon enough, you’re walking in, taller than he remembers you, but he distracts himself from looking at you (it wasn’t healthy for him to look at you, he gets heartburn). “Could you pick my son up?” he asked. “Take my car. After that I swear you can take the day off, just come back to bring my keys b—”

His eyes finally land on you, and there’s silver sequins peeking out from under the blazer. He leans over the table, trying to look at your footwear: heels that made you taller than Mingyu from sales. “Um… is that for the party?”

“I’m going clubbing!” you answered. “With my boyfriend.”

Jun looked away from you. The sequinned dress was low-necked, distractingly so. “Alright, well… Hao’s usual sitter will be home, so you can just ring the bell.”

“I know the code to your door, anyway,” you say. “See ya, Mr. Wen!”

.

.

.

The New Year’s party was starting, with the attending employees taking advantage of every resource in the office: speakers blaring music, the main lights dimmed and LED lights strewn across the walls so carelessly it looked like they were there by accident; everything was a total mess. There wasn’t a reason to stay there anymore if he wasn’t celebrating, but Jun couldn’t leave: he needed his car.

It’s almost ten when you come back, and as much as it was long-awaited, it even felt unreal that you’d come back.

“Y/n!” He didn’t realize how his anxiety had crept up on him, even when concerning you—he knew Hao was safe home, but you were his main concern. Sort of weird, that it’d be that way. “I’m so glad you’re okay!”

“Bad news,” you say as you come into his office, basically screaming over the music, “I barely escaped when I came, but they’re blocking every street around here for the parade.”

Jun stood over his tiptoes to see the state of the roads: the parades were already setting in, and the roads were blocked everywhere. The only other option would be to wait it out, until it’s past midnight and everyone is back home in their beds.

He sighed. “I think I’ll have to stay until the end of the party.” He pulled out his phone, urgently texting the babysitter.

But Jun immediately turned into his usual anxious character, not being able to get home at his son’s bedtime. He paced around the party, sometimes paying attention to the music, although it was just grating for him at some point, and, not wanting to return home drunk, refused all booze and decided to chaperone the party.

He finds you at the hard liquor corner, during his many rounds around the office. You’re leaned back and sipping out of a full bottle. Jun hasn’t drunk in a while, because hangovers and being drunk in general made him unable to parent. He knows moderation looks different to everybody, but you weren’t it.

“... all I said was he spends a comically high amount of time with that girl from work! And he’s like, you’re always tailing after Jun, and I’m like, yeah, that’s my job? And then he says, I'm not his girlfriend, I just live with him, he can do whatever he wants.”

You take another mouthful out of the straight bottle. “What’d you say?” Arin edges you on.

“Told him that’s rich coming from the guy that was balls deep in my—”

Jun cringes with scrunched and avoidant eyes, as he comes over to take the bottle away from you. Setting it down on a desk behind him, he notices that the people around had started to clear out, not wanting a chaperoning boss to ruin the fun. They rushed to the windows and the balcony.

“I thought you were going clubbing on your night off?” he asks you, standing two feet planted in front of you. You were holding yourself really horribly, and ended up resting your head on his stomach without a thought in your head. If you had thought it through, maybe you wouldn't have done it.

“Fight,” you explained. “With the guy I live with.”

“I see…” Jun tenderly combed his fingers through your hair, but only used it to pull your head off his stomach. “Well, I guess office party’s just as fun, huh?”

You snorted as a reply.

“Last sixty seconds, guys!” someone yells. They’d opened the windows so the sounds of the parade in the street were full-blown blaring distantly, and you were about forty stories up in the air, the night breeze blowing with a vengeful cold.

You’re tired, your feet hurt and you just wanted to collapse into your bed. Unable to hold yourself up any longer, you fall face-flat into his stomach, again. Your arms wrapped around him, as if you were imagining him as a body pillow.

You feel Jun still, and you almost think he’s just uncomfortable being so close to you, but then you… realize something.

Mr. Wen likes you. It should have been obvious, whenever he seemed to forgive your inadequate work ethics and frequent unfailing mishaps, and how much he trusted you, no matter how many mistakes you made, how much he hated hearing about your life with your boyfriend… and what kind of boss goes shopping for their employee, privately, anyway?

You’re suddenly more awake than you were five seconds ago. You stand up, and there’s commotion—everyone’s crowding around the window, yelling the countdown as loud as their voices went. You look into Jun’s eyes. Sober, clean, worried.

“Do you think we can kiss, Mr. Wen?” you asked.

Jun stilled. Palms sweating, there was a moment where he swore his heart stopped, before he remembered how to breathe and regain all brain-control functions again. It might be what people call ‘skipping a beat’ meets ‘brain freeze’. “What?” he basically mumbled, unable to talk very loud, but you heard.

“We’re the only ones with no date,” you told him. “Everyone’s partnered up.” It was true, even people without dates had struck up deals for a new year’s kiss.

“It–it’s just not a good idea,” Jun stuttered.

“It’s a kiss for luck!” Every step you took towards him, Jun stepped back from you until his back hit a desk. Pouting, you add: “I want to have lots of luck next year.”

You must have had a lot of those schnapps and shots from the reception, Jun concludes, but too late: right after he takes the steps backwards, you had pulled him towards you by his tie. Hungry eyes, if he’d ever seen any. “Y/n,” he breathed out against your lips, which came close to him with every passing second, “we can’t.” You pull him in even closer, controlling him by the tie.

You do whatever the fuck you want when you’re drunk, Jun concludes. But it’s setting him into a full-blown panic. “Y–Y/n.”

The countdown starts, and you’re right—everyone’s gathered at the high-rise windows, looking at the parade under the office. No one’s looking back at you, and even if they were, they wouldn’t be able to tell who you were from the mere blue silhouettes of your bodies. At best, they’d just be able to see his white shirt. His entire body shrouded you.

Three!

You’re in every single part of Jun’s senses. He can smell you wearing the perfume he gave you, he can hear the low hum of your breath in his ears, he sees you, he sees the flimsy little dress with the spaghetti straps that keep dropping down to reveal more and more, he just…

Two!

He just has to taste you.

One!

He’s the one that takes the step to meet your lips, and now you’re kissing. You taste like soft cream and feel like good sleep. His tongue darts out, and you welcome it in your mouth.

Jun let out what he thinks is a sigh, but really was more of a moan, a sound that went unsuppressably past his throat and vibrated across your tongue. He thought you looked killer, the spaghetti straps of your dress would sometimes fall just a bit that he could see so much… flesh… from the side, but he won’t think about it, he won’t even look, he won’t be that pervert, the older guy that wants what he can’t have because you’re too shiny and spectacular and just the personification of a starry night, especially in this dress—and he can’t have you! He needed to get that through his head.

You had a boyfriend, you were literally about to go clubbing with him, you were taken, so what was he doing, what was he doing?

When he’s panting post-kiss, he doesn’t know if it’s the kissing making him breathless, or if it’s all his thoughts tiring him out.

“Wanna continue this?” you whispered to him, eyelashes hooding your expression. Jun doesn’t understand why you’d want to—yes, he wants to, but why do you—?

But he nods. He’s the one that grabs your hand, and walks over to his office, and you’re following him. Every time he told himself this was it and there’s no way you’d go further, you do. What the fuck.

The office is almost unrecognizable in the dark, with only the fireworks outside to light it up. You locked the door, and he realizes it hadn’t even crossed his mind.

You push him against the window, and for a second you looked over his shoulder at all the fireworks. He watches them reflect in your eyes, and the sight of you is just haunting.

And then you’re kissing him, his hands are on you again, this time peeling the spaghetti straps off, feeling your bare shoulders, just the feeling of your skin—he hadn’t been with anyone in a long, long time, too busy with his son or work, and to finally have this–with the person he’d been pining for so long…

He almost rips the dress off you, but restrains himself. Your lips feel soft and healing against his own, and then they’re on his neck. He doesn’t even stop you to tell you you can’t leave hickeys–it doesn’t even occur to him. His nose is just buried in your hair, as you trail kisses down his chest—when did you even undo the buttons?—and, when he messes with the straps of your dress again, it just drops to the floor at your feet.

He doesn’t even have the chance to take your form in, in just your strapless bra and panties. You’re rubbing him over his pants, and he’s hard, he wants it, yes, but he’s also dead sober and he couldn’t even stay drunk on you that long.

“Wait,” Jun says, holding up his hand, perhaps to keep some distance from you. “You’re drunk, we can’t go that far.”

With a lick of your lips, you’re undoing his belt and flinging it over your shoulder. When you can’t kiss him the way you wanted, you simply pull him by the tie so he’s on top of you, pinning you down on his desk. You want to kiss, you want his hands on you again, but he’s hesitant, only coming where you pull him.

“Y/n,” he gasped. “Y/n, please—this is a lawsuit.”

You giggled. “I’ll sign an NDA, if you want.”

Jun sighed, heavily breathing. “That’s not the problem.”

But he wants you, and if you want him now, there isn't a choice but to give in. Your naked legs wrap around his waist, and he just trails his hands down them, until they reach your heel-clad feet. It’s so hot, the way he’s allowed you to entrap him.

Jun is fervently kissing down your chest, your bra pulled down, as he enters you. He’s so hard, so bothered, and wet with precum. So hot it could sizzle. You throw your head back and let out a pornographic moan, but he cups his hand over your mouth, wordlessly reminding you that you were only a wall separated from a whole party of people.

Jun hadn’t been this way with anyone in a long time. There had been dates from time to time, but never with someone he actually truly liked. Trembling, his hips stutter, so does his lips, which are moaning your name. He tries to be as quiet and composed as he could, but he feels like he might let the loudest grunt, alerting everyone outside. He bites down on his lip.

He hadn’t been doing this in a while. This makes him impossibly sensitive, and he might release, even if it’s just too soon. You sense it in the stutter of his thrusts and immediately slip off him, and he’s glad, because he knows he can’t cum inside you, but also it was embarrassing to have to tell you. You kneel in front of him, open-mouthed, and he could spasm from the mere sight, before you take him in your hands.

Jun hisses sharply. “Do you see how it’s so white, you were so wet around me—” He interrupts himself with a sharp inhale.

But you’re going slowly, as if you were inexperienced with your tongue, or just wanted to drag the torture out for him. Jun’s hand grip at the table behind him.

“Please,” he moaned. “It hurts.” When he reaches out to touch you it’s fervent, hot. You’re the only thing in the world that could ease the pain and quench the thirst. His hands wrap around your hair, although to him it’s more like you hair had come alive and entangled themselves all over his digits. Your mouth feels so—fuck!

He’s cumming down your throat. Jun whimpered as the sensation of you never truly left him, you take care of him. Until the last of it spills onto the carpet. And he’s just watching you through his eyelashes, tired and giddy. He speaks your name.

You look up for a moment, before your gaze turns towards the door. Someone else was calling your name.

“It’s Arin,” you observe carefully. “You should count to like, three minutes before you come out, maybe more. I’ll go first, okay?”

He wondered if you’ve done these things before, as you strutted outside. The lights were back on outside in the hallway, and he shrouded himself in the shadows, feeling embarrassed but not ashamed.

When he exits the office later, locking the door behind him, there’s a man at your desk, figure defined by a dark puffer coat over a pastel hoodie. “Sorry I missed the kiss,” he was saying.

“I got kissed already,” you told him, avoiding eye-contact.

Guanhang didn’t believe you one bit, especially when you couldn’t meet him in the eye. “Yeah?” he says. “Who was it?”

“Arin,” you say plainly. Guanhang laughs. He grabs your hand.

“Wanna go watch the parade? I’ll put you on my shoulders and everything.” He looked past you, and sees Jun, and offers a tight-lipped smile. “Aren’t you going to introduce me to your boss?”

“I don’t see why you’d need to, you’re just some guy I live with, right?”

You grabbed your handbag and strutted towards the elevator, but later Jun hears that Guanhang did put you on his shoulder to see the rest of the parade.

.

.

.

The second of January and business is back, you sit down at your desk after an uncomfortable subway ride and check a day’s worth of missed emails. When Jun comes to work, finally, you offer a smile, but don’t meet him in the eyes. He wasn’t looking at you, either.

“Good morning,” he basically grunted, clearing his throat. He knew it was impersonal, but he didn’t want to say your name, because whenever he spoke your name there was an embarrassing adoration in his voice.

“I’ll get you your coffee,” you told Jun.

You’re beating yourself up while waiting for the order, and you pull out your phone. These were words you couldn’t literally say to him, but on text you felt brave, hiding behind a screen. Not having to read his expressions.

You: hi, i just wanted to tell you…

It’s immediately read, although he doesn’t reply. He's waiting for you.

You: if you can just forget everything! It would be cool

You: what happened that night, I mean

You: I can’t be doing this, I have a boyfriend

Mr. Wen: we can do that.

Mr. Wen: i’m sorry, by the way

You: don’t be.

