#chapter 1 leather jacket my beloved

[dalekinapaintedparadise]

John Wick + outfits

#john wick #keanu reeves #john wick 2 #john wick 3 #john wick 4 #john wick movies #johnwickedit #john wick chapter 4 #john wick chapter 3 parabellum #myedit #i was tempted to gif just the suits #but he does actually #wear other clothes as well #but mostly suits #insert a gif of barney stinson yelling: #'YOU'RE WEARING A SUIT!' #chapter 1 leather jacket my beloved

[flowerandblood]

My Best Friend (1)

[modern! club owner • Aemond x fem!reader]

[warnings: mention of stalking]

[description: Aemond has his own club and often does business at the home of one of his business associates. There he often meets his younger sister, with whom he develops a deeper relationship through shared secrets. This is slow burn love story.]

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Previous and next chapters: Masterlist

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This series has a sequel under a different title, My Beloved Nymph, which you can read here: Part 1

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Aemond arrived at their house a little late, angry and discouraged. He had to drive the drunk and mumbling Aegon home again and reassure their mother, that he would be fine. He was tired of being his nanny. He slammed the car door shut and walked out of the driveway onto the porch of house. 

He knocked on the door. After a few moments he heard footsteps and the sound of a lock opening. It was opened by Klaus, a tall, handsome brunette with a slender face and brown eyes. He was the owner of the house and his longtime buissnes partner. He got him access to all kinds of booze - and more - to the club Aemond owned.

"Sorry, something stopped me." He said shortly as he entered.

Klaus just looked at him meaningfully.

"Aegon?"

Aemond didn't answer. His grimace was enough. He took off his leather jacket and hung it on the hanger. They went into the living room, where two other men were sitting - Albert and Criston. 

Aemond immediately shook hands with the second man - they had been on good terms for years, Criston was also a frequent visitor to his club. He shook Albert's hand as well, though not as much with joy. 

Albert was a slippery and unpredictable man. Aemond knew, that he had been trying to do business with the Mafia for years, and he preferred to stay away from such things. After a brief greeting, Aemond settled into one of the armchairs. 

Klaus offered him a drink and Aemond just nodded. The living room and kitchen were separated from each other only by a countertop. Following Klaus, he saw, that there was another person standing in the kitchen. 

The girl he saw was the younger sister of Klaus. Their eyes met. She smiled at him in greeting, and he nodded to her.

Y/N was still on University. He knew, that she was a designer and could draw. Sometimes she would sketch them from afar at one of their meetings, though she hid herself so well, that usually no one noticed. Aemond, though they had only exchanged a few sentences during their "acquaintance", was fond of her.

 She didn't seek constant attention and didn't bother them, unless something very urgent happened. She distanced herself from their affairs, knowing, that some things were better left out. 

Sometimes, when they drank too much and she came down to get a glass of water at night, Klaus would make fun of her and she would make him laugh and tease him. They were tossing some nonsense and rolling with laughter, causing Criston and Albert to laugh too. He envied their relationship.

Although he had a good relationship with his sister, Healena, they were never able to establish such a connection. They were both incredibly closed and distant. Y/N and Klaus were assertive and empathetic, mischievous in a comical way, but at the same time, somehow, affectionate. They reminded him in an unpleasant way of how broken his family was.

Y/N went upstairs and they started discussing business topics. Albert tried to get Aemond to take some "new" drugs from his mob colleagues, but he steadfastly refused. No amount of money or opportunity could force him to get into this shit. Most of all, he wanted Klaus to get him whiskey and vodka at a better price than before. 

They talked until late. Criston was the first to say goodbye, an hour later Albert left. Aemond also got up to slowly make his way home, but Klaus' voice stopped him.

"How is your father?"

Aemond stopped. He didn't know, if he wanted to discuss this. His mother tried to talk to him about it, but he didn't want to. Not with her. Klaus, however, was an outsider. Aemond sighed.

"Getting worse." He replied after a moment of silence. "He confuses my mother's name with his ex-wife."

Klaus was silent for a moment.

"Let's have another drink."

One drink turned into two, then three. Aemond was talking about Aegon and his father. About how when he opened the club, his father didn't go there once. About Aegon having a drinking and gambling problem. That he keeps bringing home new girls, much to his mother's despair.

He was surprised, that he was spilling all this, but Klaus was a good listener. He didn't interrupt him or lecture him. Occasionally he would comment on a sentence, but generally he looked at him with understanding. 

Aemond felt he had drunk too much. His ears were ringing and his head ached terribly. He rubbed his temple, closing his one eye.

"I should go home now." He said as he slowly got up from his chair. He felt dizzy and grabbed the fireplace mantle beside him.

"Oh, man, you're not going anywhere." Klaus laughed, supporting him by the arm. "Sleep on the couch. Tomorrow is Sunday, so you don't have to go anywhere in the morning anyway."

Normally, Aemond would have refused, but today he didn't have the strength. It was almost three in the morning, he could have ordered an Uber, but he was afraid he would puke all over the car.

"All right."

***

He was awakened from a deep sleep by the gentle clinking of plates and cups. He opened an eye but closed it immediately, blinded by the morning light from the windows. His head was bursting. He wondered what time it was. 

He made one more attempt to look ahead and saw, that Y/N was quietly bustling about in the kitchen. He could see, that her movements were slowed down, trying not to slam cupboards and putting dishes away, without making any louder noises. Her face was literally determined not to wake him. 

She glanced at him to see, if she was succeeding, and when she met his gaze, she frowned apologetically.

"Sorry, I'm so hungry." She said, as if she had to justify herself, that she wanted to have breakfast at her own home. 

"I'll be making scrambled eggs and casseroles. Will you eat with me?” She asked, her voice light and unjustified contentment.

"What time is it?" He asked instead of answering, rising to a sitting position and clutching his head. He felt like it would explode. Y/N looked at him understandingly.

"Eleventh." She said, and he just let out a heavy breath. He knew he shouldn't have had any more booze, and he wished he'd not listened to Klaus. 

Y/N started to rummage in one of the cupboards, standing on tiptoes. It caught his attention, that she herself was still in her pajamas. It was warm, so she was wearing shorts and a black T-shirt with the words "Depeche Mode" written on it. The corner of his mouth twitched up. 

Very often they played songs of this band in his club. Apparently Y/N found what she was looking for, because she turned to him and waved a box of painkillers at him. He just nodded without saying a word, and she poured water into a glass. She brought it to him along with the pills and placed it on the table in front of him.

"Thank you." He replied, reaching straight for the package. Y/N sighed sympathetically but said nothing. He appreciated it. He didn't want to listen to mothering and lecturing about the effects of drinking too much alcohol. 

Aemond got up and Y/N went back to making breakfast. He sat on the other side of the counter on the seat, so that he watched what she was doing. He had to admit, that in the chaos of her activities, he had to appreciate her resourcefulness and how she also kept the scrambled eggs from curdling and the casseroles from burning to a crisp. 

At first he didn't feel like eating, but the smells, that reached his nose, made him change his mind.

"Sorry for the trouble." He finally said, realizing that Y/N was doing him a favor. She just shrugged and laughed.

"Come on. Happens to the best ones." She said and looked at him with a smile. 

Only now, looking at her from a closer distance, he realized, that her eyes were not blue. They were blue-green, changing color slightly depending on the light. Her dark, long eyelashes, eyebrows and hair, made her eyes look even bigger. He watched her silently.

She had a soft, relaxed face. Her figure was slender and fragile, and she was quite short. The shorts showed off her long legs. He thought, that she’s pretty. He was snapped out of his thoughts by the sound of her words. "Ready!" She made the verdict, placing the food on a plate. She handed him one, which made a beeping noise. 

In the meantime, she made tea for herself and coffee for him. She didn't ask his opinion, but made it the way he liked it. Perhaps because Klaus had prepared one for him many times. It reminded him of her brother.

"Klaus won't be joining us?" He asked, trying the scrambled eggs. It was tasty, though he would have added more onions to it. Y/N looked at him. She swallowed her bite before answering.

“He said he would eat something in town. He has some errands to run at one of the stores. He asked me to take care of you." She said the last sentence with a slight amusement characteristic of her. 

It wasn't ironic, it was more of a mild annoyance. The one she usually shared with her brother. Aemond frowned at her, the corner of his mouth twitching in what might have been called a smile. Y/N noticed the nuance as she smiled even wider.

Aemond feared, that Y/N would force him to talk, but she didn't. She ate in silence, staring at a point behind him, her eyes betraying, that she was thinking about something. 

Aemond realized, that since he'd known her, Y/N had never shown any sign of reserve or fear of him. On the contrary, she was never afraid to express her opinion in front of him. She wasn't afraid of looking ridiculous in his eyes. He wouldn't be able to do it.

His image was everything to him. The lack of one eye and his blindfold created an invisible barrier around him, a wall, a vision of a cool, distant and resolute man. Also towards women, he always felt the need to be a domineering person, who could not tolerate opposition. 

On the one hand, he needed directness, on the other hand, he felt, that the women he had met so far, expected this from him. Despite the confidence, that was real, he felt tense around them even, when he slept with them.

However, now, that he was sitting with Y/N at breakfast, he felt relaxed. He knew, that even if he remained cool and distant, he wouldn't discourage her. Her behavior towards him openly told him, that she had sympathy for him, and whether he wanted it or not, he couldn't reject that.

Y/N blinked as if she remembered something. She looked at him, but in a rather unusual way. She looked like she was considering whether to ask a question, but nothing came out of her mouth. Aemond stopped eating.

"Something happened?" He asked, wondering why she was staring at him like that. 

Y/N put down her fork and thought for a moment. For someone so talkative, it took her quite a long time to put her thoughts into words. He knew she wanted to ask him something serious, and he didn't know if, after talking to Klaus yesterday, he wanted more outbursts.

"I don't want to burden you. But I have a problem." She said hesitantly, waiting for his reaction. Aemond raised his eyebrows.

"Problem?"

Y/N pursed her lips. It worried him. Her expression was desperation. He had no idea, what’s going on. She curled up in the seat and swallowed.

"Albert sends me messages." She said finally. Aemond's face hardened.

 "Texts...uh." She rolled her eyes as if she couldn't say it. She shrugged. "Well, you know. And he sends me pictures of himself. God." She sighed, burying her face in her hands, eyes squeezed shut in embarrassment. “I asked him to stop. He stops for a few days, but then it's the same again." She said dropping her hands. She didn't look at him, she was ashamed. 

“When he comes here, he doesn't seem to do anything. But when she greets and cuddles with me, she does it so that I…” She paused for a moment, her eyes turning red. Her knee began to move uncontrollably. She finally dared to look at his face. 

He could see, that she was fighting herself not to cry. He felt his heart pounding. He swallowed hard, looked ahead, and drank some of the now-cold coffee. He thought, that he wanted to kill him. A voice snapped him out of his thoughts. “I wanted to ask you… Do you think I could talk him out of it somehow. Did you notice, that I was giving him mixed signals with my… behavior or in any other way? He once wrote to me that I pretended to be a saint, but I must be quite a... slut deep down, because of how I look at him." Her voice trembled as she uttered the last sentence, and Aemond felt his jaw tighten.

"I've never noticed you giving him any signals." He said slowly, through slightly clenched teeth. 

Y/N stared at him with wide, red eyes. She was silent for a moment, then nodded and sighed. With the rest of her strength, she brought a slight smile to her face. She got up to collect their dishes. 

"Thank you." She said, taking his plate. "You've calmed me down."

"Will you tell Klaus?" He asked, looking at her intensely. "Or do I have to do it?"

She stopped, her face hardened. She didn't look at him. She moved after a moment, but no answer came out of her mouth. 

Aemond felt the blood pulsing through his veins. Her confession sobered him completely. He got up, walked around the counter, and came over to her, until they were inches apart. She turned to him, startled by his sudden movement.

"I asked you a question." He said coldly and low. 

She looked at him with her big eyes. The words stuck in her mouth. She took a step towards him. Then the second. He wondered what she wanted to do, but didn't pull away. They were so close, that their faces were practically touching.

"Klaus knows." She said despairingly. "But they have signed contracts for next year. He would pay heavy fines for abandoning them, Albert made sure of that. Klaus is afraid, that if he wants to stop working with him, Albert will file an anonymous report about his illegal transactions. There are more of them than I thought. He never told me about it before."

There was bitterness in her words. She dropped her gaze to the floor. Aemond couldn't find the right words to say.

"How long has this been going on?" He asked softly, after a moment of silence. She didn't answer right away.

"...For two months."

They stood there speechless, each looking in a different direction, lost in their own thoughts. He felt Y/N rest her forehead against his chest. She covered her face with her hands and sobbed softly. He didn't move away. 

Subconsciously, he placed a hand on her back. He stroked them with his fingertips. He placed his forehead against her hair and closed his eye. They were soft. He could smell the pleasant herbal scent of her shampoo in his nose. 

"I'll take care of it."

#aemond x you #aemond targaryen #aemond fanfiction #aemond fic #aemond x oc #aemond x y/n #aemond x fem!reader #prince aemond #ewan mitchell #aemond the kinslayer

[wannaeatramyeon]

UR WRITING IS LIKE SEROTONIN AHH MORE STUFF LIKE THE URGENT BATHHOUSE MEETING PLS🙏 it was so funny

Me, thinking everything that I say is funny: 🤣😂

Everyone else: 🧍🏻‍♀️

Don't need to read this for continuation, but Part 1 here.

SOS Men of Lookism: Urgent Bathhouse Meeting Part 2

!! Spoilers for latest arc. Massively breaking the fourth wall. Part 3

Another call for a meeting in as many months.

Samuel's lip curls as he reads the invitation. He doesn't remember the rest of the men being so needy.

Once again, they find themselves in the bathhouse.

Many absent this time, having made their peace with the storyline and their development. No obvious division to be seen, although they have naturally split into their own groups.

Still, the room is full of intimidating and powerful men naked and half merged in the water.

Sweat drips down their chiselled bodies, beads of water collect and pool in collarbones, rolling down hard pecs and sliding across cut abs.

The dampness from the vapour leaves a slick sheen on any exposed skin, highlighting scars and muscle. Hair damp, tendrils curling at the nape and locks framing their face. (Gun's 438 panel and the fan's reactions still at the forefront of most of their minds.)

Few of their usual guard and defenses are left, instead the heat of the water and the steam softens their edges, making them placid and pliant. Their voices mingle together, filling the air.

"Hey fuckos," Vin places an arm each around Hudson's and Jay's shoulder, "Do I complete the team or what. You guys are lucky to have me."

"It's nice to see you," Daniel agrees as the two blondes shrug Vin off, "Although it would be good to have Mary too,"

"True," Vin scratches his chin in thought. "Haven't see her in like 200 chapters."

"Yeah bro, when's our backstory dropping?" Taejin adds, sitting a little further away.

"Fuck OFF asshole, I'm not talking to you!" Vin throws a punch towards his former friend.

Vasco, ignoring Vin and Cheonliang's business, interrogates Jace about the status of his beloved Burn Knuckles, checking that all the welfare of his crew is ok.

"-And I like your earrings." Vasco inspects Jace's right ear.

"Thanks," Jace's hand reaches up to fiddle with his new jewellery, "It was painful, but I guess we're really going for Gun's vision with your scar and our leather jackets too."

"What about you?" Zack observes the rest of Allied with disinterest, instead seated besides Johan.

"I dunno. I really miss Eden and Miro," Johan worries his lip between his teeth, "I've been in this coma for forever."

"Shame." Samuel comments with a smirk as Jinyoung cackles next to him.

"Aish!" Sinu exclaims in frustration, "I can't believe I got arrested again. Yeonhui has been giving me grief non-stop."

"Huh? I thought it was unclear with you. Didn't you make it out?" Brad's brows knit in confusion as Jason shrugs.

"Sorry man," Jake apologises anyway, looking sheepish and scratching the back of his head.

Jerry, along with the other members of Big Deal, assures their boss that it's fine before addressing their No.6. "Lineman, looking forward to your power up."

Lineman gives them a winning grin, chest puffing with pride.

Taesoo watches a young!Gapryong wading towards him and the Kwak brothers. Their conversation stops, silence falling upon them as they notice his presence.

"Forgive my interruption," Gapryong starts, "Taesoo, please tell me how you managed to appear in so many flashbacks?"

Jichang's eyes drift over to Taesoo, "Share your secrets, Ansan."

Eli, standing bare by the showers, examines his reflection in a mirror, "I'm thinking of going blonde again."

Warren watches his friend, quickly losing interest in the conversation. "I [don't] care-"

"NO!" Goo jumps out, "There's too many blondes as it is." His fist waves in Eli's face. "I'M THE OG!"

"Put that away," Gun shoves his partner's hand roughly, "You'll find that that is Jay Hong."

"You fucking-!" Goo aims a kick in his direction, and a fight breaks out.

"So... what usually happens here?" Baek Hangyul directs to DG and Eugene, the three of them lazing in the water together.

Eugene gulps as he eyes up Hangyul's torso and abs, thinking that he should up his own workout routine.

And it's not that he is insecure with his body, but he can't help but shrink below the water a little when sitting in the middle of these two sex symbols.

"Not sure," DG says, running his fingers through his pink tresses and watching Gun and Goo squabbling at the far side of the bathhouse. "More fan service, I guess."

#lookism #lookism headcanons #lookism hc #gun park #daniel park #eli jang #lookism dg #sinu han #samuel seo #warren chae #big deal #jace park #vin jin #johan seong #zack lee #vasco #goo kim #jake kim #lookism fic #lookism fanfics #dg #baek hangyul #lookism eugene #kwak jichang #jinyoung park #hudson ahn #taesoo ma #cheon taejin #wannaeatramyeon

[campbyler]

hello!

this is a little bit random, but do the characters have any specific hairstyles you'd been envisioning for them? or any specific vibes/style when it comes to clothes?

i really like to doodle and this fic is my current brain-focus, so i was curious!

hello suni here! thea answered with some hair references for the entire party here but because i am extra as all hell, here are moodboards for mike and will’s styles (with more for the rest of the party to follow)!

acswy will is a big fan of sweaters and stripes (!!) and he looooves a good colorblock moment! i see him in a lot of earth tones (it’s easier for him to match and layer that way. he’s just like me fr) with the exception of a few choice colors (bright yellow, red, etc). to Us he’s also a shoes guy but in a very lowkey and Normal manner which is why the bowie reeboks have been in my pinterest board for camp au will for months now bc i think he sees them somewhere and then saves up for months to buy them and then immediately refuses to wear them anywhere out of fear of getting them dirty lol (also peep the byler shoes 👁️👁️) he’ll prioritize comfort over fashion a lot of the time — ergo the infamous hanes six pack of t-shirts from chapter 1 — but when it’s not one million degrees out and when he is not about to get covered in dirt, this is the look he’s going for!

to us acswy mike is also a big proponent of comfort and and practicality but he’s also a grade A dork LOL he has a thing about jackets the way will has a thing about shoes so thrift finds like his beloved leather and denim jackets are a staple for most of the year! (not summer though. obviously.) i think he would love a good crewneck + shorts moment in the spring especially (the “shorty short shorts” are literally the length of the shorts in the middle photo so idk what will was getting so worked up about 🙄) and he owns one million really stupid shirts that he wears all the time that will definitely does not find endearing. also to us mike loves collecting vintage pins so below the cut are some we think he would have been so so so excited to find:

(the whale one was admittedly a little self indulgent bc i want that pin but who cares i think he’d like it)

+ links: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8

#thanks so much for asking #aka thanks so much for finally letting me put my pinterests boards to use #gngmfmmdkekdkdkfkf <- live footage of me foaming at the mouth TJINKING OF THEMEM…. #asks #acswy reference

[augustinewrites]

welcome to hell (love and deepspace)(affectionate) <3. I can’t wait to hear your opinions of The Boys™

i've been playing a little over two weeks now and just finished chapter 8! i have so much to discuss

(i'm at affection 37 with zayne and 36 with xavier and rafayel)

1. zayne my beloved...he is my dream husband. childhood friend, cardiac surgeon, SARCASTIC DRY HUMOUR KING. kicks my ass at advanced kitty cards every round without a doubt.

- husband material: 11/10 (he could provide a comfortable life. he can cook and clean and likes to read and IS A NATURAL CARETAKER I LOVE HIM)

- mysteriousness: 5/10 (i do want to know about his secret research product in the arctic that's supposed to be connected to the myth storylines? AND WHAT WAS HE TREATING GRANNY FOR THAT HE DIDNT TELL US ABOUT? but otherwise i question who he is and what his intentions are the least)

2. xavier my sweet baby angel cake. been in love with him since his first appearance. seems like he'd be soft but hangs out in bars and wears leather jackets and IS SO FLIRTY??? WHY ARE WE ROLEPLAYING DESTINY CAFE?

- husband material: 9.5/10 (would kill for you without hesitation. absolutely devoted to you. loses .5 bcs alas he cannot cook (well) and is the beige flag husband who tells you the tea but cannot deliver the details bcs he did not ask. he was too sleepy.

- mysteriousness: 9/10 why is he here in this timeline why is he looking for a specific protocore why did his pal jeremiah almost say that is was nice to see us again?? how does he know us what is the connection and why is he helping us specifically despite the nonintervention protocol??? why does he ghost so often but is obviously keeping an eye on us??? after chapter 8 i just have so many questions

3. rafayel admittedly i did not care for him in the start. but during his nightly stroll story and especially during chapter 7 he grew on me. i see the marius in him now and that makes me love him!! he is so dramatic and funny and the interactions with him are always entertaining

husband material: 9.5/10 he's charming as fuck i'll admit! and he's rich and artsy and fights like a feral man. so much sexual tension. loses .5 bcs he is very secretive and every favour needs to be returned so far so hmmm....sus

mysteriousness: 10/10 LISTEN I KNOW THAT THE PLAN WAS FOR US TO BE BAIT BUT ??? WHAT DID HE DO??? IS HE SURE ITS GONNA WORK?? WHAT DID HE WANT AND GET IN EXCHANGE?????? IS HE LURING XAVIER (he is lumiere right?) TO THEM??? IM ON THE EDGE OF MY SEAT AWAITING CHAPTER 9 ALSO HE IS A MERMAID???

#[💌—inbox] #literally this game has sucked me in #it's so good #i suck at upgrading cards but whatever

[versatileginger]

HIDDEN | CHAPTER 1

Billy Russo x OC (Ava) 

Warnings: Not canon, violence, weapons, stalking (not MMC), murder, everything you'd find in The Punisher universe, no betrayal. 

Summary: Billy meets someone that piques his interest. Did he mention she carries a knife?

A/N: Early upload! My very first time writing.. anything lol. English is not my first language. Artwork made by yours truly. Let me know what you thought!

The morning sun crept over the horizon, casting gentle rays through the curtains, and with it, Ava's day commenced. The shrill insistence of her alarm clock echoed through the room, urging her to greet the world at 6 a.m. She cherished the early hours, finding solace in the tranquil embrace of dawn. As she stretched, her long, dark hair flowed like a cascading waterfall over her shoulders.

Dressed in cargo pants, a comfortable top, and a well-worn leather jacket, she slung her bag over her shoulder before departing from her snug apartment. It may have been a modest space, but it was her sanctuary, and she treasured the solitude it granted her in the morning.

Amidst the awakening city, with the streets slowly coming to life, Ava made her way to her beloved coffee shop. There, she ordered her customary bold dark roast with a hint of cream and settled at a table near the window. Soft morning light filtered through the glass, casting a warm glow. With her phone in hand, she began to sift through emails and the latest news, savoring these quiet moments before the storm of the workday.

Then, a man in a finely-tailored suit graced the coffee shop with his presence, effortlessly commanding attention. His chiseled jawline and piercing coal- black eyes provided a striking contrast to his impeccable attire. The man moved with a purposeful grace, his gaze sweeping the room. When their eyes briefly met, an unspoken connection formed, acknowledging that they were the sole early risers in the establishment.

"Early start, huh?" he mused, his voice carrying a note of intrigue as he settled at a nearby table.

Ava glanced up from her phone, offering a welcoming smile. "Yeah, I find it helps me focus better at work," she replied.

Billy's curiosity was piqued. "That's interesting. What is it you do then?"

Ava, opting to share a glimpse of herself first, responded, "I work in IT, starting my day early gives me the feeling of having a head start on the day."

With curiosity gleaming in her eyes, she continued, "And what about you?"

Billy smiled, appreciating her inquisitiveness. "I work over at Anvil," he said. "We're a security outfit that helps people stay safe and solve their problems. We've got a diverse team, includin' some ex-veterans who bring real-world expertise to the mix. We handle all sorts of gigs, from keeping big corporations secure to helpin' out in more low-key situations."

Ava nodded, captivated by his work and eager to learn more about him. "That sounds fascinating," she said, taking a sip of her coffee. "You enjoy doing it??"

Billy nodded, his gaze focused on her. "It has its challenges, but it's worth it," he replied.

Leaning in, Ava's curiosity was fully engaged. "That's truly admirable," she remarked, sensing his hesitation to elaborate more. "It must be a deeply rewarding job."

Billy nodded, his gaze unwavering,. "It comes with its challenges, but it's worth every moment," he replied.

Their conversation unfolded and as the coffee shop filled with the bustling sounds of other patrons Ava gracefully stood, a courteous smile gracing her lips.

"Well, it was lovely chatting with you," she said, preparing to take her leave.

Billy realized the omission and extended his hand with a friendly smile. "I'm Billy," he said.

Ava shook his hand, her smile warm and genuine. "Nice to meet you, Billy. I'm Ava."

Ava walked away from the table with a casual "See you around," leaving Billy alone with his thoughts. He continued to sip his coffee and recount their conversation, but then he saw her heading for the exit. As she pulled open the door, her top rode up a bit, and Billy caught a glimpse of something glistening.

Is that a fucking knife?'

Ava's workday was a mix of routine and challenges. As she settled into her office, surrounded by computer monitors and the soft hum of technology, she delved into her tasks. Emails poured in, demanding her attention, and she methodically sorted through them, addressing IT issues and providing support to her colleagues.

Her role in IT was diverse, and she enjoyed the ever-changing landscape of her job. Some days, it was troubleshooting technical glitches, ensuring the company's systems ran smoothly. Other days, it was collaborating with her team to implement new software solutions or security measures.

Her work brought her a sense of accomplishment, knowing that her efforts contributed to the seamless functioning of the company. Yet, amid the bustling work environment, she couldn't help but occasionally find herself lost in thoughts of her chance encounter with Billy at the coffee shop that morning. His intriguing job and friendly demeanor lingered in her mind, adding a touch of excitement to her otherwise ordinary workday.

As Ava immersed herself in her work, her coworker, Mark, approached her desk. Mark was a friendly guy with a penchant for coffee, much like Ava.

"Hey, Ava," he greeted her with a warm smile. "How's it going?"

Ava glanced up from her computer screen, returning his smile. "Morning, Mark. It's goin' well so far. Just the usual morning rush of emails and tech support."

Mark chuckled, nodding in understanding. "Tell me about it. I feel like you need a second cup of coffee already. Speaking of which, are you up for a quick coffee break later? My treat."

Ava appreciated the offer and the chance to catch up with her coworker. "Sure thing, Mark. I could use a coffee break. Let's say around 10:30?"

"Sounds perfect," Mark replied. "I'll meet you at the breakroom. Don't work too hard until then!"

As Mark walked away, Ava couldn't help but wonder how he knew she had already had a coffee. Perhaps her caffeine addiction was more obvious than she thought, or maybe it was just a lucky guess. Regardless, she looked forward to their coffee break, knowing it would be a pleasant distraction from her busy workday.

MAIN MASTERLIST HIDDEN MASTERLIST CHAPTER 3

#billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy russo fanfic #billy russo imagine #frank castle #billy russo x oc #billy russo x female oc #billy russo masterlist #versatilegingers masterlist #versatileginger writes #the punisher

[queenvidal]

The Girl Who Never Cries

Negan x Reader (Rick's Daughter)

(Not my gif - found it on pinterest. If it's urs, contact me for proper credit)

Chapter 6: Bad Blood

Chapter Summary: You have to face the punishment for your actions, but it's nothing you could have ever imagined.

Wordcount: 2288

Notes: I'm sorry for any grammar mistakes or wrong spellings, English isn't my first language. - Part 1 of the The One And Only Series - Takes place during the beginning of season 7

Chapter Index: Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 7 (End)

Masterlist / Negan x Rick's Daughter Series

“What were you thinking?” Rick's voice makes you sigh in annoyance. After Daryl brought you to your house and you took a quick shower, your father sat you down at the kitchen table. While he is overjoyed having you and the others back, in one piece even, he’s still angry about what happened at the gate.

“Dad, can you calm down for a moment?” You ask him softly.

But he continues, “They will punish you, Y/N.”

“For what?” Exasperation is clear in your tone. “For laughing?”

Rick throws his arms up in frustration. “Disobedience, Y/N! This will have consequences.”

Loud and feigned laughter escapes you. “Oh, now you are concerned about consequences?”

“That’s nothing to joke about, Y/N-” Rick tries to defend himself, but you won't let him. 

“Dad, for real now, I’ve just laughed. Admittedly at the wrong moment, fine, but so what? I haven’t touched Dwight and Mr. Mustache intervened before anything could have happened.”

Your father sighs in frustration. With his elbows resting on the table, he lays his head in his hands. He is clearly worried and it doesn’t go unnoticed by you. “I think it would be the best, if you were out with Daryl next time they come for the pick up."

