#i had all four series posters but i now have series 1 and the other three are lost 😭

[madelynraemunson]

CALL ME WHAT YOU WANT 𓆩♡𓆪

(Book #1 of the Hellfire Gentlemen's Club series)

strip club owner!eddie x fem!exotic dancer!hargrove!reader

𝐌𝐎𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐍 𝐀𝐔 18+ ONLY! MINORS DON’T YOU DARE I AM INSIDE YOUR HOME

Chapter 004: The Eddie Stop

Everyone loves a parked car conversation. Eddie’s van is no castle by any means…but do a boss and his employee have to sit that close to each other?

* = somewhat smut

** = smut

↳ chapters: 001, 002*, 003** , 004**, 005 , 006 , 007* , 008**, 009, 010, 011, 012* , 013**, 014** , 015, 016**, 017, 018, 019, 020*

word count: 4.8k

warnings & disclaimers — slow burn, mutual pining, profanities, sexual tension, marijuana use, SO MANY sexual innuendos, foot play, daddy kink, dirty talk, masturbation, touching, rubbing, talks of abuse, trauma, Eddie talking about “Asshole Dad & Dead Mom Club”, suicide, overdose, reader’s trauma becoming her kink i.e slapping/hair pulling/choking, steddie x reader threesome kinda 🤭, sex dream, p in v smut, unprotected sex, deepthroating, double penetration, idk what else I’m missing so here’s a PSA from Murray

_______________𓆩♡𓆪_______________

♡

And then there were two.

“You better stop that thing you’re doing. I’m telling you, I ain’t lying.”

For the owner of a very successful strip club, you would think Eddie had a...fancier car. But there is beauty in humble beginnings. In fact, you can tell a lot about him from the ketchup stain by the window, empty coffee tumblers on the floor that need washing, crinkled up band posters — along with MORE PAPERWORK — and the tattered leather seats held together by the sheer grit of duct tape. A Porsche would just conceal who Eddie Munson is.

And Eddie’s the coolest boss you’ve ever had. In the safest town you’ve ever been in.

“Hawkins gets pretty quiet after 1 AM,” you observe. Despite being the blasted one, it’s you who’s attempting to break the silence.

You glance out the window, watching the scenery of the Bible Belt town you've grown to romanticize flash by like developing film.

“Yeah,” Eddie sighs. “If you’re looking for nightlife, you’ve come to the wrong place.”

Eddie approaches a four way intersection and stops too late. He does it for a short time too, stepping on the gas pedal not even a second later.

He peers over at you to see if you caught it.

“Sorry if I’m being a crazy driver,” Eddie apologizes. “If the street’s empty I’m only stopping for like... a millisecond. If at all.”

You snort. “You’re fine. We call that a ‘California stop’ back home.”

“You wanna see an ‘Eddie stop’?”

You turn to him. He’s just staring at you and smiling, a look of mischief creeping its way to the surface.

“What’s that?”

SLAM. You shoot forward in your seat the moment Eddie’s foot meets the brakes. A surprised gasp from you fills the air while Eddie joins in with a loud cackle. You glare at him, a frantic hand clutched to your chest.

“What the FUCK!”

“That’s an ‘Eddie stop’,” Eddie explains between laughter.

SLAM! He does it again.

“Eddie, stop!” you plead.

“Hey, that’s the spirit!” he chuckles.

You realize his play on words and shove him.

“Ow,” he remarks with sass, hand reaching over to rub where you pushed him. “Feisty.”

"Yeah? Well, don't dish out what you can't handle."

You cross your arms and jokingly turn your torso in the other direction. Eddie is amused at this, proceeding to poke fun at you while he still can.

"Hmm. Hm hm," he laughs with his pursed lips. "For someone who can't hang, you're one to talk."

You’re still intoxicated. Nothing is leaving your system any time soon, it appears.

It all starts to feel like a dream. You thoroughly enjoyed yourself after a fun night out with friends. There is no angry brother waiting for you at home, blowing up your phone until you walk through the door. And now you’re out on a post-curfew rendezvous with someone who is clearly off limits.

You’re living out your rebel dreams, riding into the night with Eddie. What a regular young adult takes for granted is something you’ve always dreamt about. It’s a dream you don’t want to wake up from.

“I can hang. It's just the edibles kicking in late, silly," you bubbly insist.

“Alright,” Eddie surrenders sarcastically. “Alright. Whatever gets you going…silly.”

You two proceed down the long, vacant road, humming along to Creedence Clearwater Revival and breaking the law with more California stops.

"It's a bummer we didn’t get to go bar-hopping,” you say. “That would've been fun.”

Eddie grimaces. “Eh. Drinking makes me feel gross. I’m more of a mary-jane guy if I do say so myself.”

“Clearly,” you jest.

A whole night dedicated to edibles? Hotboxing competitions with the line cook? Bongs and bowls happening to be everywhere this motherfucker tends to be at?

