#broke: drawing the main girls

[shapard]

Feather of Fate 🕊️

Lucifer x fem!seraphim!reader

Soulmate arc

Lilith being weird

Saturn

Chapter 6 < Chapter 7 > Chapter 8

You’ve never felt this out of place before. 

Even in heaven it wasn't this awkward.

You were sitting beside Lucifer who hasn’t talked since you’ve arrived here in the main lobby. 

Lilith was sitting in front of you all like she hasn’t been missing for 7 years.

Walking around as if she owns this place. And it angered you.

Charlie was happy to see her mom again after such a long time, but also was hella confused. 

Why is she here all of the sudden right before the extermination day? Charlie wasn't the only one who thought of this.

You too are confused at this ordinary timing.

Angel dust was concerned about you. 

You and Lucifer were now official but the appearance of Lucifers ex-wife was very overwhelming for you, and Angel could see it. 

And one guy was not even presence, and that was Alastor. 

Weird. 

Normally he’s always there when someone new arrived in here. 

“Who are you?” Nifty broke the silence, and all eyes were now on her. 

Lilith choose to Ignore Nifty, and she pouted. “So, you’re… His new girl?” Lilith asked looking you up and down. With her gaze lingering now on her you felt insecure somehow.

You hugged yourself to look smaller.

You nodded your head 'yes', even though you didn’t like the tone Lilith gave you. 

“She’s his girlfriend and she has a name big tits.” Angel said raising his eyebrows.

He didn’t trust her.

Not at all.

Lilith smirked and leaned back in her seat.

“I don't care. Really her Lu?” Lilith looked over at Lucifer and he looked shortly back.

his gaze went quickly to the ground.

It was obvious that Lilith still had Lucifer in her fingers, and it pissed you off. 

“Excuse me?” You decided to interrupt her cruel speaking.

She looked at you in surprise, and you huff in annoyance.

“You really think you can just come over here and talk here as if this place belongs to you.

Sorry for breaking the news to you, but you’re no longer the owner of this house, nor do you have the right to come here to Insult your ex.

You left him and I’m here. No refunds.” You Shaked your head, Angel dust smirked at you come back. 

He’s so proud of you.

Lucifer smiled, every day he gets more reasons to love you. 

“What are you even doing here?” Lucifer finally looked at Lilith and he felt nothing. 

No Love, no sadness. 

Lilith bit her lip hard, drawing blood. “Can’t I visit my little daughter.”

Lucifer raised his eyebrow, “You never visit nor called her in over 7 years. What changed!” No one gets after his daughter, not even her Mother.

Not even Lilith.

Lilith patient was running thin, she scratched with her nail into the wood piece from the couch breaking her nails in the process. 

She took a breath in and out. “I had a lot of important things to do.” 

Now y’all were raising a brow at this statement, besides Charlie.

She had faith for the first time that her mother wants to see her again. 

But you all had a valid point, why now? 

“It seems no one wants me here. I’ll leave, but I will come back.”

She looked now at Lucifer smiling at his angered face. ‘you’ll see’ She mouthed at him, he pointed towards the door.

And she left.

“That was way too easy.” Husk said that what all thought. She left you all dumbfounded. 

It was way too easy.

Angel shifted towards you and Lucifer. “So, you two a thing now?” You nod your head and smile brightly. 

He wanted to change the topic so you don't overthink all of this, and it worked successfully.

Charlie bounced up and down dismissing the weird visit from her mother. She's so excited for the two of you.

Charlie is a cutie pie, and you love everything about her. She is just like her father, the pros so the cons. Both just want to do their best for their beloved.

Even though they sometimes fuck up, it is always meant in a good way.

“You said It yourself seconds ago. Why are you even asking?” Lucifer asked and rested his chin on your shoulder.

He loves that he's shorter than you. Every time you two hugged he was always between your boobs. Even though he wears a hat to look taller.

Angel just shrugged and continued to drink his Malibu with his well known smile.

… Time Skip...

Lucifer paced around your room, and you watched his every move. 

You stood up and hugged his waist looking down into his eyes. Sometimes he was looking at you, but they travelled through the whole room most of the time.

“Luci, calm down. Nothing happened we are fine.” His strand fell in front of his eyes, and you put it back to its place, Lucifer clicked his tongue.

“That’s what’s worrying me. Why didn’t she do anything? I know Lilith since the start of earth, she wouldn’t just leave in those situations without a reason.” 

Lucifer leaned into you embrace letting out a distressed sigh. 

"Don't worry about it. You're one of the strongest beings, she wouldn't dare to put out a fight like Michael did." Lucifers sighs, you're probably right.

_____

“You just left?!” Michael laughed biting at his fresh manicured nail. 

His women staff around him tensed up, wanting nothing more than to leave.

Michael sent them away. They ran as fast as they could out of the room.

“And you didn’t even spy on them? Tried anything to get useful Information?! I really wonder why you divorced him and not the other way around.” He breathed in and threw a glass cup next to Lilith. 

“But you just LEFT?!” 

He shook his head, his eyes shining in pure blue. 

“They’re soulmates.” She whispered. Not looking at him with his icy cold eyes.

She hated that look in his eyes he was giving her.

He looked at her like she is a piece of garbage, something he should've got disposed of.

Something that now molds in one of his cabinets.

the only reason why she is still alive was her use for him.

And something else they both tried to hide and undo.

Michael’s mark burned in protest but it won’t stop him to punish Lilith.

“NO SHIT!” he leaned his hand in his palm trying to calm down. massaging his forehead hardy leaving a red fingerprint.

“Your plan failed Michael. It worked for a couple of Months but not longer. It seemed their bond grew stronger.” A loud bang echoed the icy cold halls in Michael’s mansion. 

The temperature was starting to get colder and colder. 

Ice started to grow around Lilith holding her tight in place. “I should’ve killed you a long time ago.”

He stood in front of Lilith cutting her cheek open with the same knife your blood was spilled. 

“I- I- have an idea!” Michael removed the knife from her cheek with ease.

Lilith feared him you thought? 

Feared was the wrong word.

She’s haunted by him. 

Every time she thinks she’s in peace, he reminds her that he has her in her personal hell.

The sharing Soulmate mark was burning on her skin bonding then for eternity.

“Tell me.” Michael licked Lilith’s blood away from her cheek and she shrieked trying to get away from him. But his ice didn’t let her move. 

“We can use her,”

Michael grabbed her chin turning Lilith head to him, “I already tried that Bitch.”

Lilith looked at Michael and shrugged her eyes at him, “But my idea is better.” 

Michael eyes twitched in annoyance, how dare she?

“On extermination day, we can take her away from him.”

______

You knocked onto Charlie’s door hesitant.

You were worried about her.

You know how it is with mommy Issues and when they try to gain something out of you. Out of your weakness and dreams. 

No one can destroy you like a mother can. No one can build you up like a loving mother. And no one can cause destruction like a mother.

You speak out of experience with your mother Sera.

Even though you’ve almost spoken no words with Lilith, she seems kind of like an asshole.

It was all Lilith's fault which caused Charlie and Lucifer being so distant to each other.

Saying always Lucifer was too busy to see his own daughter, which isn’t even true. 

And telling Lucifer that Charlie doesn't want to see her own father.

You didn’t like Lilith at all.

Charlie opened the door and was shocked to see you there. 

“Y/n?” You briefly smiled to her, “Can I get in?” She tilted her head and gave you a concerned look. “Did something happen with dad?” 

You shook your head laughing a bit, “I just want to know if everything’s alright with you? Just a quick check.” Charlie nods her head, not looking you in the eye. 

“I can see when someone’s lying my dear.” Charlie looks up to you, “pfft- No. I am completely fine! really!” She laughed you off, pushing you out of her and Vaggies room. 

“If you say so.” You said, not really believing her. Charlie puts her thumbs up and closed the door right in front of you. 

So that’s how Lucifer felt.

Not a nice feeling.

You can understand Charlie, you’re new. New to this Family, new to her. 

So, you understand when she doesn’t want to share her feelings with you. but it was worth a shot. 

You didn't spend much time with Charlie nor her friends.

You talked sometimes with Angel or with Husk. They seemed nice.

You had once a conversation with Alastor and Lucifer wasn’t really a fan of it. 

Lucifer creeped behind you and gave Alastor a rude comment.

He growled at Alastor and pushed you away from him. 

Since then, you always keep yourself distant from Alastor. 

You walked towards the bar seeing Angel and Husk drinking some cocktails and shots.

You sat beside Angel, telling husk to make you a good drink. 

“Never seen you drink alcohol before. Tough day?” Husk asked grabbing some bottles from the shelves. “Nah, just want to try something new.” 

Angel looked you up and down smiling. “You look different.” His fingers drew circles on the bar table, biting his lips in a sexual matter. 

“Did you and the short king finally get into some action?” He pushed his chest fur up and fluffed it a bit. 

And here we go.

Of course, Angel will notice.

Your cheeks redden, feeling the sudden embarrassed. 

“What? No- where did you get that idea from?!” You started playing with the glass that husk laid in front of you moments ago. 

Angel frowned, “I do sex for a living toots. But except that, everyone can see it even if you’re blind like a fish.” Angel rests his head on one of his many hands and raised his eyebrows at you. 

“You’re not a good liar kiddo.” Husk said and Angel snorted, “Ya see! Even Mr. grump cat can see it.”

Angel smirked at Husk and continued to tease him. They both stopped giving each other shots when they heard your joyful laugh. 

“What?” They both asked in sync.

“You two are like an old married couple.” You continued to laugh out loud.

Meanwhile Husk and Angel were a blushing mess blabbering “No’s” and dismissive comments about how they act. 

“Married couple? No, nah. We two? Never, haha!” Angel blabbered and husk agreed by him. And this went on and on for the rest of day.

Angel, Husk, and you got way closer. 

This was a great day so far. 

But there was an unsettling feeling building up in your guts, telling you to run. 

And you couldn’t figure out why. 

Walking back to your room you saw Alastor on your way back. 

‘Please not him’. 

“Look who we have here!” His smile was unsettling, you wanted to leave before he could try anything to you.

You were all alone and he could use this advantage. But he wouldn't right?

“Oh, hey there Alastor. Sorry we can’t chat any longer, I have stuff to do.” You waved him a goodbye and rushed away from him. 

Please let it work.

“What stuff?” 

Alastor teleported himself in front of you scaring the shit out of you.

You screamed and fell right onto your butt.

A stinging pain was growing in that area. 

“Ow! Wtf Alastor!” You looked up at his well-known wide smile and all he did was smirking even wider.

“You know little Angel; you seem to get comfortable in here. I’m glad you like this beautiful hotel! Do you-“

“Darling! Y/n?!” Lucifer called out for you. Interrupting Alastors chat with you, his ears quickly shifted to the well-known voice which was calling for you. 

Lucifer heard your little scream, and he quickly followed the red string feeling that connected the two of you. 

Alastor hummed and disappeared into his own shadows.

Lucifers eyes shifted around the hallway cursing that this place is too large to find you.

Finally he found you lying on your butt unmoving on the floor.

“Are you okay? What happened.” He helped you up to your feet searching for any damage before looking up to you. 

“Yeah, I guess. Just a weird encounter. Don’t worry about it.” Lucifer sighs but didn’t pry any further.

He trusts you that you’ll tell him when something is wrong. 

When you both were lying in your bed, and he was cuddled all up in your lap. 

All you couldn’t help but think about this unease that thrilled behind your head and in your guts.

It was making you sick, as if you got a rare disease.

You played with his angelic golden hair, hoping it will calm that feeling down, to no success.

It didn't help.

You decided to speak up about this, with Lucifer. Maybe this would help.

“Luci?” He hummed, “I have a bad feeling about this.” He sat up, scared that you mean the relationship you two formed.

Fuck I phrased that wrong. You internally screamed at yourself.

“About what?” 

please, please be something else, please. I thought everything is perfect. Lucifer begged in his head.

You looked onto your shelf where the duck he gifted you was resting. A replica from himself just in a duck form.

It glowing in all their might. You loved this duck; it just was so adorable and remind you of Lucifer so much.

“I don’t know, to be honest. Maybe it is the extermination.” You scratched the back of your head.

Lucifer sighs in relief. Thank God it's just that.

“Don’t worry your head about it Apple pie. Nothing will happen to you.”

Oh, how he will regret saying that. 

A/n: What do you think will Lilith and Michael do with Y/n?

Annnd one final Question:

💫

@ayanazoldyck @marydragneell @lunaryasha @cherry-cola-100 @lxkeee @latersgaters-steven @fandom-crashlanding @cupidsgift @steadyconnoisseurnacho @crimsonflameproxy @stormz369 @wooleypeaches @fukingsad @starlitvenus @avadakadabra93 @itzabbeym @asmodeussimpnumber1 @sirenetheblogger @k1y0yo @i-have-no-life-charlie @angelicwillows

A/n (again):Thank you for all the lovely comments, likes and repost<3 And FOR THE 300 FOLLOWERS DAYUM. We got new pookies❤️

btw I'm sick so if this chapter (or the next) comes later than normal I apologize.

#shapard #y/n #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin lucifer #lucifer #lucifer morningstar #hazbin hotel lucifer x reader #lucifer hazbin hotel #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer x reader #michael hazbin hotel #lilith morningstar #lilith hazbin hotel #feather of fate #fanfic

[thelaisydazy]

I saw your firefighter post! And I didn’t know if it was recent!! So I’ll drop one in! Firefighter141 x reader. Where captain price leads his team on a call for a burning down old run down cottage! And that’s when they meet you- a sweet southern girl! Whose food she cooks and words are TOOTH - ROTTING. I like to think firefighter141! Live in like a sorta deserted town. With a diner here and there and cottages! So a burning Down cottage is a BIG thing! And they’re so caring and protective of you! I hope you enjoy this asks as much as I am! - 🎀

I love the idea of them in a little middle-of-nowhere town with just a few things around. I'm mandating a forest as well though.

Not sure if this is exactly what you're looking for, but this made me want to write Price comforting the Cottagecore Cutie.

---

You're shaking. Your world is crashing down, and all you can do is stand in place in front of your perfect little cottage, watching uselessly as it burns down. 

You don’t hear the sirens. You don’t acknowledge the arms that wrap around you, leading you away from the footpath leading to your front door. You sit on the cool metal of the fire engine.

“You’re alright luv,” the firefighter says. Behind him, the small brigade starts in on your home, fighting the blaze that ruins it. A gloved hand gently touches your cheek, drawing you from your catatonic state and to the man in front of you. 

Captain Price. 

“Stay with me sweet thing,” he says. “Is there anyone else inside?” You shake your head and he reports into his radio. “What happened?”

“I.. I don’t..” you start, trailing off. You’d been baking. You were always baking something. Tears sting your eyes as Price shushes you gently. 

“Just breathe,” he coos. Seeing you still shaking, he shrugs off his massive jacket and drapes it over you. It smells of cigars and something woodsy, it’s comforting. 

“I was making cookies,” you finally say. “I left the room for just a minute, and there was a boom and-”

“Your gas line broke,” Price supplied. Your cottage was outfitted with old appliances, it wasn’t surprising something failed. He reached for his radio. “Johnny, find the gas main and shut it off.”

Tears stung at your eyes. “I.. I’m sorry,” you hiccup, guilt weighing in your chest. Everything was gone. Your home, all your belongings, everything. Before you can say much else, Price’s strong arms pull you into his chest, wrapping you in his warmth. 

“It’s not your fault luv,” he says. “You’re safe and that’s all that matters.” 

#141 firefighters #call of duty #cod #task force 141 #tf 141 #cod 141 #141 x reader #john price #firefighter!john price #firefighter!141 #firefighter!price #john price x reader #dazy speaks

[queenimmadolla]

𝐁𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬

(Tattoo Artist!Eddie Munson x Apprentice!Reader)

Summary: . . . After deciding you were meant for more than what life had in store for you, you gave into the siren call of the city─well a city. But when city life finally eats away at your bank account and your main source of income isn't reliable, you take on an apprenticeship at a tattoo shop where your boss is the six-foot something, tattoo covered Eddie Munson who quickly and unwisely becomes intrigued by you. Nothing romantic can come from it, lest you risk it being torn apart by your past, his lover and yourself.

Entire Work Warnings: 18+ (smut will take place in later chapters), swearing, financial problems, mentions of loss, escorts/call girls, age gap (Eddie is 36, reader is 25), financial shaming, slut shaming, implied sexual harassment, bimbo!reader (she may not be book smart but she knows the score) angst, self-sabotage.

a/n: based on my initial post and elements of Breakfast at Tiffany's. next chapters will be significantly juicer, this was just something to get us going. this is dedicated to @munsonology, happy birthday and I hope this year was a good one! and a very gratitude filled thank you to my dear friend, @kitmon, for continuing to be an an amazing beta! hope you guys like it so far ♡ (attempting the keep reading feature, fingers crossed)

word count: 5k

“They don’t bite.” “Hmn?” Came your absent-minded reply, eyes cutting from the harpy, evil in her eyes and blood soaking her talons, to the man flipping through the red binder you’d been carrying around you in the Indianapolis heat. 

  Sweat evaporated off your skin, giving away to goosebumps in the air conditioned shop, a much welcome relief to the borderline unbearable heatwave settling over the city streets, something that can be found in every nook and cranny. You’d been navigating your way throughout the city since before dawn broke, eager to get your fill of it while the streets were quiet and a decent temperature. It had been almost chilly this morning, your thick strapped tank top and daisy dukes—that you normally wouldn’t allow yourself to be caught dead in—leaving most of your skin exposed, with no direct sunlight to warm it. Now that the sun was out, you were on fire out there.

“The artwork.” He glanced at the framed harpy drawing along the wall, the one you’d been staring at, one of many framed depictions of gruesome and mythical looking creatures. “I don’t blame you though, that one isn’t particularly my favorite. Pretty badass, though. Heh.” “Oh,” You shook your head, the oversized shades adorning your face sliding down the bridge of your nose, “No, I’m not afraid of it. I like it. It must have taken forever though.”

  You turned your attention to her again, admiring how realistic her feathers appeared. Painstakingly detailed and whoever was walking around the city with her on their body surely endured a generous amount of pain to get her. 

  And a large hole in their wallet.

  “It took a ton of sessions, for sure. My boy did it a couple years ago.” The man, Argyle, as he’d introduced himself when you’d first walked into the shop, flipped his long black hair over his shoulder before he flipped to the next page of your portfolio. He let out a sound of appreciation as he leaned his weight on his elbow, hand resting over his mouth.

  “This is good! This is really good!”

You lifted your chin to peer at the drawing he was fascinated with. Ah.

It was a drawing of the skeletal Grim Reaper, cloaked in a black robe and scythe clutched in one hand while his boney middle fingers stretched his eye socket holes down in an obvious taunt. A tongue, black and tendril like, lulled out of his mouth.

You thought it was pretty good, too. The idea for it had struck you at a party, you’d been hiding from an annoying suitor and ducked into an office room, doodling to your heart's content once you grew past your boredom.

You grinned, a feeling of giddiness beginning to bubble inside you.

“Listen, the DM’s out right now, running some errands. He should be back soon, can I hold onto this?” Argyle asked, gripping the sides of the binder and raising it as if you didn’t already know he was referring to your portfolio, “I think he’ll be pretty impressed with your stuff.” You fidgeted with your fingers, giddiness giving away to nerves once more. “Really? You think so?” Hope was something you hadn’t felt in a while; you’d been through exactly fourteen tattoo shops throughout the city, most of which you’d been rebuffed from before they so much as flipped open your portfolio, having already decided your particular aesthetic didn’t fit their image. They hadn’t verbalized as much, but you knew. You glanced down at your pink boots, already such a stark contrast to the black beams beneath your feet.

It wouldn’t be a big deal if you hadn’t made a wager with yourself, you could only go home once you’d accomplished your task of getting one of the shop owners to actually look at your work. While Argyle had made it clear he wasn’t the head honcho, he’d be passing it along.