You look at your father in disbelief and you say, “You can’t be serious. If anything, that would only make things worse. I made a mistake, Dad, and I will take responsibility for that.”

“But Negan-”

“Negan won’t kill me for laughing, Dad. He takes me for one if not the most useful scavenger of the community.” Or at least you hope he still does. While he had told you that much, he is still hard to read and predict, especially with how you two parted ways the last time you two spoke.

“If something happens to you, Y/N-”

“It won’t.” You assure him with your hand resting on his arm, “Promised.”

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

In retrospect, you should not have promised anything. The closer the next pickup came, the more you were on edge. All of the confidence you had a week ago dwindled as the days went by and when the all too familiar sound of the trucks settled at the gate, even the smallest rest of it went right out the window.  

With your hand still clinging to the doorknob of the infirmary, you debate whether you should quickly scurry back inside. With your heart rapidly beating against your ribcage you watch the saviors jumping out their vehicles, gathering at the gate. The last time you felt that anxious was the night at the clearing. Giving the circumstances, you might follow Glenn and Ab, somehow you have a feeling you can't really talk yourself out of this one.

Your hands start to sweat as you search the gathering crowd, Negan has yet to appear somewhere. Maybe he isn’t supervising this week's pickup. Simon had to replace him already one time for whatever reason. Maybe it’s going to be the same thing today. No, it’s just wishful thinking and you know that. He won’t miss the chance to punish Alexandria for fucking up. And just as that thought passes your mind, you spot the signature leather jacket of the saviors leader in the crowd. Negan marches through the people, his beloved bat resting against his shoulder. And he looks pissed.

Your stomach churns in response to your rising heart rate. The fight or flight instinct is screaming at you to go back inside, but you force yourself to stay your ground - you are scared but not a coward!

Some of the saviors walk up the street to the pantry, as it is just the routine by now. They eye you with knowing grins on their faces as they pass you by, feeding your anxiety. You watch them making their way, when Negan's voice roars over the place. “Y/N!”

Startled, you look back at him. He stands in the middle of the street with his head high and scowl on his face. He commands you over to him with a wave of his hand. “Get over here. Now!”

His tone of voice doesn’t leave any room for argumentation. With a deep breath, you finally let go of the door and slowly turn towards the street. Adrenaline is pumping through your veins but you try your best to hide it, forcing yourself to keep eye contact with Negan, while your feet carry you forward.

Once standing close enough and in front of the leader of the Saviors, you come to a halt. His eyes are trained on yours, Lucille casually resting in his gloved hand. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see some if not most Saviors stopping in their tracks, eager to watch the scene unfold.

Your father appears on the edge of your peripheral vision but you don’t dare to break eye contact with Negan.

“So,” he starts, his voice slightly quieter now. “Simon brought to my attention that you think orders are something you can ignore and laugh about.”

“I-

“Nope!” He cuts you off immediately and raises Lucille to point at you for a brief moment. ”No talking - you’ll listen!”

You worry the edge of your lips with your teeth, your nerves slowly getting the better of you as you endure Negan's glare.

“You know, I thought you understood the message I delivered when we first met, but maybe I was wrong, which for your sake I hope I am not.”

“No, I-”

“Cause if I am and you actually don’t give a shit about our previously so smooth working relationship, I’m gonna have you receive the message yet again. Maybe you forgot about who is in charge now.”

“I don’t query your authority or the one of your men.”

Negan narrows his eyes at you. “Yet you laughed when receiving direct orders from one of my top guys.”

“I laughed because he threatened me with a knife.” It was a pathetic attempt to scare you and shut you up. Just like the first time Dwight tried that on you, when he so miserably failed to kill you in the woods.

Negan studies your face for a moment and leans against the hood of the parked car behind him. “Thing is, I like you and it would be moronic of me to go too hard on you. After all, you did gather an insane ass load of stuff for me in the past few weeks. But I also can’t let shit like this slide, which begs the question now,” He pauses for a long moment, wetting his lips with the tip of his tongue. ”What should I do with you?”

You clasp your wet hands together, trying to at least appear calmer than you actually feel and after a quiet moment, you respond, “Whatever you see fit.”

Negan scratches his beard, deep in thought. The longer the silence streaches on, the harder your heart beats within your chest. Suddenly, Negan turns his head around and calls over his shoulder. “Hey, D!”

Your eyes snap to Dwight, who approaches you two with way too much confidence for your liking. Like one of the boys in kindergarten who tells on the other kids to gain the teacher's approval. Pathetic.

“Dwighty-Boy, what do you think?” Negan's nickname for that asshole almost makes you throw up. “I can’t go too hard on her for several reasons. But she sure as hell needs a reminder that you’re someone she has to respect.”

Dwight casts you a creepy smile. “Well, maybe not too hard on her, but she wasn’t alone.”

No! You can feel all the color drain from your face and your heart sinking into your boots.

“Right,” Negan says, his attention and eyes back at you. “You had a friend.”

“Daryl has nothing to do with this!” You reply while fighting your voice from faltering. You remind Dwight, “That’s something between you and me.”

Dwight snarls back, “He disobeyed as well.”

“Because of me!” You almost shout, anxiety tightening up the knots in your abdomen. If not for Daryl, you would have stabbed Dwight. “I was the one laughing at y-”

“He’s just as-”

BANG!

Both of you jump at the sound of Lucille hitting the car with enough force to bash a serious bulge into the metal. “Enough of this petulant fucking bullshit!” Negan's patience is running out.

“Since you two are acting like fucking kids, we’re gonna settle this like fucking kids.” Negan waves at you for you to come closer. “Y/N, you're gonna apologize to Dwight and better make it sound genuine.”

With eyebrows knit together in confusion, your eyes switch between Negan and Dwight. “What?”

“Now.” Negan urges, looking at you somewhat expectant.

Baffled by Negan’s strange idea of a solution, you turn to face Dwight, who seems to be just as unhinged. “I am sorry for the disobedience and the inappropriate laughter afterwards. It won't happen again.”

Negan turns his head towards Dwight, waiting for a response.

Dwight glances at him for a split second, before looking back at you. “Good.”

Negan pushes himself from the hood. “Now shake hands like goddamn adults, so we can move the fuck on."

You both raise your hands for a handshake, albeit the mutual aversion.

Once both of you let your hands fall back to your sides, Negan claps his hands together, his signature smile back in place. “Now that this shit’s out of the world, let's get back to business.”

You and Dwight look at each other in equal confusion as Negan swaggers away towards the pantry, whistling his usual melody.

What the hell just happened?

Dwight takes a step closer to you, his voice quiet enough to only reach your ears. “I’ll get you killed and then I'm gonna kill Daryl.”

You look back at him with narrowed eyes and with an unreasonable amount of venom in your voice you reply, ”I can’t wait to see you try.” 

Dwight just scoffs at you before he takes off, slithering back to the side of his boss like the sad worm that he is. 

The crowd around you starts to dissolve again. Taking this as your sign of finally being dismissed, you hurry past everyone to get down the street and back inside of the infirmary. 

Once the door is closed behind you, you try to calm your nerves. While trying to control your rapid breathing you walk the room up and down, counting down from ten and then again and again. 

Eventually, you sit down at your desk, with your eyes glued to the clock above the door. Time passes agonizingly slow, while your mind is running wild. After a few more minutes you slowly start to relax. 

With your notebook and old medical journals cluttered all over the surface, you consider returning to your studies. You might as well use the time instead of just waiting for the Saviors to finally leave again. 

And just on que, you hear the door opening. You hope for Rick to finally announce the Saviors departure with his usal scowl on his face.

But instead your eyes fall on a black leather jacket and you resist the urge to fall back into the chair. Somehow you figured and actually feared the show on the street was actually just a show, with the real punishment still waiting to be delivered to you. At least it’s going to be in the privacy of the infirmary and not on the street for everyone to see, preserving what’s left of your dignity.

Negan closes the door behind him, his face void of his usual smile. “Just wanted a quick chat and then you'll be rid of me.” He leans casually against the door, keeping the distance between you two.

In response, you lean forward on your desk, resting your folded arms on the surface. The absence of Lucille doesn’t go unnoticed and it strangely calms you down a little bit. But then again, Negan doesn’t need the bat to kill you, he still has his gun and a knife.

His eyes bore into yours for a long moment before he finally speaks up. “Y/N, I'm gonna be honest with you, no one and I mean no one would have gotten out of this situation as unscratched as you just did.”

You figured and you wonder what Negan's motives are to let you live. He must have ulterior motives and not knowing what he wants is freaking you out. “I am aware.”

“You better be.” He says, pushing himself from the door. “Disobedience is not tolerable, neither is disrespect."

“And I understand that but Dwight-”

“I don’t give two shits about the bad blood between you and Dwight,” He interrupts you in a harsh tone. “And I advise you to do the same.”

Negan comes to a halt in front of your desk, looking down at you with a stern expression. He leans down, resting his hands on the desk, coming closer to an almost eye level, as if he wasn’t intimidating enough already. “I think we both know, I’d not harm you. ‘Cause I’d absolutely hate to ruin this pretty face of yours.”

Despite the tense situation, you can’t stop the blush from settling on your cheeks.

“There are enough useless shits in this town who don’t go out to scavenge. I don’t want to kill your people if I don’t need to, but if you force my hand, I’ll do what I gotta do - do you understand?”

“I do.” You stare back into his hazel eyes and believe to notice them falling on your lips for a fleeting moment.

“Consider this my absolute last warning, sunshine.”

Chapter Index: Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 7 (End)

Masterlist / Negan x Rick's Daughter Series

#The Walking Dead #negan smith #negan x oc #twd negan #negan #negan x reader #negan / reader #rick grimes #carl grimes #michonne #daryl #daryl dixon #fanfiction #fanfic #ao3 #twd

[annepsilvaauthor]

Fighter Weapons — Chapter 1

Pairing(s): Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x OC (Claire Mitchell) / Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Natasha "Phoenix" Trace

Summary: An untold story. A series that shows what happened during the Top Gun of our beloved pilots of Top Gun: Maverick.

Warnings: Subtle sexual innuendos, brief language, alcohol consumption, angst, smut, fluffy.

Word Count: 4.321

Author note: I'm back, my loves, with the first chapter of this series!! ✈️❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥 As you'll see, I focused more on Phoenix in this intro. But calm down! We'll have the others soon. In this fic, there will not be only one protagonist. I will try to analyze and show you some characters. I hope you like the way I'm making this fic. Let me what you're thinking, I love to know about it.

Prologue

ᴅᴏᴡɴᴛᴏᴡɴ ʟᴇᴍᴏᴏʀᴇ, ᴄᴀ

Phoenix and Storm paid their Uber and walked down the short sandy driveway to Jerry's Bar. Phoenix was wearing her scuffed dark boots, skinny jeans, and a beige silk shirt, the top four buttons of which were undone. Her ebony hair blew in the cool night breeze, touching the tanned skin of her face highlighted by simple makeup.

"OK. What can a bar in the middle of nowhere offer us?" Storm asked before they opened the double wooden door.

Phoenix watched her bite the inside of her mouth, a typical gesture when her best friend was anxious. Storm always left the programming up to Phoenix because first, she was so excited by the variety of choices that she was unable to decide, and second, Phoenix knew how to have a good time. Storm was fully confident that they wouldn't lose the night if Phoenix was in control.

Phoenix watched the blue-bottomed flowery dress sway on her pale legs and Storm hugged her body against the cold despite wearing a leather jacket over her shoulders. She smiled. Even the wind knew Storm's anxiety level.

"I heard that the best drinks in town are sold here. And... there are lots of games." she said enthusiastically with the last part.

"You and your addiction to competition." Storm rolled her green eyes. "I just hope we don't get kicked out of that bar too."

"That was an exaggeration of the manager."

"You monopolized the pool table all night, yelled at the losers and even made a scene when the manager wanted to close the bar."

"It was too early."

"It was five in the morning!"

"Okay, okay! I assume, I may have gone a bit overboard last time." She raised her thin arms in surrender. "What can I do? I love a challenge."

"I love it too, but that's not why I go around screaming at the manager's mother for wanting the fucking cue ball back."

"Wow, I was really drunk that day. I love old ladies, I would never yell at them when I'm sober." Phoenix confessed moving her lips, but turned her gaze to her friend. "And you're judging me for what? Don't you remember that day in Florida?"

"No, I have a mouse brain. I don't remember anything after five minutes." She turned her face towards the bushes.

"You disappeared for forty-five minutes and came back dressed as a clown."

"And? You know I like good characterization."

"You stripped the clown from the fucking children's party!"

"It was not my fault. He offered me tequila on the sly. You know how I get on tequila."

"Your brother will never invite us to Clarinha's parties again." Phoenix warned holding back a laugh.

"He doesn't know what he's missing. We don't go to parties. We are the party, baby!" she called out to nothing with open arms. "Now let's bring some fun to these California people!"

Phoenix let out a laugh like she always did when she was next to Storm. Since they met during the Naval Academy, they have been inseparable. Not that they were exactly the same, but their differences complemented each other. Storm was the gale in Phoenix's sense of order and she brought stillness to Storm's overcast clouds. They were perfect opposites.

They entered the Texan-decorated bar. There were several animal heads impaled on the walls, bearskins for rugs, wooden tables, chairs, and counters. Phoenix noted the pool table in the far right, the foosball table to the side, the dart board in the back, and the racks for beer pong to the left. In the center was the dance floor with a jukebox.

"A country bar." Storm considered for a while. " I loved it!"

"I knew it."

They walked through the still not so crowded environment and took a seat at the bar, ordering the famous Kenny's Cooler and Sangria Red. They had to admit, Texas had the best drinks in the country.

"A toast." Phoenix raised the glass forward and Storm did the same. "The Top Gun."

They drank. And soon more options came to the bill. That was their last night in Lemoore. They would spend five weeks in intense training at Miramar, and as daring as they were, they were professionals and took their mission seriously. They couldn't afford to overextend themselves during training. They were called to be the elite of pilots and nothing could spoil that. They had more than reason to celebrate.

After a few liters of alcohol in their blood, Phoenix noticed a vibration in her pocket. She pulled out her cell phone and found several missed calls and messages from a Ceasar. From the notification bar, she could find out what the message's content was. He was calling her for a second round. She also read the dozens of messages she had ignored all week. They all basically asked why she didn't answer, when they could see each other again and have a dream with her.

"You have that face." Storm emphasized when they prepared the beer-pong table.

"What a face?"

"The I-have-a-man-behind-me-and-I-don't-know-how-to-be-a-scrotum-for-him-to-stop-calling-me face."

Phoenix raised an eyebrow.

"Your brow furrows and your eyes roll back." the friend finally explained. "Is that the aquarium guy again?"

"He's a dolphin trainer... and yes, it's him. Thirty times." She dropped her cell phone on the table and huffed, messing with her hair. "Why don't men understand that you just want one night and nothing else? I don't want them to give me the satisfaction of why they didn't call sooner or leave a second date up in the air. I don't want to live in this drama. I just want to fuck and leave. Period."

Phoenix didn't have time for relationship drama. Literally. She worked for fifteen days in the middle of the sea and sky and the other fifteen days were for fun and thinking about everything but work. She couldn't stand the mess that was a relationship. Feelings just got in the way of her life.

She wanted one night. A moment of pleasure. Satisfy a need. Only that. But the men she met didn't understand that. They always wanted to repeat or call a formal meeting, ask what day she returned to earth or even visit her in surprise. That was the thing she least wanted. However, that was what always happened.

"You know, I envy you. You have all these guys chasing you who worry about returning the next day, send gifts and want a second, third, fourth time." Storm confessed slowly. "The guys I sleep with aren't man enough to say goodnight when I leave the house. They simply disappear."

"You should introduce me to one of those guys."

"Phoenix, I'm serious. I want a love and I only find terror." she whimpered clearly already affected by alcohol.

"I'm serious too. Do you know what we should do? Swap partners. Everyone would be happy."

"So as to. You don't want a guy like that." she approached Phoenix and played with the tip of her nose. "I know that deep down... deep down... almost digging a well... you want a love for life. You just haven't found the one that makes your legs go wobbly yet."

"You're wrong." Phoenix hugged her side. " I want the most scrotum man that can exist!"

She shouted her order so firmly and loudly that she drew curious and astonished looks from some of the customers around her. She had two shots in a row, not caring about the crowd.

"From today on, engrave that in your mouse brain... I, Phoenix... I'm only going to have sex with a guy when I'm sure he's the biggest asshole on earth..."

"Go fuck yourself with it." Storm pulled back enough to look at her friend. "You can't go a weekend without fucking."

"This is not true! I am a...highly...controlled and...adult woman."

"I doubt it. If you don't find this scumbag today, you're going to sleep with someone else."

Phoenix released her friend at once and fixed her with her dark, intense eyes. There was a different glow about them. And Storm knew very well what it meant.

"I feel a hint of challenge."

"Actually, a whole shell." Storm held up the hand not occupied by the drink. "If today, you have sex with someone... even if it's your fucking scrotum... you'll have to wash my clothes for a whole month."

"And when I win, what will you offer me?" Phoenix asked with a victorious smile.

"I'll pay your bar tab for a month."

"Prepare the card, my friend, because the bill will arrive."

They looked at each other defiantly for a few seconds and drank each other's drinks, sealing the deal. Storm was sure Phoenix would lose, even though she hated losing a challenge. It would be an interesting night.

The two friends finally started beer-pong and Phoenix got the upper hand. She celebrated with several shots of tequila, even though the game was the exact opposite. The two ended up in the center of the dance floor, doing their best steps as they embraced and seduced each other.

"Another Red Sangria?" Phoenix asked after three songs.

Storm just kept dancing, but nodded in agreement. Phoenix walked to the bar, leaning against the counter. She could see that the room was starting to fill up. Sipping a margarita, she watched as two men dressed in costume walked through the double doors.

The first wore pointed-toe boots, blue jeans, a red flannel shirt with the top two buttons undone, and a brown hat. His full chest ripped out the buttons and the blond hair could be seen from afar. Or maybe she'd been staring too long.

The second had dark skin like milk chocolate. He wore white flats, light wash jeans, a cow print shirt and a dark brown hat. He was slightly taller, but something about the first man stirred Phoenix's body so much that she had to sit down. Maybe it was the way he played with a toothpick in his thin mouth.

"Your drinks, miss." the bartender's voice brought her out of her reverie.

Phoenix watched them chat briefly among themselves and soon they separated, each looking for her prey. She got the drinks and went back to the dance floor. She danced as wildly as possible, really having fun with her best friend, who wasn't the best dancer but was still great company. Storm wasn't shy about ridicule.

After a while, they decided to stop dancing and invest in foosball. This allowed Phoenix to notice the man flirting with almost every woman in the bar, including those accompanied. He waited for his companions to leave and went upstairs. Phoenix was shaking his head and laughing internally. Men.

Due to her long observation, Phoenix became inattentive and Storm made the final point.

"Fuck!" she shouted really irritated, which caught the attention of more people, including the Texan. "Another!"

"You're crazy, Phoenix." Her friend laughed. "You know you'll never beat me at foosball."

"We'll see."

They went on to play two more games and Phoenix grew more and more irritated at not winning one. So she insisted they go to pool.

"Is there room for two more to play?" a serious voice sounded next to them. It was him.

"Of course." Storm nodded with a silly smile.

Phoenix just gave them a discreet look and handed over the clubs. They started to play, men against women. In the first match, they did well.

"And the women slaughter the Texans!" Phoenix teased by clapping a hand on Storm's hand in greeting.

"Again." the blonde demanded with an intense look, but displaying a superb smile.

"Someone does not know how to lose." Phoenix insulted again, already arranging the balls on the table.

"I was just warming up, baby. Now things are on fire." He was looking at her so firmly that she swallowed hard. Had the night gotten warmer by any chance?

"I'm not sure about that. I only see smoke."

"You know what they say... where there's smoke, there's fire."

"Wrong." it was her turn to smile. "Sometimes it's already turned off."

Phoenix noticed his smile falter for an instant, but the intense glow in the green orbs continued to grow. She came to understand what kind of man he was and knew very well how to irritate.

They started another game, and at every point, they had a shot. Phoenix couldn't help but notice that he drank it all without spilling a drop or grimacing. He looked immune. And that was the sexiest thing she'd ever thought possible.

She also noticed his gaze light up every time she leaned over the table, after all her shirt opened a huge gap. Phoenix caught him in the act several times and he didn't seem embarrassed, on the contrary, he looked at her more directly.

"And the Texans beat the girls!" he said imitating Phoenix's tone and pointed his fingers at her as if they were a weapon. He shot, blew and put it in his pocket.

Idiot, she thought.

"The last one." she insisted.

"Who doesn't know how to lose now huh?" he teased, adjusting his hat.

"When we win, we want the hats."

Phoenix noticed his smile fade completely and it took her by surprise. They were damn decoration hats. What was so important?

"No." he replied without humor.

"Okay, so you assume we've already won."

He assumed an expression of suppressed anger, his eyes burning and she couldn't tell if it was provocation or pure anger. Maybe both.

"Messed with what you shouldn't, girl." the brunette declared with a mocking half smile.

"Best of three." The blonde demanded strongly.

Phoenix grinned. Finally she had found someone as competitive as she was. They started another game and this time there was no stealth, both Phoenix and he looked at each other with flames in their eyes. He even went so far as to offer her a shot of it. Phoenix accepted and tried to imitate his attitude, drinking everything without spilling it, but the grimace at the end was inevitable. He let out a chuckle and walked away.

"And the girls win again!" Phoenix roared and Storm howled. "The hats."

They approached them and held out their hands. The blonde clenched his jaw and sighed heavily as he handed over the hat. Phoenix thanked her mockingly and tipped his hat over her glossy black mane. She noticed that the sparkle in his eyes lit up again, as well as the mischievous smile, and she couldn't help but bite her bottom lip.

He took a step forward, standing millimeters away from her and wrapped an arm around her waist. She swallowed hard and remained in place waiting for the touch. However, this never came because he just struggled to get the glass from behind her on the pool table. He raised the drink to his lips with a mocking smile. He had tricked her, played with her senses. Damn.

Phoenix got ready to retaliate when she heard Storm yell from behind her:

"NATTY! OUR SONG!"

Storm took Phoenix by the arm and dragged her to the dance floor, where they danced madly to the sound of Spice Girls' Wannabe.

"I'll tell you what I want, what I really, really want

So tell me what you want, what you really, really want

I wanna, I wanna, I wanna, I wanna

I wanna really, really, really wanna zig-a-zig, ah"

"When we arrive in Miramar, I will prepare a basket with my clothes for you." Storm commented with a victorious smile.

"I didn't lose."

"But you will. You were practically eating each other with your eyes!"

"He's not my type."

"He's everyone's type." She crouched in the dance and went up. "Besides, he's undressing you just with his eyes. That counts."

"It doesn't count! I'm just having fun with him."

"Be careful! You can get burned."

To their surprise, the dark skinned guy joined them in the dance and practically kicked Phoenix out of Storm's side. He even danced well for a man with such long arms and legs. Phoenix watched the blonde leaning against the pool table still drinking his drink. He kept his eyes stuck on her and managed to balance that ridiculous toothpick between his teeth.

"If you wanna be my lover

You gotta get with my friends

Make it last forever

Friendship never ends

If you wanna be my lover

You have got to give

Taking is too easy, but that's the way it is"

She danced that stretch looking at him, who raised an eyebrow and threw another malicious smile. Phoenix danced strangely to where he was and tried to pull him to the dance floor, but he refused.

"A Texan who can't dance... this one is new." she insulted, leaning on the table also next to him.

"Not wanting and not knowing how to dance are two different things."

"Bullshit. You don't know how to dance." she said and resumed her abandoned drink there.

While she was drinking, she watched him approach, but a group of friends appeared in front of her and asked if they could play. They accepted and played along with them. Phoenix and the mysterious blonde, who made no effort to say his name, teamed up and beat the pairs of friends one by one. The friends left there devastated.

Phoenix noticed that the blonde stretched his hand on her back, sliding his fingers into the back pocket of her pants. She immediately felt a hot shiver and a hook between her legs with that.

"Wrong place, cowboy." She complained by removing his hand from there.

"You're right." He held both hands around her on the table, without touching her. "I should have put it further ahead."

She laughed in debauchery.

"Let's see if your aim is better in the darts than in the bar."

She let out that comment and walked away from him, walking to the dart board and being aware that he watched her walk. Five seconds later he was after her.

"Have you been watching me?" he asked with a convinced smile.

"I'm just saying that you chose the wrong target today. To insist."

Phoenix threw a dart, but it didn't hit the red dot in the center. The blonde threw three in a row and hit them all. He smiled arrogantly and Phoenix rolled her eyes. That was already starting to irritate.

"OK. You've already proven that you're good."

"Yes, I'm good. I'm too good to be true."

"Wow. What self-esteem." She joked. "But who's in your hat?"

She watched his expression fall gradually and smiled victoriously. So, she decided to end her fun with him there. She felt a little too involved with the situation and a little altered by alcohol. She could get burned.

However, her departure was prevented by a hand on hers. Her whole body reacted to it as if she were in the sky, flying. The adrenaline rushing through her veins. He put her in front of the target and a dart in her hand. He guided her hand with his up as he glued to the back of her body. She felt the firmness of that breastplate and thighs.

"Keep your body firm and your gaze fixed." He ordered with his lips glued to her ear and a finger under her chin. His breath was hot and alcoholic. Phoenix used all her strength not to sigh.

"Is this how you leave them jaw-dropping?"

"It's not my fault if my charm attracts them easily."

"Do you think you're attracting me?"

" Since the moment I entered this bar."

Phoenix didn't have much time to think about what he said, as he guided his movement and soon the dart was in the center of the target. She smiled for getting it right feeling the hot breath take all over her ear. He took that piece of skin for himself and held her tightly by the belly. Phoenix couldn't hold back a gasp.

"Are you feeling it?" he asked dropping kisses to her cheek.

"No... that has no effect on me." she said trying not to tremble.

He trailed kisses down her neck and nape, squeezing her belly with his huge hand. Phoenix felt her whole body burn. Her vision blurred with the desire and heat of that touch. He was good, very good.

She leaned into his chest as he deepened his kisses into her neck. It was impossible not to bite the lips to keep from moaning. That was going too far. She was burning up and it felt so good. But she couldn't go on. She wasn't going to lose the bet.

"No." She pulled away from him in a start.

"Why not?" he asked with livid eyes in desire and hoarse voice. How hot was that man!

"You're not...asshole enough." Phoenix looked for the wall to lean on.

"What?"

He approached her keeping a curious eye on her, but Phoenix held up a hand urging him to step away from her. He obeyed.

"I've slept with enough men to know that you don't understand a woman who just wants to have fun. You always want..."

"Call the next day, ask for a second round or a meeting." he added to her surprise. "What is the problem with women understanding that we only want one night?"

She considered those words for a moment. He understood her. In fact, he was the male gaze in that theory. He just wanted one night and nothing more. However, she had already dated men like that and in the end they did the same thing as the others.

"You're bluffing. I've heard that speech before." she emphasized almost becoming part of the wall.

"Once, I went out with a woman I met at a wedding on the ship. We fucked a lot for one night. The other day, I picked up her sister."

"Disgusting."

"Another time, I fucked a flight attendant and found her on another flight."

"Got you!" she pointed at him. "You got involved."

"No. I picked up her friend and she saw us in the bathroom." he smiled with pride. "I don't fuck twice with the same woman."

"If this is all true, you must be the most scrotum man that exists on this earth."

"Which puts me on your list."

He approached her again with slow steps, asking for silent permission that Phoenix said nothing. He was now inches from her. Phoenix watched the smug smile with the toothpick and the eyes half-dropped with alcohol and desire.

He was certainly what she was looking for and he still came with a prepotent beauty to make her angry. She felt the rage inside her that she was giving in to the charms of someone like him. But she felt even more angry for making that stupid bet.

"I can't."

"But you want." he said with the same arrogance as before.

"Your ego must be the size of Everest."

"I just know that you want the same as me."

"Perhaps. Maybe I just want to taste it." She stared at his thin lips. He laughed.

"The problem is…" He wrapped his arms around her and whispered in her ear. "If I kiss you, I'm not sure I'll be able to stop."

Phoenix felt a frenzy throughout her body accompanied by an unnatural heat. That man was getting her serious in every way. And she wondered if it really would be that bad to wash Storm's clothes for a month.

Suddenly, Phoenix realized something that left her mesmerized and frustrated at the same time. In the depths of those beautiful green eyes, which looked at her in lust, there was a gleam of tenderness. He wasn't everything he said he was.

"I am really sorry. You aren't the man I'm looking for."

She watched his expression turn back to one of confusion as she handed the hat back to him. Phoenix let out a weak smile and plucked that damn toothpick from him, putting it in her own mouth.

"And I really hate losing."

Phoenix started to walk away from him, aware that she was being watched and heard the deep voice again:

"Can I at least know your name?"

"That's a lot of information for just one night!" she replied, still on her back with a smile.

Phoenix managed to convince Storm to let go of the brunette and leave the bar with her. Once outside, her friend commented in surprise:

"You really did it. You're not going home with any guy"

"Of course I did." she replied with a sigh.

"Why aren't you throwing it in my face that I'm going to be indebted?"

"I chose a bad day to accept this bet."