Eddie’s a walking marijuana leaf as far as you're concerned. Governor Holocomb's worst nightmare. You kick at the velvet bag that masked the huge glass bong sitting at your feet.

“I’m surprised they haven’t arrested your ass yet.”

“I’m just as surprised as you are," Eddie admits. "With all the shit I’ve done…”

The road begins to look familiar and you realize it’s because you’re almost back home. Tick, tick, tick, goes the turn signal as Eddie's GPS instructs him to make a left. A sigh escapes you. You don’t want to leave.

You want time to freeze exactly where it's at so you could spend it with the man who has been giving you butterflies — and the ‘fuck me’ eyes — all night long. To your own surprise, confidence overpowers you.

“Eddie,” you sit up. “Do you think you can stay with me for a bit?”

Your boss’s gaze hardens, a look of concern replacing his easy-going, playful demeanor.

“Yeah,” he clears his throat, brows lifting gently in shock. “Yeah... I’ll stay with you."

Eddie makes a turn away from your street and finds a curb to park against. You tap your feet, anxious that he actually followed through. The sound of his tires scraping across the gravel beat against your eardrums as reality sets in. Eddie shifts the gear from Drive to Park before wriggling his keys out from the ignition. The rumbling of the van engine ceases.

Eddie lassos his keys around his thick, long index finger, their jingles piercing through the quiet.

"You feeling alright?”

“Yes,” you confirm. “Just feeling pretty buzzed still.”

“You trying to get more buzzed?” he offers. “Or high?”

You look back over at him. Oh wipe that snarky grin off your face, Munson.

There's a pro to working evening shifts. You can sleep in until it's time to head off to work the next day. Judging by how the night was going, it is far from over. You and Eddie are just getting started.

“It depends...Are you trying to get more high?”

“Is that even a question?”

Before you know it, there's a small tin can with a few nuggets in it in Eddie's hand, followed by a small Altoid case that housed some rolling paper. Eddie places the two on his dash and then leans towards you to grab the bong sitting at your feet.

He undresses it from its cloak. His pride and joy glistens in the moonlight.

“Hello, my darling,” he says to his bong. “You’re so pretty.” Eddie turns to you. “I’ve got nowhere to be, so you bet I’ll be usin’ the hell outta her tonight. No pressure though, Hargrove.”

You shrug. “I'm down to get lit for a bit longer."

"You a joint girl or do you prefer bongs?"

"Either or. Why not both?"

There’s a gleam in his eyes. "I like how you think."

Eddie situates the large bong between his legs, propping it up with his knees. He then reaches for the tin can filled with nuggets. Picking off the bits one by one to accommodate the tiny bowl, he tucks them neatly into the small round outlet. Eddie does it with such ease. Like it's second nature.

Finally, Eddie hovers the lighter over the bowl and gestures for you to inch closer. The placement of the bong remains the same. And judging by the look on Eddie’s face, he doesn’t intend on moving it.

"Ladies first."

So you hoist yourself over across Eddie’s center console and position yourself near his lap. Staring up at Eddie with curious eyes, you ask him,

"Am I good?"

"You're good," Eddie confirms, holding your hair back while you lean over against him. “All yours, babygirl.”

After getting the green light, you bend down further to attach your lips to the mouthpiece of the bong. With the flick of the lighter, Eddie ignites the bowl and you suck in. You and Eddie eye its neck steadily, watching as the chamber fills with smoke.

Eddie slowly starts to remove the bowl. Fear sets in as the bubbles seem to draw on for an eternity. It feels like it'll never end. You're inhaling too much.

When you feel the first kick to your chest, you shoot upwards and exhale. But the smoke got you good. Before you know it, you’re coughing and hacking and grasping for air, clutching onto Eddie’s flannel for support as you try to clear.

"That's right, baby," Eddie soothes you. "Let it out. Clear it, clear it, clear it."

“I’m-” you cough. “I’m t—trying.” A few more good coughs and you’re done. “WOOO.”

Eddie’s laughing at you like it’s cute. The grip he has on your hair loosens and soon your locks fall in front of your face once more. You keep them there to mask your tears. How embarrassing.

"Damn,” he comments. “You choked out.”

Your stomach dances. You think about what he said earlier in the club about his kinks.

"Yeah, I s-sure did-" you choke again, fleshing out your last set of coughs as Eddie pats your back.

The tears trickle down your face as you struggle to self-regulate. You quickly wipe them away.

"You okay?' he asks again, this time gently, sincerely. Angelically. He starts playing with the ends of your hair.

You nod with a sigh of relief. "Yeah, I'm fine."

"You want more, hun? Can you handle more?"

You nod again.

"Yeah," you sniff. "I can handle more."

"Alright," he grins.