You: I liked it

Jun tries to forget.

.

.

A few days after New Year’s was Jun’s European business trip, and you were glad you wouldn’t have to see him after all. And yet, sitting at your desk two feet away from the office where it all happened made you feel weird. As all your drunk escapades make you feel.

He’d been gone since Monday, and was due back today, to land in the evening. But as you check in with him, you find out his flight’s been delayed.

“There’s engine issues,” he told you. “I don’t know, fingers crossed I make it in time before Hao’s bedtime.”

But an hour later he called you in a panic. “Y/n, fuck—what do I—I don’t even—” When you ask him to tell you, slowly, he tries to calm down. “The babysitter! I told them my flight’s delayed, and she can’t stay all night—I don’t think my plane will land until dawn. Now she’s mad I’m demanding too many hours, because she stayed all night on New Year’s, too…”

You cringed, thinking about New Year’s night.

“I don’t know what to do, can you go to my apartment? I already called Seungkwan, and then I tried Joshua, but—”

“Of course I’ll do it!” you interrupt. “You can’t call your friends, they’re busy men… I’ve got nothing going on, it’s fine. I’ll go.”

Jun sighed in relief. “You sure?”

You looked over at the make-shift dining room table in your apartment. Guanhang promised to be home for dinner, but he hadn’t come home at all. “Yeah,” you told him. “Just try to have a safe flight, okay?”

.

.

.

Hao’s crying, and the babysitter is panicking when you come into the apartment. You quickly explain the situation to her, and she’s soon excused, leaving you and the sobbing boy alone, but at least seeing you, who he associated with his dad, calmed him down a little.

“Your dad’s at the airport,” you explain to the little boy patiently. “You remember airports, right? You’ve been there with daddy?”

He pulls out a plane and asks if Jun is in a similar one, and you answer yes.

“But papa’s always here when I go to sleep,” Hao whined. “And I need someone to watch my back, so the monsters don’t creep up.”

“Do you want me to put you to sleep?” you asked. “Hey, why don’t we sleep in the master bedroom, huh? So you can surprise daddy when he’s home.”

Jun’s giant apartment actually had an office and three bedrooms, but the master bedroom was his, the other was Hao’s—with a little kid-sized bed—and he turned the third bedroom into a playroom, so guests were never expected. You decided once you put Hao to bed, you would go sleep on the couch in the living room, wake up and go home once Jun’s home, you get a day off, anyway.

.

.

.

Jun took a taxi back home. The sun wouldn’t rise for hours. He’d been microdosing on first-class flight champagne all night, and it only made him feel sleepy and unsharp. Plus, he’d been up for an entire day.

He’s stumbling into his apartment, not even taking his shoes off—if he sat down to do it, he’d fall asleep immediately—and only takes them off when he’s in his bedroom. He hears Hao’s little breaths and sniffles, and concludes he’s in his bed.

But when he turns to finally look, you’re there, too, lying on the blankets, not under them. You must have fallen asleep putting Hao to sleep…

Jun tucks you into bed, intending to keep you and Hao there and sleep in the living room, but he can’t deny the welcoming pliability of his bed, so he would just rest his head, on the familiar navy pillows, just a blink, just to shut his eyes…

.

When you wake up, it's because there’s something in your hand. You blink the sleep out of your eyes, to see that you were holding onto Jun’s hand, held over his sleeping son’s chest.

You flinch away, and with the rustle of the bedsheets, he’s awake.

You’d been sleeping, forehead to forehead and holding hands over the sleeping boy, like you were a family.

You murmur your apologies. He excuses you, and tells you you can keep sleeping for a bit, he’s going to take a shower anyway, he’ll make you and Hao breakfast and then you could leave.

You’re having this whole conversation still lying on the bed like a mom and dad, and he reached over, patting your head. Your hair’s messy, and still had clips in it, never having taken them off. He pets you as if you were something beloved—but you pulled away. Cleared your throat. “Um. You should go shower.”

He’s so tired he doesn’t even know what he’s doing, whole body running on autopilot until he wakes up watching the steam rise out of the showerhead. Jun lets the warm water rush all over his body, pitter-pattering over his closed eyelids and down his broad shoulder. He sighed. He’s travel-weary, and jetlagged, and everything sucked. And he was embarrassed, because of the way you had flinched away from his touch…

Suddenly he heard footsteps outside the bathroom, and despite the sounds of the water, he heard everything (damn you, expensive rich-people shower!).

“I was home until 10, and you’re the one that didn’t come home!” He realized you were screaming, and you were near the bathroom because you had to scream—it was the farthest from where Hao was sleeping, so a blindspot.

“Heng, I had work!”

“Don’t give me that work bullshit, how is there work at fucking midnight?!” Damn. He could hear it despite the call not being on speaker, and also through the sounds of the water. Guanhang could yell, for sure.

“There just was! I’m an assistant–I’m sorry, alright, I’m sorry! I tried to call you last night—”

“Stop fucking calling me, then, fucking leave me alone!” You went quiet, which made Guanhang snap: “why aren’t you saying anything?!”

Jun hears you groan. He tries to tune it out, until at one point he can’t hear anything anymore. It must be over. Hao must still be asleep, although he bets not for long. Jun weighs his options, what he could make for breakfast for the three of you. He lets the warmth of the shower and the prospect of good food lull him into a another open-eyed nap.

Your whereabouts in the house were unknown to him, until he sees your figure enter the bathroom, through steam-mist shrouded silhouettes. He doesn’t say anything, letting you get ready on your own for the day—but you open the door to the shower.

Jun basically jumps back, but sees that now you’re in your tank top, the one you wore under your sweater, and… panties. His eyes don’t linger that long there.

“I wanted to shower, too,” you told him. He doesn’t say anything, half in shock, still tired. But he does watch everything, the way you peeled the pieces of clothing off of you so slowly, and then, under his gaze, felt strange and so cover your breasts with your arms. You look like a pin-up girl, which makes his brain chemistry go woah. You join him under the water, looking as if you didn’t even realize he was there, focused on wetting all of your hair, with closed eyes concentrated on the feeling of the water.

Can he touch you? Jun decided not to bet on it, and leaned back, watching you, dazed. He didn’t even understand what was happening.

You pull him in by the back of his hair, making him lean down to kiss you. As soon as that awkward seal broke, Jun’s on your skin, kissing your naked chest, trying to cover more ground than the water does. But you need his lips on your own, stat, so you yank his head up with a sharp, painful pull of his hair. He winces, but finds he likes the pain—like your coffee, everything you give him is sweet.

“This time you can cum inside of me,” you say raspily against his ears, which makes him feral, turning you around and pressing you up against the glass walls of the shower. He lets out a low growl, reminiscent of his days as a bachelor, before his ex, before Hao. He felt like he was just dripping in that youth again, being inside of you.

It doesn’t occur to him how weird it was. Why would you not even let him pat you on the head, but kiss him naked in the shower? Of course, he came to a conclusive construct in the end: Guanhang. Every time your own boyfriend disappointed you, you came to him.

.

.

The next morning, right before he set out to drive to work, came the text:

(2) New messages from Y/N

Forget about yesterday, please

I feel really bad. We shouldn’t have.

.

.

.

Jun would wait. Until Guanhang makes you feel unneeded again, he would wait. He didn’t see it as taking advantage of your sadness—in fact, it was a sadness mutualism. He was there for you when you felt down, and he… Well, he was always sad. You made it worse when you left, but when you were around it felt like heaven.

Guanhang spends nights out, and you wanted to limit your meetings with Jun to just that, but sometimes, you’d take his car to his apartment, fuck, and then he’d drop you off, right before Guanhang comes home from work or whatever he does. You never get caught—Guanhang doesn’t expect you back so quickly. There were nights you spent completely at his apartment, where you’d talk more than you’d fuck, and also play house with Hao, like a little family, and Jun’s never had that, that he begins to actually fool himself. He knows it’s insane, of course, but sometimes between sleepover nights and making you breakfast, he wishes you were Hao’s mom. He thought he’d given up on that a long time ago, but you made him revisit what it feels like to be young and in love.

At the office, you act naturally. You never even show half a glimmer of interest in him, you do your job. No one catches on. Your acting was genuinely convincing, that he’d wonder if you even liked him at all, but once work is over and he’s driving you back, you’re all over him.

He knows, of course, that it all depended on Guanhang, agonizingly so—you only paid attention to Jun when Guanhang wasn’t paying attention to you. And sometimes Jun gave you presents here and there, shopping trips and premium subscriptions—and one time you wanted to give Guanhang a video game as a present, so you siphoned off Jun’s money for that. He knows it’s wrong, you’re stringing him along, but sometimes he knew no better. He chose to know no better.

“She’s just a user,” Minghao told Jun when he finally admitted to it. “If she only comes to you when her boyfriend has off-days, I’m sorry, she’s a user. Nothing more to it.”

Jun knew you didn’t love him, of course, but it’s hard to imagine you completely indifferent to him. You were nice when you’re together.

“Either way,” Minghao says, “It’s a dangerous game. What if she extorts you?”

“She wouldn’t!”

“She has a boyfriend, what if he finds out and blackmails you?!”

Jun admitted to the possibility, but told Minghao not to worry. He was willing to go down for you, although he didn’t dare admit it to his friends.

But Jun let you in every time you knocked, until you became as familiar to him as the back of his hand.

.

.

.

“I’m taking Tuesday afternoon off,” Jun says as he lazily thrusts into you, “We’re trying to get Hao into one of those high-end nursery schools, next year.” He moved in you, and it’s tight and wet, but for you it just feels full, with no movement. You feel a little crazy.

If you weren’t trying so hard to cum, maybe you could have made a joke about how high-end nursery schools can be. But you just nod, peeking at him through scrunched eyes. “Uh-huh!” you squeaked. He’s moving again, and you throw your head back and moan.

“I think I’ll need you there,” Jun says. “I mean, I’ll need to look important and be hands-on, it’s nice to have an assistant there.”

You shiver around his cock, he’s moving but only minimally, and you need the full violent, bottom-out-and-thrusting-in action. You whine.

“Y/n? Are you getting this? I’ll meet you at the office, alright?”

You simply groan, pushing him back and trying to find… whatever was the pussy equivalent of ‘footing’. You try to gain leverage on the desk behind you and bounce, fucking yourself on his cock, and it’s still not enough.

Jun laughs. You are not getting it. You’re basically going feral from the withheld orgasm. Giving you what you wanted, he goes faster, and you nearly scream, gripping onto his white oxford in bunches, lewdly bouncing on his cock. “Want me to touch you?” he questioned, and you nod vehemently. “Yes, yes, yes, yes—”

.

There must be like 20 kids running around at this party. (“oh my god, triplets!” you whispered to Jun as you first stepped into the garden) Hao’s shy, and wants his father to carry him, preferably back into the car, but Jun refuses, making him walk. He doesn’t cry to protest, which is what you love so much about Hao. “Go play with Hoon,” Jun suggests, dropping to his knees to talk to his son. He pointed the familiar little face out. “Go on, make new friends!”

“He’s a bit like you,” you told Jun as Hao wandered off into the playpens.

Jun turned to you, curious. “How so?”

“He’s shy, but… he makes it work.” You’re back on your phone again, double-checking your boss’s schedule, checking all mail, confirming meeting times and topics. Jun waits for you on a bench until he couldn’t anymore.

He snatches the phone from you. “Work later,” he says. “I’m just like Hao, and I need you to be tailing me at all times so I can have a sense of security.”

“A false sense of security,” you say. “Wait, security from what?”

“The parents’ committee…”

So you’re the one that meets the fear-striking bunch of parents, rich trust fund kids breeding more trust fund kids, whose only purpose was to take care of their children. They might be problematically prideful and impossibly picky, but they made up for it by having an overly welcome demeanor. The triplets’ mother led the committee and also the waitlist to the nursery school, and as you pointed Hao out to her, she gushed over how cute the little guy was. Jun stands demurely behind you, not even accepting the compliment himself.

“He really is a sweet boy,” says the woman, “well it’s no wonder, when his parents are so cute!”

Jun looked at you, wanting to cut in, but he never speaks soon enough, and you’re the one that goes: “thank you!” with a grin. He doesn’t say anything anymore after that.

It’s winter, and when the party’s over the sun had set. Hao’s extra tired, from climbing up walls and running around with the other kids. When you look back at him, a few minutes after having strapped him into his little child seat, he’s out like a light. “He’s kaputt,” you informed Jun.

“Yeah?” He smiled. “Good… hey, I mean, when they thought you were his mom—”

“I hope you don’t mind!” you say. “I just… didn’t want to go through the whole I’m-actually-his-assitant and then they ask where the mom is and then the whole divorce story…”

“I’m actually grateful.” Jun’s lips are tightened but upturned in a little :] smile. “I… never like talking about his mom.” You nodded. After a few minutes of silence, he goes: “well, I mean, if they ask next time where his mom is, and you’re not there…”

“Of course I’ll be there!” you put a hand over his thigh, and squeeze. “Maybe you can keep saying that, I’m gonna be with you guys for a while, aren’t I?”