"Ho, ho, ho..." She laughed mockingly. "I knew! He's your guy."

"Not exactly. He has kind eyes."

"If he's not your guy, then why are you so frustrated?"

"I don't know." she whimpered. "A part of me wanted to believe he was. At least I would have a valid reason to fuck him."

"I meant it. He's everybody's type."

"Whatever. It doesn't matter anymore. I will never see him again."

They called an Uber and went home satisfied with the night of fun before the training period. They had more things to focus on besides sexual contact. Phoenix would never see that blonde with the smug smile and tender eyes again. And, in a way, she was relieved because she felt he might be the first man to access a side of her that she'd never shown anyone. It was better for the two of them never to meet again.

What an irony of fate, after all.

#monica barbaro #hangman x phoenix #hannix drabble #glen powell #top gun phoenix #hangman top gun #bradley bradshaw x oc #top gun maverick

[choppedupnotkilled]

Intro post

Hey :) I'm Micah (he/him), and I am extremely normal about Little Shop of Horrors 1986 (no I'm not). I will use this blog to post headcanons/AUs/fanfics/other original content for it. There is... a disturbingly large amount that I could post (my Google Docs document entitled "Little Shop AUs, Headcanons, Analysis, Memes, Original Works, and Audrey Appreciation" currently has 200,000+ words, not all of them written by me because I used the original script of the movie as a base when I rewrote it and didn't remove every single word of it but still). I am also on fanfiction.net (https://fanfiction.net/u/8704622/ChoppedUpNotKilled), AO3 (https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChoppedUpNotKilled), and Reddit (https://www.reddit.com/user/ChoppedUpNotKilled).

I have a full rewrite of Little Shop of Horrors entitled The Autopsy of Seymour Krelborn/The Vivisection of Audrey Fulquard that will hopefully eventually see the light of day as a black box theatre play. It makes Seymour and Audrey T4T (but explicitly this time), and, very broadly, their character arcs in it can be compared to those of Othello and Edna Pontellier respectively. I might post about it on here a little bit while being very cautious about first publishing rights and all that.

The posts I made myself can be found under #personal post.

(A transhet flag colorpicked from Audrey by color-picked-pride-flags)

(Queer headcanon icons by shipicons)

Multi-chapter Little Shop AUs that I will write and post on fanfiction.net and AO3 at some point, roughly in order but I might deviate from this, I welcome any asks about them or any of the other stuff I've written:

Seymour gets Kafkad into Twoey AU, also known as Flora Man, has been completed and can be found here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/51123991/chapters/129168787

Audrey x Anybodys AU, also known as West Side of Horrors, has been completed and can be found here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/52251097/chapters/132173383

Parasitic!Twoey AU, also known as Ethical Consumption, has been completed and can be found here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/53485357/chapters/135378976

Little Shop of Horrors Warrior Cats MAP (multi-animator project) scripts, have all been completed and can be found here: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/14287203/1/Little-Shop-and-Warrior-Cats-MAP-Multi-Animator-Project-Scripts

MILF!Audrey AU (the title is a joke, the AU is actually serious, basically Audrey is 59 and Seymour is 27, I have several reasons for doing this but the main ones are that this way she has lived through the buildup to her beloved 50s such as the world wars/Spanish flu/Great Depression etc and had to watch the middle class get to go on to seemingly bigger and better things after that and hear about how the US is now known for being incredibly prosperous and 'being defined by having too much instead of too little' while she's still stuck in poverty as she always was and that this way she is watching the light leave her love's eyes in basically the same way that it did hers, I have several more reasons but they're also in one of the posts in my queue so they'll be on here eventually in addition to the fanfic when I eventually get around to writing it)

Streetlightcrossed Lovers AU (I need to do some research on how infections work to get this right, basically the audience knows from the very beginning that Audrey is gonna die from an infection in her wounds from Twoey in about 24 hours and we're just watching her and Seymour vibe in a hotel room together while learning more about them and their relationship, they don't know obviously so that makes it fun)

Selkie!Audrey AU (I have a lot planned out for this, some fun details are that Twoey is an Ambulocetus and Orin wears Audrey's skin and fur like Cruella de Vil instead of a leather jacket, that sound so horrifying outside of the context of what selkies are and it's still pretty horrifying in that context honestly)

Politician!Orin AU (Orin's mom encouraged him to get out his urges through being a politician instead of a dentist, and now he is the mayor of New York City through the power of nepotism, Audrey is one of his side pieces, and she's not having a good time, especially considering that he's blackmailing her into this with her past at The Gutter)

#proship #proshipper safe #lsoh #little shop of horrors #intro post #personal post #lsoh au

[queenclaudiabrown]

Living Legend | Chapter Four: Questions and Answers

Content warnings: canon events within the media covered in this chapter, uncensored cussing, canon triggers of all media covered and referenced Media: Moon Knight Season 1 Episode 2 “Summon The Suit”; reference to Primeval Series 3 Episode 1 Word count: 6,939

     Sarah woke up sore and stiff in her bed the next morning, in the exact same position she’d fallen asleep in.  After crying her eyes dry, she’d taken the briefest of cursory showers and gone straight to bed.

     She pried herself off the mattress and made a light breakfast, still queasy from the night before.  After forcing it down, she applied enough makeup to mask her exhaustion and dressed in a white blouse, knit vest, jeans, boots, and her beloved caramel leather jacket.  Her feet felt like lead as she biked away from her flat.

     She was late arriving at the museum, and strangely enough she felt that she didn’t care.  Black and yellow striped tape blocked off the Egyptian section- and the destroyed loo- from public access.  Feigning ignorance, she strolled as nonchalantly as possible up to one of the security guards- mercifully, not the same one that had helped Arthur Harrow corner Steven yesterday.  “What happened?  Was there a robbery?”

     “We’re not sure yet.”  He told her.  “One of the toilets got pretty wrecked- some pipes burst and it was really bloody bad, or so I’m told.  But a bunch of the Egypt exhibit is screwed up too- like somebody ran around shoving things over or something.  And the hallway between it and the toilet is a mess too, racks knocked over and stuff.”

     “Weird.”  Said Sarah with false casualness.  “Hope they find out what happened.”  She quickly moved away, turning her head as she scanned for Steven/the mummy dude or Harrow.  To her relief, she spotted the former across the way, and they hurried toward each other.

     He threw his arms around her immediately.  “Thank God you’re okay.”  He said, voice muffled.  “I woke up alone in my flat and I didn’t know if you’d made it out alright.”

     Okay, so Steven definitely wasn’t secretly a superpowered American with a magic mummy suit and glowing eyes.  “I’m fine.  I met him- the other bloke.  He saved us and sent me home.”

     He pulled back and nodded, then scanned her with his eyes.  “Are you hurt?  Did anything happen?”

     She shook her head.  “Scratches at the worst.  He took care of the jackal pretty quickly.  I sort of just… hid under the sink.”  She averted her gaze, directing it to her hands as she picked at a hangnail.  “I hope it’s not cowardly to say that.  I didn’t have anything to defend myself with, and I thought that if I tried to fight it I could get torn into pieces by a monster I can't see.”

     “It’s not cowardly, Sarah.  For what it’s worth, I’m glad you didn’t try to fight it.  If you had died- if you’d been killed by something sent after me- Sarah, I never would’ve forgiven myself.”

     Her eyes watered.  “It wouldn’t have been your fault, Steven, but I appreciate the sentiment.”

     Worry flooded his face again.  “Sarah, I watched the security tape.  The jackal’s not on it.  It’s just us running around looking like bloody lunatics.  And then there’s me carrying you out, but I’ve got this really mean look on my face.”

     “He insisted on carrying me so I wouldn’t get in trouble for wrecking the toilet.”  Sarah revealed.  “I mean, I couldn’t see the jackal, so I guess it makes sense that the cameras couldn’t either.  But why could you?  And why could he- whoever he is- see it and kill it so easily?  It doesn’t make any sense.”

     “Yeah, well, unfortunately I haven’t got a bloody clue myself either.  Just ’cause I could see the bloody thing doesn’t mean I know why I could, or what it was.”

     “But we know who sent it.”  Sarah reminded darkly.  “Arthur fucking Harrow.  Whatever shit he’s spreading about his and/or Ammit’s version of a good person is exactly that- shit.  A good person wouldn’t unleash an invisible magic hell jackal on two innocent people who may or may not have a random scarab.  Not that I want to talk to him personally, or have him be anywhere near you again, but he could’ve asked in person for us to hand it over.  Instead he went straight to murder.”

     “It did seem like a bit much.”  Steven agreed in his Steven way.

     At that moment, another one of the security guards- Kat, Sarah thought her name was- approached them and informed them that the museum director wanted to see them both in his office.  She wished them luck before dashing off to stop a human tower of unattended small children from scaling a display.

     A haze of stress and memory descended on Sarah, and she walked and sat robotically.  She didn’t snap back into the present until the museum director set two plain white mugs of steaming coffee on his desk.  “I should tell you the museum has no wish to press charges.”

     “Okay.”  Steven replied jitterily, quickly taking a mug.  After a moment, he offered it to Sarah, who took it with a tiny twitching smile of gratitude.  He returned it, taking the other cup for himself.

     “But, Mr. Grant, Ms. Page-”

     “-‘Doctor Page’-” she corrected lowly, a habit she’d formed over the years since receiving the title.  For a moment, she remembered when she had corrected Lester upon their first meeting, but shook her head to banish it.

     “-Dr. Page,” the man corrected himself annoyedly, “we’ve spoken to your colleagues.”

     “Yeah?”  Steven’s nerves were almost tangible, infecting Sarah with a stress more heightened than the one already threatening to empty her stomach.

     “It’s all been a bit of a struggle for you recently, hey, Mr. Grant?”  The man continued, sitting down into his chair.  Sarah wasn’t even the one he was speaking to, but her jaw clenched at the painfully ‘sympathetic’ tone of his voice.

     Steven didn’t seem to notice how truly condescending it was, dropping his head with something akin to a sigh.  “Yeah.”  He admitted, sounding ashamed and close to tears.  Sarah wanted to throttle the man behind the desk.  “A bit, a bit.”

     “This particular group of doctors has a long-standing relationship with us.”  She man continued, and Sarah drew in a deep breath and let it out through her nose to calm herself.  It didn’t work, so she obnoxiously slurped her coffee instead, glaring at him over the rim.  The beverage tasted awful- the creamer was probably either gone off or some artificial non-dairy substitute, and there was next to no sugar in it.  The roast itself tasted cheap and almost stale.

     “Doctors?”  Steven questioned.  The man slid a pamphlet across the glass top of the desk, and Steven nodded as he understood.  “Oh.”  He reached out and picked it up.

     “They’re wonderful.”  The man continued.

     “Yeah?”  Steven’s voice was timid but hopeful, and Sarah’s murderous desires surged.  He didn’t deserve this.

     “I could arrange an appointment.”

     “Okay, yeah.”  Steven was nodding.  “It looks… it actually looks quite posh.”  He chuckled.  “Looks like they’re very good listeners, right?”  He opened up the brochure and showed Sarah one of the artfully-structured ‘inviting’ pictures of an employee supposedly offering advice and a sympathetic ear, then held it up for the man to see.

     “They really are.”  The man agreed.  “I know this is classic HR to say, but… but you’re not alone.”

     Sarah was sure the man had good intentions, but his demeanor made her skin crawl.  Not in a creepy way, but in that condescending, patronizing way she was so sick of receiving.

     “Yeah?  That’s like, part of the problem, innit?”  Steven took a drink of his coffee as the self-spiteful words left his lips.

     “Before you leave us, I’m sorry for the protocol of it, but… any museum property on your person?”

     “No, I-I haven’t nicked anything, I swear.  I…”  He set down his coffee mug to rifle through his pockets, briefly producing a small folding mobile and a square-tagged key before tucking them away again.  “No, nothing.”

     The man cleared his throat and indicated, and Steven looked down at his nametag on the left breast pocket of his jacket.  “Yeah.”  Steven forced out after a moment, and Sarah could see how he struggled with losing literally every piece of something he’d worked so hard for and loved so much.  He took off the tag, glanced down at it in his hands for a moment, and set it on the desk.

     “Thank you, Mr. Grant, that will be all.  You, Miss Page, are not being terminated.  We’ve reviewed the security footage, and we’ve decided that although you were part of the incident, you weren’t the main culprit of the incident, and therefore you will also not be penalized in any way.”

     For a moment, her heart jumped.  She loved working Museum, and being in such a familiar place was almost like she hadn’t been torn out of her old life and universe and injected into this one.  She could stay, without having to fight for it.

     But in the few seconds that she straightened eagerly in her chair, lowering the cup from her lips, she made her decision.

     “Actually, I’m quitting.”  She declared, eyes hard and cutting as she glared at the man behind the desk.  “I don’t want to work in a place that bullies and shames someone into feeling like he’s less than everybody else.”  She chugged the rest of her coffee- gross as it was, she was going to need it- and reached up to unclip her own nametag from the white blouse she wore.  She slammed it down on the desk, a tiny bitter part of her hoping it left a scratch on the glass top, and shoved to her feet.  Linking her arm through a bewildered Steven’s, she marched for the door, tossing one last sharp-tongued remark over her shoulder:

     “And it’s Doctor Page.”

     Ten minutes later, what little they both owned that had been left at the museum was collected, and they had left the museum for the last time.  Sarah was too angry to feel sad about it.

     And now they were sitting on the edge of a fountain next to the living statue of a man Steven called Crowley.  He was wearing a suit and monocle, pained gold with one arm outstretched.  Blue eyes, nearly the same shade as Nick Cutter’s, were the only exterior sign that he was a living human and not an incredibly realistic art piece.

     “Well, that’s it.  I got the sack.  I don’t blame ’em- I’m a vandal, I should’ve been arrested.”

     “You’re not a vandal.”  Sarah sneered- not at him, at the museum HR, at the chaos and injustice of it all.  “You- him- whatever- saved both our lives, killing that… that thing, whatever it was.  So what if you smashed up the sinks to do it?  They can well afford to repair everything, with how much they make and how little they pay- paid- us.”

     “I did- I did find things, hidden in my flat, I swear.  I’m not joking.”  Steven continued, still worked up over everything.  He tilted his head, staring intently at Crowley.  “That’s worth exploring, isn’t it?  Like if I could find that storage locker, that might be my one chance to prove to myself that I’m not… mad.”  His voice had changed, going from frustrated to hopeful.  “Oh, mate, thank you.”  Abruptly, he leaned forward and hugged Crowley, who startled and blinked at the unexpected physical contact.  “Thanks, cheers.”  Steven patted him on the back before standing up.

     He was striding off before Sarah could blink, and she scrambled to pull a pair of tenners out of her wallet to drop into the gold-painted man’s hat.  “Sorry about him, keep up the good work.”  She rushed out before hurrying after her friend.

     Steven produced the key from his pocket again, staring down at the maroon plastic intently.  Reaching his side, Sarah peeked at it around his arm.  “Do you recognize the logo?”  She asked.

     “Hmm?  No, I don’t, but I reckon if I walk around enough I’ll find it somewhere.  Wonder what the ‘J’ stands for.”

     Sarah mentally groaned at the thought of the two of them traversing every street in the greater London area looking for this symbol.  That was if it was even in London and not somewhere else.  But she didn’t voice those thoughts.  “We’ll find it twice as quick if we split up.  Let me take a picture of that, and we’ll split up.  If I find it, I’ll ring you, yeah?”

     “You’d do that for me?”  Steven looked at her in wonder, and her heart melted.

     “Of course, Steven.  You’re my friend.”

     Thirty minutes later, Steven rang her, excitedly telling her he’d found the place.  She asked him to wait outside, then ran down the sidewalks until she reached the address he’d given her.  Soon enough, they were together again, and Sarah controlled her breathing and smoothed her hair as they walked into the building.

     It wasn’t the right one, irritatingly, and they tried four more before they had any luck.

     “Hiya.  You alright?”  Steven greeted the receptionist (if that was the word).

     “Yeah.”

     “Yeah, um, look, man, this is like, the fifth branch we’ve been to.”  He began.  “I’m looking for my storage locker.  It’s under ‘Steven Grant’.  If it’s not under ‘Steven Grant’, it might be under ‘Marc’… I don’t have a surname, just ‘Marc’.  Would you have a look for me, if that’s alright?  I know it sounds-”

     “Of course.”  The man cut him off, not rudely.  “I know you.  Number 43, right?  I never forget a face.”

     Sarah and Steven exchanged looks.  “Must be it, then.”

     The man led them to #43, down corridors formed from the corrugated steel sides of the surrounding lockers.  Fluorescent lights came on overhead noisily as they entered their corresponding sections, bathing them in an odd greenish color.  After unlocking and removing the padlock, the man left them, and Steven pulled the door open.

     They stepped inside, Sarah finding a lightswitch and flicking it on.  The door shut behind them as that same color flooded her vision, the light illuminating the contents of the room.  Several rugged-looking plastic storage bins were stacked in places, a few others alone scattered about.  A rack of shoes and other items stood beside the door, with what looked like some sort of pop-up clothes rack on another wall, a few shirts and pairs of trousers occupying its bar.  A single military or camping cot had been set up, with a pillow on one end and a neatly-folded blanket or two on the other.  Becker would’ve been all over it in a second, Sarah was sure.

     “Whoa.”  Sarah breathed.  “Whoever the other bloke in your head is, he’s… blimey, I don’t even know what.”

     Steven didn’t reply, slowly walking deeper into the room.  He eventually crouched beside the cot, opening the military shoulder bag set atop a couple storage bins next to it.  Sarah came up behind him, observing over his shoulder.

     “Oh my God.”  Steven said upon seeing the topmost of its contents- a shiny silver handgun with a black grip.  He picked it up by the end of the grip, looking more weary than wary.  He deposited it on the cot, and Sarah eyed it for a moment, wondering why Marc had it.  It wasn’t common for Brits to have guns unless they were military or police, but Marc was American- sounded it, anyway.

     Steven delved deeper into the bag, producing several thick wads of foreign banknotes belonging to multiple currencies.  He let go of them in favor of a passport, opening it to find Steven’s face on the American interior.  “‘Marc Spector’.”  Sarah read the name attached to the picture.  Well, now they had a surname.

     Steven sighed and put the passport down.  He moved a map out of his way, fishing something out from underneath it.  “No way.”  He breathed, producing… a golden metal Egyptian scarab?  “It’s real, it’s totally real.”  He touched it with his other hand, and two small but intricate wings popped out of its sides.

     “This is what was in your pocket in the Alps?”  Sarah asked, eyes tracing over every line of the object in awe.

     Before Steven could answer, the scarab started flying, lifting off of his hand and leaving a small, flat piece behind.  Sarah straightened, stepping backward away from it as it largely hovered a few inches above Steven’s palm.  “Whoa.”  He breathed, slowly getting to his feet.  “I’d say you’re a compass, but you’re not pointing north.”  He remarked, more or less following it as it moved.

     “South, I’d say.”  Sarah agreed.  “Southeast?”

     Abruptly, Steven’s posture changed, and the scarab dropped back into his hand.  Sarah frowned.  “What is it?”

     “Marc?”

     She drew in a breath, glancing between Steven and his blurry reflection on one of the room’s walls.  “Is he talking to you again?”

     Steven nodded.  “There he is, here he comes.”  He waved at his reflection.  “Hello, man in the mirror.  I was wondering if you’d pop up again.”

     “Me too.  I’ve got some questions for him.”  Sarah stated, crossing her arms and glaring at the wall.

     “A bit, yeah.”  Steven replied to something Marc had apparently said.  A moment later, he gestured about to room.  “No?  Well, a bit late for that innit?  So what, what- am I, like, meant to be some sort of mad secret agent or something?”

     Sarah had seen some strange things in her time… prehistoric creatures mistaken for pagan gods… time portals… monsters from the future… mad scientists… clones.  She doubted the truth behind Steven and Marc would be much madder than that.

     “More complicated?!”  Steven suddenly demanded.  “What, am I possessed?  Are you like, a- a demon?  Or-”

     He cut himself off, or maybe Marc did, and Sarah’s eyes flicked between the two versions of her friend- though to her perception his mirrored image was merely that- as she waited for answers with bated breath.  After a few moments, Steven glanced over his shoulder at the cot, then looked back at the wall.  “Are you joking?”  He spluttered.  “Sleep- I’m never gonna got to sleep again!  You hear me?!  Look, I don’t care how bloody handsome you are-” Sarah snorted at the sheer insanity of that comment “-tell me what it is you are.  What are you?”

     Steven’s voice was rising, and it scared Sarah.  Not because he was frightening, but because nothing worked up Steven Grant enough to make him raise his voice, and now his reflection was freaking him out more than literally having his life threatened had seemed to.

     “Yes, bloody- yes.”  All was silent for a few moments, but the next word out of Steven’s mouth made Sarah’s blood run cold.  “Khonshu?”  A moment later, he followed it up with “The Egyptian god of the moon?”

     “Great, first we’ve got Ammit, now Khonshu as well.  Steven, please tell me there’s not a freaky cult of Khonshu out there like Harrow and Ammit’s thing and you- Marc, whatever- are part of it.”

     “Oh my God, that’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”  Steven suddenly said, turning his back to his reflection.  Sarah’s coal-black eyebrows shot up.  “Not you, Sarah, him, what he said.”

     “Well, what did he say?  I’m only getting your half of this bizarre conversation.”

     “Erm- well, he says that he’s Khonshu’s Avatar, or something, and he, like, protects the vulnerable and delivers Khonshu’s justice to those that hurt them.”  He scoffed, clearly not believing it.  “I eat one piece of steak, and then bam, I go bonkers.”

     Sarah frowned, considering, as Steven sat down on the cot.  She thought back to that awful night six months ago- Marc clad in the grey super-mummy outfit, a metallic crescent moon on his chest matching the one he’d killed the predator with.  Marc, or whatever his name really was, carrying her bleeding form to a hospital.

     “Wait… Steven, he might have a point.”

     “What?!  Sarah, you can’t possibly be buying into this- this rubbish.”

     “Maybe it’s not rubbish.”  She replied, meeting his eyes.  “Steven, six months ago, I was living in another universe, and the year 2009.  Something awful happened to me- this horrible creature that had to do with my work nearly killed me, and I crawled through a portal and wound up in a bloody alleyway here in London in the middle of night.  I was hurt, and it was going to kill me.  But then Marc showed up- you know, in the outfit, all mummy-ish and stuff.  He saved my life and killed the creature, and he brought me to the hospital.  He never told me his name, but his voice- it’s the same voice you were speaking with last night when that suit popped out of nowhere in the loo and you killed the jackal.”  Sarah took a breath, struggling to wrap her head around it all.  “Mythologically, Khonshu is called upon to protect people from wild animals, or to help heal people and cattle.  That night, I was vulnerable, and he saved me and killed that thing with some sort of crescent moon… throwing star… thing.  Steven… it makes sense.  It all adds up- the mythology, what he just told me, him saving me that night.”

     Steven tore his gaze from hers and redirected it to the pistol beside him.  “You want my body?”  He demanded.  “Right, yeah.  Marc, how about this for a deal?”  He shoved to his feet and grabbed the bag he’d found the scarab and gun in.  “I’m gonna take this bag full of illegal shit, yeah, and I’m gonna go straight to the authorities, and I’ll tell them I threatened Sarah into helping me if they go after her, and they’re gonna put me away so I don’t hurt anyone else, and hopefully NHS will fill me with enough pills so that you get out of my head!”

     As he had rambled this incredibly ridiculous plan, he zipped up the bag and began backing toward the door, and the overhead lights began flickering again.  “Steven!”  Sarah called, chasing after him.  She paused, then darted back to grab the gun and tuck it into the waistband of her trousers, concealed by her leather jacket.  “Steven, stay with me!”

     Steven slammed the storage locker door and the flickering stopped.  Down the hall from them, a light went out, and then one came on on their opposite side.  “Steven, I don’t like this, what if it’s Harrow again?”  Sarah worried.  “What if there’s another jackal?”

     God, she’d do anything for an anomaly to be the problem right now, even if it spat her back into the exact hellhole she’d crawled out of six months ago.

     The second light began going on and off rapidly, its speed ominously ever increasing.  “Oh God, oh God.”  Steven muttered under his breath as the lights began switching on and off as if illuminating something moving rapidly toward them.  Suddenly, Steven screamed and bolted in the opposite direction, pulling Sarah after him with a yank on her arm.  The lights were flickering and flashing, and all around them the storage lockers were shaking.  “Is it another jackal?”  Sarah panted out, right on his heels.

     “It’s Birdy again!”  He replied in terror, confusing her for a moment before she remembered what he’d told her about the looming person with the giant bird skull head in the lift of his flat building.  With this new context, Sarah realized that since he was apparently sharing a body with Khonshu’s Avatar (if this story was to be believed, which Sarah was starting to), he was probably seeing Khonshu in some form or other.

     They began hooking corners, Steven looking over his shoulder repeatedly and still shouting and screaming.  Turning yet another corner, Steven came to an abrupt halt, and Sarah skidded into his back, both of them unbalancing but somehow managing to stay upright.  “What?”  Sarah hissed.  Steven didn’t reply, staring up toward the ceiling in terror.  After a moment, she chanced: “Khonshu?”

     Steven screamed again as a storage locker’s door banged open behind them, and Sarah grabbed at the collar of his jacket and yanked him backward.  Spurred into motion again, Steven took off running once more, and the two finally escaped the maze and came into the brightly-daylit exterior sections of the building that the storage facility shared.  Steven careened into the street, tripped and fell, and flung his arms up to shield his head as a motorcyclist screeched to a stop less than a foot away.  Sarah stopped at his feet, hurriedly squatting with the intention to get him upright again.

     The motorcyclist leaned over and peered down at Steven.  “Marc?”  She questioned with an American accent.  “Where have you been?”  Her gaze traveled to Sarah.  “And who’s this?”

     Steven looked up at the woman cautiously.  “Layla?”

     Sarah raised her eyebrows.  “This is Layla?”

     ‘Layla’ cocked her head.  “Yep.  And I still don’t know who you are.”

     Sarah opened her mouth to answer, but stopped herself.  “We’re kind of being chased right now- second time in twenty-four hours, might I add, getting real sick of this- so if you don’t mind, can we save the introductions and explanations for when we’re not possibly about to die?”

     Layla eyed her for a moment, then gave a half-shrug and canted her head.  “Alright.  But I definitely can’t take you both on this.”  She indicated the motorbike she was riding.

     Sarah nodded.  “Right, well, I can take the bus, since you two seem to know each other.”  She wasn’t sure how much Steven and Layla had spoken on what was apparently Marc’s phone, but she knew that they had talked, and Steven knew Layla enough to recognize her.  “We’ll meet up at your flat, and I’ll take the bus, yeah?”  She pulled Steven to his feet.

     “Right, yeah, cheers, I’ll… sounds good.”

     Layla thrust a second motorcycle helmet into Steven’s chest, and Sarah nodded her head in a decisive farewell before she turned and sprinted down the street the way Layla had come.  As soon as she could, she climbed up onto the outside of a double-decker bus and rode holding its rail until they reached a street near their flats, and from there she walked.  Well, jogged.

     Sarah got there before Steven and Layla, and she paced nervously for a few minutes before resolving to make herself a cup of tea.  Steven wouldn’t mind, and she made a mental note to buy him an extra box of it even though she hadn’t taken the last teabag.

     She was sipping the hot beverage and leaning up against his kitchen counter when the door opened, Steven leading Layla through.  Seeing Sarah, his nervous expression relaxed slightly.  “Oh good, you’re here.  You make it alright?”

     Sarah nodded.  “No trouble on my end.  You?”  She asked, watching Layla- who she could now see was both really pretty and not white now that the helmet was gone and her eyes had adjusted and they weren’t in a tense situation- as she slowly meandered into the flat.

     “No, no, we were good.”

     Layla bent down to look at Gus the goldfish, tapping on the glass as she observed him.  There was something strangely magnetic about fish- young or old, people loved to stare at them and watch them, in tanks or in the ocean, in real life or in videos or films.

     “I just want my life back.”  Steven said quietly after a long few moments.

     “Yeah, I’m getting that.”  Layla remarked acidly, standing straight again.

     “No, sorry, I- I wasn’t talking to you, just talking to myself, sort of.”  Steven rushed to apologize.

     Layla took notice of the bedroom area.  “Uh, this is your flat, Marc?”

     “Uh, I’m Steven.”  He corrected.

     She didn’t seem to care.  “Are you living here with someone else?”  She demanded, piercing him with her gaze that quickly flicked to Sarah.  “Her, maybe?”

     “‘Her’ has a name, which I’m happy to tell you now.”  Sarah responded.  “It’s ‘Sarah’, by the way.  Doctor Sarah Page.  And no, Steven and I aren’t like that- we’re just friends, that all, and until we got sacked this morning we were colleagues.”

     “Yeah, no, exactly, Sarah’s right.  This is my mum’s flat.”  Steven agreed.

     “Okay, so you guys are- are talking again?”

     Steven made a humming noise of confirmation, surprising Sarah.  She didn’t know Mrs. Grant (or ‘Ms.’) had started returning her son’s twice-daily messages.

     Layla picked up a book off one of Steven’s many bookcases.  “Marceline Desbordes-Valmore?”  She questioned, her pronunciation of the French name flawless.