Bowing your head down once again, you reattach your lips to the mouthpiece. As you're inhaling, Eddie tilts his head upwards to prevent any smoke from getting in his face. You look up at him.

What a sight, your internal monologue gushes. He must look like this when he's getting a...

"There we go, Shy Girl” he hums. "Just like that..."

————🍃———-

“It’s alright. I said it’s alright. Take anything you want from me. Fly high, little wing.”

“So my driving really doesn’t scare you, huh?”

Eddie is taking ginormous rips out of his bong. You, on the other hand, have settled for rolling joints instead.

“Not nearly as much as my brother,” you shrug. “He drives like a maniac. Him and his stupid Camaro.”

You think about the time you and Billy got into an argument about lunch. Out of all things.

Billy had asked something SO obvious. You couldn’t help but respond sarcastically. He stomped on the gas before you knew it, propelling you both across the residential street at 90 MPH. It was scariest you’ve ever seen him. The first instance where he toyed with both your lives and didn’t seem to care.

You try not to shake in front of Eddie. Luckily, he was too busy laughing to notice.

“A Camaro?” Eddie belts. “That’s just about the douchiest, California Chad type shit I’ve ever heard.”

You agree. “Yeah. Douchey is pretty on brand for someone like Billy.”

You fall silent as you continue to roll. Eddie peers over at you and takes note of your newfound seriousness.

You position your body towards him to ensure him it wasn't something he did, and make sure he knows it by the way you relax your legs across his lap. He inhales abruptly at the extra step you took.

"I take it you guys don't get along."

"Billy and I aren’t exactly on speaking terms at the moment,” you mumble. “Part of why I'm here.”

“Your brother right?” he questions rhetorically.

“Yeah, my twin brother.”

“Oh shit,” Eddie mutters. “So you guys went from being essentially telepathic to... no contact at all.”

“Precisely.”

You glide your tongue up, down, and around along the rolled joint to ensure that it sticks. When it's sealed shut, you set it down to start rolling the next one. Eddie stares at you.

“Fuck…” you hear him mutter.

“Sorry?”

You try to act clueless, but even stoned out of your mind, you know exactly what you're doing.

“Uh, that’s rough,” he shakes his head. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s whatever,” you say. “As much as I love Billy, I just think it’s best we’re not in each other’s lives. We bring out the worst in each other.”

“I can say the same about me and my brothers,” Eddie agrees. “And my dad. They’re always asking me for money. Or for me to be an accomplice for their stupid, dangerous schemes. I got my own shit to handle.”

“And your mom?”

Eddie falls silent.

“She died when I was 14,” his voice softens. “I was the one who found her.”

Your chest aches as you marinate in that very, very familiar wound. It seems like just yesterday you and Billy were in Eddie's shoes.

“I’m so sorry,” you mutter. “Billy found our mom when we were 13. Alcohol poisoning and overdosed on pain killers.”

“Wow…” Eddie is stunned. “OD for mine as well. But heroine. She was an addict. Married her dealer and abuser... my old man.”

"Our dad was abusive too," you sympathize. "Well, is. He's still alive, but he and his new wife up and left when my stepsister turned 16. To who knows where. Billy was her guardian up until her b-day last week.”

You roll your next blunt and lick again. Eddie continues to eye you like a hawk, fixing how he was sitting in the driver's seat as he did.

You continue telling him everything you told your Zoom psychiatrist. Eddie doesn’t seem to mind.

Billy was nice. Now he’s not. Blah blah. Sue, Max’s mom, was Dad’s mistress. The idea of it consumed Mom just as much as Dad’s beatings did. When Billy found her, she was on the bathroom floor surrounded by empty bottles of whiskey and painkillers. Aside from you, Mom was his best friend. His biggest supporter. And Dad took that away.

Eddie’s grazing turns into rubbing. He squeezes your calf.

"Our moms died when we were around the same age," he speaks up, attempting to do the mental math. "That puts us in '08, which is around the time of..."

"The Recession," you finished for him. "Yup. Mom also lost her job which meant she was now fully dependent on our dad."

"She was stuck with that piece of shit no matter what," Eddie huffs. "And no matter where she turned, she wouldn't be safe."

You nod, staring off into the distance. "Billy wanted to go with her.”

Eddie gives you a pained look, sighing deeply as he took it in.

“But I told him I would hate him forever if he dared. So he stayed."

You swallow hard.

“Baby-” Eddie speaks.

"I hate him, still..." you choke back tears. "But I'm glad it's just because I think he's an asshole. He's my whole world."

"But you can't be in each other's lives."

"But we can't be in each other's lives."

"Love from afar kinda thing," Eddie mumbles.

"Exactly," your voice is at a whisper now. "I can never be mad at Mom though, for taking the easy way out. I wouldn't know what the fuck to do if I were in her shoes."

"I'm really sorry, Hargrove." Eddie says. "It seems like you lost more than your mom."