.

Jun’s the one that carries his son out of the car and into the apartment, and you follow him upstairs—he promised to make you dinner. As you get into the elevator, you text Guanhang you’ll be eating somewhere else, if he cares.

Guanhang: Where? Maybe I can join you

You: just somewhere with the girls from the office :) girls’ night?

You look up from your phone as little Hao wakes up, cheeks puffy against Jun’s shoulder. “Y/n,” he says sleepily.

“Hey, little guy. We’re home.”

“You’re home,” Hao says with a yawn, and maybe he just said it because he was half-asleep, but you stop in your tracks. You realize you’d been spending more time at your boss’s house than you do in Guanhang’s apartment.

You ran Hao a bath, and you and Jun bathed the little guy together, complete with bathbombs and bath toys. There’s sand from the garden everywhere in his scalp, which you patiently wash off.

“I want Y/n to be my mommy,” Hao says as you gently wet his hair, occasionally dunking him, which he’s patient to.

You let out a laugh, it was just awkward and you didn’t know what to say, how to parent.

You’re not the parent though, and Jun took the little boy into his arms, growing sterner. “Hey, you don’t say things like that, okay?”

“Why not?” the little boy pondered.

“Well, because she’s still young and she might not like—I mean, son, listen, motherhood—I mean, it’s just—you’re cute, don’t worry, you’re the cutest thing ever, but—you can’t just say that to everybody you like!”

“I don’t say it about everybody,” Hao says. “I just say it about y/n!”

You offer a tight-lipped smile, and Hao’s still not done: “I looove y/n. I like her more than mama. Mama’s mama, and Y/n is mommy!”

“I didn’t teach him that,” Jun says quietly. “I swear, I did not teach him that.”

.

Later when he sends you home, he’s still apologizing profusely. And then, he lights up with a smile. “It’s good he likes you, isn’t it?”

You shrugged. “I mean… yeah. I like that Hao likes me, it’s part of my job.”

.

.

.

Jun presented a little promise ring, a silver band encrusted with diamonds. Minghao sighs. “You cannot be…”

“It’s for Y/n!”

“I thought she wanted no strings attached?” probed Minghao.

Jun frowned, thinking deeply about it. “But…” he sounded as innocent as his own son as he said it, “we’ve come far enough that we can define our relationship. You don’t know what she told me.”

“What?”

“She said, she’ll be here with me and Hao. For a long time.”

“Jun,” Minghao says, sighing, “don’t… don’t do this to yourself or little Hao. Don’t play with someone that obviously doesn’t care about your feelings.”

“I don’t know, Minghao,” Jun sighed. “I think this might be it. I feel like she could… be in my life. Permanently.”

“She’s a user!” Minghao pointed out. “If she comes to you whenever her boyfriend lets her down, and takes advantage of you and your money because you’re needy with a kid, she’s a bad person.”

“She’s never asked for anything from me,” Jun says sadly. “I think you’re wrong.”

“She never denies your gifts, either.”

“Why would she refuse something I’ve already bought her?”

Minghao groans, head in his hands, his friend was not getting it—he’s just not getting it! “Listen,” he told Jun, “you are not asking someone that flaky for a real relationship. You won’t like what you get.”

“Why—”

“She’s still living with a guy!”

“You’re right,” Jun says. He sinks back down into his chair. “I’ll just ask her to move out, first.”

Minghao throws his hands up in the air and lets out the most strangled groan he’s ever made his entire life.

.

Jun can’t pop the question. It’s hard to just ask someone about their lovelife, even someone he considers to be as close as you. Of course he, with his small circle and busy life, thought you were close, and you knew everything about his life, but did you consider the same of him? He didn’t even know so much about you.

Plus, you never talk about your feelings. The only time you’d ever come close to that were the times where you talked about Guanhang, times when he eavesdropped, just to know what it’s like to be someone you loved, except it wasn’t him, and he could never imagine it being him.

So he thinks that’s where he should start: Guanhang. If you loved him, then you must hang onto him, and if he gets a straight answer about it then he’ll stop the pining. Plus, it would mean he has no chance.

He picked an evening where you were in your feelings. The sky’s a certain shade of blue, from all the citylights polluting the darkness, and it would never dim; you rolled down your side window and stared out, sometimes enjoying the velocity breeze but he just kept getting stuck in traffic, so the car was often still. “Y/n,” he says quietly, voice almost blending in with sounds of the city, “how’s Guanhang?”

“Oh, you mean the guy I live with?” you snort. You rolled your window up so you could hear him better. “He’s fine. Now that he’s taken up a second job we have less time to fight.”

“Do you love him?”

You gasp. “What?”

“Do you even believe in love?” Jun wondered. “I feel like you don’t really act that way.”

“I didn’t use to,” you answered honestly. You sounded so wise to him, he’d never heard you this way before. “But… one day, you know, Guanhang works at a studio, and I listened to one of the stuff he produced—there were like, 30 guys singing on a backtrack, but I knew immediately when his voice was in it. I could just recognize it.”

Jun’s heart clenched in his chest, and if he weren’t driving he’d double over. He hadn’t had his heart broken in so long… not since his broken engagement.

“And,” you say, “one night, Guanhang ‘borrowed’ his friend’s car and we went out of the city, to stargaze. We just had the radio to listen to, so we spent the entire ride driving past the suburbs screaming the lyrics to every song we knew. It was like a competition—and then, at one point, I stopped screaming. I just listened to him. I realized then that’s what love is? If that makes sense? Love is shutting up while you’re singing in the car because you want to hear their voice. And that’s the day I said it. ‘I love you.’ I’ve never said it to anybody before in my life.”

You looked over at Jun. “But now he’s just some guy I live with.”

Well, that wasn’t a straight answer. But he knew he could never ask you now. Guanhang was someone you’d always want to hang onto. With his ex, it had been black-and-white, she didn’t want him and he gave up. But Guanhang was always going to string you along, and he… knew he couldn’t compete. He’d never felt good enough for love, ever since his ex and the wedding debacle.

.

.

There’s a letter of resignation on his desk, a few days after that night. You had been growing cold towards him, nights where you slept over grew seldom and seldom until you just stopped. But you give him his coffee every day still, perfectly, even, without spillage, and it always tastes just as sweet, as sweet as only you could make it.

So it’s a shock to him as he read the letter, right in front of your eyes. “Why?” he demanded. He got so fired up he started speaking mandarin. “Wèishéme?!”

“I just…” you say, blinking tears away, “I just can’t do this anymore, and seeing you every day at work like we aren’t something is just...”

“Is it Guanhang?” he demanded.

“No,” you say. “No, I just… I just want positions I deserve. And I feel like I got here because… you liked me.”

“You’re here because I like the way you work,” Jun insisted. You don’t believe him. “No, I—I had this assistant that would color-code everything with custom stickers, but they were all pastel and I basically turned colorblind trying to read them, I had another guy assistant that kept asking questions and making me confirm everything myself, I had this other intern, right before you, that took pictures of me and Hao because he wanted to put it on his blog—Y/n, you’re great. I like that you don’t overcomplicate your systems, you sometimes spill things and trip and fall, but I don’t mind. It’s small flaws I never even saw—I didn’t hire you because of some… sexual ulterior motive. I like you. I like the way you work first, and then I just… fell for the rest of you.”

You looked conflicted, you watch him through your eyelashes. “I want to transfer,” you say, resolute but soft enough. “To Mr. Choi’s company—you know I’m more into that line of work, it’s what I studied. I just think a position there might be better.”

Jun tries to convince you to stay, but he was never a believer in his own self.

You leave, two months later, after treating him just like a stranger whose schedule was the only thing you knew about him.

.

.

.

Jun still has the promise ring, and it’s always somewhere in his pocket, although he hopes that one day he could just lose it, more or less accidentally, but the little velvet box always stayed somewhere in the pockets of his coats or trousers. He didn’t even know why it mattered to him, it’s not like you’d even touched it in your entire life. And yet… when he holds it in his hands, it feels to him like that sweet daydream that never became reality—he never got to touch it, but still, it’s so vivid.

Hao keeps asking why you’re not around, and Jun never knows how to answer. He explains the concept of resignation to the little boy, patiently, and Hao sort of begins to get it.

“So Y/n’s somewhere? In this city? And we just can’t see her?”

It’s supposed to be spring, but the wind still blows harsh and northern like the middle of winter, and it reminds him of you, because all the months you’d worked for him were so cold. He remembers you in your little trenchcoats and woolen things, trying to text with a smart glove on…

“Do you want to see her?” Jun asked Hao. “Maybe we just pay a little visit, for the last time?”

So him and his son are parked in front of the complex he always dropped you off, and he presses the bell for 3A, which you shared with Guanhang. When it buzzes in, Jun takes the little boy on his shoulders.

Guanhang’s waiting at the door, not knowing what he’s being visited for. “We just wanted to see Y/n,” Jun says, awkward because that was his rival he was talking to. “The little guy missed him, is it okay if he—”

“Y/n moved out,” Guanhang says plainly. “A month ago.”

But that was when you resigned. “Do you—know where?”

“That receptionist friend she had,” Guanhang says. “Moved in with her. I don’t fucking know. Don’t look at me like that, I tried to make her stay, too.” The door slams.

Jun calls the personnel office in his car with the engine on, as Hao swings his little legs on the seat. This was a revelation to him—you ended it with Guanhang, and even with him, and everything’s just so clear to Jun, now: you wanted things you deserved. You were starting over. You wanted to work for things yourself. He just wanted you back in his life, he wasn’t bad for you, he would prove it.

The phone comes through. “Hey! Good evening, it’s Jun—I just need to know where Choi Arin lives.”

“For something good, like a bonus, I hope,” replies the man working at the office.

.

Arin lives in another complex, closer to work this time. The apartment was on the third floor, and Jun climbed the stairs with Hao on his shoulders, once again, only for Arin to come out and tell him you didn’t live there anymore.

“It was just temporary,” she said. “She wanted a real place she could rent—I think Mr. Jo from security hooked her up with a free space in his flat.”

.

“Hey, Jun again… could you give me the address of Jo from security?”

.

.

.

He doesn’t know which floor you lived on, or even which side of the terrace. He tries door after door, and nice ladies here and there wanted to accompany him for the rest of the search. Then another man wants to see it through, too, and Jun entrusts that his son was grabbing the tail of his coat at all times, following him.

He’s gathered a bunch of people following him when he arrives at the new side of the terrance. He almost loses the motivation to go around asking a whole neighborhood if they knew you, when…

He could hear music, faintly coming from a ground-floor window. He followed it, knowing the melody well—you would hum it all the time, it was your favorite.

He knocks on the door it leads him to.

You come out with a bowed head, and you’re more beautiful than he remembers, although you looked even more tired. If you were living here but working at Seungcheol’s company, you must be waking up so early just to make it there at 9 a.m. Jun reaches out to touch you, as if he had been fooled and you’re just a mirage.

“Y/n!”

You extend your arms to the little boy, and he climbs up. Your laughter is light. “Hao! What are you guys—Jun? What is this?”

He doesn’t know how to start this. He fumbled around with the pockets of his paddington coat, and there were just too many pockets. After going through each of six pockets twice and coming up with just stray used tissues and car keys, he checks his pants, and there it was. He pulls out the little velvet box; a bunch of people gasp. You just mumble, “he wouldn’t.” But you don’t know if he would.

But there is a ring, although at closer inspection you notice it’s not for engagements. A simple promise ring, which you putt out to inspect, and ‘1.1. 00:00’ is engraved on the inside.

Your first kiss. You look up at him, and just when you’re about to speak, Mini-Wen wraps his arms around you. “Missed you, Y/n.”

“Y/n,” Jun starts, “I just—I—I wanted to ask you to be mine. But I was just—I was just afraid. I’ve had this phobia against relationships ever since Hao’s mom left me, and…” (the crowd ‘aww’ed) “I was afraid of getting close to someone again, if they might break my heart, and well, you did–you did, you left. But… I found out it doesn’t even matter. I’m happy to be loving you and getting my heart broken by you. I think you’ve got your fair share of broken hearts, too, but if you trust me—” you’re looking up at him with a brand new look in your eyes. He falters, splutters, as he always did when you look at him. “I can promise you I’ll always be here for you. I’ll keep your place for you, I’ll always protect you, I’ll—”

With Hao still in your arms, you step in and kiss Jun. For a second he forgets to close his eyes, and he just watches you, lips sinking into his. He knows exactly what he feels for you, except he’s just too scared to say what it is.

“Did my speech move you into kissing me?” He murmured against your lips.

“No, but there’s just too many people watching I felt the need to perform.”