     “Yep.”  Steven confirmed, then surprised all both women as he began reciting one of the poems in French:

“N’écris pas. Je suis triste, et je voudrais m’éteindre.

Les beaux étés-”  

     Surprising Steven and Sarah alike, Layla joined in: 

“-sans toi, c’est la nuit sans flambeau.”

     “Oui, oui.”  Steven half-joked.  “Yeah, she’s my favorite poet.”

     Layla frowned.  “Um, no, she’s my favorite.”

     Sarah sipped her tea.  “Can’t two people have the same favorite poet?  My mother and father met trying to grab the same copy of one of Phyllis Wheatley’s Poems.”

     “He knows she’s my favorite, and I know he knows that, so it’s stupid for him to act like he doesn’t know that and she’s his.”  Layla told Sarah, only slightly clarifying things.  She wandered across the flat, gesturing with the book to the heaping piles of Egyptian books on Steven’s desk.  “So you’re learning French and hieroglyphics?”  She prodded.

     “Yeah, well, that’s not that impressive, really.  It’s not like hieroglyphs are a whole language.”  Steven told her, strolling over to the desk as well.  “It’s more like a-”

     “-Like an alphabet.”  Layla completed shortly.

     “Yeah, and… well, you still have to know ancient Egyptian to read it.”

     “Sure.”

     Steven opened a book and pointed to the text on its page.  “For example, like this one here, right?”

     “Funeral rites.”  Layla cut to the chase.

     “You’re Egyptian, aren’t you?”  Sarah guessed, drawing their attention to her.  “Whether you were born there or not, it’s in your blood, right?  I was trying to figure out what your ethnicity could be.  Like, my mother’s from India and my father’s from Morocco, even though they both live here in England and I was born here, so I learned Arabic and Hindi from them, but I was fluent in English first.  If you’ve got ties to Egypt, it’d make sense for you to know some form of the language.”

     Layla eyed Sarah rather critically.  After a moment, she spoke.  “You know, I thought I wasn’t gonna, but I like you.  You’re smart, and you’re not mean about it.”  Sarah offered her a small smile, unexpectedly touched by those words.  “And I’m just- I’m not buying this, Marc.  Use whatever accent you want, yeah, let’s just get this over with.”  She strode across the flat and picked up a bag, from which she produced a document envelope.  “You sent these papers but you never signed them.”

     “Did I?  Uh….”

     Layla presented them to him matter-of-factly. “This is what you wanted.”

     Steven fished in his breast pocket for his glasses.  “Have a look here….”  He said, taking the papers to read over them.

     “After everything, you told me that we needed to move on.”  Layla said.

     “Alright... divor- divorce?”  He looked up at Layla in surprise.

     “Yeah, we doing this or not?”  She demanded, nodding at the papers.

     He glanced back down at the documents.  “I would never divorce you.”

     Sarah tilted her head as everything clicked into place.  “You’re not just angry, you’re hurt.  You don’t want to divorce Marc, but you think that he’ll never let you be with him, so you’re going along with it, and you’re not even willing to hear Steven out about him not being Marc.”

     Layla shot a look at her, but otherwise ignored her.  “What are you doing?”  She demanded incredulously of Steven.

     He removed his glasses, his face earnest and his voice soft.  “Look, you seem absolutely lovely.  This Marc, on the other hand, is a right twit, yeah?”  He looked over at a small mirror on his wall as Sarah chuckled at the description.  He stammered a moment as he looked back at Layla.  “I don’t know how to explain what’s been happening.  I don’t expect you to believe me; I honestly don’t really believe myself.  All I can do is try to- try to show you what I found, yeah.”  As he spoke, he went over to the bag he’d taken from Marc’s storage locker, putting the divorce papers down.

     Sarah threw back the last of her tea and headed over to them, standing about a meter behind Layla with her arms crossed.  “I found this bag in the storage locker.”  He continued.  “Well, Sarah and I found it.”  He opened it, rifling through the monies.  “And inside of it is all sorts of things, most interestingly-” He paused abruptly, and Sarah frowned.

     “‘Most interestingly’ is what?”  Layla pressed.

     Steven looked back down at the bag, a myriad of emotions on his face.  “Nothing.”

     What had Marc said to him to make him stop?  Sarah added another bullet point to her ever-growing mental to-do list: smack Marc next time he was controlling Steven’s body.

     “Nothing?”  Layla repeated disbelievingly.

     “Nothing, never mind.”

     “What’s in there?”  Demanded Layla, going for the bag even as Steven tried to stop her.

     “Nothing.  Wait, wait-” He was cut off as Layla shoved him aside and delved into the bag.  “Bloody hell.”

     Layla ceased her search, pulling the golden scarab out of the bag with a combination of betrayal, anger, and wonder on her pretty face.  “The scarab pointing to Ammit’s ushabti- what we fought side by side for.”

     “No-” Steven tried to interject, but Sarah was still processing the new information Layla had casually blurted out.  An ushabti was a small representative figurine used in Ancient Egyptian funeral practices, one of the many items that was put into someone’s tomb.  So, apparently Ammit had a tomb and an ushabti- possibly separated from each other, given that Layla had said that the scarab led to the figurine instead of just Ammit’s tomb- and the scarab was indeed a compass of sorts, but drawn to a specific object or location instead of the magnetism of the North Pole.  Thirdly, Ammit’s tomb and/or ushabti was likely located somewhere in Egypt, as it was to the southeast- the direction the scarab had floated in- and a reasonable place for a tomb of an Egyptian demon deity to be located.

     “This whole one-man show is just- what, so that you can keep it for yourself?”  Layla demanded, cutting off Steven and returning Sarah’s attention to her.

     “No no no, I swear-” Steven again tried, but Layla wasn’t done yet.

     “Why?  After all that we’ve been through?  No, just stop!  Stop!  I’m supposed to believe anything you say with this shoved in- what, a gym bag?”

     “Take it!  Take it, you can have it.”  Steven told her, clearly taking the woman by surprise.  “Take it, take it, I don’t want it.  I swear.  Have it.”  By his voice, he was close to tears, so very worked up over the stress of the last few days and this massive burden that had descended upon him.  “I am not Marc Spector.  I’m Steven Grant.  I work in a gift shop- well, I used to work in a gift shop- and I think I’m in real danger.  Me and Sarah both are, and I think maybe that you might be the only person that can help us.  Please.”

     At the Egyptologist’s name, Layla looked over at her.  “He’s telling the truth, Layla.  This Marc bloke’s only been speaking to him for a couple days- through mirrors, apparently- and he somehow got ahold of that scarab, but now there’s this Ammit-worshipping cult creeper guy who set an invisible Egyptian jackal on us last night trying to get it back.  Steven could see it, I couldn’t, but it very nearly killed both of us, and then Marc took over his body or something and grew some fancy mummy armor and killed it.”

     Layla’s face had softened, the anger draining out of it and giving way to sadness.  No- heartbreak.  “You really don’t remember why we’ve been looking for this?”  She questioned Steven, now sounding like she herself was fighting back tears as she held up the scarab.  “Our adventures… or our life together?”

     “Oh, God, I wish I could.”  Steven told her, and Sarah knew he meant it.

     Abruptly, there was knocking on the door.  “Steven Grant?  Can we have a word?”  A feminine voice asked through it.

     “See?!”  Steven hissed, pointing at it.  “Oh, God, they’ve come for me.”

     “Why?”  Layla queried.

     “I vandalized the toilet.”

     Sarah rolled her eyes, shaking her head fondly.  “You did not.  Marc did, when he was killing that bloody jackal thing.  Besides, the museum’s not pressing charges, remember?”

     The woman knocked again.  “Yeah, just a minute.”  Steven called.

     She knocked more.  “Steven Grant?”

     “Yeah?”

     “DC Fitzgerald and DC Kennedy here.”  The woman replied as Layla pocketed the scarab.

     “Yeah, one- one second.”  He opened the door and peered through the opening.  Layla raised a finger to her lips to signal Sarah not to speak.  “Hello, officers.”

     “Steven Grant?”

     He nodded, and Layla made a silent beeline for one of the windows.  “I think so, yeah.  I mean- yeah, yep, yes.  That’s me- 100% Steven Grant.”  Sarah shook her head at the absolutely overkill confirmation, then frowned.  Why was this woman so insistent about his name?  “Sorry, I was just having a bit of a day.”  He apologized.

     “Mind if we come in, Mr. Grant?”

     “Oh, um, actually, right now isn’t-” he looked over his shoulder back into the flat, but his protests were cut off.

     “Appreciate it.”  A man said, thrusting the door open and strolling in.  Sarah narrowed her eyes at his behavior- surely that wasn’t legal.

     “Anyone else here with you?”  The female DC asked, her eyes lighting on Sarah a moment later.

     “Just me.”  Sarah smiled.  “What seems to be the problem, officers?”

     They didn’t answer, both of them walking deeply into the flat, more intrusively than Layla had.  “So, um… yeah.  Is this about the toilet?”  He asked nervously.  “’Cause it’s been dealt with, yeah.  I’ve been sacked, and uh, yeah, that’s….” he trailed off, seeing the female DC standing by his ringed-with-sand bed, holding the singular ankle restraint.  “I have a sleeping disorder.”  She dropped it and walked away.  “And, yeah, well- the museum said that they, uh, wouldn’t press charges as long as, uh-” The sound of his shower curtain being yanked back cut him off briefly.  “-as long as I do it in installments.  They- They uh, they said that I could.”

     Steven turned abruptly to see the male DC standing quite close to him, holding a small pyramid.  “What’s this?”

     “It’s a paperweight.”  Steven answered.

     “Where’d you get it?”

     “Paperweight shop.”

     The sound of pealing bells reached their ears, and the female DC strode toward the window Layla had been heading for- and apparently snuck out of, since she was missing and the window was open.  Sarah cursed her failure to notice that.

     “You’re in possession of a stolen item.”  The man told Steven as he sat down.

     “Oh, yeah… no, I don’t have it.”  He told him as the DC went into the bag the scarab had been in.  Sarah subtly tugged her jeans higher up on her hips and the back of her jacket further down to better conceal the gun that had also been in that bag.  Without him being able to produce a legitimate firearms license, he’d’ve gotten into a world of trouble for having it in the flat.  “I don’t, no.  It’s not here.”

     The male DC took Marc’s passport out of the bag, and Sarah sucked in a breath quietly.  “‘Marc Spector’?”  He read, and Sarah finally realized something very suspicious about him- he was American.

     So were Marc and Layla.  And Arthur Harrow.

     And this American DC, who clearly held no regard for at least some laws (Danny had been very emphatic in teaching the team their rights in case they ever had trouble with police, whether it was anomaly-related or not), was very intently searching for something.  Sarah was willing to bet it was the scarab, and that these coppers weren’t actually coppers, but cultists of Ammit.  She casually put one hand on her hip, readying it to whip out the pistol.

     “That’s not mine.”  Steven told the man.

     “Funny that.”  He sneered, sauntering up to Steven and lowering himself to Steven’s height, holding the passport up and open.  “Fella looks just like you.”

     “Twin brother adopted at birth.”  Sarah deadpanned.

     “Fake passport and a thief?”  The woman said, and Sarah felt the pit of dread in her stomach worsen as she realized where this was going.  The man clicked his tongue disapprovingly.  “I think you best come with us, son.”

     “And her.”  The man jutted his chin indicatively at Sarah.  “Aiding and abetting, accessory after the fact.”

     Sarah rolled her eyes, not even bothering to defend herself.  Both fake cops- she was sure of it now- produced handcuffs, and when Steven tried to back away, the man shoved him down face-first on the floor and cuffed his hands behind his back.  Fearing the gun would be discovered, Sarah presented her hands to the woman with a calm façade.  They were ‘escorted’ to the car and put into the backseat without so much as a mention of their rights.  Steven seemed too upset and distressed to notice that error in their disguises.

One of Sarah’s lines is a slight variation of one of Amy Pond’s lines from Doctor Who, specifically “Vincent and The Doctor”.

#primeval #moon knight #sarah page #steven grant #layla el-faouly #khonshu #the british museum #queenclaudiabrown

[casspurrjoybell-27]

Claimed by the Beast - Chapter 4a

*Warning Adult Content*

Phone Number - Part 1

- Knox -

Knox didn't get any sleep last night because Everett didn't get any sleep last night.

The boy tossed and turned until a few hours before sunrise.

At one point, he screamed himself awake because of a nightmare.

More are bound to follow, given what all he experienced in the past twenty-four hours.

Knox couldn't help but pity his temporary roommate, enough to buy Everett a new charger so he can finally use that damn phone of his.

"I don't care who you reach out to, just don't reveal your location."

Knox tosses the yellow Dollar Store bag at Everett after entering his bedroom.

"Has Josie stopped by? I ran into her while I was on my out and she told me she had something for you."

Everett nods from the bed, quick to unbox the phone charger.

"She delivered a few toiletries shortly after you left. My skin was desperate for some lotion and it felt great to brush the stank out of my mouth. I'll never take toothbrushes for granted again."

"Yeah, because your breath smelled like..."

"Fuck off, you big panda. I didn't ask for your snarky commentary."

Knox's head falls backward as he laughs.

He shouldn't find Everett to be this amusing but he does.

Too much, if he's being honest.

Perhaps the way Everett carries himself is to blame.

His looks make him appear sweet and innocent but when set off, his mouth runs exactly like a filthy sailor's.

He's cute but deadly.

The absolute worst kind to fall for.

"Was that supposed to hurt my feelings or something?"

Knox removes his beat-up leather jacket and kicks off his shoes before joining Everett on the bed, taking a seat at the foot of it.

"It doesn't, by the way. Pandas are one of the most beloved animals on the planet. Everyone is a fan of pandas."

"Yeah, well, I'm not everyone," Everett mutters.

"In fact, I think they're extremely overrated."

Knox laughs again.

"Fuckin' liar. You couldn't even look me in the eyes when you said that."

"Don't you have someplace else to be?" Everett replies sharply, meeting Knox's playful gaze.

"No," Knox says. "Getting under your skin is far more entertaining.

"God, you're so annoying."

Everett plugs the charger into the wall outlet beside the nightstand and hooks his phone up to it,  struggling to keep from smiling.

"I prefer this version of you over the one who almost strangled me to death. Are you always this hot and cold with the people you kidnap?"

Knox purposefully avoids answering the question because his targets are usually dead by this point.

"Why panda?"

"Does it really matter?"

"Yes. I'm very curious to hear why you matched me to one of the most adorable animals in the..."

"Okay, enough." Everett rolls his eyes, the corners of his mouth twitching and wanting badly to rise. "You're dressed in black and white, and you're about the size of a pregnant one..."

They both chuckle at that.

"It was honestly the first thing to pop into my head as I watched you get dressed this morning."

"I thought you were still asleep then."

"I'm pretty good at faking it when I want to."

Knox bit back the inappropriate comment he wanted to make and instead allowed a comfortable silence to settle between them.

He responded to a few texts while Everett checked in with his people.

Knox appreciated the lie Everett told his parents in claiming he had spent the night with a boyfriend.

If only Shaun were still alive, Everett definitely would've been with him.

The what-ifs leave Knox feeling unsettled, so he quickly brushes them off.

The life that Shaun lived would've eventually caught up with them both.

It was only a matter of time before Everett witnessed firsthand just how cruel life was for a biker.

Going forward, Knox secretly hopes the boy will think twice about dating men that are no good for him.

Not that he should fucking care.

"My friends knew about Shaun and I being together."

Everett frowns while looking at old texts sent from Shaun, most of them flirty one-liners.

"They've sent me a thousand questions asking if I knew more about what happened. I assume they watched the news from last night."

"What did you tell them?" Knox asks.

Everett sighs, shaking his head as he deletes his conversation with Shaun.

"I hate lying to them."

"I know it's hard, but it's for their own good."

Knox drags a hand through his hair and exhales a heavy breath.

Since when did he become so... nice?

"You seem like a decent kid, Everett. I'm sorry you got pulled into this mess..."

A loud knock at the door makes Everett jump from his spot on the bed, effectively ending the conversation.

Knox doesn't move an inch.

"Who the fuck is it?" Knox growls, his demeanor doing a complete 180.

"The owner of the house," Gavin replies. "Come out here for a minute. We need to talk about the kid."

Everett reaches for Knox without thinking twice, one hand gripping Knox's left arm with enough force to leave behind an imprint.

The boy's light brown eyes are glowing bright with fear and his bottom lip is back to trembling.

Knox instinctively leans in closer, almost as if he's no longer in control of his body.

"Please don't let him hurt me," Everett whispers with a panicked voice.

"I won't say a word to anybody about anything, I swear. You have to believe..."

"I do. I believe you, Everett. You're safe with me, alright? I've got you."

"You promise?"

" I promise."

Everett nods and drops his hand, allowing Knox to stand and crack open the door.

Gavin doesn't peer inside being nosy, merely laughs at how ridiculous his newly appointed Enforcer is acting.

Must be something in the water.

"What's up?" Knox asks.

"I'll tell you as soon as you get your ass out here," Gavin says. "Or would you prefer the kid hears everything?"

[ethephoenix]

The Sword of Kas: A Stranger Things Story

A season 5, Eddie Munson + reader POV fanfic

By Evin Phoenix (share with attribution/ give credit)

If you’re wondering if the title is a double entendre/ innuendo. Do you really need to ask?

🖤🤘

Content warning: this story is NSFW and contains mature themes.

Ages 18+

Smutty scenes in part 2

Best viewed on wattpad

https://www.wattpad.com/1246974836-stranger-things-season-5-the-sword-of-kas-eddie

Chapter 1: New Scars

Eddie Munson woke up in an ice cold sweat, sticking to his leather jacket. Disoriented in the bright room, he pawed at his abdomen — blood. Dustin, he thought. Where's Dustin?

His vision began to clear into focus, and he panicked. He tore at his shredded Hellfire Club t-shirt, bracing himself for the vicious wounds to his guts where demobats feasted. A piece of his flesh fell into his fingers from his jacket, and he screamed a lonely scream of a boyin terror. Determined to take stock of his injuries, he bit into his bleeding tongue, his tearful doe-eyes wincing.

Nothing.

There was no wound. His tattooed stomach was perfectly healed, though his ink was now adorned with a few nasty scars.

"What?" he said incredulously. His shaking hands were frantic. He had to be sure. His hands and his stomach were covered in dried blood underneath his shredded clothes. There was no wound. Only scars.

A car horn startled him out of himself. He realized he was in his own bedroom. There was Elektra, his beloved B.C. Rich Warlock guitar. Fuck, he thought. I'm dead. I've died. Is this—

The car horn startled him again. He jumped out of his bed to look through the broken bathroom blinds in a paranoid frenzy. It was his uncle. "Eddie, we're gonna be late!" he yelled.

Eddie looked in the mirror. He still had strange ash in his hair from the upside-down, and crystallized purple demo bat blood. His eyes were different. He looked like a ghost.

"Eddie, let's go!" His uncle yelled again.

His muscle memory carried him through a quick shower and he pulled on jeans and a t-shirt from a rumpled ball on the floor. Confused, he hopped into the passenger seat of his van.

"I'm happy to keep driving you until you're fully recovered. You're not doing special K again, are you? You need your health, Eddie." His uncle put the shift in gear and popped the clutch.

"No, not that I'm aware," said Eddie.

"Well, you don't look so good. Here—" his uncle pulled out two crumpled dollars from his back pocket. "When you get to school, get a second breakfast and eat as much as you can. That'll fix you right up."

"Thanks," Eddie replied.

"And Eddie —" his uncle paused, steering them out of their weedy cul- de-sac in the early light. "I'm glad you're okay. I really thought you were gone."

"Yeah—" Eddie replied, "me too."

~

Eddie was in a daze all morning, unable to eat from either of his plastic breakfast trays.

The Hellfire boys laughed and horsed around at the table, plotting new campaigns and fighting over who would be the next dungeon master when Eddie graduated. The basketball team wrestled each other on the other side of the cafeteria, but he didn't spot Lucas, Patrick, or Jason. Eddie's mind wandered wildly, as if he was disconnected from his limp body. He stared off a thousand yards away, searching a distant darkness for understanding. There was so much he didn't remember. But worse still, no one else remembered. No one remembered anything. It was like nothing ever happened.

"Good morning—" Eddie jumped, intensely startled. "Eddie—" it was a teacher he hadn't met before. "I came to check in. We were supposed to meet at 8:45. Why don't we walk over to my office together? I'm Linda, the new guidance counselor. Come on."

He nodded passively to his friends, wondering where Dustin was. The whole school seemed freakishly... normal. No one seemed to notice how many people were missing. No one seemed to notice that he was supposed to be dead. Or that everyone was supposed to believe he murdered those kids.

~

"Ms. Johnson said you've missed several days this week," Ms. Linda began. "I know it's been hard since the earthquake, but what's going to really help is getting yourself back into a normal routine. You can't dwell on what happened. You're safe now."

"What about.. the murders?" Eddie asked.

"Murders?" Asked Linda. "Was this another of your dreams?"

A knock on the door startled him again. "Here's Eddie's file." The door closed.

"That reminds me. You're going to have a new peer facilitator. We have so many kids coming in after the quake that we had to bring in some volunteers who are getting their counseling degree. She graduated from Hawkins High last year, getting her psychology degree now. Since she's only a year older than you, we thought we could pair you to talk a little bit more since my schedule is so tight. Why don't you two grab lunch and get acquainted later?"

Eddie shrugs, and his rings clink against the steel armrests.

"What was that you were saying about murders?" Linda asked.

"Yeah," Eddie sighed. "Just more bad dreams." He scratched at his stomach at his new scars.

~

You tuck a file into Linda's inbox, close the door behind you, and go back to your temporary desk. You'd missed this school, but always felt creeped out in Hawkins. Too many urban legends spooked you away hundreds of miles to the University of Chicago.

That poor kid looked disturbed. You groaned. You didn't know what you were doing or how you were possibly going to be able to help him.

What made you think you had a clue about how to do this? Coming back after the quake was a mistake. You just wanted to help, but you were in way over your head.

The school bell rang, and your first appointment of the day walked in. Here we go, you thought. Just five hours today, and then I can be one day closer to going back home.

Home. Such a funny thing. Hawkins used to be your home. But not anymore. Everyone was so traumatized here. And you were so afraid you didn't know how to help them. One by one for hours, they all talked about how afraid they were after the quake, seeing Hawkins in crisis and disaster.

But a strange phenomenon began to appear: many of the kids had issues with memory. They couldn't remember the quake itself, or very much in the days leading up to it. Linda said it was a symptom of PTSD. But it was peculiar. You listened to her carefully, taking notes in your journals during the appointments, until the lunch bell rang.

~

You took a quick look at the kid's file. He was way too old to be in school still. Held back twice. For the same reason you were — fucking math. You chuckled to yourself.

Apparently he was involved in some kind of group of troubled boys. You remembered something about them from last year — they listened to some of the same music as you, so you assumed they were just struggling to fit in. You knew a thing or two about being an outcast.

Wait a second — Munson. Eddie Munson. This was the guy who played guitar in Corroded Coffin, the dungeon master from Hellfire Club? He was unrecognizable. You had only caught a quick glimpse of him in Linda's office, but he was a mess. The Eddie you remembered was so alive, passionate, and always smiling. What happened to him?

You took a seat back in your office, and waited to see if he would show. To your surprise, there was a knock at the door. "Right on time," you said.

~

"Hi. Ms. Linda told me I could find you here," Eddie said. He was hunched over in pain.

"Yeah, please have a seat. Do you want a water or a soda?" You asked him. He perked up a little.

"Shit, yeah I didn't even realize it but I can't remember the last time I ate or drank anything," he said. His big eyes met yours, and caught the light. You realized you'd never spoken before, even though you knew of him last year.

"Here, then you better drink this," you said, handing him a coke.

"So how does this work? I feel like it's kinda weird, to be talking to someone my age like this. Is this supposed to be like a shrink?" Eddie asked.

"It's whatever you want it to be," you said. "I mean," you blushed. "It's not exactly counseling, it's just a space that's supposed to be safe and comfortable. Hopefully you feel like you can trust me and feel like you can open up here. I'm not a counselor, no, but I care."

"Why?" He asked.

This caught you off guard. No one else had asked that. Why wouldn't someone care? "Because what happened here was scary. People died. Homes are gone. Earthquakes aren't a part of life here. But it's a creepy place. Some say it's cursed here." You looked back up at him. His face is shadowed by a dark wavy mane. "What do you think?"

"Do I think it's cursed?" Eddie asked. You nodded. "Oh yes," he said.

"Can you tell me more about that?" You asked him. He opened his mouth, but the fire alarm went off. "Oh no, let me go see if it's a drill. I'll be right back."

Eddie watched you go into the hall, his leg bouncing anxiously. Suddenly, the fire alarm stopped. The hall fell quiet. He didn't hear anything. Not even any footsteps in the hall. Eddie stopped bouncing his leg.

"I don't like this," he muttered, and stood up. He came into the hall. It was empty. "Ms. Linda?" He called out. "Dustin?" Dustin, are you there? Yourname? Lucas? Hello?"

The hall was silent. A clock on the wall ticked discordantly. The second hand was stuck. Every tick, it tried to move forward. But it was pulled back into place on the same second mark. 1:37.

"Hello?" Eddie called. "Anybody?"

The corridor light down the hall shut off. One by one, the lights shut down, the shadow moving closer to Eddie. "Oh fuck this," Eddie said, and ran outside. But he stopped in his tracks.

The sun was gone behind a blanket of thick grey clouds. The shadows on the grass shuddered, an unnatural silvery green. And then he saw them — everyone had gone outside.

"Hey, what's going on?" No one moved. Everyone was standing still, facing away from him. He came around the nearest person. Her eyes were rolled in the back of her head, her arms at her sides. "Hey!" Eddie said. "Hey!"

Eddie ran from person to person, trying to wake them up from the spell. All of them stood up straight, their arms at their sides, eyes white and unresponsive. Suddenly Eddie remembered — just a feeling at first. And then her name. "Just like Chrissy," he said out loud. "No—"

He heard a scream from inside the school.

"Shit. Hold on!" Eddie yelled. He ran in the direction of the scream. "I'm coming. Just hold on!" The lights flickered, and a grandfather clock chimed deeply. "I'm coming!" The screaming continued, and as Eddie turned a corner, he tripped on his shoelaces. The lights cut back on, and people came around the corner, laughing and chewing gum. "It's not due until Friday. Let's sneak out anyway," someone said.

"What's happening? Are you okay?" Eddie stammered. The girls looked at him oddly, popping their gum, and ignored him. People surrounded him on their way to their next class. He leaned against the lockers in frustration, and suspiciously eyed a flickering corridor light.

~

"Eddie?" You called out. "Are you still here? Shit. He was just here." You looked at your watch. 1:37. "He was literally just here." He couldn't have gone far, you thought. You go out to look for him, and come back to your desk empty-handed.

"Guess I'll finish his coke," you said. It smelled like his cologne. Woodsy, and a hint of rose.

~

Eddie hopped out of his van, and grabbed his guitar from his uncle's trailer. He threw some cassettes into a duffel bag, some clothes, and another of his leather jackets. He paused in the bathroom, looking at his bloody, shredded clothes on the floor by the shower. He stuffed them in the bag too. There was no way in hell he was gonna stay in that trailer of death.

Eddie turned down his Dio cassette as he slammed on the brakes in front of Dustin Henderson's house. He desperately needed to talk to him. Maybe Dustin had some idea about what was happening to Hawkins — and to him. He knew he had died. It felt so real. So how did he end up back in his bed? And what the fuck happened with the earthquake?

Eddie got out of his van and saw the for sale sign in the yard. "What the hell? Oh please, fuck no—" he ran up to the door and fruitlessly banged on it. No one answered.

"Lookin for somebody?" A voice called out behind him. A neighbor stood in a nearby yard with a rake.

"Yeah, uh, Dustin Henderson. He lives here."

"I'm sorry, they moved out a few days ago. His mom took him out of town right after the quake."

"Do you know where they went?" Eddie asked.

"Out west. Think maybe Salt Lake."

Eddie thanked him and went back to his car. With his uncle out of town for awhile, there were only a couple places left to go. And the light was already fading.

Eddie shuddered, thinking about being out on the roads as night fell in Hawkins. He turned up his mixtape as Guns N Roses' Welcome to the Jungle clicked on. Eddie sighed with some small relief as he heard a familiar favorite tune. He was about to turn it back up when he noticed Dustin's neighbor pause in the street. He dropped his rake, and his arms dropped to his sides.

Eddie leaned forward in his seat.

The neighbor stood still for a moment, while some of the other folks across the street stood up on their patios, facing the same direction. A black cloud passed over the sun.

Eyes wild, Eddie whipped around and saw the street behind his van full of dozens of neighbors, standing still, eyes rolled back in their heads.

"Fuck this," Eddie said, and slammed his foot on the gas.

While Guns N'Roses blared, he weaved his way at top speed through the streets, avoiding some of the people who stood under a spell and overcast skies.

People were in the street all the way back to school, and as he pulled into the parking lot, he heard the clock tome. The skies were dark as twilight, and he had to have his headlights on.

"Yourname! Yourname! Lucas! Harrington! Wheeler!" No one answered. The corridor lights flickered again, as Eddie was chased by a voice that was right behind him.

Edward...

"Leave me alone! What the hell do you want with us? They're just kids! Get the hell away from here!"