"I'm sorry for your loss too," you reply.

Silence lingers. Eddie continues to touch you. You love how handsy he is tonight. His touch brings you calm. Made you feel looked after. Protected. Cherished.

“I like listening to you talk,” Eddie soothes you.

You smile. “Did we just turn this into a therapy session?”

“Looks like we did,” he chuckles softly. Eddie raises a toast with the foggy, smoked-out bong in his hand. "To the Asshole Dad & Dead Mom Club."

You hold up your lopsided joint.

"To the Asshole Dad & Dead Mom Club," you repeat after him. "And to the brothers we don't speak to anymore."

"Can't forget that shit," he says. "To the brothers we don't speak to anymore."

————🍃————

“I want you so bad, it’s driving me mad.”

The night continues on a lighter, flirtier note.

“What’s your love language?” Eddie asks you.

“Acts of service.”

“Mmm.”

“Not like that.”

“I know, I’m just fucking with you,” Eddie winks. “Makes sense though. I see it.”

“What’s yours?”

“Physical touch.”

You look down at your feet, still laid out across Eddie’s lap. A few moments ago he just wrapped up giving you a foot massage after convincing you that you were free to take your heels off.

“Acts of service as well,” Eddie smiles. “It’s 50/50.”

“I can tell,” you say.

“Yeah? How so?”

You run a foot across Eddie’s thigh, watching in amusement as his blinking quickens. He bites his lip and hums.

“I can just tell,” is what you end up saying.

“You can just tell?” Eddie bites his lip. “No other way of knowing?”

“Nope,” you giggle, gliding your foot to the inner part of his thigh. “Just a wild guess.”

Your feet do a little dance on Eddie. He tries to tickle you but you pull away.

“I think Steve’s is acts of service too,” you add. “And gift giving.”

“Nailed it,” Eddie confirms with a nod. “Harrington loves providing. Daddy Steve.”

He smirks at you when he says that. With the info you retained at Hellfire, it’s impossible to think what he’s saying isn’t an innuendo. Your foot being just inches away from his dick didn’t help the case either.

“Daddy Steve,” you echo him. “Yeah, I can tell he loves taking care of people he cares about.”

“It didn’t always used to be that way,” Eddie points out. “I used to think he was an asshat.”

“Then what happened?”

“Nancy Wheeler happened.”

The mood darkens.

“Damn…” you mutter. “It always boils down to House Mom.”

“Because it’s true,” Eddie insists. “Steve was a self-absorbed prick in high school. Then he dated Wheeler senior year. On and off. Something changed in him, when they were done for good.”

Eddie readjusts himself in his seat. You adjust yourself with him.

“It was like…” he proceeds. “Steve realized that there was more beyond himself and wanted to be a part of this greater good. It wasn’t until he started working at the bowling alley I used to frequent that I realized that he’s a pretty decent guy.”

“Like everything’s one big redemption arc for him,” you state.

“That’s exactly what it is.”

“He worked at the bowling alley?”

“He’s worked everywhere,” Eddie laughs. “Dude had so many side quests and jobs. It’s gotten to the point to where I start to wonder where he hasn’t worked.”

“Hellfire,” you point out.

“Yeah, Hellfire,” Eddie nods. “Kinda wish he did. Maybe then I can get a day off…”

“What would you do on your day off?”

“Take you out to lunch finally.”

Your gazes fixate on each other. Eddie’s cheeks turn a red hue in the moonlight, the streetlight you guys were parked under illuminating it further.

The cheeky grin on his face vanishes quickly, the moment he disengages his eye contact with you.

"Yeah, Steve... Steve's a good guy," Eddie gulps. He stares down at his lap. Touches your legs again. "One of the greatest friends I've ever had in my life."

“Mhm…”

“And now he’s my boyfriend,” he teases you with a wink.

You tsk. “Be for real.”

“Nah, I’m just playing — he’s actually my husband,” he jokes again. “And you’re just a pretty lil thing of his on the side.”

“So you think I’m pretty?”

“That’s what you got from that?”

“Who am I to get in the way of your marriage?”

“It makes things complicated between the three of us, that’s for sure.”

There’s a hint of truth in that sentence. You can tell by the way Eddie refuses to look you in the eyes again. For someone who is intentional with his eye contact, him not wanting to look your way when he says that makes it look suspicious.

Eddie cuts it with the jokes and starts up again.

“But yeah, I think you’re pretty.”

“Thank you, Eddie,” you respond, drawing circles onto his inner thigh now with your feet. You do it slower. Then deeper. Clockwise then counter.

“That’s it.”

Finally, he hoists your legs off of him. To your surprise, it’s Eddie now that’s crawling towards you, closing up the space there was between you two. Now you and him are both just a thumb-width apart, faces lingering. The hunger is back.

You feel Eddie’s warm breath against you.