Hao plants a kiss on your cheek, and suddenly you and Jun are kissing him back, on each cheek—Jun had imagined showing his son love with this, but it was only you that made it possible.

He brings you and Hao closer into him, warm and padded inside his coat.

“I think I was too preoccupied to tell you on New Year’s,” Jun says. “I hope you have a good year, Y/n.”

#jun x reader #jun scenarios #jun smut #jun angst #junhui x reader #junhui smut #junhui fic #svt fic #seventeen fic #seventeen x reader #seventeen scenarios #svt scenarios #svt x reader #svt imagines #seventeen imagines #jun imagines #junhui imagines #seventeen smut #svt smut #jun fluff #junhui fluff #seventeen oneshot

[ladykailitha]

Batshit Soulmates Part 9

We have just a tiny little epilogue after this that will be released next week and then this story is done. I know I tend do to happy endings, but this is more ambiguous (and hopeful) and with the epilogue I'm not nice. So if you want to stop here, you absolutely can.

In Medias Res| Prologue|Pt 1|Pt 2|Pt 3|Pt 4|Pt 5|Pt 6|Pt 7|Pt 8

We get everyone safe and sorted. And Steve's the one to break it to Wayne about Eddie.

****

The hospital was in chaos when Steve arrived. Whatever had happened, had torn the town literally asunder.

Lucas ran up and threw his arms around him. “She died! I could feel her die! Then she came back, but my mark–”

Steve had shown up at the hospital after hiding Eddie at his place until the whole murder charge thing could blow over.

“Hey, hey,” Steve murmured softly. “Let’s see it.” Lucas refused to let go, so Steve gently steered him over to a set of chairs and sat him down on one.

He knelt in front of Lucas and gently removed the shoe, followed by the sock. Lucas’s skateboard wasn’t black, like it would have been had Max actually died, but it was a sickly green and pulsed eerily.

“Oh, buddy,” Steve said and threw his arms around the young boy. “I’ve never see a mark do that, have you had it looked at by a doctor, yet?”

Lucas shook his head. “I’m afraid of what they’ll tell me.”

Steve nodded, but before he could open mouth the sound of cries erupted from behind him.

Steve turned around to see Charles and Sue Sinclair standing at the front doors to hospital. He barely managed to move out of the way before Lucas’s parents scooped him up.

“They tried to kill Erica and Max!” Lucas wailed. “So I hit him. Hit him until he stopped.”

Sue took his face in her hands. “Are you okay?”

Lucas nodded, but held up a bandaged hand. “Hurt my hand, but I’m fine.”

Sue nodded. “Is Erica okay?”

“Mama!” a voice cried out and Charles suddenly had an armful of Erica.

“Baby,” he whispered, “are you okay?”

He pulled back to look at his daughter, she had bruises on her face and arms but she didn’t appear hurt beyond that.

A doctor came over. “Are you the little girl’s parents?”

Charles nodded. The doctor preceded to go over her injuries and said that Lucas was quite the little hero taking care of his sister the way he did.

“How’s Max?” Charles asked, Lucas knowing the doctor couldn’t answer, not without speaking to Susan Hargrove first.

“She won’t wake up,” Lucas sobbed.

Sue hugged him tightly. “Her body needs to heal whatever was done to her, so it’s shut down until it can function. Okay, baby?”

Lucas nodded.

Steve watched the touching scene in awe. He was about to go home back to Eddie when he came face to face to an angry looking Robin.

“Robin!” he cried and swept her up in a hug. “You’re safe. Is Nancy okay? Max got hurt, but Lucas and Erica are going to be okay.”

“Nancy is fine,” Robin said, “and I did hear about Max. I hope she’ll pull through.” She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him. “But where do you think you’re going?”

“Back to my soulmate?” Steve asked with a lopsided grin.

“Not until you get your sides patched up properly and you get your back looked at.”

Steve opened his mouth to argue but knew it was futile. With a sigh he dug into his wallet and handed her a dollar. “See if you can get some quarters so you can let my soulmate know I’m getting looked at?”

She took the dollar and nodded. She spotted a vending machine and got a candy bar and the change she need for the pay phone.

Steve went up to a nurse and pulled up his shirt. “I need medical attention?”

She looked at the oozing bandages and then back up at him. She let out a long suffering sigh. And she told him to follow her. Steve did as he was told.

As she was stitching him up, she noticed the bats on his right forearm. It was pulsating black.

“You got yourself a truemate?” she asked.

Steve looked at the bats and nodded.

She chewed on her lip a moment and then said, “It’s that boy, isn’t it? The one everyone says done those murders?”

He just looked away.

“I’m not a superstitious woman,” she continued, “but my daddy was medical examiner for years, and let me tell you, there is no way one person could have done the damage the cops are saying was done to those poor kids.”

“You don’t think he did it?” Steve asked warily.

The nurse shook her head. “No I don’t. And you shouldn’t either. All this nonsense that Carver boy was spouting about your boy having demon powers or some shit, then why were there any survivors? If he could kill that McKinney boy with his mind than why did Carver and that other boy live to tell the tale?”

Steve just blinked at her in astonishment.

“And if Chief Hopper had been alive he would have put a stop to this bullshit before it even got going,” she insisted. She tapped his arm. “There, you’re done. I’ll have a doctor come in and subscribe you pain killers and give you instructions on how to take care of it.”

She yanked off her gloved and nodded curtly before vanishing out the door.

Steve didn’t have to wait long for the doctor to arrive. He went over how to take care of the stitches, when to come back and have them removed, and how to apply the lotion on his back to prevent scarring.

He nodded, taking the papers the doctor gave him as he wandered back out to the hospital waiting room.

There Robin was waiting for him, arms crossed, glaring at her parents. Almost as if she was daring them to deny her this, but from what Steve could tell, they were quietly waiting, too.

Steve called out to her and suddenly he an armful of his best friend.

“Careful,” he muttered. “I’ve got stitches now.”

She smacked his arm. “See? I told you needed to see the doctor. Now let’s get you home.”

Robin’s mom slipped into the driver’s seat of Steve’s bimmer and drove him to the pharmacy to get his medicines. Then she drove to his house where Robin and her dad were waiting.

“Take care of yourself,” Robin said into the huge, but gentle hug she gave him. “I want twice daily updates and if I miss one, I will hunt you for sport.”

Steve gave her a jaunty salute. “I’ve got someone who will take good care of me.”

“He better.”

Steve slipped into the house and sighed in relief as the pain in his arm subsided entirely. That meant Eddie was here.

And sure enough, Eddie came out of the front room and kissed him deeply.

“Are you okay?” he asked, cradling Steve’s cheek in his hand.

Steve nodded, leaning into the warmth of the touch. “I’ve got stitches and pain medicines and weird smelling lotions for my road rash.” He paused for a second. “Can it still be called road rash if I didn’t get it on a road?”

Eddie just shrugged. “I mean when you get it on a carpet it’s called rug rash, so...”

Steve frowned. “Rodent rash? Because bats are flying rodents?”

Eddie threw back his had and laughed. “Yeah, babe. Rodent rash.”

He bullied food into Steve and got him to lay down and sleep. It was a good thing Steve slept on his stomach as it was considering how torn up his back was.

Eddie radioed everyone he could reach and told all the news as far as Steve knew it.

Max’s condition was the biggest loss felt by everyone. Knowing that Lucas and Erica were fine, that Steve was fine, that settled a lot of the nerves that had been sparking through the Party.

Now all they had to do was wait.

****

Steve woke up the next morning to Eddie watching the news in the front room.

“What are they saying?” he murmured as he sat down next to him on the sofa.

“An earthquake,” Eddie murmured. “A fucking big one. Never mind there aren’t any tectonic plates for there to be an earthquake, but whatever.”

Steve didn’t know what he meant but nodded along anyway.

“How are you feeling?” Eddie asked after a moment or two of them just watching the videos of the destruction of their small town.

“I’m alright,” Steve said, leaning his head on Eddie’s shoulder. “I’m just glad you’re safe.”

“How’s Lucas?”

Steve sat back up. “He’s fine. Or as fine as he can be considering. His soulmark is still there, but it’s like nothing I’ve ever seen. It looks like a zombie or some shit, all green and pussy.”

Eddie grimaced. “That sucks.”

Then an ad came on saying for all those that need aid or for people who wanted to donate to come to the high school.

“I don’t have much of my own,” Steve murmured, “but I think I want to donate.”

Eddie nodded.

They went up to Steve’s bedroom and began sorting things. Clothes he didn’t wear anymore or didn’t fit for one reason or another. Steve really didn’t have a lot to give considering his parents took away anything they thought he had outgrown. Even before he had actually outgrown it.

Eddie’s heart ached for this boy who waited his whole life for someone to love him unconditionally. He made a vow then and there to be that for Steve.

****

The next day had Steve picking up Robin and Dustin to go to the high school. He pulled up next to Nancy and she got out of her mom’s car.

They all unpacked their donations and went in.

Robin and Steve went up to volunteer. She lady in charge eyed them warily but put Steve in charge of sorting the clothes and putting aside the stuff that was unusable. Then she put Robin with Vickie at the sandwich station.

Steve couldn’t hear what the two girls were saying but judging from the bright smile on Vickie’s face, and soft, shy smile on Robin’s that they had finally got on the same page.

Steve smiled and looked down at the little bats on his forearm. It was a little dark, but not the massive wound from their run in with the Upside Down.

Perhaps it was the danger they both were in that made it so angry.

Steve looked up and saw Wayne Munson taking down a missing poster for Eddie. His hand went up to guitar pick necklace that Eddie had given him when he got home from the hospital.

Suddenly he had an idea.

He got one of the stickers they were using to mark the non-clothing items for donation and stuck it to one side of the pick. He wrote something down really quick and walked over to Wayne.

“Mr Munson?” he asked gently. Even though he was sure of who he was because Nancy had described him, he didn’t want to presume.

Wayne looked up at him, his bloodshot and weary. “Yes, and you are?”

Steve closed his eyes and opened them slowly. “I’m Steve Harrington, your nephew is–was my soulmate.”

Wayne’s hand went to his mouth as tears threatened to spill.

Steve handed him the pick. “He sacrificed himself to save a lot of people, Mr. Munson. He was so brave. I think he’d want you to have it.”

Wayne nodded and Steve went back to sorting the clothes. He watched as Wayne’s rough fingers caught on the sticker on the back and turn the pick over.

His eyes went wide and met Steve’s. Steve winked but went back to working as if nothing had happened.

In as tiny writing as Steve could muster, he wrote: ALIVE, SAFE, HOME

He hoped it would give Eddie’s uncle the peace he needed for the time being.

****

Epilogue

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#my writing #stranger things #steddie #ladykailtiha writes #soulmate au

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Kay Francis (Jewel Robbery, I Loved A Woman, British Agent)— kay francis was an icon of glamor in her time and a top star of the 30s - she was the highest-paid actress at warner bros from 1930 to 1936. she tended to play characters who were charming, sophisticated, and elegantly dressed, and starred in at least one legitimate masterpiece, the sublime 1932 comedy trouble in paradise. her first big role was in the marx brothers movie the cocoanuts in 1929, and she and william powell made seven movies together between 1930 and 1932. even in her sillier movies she always elevates the material with her charm and presence - she never phones it in and there’s a sort of warm, knowing wittiness about her. a really good short promo from a retrospective of her movies that i think really gets her Vibe across

Elisabeth Welch (Song of Freedom, Big Fella, Dead of Night)— Starry-eyed, honey-voiced, magnetic. A Broadway star in the 1920s, she SHOULD have become a torch-singing Hollywood star when talking pictures came in. Instead she was faced with Hollywood racism, so she moved to Europe and juggled British movie roles and a top-class cabaret career. (Heard the classic songs "Stormy Weather" or "Love For Sale" or "As Time Goes By"? She introduced them all.) You need to hear her croon, so here she is co-starring with certified hot vintage man Paul Robeson [video below the cut]

This is round 2 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Kay Francis:

Jewel Robbery clip

"From 1932 through 1936, Francis was the queen of the Warner Bros. lot, and, increasingly, her films were developed as star vehicles. By 1935, Francis was one of the highest-paid actors, earning a yearly salary of $115,000, dwarfing the $18,000 Bette Davis – who would one day occupy Francis's dressing room – made. From 1930 to 1937, Francis appeared on the covers of 38 film magazines, second only to child sensation Shirley Temple's 138." Source: Wikipedia. Kay Francis is like the MOST FAMOUS Actress from the 1930s you've never heard of--and it was her and Norma Shearer who wore and made classic the 1930s tall, slim, bias cut silhouette. She ALSO has a WHOLE PODCAST episode devoted to her life and career in Hollywood--it's fascinating! She is both tough and a total wet cat.