Eddie grabbed a mop and broke off the handle into a spear. He drew a serrated fixed blade from his boot. "Show yourself!"

The lights clicked back on, and he hid his knife as students walked past him down the hall, completely unfazed by him or what had apparently just happened.

Chapter 2: A Dark Fog

Eddie found his way back to the theater backstage area where the Hellfire club met for their campaigns. He slumped into an old chair and put his head in his hands.

"Eddie?" He jumped. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to scare you," you said.

"God, you really crept up on me there, yourname. It's okay. Are you alright?" He asked you.

"Yeah," you said, confused. "Are you?"

Eddie laughed. "I do not think so, no. Do you know what's going on around here? Did you feel anything weird just now?"

You paused. "Well," you began. "Now that you mention it, yeah."

His dark curls fell into his eyes as he leaned in closer to you. "Please go on." His hair smelled like the woods after the rain.

"I guess just now, in the bathroom, I remember I was washing my hands, and then I blinked... and then all of a sudden, the water was all over the floor. It was flooding the bathroom. That's why my clothes are all wet."

"Oh man, I didn't even notice," he laughed. You realized you really liked it when he smiled. You wanted to make him laugh.

"What else do you remember?" He asked.

You paused. "I think that's it. I was just weirded out. I never noticed it overflowing. It was fine and then I blinked, and it was just everywhere."

"Listen, something is going on here. It doesn't seem like anyone else knows what's going on. But I'm worried. You told me people were having trouble with their memory. And now so are you."

"Until you said that, I didn't realize it, but you're absolutely right. Has this been happening to you?" You asked him.

"No," Eddie starts. "Listen, there's some people we should call. I think they'll know what's going on. Can we use your office phone?"

You opened your mouth to say okay, but something fell down behind you. Eddie jumped up, thrusting out his knife in front of him. "Get behind me," he said to you.

"What's wrong?" You asked. "It's probably just some kids staying late and making out. No one is ever back here except your club this late. Why do you have a knife ... that big?"

Eddie creeps towards the sound. Nothing is there.

He turns around to face you. "I have to show you something."

~

Eddie threw a pile of bloody rags onto the table. "These were my clothes last night. I'm not supposed to be here, man. Look what happened... to me. I was wearing these. I was attacked."

"Attacked? By who? Last night?" You ask.

"Yes," Eddie continued. "Or at least, I think it was last night. My memory isn't so good right now. It feels like something is living in my brain. A dark fog."

"Yeah," you continued. "For me too. And I think for a lot of the kids who've come to talk to me." You lean in closer to the clothes. "You must have gotten really hurt—" your mouth hung open as Eddie threw off his jacket and ripped off his Black Sabbath shirt.

Stunned, you observed Eddie Munson standing there in front of you half-naked. The sweat on his tattoos caught the backstage color lights. And then you saw the scars. "Ouch! These are insane! But this was from... last night? I don't understand."

"I don't either, man." He replied. "How could I have healed like this? Look at this one on my neck. And I haven't been able to eat anything. And I keep seeing people do things. I really don't even have the words. It's like people are frozen for a minute. And the sky gets all dark,"

"Eddie, whatever you've been through, you've been traumatized. Deeply. It's normal for people to feel... disoriented. Like reality doesn't even make sense anymore."

"No, that's not what this is. Look—" He held up the leather jacket under the rag pile of his shredded clothes. He took your hand and pressed your fingertips to the lining.

"It's wet." You said. "What is that?" You pull your hand away to look, and your fingers are red with blood. "What the hell?"

"The blood isn't even dried," Eddie said. "This was from last night. Not even twenty-four hours ago.

"Eddie, whose blood is this? What did you do?" You said, feeling your heart race with fear.

"It's mine. Listen to what I'm trying to tell you, please. I need your help."

You turn and run. "Eddie, you definitely need help!"

"Please, just listen!" He yelled after you. "You're in danger! Hawkins isn't safe!"

~

"Sinclair! Man, am I glad to reach you. Do you know how to reach Dustin? I'm sorry, I've been having some weird, foggy memory issues. I can't find his new number." Eddie rubs his eyes, holding the phone with his cheek against his shoulder. His skull rings still have bits of dried blood on them in the grooves of their embossed teeth.

"Yeah Eddie, I'll give it to you. And hey, can you swing by the hospital? Can you bring me some of your DnD dice? I left all mine at the house and have been getting kinda bored reading," Lucas said.

"Are you hurt? Why are you at the hospital? What happened?" Eddie asked.

"Eddie, sorry I thought you knew. It's Max. She's really sick. She's been asleep a long time," Lucas replied.

Eddie's eyes brightened with realization. "How long has she been there?" He asked.

"A couple of weeks," Lucas said.

Eddie leaned against the wall in relieved understanding. He finally had a clue. "Lucas, what happened that night— I didn't come back with Dustin. Something happened to me in the fuckin, weird other side place."

"What other side place?" Asked Lucas. "What happened?"

Eddie lowered the phone. Lucas had no memory of the upside-down. Which meant he didn't know what really happened to Max. Or Eddie. Or Hawkins. Eddie struggled to remember himself. But he was getting closer. And he knew something was terribly wrong.

~

Randy's place was just as Eddie had left it. A ribbon of police tape fluttered in the wind, still tied to a tree in front. He snuck in to the house from out back, by the boathouse, which had become his home away from home. Whatever home meant anymore.

Hawkins hadn't felt like home in a very long time.

He called Dustin's new number. It made some weird sound he'd never heard. He tried again with the same result, and hung up. He grabbed the white pages and looked up Steve Harrington. Busy. Next he flipped back to the W section. There were several Wheelers. But all of their addresses were way out of town. The address for Ted Wheeler wasn't far. He called it.

"Hello?" It was Nancy.

"Oh my god, Nancy. I need to talk to you. It's Eddie. Can you help me get ahold of Steve or Dustin? Do you know what's going on in Hawkins? I'm having some trouble remembering things. I know we were, we were working on a... a project. Robin and Steve, Dustin, Max, Lucas. Do you remember?"

"Hey Eddie. I'm sorry, I'm struggling to remember some things too. I think it's just all the stress after the earthquake—"

"Nancy, no, just trust me, please." Eddie sat down on the floor, the telephone cord wrapping around him. "I have to talk to you. Can you come out to Randy's boathouse again? Something is happening and we gotta figure it out. Hawkins is in danger. I've been seeing people do things that don't make any sense. I remember being with Dustin after we were all together, and I remember getting really hurt, and I —" he trailed off.

"It's okay, Eddie. I think we were together when the quake happened. That night. I can come out there. Can I bring someone we can trust?"

"Yeah. I mean, yeah, of course, Wheeler, totally fine. We gotta figure this out. I'll — " The line cut off.

"Wheeler?" Eddie asked into the phone. "Wheeler?"

The TV clicked on and off, and started to flash the ant race static.

"Oh please fucking no—" he said. He tried to call Nancy back, but the line was dead. The lights in the house flickered for a moment, and then fully died with a bang.

He looked outside, and it was pitch black except for some distant flickering across the lake in another house. All the street lights and other homes were dark.

Eddie was breathing fast. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up, and something came back to him. A flashing image of the lake, dry as a bone, covered in wet tentacles, and at the center, a gaping red hole.

His eyes adjusted to the light of the full moon, and he saw some of the neighbors standing in their yards. They were all facing the center of the lake. Their arms hung at their sides, and the same grandfather clock tolled.

Terrified, he glanced at the kitchen clock, its second hand struggling against itself, frozen in a loop.

He looked back outside, and everyone was gone. The lights across the lake cut back on, one by one, until the TV and kitchen lights cut back on, and Johnny Carson's voice murmured from the living room.

The phone rang again. Eddie grabbed it. "Nancy?"

"Yeah, it's me. Sorry, we got cut off—"

"Wheeler, you gotta get over here right now. Something is going on in Hawkins. What do you remember happening just now?"

"Um, the phone cut out and then I called you right back."

"That's all you remember? No lights flickering? The power didn't cut off?"

"No, we didn't lose power over here. It's okay, though, Eddie. I can come over. I'll bring someone. See you soon. It's gonna be okay." Click.

Eddie hung up and slumped over, reaching into a box of honey comb cereal. He brought it up to his mouth, and tried to open it. He just couldn't do it, no matter how hard he tried. And he could barely make himself drink water. The only thing he wanted... in fact, he desperately craved a very rare, bloody piece of steak.

Chapter 3: An Impossible Choice

"Hey. It's you," Eddie said. He stood in the doorway with the lake behind, the aroma of spaghetti wafting. "I didn't know you knew Nance."

"Hi again," you said shyly.

"Yeah, we were friends before she graduated. She always used to drive me home from school if my Mom had to pick up Mike from Will's house."

"Cool," Eddie said. The kitchen was warm and inviting compared to the misty night.

Eddie smelled like pasta and his signature woodsy scent. Nancy hugged him hello. "I'm worried about you, Eddie." She said.

Eddie let go and turned to you. For a moment, you thought about hugging him too, but remembered the last thing you said to him, and the strange behavior from backstage at the theater.

Eddie stepped forward like he was going to hug you, but put out his hand instead. "Are we cool?" You hesitated.

"Yeah," you said, holding out your hand. "We're cool." His hand was soft to the touch, and incredibly hot. Eddie smiled again, putting his other hand on yours warmly. Your hand lingered in his.

"Oh, sorry," you said. Fucking blushing. Again. But Eddie saw, and you liked that he saw.

"It's okay." Eddie smirked. His tension softened. "Help yourself to some pasta, ladies."

"I'm starving. Come have some of this, hon." Nancy gave you a plate, and handed one to Eddie.

"No thanks," he said. "I had a few bites of the meat earlier."

"Anyway, I brought her because I think she might be able to help us. She's a great listener. And she told me you had a little... thing earlier. When you called me, she was already with me. So here we are. Now, can you just tell me everything? I'm going to just stuff my face and listen, and then I'll tell you everything I know, and maybe we can figure some of this out," Nancy said, sitting down to eat.

~

Eddie takes a deep breath. "I know we were working on something. Together. Us, and Dustin, Harrington, Lucas, Max, Robin, Erica. I just can't figure out what it is. I've been getting these headaches — and these cravings—"

You and Nancy glance at each other.

"And I showed her earlier, but look... apparently I got these wounds two weeks ago, but to me, it was just last night. Why don't we remember anything? Something is putting us under like a trance, or a spell. I know it sounds crazy, but man, you wouldn't believe what I've been seeing. The whole town. This bell rings, like a grandfather clock, and then everyone just freezes in the street. And—"

Eddie continues pacing around the room. "The lights flicker like crazy —"

A band starts playing on Johnny Carson in the other room, and Nancy stares at the table, someplace far away.

"Nance?" You ask. "Nancy?"

The singer continues the chorus, highway to the danger zone... take you right into the danger zone...

You put your hand on her shoulder, and she jumps, snapping out of it. "What was that? Were you like, in a trance or something?" You ask.

"Yes. No. I was—- I remember. I remember now. The song. I remembered listening to it over and over before spring break. Before the earthquake. And then it all came back. Everything —"

A tear fell from Nancy's eye. "Do you remember what happened, Eddie? Do you remember what happened to you?"

"Whatever that song did, it jarred your memory or broke you out of the fog or something. But —" Nancy cut Eddie off.

"The song. It brought me back out. You need a song! It's coming back to me now. It's what we did for Max. Quick— whats your favorite song?" Nancy ran over to the record player. "Do you have tapes?"

Eddie went over to the door. "Hey you should come with me. Maybe there's a tape for you in the van. It will help clear your head and free your memories. You probably don't like my taste in music tho."

You laughed. "What makes you say that?"

Eddie scrounged up a few handfuls of tapes. "Here, uh, one sex. Sec. one sec."

It was dark in the van, but he was blushing now. You stifled a laugh. He was so sweet behind that edgy exterior.

You wanted to see what was underneath.

"Here we go. We've got, uh, Metallica, of course, Dio, Sabbath, Iron Maiden..."

You spot your favorite album and grab it. Eddie clawed through his bins. "Nancy said it had to be my favorite song. God, that's hard. How do I choose only one? And the stakes are so high! Shit, man." Eddie became frantic. "I fucking had it. It was right here."

"Oh no. What is it?" You ask. "I can help you look. I'm sure it's here."

"It's, uh," Eddie became coy. "It's Guns N'Roses. Sweet Child O'Mine. I know, it's like, so cheesy, but it's just a really beautiful song. Don't judge me. You probably thought I was gonna say like Judas Priest or something, huh?"

I smiled, and threw my head back in laughter. "Seriously, man? You're laughing at me? Like, really hard, too. Wow. Just totally roasting me right now. Ouch."

"No," you collect yourself. "No, no no--" you try to explain.

"I get it. It's cool. Whatever. Laugh at me. Hey, I'll bet your favorite song is Madonna or something. No, Blondie." Eddie looked smug. He was hurt.

"No, Jesus, Eddie, I already grabbed my favorite." You open your hand and show him, and he pulls your palm up to his face so he can see in the dim light.

His eyes widen and he laughs with you. "Wow. Nice. We have the same favorite song."

"Yeah," you laugh. "We do."

He smiled. "You like Guns N'Roses? Aren't they a little... hard for you?"

"I like it hard," you flirt. "What makes you think I wouldn't like them?"

"I guess I just didn't see that coming. It's not like I have the luxury of having a file on you," Eddie said. His brown eyes, wide as saucers, sparkled in the low light. He carried such a fire in him. Every time you saw him, it burned hotter. Brighter.

The sparks between you crackled.

"Well, you're right about one thing. You don't know me, Eddie Munson."

"I'd like to," he said. He leaned in towards you.

"I'm not supposed to be hanging out with the folks I work with at school," you said.

"Well, I get the feeling that given you're sitting here with me, right now, you're something of a rebel," he said.

"Yeah. Something like that," you said.

"Well now I really wanna know more," Eddie said. "Why'd you get into becoming a shrink, anyway?"

"I went through some shit when I was a kid. I'd like to maybe one day help other kids that are going through stuff too." You said.

"What kind of shit?" He asked. "It's okay, you know, if you don't wanna talk about it. I was just wondering, because I've seen some shit too. And I think that's why, like, I never really fit in."

"Yeah," you reply. "It was the same for me. For me, it was my mom. She wasn't well. And she was high a lot. I was always trying to fix the problems that created. I got her job back for her once. I was nine, begging her boss. Used to clean up her throwup. Pulled her and carried her out of the car. Stuff like that. How about you?"

"Oof. Wow. Yeah, with my Dad, it was drinking. Always. Every single day. My mom, I don't even know what happened. I think she died when I was little. Might have been drugs. My uncle has kept an eye on me, best he can. But I haven't seen my dad in years."

"God, I'm sorry." You said.

"Me too," said Eddie. "I dunno why I'm telling you all this. I haven't told anybody that, like, ever." He bit his pillow lips, and his boyish grin took over his face.

"I'm glad you are," you said. "I have a feeling we have a lot more in common." Your feet were touching his leg, and he put his hand on your calf in a familiar way, like he'd done it many times.

It was so easy to be with him. You left Hawkins because you had always felt like such an outcast, and you still were at your new college in Chicago. But something in you just felt so free, and relaxed, even with everything going on.

"We should probably go back inside," he said. "We need to listen to our favorite song."

~

Nancy was staring at the table. Kenny Loggins was on repeat on the console. She hadn't touched her food.

"I remember now. I saw him," she said. "When we went through the gate. At your trailer. Where Chrissy died. I remember... what he showed me. Hawkins was on fire. Dead soldiers. A creature with a gaping mouth. And so many monsters. And my mom, and Holly, and Mike. They were all dead. And four gates to Hell, right here in our Hawkins. Our home."

"Jesus," you said.

"Doesn't seem like it," Eddie quipped. "Time for a new song." He popped the tape in the deck "Are you ready?"

You took a deep breath. "I don't know. I'm freaking out."

"It's alright, babe. Here—" Eddie took your hands in his, and the bright guitar riff began to play. "I've got you."

He looked into your eyes, and you felt safe for the first time in days. Maybe longer. Maybe ever.

"Whatever happens, I'm here," he said. "And we're gonna figure this out together. I promise." His rings were cold. Long curls fell about his face, framing a goofy smile. You were scared, but Eddie made you feel strong.

"Whatever happens, I'll be glad I met you here," you said, becoming bolder. "I'm glad you survived all this shit. And if things go sideways, I will fucking kick some ass. Because there is a lot you don't know about me yet, Eddie Munson." You smiled at him.

He couldn't have looked more thrilled. Every time you looked at him, he looked brighter, like something chased the shadows away.

And then it hit you.

Eddie's hands clamped down on yours, and you were sent into a frenzied blur of memory. You could feel him there, but you were lost in a storm of remembering. Hawkins. The news of the quake. The drive from Chicago. The military checkpoints. The destruction. The caravans of cars and cars leaving town.

Eddie was lost in his own torrents of darkness. A hold on his mind broke free, and he saw everything.

The last Dungeons and Dragons game. Feeling so proud of Dustin and Erica. The excitement to see Chrissy after the game. The anxiety that something would happen to this new connection. The longing for a girlfriend, and the butterflies in his stomach over Chrissy Cunningham, the queen of Hawkins High, entrusting herself to his guidance in taking a risk, breaking a law, doing something rebellious.

Then, the terror. The unspeakable horror. The snapping of so many bones. The frantic drive back to the boathouse. Hiding for days, alone in the uncertain, terrifying darkness. The planning with Dustin and the gang. The Watergate. The upside-down. The plan. The RV, going on the run. Resolving to protect Dustin and the gang at all costs. The most metal guitar solo in history. And then...

I died, he thought. I died, right there with Dustin. I remember it. I remember my fear. I was so cold. I wasn't ready. But I didn't want to scare Dustin. I had to make him think it was okay. I had to comfort Dustin, in my own death. Because he's just a kid. And it wasn't fair. And I loved that kid. Loved. Love. I died. Right?

The thrumming, discordant chime of a grandfather clock shattered through your separate visions.

Both you and Eddie were thrown from memory, back into each other's arms. "Where do we go, now?" Echoed the chorus from the song. Over and over... "Where do we go?"

A gulf appeared between you, a volcanic chasm that grew, pushing you both apart as the world around you collapsed into ruin and fire.

"Eddie! Eddie!" You screamed.

"Yourname! Just hold on! Hold on!" He yelled back to you. Nancy clung to the couch, now far away, shredded corners of the lake house falling apart.

Mountains of jagged rock grew between and under you both. You dug your fingers into the shards for balance as the distance to the ground grew, and the two of you rose on stone mountains high into the air.

Crimson lightning crackled, illuminating a blood-red hurricane sky.

"Edward," reverberated a booming voice from all directions. "It's time to say goodbye to your friends. To Hawkins." The voice cackled. "It's time for this war to begin, and to end. It's time for you to become who you were meant to be."

"Vecna!" Eddie yelled. "Kiss my ass, you sticky piece of shit!"

The voice growled. Vecna approached from a towering fortress high above, a stone mountain suspended high in the air.

Nancy screamed from below. You couldn't hear her, but hoped she could somehow reach the rest of their friends. For dear life, you held on to the rock as you flew higher into the air.

"I have a deal for you, Edward," Vecna boomed. "You have something I need. Your friends were too late. You and your friends lost. But I can give you more than you ever dreamed of. Come with me and live forever in a paradise of unimaginable power."

Eddie struggled against the forces of the lightning storm. You could just barely hear him, but he made himself heard.

"I will never join you, asshole. You're a fucking joke. Burn in hell, skin bag." Eddie turned and flung an enormous stone in his direction, which Vecna deftly turned his hand to deflect with his telekinetic powers.

"Then you have a choice," Vecna continued. "Come with me into the shadow lands of night, where I will make you a King. Refuse, and I burn Hawkins into scorched Hell on Earth, with your friends left to burn alive. With their parents, and their little brothers and sisters, and everyone you've ever known."

Vecna flung our stone pillars together, and held us together but just out of reach. Slithering tentacles squeezed life from us.

"Eddie, don't do it," you yelled. "We can beat him. Nancy can get everyone here to help. You said there was someone with powers who can hurt him. Who hurt him before. Don't do this. There's another way. There is another way," you begged. "Listen to me!"

Eddie fought the black vines that held him. "You know I don't really have a choice, right, babe? I don't wanna do it. I have to. I can't let him do this to you and Hawkins. My uncle. Dustin and the kids. Who am I kidding? I won't be that missed, anyway."

"Eddie," tears stung your face in the heat of the storm. "You're wrong. That isn't true—"

"Yes it is. It's okay. I accepted it a long time ago. I'll be okay. Don't you worry about me." Eddie slumped against the stone pillar.

Lightning like dragon scale flashed and burned behind him across the crimson skies.

"You have one day to make your choice," Vecna said. "Or I will bring death to Hawkins, and soon, to the world. I will make war, and terror will reign, until I burn down the walls between realms, and this world is forever transformed into the dark power of my dreams."

Back in each other's arms, in the lake house living room, listening to "Sweet Child O'Mine," you're all thrown from the vision and back into yourselves.

"I'm calling Eleven," Nancy said. "And everyone else."

Chapter 4: Tick, Tock

"The songs are the key," Nancy said into the dirty yellow kitchen phone. "You have to listen to your favorite song to break the hold he has on us. It's some kind of spell, over the whole town! Just trust me. Listen to the songs. And then you all need to get over here ASAP. And Mike — be careful."

Nancy reached over Eddie to hang up the phone, and he collapsed onto the floor, coughing blood.

"Ow, shit!" You said. Something cut your thigh below your cutoffs.

"Oh my god, are you okay? Nancy, what the hell is happening? When will they be here? They have to help us. We can't let Vecna do this."

"I know, sweetie, I know, but listen, we're gonna be okay. We've been through some things and we're gonna be okay."

Eddie's body began to convulse. "Eddie, can you hear me? Eddie?"

"Killed... me," Eddie whispered through his bloody teeth. "Bats... killed me."

He went limp, asleep.

"What the hell was he talking about? Bats? Did this happen last time?" You asked Nancy. "You know, before?"

"No," she said. "It definitely did not. The bats he's talking about... Right before the quake, Dustin said Eddie was hurt really bad by the demobats. They bit him a lot, and, Eddie actually died there. Dustin came back and told his uncle about it. The whole town thought Eddie had done some horrible things. Killed some kids. But he didn't. And no one would ever know. And I don't remember what happened after that, it gets kinda foggy. But somehow, even though Dustin saw him die, he's come back here. I don't understand it."

"Wait, did you say some kind of bats attacked him?" You ask Nancy.

"Yeah," she said. "Why? Oh! Oh, my god. Do you think..."

"It has to be. What else? Do you remember what he said about meat? And not being able to eat? And what would Vecna want with him? You said Vecna had been basically killed, but his body disappeared. What if Vecna needs something Eddie has, like some kind of power after having been bit by the bats? Like... what if he's sort of a vampire now?"

Nancy turned back to Eddie. "It's definitely possible. Which means he may be turning into one little by little. Who knows how much time he may have. And we only have less than a day to stop Vecna. What happened to your thigh?"

"Oh," you waved your hand in the air. "I think Eddie's bracelet sliced open my thigh."

"Ouch! Yeah, you're bleeding pretty bad. Let me go see if I can find a first aid kit. You stay here with him. Steve and Dustin and the others should be here soon."

You sat down on the carpet in the living room, and put Eddie's head onto your lap, taking care to keep his long hair away from your blood dripping down your knee. He was so beautiful like that. So peaceful. It was nice to see him that way. But your heart jolted, thinking about such a horrible choice he was facing. How were a bunch of kids from Hawkins going to stop a demon-god?

"I've got a bad feeling about this, Eddie," you said to him as he slept.

You sighed, exhausted. It was so late it was early. You closed your eyes, and leaned against the couch. You didn't even remember falling asleep.

~

Something startles you awake. Another grandfather clock discordant chime. The lights flicker.

"Mmmm, yeah, I'll take fries with that..." Eddie said in his sleep.

"Eddie wake up. Eddie. Wake up, something's happening," you said.

His dark eyelashes reveal sleepy earth-colored eyes. "Oh no," he sighed, rubbing his face. "Not again."

"This happened before? Please tell me what the hell this is." You ask.

The lights cut off, and Eddie sits up instantly.

"Shit," he said, and peeked out the blinds towards the lake. "Just stay there. Don't move or anything."

You run over to the window beside him and look. "I don't see anything."

A tense moment passes in the darkness.

"I dunno. It's different this time. This has been happening a few times since I woke up this morning. Which was the last thing I remember before I... Before I thought I died. It's like this with the lights. Flashing, and then they go off. This morning at school, you went to check the fire alarm and it started happening. And the chiming of a clock. And then everyone was just standing, outside, and the sky was all dark."

"Nancy said something about that earlier, about how Vecna taunted his victims. How he did this when he put people into that death trance," you said.

The lights clanged back on, and Eddie closed the curtains. He turned to face you.

"You know, you don't need to be involved in all this. You should go back home in the morning, get the hell out of Hawkins, as far away as you can," he said.

You laugh. "You think I wouldn't love to do that?"

"So why don't you?" His voice was kind. Wavy lengths of his hair brushed your shoulder.

"Because I don't wanna be that person," you replied. "I was raised by that person. I believe in doing the right thing, especially when it's hard, because I know from experience that if something is hard, probably no one is coming to help you. That's how it was my whole life. And that's not how it should be for anybody."

"Yeah. I think I know what you mean. You don't wanna run away," he replied.

"I mean, I do, but I won't. At least, I hope not. I did once."

"Did what?" He asked. He took his jacket off and sank into the couch, motioning for you to sit beside him.

"I ran away," you sat down and looked at the floor. Eddie was quiet. You thought he must have been judging you now. Maybe he was disappointed.

"We've all done things we regret," he said. He took your hand, and you met his gaze. "Things that ...haunt us."

You both left it there for a moment, though you wanted to know more about him, you didn't really want him to know more about you.

Eddie grabbed something from the fridge, and went to the bathroom.

While he was gone, you spotted a guitar in the corner. A nice little Martin. You checked the strings. They were mostly in tune, but the high E was flat. Using the low E string, you turned the peg and brought the guitar into tune, and hit the harmonics on the twelfth fret.

"Sounds like bells," you said. You began to twiddle around, and sat on the floor. It had a capo on the headstock, so you started to play one of your favorite originals. A long instrumental interlude leading into a melody in six-eight time.

"What album is that?" Eddie asked from the hallway.

"Mine," you said, still fingerpicking. You felt him stop behind you. "Wow, I had no idea. You sound amazing. You wrote this?" He asked.

"Few years ago," you said. "Just a little folk song. Know this one?" You started to play another.

"Fuckin' get outta here!" Eddie smiled. "Course I know it. Eddie grabbed the twelve string beside him on the floor and started playing along. "Zeppelin's best. One of the first songs I learned how to play. I'll take the lead. I mean, unless you—"

"No, please go ahead. I only really play rhythm." You kept up with the rhythm part and Eddie started on the beautiful melody bassline. It sounded amazing. And for the first time in awhile, you were actually having fun.

You went into a plucky little medley of Ramble On, Going to California, and ended with Over the Hills and Far Away. Before you knew it, you'd spent hours plucking away, trading original music and even starting to write a song together. Laughing and forgetting everything that needed to be forgotten, even if just for this moment in the grey dark of morning.

You laid down next to your guitars. Your hands found each other's, and he pulled a blanket up onto your legs.

Dawn was breaking.

"Can I lay like that again?" He asked.

"Oh. Yeah. Sure." You smiled, and got cozy in the blankets while he laid his head on your lap.

"You don't have to do this," you sighed. "Just buy us time to help you and win. Nancy said she has a friend named Elven who can help us, right? She should be here soon. Listen to me, Eddie. Sometimes things feel so hopeless and we don't see any way out. But there is always another way. We'll figure it out. Can you just try to buy us some time?"

Eddie was staring at the ceiling. His eyes were tender.

You let yourself touch his face, and he looked at you. "I'll try," he said. He lifted his head from your thighs and rolled over so his head was on your chest.

"You're pretty wild, guitar girl," he said in his warm, melodic voice. His necklace pendants tumbled onto you.

"Here I was thinking I was finally on the straight and narrow," you said, sighing.

"Well, I like every version of you I've seen so far," he said.

Eddie smelled the brass on you from the guitar strings, and kissed your fingertips.

"Nothing like a bit of metal dust on the fingertips from shredding to make a girl really, really, really attractive," he said.

"And something else... Tonight. Thank you for this. Just hangin' out. Jamming a bit with me. It let me almost forget everything for a minute. And since this might be my last night on earth, or at least anything I ever knew, I'm glad it was like this. Just sharing some music with a pretty girl. Sharing some stories. I didn't realize how much I just wanted to have that in life, you know, until now. I guess, like, what it might feel like to have a girlfriend. So, thank you. I mean—" he stammered. "Not that you're my girlfriend. I mean, you're my friend, who's a girl, but I guess what I meant was what it would feel like to have a girlfriend, but like, I know you're not my—"

"I love how you like me," you said. "It's okay. I understand what you mean. I guess I kinda thought this is what it would feel like to have a boyfriend too. You know, aside from the vampires and demon gods and stuff." Eddie flashed his megawatt smile, and your heart jumped. "It just feels so easy to hang out with you. Like I've known you a long time."

"Yeah, it does for me too." Eddie leaned over you, and you felt his hair like curtains around both your faces.