“Yeah, man! This is some pretty legit stuff! I’ve been tatting, myself, for a couple years now, and I’m good–don’t wanna flex or nothing but I’m really good. Only it took a couple of years for me to actually get this good, you know? And I’m not even talking about on skin. You haven’t tattooed anyone before, right?” You thought back to when you had mentioned your art skill to a brief...something, he’d been intoxicated enough on expensive wine and your sangria kisses to encourage you to use the tattoo kit one of your friends had re-gifted you after her interest in the subject waned. You’d never particularly imagined yourself etching into people’s skin before, not even when she’d given you the supplies because she’d seen some of your doodles.

Thanks to her, a suit and tie you no longer spoke to, who made more money than you’ll ever see, was walking around with a secret under his briefs: a pair of shiny cherries on his left ass cheek.

  It was no loss to you. Sure, he made money. Just not nearly enough for you to tolerate how aggressive he’d been with his affections as soon as he was sloshed. You’d given him the tattoo with his drunk pals cheering him on, went out to a very high standard club, then promptly ditched him the moment you were out of his sight. You hadn’t answered the door when he came pounding on it the next morning and the morning after that.

  You’d originally had no intentions of using the tattoo equipment, until that encounter. It had planted a seed, an idea that may get you out of what you had to do to survive. Tattooing hadn’t been a passion, and it still wasn’t quite one but you needed money and you had talent.

“No,” You lied with a shake of your head, “I haven’t.”

“That’ll change soon,” he laughed, closing your binder as he leaned further over the glass counter. Your gaze briefly flickered to the jewelry it housed.

  “You got a number we can reach you at?”

  You’d scrawled the number of your landline down on the back of one of their business cards before Argyle could rethink his decision to pass your work along. 

  “Hopefully, we’ll see you soon!” He called out as you retreated towards the door.

  God, I hope so.

  The thought of a somewhat stable job that could help the pitiful state of your checking and savings account was the only thing powering you through your long walk home. You couldn’t risk a cab, that would mean you’d have no fare money for tonight, and who knows if you’d have to make a speedy exit?

  You’d learned. Eventually.

  Forty-five minutes later, you entered your apartment, sagging back against the door as you dropped your bag and kicked your shoes off, unconcerned as to where exactly they’d landed. 

  Sweat glistened over your skin, and unlike in that last tattoo shop, there was no air conditioning to cool you. You and Sid saved that for special occasions.

  Instead, you opened the large window to the fire escape, obnoxious sounds of the city you called home filling the apartment.

  It wasn’t much, but it was better. Next came the matter of your clothes, stuck in the most uncomfortable of ways to your flesh. Your tank top was peeled off and thrown over the couch, daisy dukes abandoned near the entryway of the small kitchen on your way to the bathroom.

  A quick glance was spared behind you, taking in the state of your shared home. It was a mess and not even remotely surprising. The place was barely furnished with the essentials, all of which were secondhand: a couch, a coffee table with a sheet over it to hide the stains, one shelving unit, a rug and tapestries hung artfully on the walls for deception. They made the place look more put together than it was, but you’d love it even if it were still barren. A roof over your head in the city meant you didn’t have to return to the past you’d clawed your way out of..

  The only thing worth much was the framed photo on the kitchen counter, and that was only in sentimental value. You and Sid, arms around each other’s shoulders as you sat in a booth at a shitty diner you’d tried upon first moving to the city. They’d taken your photo for being the 600th customer and tacked it to the wall.

  You’d stolen it and had no regrets because you got to keep your memory and ended up getting food poisoning.

  With a shrug, you entered the bathroom for a much needed scrub down and some disassociating. Your mess could wait.

  ─

  Eddie was not in a great mood when he walked into the shop.

  His jacket was clutched in a sweaty palm, rings twisting around the flesh of his fingers and his bangs were beginning to stick to his forehead, all the result of the walk from his fucking car to the shop door. 

  “Grumpy?” Argyle asked, amused with the clear annoyance on his face.

  Eddie sneered, standing under the vent for a minute to cool down, “Triple digits. Triple fucking digits out there, man. You could shove a thermometer up the devil’s asshole and it’d be cooler than that.”

  Once he’d solidified, he stalked past the front desk, threw his jacket onto the counter and picked up a stack of mail.

  “Did I miss anything?” Eddie asked as he flipped through the envelopes, mostly junk.

  “A couple of walk-ins. Nothing too major there, handled them myself. Simple stuff, one wanted a goldfish. Not like a detailed one, like how you’d try and draw a goldfish cracker. We did have a few who wanted a couple of advance pieces, got ‘em booked for consultations with Johnny boy and Rob.”

  “Nice,” Eddie chuckled under his breath at the mental image of the goldfish tattoo, most likely an act of affection. Tattooing people who wanted to permanently carry reminders of their children was one of Eddie’s favorites to do, partially because of the sentiment but mostly because the drawings were amusing.

  He’d just finished tossing out the junk mail when he reached for his jacket to hang it up properly and discovered it had been concealing something. 

  “What’s this?” Eddie asked as he lifted the slim red binder. Looked relatively new.

  “Huh?” Argyle glanced up from the sketch he was working on, recognition flashing across his face, “Oh, yeah! We got a prospective new hire, someone dropped off their portfolio.”

  Eddie rolled his eyes and heaved out a heavy sigh as his jacket was tossed aside yet again. He had nothing against other tattoo artists, but the last one he’d hired that hadn’t come from his friend group ended up nearly destroying the group. 

  Henry had been charming, good at his job and charismatic. Turns out, he’d also been a master manipulator and had a particularly abhorrent temper. Tensions had been high, heads were butting and fights had occurred—with a permanent reminder in the wall near the front entrance where a large hole had been punched through. Henry had to go.

  Eddie wasn’t looking to repeat the situation.

  “I think we’re good on artists around here–and put a reminder on the calendar for me to patch that damn crater up.”  

  “Well, it’s a good thing the artist isn’t a tattoo artist. Yet. I’d look at that portfolio first before making any decisions, if I were you. I think you’re gonna see the beginnings of something goooooood, and dude, you’ll be killing our fun if you fix it. Do you know how many glory hole jokes we tell?” Eddie ignored the latter half of Argyle’s statement, reluctantly flipping the portfolio open to the first page and annoyance began to associate itself with him once more. 

  A body, in a state of decomposition greeted him. But it wasn’t maggots or rotting flesh involved. Flowers grew out of the crevices, with moss and mushrooms over her skin. A lot of fine line work.

  The next page was home to a bird-like creature with the body of a lion, a Griffin. Done in American Traditional.

  A skinny, demonic looking goat with horns and legs long enough to belong to a horse, clouded eyes and wyvern wings was on the page after that. The Jersey Devil. Someone knew their Cryptids.

  The portfolio contained a vast amount of drawings from horror depictions to more aesthetically pleasing visions; the hydra, skeletons, dragons, goddesses, respectable attempts at the modern Renaissance pieces, and even a couple of Barbie references, ranging in a variety of tattoo styles. 

  Eddie closed the portfolio and drummed his fingertips across the countertop, scowling. 

  That long haired doofus was right. This was beyond good work. But if they weren’t a tattoo artist, there wasn’t much Eddie could do with them. Drawing on paper is a much more different experience than skin. Mistakes can be erased on paper, the sketch done over again. Can’t do the same on flesh. 

  It’s intimidating. 

  They’d have to start off slow, like he had. Trained under a watchful eye, an expert who’d guide them with experienced hands. He was sure Jonathan and Robin would be eager to have an apprentice.

  But before Eddie would even begin to entertain the idea of an apprentice in his shop, he’d have to see exactly what it was he was working with.

  “Leave a number?” He asked without looking at Argyle because he knew he’d see nothing but a smug expression.

  “Yup.”

  “See if you can get him back in the shop tomorrow.”

  “Why not today?”

  “Because I have a session for the rest of the day, remember?”

  “Oh, yeah! I forgot.” Argyle’s grin was sheepish as he read off the calendar. “Stacy Peterson called. Car troubles. Unable to make it to appointment with Eddie. Rescheduled. Heh. So…you also missed that.”

  “I’ll strangle you later, just get him in here then.”

  Argyle opened his mouth, then closed it as an expression that said I know something you don’t crossed his strong features. “Righty-O, boss. I’ll give him a call.”

  You’d been lounging in the bathtub, hair up and out of the way, eyeing the grooves of the shower tile. They were a permanent taunt, stained dark no matter how hard you and Sid scrubbed and you hated the sight of them. 

  People with money didn't have to stare at them, able to afford to have them professionally cleaned or the shower wall—the entire bathroom renovated.

  Someday, that would be you. 

  You sunk further into the water, toeing at the faucet when the shrill sound of the landline filled your more than humble home. The thought of simply letting it ring played in your head until you remembered the tattoo shop you’d visited last. 

  Hastily rising from the tub, water was splashed along the floor while you did a terrible job of drying off and ran naked the rest of the way to the living room, almost slipping as you did.

  The receiver was yanked off its post, “Hello?”

  “What’s up, Dudette? Argyle calling, dunno if you remember me from earlier…”

  “Yeah! From the tattoo shop, right?”

  “Right-O! Listen, The Dungeon Master is in and he wants to see if you can get down here to show him what you got. Possible?”

  “Yeah, it’ll be no problem!” You’d have to run most of the way but street traffic around this time wasn’t that bad so you wouldn’t have to fight your way through bodies.

  “Cool, cool, cool. And between you and me, this is pretty much the interview process. Good luck, dudette, and may the force be with your tattie skills. I’ll see you when you get here!”

  As soon as you’d hung up, you ran to your room to get dressed. You didn’t have much of a wardrobe, but it wasn’t high on your list of priorities considering you and Sid practically shared one. Another tank top was selected—to mitigate sweating on your way to your interview—along with a gifted pink thong and matching bra. You’d snagged your Daisy Dukes from the floor on your way out, shimmied them on, grabbed your small bag and keys and headed out.

  The selection of attire was a good one, the heat was still stupidly unbearable and heavy. You’d need to wash off again tonight. You’d managed to make it to the shop in under twenty-five minutes, having ignored all the looks you’d received as you hurried along the streets and the feeling of the air conditioner on your skin was a welcome one when you made your way back into the shop.

  Argyle greeted you with a bright grin from his place behind the counter, throwing up his hands, “You made it! One sec.”

  Then he turned his upper body to call into an area you couldn’t quite see into, “Oh, Eddie boy! Your prospect has arrived.”

  You hadn’t cared to entertain ideas on what your potential boss could look like, all you were concerned about was the position and getting your foot in the door. Even if you had tried to imagine him, nothing could have prepared you for the actual sight of him when he emerged.

  He was big, tall and cloaked in black, despite the heat of the city. He wore what you figured had once been a black t-shirt but was now lacking sleeves and a proper neck hem to be considered a makeshift tank. His pants were shiny leather and also tight, hugging the muscles of his thighs, and he sported a dark pair of pointed boots.

  He wasn’t particularly muscular enough to be the body builder type, but it looked like he could probably pick another grown man up with ease. His skin had a light tan to it, barely anything really, just like everyone else, he obviously couldn’t escape the sun. It was littered with intricate tattoos, weaving up his arms—a few you could tell disappeared under his shirt—and his neck.

  The word freak was permanently etched in black ink along his temple and over his eyebrow. Two silver balls decorated his other eyebrow.

  Leaning up against the back wall like that, arms crossed to make the muscles of his arms bulge slightly and oozing confidence, he looked like the personification of some really good sex.

  But he wasn’t what you were seeking out and you didn’t like to mix business with pleasure.

  Eddie was caught completely off guard, trying to school his shock and keep his composure.

  When he’d seen that portfolio, he was expecting someone with jagged edges, piercings galore and more than just a couple of tattoos to be behind it and standing in the entryway of his shop.

  Someone who looked like their art.

  You…didn’t. With your little pink cowboy boots, tank top that accentuated your figure and shorts so small, they should’ve been considered a form of underwear, you didn’t look at all similar to what Eddie was expecting. Not even if he closed his eyes.

  You didn’t waste time, quickly introducing yourself as you stepped up to the front desk and Eddie pulled himself from his stupor, closing the distance to shake your palm. Smaller than his (though most were) and slightly sweaty, no doubt due to that god forsaken heat outside.

  Eddie could see bits of your hair sticking to your skin, little beads of sweat prickling over your exposed collarbone and trailing down, down between your─

  “Thank you for taking the time to even look at my portfolio! I really appreciate it.”

  Eddie blinked hard, clearing his throat before smirking to pretend he hadn’t been drawn in by your chest.

  What the fuck was wrong with him all of a sudden? 

  He’d had plenty of beautiful clients, he’d tattooed nice asses, tits, pubic regions, thighs, all the beautiful areas. Now all of a sudden he was acting like he’d never seen a pair of tits before. 

  Hell, Eddie had been thoroughly busy with a pair, held them in his hands before he came into the shop.

  Professionalism, he reminded himself.

  “Not a problem, what I see—saw was pretty impressive,” Nice save, Eddie, you dick. He cursed himself, “You adapt well to different styles.”

  “Thanks!” You chirped, excitement filling you at the praise. It was so nice to hear positive feedback about your work instead of being sent out of a shop before they so much as opened your binder. “I like to experiment with different styles, see what it is that people like so much about them and honestly, it’s mostly because I haven’t quite found my art style just yet.”

  Hence your range, you were constantly expanding with your art because you hadn’t found one style you wanted to make yours yet. Or maybe you had and just didn’t know it yet. Whatever.

  Eddie and Argyle exchanged a look before he stepped back and nodded in the direction he came, “Why don’t you follow me? Show me what you can do?”

  You didn’t hesitate, stepping past the front desk.

  There was more artwork lining the short hall he took you down until you arrived at another room, obviously one meant for actual tattooing as there was a tattoo chair in the middle of the room. 

  On one of the counters, was an area already prepped for you. A tattoo gun, some ink, and some obviously fake skin that rested on top of a disposable sheet cloth, along with some gloves.

  “Argyle tells me you haven’t worked on skin before.”

  Sure you haven’t.

  “Not a whole lot of people lining up to get tattooed by someone with no experience,” you shrugged, following him over to the counter he was leaning up against.

  “You’re hanging around the wrong crowd then.” He joked and you let out a small laugh.

  He had no idea how right he was.

  “The first tattoos I ever got were from inexperienced people. This one,” he gestured to a Wyvern on the back of his arm, “I got my junior year of high school from a waitress at a bar I always snuck into.”

  “And this one,” he yanked the tattered collar of his shirt down to expose more ink, but the one he was referring to was a spider, “I got my first senior year from someone I did…business with.”

  First senior year? Eddie was proving to be an interesting character.

  “But enough about me,” Eddie released his shirt, allowing it to hide the artwork depicted on his chest, “let’s get down to business.”

  Before he could even explain what everything was, you dropped your purse onto the counter nearby, pulling a small box of unopened gloves from it.

  “You mind?” You asked, fingers poised to rip it open.

  “Go for it,” He shrugged. Gloves were gloves, so long as they were uncontaminated he didn’t mind.

  You tore into them and Eddie was still somehow surprised to see they were pink. Clearly his black ones weren’t your style.

  “Can I ask you a question?” You asked as you pulled the gloves on. Eddie watched you, intrigued as you finished assembling the tattoo gun without his help and opened the ink pack. 

  “Sure,” He mused, eyeing you skeptically. Hadn’t tattooed anyone but you were clearly familiar with it. Interesting.

  “Did your tattoos hurt?”

  Eddie waited until after you’d started the tattoo gun and got into working on the fake flesh. Apparently you already had an idea in mind.

  “A bit of an amateur question, you don’t have one?”

  “Nope.” You confirmed, paying him no mind as you leaned forward, gaze focused solely on your task, “I kind of want one but I’m not in any particular rush, you know?”

  Eddie made a sound of agreement, at a brief loss of words as you arched your back, ass sticking out and he became painfully aware you were wearing a hot pink thong, the tails of it peaking out past the top of your denim shorts. He should’ve offered you a seat but you didn’t seem all that bothered with standing.

  No, that was apparently his foil, because he was incredibly bothered by you standing, especially with your ass out like that; when it made his pants tighten considerably in his crotch region.

  He was getting hard. 

  Eddie was mortified, stiffening (go figure) as he attempted to calm himself, eyes darting away from your ass to stare at one of the cabinets. Of course this had to happen to him on the day he chose to wear a pair of pants that left little to the imagination should the boy downstairs start acting up.

  Don’t look. Don’t look. Don’t look.

  “Hurts, depending on the area, which I’m sure you already know. The tattoos on my back and my thighs hurt pretty bad. Forearms were a bitch, but nothing I couldn’t handle. The ones on my wrists and hands were the worst, pain wise, in my opinion. Obviously it didn't stop me, but those tend to be areas with a lot of bones, veins and very little muscle, so it’s expected.”

  You hummed in response and his gaze briefly flittered over to you before his cock pulsed and he tore it away again, grateful your attention wasn’t on him.

  The remainder of the ‘session’ was spent in relative silence with the music playing through the speakers installed throughout the shop, keeping it from being awkward. Eddie had just managed to will his erection away when you finished, setting down the gun before you pulled your gloves off.

  “What do you think?” You asked, still admiring your work and Eddie peered around you to assess it.

  A wyvern, similar to the one on his arm but done in a fine line style.

  He chuckled, amused with your reference and you fought valiantly with yourself not to grin. You were trying to impress him, sticking with a subject he liked enough to make it a part of him permanently, but you hadn’t imitated the style of it to keep from downright copying and to showcase your ability to adapt.

  “That’s pretty good,” And it was, not a whole lot of people could get lines that perfect or seem as confident in their abilities on their first try. Still, Eddie could tell you’d have some ways to go before you were ready to be on your own, “but you can do better.”

  You tried not to frown, “Oh.”

  Eddie smirked and you finally turned to face him, apprehension on your face.

  “Don’t look so down. After some time around here, watching us work, you’ll be ready. The apprenticeship will fly by in no time.”

  “Wait—you mean—you want me?!”

  “I’d be stupid not to.”

  You let out a squeal and threw yourself at him, giving him a quick squeeze before your brain caught up to your body and you pulled away.

  “Sorry, sorry! I’m just so excited.”

  Eddie cleared his throat, shifting his body away from you and rasped out, “Argyle will have the paperwork for you to fill out.”

  “Got it,” You grabbed your bag and was just about to head out of the room when Eddie called your name, “Huh?”

  “Be back at the same time tomorrow. You’ll be practicing on real skin.” 

  “But I thought you said—” 

  “Me.”

  Something in you bubbled with excitement and nerves.

  You nodded once and then left the room to see Argyle for your paperwork.

  “So?????” Argyle asked once you’d approached him, a sullen look on your face. 

  You couldn’t keep the act up, beaming as you practically bounced, “I’ll be seeing you around more often now!” 

  He whooped, extending an arm out for a high-five which you reciprocated.

  “You are gonna love it here, Dudette. Just wait until you meet everyone! First, we gotta start on your employment.” 

  Your brows furrowed as you watched him go through a filing cabinet.

  “Wait—this is paid?”

  “Yeah! We’re not big on slave labor here.”

  Score for you! You had a feeling you wouldn’t be clocking a ton of hours but every single penny counted, especially considering how hard of a time you had actually building a savings account.

  Argyle had walked you through the paperwork, where to sign, what things meant and since the shop was getting ready to close up you’d simply just bring the completed paperwork back with you tomorrow.

  The door chimed behind you and you turned to see who could be coming in at the last minute, eyes widening at the voluptuous woman before you. Her hair was long and jet black, skin pale (apparently one person in this city was capable of defying the sun) and make-up done so elegantly it reminded you of actresses from the silver screen era. Her dress was simple, black and hugged her curves exceptionally well. You could tell it was worth more than everything in your apartment combined and you’d feel bad about it if you also couldn’t tell she was older than you. 

  You’d have time to get there.

  “Hey, Deidre.”

  “Hello, Argyle.” She gave the both of you a dazzling smile as she removed her sunglasses and walked right past Argyle, down the hall you’d come from.

  He didn’t even look surprised and paid her no real attention.