One of the TALLEST Warner Brother stars at 5’9” and known as a “clothes horse” for her glamorous roles wearing the height of 1930s fashion. She fell out of popularity in the 40s, but her 30s work sizzles. The scene with her and Herbert Marshall in Trouble in Paradise where she says she doesn’t care about his reputation (because she’d rather sleep with him?) HAWOOGA

melted my gay heart with her butch look in stolen holiday

"My life? Well, I get up at a quarter to six in the morning if I'm going to wear an evening dress on camera. That sentence sounds a little ga-ga, doesn't it? But never mind, that's my life ... As long as they pay me my salary, they can give me a broom and I'll sweep the stage. I don't give a damn. I want the money ... When I die, I want to be cremated so that no sign of my existence is left on this earth. I can't wait to be forgotten." —From Kay Francis's private diaries, c. 1938

Elisabeth Welch:

#elisabeth welch #kay francis #fuck that old woman #hotvintagepoll #ladies 2 #Youtube

[hawnks]

Cat’s Cradle: 2

Gojo/reader, soulmate au

The Gojo clan is known for two things: excessive wealth, and indomitable strength. What couldn’t be fixed with one would be crushed by the other.

Their trade is demon slaying. A deadly job, as brutal as it is lucrative. They’re good at it, evidently. You catch word of their exploits through gossip, newspapers discarded by your charge. Satoru Gojo, clan head, is a force of nature, they say. A demon himself.

You wouldn’t know, having never laid eyes on him in all your years working here. Hidden in apex of a demon infested forest, the estate is vast. So many buildings it takes dozens of maids to keep them clean.

It’s better to keep your distance. Nobles are callous and fickle. Who knows what attracting the attention of one of them might bring you.

You keep your head down, do your work, get paid. You dream of moving far, far away. Out of the precinct. The country. Where demons are few, or maybe even extinct, and every moment of your life isn’t spent in the shadow of uncertain death.

And it’s fine. Until one day a demon attack turns the entire outer annex to rubble.

They’re of middling strength, but their number makes them fierce. The sorcerers, honed and nimble creatures, emerged from the dust unfazed.

But you’re not a sorcerer. And you don’t walk away at all.

Your medical care is the best you could ask for. A healer, all to yourself — as a low ranking servant, it’s almost unheard of. The attention you get, the comfort. They set you up in the main house, not even in the servants quarters, but a lavish guest room. It’s almost worth the excruciating pain.

By the third day, you’re mostly mended. Visitors are less frequent. The healer tells you this will be his last session with you.

The sun is setting when you hear voices rumbling just outside your door. An attendant, explaining your situation, your background, your job here.

Life-threatening injuries, but now in stable condition. Joined the staff straight out of school. A laundress, with the dry, cracked hands to prove it.

The attendant lingers over the particulars of your pedigree. Two sorceri parents, and yet absolutely no aptitude for it yourself. Barely any cursed energy at all. They reach some sort of accord, but you don’t catch it, too taken aback by Lord Gojo ducking through the doorway.

He’s just as dazzling and unsettling as you’d imagined. The other servants gossiped often about him enough that you had some semblance of what he looked like, but seeing him like this — it’s almost unreal. He looks like the kind of half-imagined entity you would see in a dream.

He smiles at you in greeting, hands folded behind his back, every inch the cocky clan head. He inspects you. Your face, your stress-broken fingernails, the places on your body that are still obscured by thick bandages.

Demarcation of weakness.

“You can take the evening to pack your things,” he tells you. “Be gone by tomorrow.”

You take a deep breath. Let it go. “Yes, My Lord.”

He peers at you for a long moment. Waiting for any reaction, a sign that the magnitude of this exchange has occurred to you.

You grit your teeth and refuse to meet his eye. You bite back tears — you won’t let him see you cry.

Your face betrays nothing of the shock and horror you feel. You’ve been prepared for this your whole life — the dismissal of your soulmate.

The beginning and end.

#:3c

[loosethreadstitchery]

Hi I just started embroidering two weeks ago but I’m also interested in cross stitching. Can you explain the difference between the two (if there is any)?

I can try! Bear in mind that I'm self-taught in a "keep stabbing it til it looks right and turn to books/YouTube only if I'm really stuck" way, so people who were actually trained could probably do this better, and I'm open to being corrected.

Cross stitch is a type of embroidery where each stitch forms an X. It's often, but not always, done on Aida cloth, which looks like this:

Each X covers a square of the cloth, so the result is a bit like pixel art:

If you have a line of stitches of the same colour, a lot of people will do a line of half-stitches, then work their way back (called the Danish method):

That's really down to preference. Personally I switch between Danish and English (where you complete each X before moving on to the next one) depending on the geometry of the pattern I'm working on. The main thing is that the top arm of each X should be facing the same way to keep the piece looking tidy.

That's the basic idea, and there are plenty of patterns out there that only use cross stitches. Some patterns will also use back-stitching for outlines or details. Generally you do the cross stitching first, then back-stitch over top.

The majority of what I do is actually blackwork, which is related to cross stitch in that it's a type of counted work (each stitch covers a set number of threads of the fabric). I mostly use Aida cloth, but any evenweave fabric would work. There are a number of different styles of blackwork, but the one I do most often involves back-stitching geometric motifs to fill a section of a larger design. The pattern will show lines on a grid corresponding to the grid of the cloth:

A few things that might help if you're getting into cross stitch:

Aida cloth comes in different sizes. You'll see it labeled as 11-count, 14-count, 18-count, etc. That tells you how many squares/stitches there are per inch, so your stitches on 18-count will be much smaller than on 11-count.

If you buy 6-strand embroidery floss, you'll want to separate it into individual strands. If you're cross stitching, then usually the lower the count of your fabric, the more strands you'll need to make each X form a solid square and avoid having fabric show between your stitches. I use fewer strands with blackwork, because it keeps the lines sharp and makes the motifs stand out better. The pictures above are on 18-count. I used 2 strands for the cross stitch, and 1 strand for the blackwork (note that varying the number of strands can also be a method of shading in blackwork, but I haven't really used that technique before).

Some stitchers will tell you that the back of your work should look as neat as the front. If you want to aim for that, go for it. I'm really only careful about the back of my work if I know it's going to be visible in the finished piece; other than that, my backs are chaos and I'm fine with that.

This was at best a really basic overview of cross stitch. Some patterns use things like half-stitches and three-quarter-stitches to get different effects or smoother shapes. Some patterns will call for higher count cloth (like 28-count or more) and have each stitch cover two threads instead of one (called working "over 2"). There are all sorts of YouTube videos and tutorials that cover these things better than I can, but feel free to ask any questions you have, and I'll do my best.

Above all, have fun with it, and I hope it becomes something you enjoy!

#ask #cross stitch #embroidery #fiber art #fibre arts #crafting

[sangoqueenkoko]

KAVEH

"how do you become accidentally married?" …part 2.

fluff

DENDRO MASTERLIST | DRABBLE MASTERLIST

Drabble prompt: page 1: #8 = "how do you become accidentally married?"

Warnings? Mentions of alcohol in general and of what could be blood (but it's actually red wine). Pet names mentioned (Honey, my Love).

Contains a mention of Alhaitham, slight mention of Nahida, and Kaveh of course!

1k words.

Here’s a part 2 no one asked for! @groovyparadisestarlight and @udretlnea sort of did

i wonder if this one will blow up like the first part…

‘Because he cannot remember what happened the night before.’

These are the events that lead up to the day after.

In a far corner of Lambard's Tavern sat you with a cup of the Taverns, in the words of Kaveh, “best wine one has ever tasted.” You were waiting for him to show up after a meeting with a surprisingly easy client. You would buy his drinks for him today as a treat for his good mood. As you don’t want to burden him any further than he already could be.

After you had finished a quarter of your first glass — as you didn’t want too drink to much before the occasion had even begun — Kaveh came bursting in, luckily it wasn’t so crowded just yet. So he didn’t disturb many people with his sudden appearance. Many.

He looked around the main room before spotting you and quickly making his way over, “(Y/N)! Great! You’re here!” He smiled as he sat opposite you. After he gave you a kiss on the cheek though. It was always a sweet gesture from him to you.

And him to you, only.

Anyway.

“So how was the meeting with the client?” You asked as you rested your chin on the back of your hand, gazing across the table at him. The question only made him more… happier than he was a literal second ago.

“Oh, right! Well, the client loved what I had in mind! He said that what I had thought and designed what exactly what he had in mind too! We saw eye to eye,” He exclaimed with a genuine grin before taking a quick sip of wine from the cup that you had poured for him, “and get this. He also said that he will help with most of the cost of it!! Can you believe it?!” He stood up with his hands on the table. You were genuinely happy for him, it’s the happiest you’ve seen him in a while.

“Wow! That’s great, Honey! And I am glad to see that smile of yours again.”

As the day went on, you ordered a few more drinks and a meal because why not? It’s a good occasion. More people came in and went. Locals and travellers. Speaking of travellers, a travelling bard from Mondstadt made a pit stop in Sumeru and tried playing their music, which was a hit. It was much different to what locals in Sumeru are accustomed to.

Faster pace, more upbeat, more… joyous. Lively. Something that was worth dancing to.

Evening came and the bard was back, they brought more people off the streets inside to dance. As that’s what a lot of people were doing already. Singing local songs and ones from other nations.

At this point, the two of you were a little drunk, ones with the vibes. It was the end of the week, so it was so worth it.

“Care to dance with me, m’dear?” Kaveh asked as he stood and offered a hand to you with a bow, the other behind his back. Looking into his eyes you would see the same kind, caring being he is, the only difference was that you saw more love and adoration in his eyes for you. You and only you.

“Of course, my Love!” You smiled as you held his hand and stood up.

The evening was… a bizarre blur. A lot of drinks, like different types of wine. Lots of singing with everyone in the tavern, and of course dancing. You vividly being on top of a table with Kaveh, and him spinning you around at some point. Though the owners didn’t do anything about it, I’m assuming that they didn’t mine it. Everyone had fun.

A little too much fun to be honest, to the point that The Corps of Thirty came in and closed down the tavern for the night as it was even quite loud and the sounds where quite brash on the main high street itself. Disrupting the peace.

But even after that, neither you or Kaveh wanted to go home. Even if it was best because of how drunk you two were.

But somehow, the pair of you traversed to the Sanctuary of Surasthana, and made it in one peace, where the Lesser Lord herself would be. During the nights, she would occasionally walk around the city to appreciate it in peace, and you so happened to come across her here.

Kaveh spoke to her and had the idea to ask her to officiate something and be the key witness for the occasion. And of course she agreed. Upon her asking what it was, Kaveh would say, in a heartbeat – yet drunkenly confident – “I want to marry this lovely being here” he pulled you closer, “(Y/N). (M/N). (L/N). The love of my life!”

She didn’t care what time it was, neither did you two.

The Lesser Lord herself, and the guards, served as your witnesses.

It wasn’t exactly how someone would want to be married, but to be married by a God herself? You better count that as a blessing for a bright future.

But the Goddess didn’t want something happening to the newly weds as you made you ways back down from the Sanctuary. So she escorted you both herself back home.

She granted you the sweetest of dreams for that night, and she knew that neither of you would regret the decision. Even she knew how close you two were.

It was about 2am when you got back to Kaveh’s shared house with Alhaitham. And surprisingly, you didn’t wake him up. Even if he sleeps like dead weight.

You stumbled onto the bed first, then did Kaveh. No type of intimacy was shared, apart from some loving words and light kisses. All before you both passed out asleep.

Let’s forget the red wine stains and glasses in the living room for now.

Just how will you explain this to Alhaitham later on?

So this is how you become accidentally married.

I ran out of steam towards the end. Sorry.

#gender neutral reader #genshin drabbles #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin impact x you #genshin impact kaveh #kaveh x reader #kaveh fluff

[pianokantzart]

The One To Blame (Part 2)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 A followup to my The One To Blame one shot. I took a poll asking if I should keep things lighthearted, but "hurt that plumber harder" won, so....

Content Warning: Blood, torture, vomiting, graphic descriptions of violence.

Needless to say things get a little rough, so I totally get anyone that wants to dip out or hold off until part three (i.e, the comfort part of this hurt/comfort fic.)

____________________

Luigi knew that he had put a fire flower in his pocket some time ago. Chances were it got smashed at some point between then and now, so he was unsure if it would still work. Even if it did, there was little good it could do against a monster who breathed flames that easily outmatched the heat of any powerup. But it was all he had. A useless powerup was better than no powerup at all, if only he could move his arms and reach for it.

Bowser's grip remained firm as he tromped through the halls of his castle, the troops that Luigi had so skillfully evaded just earlier clearing the way. Some who saw the man dangling helplessly in Bowser’s fist took on a look of sadistic smugness. Others didn’t care at all, wanting nothing more than stay out of the way of their king as he rushed past them, up a flight of steps, and into uppermost room of a fortified tower, where he shut the door behind him.