His pillow lips found yours. Something tasted primal, like the bite of a feral animal. Metallic, but sweet.

Eddie's body flooded with warm relief, and forgetting, and passion. Something like happiness, or maybe peace.

Eddie reached out to put his arms around you, but the front door flung open.

~

"Eddie?!" Steve Harrington stood in the doorway, incredulous.

"Harrington!" Eddie jumped up and embraced Steve in a generous hug.

"Wow, thanks! I just can't believe you're alive. Dustin told us you were dead.

"Yeah, I don't really know what happened. It gets kinda blurry after that. Apparently two weeks later, I woke up in my old bed. Yesterday morning. And then started seeing some crazy shit happening like before Vecna murdered his victims. Whole town, this time though," Eddie said.

"Nancy told us everything," Steve said. "We all did our songs in the car on the way over. Everyone's recovering their memories now. The whole town is in a trance. You're Nancy's friend? I'm Steve." Steve motions at you.

"Yeah, we had a few classes together before I graduated and moved. It's nice to meet you," you said.

"Okay, well, we've got uh, Erica, Robin, Jonathan, Will, Mike. Lucas wanted to stay with Max at the hospital once he realized what's going on. Hopper's there too, with Eleven. Joyce is getting some supplies. Everybody's listened to their songs. Sometimes it's a bit foggy, but we're coming back."

"Eleven said she wasn't affected by the trance. But she said she felt something new. Something... dark," said Mike. "She said this was different from Vecna."

"What the hell happened to you, Eddie?" Erica asked.

Everyone looked at him.

He put his jacket back on, and sat down next to you.

"Like Dustin said. The bats got me. I was gone. And the next thing I knew, I woke up yesterday morning in my bed, and two weeks had passed."

"Two weeks," Nancy said to herself, thinking and pacing.

"You have no idea what happened, literally that entire time? Not even bits or pieces?" Asked Robin.

"That's not the worst part," you said.

"What the hell's the worst part?" Jonathan asked.

"Vecna wants me this time. But not to kill me. At least, I don't think. He said... come with me me into the shadow lands of night, where I will make you a King. Refuse, and I burn Hawkins into..." he trailed off.

"Scorched Hell on Earth, with your friends left to burn alive," you complete the sentence. "With their parents, and their little brothers and sisters, and everyone you've ever known.

"Whoa. What the hell?" Erica asked. "Why does he want you to be his King?"

"Something about those two weeks in the upside-down must have given him some kind of power," Nancy said. "Something that Vecna wants. Something Vecna doesn't have."

"Like what?" Asked Mike.

"What's happening to your nose, Eddie?" You asked.

Eddie looked up. It was bleeding. "Shit, oh shit, oh shit, uh, one sec," he said, running for a tissue.

"Call Eleven," Steve said. "And Dustin," Mike said.

~

"Okay, I think I have this figured out. We have two lines, and three phones in this house. There's two phone jacks in this room. We can have one of each lines in here," Mike said, "And we'll just leave them turned like this," he flips one of the phones and nests it across from the other, "so they can hear each other and our conversation in the room."

"Jesus," Steve said.

"Jesus," Robin repeated.

"I hope this works," you said. Eddie was quiet. Mike dialed the numbers.

~

"Wait, you're telling me that you think this guy is a vampire?" Asks Hopper. "But he's like, the key to saving everybody, because we can use him to get at Vecna somehow. Hey, don't you think we need to call Eleven's people and get them involved in this? This needs the military or something."

"It won't work," Eleven said. "Vecna is weak, but we can't trust anyone. It has to be us. And Eddie is the ... thing I've been feeling. Whatever bit him, created something ... evil. I think Vecna wants to use him to turn everyone in Hawkins into a vampire, under his trance. He showed Nancy and I his plan before. He's raising an army."

"And he wants me to lead it," Eddie said. "You guys think if I buy you some time, you can kill this thing? Like, for real this time?" Eddie was slumped over. Demoralized.

"We have to," Dustin said. "We don't have a choice. We can't let you be taken by this asshole, and turned into a freak!"

"Oh, I'm already a freak," Eddie said, fishing in his pocket for a lighter.

"Eddie, that's not what I meant. You have some kind of supernatural strength right now. Vecna is weakened. He wants you to be his general because he is too weak to do it. You can buy us time and figure out if you have some kind of powers. Can you move things with your mind like Eleven?" Dustin asked.

"Uh, I don't... think so. Hold on, lemme try," Eddie said.

Everyone stood still, and the phones were quiet. He squinted his eyes and looked at the television. The volume was low.

"Is he..." Robin started.

"Shh," Nancy said.

"Sorry," Robin replied.

Eddie continued to focus intently. The channel blipped once. Then again. It blipped a few times.

"Ohmygod, I did that! I did that!" Eddie said. "Holy shit. Holy shit!"

"Holy shit!" Dustin said on the phone.

"Wait, you did what?" Hopper asked.

"He made it blip." Eleven said.

"He made it... blip," Steve said.

"Am I the only person who thinks making a tv blip is not enough of a superpower to defeat the evil dark world demon god?" Robin asked.

"Okay, okay, look, it's a start. I dunno what he wants with me. I'm gonna try to hold him off to avert anything, you know, apocalyptic. In the meantime, you guys take your superpowers friend Eleven and figure it out!" Eddie stormed out of the house, lighting a cigarette on the porch.

"I think that went well," said Hopper.

"Crap, did he leave?" Asked Dustin.

"Yes," everyone said.

~

Eddie takes a long drag from his cigarette when you come out onto the porch. The lake is a crystalline, sparkling aquamarine. He wipes his nose.

"I feel like I'm falling apart," he said, his voice cracking.

"Eddie, I'm so sorry," you hug him and he embraces you deeply, falling into your arms. He cries softly. "I'm gonna hold him off. I don't know how. But I'm not gonna let go. I'm gonna hold on. You're right. There's gotta be another way. I trust you guys."

You took a deep breath and turned your mouth to his ear. "I know I only just met you and your friends, but I think it's gonna be okay. It has to be. And you have such a fire in you. I saw it before. Before all this. Years ago, when we were freshmen. I don't think you remember. But I do. We were in art class together. You used to draw all these amazing dragons. I loved watching you draw. You made everyone laugh. I saw the fire in you then. You were just... so alive. And free. Don't let go of that. You have to hold onto it. Don't let go of who you are, Eddie Munson. Promise me."

"I promise," Eddie said, pulling away to look at you. "I promise to hold on. No one has ever said things like that to me before. I want to believe you're right about me. So I'm gonna try. I promise. I'll hold o—"

Eddie started into a coughing fit, interrupting his thoughts. He stumbled backwards, out of your reach, and collapsed.

Chapter 5 coming soon...

#eddie munson #eddie my beloved #eddie munson fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things 4 #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #eddie munson smut #smut #smutty #SoundCloud #Spotify

[gotham-ruaidh]

Little Bit Better Than I Used To Be

Catch up: Chapter 1 (Starry Eyes) || Chapter 2 (Save Our Souls) || Chapter 3 (Dancing On Glass) || Chapter 4 (Merry-Go-Round) || Backstage (1) || Backstage (2) || Chapter 5 (Danger) || Backstage (3) || Chapter 6A (Love Walked In) || Chapter 6B (Without You) || Backstage (4) || Chapter 7 (Stick To Your Guns) || Chapter 8 (Time For Change) || Backstage (5) || Chapter 9 (Take Me To The Top) || Backstage (6) |I| Also posted at AO3

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Chapter 10: Home Sweet Home

Take me to your heart // Feel me in your bones // Just one more night // And I'm coming off this long and winding road // I'm on my way // I'm on my way Home sweet home...

Soundtrack: “Home Sweet Home,” Mötley Crüe, 1987 [click here to listen]

Dr. Quentin Lambert Beauchamp, aged seventy-four, carefully exited the limousine through the door held open by the driver.

“Thanks again,” he remarked quietly.

“That way,” the driver pointed. Lamb saw a piece of colorful paper with an arrow and the word CREW, pointing toward an open door.

As he approached, a huge, bulky man emerged from inside.

“Got a pass?”

Lamb offered the laminated card he’d received via messenger that morning. The man squinted at it. “Friends and family – OK, let me take you myself.”

Lamb had never been behind the scenes at the Boston Garden – or at any arena, for that manner – and the sheer number of people scurrying to and fro was incredible.

Men hauling loops of wire.

Construction workers in hard hats.

Stacks and stacks of black crates with PRINT stenciled in six inch letters.

People with clipboards and walkie talkies.

Everyone was smiling. Especially Lamb – not caring how out of place he looked in his professor’s chinos and oxford shirt.

They turned a corner into a corridor, with several doors that were clearly dressing rooms. The man turned to Lamb. “Wait here. There’s a lounge with food and drinks, but I don’t think it’s open yet.”

“That’s quite all right. I don’t want to be in anyone’s way – ”

“LAMB!”

The older man turned, only to get swept into a bear hug and off of his feet.

“Oof! Easy!”

Jamie Fraser – shirtless and in black leather pants, with black streaks smudged beneath his eyes – grinned. “So great to see you! We’ve really been looking forward to having you here.”

Lamb flushed. “Well, the pleasure is all mine. I must say that it’s a bit different from the academic conferences that I’m used to.”

Jamie shook his head and placed his hands on his hips, the swirls of tattoos covering his arms dark in the half-light backstage. “I bet. Hey, do you want some earplugs? I’m told the shows can be kind of loud.”

Lamb patted his shirt pocket. “Brought some. I do want to be able to hear tomorrow, you know.”

“LAMB!”

He whirled to see his dearly beloved niece – glowing in a denim jacket and white t-shirt and ripped jeans – and he bent to give her a hug.

“Oh, my dear! I’m so excited to be here!”

She pulled back, still smiling, and sank against her husband’s shoulder. He held her close and kissed the crown of her head.

“Hey, do you want to stand side stage with me during the show? You can sit, if you want – I know your knee isn’t the best. Jamie can rustle up some chairs. So we can be together, if you want?”

Lamb nodded. “That would be fantastic. Jamie, I’ve been listening to all of your records these past few days, to prepare myself for tonight.”

“Uh-oh,” he laughed. “Should I be worried?”

“Certainly not. You’re quite the gifted musician, but I’ve known that since I met you. And I must say that your newest album is your best.”

Jamie flushed. “Well, your niece is the woman who inspired all of it. So of course it’s great.”

Claire playfully swatted his shoulder. “Flatterer.”

“Yeah, well. We open the show with the title track. Billboard says it’s been number one in the country for five weeks now.”

Lamb smiled. “With a title like She’s My Addiction, and with people learning about your and Claire’s story – I’m not surprised.”

“OK, people. Ten minutes to showtime.” A balding man with a headset and clipboard appeared. “Do you need help finding side stage?”

“Actually, Tom, can you show my uncle where we’ll be sitting? I just realized I forgot something in Jamie’s dressing room.” Quietly Claire slipped her thumb over the side of Jamie’s pants, digging her thumbnail into his hipbone, relishing his shiver.

Tom nodded. “Sure – this way, sir. Ten minute warning.”

“Got it. See you later, Lamb!”

And with that Jamie and Claire quickly disappeared into his dressing room. Lamb heard the lock turn.

Tom sighed. “Every damn night, those two.”