  “We’ll see you soon?”

  “Damn straight.”

  Argyle let out another cheer as you walked out the door with high spirits. Not even the nasty, hot air could get you down.

  You’d climbed up the stone steps until you reached the sidewalk and glanced behind you at the neon sign depicting the name of the tattoo shop you’d now be working at.

  “Welcome to The Dungeon,” You mumbled to yourself with a smile. 

  You turned back to the sidewalk, staring down at the pathway you’d have to take before you thought better of it, sticking your fingers into your mouth to give a sharp whistle.

  It caught the attention of a cab driver down the street, and you gave him your address when he’d pulled up and you’d hopped in, ready to prepare for tonight's plans. You deserved a little break, after all, you were one step closer to securing the future of your dreams.

  Eddie sagged against the counter once you’d left the room, scowling down at the bulge that had reappeared in his pants when you’d hugged him.

  Why his body was suddenly acting like he was a horny teenager again, he had no idea.

  He wasn’t about to do anything about it, though. Not when you’d be hanging around the shop for the foreseeable future. Eddie didn’t get involved with his employees. He’d worked in a couple of shops where he’d witnessed that occur and it always ended in a mess. Not a good kind.

  He busied himself with cleaning up, tossing away the supplies you’d used and storing your first piece of work. It’d be nice for you to look back at once your apprenticeship was over. When Eddie had nothing else to clean, he sighed and rubbed at his eyelids. 

  Platonic. Professional. God, if he couldn’t keep his dick in check, he’d be in a world of trouble. You’d be trouble.

  “Need a hand?”

  Eddie snapped around, relieved to see it was just Deidre. Explaining why he had a boner to anyone else wasn’t something he was keen on doing. In fact, he probably wouldn’t be telling her exactly why, either.

  Taking her up on her offer, however, was something he would eagerly do.

  “Are you offering yours?”

  She laughed, setting her purse down on the counter where your bag had been just a few minutes ago, and walked right up to Eddie, her body pressed against his and grinding onto him as the older woman slid her arms around his shoulders.

  “Mmm, not just my hand.”

  All Eddie knew next was the taste of her red lipstick. 

#tattoo artist!eddie munson x apprentice!reader #tattoo artist!eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #older!eddie munson #he's older than me so im counting it #eddie munson x reader angst #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #bimbo!reader #eddie munson x bimbo!reader #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x black!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #Between the Lines

[vanteguccir]

I love you | Paul Lahote

Paul Lahote x reader

Summary: Where Paul finally gets the courage to say "I love you" for the first time.

Warning: None.

Requested?: Yes, on Wattpad.

Author's note: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

Y/N's eyes slowly opened as she tried to adapt to the brightness of the space, rays of the morning sun completely entered through the window covered only by a thin curtain, keeping the room warm and comfortable.

The girl turned her head as she stretched lazily, a smile stretching across her cheeks as her eyes stopped on the face of her boyfriend, Paul, who was lying on his back, eyes closed and small snores coming from his half-open mouth.

Y/N shifted her body to the right, facing Paul while her head rested on his bicep, which served as her pillow every night she slept at his house.

Her eyes traveled over his face, which carried a relaxed expression. His long eyelashes rested on his tan cheeks, and his nose moved slightly from time to time, showing that his mind was immersed in some dream. Y/N felt like she could stay there all day, her left hand drawing small shapes on her boyfriend's bare chest.

After a few minutes of admiring him, the girl felt her hunger speak louder, sitting up slowly so as not to wake Paul, smiling in relief at not seeing him move even an inch, showing that he felt extremely calm and safe in her presence.

Y/N slowly got up from the bed, casting one last glance at Paul before starting her steps out of the room and towards the kitchen, her hands using the black hair tie on her wrist to tie her hair into a high ponytail.

The girl entered the kitchen, a yawn escaping her lips. She walked over to the small radio on the counter and played it, leaving it on the station she always listened to with Paul, turning down the volume a little so as not to disturb her boyfriend's sleep.

Y/N walked to the fridge and opened the door, vaguely observing the items inside, deciding to make a creamy scrambled egg with buttered bread and a fruit salad with yogurt, knowing that Paul felt hungrier than normal and a simple loaf of bread wouldn't sustain his stomach for more than 30 minutes.

She took what she was going to use, placing it on the sink and doing the same with the cabinet, organizing separately what she would use for each dish and starting to prepare breakfast.

With the bread already in the toaster and the water already heating for black coffee, the girl took a ceramic bowl and broke five eggs there, stirring them with a fork.

Sounds of footsteps echoed through the hallway between the bedroom and the kitchen, but it was imperceptible to Y/N, who was too focused on her action and the music coming from the radio.

Paul leaned his body against the threshold of the kitchen door, crossing his arms as his eyes admired his imprint preparing coffee for both of them while softly following the melody on the radio, a smile stretching across his cheeks at the scene so homely, free from weight and worry from all the chaos that has surrounded the supernatural beings of Forks over the last few months.

The opening whistle of the song "Home" by Edward Sharpe & The Magnetic Zeros sounded through the room, catching Paul's attention. That song was considered one of the main songs of their relationship, as it played during the first bonfire that Y/N attended as Paul's companion. The memory of the two of them dancing together late at night, bare feet on the sand, surrounded by people they loved and lots of food was engraved in their minds.

The boy walked away from the door, going towards Y/N, who swayed her hips to the beat of the music as she passed the eggs to the frying pan on the stove.

Warm, strong arms surrounded the girl's waist, causing her to jump in place in fright, her right hand flying to Paul's arms while her left went to her chest, trying to calm her racing heart.

"You scared me!" Y/N said loudly, slapping weakly her boyfriend's arms, taking the spatula from the sink and stirring the eggs in the pan before it burns.

"Sorry, my love. Good morning." Paul responded in a whisper, resting his head in the crook of his girlfriend's neck, breathing in the natural scent of her skin and the body cream she had applied the night before after her shower. "Remember this song?"

"How can I forget? It's our song, it marked the beginning of our relationship." Y/N responded in a low voice, not wanting to burst the bubble that seemed to settle around them.

"Yes, I will never forget you dancing in that beautiful white dress that night, the bonfire behind you, and the smell of food in the air. Remembering that memory makes me love you even more." Paul commented with a goofy smile on his face, closing his eyes briefly, seeming to see the scene in front of him again.

Y/N's right arm, which was previously moving the spatula against the eggs, suddenly stopped, catching the boy's attention, who raised his face and moved so that he was next to his girlfriend, watching her with confused eyes.

"You love me?" She asked in a whisper, turning off the heat and dropping the spatula into the frying pan, turning around and facing him.

Paul replayed in his mind what he had said seconds ago, the understanding that he had said that he loved her flashed across his eyes, a nervous smile expanding on his face as his heart accelerated, fear settling in his chest.

"Yes, I love you." He revealed, knowing that was no coming back, looking at her closely, observing her reaction closely.

His heart warmed at the sight of his girl's eyes shining with tears as her mouth opened slightly in surprise, Y/N's right hand going to her own chest in disbelief.

"Oh Paul, I love you so much." She reciprocated, a tear escaping her eyes as she walked closer to her boyfriend, laying her head against his warm chest, her arms wrapping around his waist.

Paul sighed in relief, his eyes also filling with tears as he pulled Y/N closer, hugging her tightly.

"I've loved you since before I understood what that kind of love meant. The first time I saw you, I gave myself completely. When we kissed for the first time after you accepted me as yours, I became an addict and I knew that no one else could make me feel such an electric spark. Y/N, the moment I looked into your eyes for the first time, I knew I would follow you to the end of the world if necessary. And I don't say that because you're my imprint, my love for you goes far beyond that." Paul declared, pulling away slightly so he could look into his girlfriend's eyes, a huge smile decorating his features.

"Paul, it's not fair of you to make me cry at a time like this." Y/N muttered, her voice cracking with emotions. Paul brought his large hands to her face, wiping away the tears that wetted her flushed face. "I love you so much, I promise I'll be yours for the rest of our lives." She whispered, her heart overflowing with love, passion, and affection.

The boy bent down slightly, sealing his lips on hers in a slow kiss, full of the best feelings. A sigh escaped Y/N in pleasure, surrendering to the kiss and Paul's arms.

The sound of the wolf's stomach begging for food interrupted them. Y/N let out a laugh against Paul's lips, opening her eyes slowly and walking away, smiling big and turning to the stove again, going back to finishing breakfast for both of them.

Paul's arms remained around his girlfriend's body seeking contact and comfort, his heart warm, as their bodies moved slightly to the melody of the songs that sounded from the radio.

They felt like they could stay there forever, surrounded by the best feeling, love.

#x reader #paul lahote #paul lahote x reader #paul lahote x y/n #paul lahote x you #paul #twilight #imagine #oneshot #fanfic #fanfiction #love #wolf pack #uley pack #forks #la push #paul lahote imagine #paul lahote fanfic #paul lahote fic #paul lahote fanfiction #twilight x reader #werewolf #vampire

[skipper1331]

dancing in the snow // Esme Morgan

a/n: based off this request.

"Did anyone see you?" you asked as Esme joined you in the storage room of the Manchester City facility.

"No" she whispered into the dark.

Your arms looped around her neck as hers went around your waist, the spot were they always rested, "I’ve missed you"

In an instant, your lips pressed against hers. Even though, you were together all day long, training with the team, you couldn‘t be with her the way you wanted to.

It was hard not to look at each other for too long.

It was hard to keep your hands to yourselves.

It was hard not to blush at the slightest touches.

It was hard to act like friends.

Because you weren’t.

"I‘ve missed you too" you muttered, pecking her lips over and over. The sweet girl giggled, her thumbs drawing circles into your sides as she looked at you with heart eyes.

Esme was head over heels.

She loved the way you smiled.

She loved the way you laughed.

She loved the way you talked.

She loved that you were you, no matter what.

"Are you coming to mine later?" she asked shyly, cheeks turning into a deep shade of red.

"yes" you replied, smiling sincerely.

Esme and you haven’t been dating for long, everything somehow still new but at the same time not anymore. "I‘ll see you later then" she grinned, pressing one final kiss to your forehead before she slipped out of the room.

-

Your head was resting on Esme’s lap as she absentmindedly massaged your scalp, her main focus on your beautiful eyes. "You‘re so beautiful" she smiled, absolutely smitten. Your cheeks turned red as you covered your face, an upside down smile displayed on your face. "No, don‘t cover it" she grumbled, her hands grasping your wrists gently, "let me see that pretty face of yours"

As she pulled them down, you grinned at her, still blushy cheeks.

After admiring each other for another while, you broke the silence, "I’ve been thinking, maybe we could go to the christmas market?" you asked with puppy dog eyes. Esme could never resist those eyes or say no to you in general, not that she would have either.

Not even 10 minutes later, the two of you left her flat, both of you dressed in winter wear. Her hand firmly held yours as you walked to the city centre. Christmas music was heard from miles away, the colourful lights seen from afar. "It‘s awesome" you stated, admiring the scenery in front of you. "Yeah, you are" Esme sheepishly replied, her eyes only on you. She loved the way your smile reached the corner of your eyes. "Cheeky girl" you giggled, looping your arms around her neck as you laid your head on her chest. Instantly, her arms went around your waist as she pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

Slowly but surely, you started to sway along the faded music, wrapped in your own little bubble.

It was nothing but the sweetness of your relationship..

As a new song started playing, you pulled your head back, still close in her embrace as you inhaled the feeling, the feeling of christmas, the feeling of love.

..dancing in the falling snow.

"I love you" Esme blurted out as the song ended while she placed the loose strand of hair behind your ear. Her touch was gentle and careful - like always.

Your breath hitched. Those three words, the words you have been waiting to hear desperately.

She looked at you with wide eyes, just realizing what she said yet not regretting it.

Esme was in love with you.

Esme loved you.

And this was the perfect moment to tell you.

The widest grin displayed your features, "I love you too." - she matched your smile, heart beating in her chest.

Then you kissed her, standing on tip toes, your hands cupping her cheeks as you softly pressed your lips against hers. The kiss didn‘t last long, both too occupied with smiling at each other - it was like in the movies.

-

"Es!" you yelled from the living room, jumping off the couch, marching towards the kitchen. Esme met you halfway, the panic in your voice clear. "What‘s wrong??" she asked, looking for any sign of injury. "Baby, talk to me" she pleaded as get anxious. You just looked at her, not able to form some words into a sentence. Your mind was blank. Somehow you managed to hold up your phone, only a black screen visible for Esme. "Is something with it? It‘s not broken."

you shook your head. no.

"open it" you whispered, almost inaudible.

She did.

And then she saw it or rather them.

Multiple pictures of the two of you dancing and kissing in the snow. How could you be so careless? "Esme- I’m sorry" you cried, shoulders sagging as your head hung low. "Baby, why are you apologizing?" the defenders hands cupped your cheeks, thumbs wiping away the spilt tears. "That‘s not what you wanted" you sniffed, glossy eyes looking at the beauty herself.

"What are you talking about?"

"Us, public"

"Oh my love" her arms wrapped around your smaller figure, "I don’t mind. I just wanted you to be comfortable with every next step we take" she explained.

-

"Are you excited to see the girls?" Esme asked sweetly as you stared out of the window, St. George’s Park near. "you know I am" you smiled, interviewing your fingers.

It was silent for a few minutes.

"What, um, what about us?" you asked not louder than a whisper, "Do you think they know? What will we do?"

She looked at you, eyes scanning your features, "those pictures made headlines, I think they know and it won‘t change a thing" she replied, her free hand reaching up to cup your cheek, "we‘ll be professionals and girlfriends."

"Okay"

"Maybe there will be some teasing or maybe some explaining to do but that doesn‘t change anything between us" she looked at you with so much adoration, her eyes shining with nothing but love for you. Your cheeks turned red, burning under her touch while her words effected you happily, "I love you" you said shyly, her intense gaze making your knees weak.

"I love you too"

-

Arriving at St. George’s Park and settling down in your rooms felt great. You were excited to be there and for the upcoming nations league matches. You shared your room with Lotte like you always did while Esme was rooming with Hempo. Lotte greeted you with a bear hug as you entered the room - the two of you close friends since the u-teams.

"Young Lady! You‘ve got some explaining to do" she pointed her finger at you strictly, crossing her arms yet letting you go further into the room.

Meanwhile a similar conversation started in Esme’s room.

Esme was unpacking her suitcase as she felt eyes burning into the back of her head. "Do you want to say something?" she laughed, turning around to see the blonde city player glaring at her.

"pretty little girlfriend huh?" she only said, the defender blushing shyly.

"When did it happen?" Lotte asked you.

"A few months ago"

"You do realize I want more information?!"

"I asked her out after the derby" Esme muttered, nervously scratching her arm, "it left my lips before I could even think about it" subconsciously she started to smile, "she said yes" Hempo smiled as she heard the defender ramble on about your first date. She always knew Esme had a crush on you and it made her proud to know that the sweet girl found the courage to ask you.

"Does she treat you right?" Lotte asked as you finally gave her more information. It didn’t take her long to crack your facade - it was Esme who you were talking about, the mention of her name made you tell her everything already. "I won‘t hesitate to hurt her if not" the brunette stated firmly. "She does" you answered, "she treats me like a princess."

"You really lover her, don‘t you?"

Wide eyes looked at the City forward, was it that obvious?

"I do" a big smile made its way on her face, "she makes me very happy and my heart goes crazy every time she smiles or laughs or- by anything she does" she admitted, eyes so full of love as she talked about you. She was so incredibly in love with you.

-

The rest of the evening continued like that, both of you secretly enjoyed talking about your relationship. Neither of you was ashamed or feared to admit the love you held for one another.

Yes, your relationship was still somehow new - not even a year together but that didn‘t change anything.

Esme loved you.

You loved Esme.

So while you might just were a couple since a few months, many happy years were about to come.

-

The next morning, Esme waited patiently for you in front of your room. She smiled as you stepped out of it, "Hey"

Standing on your tip toes, you leaned up to kiss her good morning, both of you smiling at the simple touch of your lips. "Good morning, Lotte" she greeted your roommate who had also stepped out of the room.

"Morning" sleepy Lotte replied who started walking ahead to get her needed coffee. The two of you followed her, talking about anything and everything.

As you arrived at breakfast, the room fell silent, all eyes on you. What was going on?

"Lovebirds!"

esme.morgan

lucybronze and 23.371 others

esme.morgan ❄️

———————

#esme morgan #esme morgan x reader #woso fanfics #woso x reader #woso #lionesses #engwnt #engwnt x reader #lionesses x reader #manchester city x reader #man city women #man city x reader #manchester city women #manchester city

[jo-harrington]

Sunsets.

They were always better when you watched them with someone else.

You glanced down at the hands in your lap: yours and Sam's, twined together like your lives have been for the past 5 years. The best of friends from the moment her family moved into town. You couldn't remember a time when you existed without her.

She's chatting now, telling some story about her boyfriend's dunce behavior to cheer you up after Mark broke your heart. Douchebag. You don't really know how you got here of all places; how things seemed to go so right with him and then so terribly wrong.

Sam made a joke at both Patrick and Mark's expense. You laughed and the sound of it was unfamiliar and almost roared in your ear, like a hundred people were laughing.

Everyone always laughed at Sam's jokes. Everyone loved Sam. Everything always worked out for her, even in the most unlikely situations. She was just lucky like that.

You told her once, after she won the talent show at school, that it almost seemed like she was the star of The Samantha Show or something. She found it hilarious, apparently, but you had an inkling that her feelings were still hurt. This was real life, not TV. She didn't just win because she was some main character, she worked really hard on her dance routine.

You felt a little bad after that, never brought it up again. The dark little voice deep down inside you smothered for now.

Because yeah, she did work hard. You knew that. She was smart and talented and funny and caring and a great friend and neighbor and that's just how it was because...

Because...

Because she strived to be all of those thing.

Things you…really didn’t bother with.

Because you were…

You.

Average, squeaking by a three-point-something GPA, wannabe artist who could barely draw, never left town before even when there was that field trip to DC because you got the mumps. A little nervous, a little clumsy, a little romantic with your head in the clouds. You always had a crush but nothing ever really came of those crushes until Mark.

The only boy to ever like you back and then he broke your heart.

“I just want to disappear,” you muttered pathetically and let go of Sam’s hand to cover your eyes again.

"So do it!" Sam finally hopped to her feet in the way that only she could, raring for another passioned, motivational speech that she was known for. You really needed one of those and also loathed that she was about to give you one. "Disappear! Leave!”

This was not the speech you expected.

"Uh, what?" you let out a mixture of a scoff and a laugh, tears forgotten for now. "What do you mean leave? Hello, graduation in a few months. Prom? Then college. What happened to your big plan last week? One last summer in Port Geneva?"

"Forget one last summer," she waved her arms wildly. "This is your life! You're my best friend, I want you happy. Tell me the truth. Do you really even want to go to college? Wouldn't you rather pack up big blue and go on that adventure like you talked about in 8th grade?"

At your blank stare, Sam grabbed you by the shoulders and shook you.

"That's the whole reason we're friends in the first place don't you remember? The ice breaker?! Are you kidding?"

"I don't have a clue," you giggled as she jostled you around.

"Our entire friendship built on a lie. UGH. Ok. Mrs. Mills what-do-you-wanna-do-in-10-years activity? And everyone's was stupid. Tina wanted to be on the cover of Tiger Beat for the Girl Superstar issue. Patrick...gotta love him...but he wanted to be the starting quarterback for the Miami Dolphins. Mine was so dumb I don't even want to say it, great first impressions I made as the new kid.

"But you wanted to see the world! Pack your bags and board a train around the US. Paint the sunset at the Grand Canyon. See glaciers in Alaska! Hell, you even said you'd travel to Middle Earth if you could. And I thought you meant the equator!"

You both laughed and as she went on and on about things you apparently said 4 years ago and as the memory came back to you, your heart ached.

Yeah, you did say that stuff didn't you? You’d been such a silly, idealistic kid before you grew up and reality hit you time and time again.