The dark cell was empty save for some old broken chains attached to the wall, suggesting that the cramped quarters had once served as a prison of sorts before being abandoned altogether. Bowser lit overhanging lamps with a puff of flames, filling the claustrophobic space with a dull orange light. “Beg.” The demand was spoken between clenched teeth uncomfortably close to Luigi’s face, acrid breath burning against his cheek like hot steam. “Come on, I know you can do it. I’ve heard it before.” Bowser shifted Luigi in his fist, curling the tips of his claws into his chest, stomach, and thigh. “Beg.” The sensation of talons slowly digging caused Luigi’s breath to hitch. “Don’t! don’t– it hurts! Stop! Please!!”

The mounting pressure didn’t cease. He felt his clothing tear and skin gave way soon after. He screamed, straining to remember the conversation he had overheard earlier, sputtering to find something that would soothe Bowser’s wounded ego. “You’re right! You’re right! You’re right! I should've never touched that warp pipe! I shouldn’t have come to this world! It was a mistake!” The claws stopped digging. The hold loosened slightly, his claws freeing themselves from the shallow puncture wounds they had created. Luigi felt what he knew to be blood soaking into his torn clothes, splotches of red spreading across his collared shirt and denim overalls. “I shouldn’t have talked to you like that when we first met.” He added with a sob, “I-... I’m sorry… your… majesty?” The respectful title felt sour on his tongue, his stomach twisting with shame even as the suffocating grip continued to soften, and Bowser’s look of rage became a self-satisfied smile. “That’s better.” Luigi took the opportunity to once again try to reach for the fire flower in his pocket, but Bowser– feeling him struggling– once more tightened his grip while his free hand reached over to squish the man’s face between his thumb and forefinger.

“You know… Princess Peach was so eager to ruin our wedding trying to save you…”

“Not just me! She was trying to save the Kongs too!” Luigi tried to argue, though with his cheeks painfully pressed in the koopa’s grip it came out as “Nuff jush meh! shewesh tine ta sefta konds tuh!” Bowser paid little attention, and continued… “... I wonder if that would be the proper wedding gift? I’ll let her keep you, just so long as she follows through with her marriage vows.”

When Luigi’s face was finally released he racked his mind for the next thing to say. The right thing to say. Suddenly, his mouth moved before his brain could form a plan, and all at once he found himself speaking from the heart. “Why can’t you just leave her alone?!”

The volume was soft, but the tone was sharp. Bowser responded with equal impulsivity, rearing back and flinging his captive into the wall. “Why!? I’m King of The Koopas! And what are you!?” Luigi had just enough time to adjust his body so that his back took the brunt of the impact instead of his skull, saving him from being immediately knocked out. Rolling to the ground, he heard the tyrant continue...

“You… the stupid underling of an undersized nobody! You’re going to wish I never stooped so low as to ask for your name!” Luigi braced his body up on an arm and dug his hand into his pocket. The fire flower was still there, slightly smashed but radiating warmth. As soon as he grabbed it he felt its energy coursing through him, offsetting the pain of his injuries enough to let him climb to his feet.

Bowser, seeing the powerup activate, charged his captive like a bull, horns positioned to run him through. Luigi met the attack with a flash of bright green flame intended to do nothing more than disorient, and in that he was successful. Bowser was lost for a second of blindness, barreling into the wall as Luigi dove out of the way. Evading the flying debris he scampered toward the door they’d come through. It was heavy, but it had been blessedly left unlocked, and as soon as he wrenched it open he slipped through and ran as fast as his legs could carry him. _____

The sound of stone shattering reverberated through the castle. Peach heard the rumble. Her heart stilled, and her grip on the bars of her cage tightened. “Kamek!” she called, turning her desperation toward the magikoopa guarding her. “Please, you have to stop him!” “With all due respect Princess, until you become the queen of The Dark Lands I don’t take orders from anyone except His Highness.” “I just want Luigi safe! I’ll agree to anything if you’ll only–!” “Even if I believed you… which I don’t…” Kamek interrupted, placing hand on his cheek, recalling the punch that knocked him unconscious the last time Peach agreed to wed, “... once he gets this angry, there is nothing even I can do to stop him.”

Peach opened her mouth to respond, when a flash of red appeared in the corner of her eye. She and Kamek turned in unison to see Mario appear in the entrance of the throneroom, charging toward them at top speed with a look of unshakable determination on his face. He was not nearly quick enough. Kamek, with ample time to draw his wand, cast his spell, and before his would-be attacker was even halfway across the room he was encased in a field of blue magic. “Hee hee hee! Cocky, aren’t we?” Kamek cackled. The captured plumber replied with nothing but a frustrated grunt, gritting his teeth as he was lifted in the air. “No!” Peach shouted. She threw herself against the bars in frantic desperation, but they did nothing but clang noisily under her efforts. Kamek barely even spared her a glance, his attention fixed firmly on his prize. “That’s two plumbers I’ve caught in one night! Although… I believe Lord Bowser’s orders regarding you were to ‘kill on sight.’” With that, he intensified the spell with a twirl of his wand, certain that the sordid affair would be over in seconds. But then, Mario’s body– or what he thought to be Mario’s body– crumbled in a very unusual way. There was no blood or breakage, but instead the little man fell apart like a dry sand castle, disappearing into the air as a fine powder. Kamek stood for a moment in stunned silence. Wand still outstretched he stared at the empty air in utter befuddlement, noticing all too late when Mario appeared once more, emerging from his hiding place behind Bowser’s throne. Armed with a hammer, he leapt down the steps leading up to the throne with a single bound, and swung. The magikoopa was downed with a single blow that sent him flying across the room, slamming into the base of one of his king's many statues. There he lay slumped and still, his cracked glasses sitting crooked on his face.

Princess Peach beamed with joy and relief. “Mario!” "Princess!" Mario rushed to her side. Before she could ask anything else he hurriedly confirmed her suspicions as he pulled a ring of keys from his back pocket. “I had a spare double cherry. Toad is busy getting us an escape vehicle, so I provided my own backup. Now hold on, I’ll get you out of here...” “No! Mario, wait!” She reached through the bars, took the plumber by the wrist and slipped the key ring out of his hand. “It’s Luigi! Bowser, he- it’s all my fault! I–” She bit down on her lower lip, cutting herself off. No. Now was not the time for panicked confessions. Not a second could be wasted wallowing in guilt. In an instant she collected herself and tried again. “Bowser took your brother! I heard a crash coming from the westmost tower. I think that’s where they went. You have to go. Now.” "Luigi?" A troubled look flashed across Mario's face. He nodded, but conflict shone bright in his blue eyes as he slowly backed away. Worry for his brother demanded he hurry, but concern for Peach stilled him. What if the key she needed wasn’t on the ring? What if Kamek regained consciousness? What if someone else caught her trying to escape? Perhaps he should try hitting the door to her cage with the hammer... would that be faster? Would that draw too much attention? “Go on,” Peach urged, jangling the keys in her hands, “I won’t be too far behind, I promise!”

Again, Mario nodded, this time with greater determination. "Please, be careful!" With that, he turned and sped out of the throne room, leaving the princess to sort through the dozens of keys in search of one that could unlock her cell.

_____ Bowser pulled his head from the wall and shook the rubble from his horns as his fiery red eyes glanced about the room, quickly finding the ajar door and the speckled trail of blood leading out of it.

He let out a grunt of annoyance, but he felt little more than that. Luigi hadn’t gotten far, he could still smell the man’s open wounds. Even before Bowser exited the cell he could already sense that Luigi had gone up the stairs to the battlements rather than down them toward the main corridors, probably preferring to try and find an escape route along the castle rooftops rather than risk the crowded halls down below in his injured state.

A risky choice. A stupid choice. There was nowhere to hide up there. Outside, thundering clouds of ash blacked out the sky, robbing the land of any semblance of sunlight. The world was lit solely by the molten rock that flowed about the castle’s base and the golden embers that floated about the air– burnt remnants of what little managed to grow in this accursed land.

Luigi, trying to ignore the oppressive heat, ran along the tops of the castle wall, one hand over his wounded stomach, the other putting pressure on his injured thigh. Thankfully no organ or artery had been punctured as far as he could tell, but at this rate moving too recklessly would sap him of strength before he found a place to hunker down and rest– some secluded archway or tucked away window sill, where he could settle his heartbeat, and tend his wounds. He didn't make it far before heard Bowser’s thundering footsteps fast approaching, his predatory silence far more frightening than any taunt or threat. But while the koopa was fast– far faster than any human– what he had in speed Luigi matched in agility, even in his injured state. Turning toward his pursuer, Luigi shielded himself behind another burst of green flame. He dove beneath Bowser’s legs and weaved about his flicking tail, taking advantage of every tiny gap and blindspot like a skittering insect, aiming flashes of fire at the koopa's eyes until finally Bowser– at the end of his already limited patience– tucked himself completely into his shell, and spun. “Whirling Fortress” was the name of the maneuver. He rarely ever used it, in most cases it was overkill, and if Luigi hadn’t had a powerup to absorb the blow no doubt the spikes would’ve done far more harm than sending him flying into the parapet. But it did the trick, disempowering and disorienting the green plumber enough for Bowser to once more take hold of him, and this time he intended to take full advantage of his position.

After pinning Luigi to the ground with one hand, Bowser grabbed the calf of his uninjured leg with the other, and twisted it all the way around like a ragdoll. A pained screech filled the scorching air as the joints of Luigi's knee, hip, and ankle snapped. The scream rose in volume and pitch as bone shattered soon after, until at last his leg was left twisted in a ghoulish, unnatural position. Bowser, satisfied, released his hold to let the mangled limb fall limp to the stone floor. “There. No more running away. No more hiding.” Luigi quivered from the shock, wide eyed and whimpering incoherently, but as pathetic as he looked, Bowser was surprised he had maintained consciousness. His vague sense of being impressed quickly turned into disgust, however, when then whimpering became retching, and Luigi poured the contents of his stomach onto the ground. “Look at you…” Bowser grumbled. He took hold of the back of Luigi’s head and smeared it against the mess he had made like he was disciplining an animal. “You can’t even take a little pain without losing all of your dignity.” “P-please.” Luigi sputtered, unaware that this time begging would merely trigger a fresh flash of rage. The grip on the back of his skull tightened, claws digging into his scalp as his face was brought back down against the bile-smeared stone with staggering force.

His nose was first to give way, his breathing immediately clogged with blood and a new, searing pain that reached behind his eyes. When he felt his head yanked back for a second blow he struggled to turn his face to save the nose from further damage. This resulted in his jaw and cheek taking the brunt of the impact. He barely succeeded in spitting out broken teeth before the third impact stole his will to struggle, and the fourth plunged him into darkness. The pain continued in unconsciousness, shockwaves of agony rippling out into every part of his body. Seconds felt like hours of drowning in the taste of rust and vomit before he at length awoke, dangling in the air by his wrist, held tight in that familiar, scaly grip. Bowser was talking to him… saying something… Luigi tried to open his eyes. Only one would open halfway, giving him a blurred glimpse of a scowling, draconic face. “Did you hear me? I asked you what exactly your plan was,” Bowser huffed, impatiently repeating his question. “Did you think you could jump out at the last moment and save Peaches the way you saved your brother? That you could bide your time until you found the right opportunity to make a fool out of me again?” The violent grip on Luigi’s wrist made it clear that he wanted an answer. After a few gurgling breaths, Luigi managed to speak with an agonizing slowness, feeling like he was chewing sewing needles with every movement of his jaw. “I just… don’t wa..nt… you to… hurt… anyone,” he stuttered, barely audible. Bowser rolled his eyes. “Adorable. Unfortunately…” Luigi felt his wrist break. He let out a meek cry, immediately strangled by the pain of his shattered mouth. “...You are going to pay me back for everything you’ve done.” Bowser leaned in closer to ensure he was heard, even as his prisoner teetered on the very edge of consciousness. “Once your brother is dead, once Peaches is finally mine, only then will I end your life the way it should’ve ended when we first met!” Luigi was too lost in the fog of agony and bloodloss to properly comprehend what was being said, nor did he notice the distant thud of wooden doors being kicked open, but Bowser's attention was immediately drawn to the new arrival on the rooftops. He half-expected to see a troop of palace guards, rushing to assist in a pointless, but noble effort. To his pleasant surprise, Mario alone emerged from the doorway to the battlements, as if summoned by the whispered threat. He rushed toward them, hammer upraised. When he was close enough to get a good look at his brother, that confidence immediately evaporated and he froze, a look of utter horror and disbelief etched into every detail of his face. Bowser wished he had a camera, but he knew it would only be a second before the plumber’s horror turned to rage. To prevent any further resistance, he gripped Luigi by the skull and made his position clear: “One more step and I’ll tear his head off!”