Lamb smiled. “There are far worse things. Show me to my seat?”

~~~FIN~~~

#outlander #outlander fanfic #little bit better than i used to be

[mashedpotittiess]

Arrangements Ch 1

Title: Arrangements. Chapter Title: It’s just a little crush.

Pairing: Lim Sejun x Reader. Mentions of Choi Byungchan and non mentions of Do Hanse, Heo Chan, Kang Seungsik, Han Seungwoo and Jun Subin as well as OC’s.

Summary: He was the aggravating fuckboy roommate of your best friends but maybe that’s what caused you to agree to such an arrangement. But will the arrangement work out? Between mutual friends, his other hookups and a certain romantic interest on your part, this could all be trouble.

Words: 6,500

Rating: PG13 but will eventually become M

Genre for this Chapter: College! au, Angst.

Tags/Warnings: Drinking, Mentions of sexual scenarios, mentions of possible drug use (a roofie), Mentions of someone possibly wanting to take advantage of someone (While Nothing happens I need to put this as a warning as it can trigger some past experiences readers have had)

Fic Series inspired Playlist Link:

Taglist: @a-mess-of-fandoms @dnyad

——————————-

You hated Lim Sejun and his band of one night stands. Before anybody assumes it’s a case of “oh she has it bad for him and she’s just jealous” you were in no way into him like that and in no way jealous of the Grey haired man you dubbed ‘FookBoi’ nor his female companions. He simply cramped your style.

When he moved into your best friends apartment as a third roommate you thought you’d have the same dynamic with your friends that you had had for about a year before his sudden appearance. But you were sorely mistaken.

It was Friday night and you had your body sprawled over the deep grey fabric of the couch with your sock covered feet lying on your best friend Do Hanses blanket covered lap. Byungchan had occupied the black leather like single seat to your right and you all were currently debating on whether or not twins were creepy. The debate brought to you by you all watching The Shining once again.

“How could you even think twins are creepy? It’s clearly just the matching outfits with the head tilting that eludes to the creepy factor” you were thrown into a fit of laughter as Hanse imitated the twin’s expression when Johnny first saw them, his lip ring glinting in the soft shadows of the single lit lamp to his right. Byungchans dimples were on full display as he couldn’t help but laugh as well. You really did try not to blush at his adorable face. You had a thing for one of your best friends and you couldn’t help it, your small crush had existed for around 8 months are you knew it was a matter of time before it was known.

You were admiring his soft contours of his face down to his defined jawline and back up to lip plump lips curled upward around his teeth as his focus was still on Hanses face when the front door slammed open causing you three to jump in surprise. Hanse grabbed your feet as if to use your unicorn print covered appendages to shield himself from the big scary monster he assumed had not only come through his front door but also used a key.

As you tore your gaze away from the man you had been admiring you looked up to see Lim Sejun walking passed the back of the couch with some blonde traipsing her body on his ebony leather jacket covered shoulder. He threw you a smirk as he had undoubtedly witnessed your admiration for his roommate. “Enjoy your movie” was all that left his lips before you heard a woman’s giggle and the closing of his door followed by a hard thump.

Pulling your feet back to your body you crossed your soft cotton short covered legs and snatched a fist full of buttery salty popcorn from the shared bowl in the center of the dark wooden coffee table situated in front of you. Hanse pulled the off white blanket closer to his body and used a black nail polish covered finger to press play on your movie. As you took another bite full of popcorn your munching was cut short by a woman moaning a loud “Unngh yes Daddy” Choking on the salty kernels your face took on a sour expression and you turned to see Hanse grimace and Byungchan blush a bright crimson followed by a shake of his head.

The sounds of what started as a soft mumbling were turning into a shrieking of sorts causing you and your best friends to stand up together and make a beeline to Hanses bedroom. You all knew it would be no use to higher the television to try and drown out the sounds of pleasure the two people in the room next to the living room were feeling. Clutching your beloved popcorn and fizzy coke you settled yourself in the middle of the light blue jersey sheet covered bed. Hanse with the fuzzy blanket from the living room took up the space to your right and Byungchan settled himself on your left, his long legs sprawled out, his green and yellow parakeet printed socks causing you to smile softly.

With a few clicks of the remote the movie had been ready to be continued but before you could immerse yourself into the infamous “Redrum” scene, Hanse decided to look you straight in the eyes and with an obnoxiously loud screech he let out a “ HOOOYAH D A D D Y.” His eyes rolling back into his skull. Fake gagging you shook your head and slapped his tattoo covered shoulder over his thin tank top. “I fucking hate you sometimes.”

Curling yourself into your oversized hoodie you got comfortable with both of your best friends, settling yourselves once again into weekly movie night. As the movie played you were brought back to what had just happened in the living room. While this certainly wasn’t the first time your plans were ruined by Mr ‘Fookboi’ himself, it still irked you. You knew this wasn’t your apartment and you had no say what happened around here but you missed the fun times you three had had without the possibility of hearing ridiculously loud sex take over the three bedroom apartment at any time of the day or night.

Hell, before Sejun moved in, the boys had shared an apartment with a man named Seungsik. He was genuinely nice and even joined in for a couple of your movie nights. It was peaceful and the only loud banging happened in the apartment was when Hanse attempted to make cookies and the clanging of pots and pans that most certainly weren’t used in baking resounded throughout the shared space. But that peace was cut short when Seungsik accepted a study abroad opportunity and Sejun occupied his space.

You spent about 4 days out of the week here and you swore there was a new female face that accompanied Sejun almost every one of those days for the passed six months that he had been living here. You were in no way sex shaming him as you believed everyone can do whatever they wanted with their own bodies but his choice in woman was sometimes infuriating. They held no respect that this was a shared apartment and it showed.

From the Brunette last week who had walked around in nothing but a towel while you helped Hanse study for his Psych midterm to the Blonde the week prior that you caught using YOUR purple toothbrush that you had left in one of the two bathrooms for nights you slept over. Like who the fuck uses a toothbrush that isn’t theirs? As you had taken in her party dress which you assumed she had been wearing earlier in the night when she followed Sejun to his room passing you and Byungchan grimacing over Hanses attempt at baking  muffins, covered frame and her makeup smudged eyes, your eyes narrowed in on your toothbrush between her pink stained lips.

“Excuse me, that’s my toothbrush” you said with a grimace on your face as she leaned down to spit the toothpaste that had been sloshing in her mouth into the sink, the white fluid making its way down the drain. “hmm? oh here” was all she replied before placing the toothbrush in your palm. It still had toothpaste on it and it took everything in you to not throw the toothbrush at her and go full on hulk mode.

Then there was the Red head a few days ago that you knew as Cynthia from your shared Calculus class. You had been making dinner for your best friends that had been having a difficult school week. Walking into the apartment with the the bags full of groceries using your key the boys had given you, you set the canvas bags onto the white counter before organizing them into piles of what needed to be made in order from first to last. Pulling together the pots and pans you needed your thoughts were interrupted by a high pitched whine and the sounds of a bed thumping against a wall. Glancing towards the door you saw what appeared to be a woman’s taupe coat. Shaking your head you let out a disgusted ‘gross’ and pulled up your Spotify playlist hoping it would drown out some of the sounds coming from the occupied bedroom.

Throwing the tomatoes and onions into a pan you let them sauté until they were caramelized and got started on putting together the garlic butter for the fresh baked french bread you scored at the grocery store. Grooving to your music, you went along with your chopping of vegetables for the salad followed by dumping a box of penne into the salted water you had prepared. Spreading the herby garlic spread onto the soft doughy bread you plopped it into the oven and checked your pasta.

‘Buss it Buss it Buss it Buss it’ came through the speaker of your phone and you let your body do a little twerk as you plated the penne a la vodka, salad and finally the warm garlic bread fresh from the oven, turning around you checked to make sure everything was turned off and grabbed your phone to check the time. “They should be home soon” you mused and poured yourself a glass of ice water. ’Is you FUCKIN’ yelling the fuckin part you wiggled your hips as you sipped your water and turned around when the sound of crunching put a halt in your boppin.

Your jaw twitched as you took in the Red head leaning against the island counter with a piece of garlic bread between her smeared lipstick covered lips. The smell of roasted garlic and tomato sauce hung in the air as you stepped towards the female eating the food you had just made.

“That food isn’t for you, you do know it’s rude to just eat what someone else had made without asking right?” you furrowed your brows at her and extended a hand towards the rest of what you had plated up. Leaning her head against her left palm she licked her lips clean of what looked like breadcrumbs and smiled. “Aww, were you making a meal for Sejunnie? if so, I can assure you this won’t get him into your pants, not when he has a lady like me right here. But it’s cute that you tried.” Opening your mouth ready to ask her what the literal fuck she was talking about, Cynthia moved her elbow along the counter followed by a ‘oops’ and a shrug of her shoulder.

Looking down at the tray that had skidded across the wooden floor when her elbow knocked down your garlic bread just milliseconds ago you let out an annoyed “are you fucking kidding me?” Looking unaffected, Cynthia shrug her pale pink covered shoulders at you and licked her index finger of what looked like garlic butter. Leaning down with a bend of your knees you started to pile the bread you now had to throw out onto the faux marble tray that balances itself in your left hand. You grit your teeth stopping yourself from saying much else knowing that it wouldn’t do a thing. Knees knocking against the floor as you reached for a piece that had gone under the counter, before you could grasp it between your deep purple nail polished fingers, a pale hand reached out and placed it down onto your tray.

Looking up your eyes met Sejuns light grey contact covered gaze and you shook your head head towards the woman he had just been fucking. “Some company you keep” you mumbled to him before standing up, lavender slipper covered feet coming into contact with the dark wooden floor. As the door clicked open you were met with an enthusiastic“y/n did you cook? your’e the BEST.” Hanse stepped through the threshold of the open plan kitchen and took in the scene. You with a tray of what looked like garlic bread, a furious gaze in your eyes, Sejun with his hand extended towards you and a red head smacking her lips along a napkin.

“Um what happened?” left Hanses lips as you tossed the food that had been in your hand into the trash and got to work looking for the swiffer they kept in a linen closet close to the kitchen. Your ears picked up on what sounded like Sejun saying out a soft yet firm “I called you an uber, they’re here already” followed by a sickeningly sweet “But Sejunnie we could spend more time together.” Rolling your eyes you entered the kitchen once again and wiped the wet wipe along the grease covered floor. “Domestic, cute” Looking up you stepped towards the red haired female ready to throw hands. You were beyond tired of her shit and weren’t going to take anymore. She fucked with food, precious FOOD.

“I told you to leave already” Sejun grabbed Cynthias elbow and guided her towards the front door. “But, ugh fine. Call me later?” she asked and he just shrugged his shoulder while walking her to the elevator.

Angrily throwing the swiffer pad into the trash you thrust the mop to Hanse to put away and bounded to the sink to wash your hands. “I fucking can’t stand people like her, Sejun needs to filter out the bitches from his list of hookups. I swear to god dealing with someone like her is not worth getting your dick wet.” You shouted and Hanse pat your back.

Byungchan’s soft head of hair leaning on your shoulder brought you back to reality and you sighed shaking the thoughts of Sejuns hookups out of your mind to focus on the movie that was almost finished. Looking to your left you smiled softly at the dimpled boys sleeping face. Hanse shifted on you right to pull his blanket closer to his body.

While Hanse was still awake you knew it would be a few minutes before he completely passed out like the sweetheart to your left had. Sitting up carefully you leaned Byungchans head onto a pillow and brought the comforter up his body while Hanse curled into himself mumbling a “you can sleep here or take Channies bed.” Shaking your head you let him know you’d be taking the couch as you tucked the bowl of kernels under your arm and balanced two glasses between your fingers of your fight hand as you maneuvered your way out of his room and to the kitchen. The soft lighting over the stove illuminated your trek to the kitchen and you spotted Sejun in a pair of joggers and an oversized pale blue t shirt sipping a glass of what looked like water.

Moving passed him you dumped the remnants of the kernels into the trash and carefully plopped the dishes into the sink to his right. To your left his eyes followed your movements as you cleaned up. “I’m sleeping on the couch so if you’re going for round two with whatever her name is, please keep it down.” you grumbled without looking at him and you made your way to the couch you had spent many a nights on. From the open kitchen you heard him shift as he placed the glass he had been drinking out of into the sink. “She left already, goodnight y/n” he responded and walked the few steps to his room, his door softly closing behind him and you shut your eyes, pulling the blue blanket that had been on the end of Hanses bed and you had snatched, closer to your body letting sleep overtake your tired brain.

The smell of sizzling bacon and warm butter invading your nostrils sending your senses in an uproar and your body to slowly open your eyes. Sitting up you still clutched the blanket you had been using tight around your body in a makeshift cocoon. Gaze scanning the kitchen behind the couch you were sitting on you watched as Sejun joked with Hanse while preparing the bacon that was sizzling in the pan below him. Hanse was mixing up more pancake batter and Byungchan was finishing a flip on the duo of cakes bubbling up in the pan he had been working with.

You could almost curse your stomach as an obscenely loud grumbled was heard in the open space causing all three boys to turn around and take in your messy bun that more like a turd flopping atop your head and your mascara slightly smudged under your eyes. Raising your left hand into what looked like a small wave you heard Hanse laugh loudly causing you to smile. “The Princess is awake” with a stern look in your eyes his smiled widened “I forgot y/n hates being called Princess, EHEM my queen.” Standing up you stretched your arms over your head and arched your back hearing the muscles pop from lying in the same position for too long.

Trudging towards the bathroom, you abandoned the blanket on the kitchen island on your way there. As you took in in your appearance in the bathroom mirror while you let the water warm you shrugged. Your best friends had seen you look a lot worse.

As you smoothed the foaming cleanser onto your hands and over your face you let out a soft sigh in content. Reaching into the cabinet under the sink you pulled your small body of makeup remover you had stashed there and massaged it onto your eyes to cleanly remove any remnants of eye makeup. Letting the warm water rinse your face of all impurities you got to work on bushing your teeth with your N E W purple toothbrush.

Letting your hair loose from its turd like confines, you softly ran what you knew as Hanses brush over your locks and shuffled back into the kitchen after your bathroom escapades were done with.

Tucking your hair behind your ears you poured yourself a glass of cold OJ and watched as the men finished with their Gordan Ramsey like cosplay of cooking. Giggling to yourself as the visual of Gordan Ramseys face on your friends bodies overtook you.

When you noticed the boys were just about done preparing the food you pulled plates from the cabinet and paired them with silverware for all four persons. A comfortable silence surrounding the room as you all piled your plates with food and made your way to the dining table to the left of the kitchen.

“Thanks for the food” you smiled out while cutting into your fluffy pancakes earning a wide from Hanse, a smile from Byungchan and a nod of your welcome from Sejun. Plopping a piece into your mouth you almost moaned at the warm syrupy goodness that coated your tongue, you could take the vanilla Hanses flavored the cakes with.

For the most part you all had ate in silence with the exception of Sejun and Byungchan talking about the college Basketball team Byungchan was on.

You had offered to do the dishes in repayment for the delicious breakfast the boys had cooked up and joined in on the conversation that took place in the living room when you had finished. Settling yourself on the cushion next to Hanse you let him ruffle your hair and leaned your head on his shoulder.

Hanse was like the brother you never had, you had known him since your first year of college, you small body nervous as all hell when you walked into your first Literature class of the year. Sitting next to you he had struck up a conversation when he took in the crescent moon earring dangling from your double helix piercing on your right ear.

From then on you all had become great friends, you had liked the same music and enjoyed some of the same aesthetics. A couple of months later you all had stumbled upon Byungchan at a frat party and a conversation about Liquor vs Beer ensued in the comfort of the lit kitchen. Before you knew it you all had drug your asses to waffle house for 4am food to nourish your alcohol filled bodies. You both becoming fast friends with the tall teddybear of a man.

A year later and the two men rented an apartment together inspired by the fact that you had been living in an apartment with your roommate since the middle of your freshman year. They had invited you to be their third roommate but you were on a multi-year lease and to be honest, you didn’t mind your roommate. You loved your friends but you liked being able to come home when you needed alone time or just girl time. Lately you had been spending more time at your best friends house due to your roommate having her boyfriend over a lot more before he graduated later this year and you wanted to give them alone time.

Musing to yourself on how grateful you were for their friendship you took in the effortless conversation between all three men. You knew they had been friends with Sejun for sometimes prior to him moving in but you hadn’t really taken in how friendly they were all with each other. You had to admit it put the moving mattress of a man in a new light.

“Favorite Nirvana song..3..2…1.” Hanse blurted out. All together four answers were heard at once “Lithium” you heard Hanse shout which you had already known. “All Apologies” Byungchan smiled and “Come as you are!” you and to your surprise Sejun yelled at once. “oof we have a tie.” Hanse said followed by a “Okay, okay.. Favorite BEYONCE song 3…2…1”

“Wait wait, Beyonce solo or Destinys Child included cause that’s a whole other convo” you added in before anybody could answer before taking a sip of your ice water and roaming your feet into the blanket you had been using. “Solo Beyonce” Hanse answered before shouting his countdown once again.

“Crazy in love OG version” Hanse shouted, “Formation” was Byungchans answer. “Irreplaceable” Sejun answered while tilting his head onto his palm with his elbow resting on the arm of the couch to your left. “If I were a boy” you smiled at the lyrics invading your thoughts. “But seriously Yonce is a fucking icon and you can’t just pick one song, that’s like ILLEGAL!” you added which earned claps from your best friends and a genuine smile from Sejun causing you to cock an eyebrow at his dimples cheeks.

The familiar ding of your phone signaled a text and you entered your password into the drive while vaguely listening to what the three men were talking about. Sending a message in reply to your friend and classmate Haley you tossed your phone back onto the coffee table in front of you and leaned back onto the comfy cushions behind you. “Oh shit y/n I almost forgot! Heo Chan’s frat is having a party tonight and i’m making you come with” The inky haired man to your right said with a clap of his hands, his rings clanking against each other. “Oddly enough that’s what Haley was texting me about and I already agreed to go with her since i’m obviously the best wingman ever. I also love how you weren’t planning on giving me a choice on going.”

“I wasn’t giving you a choice because I knew you couldn’t say no to this face” with a pucker of his pink lips, Hanse folded his fingers under his chin leaning closer to your face in a mock pout. Rolling your eyes you flick his slightly exposed forehead with a painted index finger. “Yeah yeah yeah.”

“Byungchannies going too and I think Sejun may show up too” Hanse added and you nodded. You knew Byungchan would go, with him being good friends with Chan and Seungwoo from Lambda Tau Nu or VTN for short. Sejun going came as no shock to you either knowing the amount of girls that would be wanting him to go with them and of course leave with them as well.

Checking the time on your apple watch linked onto your wrist with its black leather strap, you stood up throwing the blanket that kept your legs warm onto Hanses lap and grabbed your phone while looking for your slippers you had worn there. It was a little passed two in the afternoon and you knew you need to go home, shower and then later prep for the party. “Imma head out to freshen up, see you later. Hanse you picking me up?” with an of course heaving your best friends mouth you left the comfort of the three mens apartment and heading off to your own.

Smoothing your warm vanilla and rose body oil over your freshly shaven legs you checked your phone noting you had a little over an hour to finish getting ready before Hanse and byungchan would be pounding on your door. You had just finished pulling your black satin bra and panty set when your doorbell sounded off. Wrapping your fluffy white robe close to your body you opened the door to a smiling Haley who was carrying what you presumed to be her “getting ready shit” and a bottle of Svedka.

“Pre game sweets” she said when she caught you glancing down to the bottle clutched between her fingers. With a slight smile and a shake of your head, you both headed towards your room to finish getting ready.

Checking her ass in the mirror, Haley gave a little booty jiggle in her skin tight taupe body con dress that accentuated her deep mocha colored skin. You had just finished styling your straight hair with some silkening gloss when Hanses called signaling them leaving their apartment and heading towards yours. Sliding your feet into your black suede high heeled ankle booties you smacked your medium toned nude lipstick covered lips and followed Haley into the kitchen.

When the boys got there Haley demanded a pre game shot and you all but obliged. With a slam of the clear shot glass onto the faux marble counter you all headed out, following Hanse to his small Silver SUV.

Pulling up to the long street of parked cars in front of the VTN house you shook your head at the seemingly already drunk couples making out in the bushes and a half naked guy running down the lawn with a V painted onto his chest in what looked like red lipstick.

Entering through the oak double doors behind Byungchan you squeezed his shoulder as he maneuvered you all through the crowded entrance. Settling on a quieter side of what you knew from a few parties here as the living room, Byungchan excused himself to bring you all some drinks and you surveyed the area you were in. A couple of kegs were a few feet to your left where some guy you recognized as Subin was performing a keg stand. The two couches and coffee table were pushed closer near a wall where the stairs leading to the second floor bedrooms was to make the makeshift dance floor where bodies were rhythmically shaking the hips. Behind you to your right was the brightly lit kitchen when bottles lined the counters and bags of chips were strewn everywhere.

As you surveyed the kitchen you noticed Byungchan talking to a girl you knew as Emi. Byunchans dimples were on full display as he laughed at whatever she had been saying causing a soft bloom of rose to flush onto her pale cheeks. Leaning down to stir her drink her light brown hair fell slightly over her face to which Byungchan leaned forward and swiped his fingers over her forehead and still blushing cheeks to tuck her shoulder length hair behind her right ear. Noticing your gaze, Hanse chimed in “Oooooooh is Channie finally making a move on Emi? He’s been into her for like a month now” Whipping your hair around towards the tattooed man your deep brown smokey eyeshadow covered eyes widened slightly.

“He what now? How did I not know about this?” Hanse furrowed his eyebrow at your seemingly upset look and Haley cleared her throat. Haley had been the only person who knew about your crush on your friend from a night of one too many Vodka Tonics and Tequila shots. “I only knew about it cause I caught him shooting her google eyes and I asked him what was up until he fessed up.. why do you look? wait..y/n did you?” With a tick of your jaw you shook you head pleading with him not to continue his question.

“Since when?” was all he asked and you softly told him the answer. “But it’s fine, I honestly didn’t think much would come from it. I wasn’t sure how our friendship and the dynamic would work if we ever got together” You ran your thumb along the hem of your black and deep green plaid skirt. “It’s for the best, I’m glad he looks happy.” you were being honest, you wanted your friends to be happy and that’s all that had mattered to you. Yes you were a little heart broken but it was better than him finding out about your crush and you getting rejected then, or you all getting together then later breaking up and you losing one of your best friends and Hanse being stuck in the middle of his two best friends.

With an are you sure? Hanse headed off to the kitchen when you nodded your head and sighed. “God you’re such a good person babe, I would’ve been like ‘HELL NO IM NOT OKAY I AM A HEARTBROKEN WOMAN ON THE VERGE OF A MELTDOWN’” Haley whisper screamed into your ear and you felt yourself smiling at her over dramatic theater kid self.

“Ugh Chan looks so good” biting her deep fuchsia colored lips Haley wiggled her eyebrows and you shook your head. You knew she was staring at his ass in those tight light wash jeans as he talked to Hanse and Byingchan in the kitchen.

“Oh shit he’s coming over here” Fluffing her black shoulder length curled hair Haley pushed her boobs out by straitening her back causing you to giggle and accept the drink Hanse handed you. “Hey Haley hey y/n” Chan smiled causing adorable dimples to grace his cheeks. ‘Do all these men have dimples or what?’ you thought and shook your head slightly.

With a hello and a thank you for invited us you let Haley grab all of Chans attention with a conversation about Musicals. Hanse caught on to what you were doing and stepped further away from the two, taking you with him.

You had been talking to Hanse about Haley and Chan when Byungchan stepped in front of you both with Emi right behind him. “Hey guys, this is Emi” Hanse smiled and gave her a little wave. Suppressing your urge to be jealous and petty you took a deep breath and nodded towards her “Hi” leaving your lips. As Byunghcan talked to you both about how sweet Emi was and how they had been talking but it hadn’t been anything serious, you gripped your glass in your right hand and tilted your head back drinking all of its contents in one go. The familiar warm burn of alcohol siding down your throat and distracting you from Byuns dimples as he spoke so highly of the female clutching onto his right arm.

Taking in the girls pale blue satin liken dress and beige sweater handing off of her arms you had to admit she seemed nice, very demure and soft spoken but nice. “You’re so pretty, Byungchan didn’t do you justice when he told me about his best friends” Emi genuinely smiled at you and you thanked her. Needing a refill of your drink you excused yourself and headed towards the kitchen.

Setting your glass on the counter you got to work mixing Rum and a splash of coke. Taking your first sip you nodded and hummed at the taste. If you were going to deal with your crush and best friend finding a girlfriend you definitely needed something strong. Taking another sip you leaned your hip against the counters and slowly moved your head in a circle to relieve the tension you had been building up. You felt your body starting to heat up from the amount of bodies in the house and the alcohol flowing freely through your veins as you finished your second drink with a long chug.

Shrugging your oversized medium blue denim jacket off of your shoulder you looked for a suitable place to hide it from partygoers. Situating your jacket behind bottles of soap under the sink you made a note on your phone letting you know where you hide it in case you forgot and needed to retrieve it the next day.

Pouring yourself another drink you capped the Rum when you were done and sighed as the breeze from the overhead vent licked against your skin in your black crop top and plaid skirt. “Damn, now that’s a drink” came from your left causing your to look up with an arch of one of your eyebrows. Liam Martinez stood in front of you with a smile of his pearly whites and you couldn’t help but smile back. You recognized the Wide Receiver of your college football as you shared a literary course with him. You actually also shared that class with Sejun as well.

“Want one?” you asked with a smile to which he shifted closer to you and handed you his red cup. “Yes ma’am” you opened the same bottle you had been using and started pouring it into his glass, followed by a splash of the open coke to your right. Scooping a bit of ice from the bag in the sink into his glass you handed it back to him which he accepted gratefully.

“So, what’re you doing here? or better question, why are you drinking alone in a kitchen full of bottles?” Leaning your hip against the counter you quirked you lip slightly over you glass. “Well if anybody was drinking wouldn’t it be better to drink in a room full of bottles?” Chuckling at your retort Liam placed a hand on the counter and sipped his drink waiting for you to continue. “But if you must know, I finished my drink my friend made me and came to make another, plus they were having a convo I didn’t really feel like being a part of” you let the last bit slip out with a shrug of your shoulders.

With a ‘hmm’ in acknowledgment you two started a pretty nice conversation about your shared class and the frat house you were currently in which Liam had been a part of. Feeling the buzz flowing through your body you accepted his offer when he asked you to dance.

With your hand tucked into his you made your way to the dance floor and wrapped your arms around his neck as the music thumped around you. Settling his hands on your hips he pulled you closer to him, swaying your bodies to rhythm of the bass. Under the soft lights in the dark living room Liams light brown hair shined. Liams hands trailed up and down your hips, eventually turning you around pulling your back into his white t shirt and blue plaid covered chest feeling his muscles rippling against your back.

Leaning your head back onto his chest you ground your hips back into his and smirked. The alcohol coursing through your veins lending confidence to your dance moves as your began to grind with him in the middle of the other swaying dance partners crowding the space.

Another song came to a finish and you felt your body heating up tremendously. With a huff of air escaping your parted semi glossy lips, you knew you needed water and as Liams fingers grazed up your left thigh you excused yourself telling him you’d be right back but he had insisted on going with you.

Reaching the kitchen you looked for a clean empty cup to be the vessel that you needed to quench your thirst and hopefully cool your body down. Liam handed you an opaque red cup from the stack of downturned cups and you poured yourself some water from the fridge and took a long sip relishing in the fresh cool liquid cooling your body down and causing a small shiver.

“Hey can you pass me a coke from the fridge?” The taller man in font of you asked as you were closer to the fridge than he was and you nodded thinking nothing of it. Opening the metal fridge you looked around on the middle shelf before your eyes landed on the signature red cans, plucking one from the shelf you turned and stepped your way back to Liam, handing it to him which caused him to smile his pearly whites in return.

“Hold on, did he just drop something in y/ns glass?” Hanse voiced out while putting a black nail polished hand up in a stop motion after his eyes had zeroed in on the man in question drop something that looked like a small white circular pill into your drink. Earlier in the night Sejun had been talking to Hanse when they both noticed you dancing with Liam, he couldn’t quite place where he knew him from but after Hanse voiced what he had just seen, he remembered a girl he had hooked up with a couple of weeks ago said that after she had hooked up with Liam about a week prior. She had been looking for her shorts and found what looked like roofies on the floor in a bag under his bed. Sejun had asked why she didn’t report him to which she just shrugged and said Liam hadn’t done anything to her and she wasn’t sure that’s what they were so she wasn’t going to start trouble.

With a narrow of his eyes he peeled Tashas hand from around his torso and bounded off into the kitchen following Hanses fast steps towards your figure holding a red cup smiling up towards the tall figure in front of you.

——————————————

ANNNND chapter 1 is done! I’m going to try to update this pic every week but i can’t make any promises as i’m also writing a Jungkook Magic/au fic series.

I hope you enjoyed the read and pls let me know of any errors you come across as this is partially unedited and i don’t have a Beta reader or anything of the sort. ILY

-C/Potittiess

#lim sejun #sejun #sejun x reader #victon #sejun smut #victon fic #fluff #angst #smut #college fic #collegeau #roommates #roomateau #enemies to lovers #fwb #friendswithbenefits #series #kpop fic #kpop #kpop imagines #victon fanfic #do hanse #choi byungchan #heo chan #jun subin #han seungwoo #kang seungsik #kpop smut #kpopfluff #kpop angst

[villainousshakespeare]

Putting It Back Together Chapter 1

Adam/OFC

Rated M (will probably change to E) - Grief, angst, eventual smut, mention of characters dead before the start of the story

Summary: Since the death of his beloved Eve, Adam had been barely living, only alive due to a promise he made to her. Then one night he meets his new neighbor, a woman dealing with grief of her own. Will they help each other heal or drive each other crazy?

@yespolkadotkitty @just-the-hiddles @hopelessromanticspoonie @wine-and-whines @arch-venus25 @caffiend-queen @devilish–doll @enchantedbyhiddles @hiddlesholic @i-do-not-fangirl-i-fanwoman @kellatron55 @ladyoftheteaandblood @latent-thoughts @gorgeous1974 @maryxglz @myoxisbroken @nuggsmum @nildespirandum @pedeka @redfoxwritesstuff @sinfully-lustful-darling @vodka-and-some-sass @wrathkitty @kingtwhiddleston @wolfsmom1​ @poetic-fiasco​ @shiningloki​ @dangertoozmanykids101​ @bookworm-christina​ @thecutestlittlebunbunfairy​ @amwolowicz​ @delightfulheartdream​ @frostbitten-written​ @what-a-flammable-heart​ @tom-hlover​ @nonsensicalobsessions​

So I decided to take a crack at Adam. The plan is to have this be around 10 chapters, but that is just a guess at the moment. It starts a little angsty, but will lighten up as it goes along. Hope you enjoy!

If you would like on or off the tag list, please let me know!

It was more of a mist than a drizzle adding chill to the late autumn air as he walk through the dark streets. Even this time of night there were noises of fellow wanders, zombies he was sure, but he managed to keep from the streets where they roamed. The last thing he needed was to be confronted with the mindlessness of what passed for humanity in these times.

That was the trade off of life in the city. The need to constantly dodge others was barely offset by the convenience of shops open late and services not bound by the constraints of daylight. Not that Adam needed many services of others. He was in most ways self sufficient. He had worked for centuries to make it so. With but two exceptions - sustenance and music - he had only ever needed one soul besides his own.  

She was gone now, his Eve. Eleven years had passed since she had taken a glass of tainted blood in Tangier. It seemed like yesterday, it seemed like a lifetime. He wished it were his lifetime. Only a promise dragged out of him at her death bead had kept him from following her into oblivion. She had used every trick she possessed, every weakness she knew in him, to get him to agree to her demand, and now he was trapped, bound by a promise to another century on this blighted earth. Eighty-nine more revolutions until he could use the wooden bullet that lay heavy in breast pocket and end his grief.

He had wandered after she left him. Angry and bitter, he had left Africa and roved across the globe. Everywhere he went, though, there were memories. He saw her everywhere in Europe. The Middle East was littered with memories. Even South America echoed a life spent together.

Finally he had come back to America. She had not spent as much time in the States. It was easier here. He had considered Seattle, New Orleans, Memphis, the various musical centers of the country, but in the end New York had drawn him in. Strange, he had never spent much time here. Too many zombies too close together. And yet, he could not deny it had definite advantages, and for the most part no one paid any attention to what anyone else did.

He arrived at last at the brownstone in the East Village where he lived his weary life. He was excited, or at least as excited as he was capable of these days, to test out the Rickenbacker bass guitar that he had stumbled upon in a pawn shop. The owner had no idea how rare the model was, and had not known how to react to the large roll of cash that Adam had thrust at him for the  instrument.

Quickly shucking his black leather jacket, Adam took out he new prize and lovingly stroked the light grained wood. He could feel the decades of music that it had produced still reverberating through the body. He flicked a series of toggles and buttons to power up his sound system and plugged the Rickenbacker in. Closing his eyes he placed his fingers firmly on the frets and plucked out a rapid series of low notes, loving the reverberation and full tones it produced. Just as he began to segue into an actual song, however, a loud bang sounded and the lights, sound, and all other electronic power went dead.

"Shit!" he spit out, mood collapsing back in on itself as quickly as it had risen.

Setting the bass gently back in its case despite his irritation, Adam fumbled through his belongings until he located his tool box. After attaching his head torch and grabbing a second flash light just in case, he made his way down the hall to the ladder that lead up through a hatch onto the roof where a small shed held the electric box for his home.

"Just what I fucking need," he muttered, pulling himself onto the tarred surface.

He was just picking his tools back up when a loud creaking noise drew his attention. Just a few feet away, a second hatch door had opened, and a shape was pulling itself up and onto the roof with some difficulty, judging by the swearing. Adam watched in dismay as the shape unfolded itself to reveal a woman silhouetted against the half moon. She had a large, over bright flashlight in her hands that waved back and forth as she made her way to the shed that was his own destination.

"Who are you?" he asked, intercepting her before she could reach the structure.

"Ohmyfuckinggod!" she cried out, jumping almost a foot as he appeared in front of her.

Adam crossed his arms and waited silently for her to calm down, mouth drawn down into a habitual scowl.

"You scared me half to death!" she told him needlessly when she had regained some of her composure.

"What are you doing here?" he demanded.

"Oh, you know, just signaling Batman that evil is afoot," she said dryly, waving her oversized lamp back and forth.

Adam continued to stare at her, unamused, until she sighed and gave him a real answer.

"I'm checking out the fuse box. Are you from 89? You must be, I guess. So your lights are out too? It doesn't look like it's the whole block, just our two buildings. Hopefully flipping the switch will bring them back on."

"There's no need for you to trouble yourself," he told her when she finally stopped talking. "I have things well in hand. The power should be on shortly."

"Great," she said with a forced smile.

She didn't move. Why was she still standing there? Adam glowered at her, hoping to scare her off, but the brainless girl just stood there.

"Did you need something else?" he asked reluctantly.

"No, just the one thing," she replied, blinking at him. "Shall we get to it?"

"This will hardly take two," he ground out. "And I know how the system works."

He should! He had redone the entire wiring himself. The convoluted system of shorting wires and faulty circuits had been a travesty when he moved in. It had taken him almost a month to tear it out and build a more streamlined, efficient energy grid. The only problem now was when he forgot himself and pulled too much power for the subpar wiring in the wall to take. He had considered redoing that as well, but it would take time and draw attention, which he was keen on avoiding.

"Wonderful, then you can show me," she chirped at him. "After all, you may not be here the next time it goes off, and then I won't know how it works."

She was not going to let this go, he could tell from the deceptively stubborn set of her shoulders. With a roll of his eyes that he doubted her human eyes could catch in the darkness, he turned on his heel and walked over to the shed. Let her look at it, he decided. It was not like she would understand what he had done anyway.

"Woah," the nattering woman whistled as he opened the door. "That is not what I was expecting at all! It looks like some form of microhydraulics, but there's no way you could have a water source up here. What are you using?"

Adam turned and stared at her, really looking at her for the first time. She was short, even for a woman, not even coming up to his chin. Her hair was haphazardly tied into a bunch on the top of her head and looked like it would be bigger than she was if she were to let it down. The eyes she turned up towards him were inquisitive and sharp. She was pretty, he thought, for a zombie.

"How do you know about that?" he asked.

"I tinker," she said with a shrug. "When I'm anxious. Which is a lot of the time lately, to be honest. Too much energy. Sometimes it helps to take things apart an put them back together again."

Adam opened his mouth to respond, but realized he had no idea what he planned on saying. He closed it again and turned back to his contraption.

"Well, don't get any ideas about taking this apart," he grumbled, resetting the mechanism.

"No, I wouldn't," she assured him. "I only mess with my own things until I'm sure I can get them back the way they started. I learned that the hard way. This is really amazing. You are pulling in a boat load of energy. I just hope you don't burn the buildings down when it runs into the wiring. You're a musician, right? I've heard you practicing through the walls. I was so relieved you were good!"

Did this woman never stop talking? Despite his lack of response she seemed perfectly content to stand behind him, shining her flood light on the shed as he worked to get things running again.

"Oh! I see what you did there!" she commented brightly as the low hum of electricity started back up. "That should fix it. And I'm pretty sure I will be able to do that myself next time too!"

"Don't," he ordered, shutting the door with a loud clang. "If there is any problem with the power, I will fix it. I don't need someone else ruining my work."

"But if you're not here?" she repeated doggedly.

"Look, this has never been an issue before, why are you suddenly on my case about it now?"

"I didn't live here before," she answered. "I just moved in last week. This... this was my Grandmother's home. She died. Last week. I'm trying to sort it all now but..."

The light from his headtorch clearly lit up the tears that sprang to her eyes. As Adam stood there in horror, the girl's chin began to wobble and silent sobs hiccupped through her body. A moment later she had burst out crying. Adam, unable to think of anything else to do, slowly and gingerly put one arm around her shaking shoulders and patted her lamely on the back, wishing he could be anywhere else in the world.

***

Lilly woke up completely horrified. It had been a dream, she told herself. It had to have been a dream. That was the only way she was going to survive the events of the night before.