"That was just kids stuff Sammie," you laughed dismissively. "I'm...I'm gonna take classes at State, and I'm gonna work at the furniture store and I'm gonna..."

"You're gonna pine over Mark Greckman over the rest of your life?" The hands were on her hips again. "No, ma'am, you...you're gonna go on your adventure and...oh my...you're gonna find a prince of some European kingdom or...or a handsome stranger in an Italian villa. Or both. Hoards of men fighting for your affection."

"Please stop," you stood up and grabbed her as she started waving her arms around and pantomiming kissing a tall stranger. "Stop it."

"Ok I'm done, I'm done," she promised. "I just don't want you to be crying over that idiot anymore. And we might be close to graduation but...I don't know...you can still change your mind."

"Hmm," you shrugged. "I dunno. If just sounds so…”

“Unlike you?”

“Yeah.”

"Just think about it," she urged you. "You and your Volkswagen Beetle…and the world...the whole universe if you want it! The possibilities are endless. I just feel like...1985...it's gonna be your year."

There was a spark of inspiration that grew inside of you, and in your heart, you knew she was right.

You pulled her into your arms, grateful to have your best friend.

"Port Geneva was filmed in front of a live studio audience."

Eddie hit the rewind button on the remote and watched the scene speed in reverse until it hit Sam’s big speech. He hit play and watched for a minute then paused, the blurry image of your giggling face frozen on his screen for the foreseeable future.

He sighed and leaned back on the couch to enjoy your company for a minute.

The living room was dark, only illuminated by the glow of the TV and the street lights outside shining through the windows. There was a stack of tapes on the coffee table, along with his abandoned homework. The pizza he ordered would be here soon but for now…it was just you and him.

“M’sorry Mark was an asshole,” he said aloud into the still room. “To be honest…I kind of warned you about him way back.”

You don’t say anything. You never do.

“I know, the heart wants what it wants.” He picked a piece of lint off of his jeans. “I just want to look out for you honey.”

You stay smiling on the screen, and he can imagine it got the slightest bit bigger when he said that.

“I know you try to look after me too. Guess that doesn’t stop either of us getting hurt right?” He chuckled and pat his hands on his lap.

This was pathetic, talking to a fictional character like they were really in the room with him.

You were just…you were everything. And you’d been there for him, a balm to his woes. You had been since he started watching Port Geneva way back when, but especially since everything went down last year.

With his dad and the house and…

There was a knock at the door and Eddie hit the eject button so he could put in the next tape in watch with dinner. It was gonna be a good episode, you tell Mark off and even punch him; he remembered it fondly.

Defending yourself. He was proud of his girl.

Eddie ate his dinner and watched his episodes, taped from when they originally aired. Wednesday nights at 9pm, right before the news. He did his homework and occasionally repeated the rewind-pause-play act that he had perfected over the years so he could make another joke or, just once, complain about his chemistry homework.

Life was hard. For everyone. But especially if your name was Eddie Munson. Still, he endured. He’d never been a stranger to fantasy and escapism, he had his books and his game and his movies but there was something so…comforting in the realism that was your show.

A small suburban town full of normals. All sorts of mundane activities that mostly everyone made feel were…life altering events. And a handful of misunderstood outcasts—like you and Scott and Bonnie—who played supporting characters to the stars. Stars that were, quite frankly, unrealistic and annoying.

Eddie felt that way sometimes though, like he was just some background character waiting for his chance at the spotlight. Who had been the main character in his story, huh? Ronnie? Yeah…he could see that, now that she was on her great college adventure.

But with her gone, what would come of his storyline? Did he just fade into the background again?

Eddie ejected the tape before the current episode finished and propped his feet on the coffee table as he flipped the channels to something else. He needed to focus on something else. He would come back to his tapes, to you, another night and he would wish that you were real once again. Knocking on his door, taking him on a grand adventure with you.

But for now he just needed to stew in his…sad secondary character thoughts.

You got your time in the spotlight, a 2-episode arc at the end of the season, and as much as he hoped that it would be his turn soon…to be the character everyone loved…the person everyone loved…he knew it might never happen for him.

Eddie the Freak. Eddie the outcast. Eddie the idiot.

He would even take a single scene dedicated to him at this point.

Was that too much to ask?

Coming in 2024.

Find the Masterlist here. And the original blurb here.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #Eddie Munson angst #stranger than (fan)fiction #eddie munson #Stranger things fic

[imtryingbuck]

Birthday Non-Celebration

~ gif not mine credit to owner ~

Summary: reader doesn’t celebrate her birthday and Steve and the team makes it special for her

Word count: 1146

Warnings: swearing, mention of adoption - is that a warning? It is now. Steve being the cutest.

A/N: So it was my birthday yesterday and ngl it was pretty crappy so I wrote this to cheer my self up. I truly apologise in advance that it is rushed and shit. But have fun reading anyways🤍

Masterlist

Growing up, birthdays were Y/N's favourite day, especially if it was hers. The presents, the balloons, and the attention that was aimed at her somewhere down the line, she grew to dislike them.

Though she disliked hers, she loved celebrating others. Stressing herself out about presents—worrying if she had gotten enough for the person—worrying over whether the birthday person was going to like said presents.

Even with the stress and her bank account nearing empty, she loved seeing her friends reactions to her very poorly wrapped presents, and seeing their reactions to the presents made her happy.

~~~

Every year, without fail, she managed to get out of giving her birth date. The team would ask, but she would just tell them that it had already been and gone. And every year without fail, she would feel a tinge of sadness when they looked disappointed—not with her but with themselves, and that’s why it made her sad.

Y/N was working tirelessly to get the perfect present for Steve. She told herself that the presents needed to be absolutely perfect for him, as this was the first birthday of his they were celebrating as a couple.

“I-I doll this." Steve's eyes hadn’t moved away from the main gift she had gotten him.

“Do you like it? I can take it bac-" The nerves had gotten the better of her so much that she was rushing her words before he cut her off.

“No. No way are you taking this back! I’ll fight you if you try to take it away from me! Baby, I love it." Jumping in front of the gift to protect it from being taken away, Steve couldn’t believe that she even thought he wouldn’t like it, and hearing how upset she sounded broke his heart.

The gift was a drawing table with a side station, draws, shelves, and stationary holders. She had even brought him more papers, pencils, paint, and a few new brushes. He couldn’t believe his eyes when she gave him the okay to finally look; he honestly wasn’t expecting it but loved it as soon as his eyes laid on it.

“It’s even got a chair—look." Her tone was much happier now that she knew he loved it.

“I love you, Y/N. Thank you so much for this.”

~~~

Steve made it his personal mission to find out his girl's birthday; in the 5 years he’s known her, he hasn’t had the opportunity to spoil her. They’ve been dating now for 2 years, and yet he still hasn’t been able to make her day special the same way she’s made his.

“I’ve got it”. Nat breezed up to him when he was standing in the kitchen.

“How?”

“I can’t give my secrets away, Stevo”.

“Don’t call me that”. She had to shout as she all but ran out of the room.

Finally seeing the date of his girlfriend's birthday, he smiled. I smiled at the sight of the date, as it was only 2 weeks away.

~~~

Like a creep, he pulled all the members of the team—minus Y/N—into a storage room.

"Umm, Stevie, why are we all in this tiny ass room?"

“Give me a second, Buck.”

“It is a tad cramped. I’m practically holding a tin man’s hand.” Sam spoke up next to Bucky.

“There’s nothing practically about it. You are”.

“You two just need to kiss for everyone’s sake,” Wanda snickered.

Before Bucky could even get his snarky comment out, which was no doubt on the tip of his tongue, Steve interrupted, “Shut up, a lot of you. Now, Nat managed to get Y/N's date of birth, and it’s in 2 weeks. So we have 2 weeks to get this perfect!”

30 minutes later, they all had their parts in making her birthday special. Despite the plans being in motion, Steve was still wondering why she didn’t celebrate them. So off he went to find her.

Finding her in their shared bedroom, reading the book that had her hooked for the past few days, he leans against the doorway, admiring her until-

“Jesus Christ, Steve! I nearly had a heart attack!"

“I'm sorry, baby," he said, chuckling as he moved closer towards her. "Sooo, what are you doing?”

“Doing cartwheels, obviously.”

“If being an Avenger doesn’t work out for you, you should go into comedy.”

“Would you still love me?”

“Of course, my love”. Leaning over to place his lips gently on hers, he shares a short kiss. “I was wondering something about you.”

"Oh, do tell.”

“Why don’t you celebrate your birthday?”

Watching her shrink into herself, he felt bad for asking, “I just don't.”

“But why, baby? There’s got to be a reason.”

“I don’t know, really. Okay well I do so you can’t put that eyebrow down, mister. It’s a stupid reason, really. My parents put me up for adoption on my 10th birthday, and the home I went to didn’t care for birthdays. I would wish myself a happy birthday for a few years, but then just gave up” Moving further up the bed “My birthday became meaningless, so therefore I don’t celebrate it”.

"Ba-baby, I had no idea. I’m so sorry”.

“No need to apologise, babe. Honestly, it’s fine”.

“Why did you never tell me?”

“Because it doesn’t matter, Stevie. It’s been a long time since I was at that home, so” She shrugged it off.

Shortly after, Y/N fell asleep, with Steve combing his fingers through her soft hair.

~~~

It was the day of her birthday, and she was completely oblivious to what was occurring around her. Walking into the common room, she stopped dead in her tracks.

Eyes were bouncing all around the room at the sight in front of her. Close to a hundred balloons floating around, ‘happy birthday’ banners hanging up neatly, a whole range of different-coloured flowers all around the room, and presents? Presents piled up high on the tables. Her boyfriend and friends were standing there with huge smiles on their beautiful faces.

“W-w… What is all this?”

“It’s your birthday, baby," Steve says, moving closer to her. “For the past 5 years, you have made our birthdays special, making each and every one of us feel loved," he said, taking her hands into his warm ones, “and we’re now finally able to celebrate the day you came into this world.”

Gently pulling her further into the room, “There’s one present for every year you didn’t get one, and these ones,” pointing over to a different pile, “are for your birthday today.”

The tears poured out of her eyes. Unable to speak, she gripped on to Steve and pulled him into a bone-crushing hug. After releasing him, she moved onto the others.

“Thank you guys; you honestly didn’t need to do this, but I’m very grateful. Thank you so much.”

“You don’t have to thank us, sweetheart; now open these presents!"

~ banner credit goes to @sweetpeapod ~

#marvel #steve rogers #marvel fanfiction #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fic #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x gf reader #marvel fic #steve rogers and you #avengers fluff #steve rogers and reader #the avengers #steve rogers x y/n #avengers x reader #avengers x fem!reader #avengers x y/n #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x f!reader #steve rogers x female reader

[seeingivy]

Hi!! Can you do an angsty song fic for “hits different” with Gojo? Love the ts series !!❤️

hits different

satoru gojo x f!reader

**part of my satoru as taylor swift songs series

content: older brothers best friend!satoru, teenagers being dumb teenagers, drinking, satoru calls reader belle, reader spends a fuck ton of money on toji's credit card

an: HELLO SWEETIE PIE!!! THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR DA LOVE IM GLAD YOU'VE BEEN ENJOYING IT SO FAR. this ended up at a 9k so I hope you enjoy pookie

--

present day 

“Are you even listening to anything I’m saying?” he asks, his hands folded across his menu. 

You close your own menu, setting it neatly on top of the plates, as you look over at him - the look in his eyes downright murderous. Granted, sticking your nose in the menu while he was trying to talk to you for the past twenty minutes couldn’t have helped, but he should cut you some slack. You’re really hungry.   

It’s then and there that you see the look, that twitch in his right eye, and know exactly what’s going to happen. Toji Fushiguro, the accountant you’ve been dating for the last six months, is about to break up with you. 

“It’s like you aren’t even paying attention when I talk to you, when I’m trying to sit here and tell you how I’m feeling.” 

“Okay. So tell me how you’re feeling, Toji.” 

He flares his nostrils, exasperated by your response. You thought it was polite. But you’ve been told your tone is downright argumentative, like grating nails on a chalkboard. 

And then Toji lays out his final card, waiting for your broken expression. 

“I’m breaking up with you. You-you and me. We’re done.” 

No broken expression comes. Because you don’t let idiots like Toji think they have power over you, your feelings for even a second. 

“Okay. Well, I still came here to eat dinner so could you pass me the main menu?” 

You give him your best smile, sickly sweet, and it pushes him over the edge. 

“Are you fucking serious? You’re not going to say anything to that? Anything at all? I just broke up with your pathetic ass and you don’t even feel a bit sad about it?” 

You set the menu down again, crossing your wrists against your chest. 

“Do you want me to, Toji? Because I can if you want me to.” 

He gets even more frustrated, standing up at the table to yell his final words before he storms out. 

“Do you know what your problem is, Y/N?” 

“Please enlighten me. I’m dying to know.” 

“You-you’re shit to be around. Literally the most frustrating, agitating, irritating person I’ve ever met. You can’t ever take anything at face value - you just argue and argue because it’s the only thing you know how to do. True love could knock on your door and you’d send it running away with that cold, dark heart in your chest. Because you’re hard to love.” 

You clench your fists under the table, drawing blood against your palms. 

“I’m so sorry I wasn’t as agreeable as you wanted me to be. Surely the secretary you’ve been fucking for the last three months we were dating is a sweeter taste in your mouth than I am.” 

“Wait, what-” 

“If you’re going to fuck another girl while you’re dating me, make sure you don’t butt dial me while you’re doing it, sweetheart.” 

He furrows his brow, ears pink from what you’re sure is embarrassment as he storms off. You turn your head over your neck, lifting your hand to signal Nobara, Megumi, and Itadori to join you at the table. 

They all awkwardly take the empty seats at the table, Itadori immediately reaching for the free bread on the table and Megumi reaching for the bottle of wine. 

“You okay?” Megumi asks, a comforting hand on your shoulder. 

“Toji has this really, really shit habit of leaving his stuff everywhere. His sunglasses, his keys, his wallet.” 

You hold the wallet in the air, Nobara immediately snatching it from your hands and pulling out his credit card. 

“No way.” she says, immediately running through the menu to find the most expensive thing to eat. 

“He’ll cancel it tomorrow. So, we should make the most of it tonight.” you say, the three of them smiling back at you. 

“You know, I’d feel half bad about this but he cheated on you for three months, so I really, really don’t.” Megumi says, ordering another bottle of wine. 

Itadori puts his hand on yours, squeezing once as he asks. 

“Are you sad about it?” 

“Not really.” 

“Oh, come on. She’s heartless. Ever since that idiot she dated from her hometown took her heart and went running with it, she’s been cold ever since.” Kugisaki says, spreading the leftover butter on the bread she just stole from Itadori. 

“Exactly.” you say, smiling at the three of them. 

You tilt the rest of your wine into the back of your throat, the sensation burning as you push it down. 

You hate that after all these years, even the mention of him makes your head spin. 

Satoru. 

--

two years ago 

“Go fuck yourself, Y/N.” 

“Real clever, Getou. You really got me there.” 

Getou immediately knocks you off your chair and starts wrestling with you on the ground - the two of you yanking each other’s arms and pulling each other's legs. 

“Cut your hair, Getou. You look like a hillbilly with that uglyass manbun.” 

“Check your attitude, Y/N. You’re getting bitchier as time goes on.” 

You immediately reach up and grab a fistful of his hair, yanking hard as he elbows you in the eye. And you’re about to punch him straight in the stomach before you feel two arms around your waist, the hold firm, as you fight off the hold. 

“That’s enough from you two, alright?” Satoru says, his voice in your ear sending a shiver down your spine. 

“It’s not enough, Satoru. I need to give him a piece of my mind.” 

“You’re going to give him a piece of your mind with your fist, princess?” 

He finally lets you go, Shoko mimicking his actions as she lets Getou go on the other side of the kitchen. You’re both glaring bloody murder at each other, the stupid look on his ugly face only enraging you more. 

“Quit calling me princess, it’s stupid.” you murmur, lifting your hands up to fix the mess Getou made of your hair. 

“Cmon, Belle. Don’t be like that.” 

You cringe at the nickname, even worse than princess, as the memory comes straight to your mind. Third grade. Halloween Eve. 

You were going to be Cinderella for Halloween - all set with fake glass slippers and a sparkly blue dress and butterfly hair clips. But Getou and Satoru had come home straight from their soccer practice, all muddy and disgusting, and accidentally sat on your costume. 

The pretty blue dress you had saved all your allowance on was ruined and along with it, your hopes of impressing Haibara - the guy that you had a crush on at the time. 

Except Satoru, in his infinite kindness that he’s always shared with you, dragged you to the costume store the day after, his hands wrapped around your waist as he biked the two of you there in the scorching midday October heat. 

“Do you guys have any Cinderella dresses left?” 

“They’re all sold out. We’re so sorry, sir.” 

As the clerk walks away, Satoru turns over to you, a giddy smile on his face. 

“Did you hear that? That lady just called me sir.” 

“Really funny, Satoru.” 

You push him into the stand by the cashier, as you stomp to the other side of the store. You look up at the little catalogs, the sparkly blue dress in the picture with a red “sold out” sign stamped on top of it. He catches up, his hand soft on your shoulder, as he talks. 

“Sorry we messed up your dress, Y/N.” 

You can feel the tears building in your eyes as you start aggressively swiping them away, trying to hide the fact that you were crying in front of Satoru. Knowing him, he was just going to run home and tell Getou so the two of them could laugh at you. 

“No, you’re not. You probably did it on purpose.” 

“We didn’t, I-I swear.” 

“Getou literally told me yesterday that he thought it was stupid I wanted to be a princess for Halloween. That girls like me aren’t princesses, because they have a rotten attitude. He said I should dress up as the Scream instead.” 

You look over at the ghost mask - all elongated and scary - and it only sends more tears running down your face. 

“Hey. You can still be a princess if you want to be.” he says. 

“No, I can’t. Because you guys ruined the costume I already did buy. And I don’t have the money for another one because I-I spent my entire allowance on that costume.” 

Satoru pulls out his wallet and brings his hand down to yours, placing the crisp dollar bills in your hand. You look over at him and he’s smiling - the tips of his ears pink. 

“Now you have money for the costume.” 

“There’s still no costume, dumbass.” 

Satoru drags you down the aisle and points at the sparkly yellow dress, his hand now slung around your shoulder again. 

“They still have this one.” 

“Belle? You want me to be Belle?” 

“You’re more of a Belle than Cinderella. Getou’s right in the sense that you’re a little bit too harsh to be a Cinderella type.” 

“Geez. Thanks Satoru.” 

“But you’re smart, ambitious, headstrong enough to be a Belle. Cinderella’s the type of bitch to always back down from a fight. Belle on the other hand fights for what she wants, like you.” 

You look over at him and smile, your heart pounding in your chest as the two of you biking back to the house with the sparkly yellow dress in the bag in between you guys. 

“Just don’t fight to date a literal animal like Belle, okay? That’s bestiality.” 

“Shut up, Satoru.” 

You feel a hand on your head, shaking hard, and grounding you back in the moment. And at your irritation at Getou, who's still hurling insults at you from the other side of the room. 

“She started it, Shoko.” he says. 

“No, I didn’t. You’re the dumbass who-” you start. 

“I’m so fucking sick of you, Y/N. You’re always fucking nagging me in some way or another. You know, I heard you crying the other day about how you’re the only girl in your class who's never had a guy like you. Maybe if you took a look in the fucking mirror you’d realize why. You’re insufferable to be around.” 

You can feel the tears welling in your eyes - hot and angry - as you bolt straight out the door and down the street. You can faintly hear the three of them calling for you, but you reach straight for the bike on the curb and go as far as you can. 

You make your way five blocks down from your house to eventually stop at the lake, resting the bike against the dock before you walk down. You take your shoes off and dip your feet in, watching the sun fall behind the water and the sky turn brilliant, beautiful shades of pink, orange, and yellow. 