This successfully kept Mario paralyzed. His feet remained fixed to the floor, chest heaving, teeth clenched, white-knuckle grip tightening around the handle of his hammer.

_____

Peach eventually found the key to her cage. It was bright silver and etched with the words “the key to my heart” in cursive letters, small enough to miss the first time she searched. Nauseated by the adornment, she hurriedly unlocked the door to her prison. Just as she emerged into freedom, the princess was startled by a cannonball crashing through the wall nearby. It wasn’t close enough to hurt her or the unconscious magikoopa, but it rattled her senses, and with her hands balled into fists she rushed to see who or what had created the sizable hole in the side of Bowser’s throne room.

She– to her utter delight– was greeted by Toad, calling to her from the deck of a stolen airship. It wasn’t one of those dinky clown cars or a Shy Guy balloon, but a true airship– built like a miniature galleon and equipped with loaded cannons.

Toad alone was at the helm, struggling to comprehend the controls, but learning quickly as he kept the ship steady.

Princess Peach immediately boarded the vessel on his invitation. She took a place in the crow's nest, and as they stuttered off toward the western tower she gave direction and kept lookout. They dipped low, flying close to the base of the castle to avoid as much attention as possible. Whenever a few unfortunate guards noticed the stolen ship and took aim to take them down, Peach called out their location, and Toad returned fire to great effect. These defensive measures, plus the earlier damage to the throne room, caused a small crowd of guards in clown cars to gather at their tail, but their galleon proved swift and sturdy, easily outpacing their pursuers.

_____

Mario tried to think of a plan, but he was utterly transfixed by his brother’s body. It didn’t look real, smeared and crushed and bent all wrong. He could hear and see shallow, labored breath, joined by a groan of agony when Bowser began walking forward while dragging his broken victim behind him. Mario didn't know what to do. "Save him!" his mind screamed, barking substanceless commands in a flood of terror, "Get him out! Do something! Fight back!"

“The hammer.” Bowser growled, “drop it.” Mario obeyed. No sooner had the weapon left his grip he was plucked up in Bowser's free hand, arms pinned to his sides in a vice-like grip. Bowser, now with a plumber in each hand, slammed Mario into the parapet to ensure there was no powerup at play. Mario instinctively responded with a pained grunt, but otherwise seemed to pay no notice of his own position, keeping his attention fully on his brother. “Luigi!” He yelled, tears cracking his voice and blurring his vision. Luigi didn’t respond, but laid slack with his head still wrapped in Bowser's hand, the slow rise and fall of his chest the only indication that he was still alive. “You know, I originally planned for you to watch him die,” Bowser admitted with a tired sigh. “But I changed my mind. I think I’m done with you.”

No sooner had he said this, he reared back and threw Mario over the wall. A steep vertical drop awaited him, nine hundred feet down toward a wide river of molten rock.

______ Shading her eyes with her hand, Princess Peach caught a glimpse of Bowser atop the western side of the castle. She saw signs of a brief scuffle, then… a familiar red shape plunging over the side. Her heart stopped for a moment when she realized what she was seeing, and she urged Toad to increase the ship's speed despite the fact that they were already pushing the vehicle well beyond its limits. Toad, noting the panic in the royal's voice, did as he was told, and as the ship came into position with the stuttering groan of the overworked engine Peach leapt from the crow’s nest to catch her falling friend. Mario was snatched from the air with perfect precision. The floating properties of Peach’s dress cushioned the free fall just enough that when the two hit the deck of the ship, they were unharmed.

When Mario realized he was alive– saw that he was in good company– he reacted at first with a relieved sigh. The moment of joy was short lived, and his eyes were drawn back to the battlements overhead. “He-… he’s hurt!” The tone of his voice made Peach nauseous. Her fears all but confirmed, she held Mario a little tighter and turned to Toad. “Raise the ship’s altitude! Hone in on Bowser’s position! Hurry!”

“Yes, Captain Princess!” was the cheerful reply, Toad clearly not yet aware of the severity of the situation. With a salute he tugged on levers and twisted the great wooden wheel, drawing the bow of the ship upward at a sharp angle, sending them veering toward the rooftops where the shadow of Bowser loomed against the thundering black sky.

#my writing #Super Mario Brothers #Super Mario Bros #Luigi #Mario #Princess Peach #Toad #cw blood #cw torture #cw vomit #cw violence #angst #Mario Movie

[stickthroughthephases]

Bi-Han headcanons from the deepest part of my brain

Doesn’t believe in fiction books or doesn’t care to read them because he’s always been told to “gain knowledge” and he wasn’t allowed to read fantasy novels, the closest thing was reading up on the type of beings in other realms hence the entire dialogue with Nitara

Despite being a cryromancer, hates hates hates cold food and drinks, his tea MUST be piping hot (he never gets burned) as compared to Kuai Liang who leaves his food and drinks to cool down before having them 

Would make ice flowers for his mother since Artika doesn’t really have flowers growing from the ground

Takes long walks in the forest, at night, whenever he doesn’t feel in sync with himself and just kinda wants to reset and calm down

Doesn’t like to be touched, especially his hair, which is why he keeps it long because he hated people touching or cutting it when he was younger (Kuai Liang wanted to follow his older brother so he also keeps it longer, #twinsies)

Likes desserts that are milky and not super sweet (custards, puddings), will only eat deep-fried desserts during special events 

Always stays up to watch the first snowfall of the winter season (yes I know it is always cold but whenever the winter season begins, he waits for the first snowfall because he is sentimental like that, it is when he feels his strongest)

Insecure sometimes about not having complimenting powers as Kuai Liang as compared to Tomáš (Where there’s smoke, there’s fire), worries it affects the bond they share

Used to help sneak snacks out of the kitchen quarters for Tomáš and Kuai Liang because those two together couldn’t stay quiet long enough to avoid getting caught (he would always steal cookies from both, not because he actually wanted them but because they would always whine and try to hold the packets away from him, yes he’s THAT person)

Horrible to buy any sort of gifts for, nobody knows what he likes except maybe the brothers and even they are stumped on what to get him 

His father hated how he would always show attitude (sassy ass eyebrow raises, dirty looks, side eyes, eye rolls and more) but it made him do it more

Contrary to people's idea of him, I really don't think he is purposefully mean to those he loves/likes BUT he can overstep in the name of being honest or straightforward, doesn't like to beat around the bush or be fake with others (social skills are pretty limited)

He gives me vibes of someone who doesn't have many hobbies because he's a workaholic and training/being Grandmaster is his job

If you enjoyed this list, I will be back in 2-3 business weeks for either a part two or a different MK character!

#mk #mortal kombat #bi han #Bi-Han #lin kuei #mortal kombat 1 #MK1 #sub zero #Sub-Zero #headcanons #really wanted to think of things that aren't just an amalgamation of things I've seen about him on Tumblr.com #he's a really interesting person #source? my head and the brain of all Bi-Han fans #no one can stop you from projecting your ideal version of a character #seriously though #he's hot AND complex what more could you want in a guy?

[the-90s-music-colosseum]

Round 2 Group A Match 1

expand for propaganda ↓ (wall of text warning)

Thom Yorke:

"what other musician has a five minute compilation of his moans on stage ? yeah? no one? i thought so. vote thom yorke for my well being"

"He wrote all I need. (sexiest song ever written)"

"He made out with BOTH of the Greenwood brothers (damn)"

"Three Radiohead albums are on the top 10 highest rated album of all time, therefore his cock is massive"

"Vote him please or I will cry - microwave anon"

"I actually do have a locket with his face in it. I wear it everywhere 🙂"

"He was too hot in his Pablo Honey era cant change my mind🗣️🗣️🗣️"

"I just love him so much. He's such a cutie I want to put him in my pocket and take him with me everywhere :)"

"He wrote Spectre (sexy)"

"https://youtu.be/0YuENQZTV0k?si=EM9dx5Ye0bX6Xa4a"

"He would never evade his taxes like SHAKIRA DID."

"I want to meet thom yorke in a a record store where our eyes meet for a split second and we each notice what section the other is looking through and although neither of us is brave enough to start a conversation with the other we go home and fall asleep dreaming of what might have happened if we had gotten up the courage to talk to that cute person in the store and get to know them. I need him so bad it’s appalling"

"He's really cool!! He has had great character development over the years too if you're into that sort of thing. He has a really beautiful soul"

"gotta support grampa"

"hws so fine i want to turn him into a keychain so i can dangle him from my purse & jingle him whenever km bored… i will breath on him until it fogs all over then wipe him with a cloth to keep him clean Like a pair of glasses"

"If he wins I will create the most beautiful victory art you could ever imagine. (My 6th grade graphic design class will finally come in handy)"

"he's got that disease steez hes a flotsam fairy, you can sling him around like those stretchy hands you get in the quarter machine, he'll get mad for a minute but its fine"

"https://pin.it/1v99xvI"

"https://pin.it/4nvY08s"

"Has the voice of an angel"

"I had a dream once that I saw him and Jonny Greenwood walking down the street. I walked up to them and told them how much Radiohead meant to me and asked Thom if he could sign my Pablo Honey CD I had on me for some reason and he pushed me into open traffic and I got hit by a car and died. Jonny laughed. 10/10 dream got killed by Thom Yorke"

"He made Let Down in 1997. Shakira could never"

Shakira:

"ITS SHAKIRA SHAKIRA. le lo lo le lo le??? guys come on. do u even care about latinas."

"Shakira is genuinely hotter than most people on earth, so."

"No one else sounds like Shakira. No one else moves like Shakira. (Whether you think that's a compliment or not is up to you.)"

""is anyone even voting for Shakira" ME. I AM."

"She gives me huge Stacy's mom vibe. Like I'd come over to my friend's house not to hang out with them but to talk to their mom about how her divorce makes her feel and so I volunteer to help around the house or anything she needs. I'll take the task of cleaning out the attic with the black widows I'll mow the lawn on a hot summer day so she can offer me a cold drink for my hard work. Sorry I got lost in thought but she was part of my lesbian awakening and I will not take any Shakira slander"

"Shakira literally made me a lesbian <3"

#most attractive 90s musician #polls #poll #90s music #tournament #90s #thom yorke #radiohead #shakira

[moodymisty]

heyyooo! love your work! big fan! wondering if i might be able to request Crosshair with a breeding kink pretty please? this man lives in my head rent free and the brain rot is fkn real

< You are here | Part 2 >

Author's note: Ohhh, a challenge. I like. >:3 I will admit I didn't like Crosshair much at first, but he's been chipping away at me for ages and now I have the brain rot too so sameeeeeee

Relationships: Crosshair/Fem!Reader

Warnings: NSFW, What I would consider subtle breeding kink, mentions of pregnancy but not actual pregnancy, Unprotected sex, Creampies, Crosshair being a pouty little shit, Pre-Echo(sry bby), one mention of smoking though it can be taken as a metaphor not literally, Little bit of angst,

Hunter balls his hands into fists so tight his fingers shake, before threading them through his hand and pulling at the root. Boots clanging against the metal floor of the ship he walks into the cockpit, seeing Tech and Wrecker both already looking up at him.

"He is being impossible." Hunter flops in the co-pilot seat, groaning almost harsh enough to sound like a growl. Wrecker throws out a nonchalant hand, shrugging and shaking his head.

"He's been all grumpy for weeks now, not like we did anything to him..." Wrecker crosses his arms and glances in the direction of the back of the Marauder, where Crosshair is currently hidden.

Swiveling his pilot's seat so he faces Hunter, Tech continues threading a screw into his currently ongoing repair job while he talks.

"I can think of perhaps one or two theories that have the most merit as to why Crosshair is behaving this way." While normally Hunter is used to Crosshair's attitude largely defying any sort of figuring out, he still cracks an eye open to watch Tech explain himself.

"Either he's become irritated at the extended length of all of our current missions," That's a no-brainer, and the reason why all of them are on edge. Tech glances in the same place Wrecker had looked, before continuing.

"Or, he is upset because he's been away from her for such a significant amount of time."

That catches Hunter's attention, leaning up away from the back of the seat.

They've all known for a while that Crosshair had met someone, and had simply been playing it off so he could say so himself. He leaves for hours at a time and refuses to say where, along with Hunter being able to smell the irrefutable scent of a woman on him. But as expected he's kept it all a secret, acting as if him disappearing isn't unusual.

Part of Hunter was maybe a little bit insulted that he's not divulging something that significant, especially given that it doesn't seem to be just a one night stand.

But since his attitude and patience had marginally improved the Batch had elected to just take the win; Though it seems the inevitable downside was now this. They hadn't expected to get rerouted three different times so far, extending their current deployment by double what had been estimated.

He gets missing someone, but he just wishes Crosshair wouldn't be such an ass about it. He keeps biting at anyone who so much as glances at him, entire body tight and angry.

Hunter can’t help but sigh in relief knowing that they’re on track back to Coruscant, and they can get off the Marauder and stretch out away from each other for a bit. Even on the best of days, it’s not a good mix to be in such close quarters for so long.