“I’d say a hell of a lot more about you,” Eddie adds. “But I don’t wanna get in trouble.”

“That’s new,” you quip. “For as long as I’ve known you, you always gave off rebel vibes.”

“I’m trying to be good.”

“You’re failing miserably.”

You both look down at Eddie hand that is now resting at your waist. He laughs through his nose, pulling you closer to him.

“Touché.”

With his available hand, he strokes your hair, tucking a strand behind your ears. His fingers explore your cheek and take a detour to your plump lips, hovering around them as you part them slightly.

“You have no idea how hard I’ve tried to not cross any boundaries tonight,” Eddie admits. “To not get any closer to you.”

“Why not?” you whisper.

"I don't wanna ruin whatever you and Harrington have going on…”

"We're just fuck buddies," you insist. “Swear.”

Steve wouldn’t care. You know he wouldn’t. He was the one who even said that you both should give Eddie a little show. Besides, you already know it’ll be a long while until he’s officially over Nancy.

"Of course," Eddie huffs.

"Why?" you raise an eyebrow as you breathe in his face. "Are you jealous?"

"Well when you sound the way you did this morning, how could I not be?"

There it was.

The confirmation of what you already suspected closes in on you and you feel yourself shrink. Eddie enjoys the sight of it, the sight of Shy Girl growing tense just by the way he speaks to you. His fingers dance up your arm before he starts to rub your back.

“And the way you looked the day you gave Steve that private show…” he strains. “It’s like you were made for me and only me.”

“Eddie…” you moan.

“Do you know what it was like? Hm?” Eddie demands. He’s hot against your cheek now. “Touching myself, getting myself off in the bathroom to the sound of your moans? Knowing full well you were getting your back blown out just a wall over?”

You whimper as he continues to hover, the ache of wanting to be touched and destroyed by him gnawing at your soul.

“Gettin’ all dumb for me already?” Eddie taunts you when you don’t speak. “I haven’t even fucked your brains out yet.”

“Just still a little high that’s all.”

That snaps something back into Eddie. “Oh… right.”

You hear his keys jingle again before Eddie turns them back into the ignition. His headlights flash on and soon he shifts the gears back to drive. Away from the curb and back to your place you go.

Your stomach sinks.

“What are you doing?”

“Not this!” Eddie refuses. “Not when you’re not sober.”

“Eddie!” you start to regret ever saying anything. “Come on, I’m fine. I want you.”

“Yeah, well that’s another thing in my doctrine,” Eddie sighs. “I can’t mess with a lady under the influence. I don’t roll that way.”

He routes his GPS back to your place.

“I hate when you’re respectful,” you joust, crossing your arms in retaliation.

He laughs.

“Don’t worry sweetheart,” he says to you. “Next time you’re at work, I’m gonna be disrespectful as fuck.”

The night ends there and Eddie drops you off. He makes sure you get inside safely before driving away. Sadness sets in as the drugs and alcohol wear off. You drag your feet along as sneak your way into you and Max’s room.

You dream of Eddie that night. Him and Steve.

You’re in a private show room at Hellfire with the two Adonises after your heart. Steve’s destroying your pussy again, ramming into you at an intense speed while Eddie fucks himself into your mouth, his warm, sweet precum mixing with your saliva to fill your mouth to the brim.

A moan escapes you every single time Eddie hits the back of your throat.

“That’s right, baby,” Eddie coos. “Don’t be shy. C’mon, take me.”

You try not to scream as you dig your nails into his skin. Tears are streaming down your face as Eddie and Steve abuse your holes, the stimuli from both nearing you towards your climax.

“Such a good fucking girl,” Steve growls pulling you by your hair. “Taking two cocks at the same time like a champ, hm?”

Eddie releases you from his grip, allowing you to come back up for air. You spit the remnants of him back onto his long and girthy cock, stroking him while you gave your jaw a rest.

“Y-yes,” you choke out, arching your back to maximize the sensation of Steve’s thrusts. “I’m being so good.”

You beg for Steve to fuck you harder. Steve and Eddie look to each other and smirk, pleased that you even want to be challenged.

“Harrington’s got you, don’t you worry,” Eddie assures you. “On your back sweetheart.”

Steve pulls out and lets you use him as support. When you’re on your back, he grabs his cock again, stroking himself before lining himself at your tight little asshole.

“I’m gonna let you know when I go in, babe, okay?” he whispers to you, smothering your neck with kisses.

“Okay,” you nod sheepishly.

Eddie kneels down and lines himself up at your dripping cunt, kissing you on the mouth before inserting himself into you.

You let out a silent gasp as he maneuvers his way in, stretching you out even further than Steve already did.

“Oh my god,” you cry.

“Fuuuck,” Eddie moans, hand flying over your throat to wrap itself around you. “You feel so fucking good, baby.”

Then Steve starts letting himself in. He pumps into you slowly, not proceeding until you start adjusting to his length. You lay there in complete bliss, allowing them both to have their way.