And when dark blue starts creeping in, you lay back against the dock and watch the stars trickle into the night sky, hundreds of tiny sparkling lights. Except your view of the sky is then obscured by Satoru’s face, upside down from your vantage point. 

“Hi Belle.” 

“Screw off.” 

He sits down, taking his own shoes off and dipping his feet into the water to lie down next to you. 

“Did you have to take my bike when you ran off? Yours was two feet away from it.” 

“Closest one. Cry about it, Satoru.” 

You both sit in silence, save for the sound of your feet splashing in the water as Satoru breaches the topic. 

“Never had a guy like you, huh?” 

“You’re such a fucking asshole, you know that? First, you watch Getou literally rip me a new one for no reason and now you’re here to rub it in my face?” 

“You know that wasn’t what I was doing. Have I ever made fun of you like that?” 

You sit up, running your hands through your hair, as you look down at the water, your leg sending ripples far beyond. You swallow hard, the tears rising to your eyes again. 

“No, Satoru. I haven’t had a guy like me like that. I’m the only girl going into senior year who hasn’t been kissed by a guy.” you whisper, the confession making you turn red with embarrassment. 

Satoru sits up, scooting closer to you so your knees are knocking each other, as you both look down at the water. 

“So why’s that a big deal, Y/N? You’ve never cared about what people think, let alone men. I mean, you’re basically a misandrist at this point.” 

You smile, looking over at his blue eyes, almost indiscernible in the dark of the night. 

“It’s a big deal because I want someone to like me. I-I know that you all think I’m mean and I argue all the time and-and whatever, maybe it’s true. But, I want someone to like me. You know, butterflies, first kisses, someone who saves all their secret jokes for you.” 

He puts his hand flat against your forehead, like he’s checking your temperature. 

“You feeling okay? Who are you and what have you done with, Y/N?” 

You shake his hand off, rolling your eyes at him, as you both laugh into the night. 

“You’re so mean, Satoru. I hate you.”

He lifts one of his legs out of the water and turns to his side, so that he’s facing you. You mimic his motions, the look on your face bored as you look over at him. 

“I’m going to tell you something, and it’s going to wound my ego a little bit, so don’t tell anyone okay?” 

“You with a wounded ego? I would live for the day.” 

He lightly nudges you before turning back down to the water, swishing the water with his legs. 

“What you said isn’t true, Belle.” 

“What part?” 

“About going into highschool and not having a guy like you.” 

“That guy who chased me around in first grade doesn’t count because he literally thought I was-” 

He brings his hands down on your face, squishing your cheeks so hard that you can’t get another word out. His eyes are closed, his face only a few feet from yours. 

“Princess, I really, really love it when you argue with me like that but can you please just let me finish?” he whispers, the words sending a shiver down your spine. 

You nod as he lets go, giving you a satisfied smile. He turns his head back to the water, leaning over the dock.

“That guy in first grade did like you. And I like you too.”  

He looks over and smiles and it makes your blood burn. You lift your hands to cover your pink face, the implication of the entire thing making your stomach burn with anxiety, embarrassment, and the gross, mushy gushy feelings you’ve had for Satoru for years. For the boy who always came to your defense when you’re fighting Getou, always came to your aid when you were crying, and the only, only person you’ve never argued with. 

“So quit crying about it, okay? My type has always been girls like you.” 

“Girls like me?” 

“Argumentative.” 

You nod as Satoru stands up, holding his hand out. And ignore the pounding in your chest when his skin touches yours. You both walk your bikes - you pushing his bike and him pushing yours back down the blocks as you cheese at each other in the dark, sharing a secret smile before Satoru ducks back into Getou’s room. 

--

three months later 

You push up on the counter, swirling the cup of lemonade in your hand as you watch everyone mill around the party. 

Your parents went out of town on a business trip. Getou throws the biggest party of the summer. And specifically tells you to stay in your room, because no one likes freshmen at a party. 

Yet here you are, drinking lemonade and watching everyone mill around the party. Getou’s trying too hard to hit on a girl way older than him and Shoko and Utahime are so blatantly flirting that its giving you physical pain to watch them pine the way they are any longer. 

But there’s one person you haven’t seen. Satoru. 

He should have been back from his family trip to Tokyo for the summer since school was starting next week and there’s no way that he would miss anything that Getou and Shoko planned. 

Even the thought of him makes your heart race, his swift admission of his feelings for you that were all but unrequited right before he left. You feel a tap on your shoulder, throwing you out of your thoughts.

“Hey. Can you hand me a cup?” 

You halfheartedly smile as you reach over, handing her a cup from behind you. She gives you a smile as she swirls through the random potion Getou was serving - a dark purple color. You’re sure there’s an unfathomable amount of liquor mixed in and that it tastes disgusting. 

“You want some?” 

“I’m good. Getou poisoned that for all I know.” you mutter, which elicits a laugh from her. 

“Interesting guy. He’s cute, right?” 

You gag, the thought making the lemonade you just drank roll over in your stomach. 

“Disgusting. He’s my older brother.” 

She laughs, pushing up on the counter to sit with you and smiles. 

“My bad. He’s ugly, downright horrendous.” 

“Thank you.” 

You smile as you look over at her, her eyes scanning the mess of people in front of you two. 

“Oh shit. Wait, you’re Y/N, right? Satoru was talking about you.” 

And any good feeling you have is now replaced with a green, jealous monster. And that part of you - the one that argues, the one that feels bitter, anger so powerfully is fighting its way out. 

“Y-yeah. How do you know Satoru?” 

“I don’t. I just met him upstairs. I almost puked in your room but he stopped me, helped me to the bathroom, and held my hair for a while while I threw up.” 

“He’s a real nice guy, isn’t he?” you say, the sarcasm dripping from you voice. 

Of course the asshole shows up to your house and flirts with another girl in your bedroom. Typical. 

“Yeah. Cute too.” 

Just then, Satoru and Getou walked up to you - with complete opposite expressions on their faces. Satoru is shining like the sun, his cheeks tinted pink which you’re sure is from drinking. And Getou’s glaring at you like there’s no tomorrow, his forehead scrunched up in irritation. 

“Y/N.” 

“Getou.” 

“What are you drinking?” 

“Lemonade.” 

Getou snatches the cup from your hand and sets it down and by the look on his face, you know he’s about to start a fight with you. 

“Are you fucking dense? That’s not lemonade, dumbass.” 

“Do you think I was born yesterday, idiot? I took it from the unopened bottle in the fridge.” 

“You shouldn’t be here right now. You’re too young to be here.” 

“You’re one year older than me, Getou. And don’t throw a party in my house if you don’t want me here.” 

Satoru puts a hand on Getou’s shoulder, whispering something in his ear until he gives you one last glare and walks away. Satoru gives you a big smile but before he can talk, the girl from before cuts him off. 

“Do you want to dance now? I promise I got all my vomit out earlier so I won’t throw up this time.” 

She gives him a big smile, and you swear Satoru’s considering it by the way he pauses and looks at her, which is enough said for you. You push up off the counter, telling them you’ll be right back and run off to the lake again, this time stealing Getou’s bike from the curb. 

You’re pushing your legs so hard that they’re hurting, the tears biting cold against your skin from how fast you’re going in the middle of the night. And when you make it to the dock, you throw his bike against the grass and angrily kick your shoes off as you start taking your clothes off. 

Is it a good idea to go skinny dipping in the middle of the night, alone? No. But is every human person that would come to this park at the party? Yes. 

Which is the only reason you take the plunge and stare up at the moon, a tiny silver crescent in the sky. You hear a splash behind you after a few minutes and are met with Satoru, wet hair matted on his forehead. 

“Find your own lake, weirdo.” 

“You know. You shouldn’t skinny dip in public. People could see you.” 

You look over to his pile of clothes and shoes, neatly folded in the pile next to yours. 

“Same goes for you, pervert.” 

You roll your eyes at him as you cross your hands across your chest, turning to your back so you don’t have to look at him. He’s faster than you are, because suddenly he’s floating right in front of you, inches from your face. 

“Did I hurt your feelings, princess?”  

“Quit calling me that. It’s disgusting.” 

He brings his hands to your face, pushing away the tangled wet mess of hair on your shoulders. 

“You like it when I call you that.” 

“No, I don’t.” 

“Yes, you do, Belle.” 

“Satoru.” 

“I’m not saying my piece till you say yours. And you want to hear mine, so talk.” 

You take a deep breath as you look at his face - all calm and blank faced like he didn’t just do the biggest asshole move he could have. 

“You’re a dick, you know that? First of all, you tell me all this shit about how you like me right before you leave. And then when you come back, the first thing I see is you talking to another girl? You were holding her hair in the bathroom, fondling god knows what in my bedroom and now you want to come here and skinny dip with me? I am not some consolation prize you get to have because she was bored of those ugly pool noodle dance moves you have and don’t ever think for a second that I will be.” 

You finish, your chest heaving and a shiver running across your body from the cold water. And instead of a sincere, kind-hearted apology, an acknowledgement of what he did - Satoru Gojo is laughing in your face. 

You reach forward to smack his face and he stops your hand in the air, tangling his fingers with yours. 

“You’re so ridiculous, you know that?” 

“You’re so fucking r-” 

“Fondling? Pool noodle? Where do you even come up with this stuff?” 

He brings his hands up to your cheeks and leans your head forward, pressing the softest kiss to your forehead. You can feel your head short circuiting at the sensation, your arms tingling from how close he is. 

“You’re so, so ridiculous you know that? I’m never going to get tired of you.” he whispers, the words making your hair stand on their ends. 

“What-you can’t just say that and-” 

“Why do you think I was in your room?” 

“What?” 

“I was in your room, because I was looking for you. And I thought I was being nice by stopping that girl from puking all over your sheets - because I know you hate laundry and Getou isn’t going to do it for you - so I took her to the bathroom.” 

You can feel the embarrassment rushing to your face for misreading the situation entirely, taking the palms of your hands and rubbing them into your eye sockets. He laughs as he tangles his hands around your wrists, placing them around his own neck. 

“Still the only senior who hasn’t been kissed yet?” 

“Huh?” 

“I’ve been thinking about what you said. When I saw you last. Are you still the only senior who hasn’t been kissed yet?” 

“Oh. Oh, yeah. But I-” 

“Good.” 

He leans forward, tangling his hands around your waist as he presses his warm lips to yours, his hands squeezing you as he laughs into your mouth. You don’t have much to compare it to, but by the way he’s hanging off your lips, you can tell he’s eager. Way too eager - to be kissing you of all things. 

“Satoru.” 

“Hm?” 

“I like you too.” 

His face breaks out into a smile, so big that it makes you smile too. And when he cups his hand around your face again to kiss the tip of your nose, you can feel your insides screaming. For him. 

“No telling Getou. He’s going to kill me, okay?” 

“As if. He literally hates me, he’d be glad if-” 

“No. He can’t know. You-you’re his little sister. If he finds out I even looked at you this way, he-he’d end me where I stand. Trust me, Belle. If I break my promise, he'll never talk to me again.” 

“What promise?” 

“When we were little. He made me promise I wouldn’t like you.” 

“And yet here you are. Naked in a lake with me.” 

“You like to argue. I like to break rules. We all have our vices, princess.” 

You lean into his touch again, pressing your lips against his, as the moon shines a bright light on the two of you in the dark. 

--

four months later 

You and Getou awkwardly stand in the kitchen, by the open bottles of champagne, as you both secretly circle the glasses behind your back. Getou has his moments - and this is one of them. When your parents put you on display like shiny trophies for their coworkers, bragging about how smart the two of you are.

“You decided where you’re going yet?” 

“Tokyo or Kyoto, Toto.” 

“Toto. Ew. You haven’t called me that since we were little, idiot.” 

He brings his hand around your shoulder, tucking you into his arm as you lean against his shoulder, smiling. After Getou really realized you’d be leaving at the end of the year, he’s been nicer. Granted, he still fights like hell but he has his odd moments. Like this one. 

“You’ll always be Get-toto to me.” 

“I’ll get you a little Totoro plushie before you go, okay? So when those bastards you date fight with you, you’ll always be reminded you have a little bitch in you ready to fight.” 

“Why are you praying for my downfall? You’re not gonna manifest a sweet, warm love for me?” 

“Please. The guy you end up with will be all fireworks. Soft fireplace love has never been your thing.” 

He ruffles your hair as Satoru walks up, his tie loosened already. He gives you a smile and then shakes hands with Getou, the three of you leaning against the granite countertops, watching your parents mingle through the crowd. 

“D’you pick yet? Because Tokyo’s the right choice, Belle.” 

“I’m still thinking, Satoru.” 

“C’mon. Imagine it - you joining me and Getou in Tokyo. It would be really fun.” 

Satoru’s just trying to piss you off. He knows that you’ve already picked Tokyo, because it means you don’t have to long distance date anymore. No more driving up to see each other in between, getting pulled away from each other by the constraints of time or distance or really anything else. 

One of the smaller girls at the party tugs the end of your dress, whispering in her ear that she wants warm milk, which you happily oblige with. Satoru and Getou stay in their spots as you start rummaging through the kitchen, picking out a little glass and warming up the milk for her. 

“Honey?” 

“Yes, love?” Satoru responds, turning his gaze over to you. 

You feel your eyes widen and Satoru’s face turn red as he looks over at you, realizing you were asking the girl if she wanted honey in her milk and not calling him. You both look over to Getou, who has a very strange look on his face that you can’t really discern. 

Fuck. 

You hand the girl her milk and stand farthest away from Satoru, giving Getou a weak smile as you all stare at the party again. 

“Look. It’s Shayla.” 

You and Satoru crane your necks over the other side of the room, one of your neighbors daughters saying hello to all the guests. Which you’re sure you’re getting to get a lecture about now, since you didn’t want to spend the time saying hi to all of them. 

“Remember when you had a really big crush on her, Satoru? Since we were kids?” 

“Uh, yeah. But I was just really little, y’know.” 

You can feel your throat drying as Getou pushes on, each word making your heart burn in your chest. 

“Yeah, but. She was basically your first love. Who forgets that? Who compares to that?” 

“I don’t know if I would say she was my first l-” 

“Then who is, Satoru? Because it’s not my sister, right?” he asks, his voice firm. 

Satoru said that he would tell Getou when you officially announced you were going to Tokyo. Because once you lived in the same city, nothing would stop you from being with him - not even his best friend. 

“No, no, why would it be her? She’s been annoying us since we were little, arguing with us and all that. You-you’re right. It is her. Shayla’s always been my type.” he says, his gaze lowering to the floor. 

You feel your heart sink, twist into a jumbled mess as Getou smiles and gestures for her to come over. There’s a fair amount of protests from Satoru as she walks over, which you know is him trying to save face. He deals his final blow the second she walks up, definitively and wholly breaking your heart into pieces. 

When Getou starts setting the two of them up. When Satoru actually takes her number down. When she presses a kiss to his cheek and winks before she walks away. 

“I have to pee, Toto. Cover for me?” 

“Yeah, got it.” 

And the second you walk away and Getou watches you wipe the tears from your face as you walk past, Getou knows he’s right. 

“Getou. You have to-” 

“No, Satoru. Are you fucking kidding me?” 

“Wait, what- you can’t just-” 

“She’s my little sister. She’s not some toy you get to play around with till you figure out how you feel. And you don’t get to embarrass her by hiding her away either.” 

“We were going to tell you when she told you she’s going to Tokyo. You-you’re the reason I hid her away. I’ve liked her for years and I put that away because you didn’t want me with her. And now I-” 

“Don’t blame your shortcomings on me. Even if you did have to hide it in front of me, I would never call the girl I loved annoying to her face and throw everything she’s hated about herself in her face to make a point.” 

“I didn’t- Getou you’re the one who made her hate that about herself and-” 

“You love her?” 

“Obviously. Why would I go to the trouble of hiding something when-” 

“Talk to her again and I will literally break your face. In what world do you treat someone you love like that?” 

As Satoru watches Getou walk away and thinks about how hard you’re crying upstairs, he realizes he’s in his worst nightmare. Losing his best friend and the girl he loved on the same day. 

You and Satoru make promises that day. 

He promises that he’ll wear his heart on his sleeve from this day forward. You promise that you’ll tuck your heart away where no one can ever touch it again. 

--

present day 

“You’re no fun, Y/N.” Itadori says, pushing the paper into your space. 

“And you suck at tic-tac-toe.” you respond, sliding it back. 

Nobara and Megumi laugh as the three of you sink back into your chairs in the back of the conference room, your marketing manager droning on about stocks, the future of the company, and god knows what as you try to drone him out and focus on winning your seventh round of tic-tac-toe with Itadori. Spoiler alert: it doesn’t take much. 

“And lastly, we’ve employed a new marketing manager to work with the sales team. The four of you back there can decide who he’s going to be working with for onboarding.” says Ijichi. 

You nod as the four of you turn to each other, matching smirks on your face. 

“Rock paper scissors?” Nobara asks. 

“Deal.” 

It’s not that you’d hate to work with the new marketing manager. But the past three marketing managers were driven out by the end of the month because of you guys.

Megumi was too harsh with the first girl, who left crying when he asked her if she got her marketing degree from a trash can. Nobara drove the second guy away when she found out he chewed too loudly while eating lunch, claiming that he wasn’t a good fit for the company. And Itadori drove the last girl away, because she fell in love with him and he didn’t return her feelings, which made her resign the next day. 

“You know, logically. It’s your turn.” Megumi says, holding his fist up to Itadori. 

“Nope. We honor the rock paper scissors tournament in this friendship. 

You mince your words four rounds later because you’re the pouty loser getting stuck with the stupid marketing manager. You slide back into your chair as you massage your temples, preparing yourself for the upcoming headache for the next month. 

Either a lover, an incompetent idiot, or a loud chewer. 

Nobara and Itadori sling their hands around your shoulders, pinching your cheeks, as Ijichi swings the door open and the marketing manager walks in. He readjusts his tie - loosely hanging from his neck - and when you lift your head to actually make eye contact with him, you immediately sit up in your chair, your skin burning. 

Because Satoru Gojo is no longer six thousand miles away in Tokyo - out of sight and out of mind. He’s three feet away from you - taller, older, and more attractive than the time you saw him last. 

Everyone files out of the conference room, leaving the two of you standing miles away from each other, with you refusing to meet his eye. He walks up and holds his hand out, a shy smile on his face. 

“Satoru Gojo.” 

You put your hand in his - the touch warm, soft, all the way you remembered it. 

“Y/N L/N.” you respond, mimicking his voice. 

“Y/N, huh? You look more like a Belle to me.” he responds, smirking as he walks out to your cubicle labeled right across. 

You stomp right out, following him into your cubicle, as he takes the seat across from yours and starts eating the candy in your jar. You roll your eyes as you smack his hand, the smile on his face so big it's pissing you off. 

“Just so you know, there’s a very notorious reputation for running out the idiot who takes your position. And trust me, I’ll have you out by the end of the week.” 

“Is that a challenge, princess?” 

“You can’t flirt with me. I’m technically your boss, Satoru.” 

“You like to argue. I like to break rules. We all have our vices, princess.” he says, sticking one of your caramel candies in your mouth before pushing off your desk and making his way down the other side of the office. 

Six hours later, you’re face planting into the table at dinner, the words echoing through your mind. Along with all the memories you buried deep, deep down and tried to forget. Of running off to the lake all summer, Satoru washing your hair softly in the showers after, of nestling up in his arms to call it a day. 

Of Satoru rubbing circles into your back every time you fought with someone, of you kissing him after every fight he had with his dad, of whispering I love you against each other's lips like it was a sacred oath. 

“You look horrible.” Megumi says, sharing a judgemental look with Itadori. 

“Shut up.” 

“It’s just one of those lame interns. Just do what Nobara did - say he smells bad.”  Itadori responds, the three of them laughing. 

You dig your forehead into your forearms, only lifting your head to drink more of Itadori’s beer, as the thoughts race through your head. 

In all honesty, the problem has always been easy to avoid. Two years ago, Satoru smashed your heart into tiny pieces. You decided that you wouldn’t go to Tokyo or Kyoto like you planned and picked up everything and moved to New York instead. 