"Lets just get to Coruscant ASAP; I'm going to go insane being stuck up in here with him for much longer."

The storage crate Crosshair is sitting on wiggles slightly, but held mostly in place by it's straps to the ground. Tech had secured this load this time after they routed to a republic base for resupplying, since they'd run out of their original stock of necessities.

But even as far back as he can possibly get it's not far enough away from his brothers, as he can still hearing them talking from all the way in the cockpit. His knuckles crack as he uses one hand to grip the fingers on his opposite, hunched over as his elbows dig into his thighs.

"Or he is upset because he's been away from her for such a significant amount of time."

Damn right he's fucking upset.

He finally finds himself someone that he likes, that he wants to be around, and he has to be stuck up in the Marauder for literal months. The last time they'd gotten rerouted he'd swore up a storm, knowing it would be at least another few standard weeks till they were back on Coruscant. Wrecker had gotten the brunt of it, and he feels a little sour stomached knowing that he shouldn’t have thrown that stuff at him. Wrecker didn’t do anything wrong, it’s just his desire to have some semblance of a life biting him in the ass. Clones don’t get to enjoy things, they get to shoot or get shot.

But he’s so fucking desperate that he swears he can see you right in front of him, with that stupid smile and wearing the used bodyglove he'd given you and let you cut up into something pretty. You’d put thumb holes in the sleeves and cut the bottom off, turning into a cute little shirt you could wear whenever. You’d even left the republic symbol on the arm alone, so it’s still obvious that it’s military.

‘It reminds me of you,’ He remembers you saying, and it felt like you’d shot him in the gut.

But instead of being with you he’s here; Stuck in a stuffy ship the same air recirculating over and over.

He wants to fuck you. Bad.

So damn bad that even you right now, the mere thought of you leaning forward to grab something off a table enough so that your shirt raises just a tiny bit up your back, has him biting his cheek almost enough to bleed.

No matter how many times he beats his head in trying to forget you exist for even just a moment, or waits until he’s alone enough to lock the refresher door and try and yank himself until he feels the need die down just enough that he can think about anything else, it doesn't work.

None of it does; His mind just keeps circling back to you. The way you smile at him, the way you talk to him, the way his hands look against your skin.

He should hate you for doing this to him. He should hate himself for letting this be done to him.

You're a good girl experimenting with a bit of the bad; To feel someone who isn't afraid to get rough. To taste the smoke on his lips and reach for him the moment he tries to pull away. He’s supposed to make you cry, make you want him.

You should be the one acting sick with love and yearning; Not him.

He's head over heels like someone in love for the first because he is; Other than one or two one night stands you're the first to make him feel this way. He's been having dreams even, mind coming up with scenarios each one more ludicrous than the last. But gods had they made him hard; Enough so that when he jolted up from his bunk he'd almost slammed his head into the ceiling, heart racing in his chest. He had to change the bottom half of his blacks afterward as well, as silently as possible.

Everything about this just makes him furious.

The moment they arrive in Coruscant space he’s standing up and waiting, his foot tapping the ground as he grips the wall for support. He’s not going to bother sitting down, it would be a waste of time. Tech will jostle them around as they land the same amount either way.

Hunter can probably hear him back here, though Crosshair doesn’t care either way. Whatever the rest of them think doesn’t matter to him at the moment, even less so than usual.

With a bunched fist he hits the panel to drop the gangplank the moment the Marauder's engines are off, not even letting them get cold before he disappears.

It's the dead of night when your eyes suddenly crack open, having to adjust to the such low amount of light in the room.

You don't know quite why you're suddenly awake, and after rubbing your eyes you lean up a bit, looking around the room. When there isn't anything out of the ordinary, you almost move to put your head against the pillow again to go back to sleep, until you hear it.

It's the soft sound of metal sliding on metal, and so you wrench your body from bed, grabbing the blaster from your nightstand and racing out into the living room to see if the door is open.

The main one isn't, though the one that leads to your patio is, with a figure standing in it just inside on your floor.

For a moment your heart completely stops, until you recognize the shape of the helmet they're wearing.

"Crosshair!?"

Your hands lower, seeing his familiar lithe silhouette in front of the patio. "Did you, break in?" He pulls the sliding glass door shut as you brush a hand along your hair and set the blaster on your counter.

"Yeah, and?"

He says while pulling off his helmet, before throwing it in the direction of your couch. It bounces twice before rolling to a stop. "It's the fifth story!" He seems to completely ignore your comment, and instead walks closer to you, an unreadable expression on his face. It’s so dark in here, the only like is from the patio windows and the one little light you leave on in the kitchen.

You're in your nightclothes of course, bare feet against the floor as you'd raced right from your bedroom after hearing him pick the lock. You hope no one saw him on the way up, but it’s unlikely Crosshair would’ve allowed that to happen.

Walking closer you can hear his boots hit your floor, and he comes into your personal space you let him; His hands laying on the tops of your hips and pulling you close. The edge of the countertop hits the small of your back as he traps you against it, seeing his eyes brush over your face.

He’s not saying anything, so you fill the silence yourself.

"I missed you." He makes a soft noise.

"Really?" His tone of voice is amused, and skeptical. The plates of his armor are rough against your palms, as they brush over his chestplate. You can feel each little scrape and dent, every moment where he might’ve gotten hurt had it not been there to protect him.

"Am I not allowed to miss you?" He removes one hand from your hip to take the toothpick from his mouth and flicks it in the direction of your trash, it bonking off the wall and falling in.

After he does so, he leans down enough that his lips are just barely hovering over your own, and you can just barely see the outline of his features in the dark. They feel so soft, brushing against you as he speaks.

"You're too sweet on me, sugar."

Maybe so, but you can't help it.

"But I don't think you missed just me, right?" One of his hands leaves your hips to cradle the back of your neck, tilting your head upwards. He's not wrong, you know you’ve missed the things he does to you just as much as himself. They keep you awake at night, more often than not. You don’t answer him, but your lips gently part as you look at him. His eyes are hooded, looking at you and only you.

"So what; You want me to love on you, or fuck you."

Crosshair knows what he wants, and he knows by the way you've grown pliant under his grasp that you want it too.

He moves closer to you until you have no option to sit up on the table you'd had your back to, him stepping in the space between your legs. His lips are rough against yours as he tugs up the fabric of your nightdress, so much so that one might wonder if he'd ripped it. It doesn't matter.

His gloved hand is slipping down the front of your underwear so fast that you don't even have time to question it, instantly pressing against your clit. He chuckles at the way your hips press towards him, already pleading for more. Always greedy. You’re so senstive and begging and he’s barely even touched you. It’s been too long.

"Nothing else worked, hmm?"

His fingers slide along your cunt, them just barely shining from the light pouring through your windows. He only pulls his hand away to bite the tip of his glove and pull it off, so you he can fuck you with his bare fingers. While he does, he's one handedly undoing his armor, letting it fall and kicking it away.

It feels good to take it off, and it feels even better for you to feel the softer slopes of his body, instead of the harsh edges of his armor. You slide off your underwear and throw them away, just in time for him to press his hand against you again.

His fingers curl inside of your cunt, making noises that almost embarrass you as his jaw presses against your cheek.

"Don't tell me you've been this wet the whole time i've been gone?"

He keeps trying his usual 'nonchalant and disconnected' schtick, with the snarky quips and knowing looks.

But each time his lips press against yours it's with so much desperation, feeling the way he grinds against you through his bodyglove as your legs wrap around his hips. He leans back to pull off his chestplate, and before it stops rocking on the floor he’s already back against your body.

He knows exactly how to touch you, fingers curling inside of you perfect while his thumb presses against your clit. You're writhing under his touch, desperately close after so long being unable to feel fully satisfied. The memory of his touch stopped being enough after awhile, and you’d suffered without it.

“Sometimes,” You sigh, feeling how tight your gut is. “I missed you.” You did, in multiple ways.

"I wanted you here; Especially w-" You suddenly stop speaking, too nervous to say it out loud to him. Maybe this isn’t the time to say what was on the tip of your tongue.

But Crosshair is too keen, and slows before looking down at you.

"Hmm?" He notices the way you suddenly look away from him, and only when he almost completely stops touching you do you barely mutter the words.

"I, thought I was pregnant. Right after you left."

You can still feel his fingers curled inside of you, stretching you. It hadn’t made him run, like you’d thought it might.

Crosshair doesn't know how to feel over the fact that those words fail to startle him, or that they send a jolt right down to his groin.

"It was just me imagining things in the end but," His hand moves and the way his thumb brushes over your clit makes you stop talking, gasping as your thighs tense.

"The good girl wanted a clone to knock her up?" Your face squishes. You hate when he calls you that. It sounds demeaning; Both to you and himself.

"Just- Dammit Cross,"

You say, cutting off anything else he might say. You hate when he makes you fluster under him like this, instead settling to just kiss him instead. Your hands fumble on his bodyglove before he pulls them away, freeing his cock himself. His hands grab your hips harshly and pulls you to the edge of the countertop, enough so that he can line himself up with your entrance and slowly press inside. He feels your nails through the fabric of his blacks, gasping as he slowly buries himself to the hilt.

You know Cross can be gentle, almost surprisingly so, but clearly what you'd said to him affected him to some degree; So much so that his hands grip your hips and leave dents, teeth catching your bottom lip.

He's rough, fucking you like he has one goal in mind.

Your arms are wrapped around his neck almost like a hug, keeping him close while he drives up into you. His hands and grabbing at your hips, keeping you as close to the edge of the counter as he can, without you falling off.

"C-Cross..." Fuck, he missed this. He missed the feel of you hot and wet and tight around him, and being able to fill you up like this until you're begging for him. More of him. He missed the feeling off your warmth on his skin; He's always ran colder, and secretly enjoys when your arms are around him and he can siphon your warmth.

Your legs tighten around his hips, keeping him as close as possible as his hips thrust up towards you. His cock barely pulls out halfway each time, staying so deep inside of you he keeps grinding against your most senstive spots.

"Let, Kriff- Let me cum in you.”

You don’t think you’ve ever heard him ask for something like that before; bordering on the edge of pleading. He says it through gritted teeth, hating that he let something like that slip. You grant him a mercy by whispering to him ‘yes, yes,’ against his shoulder.

The sounds of skin on skin fill the room as he thrusts his cock into you as deep as he can, brushing against every sensitive nerve within reach. You feel so hot and soft around him, your nails digging into him through his blacks as you clasp onto him. You would’ve let him even if he hadn’t have asked, but you can’t help the jolt that goes straight to your pussy at the way he wants to so badly.

He's so close you can feel him, the way he's uneven and swearing, and you grip him so tight he'd have to tear your arms off his body to pull out of you.

You suddenly feel him cum inside of you, as he hisses through his teeth in pleasure. His cock twitches inside of you, hips grinding against you as if trying to get impossibly deeper. He lingers until he’s finished, and when he finally does pull his cock from you, it's almost instantly replaced with his fingers. Pressing against your clit and circling, trying to help you chase the high you're so infuriatingly close to. He’s not just going to leave you hanging.

He can feel his cum against his fingers, mixing with your wetness as he drives his fingers deeper inside of you. Your thighs quake around him and he feels your hands grasping for anything to hold onto to keep you steady, mewling so sweetly for him.

"Come on doll," He mutters softly against your skin, teeth scraping against the soft skin just below your ear.

"Almost, almost- I,"

It's only seconds later than you finally do cum, body straightening up as your arms wrap around him, thighs trying to close tight. But they can't with him in the way, so they only wrap around him as he feels your pussy tense and flutter around nothing. He leaves his fingers against you for a bit, much more slow and gentle as he listens to your panting in his ear.

When he does finally pull away from you he glances at the way his cum slowly leaks from you, before glancing up and seeing your hooded, tired eyes as you lean back on your hands.

He'll never get tired of how this scene looks.

"Admiring your handiwork?" You dare to quip, feeling the way he gently smacks the side of your thigh to show his displeasure about it. It only makes you grin. Even if your heart is racing, you’re not tired quite yet. You can’t afford to be, you don’t know how much his time you’re going to have.

When you move to slide off the counter he lifts a hand a bit just in case, though you get down with no trouble. Your knees might be a little wobbily, but not unusable. The fabric of your nightclothes slides down, covering your messy thighs just enough.

"I wouldn't mind more, if you have any left."

The look Crosshair gives you is absolutely vicious, and just as quickly as the words leave you’re mouth he’s coming towards you. He's following, and quickly gaining, before he claps and arm on your shoulder and pushes you with in that direction with intent.

"Don't make promises that little body of yours can't keep up with."

#Crosshair just fits too well with my goodgirl/badboy cliché obsession i am so sorry #crosshair x reader #tbb x reader #the bad batch crosshair x reader #Crosshair/Reader #mywriting #reader insert #reader