“Good job, angel,” Steve cheers you on. “Being so good for us. So fucking tight…”

The speed of their thrusts are agonizingly slow. You tap them both on the arm to let them know they can speed up. They resist at first, attempting to make sure it’s really want you want.

“Please,” you whine. “I want it now, please.”

Eddie’s gaze turns grim. “Whatever you say.”

SMACK! You whimper as Eddie swats your bouncing tits and pistons into you deeper, faster. Steve meets Eddie where he’s at, picking up the pace from underneath you, holding your hips still for extra leverage.

“SHIT!” you squeal. “Y-yes, yes, right there. Don’t fucking stop!”

Three more pumps and they both hit that special spot. You start to shake as your core tightens. It feels too fucking good.

“Dirty fucking whore,” Eddie spits at you while you cry out in pleasure. “There’s no running away now baby, this is what you wanted.”

Slapping. Biting. Choking. Hair-pulling. Name-calling. Spitting. You wanted it all.

“FUCK!” you wail. “I’m gonna fucking cum. I’m cumming, I’m cumming!”

“Let it out, baby,” Eddie encourages you. “Let it out. Make a mess on both of us, there you go.”

That sentence is enough to send you over the edge. Your core is hot, walls twitching and aching.

“FUCK!” you scream one last time before —

“SIS!”

Max jolts you awake, shaking you by your shoulders.

“What? What?!” you shoot up in the bed.

“Are you okay?” Max pants. “You’re sweating like a pig.”

Now that’s a dream you didn’t ever wanna wake from. Reorienting yourself to your room, you find it hard to believe how real everything felt. You grip onto your sheets to make sure you’re really in your room.

“Yeah, I…” you stammer. “I…had a nightmare.”

“I can tell, you were making all kinds of noise in your sleep.”

Max scurries over to your dresser to retrieve your Hydroflask. She encourages you to hydrate yourself.

“I drank tonight,” you admit after a huge gulp of water. “Probably what caused it.”

“Makes sense,” Max nods, hands on her hips like a concerned mother. “You gonna be alright?”

“Yeah,” you nod. “Just need a breather.”

You grab your phone and use the flashlight feature to navigate to the bathroom. As you’re peeing, you take a look at the two text messages waiting for you.

Steve Harrington 💋

Made it home lol

Sorry,passed out. Goodnight, beautiful ❤️

You text Steve goodnight before making your way over to the next text message. Eddie.

Eddie Boss

Sweet dreams. Silly.

👸

—————————

author’s note: the steddie threesome dream was inspired by this tiktok 🥵 foaming at the mouth tbh. I HOPE YOU GUYS ENJOYED THIS CHAPTER AND THE DREAM THREESOME WITH STEVE & EDDIE! don’t worry, eddie x shy girl irl fuck fest smut is coming. some juicy shit has to go down first before we cross that bridge ;)

tag list: @changemunson , @the-fairy-anon , @ali-r3n , @corrodedcoffincumslut , @bebe07011 , @mmunson86 , @eddiesguitarskills , @chelebelletx , @imonhereforareasonsadly , @eddies-trailer-babe , @hideoutside , @motherfckerrr , @jxpsi , @munson-magic , @lindseyj23 , @sidthedollface2 , @manda-panda-monium , @elvendria

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[httpknjoon]

proof, they say | ksj

plot | Every proof that random people took just to prove your relationship.

words | 2.2k+

genres | humor/crack, fluff, actors!au

pairing | actor!jin x famous!reader

note | usernames used in the fic are all fictional. this "thread" is briefly mentioned in lie detector test. I was second-guessing if I should post this for a while. now, I am posting it before the finale! I have more proofs but I chose not to put it here anymore! if you want to read more proofs, send me an ask and I'll gladly reply with it. enjoy reading!

main masterlist | drabble series

Sometime in 2021, Twitter user @/bluemoon04 posted a thread of tweets, which later became one of the most essential posts in the YN-JIN fandom. It was published just weeks later after Jin’s Lie Detector Test video from Vanity Fair and it gets an update every time someone gets more proof of The A-Listers’ real relationship.

As of December 2022, the thread has almost eighty-nine thousand likes and thirty thousand and four hundred plus retweets and requotes. The proofs posted can be hit or miss. But user bluemoon04 shares it anyway and lets the others share their thoughts about it. Others can also submit their own proofs to the account through direct message.

Proof no. 1: [THAT TUMBLR POST IN JANUARY 2019]

behind the scenes...

A twenty-second video was posted on Tumblr sometime in the last quarter of 2019 by a newly-made account. The post only had three tags: #YN, #JIN, and #YNJIN. The algorithm worked and published the video in everyone’s feed. It received a thousand notes by the twenty-four-hour mark. It also reached other social media sites. Mostly, Twitter.