You didn’t say goodbye. To him or to anyone. Your parents drove you to the airport and Getou gave one of those weird, repressed older brother hugs and then you turned on your heel and never went back. 

You have a nice job. Friends who love you. Your dating life is abysmal at most - a long stream of guys you’ve ghosted, fought, and broken up with. Unfazed, unperturbed - calm, cool, and collected. 

It doesn’t bother you. Because you stuck by your promise. That you’ll tuck your heart away where no one can touch it. But it only takes five minutes of interaction with him and you can feel the concrete walls around your heart turning into clay, softened by the sweetness he’s always possessed, the softness he’s always shared with you. 

You have to drive him out of here as fast as you can. 

--  

Seven weeks later and Satoru remains at the company, steadfast and true. 

It drives you crazy, having him around. So up in your space, his smell lingering in your cubicle even after he walks away. He makes stupid jokes that make you smile so hard that you’re fighting the tears in your eyes and flirts with no shame like it’s breathing air. 

All in all, he’s everything you loved about Satoru, in your head again. In an even more attractive body, because of course time is nice to the asshole and he’s fit in all the right places. 

You ignore him the best you can, until you can’t anymore. 

You make it down to the parking lot, your high heels in your hand as you unlock your car and start loading your stuff into the trunk. 

That’s when you see him, slumped against his car with the hood popped open, with a very, very confused look on his face. You clear your throat loudly, which catches his attention. 

“Oh. Heading out late, Y/N?” 

“Looks like it. You?” 

“Ah. I actually meant to leave early today but my car hasn’t been starting so.” 

You take one look at his pouty face and give in. You slam the trunk of your car shut and whisper the words out, so fast that you can’t even think to regret them. 

“Get in the car.” 

“Huh?” 

“Get in the car, Satoru. Unless you want to stay here for the rest of the weekend, then be my guest.” 

He gives you the brightest smile you’ve seen as he all but jogs over and settles into the front seat of your car, slumping down in the seat that’s pushed all the way up. You back up out of the parking garage as he plugs in the address for his apartment, a modest thirty minutes away from the office. 

“You know, you can move the chair back. I’m not going to bite your head off if you do.” 

He laughs and you see his shoulders deflate as he adjusts the seat, his long legs now spread in the open compartment underneath him. 

“What a shame. I’m into that type of thing, Y/N.” 

“Always the perverted one, weren’t you?” you respond, smiling over at him. 

Stop it, Y/N. Stop it. 

“Who the hell sits up here anyway? A toddler?” 

“Oh. It was just this guy I was talking to. He was really short but he always felt the need to monitor my driving so he pulled the seat all the way up to watch the lines.” you respond, turning left onto the street. 

“Ah. One of your many romantic escapades, so I’m told. I’ve heard you’ve become quite the player, Y/N.” he says, leaning against the glass. 

“Learned from the best, Satoru. Except this time, I don’t get overinvolved.” you respond. 

He laughs, leaning back in the chair as you both fall into a comfortable silence, the tension hanging in the air eating at your skin. It hangs in the air, like an embarrassing elephant in the room. 

Satoru’s the one who pokes it. 

“Then, you should get involved with me. Again.” 

You keep your promises to yourself. But Satoru keeps his too. An oath to wear his heart on his sleeve is translated into him fighting to get you back. 

You slam the breaks so hard that his forehead goes straight into the sun visor, a groan leaving his mouth. You apologize and immediately reach forward, cupping the side of his face and eyeing the angry red mark on his forehead. 

“Yikes. I’m sorry, Cyclops. That caught me off guard.” 

“Be careful, there. Almost thought you cared for a second.” he says, smirking. 

You park the car in front of his apartment and look out the window, the words making your head spin. 

“You know, I can tell you want to.” he says.

You turn around and frown, reaching forward to flick into the soft skin of his cheek. 

“Please. You’re not even all that-” 

“You brushed your hand against mine when we walked to the conference room. I caught you staring at me during the company lunch on Thursday. And I know you just stopped talking to the short guy because Itadori told me. What’s the worst that could happen?”  

--

The worst has happened. Because for the second time, you are irrevocably and deeply in love with Satoru Gojo. 

Maybe you never stopped. 

Just like you were when you were seven, you’re incredibly drawn to him, like two magnets being pulled together. What was supposed to be one date, one lousy hookup like every other guy you’ve talked to in the past year turned into a complicated, mushy gushy feelings mess. 

You stayed over at his house that night. But then he was shirtless, singing in the kitchen as he made you breakfast in bed the next morning. And little by little, he’s crawled into every little part of your life. 

He insists on driving you to work, buying you a sugary overpriced latte you would never splurge on for yourself and a pastry to go with it on the way. He claims he doesn’t want any but reaches over the seat to take a bite and then press a chocolatey kiss to your lips. 

He hangs out with you and your friends after work. And like always, he always backs you up in the thousands of petty arguments he has with each of them and then tells you that it turns him on when he drives you home. 

He draws little shapes into your skin every night, asking you to guess the little drawings he’s making while his soft, smooth voice lulls you to sleep. And when you wake up, you can’t help but watch him, the little freckles he had when he was seventeen still the same. 

It makes your heart warm. The soft feelings you’ve always had for him, they make you warm. 

Which is why you curse yourself for ever thinking things could be different, when he drops the ball three months later.  

“Can you drive me to the airport on Friday, princess?” he asks, his breaths tickling your nose. 

“Where are you going, Toru?” you murmur, burrowing yourself deeper into his skin. 

“Home. The job posting was temporary, remember?” he responds, pressing a kiss to the top of your forehead. 

“Oh. Are- you’re not going to look for a job here?’ 

“Nah. Time’s up right?” he says, the question hanging in the air. 

And when you wake up the next morning, to find him in your kitchen with a bowl of cereal all poured out for you and a bouquet of flowers, you can’t help but yell at him. After the shit he pulled last night. 

“You should probably go to your apartment and pack your stuff up. Since you’re leaving tomorrow.” 

“We can do it tomorrow, Belle. Most of my stuff is here anyway.” he says, holding the bowl close to his mouth as he leans over the counter. 

“I can’t take you tomorrow. Megs said he will so you can ask him for help. He-he’s actually on his way now to get you.” you murmur, crossing your hands against your chest. 

He frowns, coming up close to you to wrap his arms around you which you quickly side shuffle out of. You push past him and walk into the kitchen, clutching the countertop hard. Satoru smiles to himself before he turns around, knowing he’s won the war. 

“Do you want me to stay, Belle?” 

You roll your eyes, the audacity of him even suggesting that just pissing you off more. Irritated, because of course he said that. Agitated, because he can read you like a book. 

“No, Satoru. Go home.” 

“You sure? Because it seemed like-” 

“Do you really think it would bother me if you left, Satoru? Do you really think you’re different from any other guy I talked to?” 

Satoru frowns, the angry look on your face the opposite of the love-struck, warm confession he was expecting. But then again, this was you. Argumentative to your core - so he just needs to wrangle it out of you. 

“I know I’ve been here longer than the rest of them, that’s for sure.” 

“And do you think that makes you special, Satoru? Do you sincerely, genuinely think any of that means I would want you to stay right now?” 

“Well, wait- I’m not just any other guy now, you and I, we-” 

“We what? Have history? A long term fling doesn’t make us soulmates, Satoru.” 

“That wasn’t a fling. You and I were-” 

“You and I were no different than what we are now, Satoru. You should have known to not get over involved. I told you from the start that this is how it would be. You leaving didn’t faze me the first time and it won’t faze me the second time either, sweetheart.” 

Satoru moves past you, yanking his hoodie on and grabbing his key off the hook as he swings the door open. And when he shuts the door behind you, his tear-stained face being the last thing you see, you sink onto the floor and can’t help but sob. 

For the first boy you ever loved. Who burned you so bad, that you burned him too. Who soothed over every angry, irritating, argumentative part of you, until it was something you unleashed on him too. 

You wonder why you let yourself into these sinkholes in the first place. 

--

“Hey, man. Have a safe flight home, okay? It was nice getting to know you.” Itadori says, lugging the last of Satoru’s luggage out of the back. 

Satoru gives Itadori one last hug before Megumi starts lugging his bags into the terminal with him, the intense feelings from the day prior still hanging on his chest. 

“You-you’ll take care of her right? After I’m gone?” Satoru asks, as he pulls into the line. 

“Who?” 

“Y/N.” 

“Oh. Yeah, I will. This time around though, I’m not letting Itadori and Nobara invite her to the bar.” 

Satoru smiles, the thought of you drunk, making his heart ache. One of his many favorite sights is you on your fourth glass of wine - when your lips are all pink and when you climb all over him, whispering the corniest, cheesiest things that come to mind. 

“Princess. You’re kind of cutting off my circulation here.” 

“Sss-sorry, Satoru. Wanted to get closer.” you whisper, tangling your arms around his neck and readjusting in his lap. 

“What’s closer than this princess? You’re literally on top of me right now.” he responds, cupping your face to push the hair away from your face. 

“Not close enough.” 

“The only thing closer than this is if you crawled into my skin and became a part of my bloodstream.” 

“Is there a way to do that? Because I would.” 

“You wanna be that close to me, huh princess?” 

“Even when I’m sitting right next to you, right on top of you, literally skin to skin - I still can’t get enough of you. I want to be this close, all the time.” 

Satoru shakes the memory from his mind as the people behind him gesture him to move forward in line, his heart hanging heavier in his chest. 

“She always drinks too much, doesn’t she?” he says. 

“Well, yeah. It’s usually funny. But now she’s going to go back into her moping, angsty teenager phase for the next seven months. I’ll probably be dragging her out of that bar on her legs, for all I know.” 

“Y/N? Angsty? That’s real funny.” 

“No, I’m telling you. When we first met her, all this girl did was cry in the bar. Her sadness was like…contagious or whatever it was making me depressed. One time she sang All Too Well, on the countertop while sobbing until the bartender literally had to kick her ass out.” 

“The first guy she dated when she moved here was that bad, huh?” 

“No. Itadori and Nobara have this running theory, they’ve been trying to figure out who he is for a while. The one thing we know for sure is that he’s definitely from her hometown and that she broke up with him right before she moved here.” 

And that’s when Satoru gets it. That you’re a goddamn liar. And that you definitely did want him to stay. 

Satoru does the only thing he can. Drops everything and runs straight out the airport to make his way back to your apartment. He’ll be damned if he makes the same mistake twice. 

--

You look up from your spot, sprawled on the cold tiles of your kitchen floor, when you hear a key turn in the lock. You immediately sit up to find Satoru, an almost angry look on his face, when he storms in and bends down in front of you. 

“Forget your diapers, grandpa?” 

“Shut up, Y/N.” 

“It’s a long flight. You don’t want to have an accident do you?” 

He brings his hands up to your cheeks, squishing hard so you can’t get another word. And what he says next, the same words he uttered to you in that stupid lake, sober you u pearl fast. 

“Princess, I really, really love it when you argue with me like that but can you please just let me finish?” 

You swallow hard as he gives you a satisfied smile, giving him a soft nod. 

“Do you want me to stay?” 

“God, Satoru. Just quit it with this shit, I already told you no and I mean-” 

“You also told me that it didn’t faze you when we broke up the first time. But then I find out, you were slurring my name in bars and crying about it for months.” 

“So? Do you want a cookie or something?” 

“So you’re a liar. And now I want to know the truth. Do you want me to stay?” 

His eyes are burning, bigger than you’ve ever seen them. The gaze itself is piercing, making the ends of your hair stand up on your arms and legs. You shake his hand off your face as you stand up, scrambling to the other side of the kitchen. 

“I don’t want you to stay.” 

“Yes, you do. You’re lying, Y/N.” 

“No, I’m not. One measly piece of information my friends mention in passing doesn’t mean it’s about you, Satoru.” 

He brings his hands around your wrist, curling his fingers around the skin and squeezing twice. 

“I made the dumbest mistake of my life. I had an opportunity, a real one to be honest about how I felt and I fucked it up, okay? I’ve regretted it every day since you walked away. You were going to go to school - with me. We were going to be together. But then you picked up everything and move to the other side of the fucking planet to halfheartedly date all these guys without a care in the world.” 

“What does stating facts do for you, Satoru? What is it you want me to say?” 

“You know what I want to hear. Say it, Belle.” 

“What? That I left because of you? That I loved you so much that it made my heart hurt? That every second I’m around you it only feels like my love gets bigger for you? That the only person I can’t bring myself to get over is you? Because what does me saying that do for me because you’re just going to-” 

Satoru smiles before he closes the space between you, pushing you into the counter and cradling your cheeks in his hand. He’s leaning into the kiss, so hard that you can feel almost his entire body weight on you as his lips press against yours. 

He’s shaking hard and smiling into the kiss, pulling you back in every time you try to stop, his hands running in your hair as he laughs into your mouth. 

“Was it so hard to tell me that you wanted me to stay?” he whispers, giggling into your ear as he presses kisses into your neck. 

“Was it so hard to tell me you wanted to? You just had to come have this big moment with me here when-” 

“Yes, I did. You deserved a big, lengthy love confession when you were seventeen, at that stupid party. I’m trying to do right by you through this dramatic shit now.” 

“Because this is doing right by me? Making me cry and then running back?” 

“It’s romantic, princess. I ran out of an airport for you.” 

“After we argued. That kind of puts a damper on it.” 

“Oh, shut up. You know argumentative girls have always been my thing.” 

You place your hands around his face, yanking his head out of the crook of your neck as you hold his face in your hands, the skin soft. He still has all the little freckles, the same eyes and nose that you loved when you were seventeen. 

That you love. You love him. 

“Satoru.” 

“Yeah?” 

“How did you get a key to my house?” 

He rolls his eyes as he breaks out of your hold, sticking his tongue out at you. 

“That would have been a really sweet moment for a confession. You ruined it, princess.” 

You smile as you make your way into his arms again, looking up at him from his hold. 

“I made a copy of your key, Y/N.” 

“That’s illegal, Toru. Breaking and entering.” 

“You like to argue. I like to break rules. Everyone has their vices.” 

You bring your hands back up to his cheeks again, the smile on your face hurting your cheeks as you press a kiss to the side of his cheek. 

“Isn’t love the greatest vice, Toru?” you whisper. 

“Maybe for me. Every normal thing hits different when it comes to you.” he says, closing the space between you two again.

--

the satoru as taylor swift songs series masterlist

taglist: @porridgesblog @k0z3me @kayleegomez @yihona-san06 @bsenpai @sweetenertea @skzismyhome @mykyoon @violetmatcha @rebeccawinters @luna0713hunter @shotenvinsoot @itzmeme @squirrelspoetry

#TEE HEE #satoru #satoru gojo #satoru x you #satoru x reader #satoru x y/n #satoru gojo x you #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo x y/n #gojo #gojo x you #gojo x reader #gojo x y/n #gojo satorou #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x y/n #jjk #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk x y/n #jjk fluff #jjk gojo #jujutsu kaisen #seeingivywrites! #read more break

[arrietty-rune]

Hello there ! Updated my AU The Steam Tales of Elmore and redesigned some characters since the first drawings were a bit meh

The story happens in a steampunk version of Elmore so news features and locations in the city, outside this, the citizens are (almost) the same as the show.

The story follow mainly the kids, being older here, having the routine as always. But strange things happens everywhere in the town and are called anomalies. They are recognizable by glitches and have different forms, like objects, weird crack on wall, floor and even... entities.

As they're shown to be dangerous to citizens, they have to be destroyed. A group of teens are working to fix or eliminate them as quickly as possible, but finding them could take a while. Nobody know where they are coming from and why they attack people.

You can like/rb this post without reading what's next!! For some being interested by more (including a small description of each character), here we go ♡

These characters are the common/main ones, idk about a main protagonist ngl !! Here's a small description of each of them !

Gumball Watterson (15 years old): An optimistic kid who always tries to be the hero but mostly fails due to unknown knowledge from the enemy… Alco because he acts before he thinks, despite being smart sometimes.

Darwin Watterson (13 years old): Gumball's little brother who is very nice and seems to be very innocent and like to comfort the others. He was a family pet before he grew lungs and gain the ability of speaking, but unlike in The Origins, he never grew legs. His mechanic ones were gifted thanks to charity.

Penny Fitzgerald (15 years old): A friendly and helpful girl. Though she like to give help and support, she's a bit reserved. Her family wears shells in tradition but broke hers when she was a toddler. The mask she wears are the remains of it.

Rob Needlemeyer (16 years old): A smart and tall kid who think and do planning before acting. He lost his arm 3 years ago after being in contact with a glitchy crack and is replaced by a mechanic one. As being able to be extended, he uses it commonly in routine, especially to help with one of his dads' works. (nb: Rob was never sent to the Void and isn't aware of its existence.)

Tobias Candella (15 years old): An energetic kid that, like Gumball, act before thinking. He used to be a selfish kid and a troublemaker in the past and tries now to be nice, despite being impulsive. As a playful boy who was addicted to video games once, he like to put references from it. He loves Dnd with passion and is very good as being the Dungeon Master.

Rachel Candella (18 years old): Tobias' big sister. She is smart and careful toward her loved ones but act reserved most of time. She usually works alone and is able to know easily the locations of entities compared to others. (nb: Tobias and Rachel have their mom's family name here since she and Harold are divorced)

Clare Cooper (18 years): A quiet girl that prefers to act or analyse the situation before sharing anything to everyone. She can be rude and is sometimes annoyed of stupid people.

Julius Oppenheimmer Jr. (16 years): A kid used to be a troublemaker. Being nicer today, he still can lost his temper when someone annoys him. As having good fighting skills, he can lead the other kids at fighting anomalies in a easier way.

And voilà ! I hope this give you some interest !! Feel free to ask about this, I'm planning to work on it a lot ♥

#tawog #the amazing world of gumball #gumball watterson #darwin watterson #penny fitzgerald #tawog rob #tobias wilson #rachel wilson #clare cooper #julius oppenheimmer jr #there is iiiit! updated version #i drew more characters and i'll post them probably tomorrow ! #blooming tree #steam tales au

[kimbapisnotsushi]

hey all i know a lot of us aren't on twt so here's a post of info from the translated material very kindly given to us by @TrianaNero. first we're starting with info from a bonus volume given to people going to the movie, in which furudate is interviewed about the characters!! some of the questions aren't really necessary to know, some are, and some i think are just funny, which is why there's a mix of them! find the full thread here, of which i directly quoted

kenma is STILL having trouble choosing a fave game BUT apparently his first game was mario kart 64!!

lev's weirdest nickname he received from the upperclassmen is "flora-san", which is (and this is a direct quote) "to honor lev's commendable gut flora that helps him always have good bowel movements" (LMAAAAAO I'M CRYING)

taketora's mohawk came from copying an italian player during his first year

okay i HAVE to include the question in this one because the question was "i admire how considerate and serene kai always is, how can i also become like that?" and the answer is. "face death once". ????? kai??? are you okay???

a "lame pun" that fukunaga likes is "happiceive" LMAO

other than racing each other, inuoka and hinata compete in who can eat fish the cleanest

THIS ONE IS ABOUT SHIBAYAMA MY BOY anyways the question was "nishinoya taught shibayama how to keep calm -- did he manage that?" and the answer was "i'm sure he still has a long way to go" so. it's a work in progress i guess (poor shibayama . . . )

"teshiro and tsukishima both try to avoid noisy places when eating or taking a break and because of that sometimes end up near each other" (this is SO cute i'm crying)

apparently the player that impressed akane the most at the tournament was atsumu?? girl you can do better

"what does alisa consider cool about her brother" "everything" STOP IT RIGHT NOW MY HEART

coach nekomata's favorite alcohol is "sake (the bitter kind)"

IUGASDAD LMNGAAAO ON THE OTHER HAND NAOI GETS "HALF-DRUNK "HALF INTOXICATED" FROM TWO GLASSES OF BEER (and his face turns red at one!)

furudate says that fukunaga was the hardest to draw "because i feel pressured to come up with interesting lines for him"

he also says that he'd be friends with yamamoto if he was on nekoma, because "once you get close to him, you become really good friends pretty easily"

the "we are the blood" speech was something kuroo and the others wanted to "come up with something original for the team" in their second year!! (i think for when they would become third years, according to the post)

AYUDSFBTFDKAS WE HAVE CAT MASCOTS!!! apparently they're all crossbreeds except lev and inuoka (i don't know enough about animals or cats to know what that means) kenma: calico kuroo: black cat yamamoto: orange tabby (@kanoyachi says that he's not neutered in that illustration of them which i have not seen?? do with that what you will) yaku: grey tabby kai: tortoiseshell cat fukunaga: bicolor cat inuoka: maine coon (I WAS NOT EXPECTING THIS) lev: russian blue shibayama: tuxedo cat (SOBBING) teshiro: white cat

never mind i have since been sent that image. what the fuck

uhhh okay i don't entirely get what this one means but Q: Share a secret about Nekoma A: It's not Hanako-san in the toilet, it's Suzuki-san

the full lyrics of hinata's toilet song: "Toi-toi-toilet! Toile-let! Whoam I! The guy! Who'll become the ace! Fly fly a 100 meters! Go go 10k km! And befo-ore tha-at--" (repeat from beginning)

the reason why kageyama is concerned that animals don't like him: "when i was in elementary school, a toy poodle from the neighborhood who'd show his belly to anyone always kept barking at me for some reason"

the only times daichi was angrier than when kageyama and hinata fought was when noya and tanaka "wrestled and broke some equipment". and also when they "tried to race a car while running". apparently they ignored the first warning both times

IUAHFDOS FURUDATE GOT ASKED WHETHER SUGA OR FUKUNAGA WAS FUNNIER AND THE ANSWER WAS "i think it depends on the person. for kenma it's fukunaga"

asahi's favorite animal is "whichever doesn't bite"

Q: How to become as mentally strong/solid as Nishinoya? A: Do everything you're scared of

Q: Tanaka said he gets down in the dumps about once in 6 months, what caused that before? A: When he couldn't spike or serve or pass properly, be that practice or official matches

tsukishima likes shortcakes bc "he used to be rewarded with them for getting his vaccine shots" . . .

apparently yamaguchi likes soggy fries because "they have a very pronounced taste". whatever the hell that means??