The soreness in her eyes and the streaks of mascara on the backs of her hands, unfortunately, told her the sad truth. It had been real. She had met her dark, handsome, mysterious neighbor, the one who played dark, mysterious music at all hours of the night, on a dark, mysterious rooftop. (Well, okay, maybe the rooftop hadn't been that mysterious, but still!) And what had she done? She had wept all over him like pathetic child.

This, she sighed to herself, was one of the many many reasons why she was single. Any normal girl would have played the damsel in distress, fluttered their eyes and let him be their hero. He certainly had the looks of a brooding hero, even if he seemed to lack the inclination. Of course, it might just be that he lacked the inclination because she had yammered on about anxiety and tinkering, and her grandmother's death and the cried all over him.

Groaning, she rolled over and looked at her clock, only to be greeted by blinking numbers. Of course. She had been too upset when he had finally managed to steer her back to her roof hatch and rid himself of her, lost in a combination of grief and humiliation, to reset it. Great. That meant that the alarm had never gone off. It could be any time now. A quick glance at her phone confirmed her fear. 4:00 in the afternoon. It had happened. She had become completely nocturnal.

Slowly dragging herself up, Lilly staggered to the bathroom and tried to let the hot water wash away her misery. She was tired of feeling miserable. By nature she was not a gloomy person. Anxious, yes, but not gloomy. It was just being here, in the house that once was her happy place but now held too many memories. All she could see where ever she looked was her beloved grandmother. Playing the piano, reading in the window nook, cooking in the large, renovated kitchen. Grandma Lillian was everywhere.

Growing up, Lilly had been an awkward child; small of body but big of personality Gran had said. She was always moving, either her hands or her mouth, having a hard time with stillness. It drove many people to distraction. Grandma Lillian, however, had stated quite matter of factly that she simply had a lot to do and more to say, and therefore needed to do it quickly.

Lilly had spent all of her summers and school vacations here, escaping into the city. Here, she could be herself. With all of the characters in New York City, she was far from the oddest. Grandma Lillian let her patter away happily, always taking her words seriously. She had also found all sorts of mechanical things for Lilly to tinker with, focusing her energy in a more productive direction. It was nonsense, she had opined, that girls were not encouraged more to go into the technical fields. Obviously that was the reason why nothing in this world ran properly.

She had hidden her illness from the family, from Lilly, until the very end. Lilly cursed herself that she had not seen through the excuses for the cancelled visits. A seniors cruise with her girlfriends! She could not imagine the opinionated woman stuck on a boat without someone going overboard. It wasn't until the very end, when she was had been taken to Hospice, that she had phoned Lillian to let her know that it was time to come and visit.

That was eight days ago. Lillian had held her hand at the end, singing in her tear choked voice the torch songs that her Grandmother had once made her living crooning in the night clubs of the city. It had not taken long. Less than a day and Lilly was alone, the owner of a house in the East Village and more money than she had ever imagined possessing, but much the poorer regardless.

The ensuing week was spent puttering around the brownstone, listlessly going through desks and dressers, boxes and cupboards. The memorabilia of a lifetime squirreled away into any available space. She had no need to work at the moment, which was good since she had no employment. Slowly but surely her own night owl tendencies had taken over and she was staying up until the sun streaked the horizon in the morning, only to bed down for the majority of the day. Her parents had always fretted and said it was a sign of depression. Gran had shrugged and agreed that the most exciting things happened at night.

The only excitement Lillian had experienced thus far had been the discovery that a new owner was in residence next door. For as long as she could remember there had been a constant stream of college and conservatory students renting out rooms in the building, turning over each year to the newest crop. Now though, there was one lodger only and he owned the building.

She had caught sight of him out the front window as he was leaving her second night there. Long, wild black hair that looked in want of brushing, black leather jacket, and black jeans that might have been painted on. He was tall, lean, and somehow dangerous looking. It was the way he walked, she decided. There was something almost feral in the swagger as he took off down the street. The next night she had heard him playing music.

At first she thought there were multiple musicians, but after hours spent guiltlessly eavesdropping she became convinced that it was only him. Interspersed with guitars, drums, bass, and other instruments that she couldn't name had come his voice, a distinctive low growl that cut through her sorrow to go straight to her core. She could feel the vibrations of his voice as surely as she heard the bass thumping through the walls.

She began haunting the window overlooking their stoops, hoping for sight of him. She caught glimpses a time or two, always late at night, well after dark. Rather he was coming in or going out, he seemed to eschew the daylight even more than she did. Lilly felt drawn to him, and by more than just his untamed beauty. She supposed she could write it off as one of her hyper-fixations, but intuitively she sensed it was more. She longed for an excuse to meet him.

And then she had. At night, on a roof, under a bright moon.

It would have been perfectly romantic, were she not dressed in a ratty sweatshirt and yoga pants, her hair flopped up any old way on her head. If her first words to him were not gasped out in a shriek, followed by thoughtless prattle. And the, the coup de gras, her sobbing breakdown. The look of unmixed horror on his face as he made his feeble attempt to calm her was burned into Lilly's brain.

She had to get rid of it. There might only be one chance to make a first impression, but maybe, just maybe, a second impression could in time supersede it. Never one to sit on a thought, Lilly squared her shoulders. It was six o'clock, he was bound to still be in. She would pay him a visit and apologize for her horrid behavior.

Yes, that was the plan. After all, what was the worst that could happen? It was bound to go better than last time.

#adam olla #Adam/OFC #Tom Hiddleston #Fic #Only Lovers Left Alive #OLLA #angst #anxiety #eventual smut #grief #will lighten up #I promise #smut to come

[annepsilvaauthor]

Fighter Weapons — Chapter 11

Pairing(s): Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x OC (Claire Mitchell) / Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Natasha "Phoenix" Trace

Summary: An untold story. A series that shows what happened during the Top Gun of our beloved pilots of Top Gun: Maverick.

Warnings: Subtle sexual innuendos, brief language, alcohol consumption, angst, smut, fluffy.

Word Count: 7.154

The darlings who don't want to miss any updates ↪️ @missathlete31 @togetherisawonderfulplacetobe @switch3rr @na0my @aprilwithapricots @goldenloverschild @rightwhereiwantyou @jackiequick @oliviah-25 @bellyliveslife @anerdquemoraaolado @callsign-barbell @struggling-with-space

Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10

SAN DIEGO BEACH, CA

The moon was already up, so bright and full in the huge black sheet that covered the sky. The breeze was cold, but not in an uncomfortable way, just a relief for skin accustomed to the sun's rays. Bradley stuffed the keys to his Bronco into the front pocket of his pale blue jeans and charged toward The Hard Deck.

As it was almost midnight, the room was full of naval officers and fighter pilots. Some were in uniform, despite having been released from formalities on the day off, and others in civilian clothes. The sailors and marines in uniform were surrounded by women who either laughed exaggeratedly or were astonished at the incredible stories they told. Bradley didn't judge that situation, since those men came there to relieve the tension of the job and the women knew very well what they did and what was expected of them.

He watched some Top Gun pilots at the back of the bar around the pool table. Some sat on the black stools while chatting heartily, others watched the beach outside through the windows and the rest played a game with a few bottles of beer as a toast.

Bradley walked towards the counter and was greeted with a smile by Penny.

“I had the piano fixed. All the strings are tight now.” she informed with an implicit request.

"Any music in particular?" He returned the smile.

“Hmm.” She looked up at the railing filled with miniature planes. “She's got a way.”

“Ow! Billy Joel at midnight? Bold.”

"You try to be worth the melancholy." She pointed at him with her index finger and a warning expression.

“Perhaps I need to vent my melancholy.” he confessed in a sigh and soon realized what he had done. Penny was looking at him intently and he cleared his throat. “The usual, please.”

Penny smiled the tiniest bit and turned back to her inventory. Bradley turned his gaze toward the pool table, where a lively game was in progress. Phoenix competed against Hangman. Judging by Hangman's frowning expression, he was losing. Phoenix didn't hesitate to celebrate each point, teasing him.

Phoenix wore her heavy boots, light blue jeans and a beige silk tank top, exposing her freshly tanned skin and bikini line. Bradley raised an eyebrow at the sight. Not that it was ugly, but he had another idea about Phoenix's dress. He figured she would never show any skin around her co-workers. He knew how inconvenient some men could be, just as she must know very well. However, seeing her so at ease around them left him surprised, not to say suspicious.

"Looks like someone's distracted." Phoenix taunted with a conspiratorial smile.

“I'm thinking about what I'm going to ask you when I win.” Hangman smiled victoriously.

"How about never having the displeasure of looking at that face of yours again?"

She kept her smile and the surrounding pilots let out "uuh" and "ooh". Hangman held back his smile as well and twirled the toothpick with his tongue.

“So you've already accepted that you lost.”

“If that's my prize, I can let you win.”

Hangman shook his head and walked over to Phoenix, whispering in her ear. Bradley watched the way she let him close. He lightly touched her waist with one hand and the chest covered by a brown leather jacket was almost glued to hers. Phoenix was an attractive woman and one of the few in the Navy, and Bradley knew that both of these factors made officers want to have fun with her. He himself had seen countless cases like this and Top Gun was no exception.

Bradley noticed the way they looked at her and some were more intrusive and tried to touch her, but Phoenix always shooed them away, always gave them a firm answer or slapped their hand. What she didn't do at that moment. Was Phoenix so drunk as to allow Hangman, the worst of them all, to approach like that in front of everyone? She was his friend. He couldn't let her fall into the wrong hands.

So Bradley took his beer from Penny and headed to the back of the bar. He walked over to Phoenix and draped an arm over her shoulders, earning a surprised look from her.

"Is this game going to take a long time?" he asked with a genuine smile on his face.

“Look what we have here. Bradley Bradshaw in a hurry.” Hangman insulted leaning on the table and staring at him steadily. “Will we have this change in the sky too?”

“Phoenix has put up with you too long.” He lifted his chin and ignored his teasing. “Besides, if I remember correctly, you're a lone wolf. You can play alone.”

Hangman kept the smug smile on his thin lips, but his gaze was sharp. Bradley pulled Phoenix lightly to get out of there, but she got away from him. He raised an eyebrow.

“I never leave a competition half done.” She exchanged glances between the two men. “When I win this match, I'll keep you company.”

"But Phoenix…”

“You heard the lady.” Hangman emphasized with amusement running across his face.

Bradley obeyed her friend's wishes and leaned against a column, waiting for the game to end. However, Hangman seemed to prolong that match as long as he could. He spent several minutes thinking about his next shot, as well as drinking nearly an entire bottle of beer between shots and choosing the ball with an uncharacteristic calmness.

The other pilots could think that Hangman was immersed in the match, analyzing everything carefully so as not to lose. But that wasn't what Bradley was looking at. Hangman teased him about the delay, getting revenge for the times Bradley had made him wait in heaven.

Bradley also noted the closeness between Storm and Coyote. They were oblivious to all that movement and seemed to be eating each other with their eyes, talking in the corner of the bar. What more surprises would he have that night?

“Getting blue already, cowboy. You're always losing to me.” Phoenix teased after winning the match.

"Always time for one more." He invited and offered her a beer. She accepted the bottle without a second thought.

“You're right. There is always time for you to lose.” She took a sip with a mocking smile on her face. “Guys, the cowboy is free now. Take it easy on him.”

“Do not do it. You will be slaughtered.”

"Um, how did you do to me?" She mocked.

The surrounding riders declared victory for Phoenix in those arguments and she approached Bradley with a smile and chest heaving. She was really enjoying herself there. He threw her a suspicious expression as he sipped his beer.

“Why that face?”

“It's my face.”

“Serious? Are you going to lie now?” She patted his shoulder. “What there was?”

“Many things.”

Bradley sighed and detached himself from the column, nodding for her to follow. He guided her to the darts and handed her a few. Phoenix smiled at yet another challenge, but was wary of what he wanted to talk about or was hiding.

"Where have you been all day?" Phoenix asked breaking the long silence that followed.

“Around. I needed to think.” he replied vaguely and threw a dart at the board.

“You've been training.” She praised and threw a dart too, hitting the red target. “But not enough.”

He smiled as he took another sip of his only beer of the night. Phoenix was becoming more and more competitive and, although he didn't appreciate that trait, he couldn't bring himself to dislike her friend. That was an intrinsic characteristic of her and made her who she was. Without that, Phoenix wouldn't be his dearest friend.

He noticed the tan mark again and asked:

“And you? Where have you been all day?”

He saw her straighten her back slightly and run a hand over her bare shoulder. She threw another dart and vibrated as it hit the target once more. Her gaze fled to the pool table, where Hangman was watching her with a proud smile. Phoenix turned the black orbs on Bradley and replied by swallowing a sigh:

“On the beach.”

“I can see it.” He pointed with his eyes at her shoulders.

“Bradshaw, Bradshaw.” She approached him with a playful smile and rested a hand on the wall behind him. In front of them, Hangman missed a shot and swore loudly.

“You're acting weird today. Why don't you go do what you do best?”

“You know, I think everyone here thinks I'm an employee to entertain you.” he complained, but his eyes smiled. “I have a right to relax in silence, you know?”

Phoenix widened her smile and took a step forward.

“You're acting weird today too.” He pressed himself against the wall behind him, for she was really close.

Storm and Coyote walked past them hugging and laughing at something extremely funny as they headed to the ladies' room. Both.

“What's going on with everyone?” he asked in frustration.

“A lot can happen on a day off.” she explained with a wink. He noticed that her gaze had slipped behind him and he was even more puzzled. "Perhaps your music will put everything back together."

“God, so I need to play urgently!”

Phoenix laughed out loud at his despair and walked away. Bradley walked over to the piano and sat down. He played with a few keys and soon attracted attention to himself. He started playing Jerry Lee Lewis and Ray Charles to liven up the night. Phoenix danced beside the piano with determination, plucking Storm from Coyote's arms and leading her along for some love songs.

After a while, Phoenix needed to renew her drink and walked over to Penny's counter. Behind her, Rooster started playing She's Got A Way.

"She's got a way about her

I don't know what it is

But I know that I can't live without her

She she's got a way of pleasin'

I don't know why it is

But there doesn't have to be a reason anyway"

However, before she could ask, a voice sounded behind her:

“Two shots of Pincer, Penny, dear.”

"What's the reason for something so strong, Bagman?" she taunted turning around and propping her elbows on the counter.

"She's got a smile that heals me

I don't know why it is

But I have to laugh when she reveals me

She's got a way of talking

Don't know why it is

But it lifts me up when we are walking anywhere"

"I need this to get through all this singing." His voice was low, almost tired, but his eyes were wide awake. "Does he really have to do this every night?"

"And do you really need to be a complainer? Relax and enjoy the music. Everyone is enjoying it.”

"I prefer country music." He shrugged and picked up both glasses, handing one to her.

They both downed the vodka in one gulp, hitting the glass back on the counter at the same time. The liquid went burning down their throats, but none dared grimace or look away. Finally, Phoenix raised her chin defiantly and Hangman smiled proudly.

"She comes to me when I'm feelin' down

Inspires me without a sound

She touches me and I get turned around

She's got a way of showin'

How I make her feel

And I find the strength to keep on goin'

She's got a light around her

And everywhere she goes

A million dreams of love surround her everywhere"

"Ask for a song." she said after a few seconds of tasting the drink.

"No thanks. My country demands respect."

"Respect?" She put a hand on her hip and it was his turn to lean on the counter. “You're making this up. You are jealous."

"Jealous? From who?"

"Rooster."

"The drink was too strong for you." He grimaced and pointed at the piano. "Why would I be jealous of that out of tune?"

"That 'out of tune' stole all the attention from you." she taunted with a mocking smile. “And you hate it."

"I see you already know me well." His smile turned mischievous.

“You are not a difficult man to read."

Hangman looked away from her, staring into the distance without a specific point and Phoenix knew he wasn't interested in the bar's decor. She sighed and remembered something.

"I must return this to you." She took his cell phone out of her pocket and held it out.

He looked at the device without remembering that she still had it and looked at it with a certain contempt. Finally, he took out his cell phone and put it away. Hangman remained silent for a while and Phoenix decided to leave him alone with her thoughts. She had already chased away too many dark clouds in his gaze that day.

"She comes to me when I'm feelin' down

Inspires me without a sound

She touches me

I get turned around"

However, a large, warm hand engulfed hers before she was gone. Phoenix turned her gaze over his to find those emeralds shimmering in tenderness and she couldn't help but smile. A genuine smile.

"She's got a smile that heals me

I don't know why it is

But I have to laugh when she reveals me

She's got a way about her

I don't know what it is

But I know that I can't live without her anyway"

Maybe the vodka really was too strong that night, because Phoenix felt her chest burn and rise and fall without stopping. She could really be getting drunk because she wanted to get closer. She wanted to smell the coconut again, the grip of his hands on her body, the warmth of her embrace.

However, she managed to break free from the trance by taking care of what she wanted. This was beyond what she had ever wanted or needed from anyone. It was too intimate, too daring, too dangerous. It was obvious that she would never allow Hangman to touch her like that again. She was just involved in the situation, but she had her principles and wills under control. Phoenix wouldn't be controlled by feelings or anyone else.

Then, she slowly disentangled her fingers from his and walked away without looking back. She was right. It was just a fun day next to each other. Just it. She shouldn't want more. She couldn't want more. But why did her body feel numb as she walked away from him?

Bradley kept playing and singing, and for a few hours he forgot what he had done, what he had felt in that elevator. With her. But as the night wore on and the chosen songs took a romantic turn, he remembered the feel of her in his arms, the softness of her skin, the way she melted on his lips and the taste of her kiss.

For a few seconds, it felt like heaven. He and she giving in to repressed desires and feelings. However, having the moment broken by Hangman, they returned to the harsh and painful reality of their past and Maverick's shadow looming over them. Claire politely walked away from him and disappeared, leaving only her lavender scent engraved in Bradley's body and mind.

He looked for her around the hangar that day. He called her cell phone many times. And, with infamous courage, Bradley knocked on her door. He wanted to talk, he needed to clarify everything even if he himself didn't understand what was going on. But he needed answers. However, no one answered. She was running from him again. He lowered his gaze and drove his Bronco around town with no particular direction. It happened again. Again, a thrust from him carried her away. Following instincts definitely didn't work for him.

When the requests took a turn he couldn't stand anymore, Bradley decided to leave the piano to boos and "oohs". He bowed in thanks for their attention and walked away with a sigh, something that wasn't lost on Phoenix. He sat on a stool next to the darts and his friend followed, sitting beside him.

“Okay, what's going on?" Phoenix asked bluntly.

Bradley smiled the tiniest bit at her directness and crossed his arms. There was a lot to think about, a lot to say, but nothing concrete. He didn't even know what was going on.

"It is complicated." he finally confessed.

"Excellent. I've never had anything easy in my life. I know how "complicated" works."

“I don't think it can be resolved like that."

“You're doubting my ability." She feigned indignation and reached for his knee, stroking it. “If we don't solve it, talking about it helps."

"It's a long story."

“We have all night." She smiled gently at the confusion on his face. "You can trust me."

Bradley hadn't known Phoenix for very long, a week wasn't enough to trust someone, especially with an issue like the one that had been gnawing at him for years. But, not everything happens according to logic. From day one, Bradley felt that he could trust Phoenix. He watched the way she protected Storm, how she defended and cared for her. He also noticed that, as much as the pilots were too bold or had a big tongue, Phoenix was never afraid to face them nor did she fail to extend her hand to any of them who needed help. She was strong, determined, and sensitive enough to see beyond the wall. He knew he could trust her.

However, before he confessed the reason for his anguish, a huge body stopped in front of them. Hangman had his hands in the front pockets of his jeans, his chest puffing out under his plaid shirt, his face showing impatience.

“You have to pick one, Bradshaw. You can't have them all." he muttered with the cynical smile.

Bradley sighed heavily and scratched his forehead, shaking his head. Phoenix noticed his friend's exhaustion and decided to intervene:

“Not a good time, Bagman."

“It's been a good two hours." He should stop fooling you and go after who he really wants.

“Nothing to be fooled about."

"OK I understand. I was wrong in thinking that the old Bradshaw had changed. When the decisive moment comes, he backs off, doesn't he?"

"What you want after all? Shouldn't you be having fun far away from us?"

“Oh, I will." Hagman looked directly at Bradley. "But first I wanted to make sure he was going to keep having you as a step."

"You have no right to talk about me like that!" Phoenix was starting to change.

“Don't get carried away, Phoenix. That's what he wants." Bradley answered calmly.

Phoenix tried to stay calm by taking deep breaths. He would not take her peace away.

"Serious? Are you going to let him control you again?"

"As long as it's not you." she replied coldly.

Hangman laughed humorlessly and shook his head.

“I thought you were different." he commented with some hurt and Phoenix felt the weight. He wasn't just referring to Rooster, but to her earlier abandonment.

“I thought the same about you." She lifted her chin in defiance, but deep inside her heart stirred. “Looks like it wasn't the Rooster who was fooling me after all. You will always be an asshole."

Phoenix said those words with such force that even Bradley felt the impact. He noticed her hard expression and swallowed hard. She was defending him tooth and nail like the good friend she was, but… he sensed something else, something deeper burning between the two of them and he became alert.

Hangman glared at her, but her eyes showed hurt and disappointment. Finally, he nodded and walked away from them, heading for the exit. Bradley noticed Phoenix's gaze drop and stray for a few moments. He could almost feel the confusion inside her, a confusion similar to his own.

"Thanks." he thanked with a small smile. "You're a good friend."

She continued away in her thoughts for a while until she raised her black eyes to his. They were filled with anguish, confusion and fear, emotions he never thought he could see in Phoenix. She was like a strong wall every day, pushing herself to the limit in every assignment and class. To him, Phoenix looked like a superhero. Until that moment.

He returned the favor by giving her a hug and offering to drop her off. But Phoenix refused saying that she should take care of Storm. She still didn't fully trust Coyote. Bradley nodded and walked away from her slowly trying to make sure she was going to be okay. Phoenix lifted her chin in a smile and it eased his heart. She would be fine, she always would be.

[***]

Phoenix fidgeted on her bed frantically, her mind filled with thoughts of that day. His hurt look wouldn't let her, as well as the anger that he was so arrogant. But her biggest anger was at herself for imagining that he could change. He showed he didn't and she felt like a clown. She was even crazier for thinking about it. Why should he be any different? Would they ever become friends? There was no reason for them to get close again. Not after what he's done. Phoenix could take all the name-calling in the world, but she would never have her friends messed with. It was her own law.

She decided to get up to chase away the thoughts. She watched Storm sleep peacefully on the bed next to her and sighed. They still haven't had a chance to talk about what's going on between Storm and Coyote, but it won't be long. Her friend wasn't going to run away from that conversation.

Phoenix left the room wearing only her makeshift pajamas, gray sweat shorts, and a black T-shirt emblazoned with GO LATINS! in gold. She tied her hair in a loose bun as she walked around the hangar facility without fear of being seen, as at that hour no one was awake.

She entered the break room and made her way to the scullery to pour herself a glass of water. The environment was dark, being illuminated only by the lights of the airstrip and of the fighters outside that crossed through the glass of the windows. Phoenix took the glass and left the pantry, sitting on a stool at the counter and turned on the small radio. She listened to the tower communicating with the pilots and vice versa, the adrenaline, the commands, the sound between cuts. That served to calm her down, change the focus of her thoughts to what they really should be in those days. The work. Anything beyond that was drama and totally expendable.

However, she felt a gentle touch on her shoulder and her body tensed. Her heart raced like the engines of her fighter jet. She swallowed hard. It couldn't be him, not then. It was late, she felt vulnerable and he couldn't see that. Never. Phoenix knew she wasn't strong enough to shoo him away again. She didn't know if she could be tough again and meet that sad gaze. She wanted to be a stone, unbreakable, impenetrable. But she wasn't. And it pissed her off.

She turned and breathed a sigh of relief when she saw Rooster's figure in front of her. He was still wearing his clothes from earlier, but his pockmarked face indicated that he had tried to sleep but just couldn't.

"I scared you?" he asked with a worried expression.

She shook her head and reached for the glass of water, hoping he wouldn't notice her shaking hand. She turned off the radio.

"Fell out of bed?" she joked as she recovered.

"Almost that." He sat on the bench next to her. " I can't sleep."

"Is that still bothering you?"

"Yes a lot." He ruffled his hair with one hand. "I feel like I'm going to freak out at any moment."

“Please let me know when this happens so I can film it and use it against you in the future." She teased him with a gentle smile, hoping to change his mood, but she didn't get more than a glimmer of a smile. "Talk to me."

She watched him close his eyes for a few seconds in pain and continued to smooth his hair with his fingers. Whatever it was, it was disturbing him to the core, and Phoenix was touched. Then, he confessed as if his words burned his tongue:

“I kissed Claire."

Phoenix took a few seconds to absorb the information. Finally, she asked without understanding:

"What? Did you...kissed...did you kiss our instructor? That's it?"

“She's not just an instructor for me." He opened his eyes, but he was still unable to look at her. "We've known each other pretty much our whole lives. We were raised almost like brothers."

“Brothers don't kiss, Rooster."

"I know. I never saw her like this... I mean, when I was young, yes, but not later." He sighed heavily and scratched his forehead. “I felt something different for her…I think I still do…and maybe she does too."

Phoenix took a few more seconds to digest that very intriguing information. It was shocking. It was wrong. It was worthy of punishment. He could be dropped from the program for insubordination. This was really serious. But Phoenix knew it wasn't those factors that bothered her friend. Rooster was unsure of his feelings and her reciprocity.

It was ironic that that drama landed right in her hands, a staunch drama fugitive. But she needed to say something. Her friend needed a light, and even though she wasn't the most romantic person in the world or spoke any love language, Phoenix struggled to say,

“Tell her everything. If you feel something, she deserves to know. Maybe that's the push she needs to reveal everything too."

"I can't." He met her eyes for the first time. They were wet and wasted.

"Why not? It is clearly eating you up."

“We…have a painful past. We are bound by a sad story and it will never go away."

“It doesn't have to go away. You just have to deal with it... your way."

“I really wish it were that simple." He shook his head, wiping a tear away. "We try. For years. It always comes back... it always torments us."

“You'll never be happy if you're stuck in the past. Even apart."

She watched another tear trickle down his cheek and hurried to gently wipe it away. Rooster didn't move, didn't even blink. He lost himself in thought again and she didn't force him. Rooster needed a break.

“I don't think our destiny was ever to be together." he confessed sadly.

Then she leaned towards him and hugged him. He took two seconds to get over the gesture and settled into her arms, having his broad back stroked by her. They remained like that for a while, in silence. Phoenix knew it wouldn't be easy for him or Claire to get past whatever was haunting the present, but as long as she was around she would always support her newest and dearest friend. Rooster was a good man and deserved to be happy.

As she hugged him, she became aware of another figure wandering around the room. He was barefoot, wearing blue cotton pants and a gray T-shirt with NAVY written in the center. His hair was free of all that gel he used to use, kind of messy. She could barely see his face, but the emeralds were still shining, less but still shining.

Her heart started beating so hard that she felt dizzy. She felt her body react to his presence in a way she didn't know. Her hands shook, her mouth watered, a burning burned in her chest, and her crotch tingled a few times.

Suddenly, Rooster slowly ended the hug and looked at her with a question mark on his face.

“You're burning up, Phoenix." He touched the skin on her arms. "Are you getting a fever?"

She noticed that it really was hot and she didn't know what to answer. But luckily she didn't have to, because Rooster noticed Hangman's presence and asked him:

"Why are you here?"

“Oh, I'm not here. It's just a beautiful mirage. The lovebirds can continue to lick each other."

Hangman said this in a serious tone and no smile on his lips. Not even a cynic. Phoenix was surprised by that. It was only then that she noticed his belongings. Hangman spread a white cloth over the couch and propped a pillow on its arm. His beige uniform and flight suit were neatly folded on the coffee table, as were his sheets and a book. Phoenix tried to read the title, but the poor light wouldn't allow it. Was he a reader? Information she'd never thought likely.

"What are you doing?" it was her turn to ask.

“Come on… you're smart. You'll find out soon enough." he mocked, still without a smile.

“You can't sleep here. It's forbidden." Rooster recalled attentively.

"Excellent. The forbidden is always better." He sat on the couch. "You know that very well, don't you, Rooster?"

Rooster shook his head in an expression that almost said "I'm too tired for this" and got to his feet. Phoenix accompanied him into the action, but her eyes were still locked on the new member of the room. Rooster was right. Everyone was freaking out that day.

"I don't want to be here when they find you."

“Fine for me. I like to be alone."

Rooster rolled his eyes and took Phoenix's arm to guide them out of there, but she didn't budge. He raised an eyebrow and she whispered that she would be gone in a few moments. Rooster looked at her suspiciously, but decided to obey. As much as he wanted to protect her, Phoenix knew how to take care of herself. She watched her friend leave the room and close the door.

Phoenix glanced back at the figure stripping her of sanity and caught him looking back. Emeralds roamed every inch of her, taking too long on her bare legs and she felt her skin burn again. The air conditioning in that room needed a good repair.

"Aren't you going to run after him again?" he commented leaning against the sofa and extending his muscular arms over the top of the backrest.

Phoenix had to concentrate very hard not to bite her bottom lip. Arrg! She hated the fact that he was so hot.

"I wasn't the one who ran away." she snapped, remembering his sudden departure from the bar.

Hangman moved his lips.

"I had some unfinished business."

"At two in the morning? Sure."

He looked away from hers and Phoenix walked over to him standing next to the coffee table. The close-up view was even more breathtaking with the veins in high relief and hair jumping from the chest. Phoenix felt her breasts react and she crossed her arms. Damned day not to wear a bra!

“That was ridiculous." she complained with a feline look.

“I was just protecting you." he confessed in a barely audible voice.

"No, you were being possessive! There is a big difference."

“How can I be possessive over someone who isn't mine?"

"Exactly. You don't have that right."

They exchanged hard looks for a while, seeing the anger and anguish and hurt in every blink. They shouldn't feel that mountain of feelings. They had known each other for just a week. They weren't friends, not even close. They were rivals in everything. So why did all that stuff suddenly appear?

“Well, if you're done, you can leave. I'm an asshole who needs sleep."

She noted the emphasis he placed on "asshole" and sighed heavily. Maybe she overreacted, maybe she crossed the line, maybe she was using Rooster's defense as an excuse to push him away. The hurt in his eyes was almost palpable. And that shouldn't bother her, after all he wasn't there to make friends nor did she want his friendship. She didn't need to redeem herself or explain her actions. So she took a different turn in the conversation.

"One more question." She sat on the end of the coffee table and got his full attention. "Why are you sleeping here?"

"Why the curiosity? Are you worried about me by any chance?" he asked with some bluntness.

"Just making sure you haven't gone completely insane."

“Too late for that, Phoenix."

Phoenix. No Trace or my angel. Just her codename. Something impartial, professional and distant. No smirks or smug smiles. She should be grateful that he finally obeyed her and stopped the flirting and the nicknames and the goofy smile. He looked like a completely different person now. And that started to get really annoying. She had to catch a glimpse of Bagman or the world wouldn't be orbiting her.

Then, she held a hand out in front of him. He looked at her with an expression that said "who's freaking out right now?" Phoenix rolled her eyes and insisted on the gesture. He lifted her hand and it engulfed hers, warm and firm. Her body felt his presence again and she swallowed hard.

She wrapped his hand around hers, leaving only her thumbs exposed, and began to move. She beat him two, three times and was already thinking that her strategy wasn't going to work until Hangman joined the game and beat her four, five, six times, crushing her little thumb. But she didn't care. The smug smile was back, as was the ferocity in his gaze. How she hated it. But it was infinitely better than not seeing him like this.

"Stop it." he asked in a low, husky voice.

"With what?"

“Be affectionate with me. It makes me want to kiss you."

That phrase reverberated through every cell in her body, sending a warm shiver down her lower abdomen. But she wouldn't let him see how affected she was. Phoenix lifted her chin in defiance.

"Is that supposed to make me scared or horny?Because it didn't work in either case."

“Oh really?" His tone was mischievous, which irritated her.

“Yes, I don't feel anything, Bagman. And I will never feel."

"It's a challenge?" She didn't answer and he widened his smile. "I'll take that as a yes."

She watched as he sat down on the edge of the upholstery and tilted his face towards hers in such a swift movement, her eyes widened. This didn't go unnoticed by him as he smirked smugly. Phoenix furrowed her brow, shooting him a death glare. Why did she have to bring him back?

Hangman got even closer to her face, setting those bright emeralds in her eyes. They crackled, danced in desire and tenderness. A combination she wasn't sure she was safe with. So Hangman started his work. He placed warm kisses on her chin, tracing a path down her length. His touch was soft, light and extremely warm. She felt like she was on a beach sinking her feet into the sand after a whole day in the blazing sun.

He kissed down her throat as calmly as if he had all night for that. He dragged his lips down the curve of her neck, using his hot tongue and teeth to mark her. Phoenix shuddered at that, felt goosebumps all over her body and more twinges between her legs, which made her rub against each other. She felt his smile on her skin.

"Not yet, my angel?"

"No." She shook her head and didn't risk saying more than that, because she didn't trust her voice.

Hangman traced a nibbling path down the back of her neck, up to her ear, and stopped. She felt the quick, hot breath there, teasing, playing with her senses and little awareness. His scent intoxicated her too. That scent of coconut with aftershave and a splash of vodka was driving her crazy.

“You smell so good, my angel." he whispered and another shiver hit her.

“I use the same soap as you. Fightertown standard."

He chuckled excitedly and touched it there with the tip of his tongue, dragging it slowly across its length and Phoenix couldn't hold back a gasp. Hearing that, Hangman quickly turned his face in front of her and smiled. That annoying smug smile was back.

“My work is done. I won."

“No, you didn't win. I did nothing." She lied, for she would never admit that she craved his touch.

"Hmmmm..." he sighed in her face, making a point of prolonging the sound. Phoenix forced her legs together again. "You are stealing. Again."

"I'm not! Arrg...you are insufferable, Bagman."

He laughed, a good, loud laugh, which pissed her off even more. One day she would break all those perfect teeth of his.

"Stop laughing, idiot! There's nothing funny here."

“Of course there is. You really hate losing. And even more admitting that you lost... and that you're attracted to me. He leaned back against the sofa, resting his arms on the back.

"You've completely gone mad! I already made sure of that."

“It's not such a hard thing to admit, my angel. Many women feel the same way." He was giving her a mocking smile, but his eyes were burning with desire. "Ask me to kiss you and I will."

It was her turn to laugh, but without humor.

“The day that happens I will no longer be called Natasha Trace."

"Hmm. So it's better to start choosing another name."

Phoenix was shaking all over and she couldn't tell if it was due to anger or desire. Maybe both. Hangman managed to get her serious in many ways. She needed to get out of here or she could end the night with her hands at his throat or under those sheets. The tension between them only grew and she knew nothing good could come of two highly attractive people in a darkened room, alone, wearing nothing but pajamas at three-thirty in the morning. Then she stood up and replied:

“You already know how I feel about asking."

Phoenix turned on her heels and took a step away from him. But when she took another step, a strong, warm hand gripped her arm and stopped her. The same hand slid up to her face and brought her back so close to him that she could feel every muscle in her abdomen, chest and legs. His eyes, even in the dim light, burned and his brow creased as if in pain. His quick, hot breathing warmed her face like a peaceful day at the beach.

Phoenix remained motionless. She was trapped in that gaze. In that touch. In the heat of his body. She knew she should pull away, she should shoo him away like she would any man who surrounded her like that without permission. She once slapped one for a lot less. So why was Hangman any different? Why was her body screaming to get even closer to him? They should hate each other. But their bodies looked so good together...

“Still so proud."

Then he kissed her. A hard, desperate kiss as if he had to have her for himself, as if he was dying to memorize the feel of her lips against his. The taste of him was driving her crazy. He was pure heat and desire and vodka and she wanted more. Phoenix pulled him closer by the shirt straps with force, making them very thin and probably showing his shoulders.

He was kissing her as if he already knew every part of her mouth. He was kissing her confidently, without shyness or that awkward adjustment of a first kiss. He seemed to have imagined this moment so many times, in so many different ways, that when they finally touched, it was as if they had already kissed a hundred times.

Phoenix couldn't say how or at what moment, but she realized it too late when he had already lifted her off the floor and carried her to the couch, holding her on his lap. Her mind was a complete blank, not a single thought would pass through it if it weren't for him. She was no longer on the sand, not even on the shore. Phoenix was fully immersed in the salty waters of desire. And the coconut scent of him said it.

His hands roamed her body, curious and strong, caressing her shoulders, her back, her ribs, her bare legs and her bottom. Phoenix moaned softly as he held her there and Hangman intensified the kiss, letting out a few gasps of air that burned her skin. And she tasted him. She tasted his mouth, his neck, the square line of his jaw. She teased the soft blond strands into a needy kiss, as if she had never kissed anyone and never would. She felt her own brow furrow from the strength and desperation that surged there, and feared. She was losing control of herself, she was drowning in him, giving herself away in a way she didn't remember if she ever had. And it was very dangerous.

So, she used all the strength she had left to pry her lips away from them.

"Hangman..." she asked in a hoarse whisper.

"Oh, no…no…" he pleaded between more long, hot kisses.

"We need...to stop..."

"No..." He repeated that word as if he had forgotten all the others he had learned in his entire life.

Phoenix watched his rapid breathing, heavy eyes, and swollen, red lips. His hair was a mess, as were his clothes, and she couldn't help but gasp. It was a vision of the gods. Her whole body was crying out for her to stay there, end that night in his arms and forget about everything. But she couldn't. She couldn't forget, couldn't let herself be taken in by him...she couldn't let him in.

"Need to go."

And she didn't expect a response from him, not even a goodnight. Phoenix broke free of his body and practically ran away, back to her room closing the door and leaning against it. She was safe. Safe. There she would not drown. She could breathe again.

Phoenix ran a hand through her tousled hair and lay back, trying to breathe in and out normally again.

"Natty?" She heard a growl beside her.

"I am here." She tried to control her voice but failed.

"Did you go for a run?"

She buried her face in her hands and smiled slightly.

"Almost that. Go back to sleep...we'll have an intense day in a while."

Intense in every way. She felt that that day would not be the only one that would be turned upside down.

#top gun maverick #monica barbaro #glen powell #jake seresin #natasha trace #hangman x phoenix #top gun phoenix #hangman #hannix #hannix drabble #miles teller #bradley bradshaw x oc #bradley rooster bradshaw #claire mitchell