Fans— even the local audience is in awe after watching the video. What’s in it? You might wonder.

It’s just you and Jin sitting on a bench under a light post on a dark night in a lakeside park. It was seemingly taken during the production of Maybe Yes, Maybe No. It was a crowded place with the crew and staff members walking around to do their job while the actors wait on the side.  Amidst the busy background, you and Jin can be seen enjoying ice cream on cones as you chat, inaudibly.

It looked like you two were busy in your own world while the crew members carry stuff around the set. Jin said something that made you laugh hard.

“God! That was terrible!” you told him before laughing at whatever Jin said.

“You loved it!” he replied.

Those were the only audible dialogue from the clip. You two continued talking as you eat the cold treat. And based on everyone who saw the video, Jin can melt– not just the ice cream– but also you with how he stared at you intently while you tell your story. You then paused when you felt the weight of his stare, your eyebrows raised. He chuckled, shaking his head, before wiping the ice cream on the corner of your lips with his thumb. The video ended when a crew member walked up to you two.

Proof no. 2: [JIN SIGHTINGS IN LESS LIKELY PLACES pt. 1]

@/multifan0303: OH MY GOD OH MY GOD MY MOM JUST SENT ME THIS 

The tweet was originally posted in January 2020. The first picture was Jin’s signature on a piece of paper. For the second and last one, there’s a picture of the original poster’s mom with the actor. It’s not new for Jin to take pictures with fans he is out in public. But what made the whole fandom crazy about it is it was taken in a pet store and he was holding a basket full of cat food and supplies.

replying to @/multifan0303

- @/multifan0303: my mom doesn’t know who he is. but she saw her other customer that time asking for a picture with him so she asked for a picture and autograph too HDJSKLJFKDSLGKLJFDS

– @/greenpr4da: look at that basket

— @/v3rsaceyn: and you’re telling me jin hates cats????

—- @/franchiecat: he doesn’t even have a cat 😭

Proof no. 3 [LIVING TOGETHER ALLEGATIONS PT. 1]

During the first lockdown during the pandemic in 2020, everyone began suspecting about you and Jin living together in a house in Connecticut. With a lot of free time, the media managed to find a real estate posted online located in the said state that apparently looked like the house you were rumored to be living together in.

con mi hija 🌸

You captioned it in one of your Instagram posts in 2020. It was a selfie of you with Francheskat in your backyard. The picture was focused on your pet and only half of your face can be seen. A wall from your house can also be seen, showing that your home does have a stone exterior. Since you are more active on social media than Jin, your eagle-eyed fans also spotted in a different picture that you also have the identical Victorian lamp that the actor had behind him during a virtual interview.

“Just tell us are you and Y/N living together?!” Donny asked jokingly during an online fundraiser event with you, Jin, and other friends.

Jin shakes his head, laughing, “We’re not.”

“We do!” you huffed dramatically. “No one told me this man doesn’t know how to wash his laundry!”

Other participants laughed at your exaggerated and sarcastic tone. That was the first time you two acknowledged the gossip publicly and it was definitely not the last. You acknowledged it again when you greeted him on his birthday.

Proof no. 4: [BUB]

Both supporters and the press caught on Jin slipping his endearment for you during events with you back in 2021. Fans made video compilations and listed down the times your co-actor called you ‘bub’ on numerous occasions. Sometimes it was hushed, sometimes it felt like it just slipped from his lips. Jin finally addressed it when W Magazine brought up the topic during a magazine cover with you.

“Yeah, why do you call me that?” you turned your head to him, still in your look for the editorial shoot you two did.

Jin’s lips broke into a smile as he looked at you. He rested his chin on his palm when he answered, “It’s nothing really… It just slips out, bub”

As far as everyone witnessed from his whole career in Hollywood, you were the only co-worker Jin sometimes calls by a nickname. He never explained where it came from and was only questioned about it once.

Proof no.5: [THE TALE OF FRANCHESKAT]

“Yeah, that’s my lovely daughter, Francheskat.” you shared when Stephen Colbert brought up the picture of your pet.

“I heard she’s from an animal shelter in London. Is that right?” the host asked and you nodded from your seat.

“Yes! I visited a few shelters there during the production of my new film there and I was in awe when I first met her!”

“Oh, so you adopted her right away from that moment?”

“I didn’t…” you shook your head. “I was too busy and I was only in London for less than two weeks. My schedule was jampacked, and I never got to drop by the shelter again.”

“But I have a friend who saw how much I want to have this beautiful cat and surprised me like a month later after I got back in LA. It was so unexpected, I cried.” you laughed.

That interview was in 2017, months before the release of your first movie with Jin. Francheskat was the main reason why you made an Instagram account again after deactivating your old account back in 2016. Based on your fans’ calculations, you recently just finished filming Cornelia Street when you began posting about your cat. And Jin was seen in London around the same time you shot your own scenes there.