Q: What was Yachi's most pessmistic episode up until now? A: When she got an award of excellence at a crime prevention poster competition in middle school. She feared that other people'd be like "why did they choose this", "there's clearly better submissions" (YACHI YOU ARE SO PRECIOUS)

Q: I like Takeda-sensei's "Chaaah!" when he drinks. What other sounds does he make? A: "Okkaree"

ukai got healthy eating habits from a book where he read that your muscles break down if you don't get all the nutrients you need, "and that gave him a really good scare"

Q: Who'd you be best friends with on Karasuno? A: Azumane. Peace.

so apparently a secret about karasuno is that they used to share the club room with a mountain climbing club which "disappeared" (??? i'm assuming that means disbanded it just sounds so ominous) and so they "ended up with quite a big room"

furudate uses a bird-person as his avatar because "i like birds and apparently i remind some people of a bird"

Q: What was the idea behind the recent bonus chapter? A: I wanted to include how nekoma realized it was useless to dive after that ball but they simply couldn't help it in the main manga—but it ruined the flow a little, so i took it out, and then I wanted to include it here.

(STOP IT I'M CRYING YOU'RE TELLING ME THAT COUL;D HAVE BEEN IN THE SERIES???)

HJKSDFGBJKSFD LMAAAAO during furudate's research process he took pics of the players and the seated fans during the match and received suspicious looks for it. and ended that question with "I'm sorry for acting suspiciously" and that's that!!! WHEW that was a doozy. i'll make another post describing some illustrations from the same thread, and one covering the magazine digest thread, so keep an eye out for that as well!! thanks for joing me!!!

#this is such a glorious treasure trove of info i am ELATED #haikyuu #haikyuu!! #sou says stuff

[sgiandubh]

From California to the New York island... - The 2023 edition

I will probably quickly learn not to post exceedingly allusive things when I am running out of time and yet have to jot down the lightbulb moment, lest it's gone forever.

This morning, I mentioned in my post some images that were still freshly baked and put out for consumption on the two main Mordorian news outlets. When people started to ask in droves during my coffee & lunch breaks, I knew I had to go further, despite my deep, jaded reluctance to revisit my own musings. So now, with laundry on the way (fi-nal-ly!) and a hot cocoa by my side, let's hit the road.

This time, we're going to do it with pictures. It's easier, including for the people from Pyongyang, ahem, Mordor. And the dang simplistic context allows for it: what is there to theorize when the strings are so conspicuous?

I was writing, this morning:

This is the image the Mordorian Pravdas didn't show you:

La Niña Vaquera, feeling maybe a bit shot to the curb, when clearly the whole party vibe is where (Red Dress?) Melanie, the MPC boys band and the Blonde Brigade are. Possibly in a chit-chat with somebody who is not S., classy red plastic cup in hand. I had to re-watch the snippet at least six times in a row to find her (a very taxing job, but hey, it's for the cause). Maybe talking to the somebody whose +1 she plausibly was?

FYI, S never looked at her, never touched her, never engaged with her. Not even when she took her artillery sightseeing, while they were cheering with rapture, shot glasses in hand:

Red arrow is BBC, aka La Niña Vaquera. S is offscreen, to the left, looking at who I think is Duncan Millership (blue arrow), who also was with S at the Sasnak City event, and introduced by him as his new manager. @rosfrank confirmed this morning, in one of the comment threads:

So, rather inconclusive, eh?

With KE/Cucumber Yoga Chick out of the building with a bang, we had to somehow be led further on the Breadcrumb Trail, so serviceable *urv obliged and posted the infamous Shutters Pic I also mentioned and described. If you want to see it, park your drones in her backyard: I am not going to post it, because she arrowed it and the least thing I want is to have Ye Auld Wraith (or anyone, for that matter) on my back stat.

To make it clear: would it be for the first time in the history of mankind when a groupie checks in at the same hotel? But hey, let's be pessimistic for once and suppose she's the new Calendar Girl (based on what, I wonder). She went there, took the pic, leaked it and au revoir, les enfants. Fair's fair, for the Banana Boat Day-oh experience.

And then, we have the 'Fan Pic' who bamboozled the tired, weary masses, courtesy of the other Mordorian, CNN-style, news outlet. This I can post: I stole it from @bat-cat-reader and she never minds.

Conveniently, the woman who posted this very clear latergram does not comment. You bet she doesn't. So, I draw some arrows: let's see where they take us.

The hair is not right, as compared to Banana Boat Day-oh:

What do we say? One inch? One inch and a half longer? Three days later? I should pray for the same to happen to my waistline, but the other way round, then.

And then, also: where is...

Yeah: where's the scar, Sir?

Do you see it? I almost broke my nose and I haven't.

Irrespective of what Mordorian media reported, that is not an MPC rucksack, in the picture.

This is an MPC black rucksack:

Featuring this very peculiar fastening system:

The bag in the picture above has a different one and no visible beige reinforcements:

Maybe the MPC bag line did not exist on the surface of this planet when the pic was taken? Maybe he used a different bag (but we know he travels with those, nowadays) ? At any rate, that is not an MPC one.

And because the third time is always a charm, the Water Bottle. Also suggested (less insistently, though) as belonging to the MPC line.

This is an MPC Peaker water bottle:

With this type of bore:

The one in the picture is, again, different, IMHO, even if the image is very blurry:

I wanted to round this up with a bang and identify the damn logo, because I think it might provide very useful clues. I tried, damn I did, but was unsuccessful. I leave this to better sleuths than I.

Until further evidence, I stand on a very reserved ground concerning BBC. There is still absolutely nothing to write home about. But sure, go ahead and make up your own mind. By all means and I mean it. And sorry for the length of it, of course.

[edited for the fourth arrow]

Fuck, I forgot The Vest.

Weather forecast for yesterday, in Santa Monica, Ca.:

Why the vest on the same man who wrote in Waypoints:

Flying somewhere, perhaps?

[queenimmadolla]

𝐁𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬

(Tattoo Artist!Eddie Munson x Apprentice!Reader)

Summary: . . . After deciding you were meant for more than what life had in store for you, you gave into the siren call of the city─well a city. But when city life finally eats away at your bank account and your main source of income isn't reliable, you take on an apprenticeship at a tattoo shop where your boss is the six-foot something, tattoo covered Eddie Munson who quickly and unwisely becomes intrigued by you. Nothing romantic can come from it, lest you risk it being torn apart by your past, his lover and yourself.

Entire Work Warnings: 18+ (smut will take place in later chapters), swearing, financial problems, mentions of loss, escorts/call girls, age gap (Eddie is 36, reader is 25), financial shaming, slut shaming, implied sexual harassment, bimbo!reader (she may not be book smart but she knows the score) angst, self-sabotage.

a/n: my fav little hater was upset about my post getting interactions again so they flagged it to be incorrectly labeled, meaning it's hidden from the majority of people so repost time! there is no mature content in this chapter, suck it. based on my initial post and elements of Breakfast at Tiffany's. next chapters will be significantly juicer, this was just something to get us going. this is dedicated to @munsonology, happy birthday and I hope this year was a good one! and a very gratitude filled thank you to my dear friend, @kitmon, for continuing to be an an amazing beta! hope you guys like it so far ♡ (attempting the keep reading feature, fingers crossed)

word count: 5k

“They don’t bite.” “Hmn?” Came your absent-minded reply, eyes cutting from the harpy, evil in her eyes and blood soaking her talons, to the man flipping through the red binder you’d been carrying around you in the Indianapolis heat. 

  Sweat evaporated off your skin, giving away to goosebumps in the air conditioned shop, a much welcome relief to the borderline unbearable heatwave settling over the city streets, something that can be found in every nook and cranny. You’d been navigating your way throughout the city since before dawn broke, eager to get your fill of it while the streets were quiet and a decent temperature. It had been almost chilly this morning, your thick strapped tank top and daisy dukes—that you normally wouldn’t allow yourself to be caught dead in—leaving most of your skin exposed, with no direct sunlight to warm it. Now that the sun was out, you were on fire out there.

“The artwork.” He glanced at the framed harpy drawing along the wall, the one you’d been staring at, one of many framed depictions of gruesome and mythical looking creatures. “I don’t blame you though, that one isn’t particularly my favorite. Pretty badass, though. Heh.” “Oh,” You shook your head, the oversized shades adorning your face sliding down the bridge of your nose, “No, I’m not afraid of it. I like it. It must have taken forever though.”

  You turned your attention to her again, admiring how realistic her feathers appeared. Painstakingly detailed and whoever was walking around the city with her on their body surely endured a generous amount of pain to get her. 

  And a large hole in their wallet.

  “It took a ton of sessions, for sure. My boy did it a couple years ago.” The man, Argyle, as he’d introduced himself when you’d first walked into the shop, flipped his long black hair over his shoulder before he flipped to the next page of your portfolio. He let out a sound of appreciation as he leaned his weight on his elbow, hand resting over his mouth.

  “This is good! This is really good!”

You lifted your chin to peer at the drawing he was fascinated with. Ah.

It was a drawing of the skeletal Grim Reaper, cloaked in a black robe and scythe clutched in one hand while his boney middle fingers stretched his eye socket holes down in an obvious taunt. A tongue, black and tendril like, lulled out of his mouth.

You thought it was pretty good, too. The idea for it had struck you at a party, you’d been hiding from an annoying suitor and ducked into an office room, doodling to your heart's content once you grew past your boredom.

You grinned, a feeling of giddiness beginning to bubble inside you.

“Listen, the DM’s out right now, running some errands. He should be back soon, can I hold onto this?” Argyle asked, gripping the sides of the binder and raising it as if you didn’t already know he was referring to your portfolio, “I think he’ll be pretty impressed with your stuff.” You fidgeted with your fingers, giddiness giving away to nerves once more. “Really? You think so?” Hope was something you hadn’t felt in a while; you’d been through exactly fourteen tattoo shops throughout the city, most of which you’d been rebuffed from before they so much as flipped open your portfolio, having already decided your particular aesthetic didn’t fit their image. They hadn’t verbalized as much, but you knew. You glanced down at your pink boots, already such a stark contrast to the black beams beneath your feet.

It wouldn’t be a big deal if you hadn’t made a wager with yourself, you could only go home once you’d accomplished your task of getting one of the shop owners to actually look at your work. While Argyle had made it clear he wasn’t the head honcho, he’d be passing it along.

“Yeah, man! This is some pretty legit stuff! I’ve been tatting, myself, for a couple years now, and I’m good–don’t wanna flex or nothing but I’m really good. Only it took a couple of years for me to actually get this good, you know? And I’m not even talking about on skin. You haven’t tattooed anyone before, right?” You thought back to when you had mentioned your art skill to a brief...something, he’d been intoxicated enough on expensive wine and your sangria kisses to encourage you to use the tattoo kit one of your friends had re-gifted you after her interest in the subject waned. You’d never particularly imagined yourself etching into people’s skin before, not even when she’d given you the supplies because she’d seen some of your doodles.

Thanks to her, a suit and tie you no longer spoke to, who made more money than you’ll ever see, was walking around with a secret under his briefs: a pair of shiny cherries on his left ass cheek.

  It was no loss to you. Sure, he made money. Just not nearly enough for you to tolerate how aggressive he’d been with his affections as soon as he was sloshed. You’d given him the tattoo with his drunk pals cheering him on, went out to a very high standard club, then promptly ditched him the moment you were out of his sight. You hadn’t answered the door when he came pounding on it the next morning and the morning after that.

  You’d originally had no intentions of using the tattoo equipment, until that encounter. It had planted a seed, an idea that may get you out of what you had to do to survive. Tattooing hadn’t been a passion, and it still wasn’t quite one but you needed money and you had talent.

“No,” You lied with a shake of your head, “I haven’t.”

“That’ll change soon,” he laughed, closing your binder as he leaned further over the glass counter. Your gaze briefly flickered to the jewelry it housed.

  “You got a number we can reach you at?”

  You’d scrawled the number of your landline down on the back of one of their business cards before Argyle could rethink his decision to pass your work along. 

  “Hopefully, we’ll see you soon!” He called out as you retreated towards the door.

  God, I hope so.

  The thought of a somewhat stable job that could help the pitiful state of your checking and savings account was the only thing powering you through your long walk home. You couldn’t risk a cab, that would mean you’d have no fare money for tonight, and who knows if you’d have to make a speedy exit?

  You’d learned. Eventually.

  Forty-five minutes later, you entered your apartment, sagging back against the door as you dropped your back and kicked your shoes off, unconcerned as to where exactly they’d landed. 

  Sweat glistened over your skin, and unlike in that last tattoo shop, there was no cool air conditioning to cool you. You and Sid saved that for special occasions.

  Instead, you opened the large window to the fire escape, obnoxious sounds of the city you called home filling the apartment.

  It wasn’t much, but it was better. Next came the matter of your clothes, stuck in the most uncomfortable of ways to your flesh. Your tank top was peeled off and thrown over the couch, daisy dukes abandoned near the entryway of the small kitchen on your way to the bathroom.

  A quick glance was spared behind you, taking in the state of your shared home. It was a mess and not even remotely surprising. The place was barely furnished with the essentials, all of which were secondhand: a couch, a coffee table with a sheet over it to hide the stains, one shelving unit, a rug and tapestries hung artfully on the walls for deception. They made the place look more put together than it was, but you’d love it even if it were still barren. A roof over your head in the city meant you didn’t have to return to the past you’d clawed your way out of..

  The only thing worth much was the framed photo on the kitchen counter, and that was only in sentimental value. You and Sid, arms around each other’s shoulders as you sat in a booth at a shitty diner you’d tried upon first moving to the city. They’d taken your photo for being the 600th customer and tacked it to the wall.

  You’d stolen it and had no regrets because you got to keep your memory and ended up getting food poisoning.

  With a shrug, you entered the bathroom for a much needed scrub down and some disassociating. Your mess could wait.

  ─

  Eddie was not in a great mood when he walked into the shop.

  His jacket was clutched in a sweaty palm, rings twisting around the flesh of his fingers and his bangs were beginning to stick to his forehead, all the result of the walk from his fucking car to the shop door. 

  “Grumpy?” Argyle asked, amused with the clear annoyance on his face.

  Eddie sneered, standing under the vent for a minute to cool down, “Triple digits. Triple fucking digits out there, man. You could shove a thermometer up the devil’s asshole and it’d be cooler than that.”

  Once he’d solidified, he stalked past the front desk, threw his jacket onto the counter and picked up a stack of mail.

  “Did I miss anything?” Eddie asked as he flipped through the envelopes, mostly junk.

  “A couple of walk-ins. Nothing too major there, handled them myself. Simple stuff, one wanted a goldfish. Not like a detailed one, like how you’d try and draw a goldfish cracker. We did have a few who wanted a couple of advance pieces, got ‘em booked for consultations with Johnny boy and Rob.”

  “Nice,” Eddie chuckled under his breath at the mental image of the goldfish tattoo, most likely an act of affection. Tattooing people who wanted to permanently carry reminders of their children was one of Eddie’s favorites to do, partially because of the sentiment but mostly because the drawings were amusing.

  He’d just finished tossing out the junk mail when he reached for his jacket to hang it up properly and discovered it had been concealing something. 

  “What’s this?” Eddie asked as he lifted the slim red binder. Looked relatively new.

  “Huh?” Argyle glanced up from the sketch he was working on, recognition flashing across his face, “Oh, yeah! We got a prospective new hire, someone dropped off their portfolio.”

  Eddie rolled his eyes and heaved out a heavy sigh as his jacket was tossed aside yet again.He had nothing against other tattoo artists, but the last one he’d hired that hadn’t come from his friend group ended up nearly destroying the group. 

  Henry had been charming, good at his job and charismatic. Turns out, he’d also been a master manipulator and had a particularly abhorrent temper. Tensions had been high, heads were butting and fights had occurred–with a permanent reminder in the wall near the front entrance where a large hole had been punched through the wall. Henry had to go.

  Eddie wasn’t looking to repeat the situation.

  “I think we’re good on artists around here–and put a reminder on the calendar for me to patch that damn crater up.”  

  “Well, it’s a good thing the artist isn’t a tattoo artist. Yet. I’d look at that portfolio first before making any decisions, if I were you. I think you’re gonna see the beginnings of something goooooood, and dude, you’ll be killing our fun if you fix it. Do you know how many glory hole jokes we tell?” Eddie ignored the latter half of Argyle’s statement, reluctantly flipping the portfolio open to the first page and annoyance began to associate itself with him once more. 

  A body, in a state of decomposition greeted him. But it wasn’t maggots or rotting flesh involved. Flowers grew out of the crevices, with moss and mushrooms over her skin. A lot of fine line work.

  The next page was home to a bird-like creature with the body of a lion, a Griffin. Done in American Traditional.

  A skinny, demonic looking goat with horns and legs long enough to belong to a horse, clouded eyes and wyvern wings was on the page after that. The Jersey Devil. Someone knew their Cryptids.

  The portfolio contained a vast amount of drawings from horror depictions to more aesthetically pleasing visions; the hydra, skeletons, dragons, goddesses, respectable attempts at the modern Renaissance pieces, and even a couple of Barbie references, ranging in a variety of tattoo styles. 

  Eddie closed the portfolio and drummed his fingertips across the countertop, scowling. 

  That long haired doofus was right. This was beyond good work. But if they weren’t a tattoo artist, there wasn’t much Eddie could do with them. Drawing on paper is a much more different experience than skin. Mistakes can be erased on paper, the sketch done over again. Can’t do the same on flesh. 

  It’s intimidating. 

  They’d have to start off slow, like he had. Trained under a watchful eye, an expert who’d guide them with experienced hands. He was sure Jonathan and Robin would be eager to have an apprentice.

  But before Eddie would even begin to entertain the idea of an apprentice in his shop, he’d have to see exactly what it was he was working with.

  “Leave a number?” He asked without looking at Argyle because he knew he’d see nothing but a smug expression.

  “Yup.”

  “See if you can get him back in the shop tomorrow.”

  “Why not today?”

  “Because I have a session for the rest of the day, remember?”

  “Oh, yeah! I forgot.” Argyle’s grin was sheepish as he read off the calendar. “Stacy Peterson called. Car troubles. Unable to make it to appointment with Eddie. Rescheduled. Heh. So…you also missed that.”

  “I’ll strangle you later, just get him in here then.”

  Argyle opened his mouth, then closed it as an expression that said I know something you don’t crossed his strong features. “Righty-O, boss. I’ll give him a call.”

  You’d been lounging in the bathtub, hair up and out of the way, eyeing the grooves of the shower tile. They were a permanent taunt, stained dark no matter how hard you and Sid scrubbed and you hated the sight of them. 

  People with money didn't have to stare at them, able to afford to have them professionally cleaned or the shower wall—the entire bathroom renovated.

  Someday, that would be you. 

  You sunk further into the water, toeing at the faucet when the shrill sound of the landline filled your more than humble home. The thought of simply letting it ring played in your head until you remembered the tattoo shop you’d visited last. 

  Hastily rising from the tub, water was splashed along the floor while you did a terrible job of drying off and ran naked the rest of the way to the living room, almost slipping as you did.

  The receiver was yanked off its post, “Hello?”

  “What’s up, Dudette? Argyle calling, dunno if you remember me from earlier…”

  “Yeah! From the tattoo shop, right?”

  “Right-O! Listen, The Dungeon Master is in and he wants to see if you can get down here to show him what you got. Possible?”

  “Yeah, it’ll be no problem!” You’d have to run most of the way but street traffic around this time wasn’t that bad so you wouldn’t have to fight your way through bodies.

  “Cool, cool, cool. And between you and me, this is pretty much the interview process. Good luck, dudette, and may the force be with your tattie skills. I’ll see you when you get here!”

  As soon as you’d hung up, you ran to your room to get dressed. You didn’t have much of a wardrobe, but it wasn’t high on your list of priorities considering you and Sid practically shared one. Another tank top was selected—to mitigate sweating on your way to your interview—along with a gifted pink thong and matching bra. You’d snagged your Daisy Dukes from the floor on your way out, shimmied them on, grabbed your small bag and keys and headed out.

  The selection of attire was a good one, the heat was still stupidly unbearable and heavy. You’d need to wash off again tonight. You’d managed to make it to the shop in under twenty-five minutes, having ignored all the looks you’d received as you hurried along the streets and the feeling of the air conditioner on your skin was a welcome one when you made your way back into the shop.

  Argyle greeted you with a bright grin from his place behind the counter, throwing up his hands, “You made it! One sec.”

  Then he turned his upper body to call into an area you couldn’t quite see into, “Oh, Eddie boy! Your prospect has arrived.”

  You hadn’t cared to entertain ideas on what your potential boss could look like, all you were concerned about was the position and getting your foot in the door. Even if you had tried to imagine him, nothing could have prepared you for the actual sight of him when he emerged.

  He was big, tall and cloaked in black, despite the heat of the city. He wore what you figured had once been a black t-shirt but was now lacking sleeves and a proper neck hem to be considered a makeshift tank. His pants were shiny leather and also tight, hugging the muscles of his thighs, and he sported a dark pair of pointed boots.

  He wasn’t particularly muscular enough to be the body builder type, but it looked like he could probably pick another grown man up with ease. His skin had a light tan to it, barely anything really, just like everyone else, he obviously couldn’t escape the sun. It was littered with intricate tattoos, weaving up his arms—a few you could tell disappeared under his shirt—and his neck.

  The word freak was permanently etched in black ink along his temple and over his eyebrow. Two silver balls decorated his other eyebrow.

  Leaning up against the back wall like that, arms crossed to make the muscles of his arms bulge slightly and oozing confidence, he looked like the personification of some really good sex.

  But he wasn’t what you were seeking out and you didn’t like to mix business with pleasure.

  Eddie was caught completely off guard, trying to school his shock and keep his composure.

  When he’d seen that portfolio, he was expecting someone with jagged edges, piercings galore and more than just a couple of tattoos to be behind it and standing in the entryway of his shop.

  Someone who looked like their art.

  You…didn’t. With your little pink cowboy boots, tank top that accentuated your figure and shorts so small, they should’ve been considered a form of underwear, you didn’t look at all similar to what Eddie was expecting. Not even if he closed his eyes.

  You didn’t waste time, quickly introducing yourself as you stepped up to the front desk and Eddie pulled himself from his stupor, closing the distance to shake your palm. Smaller than his (though most were) and slightly sweaty, no doubt due to that god forsaken heat outside.

  Eddie could see bits of your hair sticking to your skin, little beads of sweat prickling over your exposed collarbone and trailing down, down between your─

  “Thank you for taking the time to even look at my portfolio! I really appreciate it.”

  Eddie blinked hard, clearing his throat before smirking to pretend he hadn’t been drawn in by your chest.

  What the fuck was wrong with him all of a sudden? 

  He’d had plenty of beautiful clients, he’d tattooed nice asses, tits, pubic regions, thighs, all the beautiful areas. Now all of a sudden he was acting like he’d never seen a pair of tits before. 

  Hell, Eddie had been thoroughly busy with a pair, held them in his hands before he came into the shop.

  Professionalism, he reminded himself.

  “Not a problem, what I see—saw was pretty impressive,” Nice save, Eddie, you dick. He cursed himself, “You adapt well to different styles.”

  “Thanks!” You chirped, excitement filling you at the praise. It was so nice to hear positive feedback about your work instead of being sent out of a shop before they so much as opened your binder. “I like to experiment with different styles, see what it is that people like so much about them and honestly, it’s mostly because I haven’t quite found my art style just yet.”

  Hence your range, you were constantly expanding with your art because you hadn’t found one style you wanted to make yours yet. Or maybe you had and just didn’t know it yet. Whatever.

  Eddie and Argyle exchanged a look before he stepped back and nodded in the direction he came, “Why don’t you follow me? Show me what you can do?”

  You didn’t hesitate, stepping past the front desk.

  There was more artwork lining the short hall he took you down until you arrived at another room, obviously one meant for actual tattooing as there was a tattoo chair in the middle of the room. 

  On one of the counters, was an area already prepped for you. A tattoo gun, some ink, and some obviously fake skin that rested on top of a disposable sheet cloth, along with some gloves.

  “Argyle tells me you haven’t worked on skin before.”

  Sure you haven’t.

  “Not a whole lot of people lining up to get tattooed by someone with no experience,” you shrugged, following him over to the counter he was leaning up against.

  “You’re hanging around the wrong crowd then.” He joked and you let out a small laugh.

  He had no idea how right he was.

  “The first tattoos I ever got were from inexperienced people. This one,” he gestured to a Wyvern on the back of his arm, “I got my junior year of high school from a waitress at a bar I always snuck into.”

  “And this one,” he yanked the tattered collar of his shirt down to expose more ink, but the one he was referring to was a spider, “I got my first senior year from someone I did…business with.”

  First senior year? Eddie was proving to be an interesting character.

  “But enough about me,” Eddie released his shirt, allowing it to hide the artwork depicted on his chest, “let’s get down to business.”

  Before he could even explain what everything was, you dropped your purse onto the counter nearby, pulling a small box of unopened gloves from it.

  “You mind?” You asked, fingers poised to rip it open.

  “Go for it,” He shrugged. Gloves were gloves, so long as they were uncontaminated he didn’t mind.

  You tore into them and Eddie was still somehow surprised to see they were pink. Clearly his black ones weren’t your style.

  “Can I ask you a question?” You asked as you pulled the gloves on. Eddie watched you, intrigued as you finished assembling the tattoo gun without his help and opened the ink pack. 

  “Sure,” He mused, eyeing you skeptically. Hadn’t tattooed anyone but you were clearly familiar with it. Interesting.

  “Did your tattoos hurt?”

  Eddie waited until after you’d started the tattoo gun and got into working on the fake flesh. Apparently you already had an idea in mind.

  “A bit of an amateur question, you don’t have one?”

  “Nope.” You confirmed, paying him no mind as you leaned forward, gaze focused solely on your task, “I kind of want one but I’m not in any particular rush, you know?”

  Eddie made a sound of agreement, at a brief loss of words as you arched your back, ass sticking out and he became painfully aware you were wearing a hot pink thong, the tails of it peaking out past the top of your denim shorts. He should’ve offered you a seat but you didn’t seem all that bothered with standing.

  No, that was apparently his foil, because he was incredibly bothered by you standing, especially with your ass out like that; when it made his pants tighten considerably in his crotch region.

  He was getting hard. 

  Eddie was mortified, stiffening (go figure) as he attempted to calm himself, eyes darting away from your ass to stare at one of the cabinets. Of course this had to happen to him on the day he chose to wear a pair of pants that left little to the imagination should the boy downstairs start acting up.

  Don’t look. Don’t look. Don’t look.

  “Hurts, depending on the area, which I’m sure you already know. The tattoos on my back and my thighs hurt pretty bad. Forearms were a bitch, but nothing I couldn’t handle. The ones on my wrists and hands were the worst, pain wise, in my opinion. Obviously it didn't stop me, but those tend to be areas with a lot of bones, veins and very little muscle, so it’s expected.”

  You hummed in response and his gaze briefly flittered over to you before his cock pulsed and he tore it away again, grateful your attention wasn’t on him.

  The remainder of the ‘session’ was spent in relative silence with the music playing through the speakers installed throughout the shop, keeping it from being awkward. Eddie had just managed to will his erection away when you finished, setting down the gun before you pulled your gloves off.

  “What do you think?” You asked, still admiring your work and Eddie peered around you to assess it.

  A wyvern, similar to the one on his arm but done in a fine line style.

  He chuckled, amused with your reference and you fought valiantly with yourself not to grin. You were trying to impress him, sticking with a subject he liked enough to make it a part of him permanently, but you hadn’t imitated the style of it to keep from downright copying and to showcase your ability to adapt.

  “That’s pretty good,” And it was, not a whole lot of people could get lines that perfect or seem as confident in their abilities on their first try. Still, Eddie could tell you’d have some ways to go before you were ready to be on your own, “but you can do better.”

  You tried not to frown, “Oh.”

  Eddie smirked and you finally turned to face him, apprehension on your face.

  “Don’t look so down. After some time around here, watching us work, you’ll be ready. The apprenticeship will fly by in no time.”

  “Wait—you mean—you want me?!”

  “I’d be stupid not to.”

  You let out a squeal and threw yourself at him, giving him a quick squeeze before your brain caught up to your body and you pulled away.

  “Sorry, sorry! I’m just so excited.”

  Eddie cleared his throat, shifting his body away from you and rasped out, “Argyle will have the paperwork for you to fill out.”

  “Got it,” You grabbed your bag and was just about to head out of the room when Eddie called your name, “Huh?”

  “Be back at the same time tomorrow. You’ll be practicing on real skin.” 

  “But I thought you said—” 

  “Me.”

  Something in you bubbled with excitement and nerves.

  You nodded once and then left the room to see Argyle for your paperwork.

  “So?????” Argyle asked once you’d approached him, a sullen look on your face. 

  You couldn’t keep the act up, beaming as you practically bounced, “I’ll be seeing you around more often now!” 

  He whooped, extending an arm out for a high-five which you reciprocated.

  “You are gonna love it here, Dudette. Just wait until you meet everyone! First, we gotta start on your employment.” 

  Your brows furrowed as you watched him go through a filing cabinet.

  “Wait—this is paid?”

  “Yeah! We’re not big on slave labor here.”

  Score for you! You had a feeling you wouldn’t be clocking a ton of hours but every single penny counted, especially considering how hard of a time you had actually building a savings account.

  Argyle had walked you through the paperwork, where to sign, what things meant and since the shop was getting ready to close up you’d simply just bring the completed paperwork back with you tomorrow.

  The door chimed behind you and you turned to see who could be coming in at the last minute, eyes widening at the voluptuous woman before you. Her hair was long and jet black, skin pale (apparently one person in this city was capable of defying the sun) and make-up done so elegantly it reminded you of actresses from the silver screen era. Her dress was simple, black and hugged her curves exceptionally well. You could tell it was worth more than everything in your apartment combined and you’d feel bad about it if you also couldn’t tell she was older than you. 

  You’d have time to get there.

  “Hey, Deidre.”

  “Hello, Argyle.” She gave the both of you a dazzling smile as she removed her sunglasses and walked right past Argyle, down the hall you’d come from.

  He didn’t even look surprised and paid her no real attention.

  “We’ll see you soon?”

  “Damn straight.”

  Argyle let out another cheer as you walked out the door with high spirits. Not even the nasty, hot air could get you down.

  You’d climbed up the stone steps until you reached the sidewalk and glanced behind you at the neon sign depicting the name of the tattoo shop you’d now be working at.

  “Welcome to The Dungeon,” You mumbled to yourself with a smile. 

  You turned back to the sidewalk, staring down at the pathway you’d have to take before you thought better of it, sticking your fingers into your mouth to give a sharp whistle.

  It caught the attention of a cab driver down the street, and you gave him your address when he’d pulled up and you’d hopped in, ready to prepare for tonight's plans. You deserved a little break, after all, you were one step closer to securing the future of your dreams.

  Eddie sagged against the counter once you’d left the room, scowling down at the bulge that had reappeared in his pants when you’d hugged him.

  Why his body was suddenly acting like he was a horny teenager again, he had no idea.

  He wasn’t about to do anything about it, though. Not when you’d be hanging around the shop for the foreseeable future. Eddie didn’t get involved with his employees. He’d worked in a couple of shops where he’d witnessed that occur and it always ended in a mess. Not a good kind.

  He busied himself with cleaning up, tossing away the supplies you’d used and storing your first piece of work. It’d be nice for you to look back at once your apprenticeship was over. When Eddie had nothing else to clean, he sighed and rubbed at his eyelids. 

  Platonic. Professional. God, if he couldn’t keep his dick in check, he’d be in a world of trouble. You’d be trouble.

  “Need a hand?”

  Eddie snapped around, relieved to see it was just Deidre. Explaining why he had a boner to anyone else wasn’t something he was keen on doing. In fact, he probably wouldn’t be telling her exactly why, either.

  Taking her up on her offer, however, was something he would eagerly do.

  “Are you offering yours?”

  She laughed, setting her purse down on the counter where your bag had been just a few minutes ago, and walked right up to Eddie, her body pressed against his and grinding onto him as the older woman slid her arms around his shoulders.

  “Mmm, not just my hand.”

  All Eddie knew next was the taste of her red lipstick. 

#tattoo artist!eddie munson x apprentice!reader #tattoo artist!eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #older!eddie munson #he's older than me so im counting it #eddie munson x reader angst #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #bimbo!reader #eddie munson x bimbo!reader #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x black!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #Between the Lines

[strobichie]

just sae.

♡⸝⸝ summary: poor you decided to replay ddlc, but something seems wrong... why is monika sae?

little note: bachira is sayori, rin is natsuki, and isagi is yuri!!

your perspective:

i had recently gotten a new computer, there are so many things i still need to work with and customise to my liking.

so, to cure my boredom, i'm installing ddlc again and replaying it!

my favourite character is natsuki, i absolutely loved how adorable and relatable she just is. she reminded me of one of the kids i babysat.

after installing the win files i extracted them all and started the game up, as usual, i see the 4 dokis on the main screen on startup.

i entered my name of choice and started the game ---

wait, bachira??? FROM BLUE LOCK??

why was he sayori? not gonna lie, his sprites are really cute, but how..??

i re-checked the website i downloaded the game from but it displayed the 4 dokis there and there was nothing wrong..

huh, why am i being scared?

i should be grateful, honestly.

i've been blessed by the gods above!! for once i'm fucking lucky!

no way was i gonna pass up the opportunity to interact with my favourite anime characters especially since they somehow ended up in my favourite childhood game..!

i wonder who natsuki, yuri, and monika would be, though?

this is interesting! as i progress even more reading the dialogues and clicking on the chat box, after a few minutes of suffering i finally got to the literature club with bachira!

"seriously, a girl? way to be a killjoy." rin... RIN?!?!?!?!?!

OH MY GOD RIN IS SO HOT? HIS ATTRACTIVENESS SCALE WENT TO 100 TO 1000 SO QUICK!!

wait.. could that mean ---

ISAGI IS YURI!! YES!! MY FAVOURITES ALL IN ONE ROOM!!

i hope monika is kaiser or even better, anri..!!

gosh this got me feelin' so giddy and chipper in the early fucking morning..

i skipped a few of the dialogues, and abruptly stopped when a certain person came into view.

...sae? really?

what an eyesore. i hate sae, of all people, why sae?

sure he was similar to monika, but only in appearance. kaiser or anri could have been able to fulfill this role.

i sighed in annoyance, at least i have rin and the others...

i continuously skipped many dialogues and had finally gotten to the part where sayori, or in this situation bachira, hangs himself..

right, this was a horror game after all. did i really forget about the main plot?

i stared at the screen with an obvious frown. rin and isagi are next..

and the person behind all this was saeshit. ugh, seriously... well, good thing i can just delete his files at any given time.

progressing through the story even further, i got a special poem and cringed at the 'drawing'. it was bachira hanging in a humorous manner.

this was unfortunate.

i clicked on the chat box endlessly, wanting to speedrun to the moments of all my favourite characters deaths..

seeing rin crack his neck and isagi stab himself looking like a crazed maniac broke my heart. good things don't last.. this will probably be the last time i'll ever be able to play this version of the game.

then, here sae was, fuck was he smiling for?

"let me take a quick one of rin's cupcakes, these such are really good for a brother so shitty and nasty." i scoffed and gritted my teeth in anger, sae was clearly the asshole in their brother-ship.

i was met face-to-face with sae, i pursed my lips and stared at my computer screen.

"it's nice to talk to you even if it's by a dialogue box." is this even real?

"i know that you're thinking: is this legitimate? to answer your question, yes it is. i became self aware after everything in that god damn manga and anime called blue lock, i felt sick and tired of not being able to show up in the manga after a long period of time. somehow, i found a way to break the barrier between the fictional animanga world and reality as you call it." that was a mouthful. he was pretty talkative now. my burning hatred for sae cooled down a bit as he spoke more ---

"i found this 'cutesy romance horror' game and it had all the things i needed in order to cross over to the real world. this version of the game only exists on your desktop, {user}. is {user} even your name? are you even a girl?" he shot me a confused expression.

"honestly, i don't care anymore. even i started falling in love with you. i thought i wasn't capable of love, just like the original character monika, i fell in love with you." this sent a shiver down my spine, i sweat-dropped and continued reading his dialogues.

"you read that right, i love you. even if i'm not real, i love you. i won't ever let you leave me. i'll kill you even if you think of it." he coldly stated and i opened my file explorer, ready to delete his character file --- huh.. why couldn't i delete it?

"i'm disappointed, why would you wanna try to delete me? i love you, you should be grateful i love you." but i hated sae, i hate him!

"i've been practicing for a while, i think i can finally break the laws of physics and rules of nature between our worlds." uhm, does he even know what the fuck's he saying?

"i'll see you soon, goodbye {name}. i love you." HOW DID HE GET MY NAME? DID HE HACK INTO MY COMPUTER BECAUSE WHAT THE FUCK..?!?!?!

i was scared shitless, jesus christ, just what did he mean by all that? i force shut down my computer and rolled to my bed covering myself in my blankets. time to go back to sleep after that eventful experience.

short little fic, should i make a part two?

finally made a part 2!

#yandere #yandere blue lock #blue lock #bllk #sae itoshi #itoshi sae #rin itoshi #itoshi rin #isagi yoichi #yoichi isagi #himsagi goatichi #bachira meguru #meguru bachira #michael kaiser #anri teieri #ddlc #monika #sayori #yuri #natsuki #blue lock x reader #x female reader #x fem!reader #x female y/n #yandere sae #yandere sae itoshi #short fic #short ficlet