These facts strengthen your fans’ belief that Jin was the friend you were talking about. Especially with how close your co-star is to your cat, even though he claims he isn’t a big fan of felines.

Proof no. 6 [Y/N SPOTTED IN LESS LIKELY EVENTS  PT.1]

“I don’t really celebrate any holidays.” you shared during an interview back in 2014. “I just spend those days like my other rest days except I send gifts to my friends.”

You have been living alone ever since you were emancipated from your father’s control. You usually sleep or work through Christmas and New Year’s eve or any other commonly big holiday, treating it as a normal day. You always find it exhausting to prepare for such events when you live alone. The only special event you celebrate is your mom’s or close friends’ birthdays. Your fans are aware of this fact and made sure to send you sweet greetings during holidays as you post pictures from your home. You were never spotted outside either by the press during these events.

@/DonnyNextDoor: happy thanksgiving from us!!

In the celebration of Thanksgiving Day back in 2021, Donny posted a photo of your circle of friends. You stood next to Bella Hadid, who was Donny’s girlfriend at the time. Next to you were Jin and your three other mutual friends.

@/daisiesandroses: omg yn holiday contents

Fans were happy to see you with friends during that time. They expected that you will post something for Christmas and New Year’s too. However, you only posted an Instagram story each, greeting everyone. Someone claimed they spotted you in New York for Times Square Ball but no pictures floated online.

Proof no. 7: [VERSACE ON THE FLOOR]

It has been known to everyone that you have always been a massive admirer of the luxury fashion brand, Versace. Donatella has been a great friend of yours ever since you became a brand ambassador for the said brand when you were 22. And even though you had contracts with other brands in the following years, you maintained a good relationship with her. You’ve also been invited to fashion week events and you always try to go if your tight schedule can accommodate it. You were even featured in Bruno Mars’ music video for his hit song, Versace On The Floor.

@/SE0KJINM00N: SOMEONE SEND ME THAT PHOTO HE DELETED IT!!

@/hellobubba: was that versace on that fucking floor or am i seeing things

@/peopleoncrnlstrt: LMAO he deleted the ig story

But sometime in 2019, Jin posted a picture in his Instagram Stories which he deleted less than two minutes later. The photo is simple. It was a picture of the latest book he read. He was holding it down, seemingly an innocent one. But if you travel your eyes to the upper corner of the image, even though the background’s a little blurry, a black piece of clothing can be seen. It was immediately recognizable due to the fact that it has the word Versace printed all over it. 

And since you were the closest person to him that everyone knows, the fans assumed it was yours. You were once seen a couple of years ago sporting a bikini top with the same design, just different colors. People searched online and found that there is, indeed, a Versace one-piece swimsuit with the exact design.

Although the photo was never talked about in public, that Versace mystery became an inside joke in the fandom.

Proof no. 8: [LIVING TOGETHER ALLEGATIONS PT. 2]

urfavecatlady started a live video. Watch it before it ends!

August 2020. You had a five-minute live on your Instagram account, simply just to chat with your fans while you were waiting for your cookies in the oven. It was short yet chaotic.

“Oh, I tried baking today! I saw an easy recipe online. I’ll share the link on Twitter later.” you answered a fan as you put down your phone. You sported a now-messy apron. The apron? It was a gift from Timmy. He learned I love ba–”“

“Ouch!”

Someone exclaimed in the background, followed by the noises of something falling on the ground. You paused and looked at whatever was behind your phone. Your eyes widened. But you tried to compose yourself as you look back at the camera.

“Francheskat jumped on some– on my stuff. Gotta go! I’ll update y’all with the cookies later. Bye!” your voice trailed off as you end the Instagram Live.

@/amymarchdefender: i think i heard someone during yn’s live

@/princessbubblegum: is she quarantining with someone???!?

Some fans claimed it was not Francheskat, but Jin. Although the mystery voice was not that audible, they claimed it was him. Others believed that maybe you are really going through lockdowns with someone who is not Jin. There are few people who believe that you really have a longtime secret partner, someone who is not in the same industry as you. Nonetheless, everyone never knew who it was.

The thread still receives updates from time to time even though you took a break and Jin is not really that active on social media. The owner of the tweet still gets submissions from various fans.

Now, October 2023. Jin hasn’t had any public appearances since his series premiere on HBO. He is still in for Waller-Bridge’s movie. You, on the other hand, were getting gossip that you will be having a cameo with Greta Gerwig’s Barbie. Some believed that you will be retiring or will take years to come back. Both of you two were not active on social media. Your last post in your Instagram feed was in August. And Jin’s was May.

But one of Hollywood's biggest celebrity gossip sources is the Instagram account, Deuxmoi, posted something that made a noise in your fandom.

Sent via form submission from Deuxmoi

Pseudonyms, Please: Cookie Monster

Email: [email protected]

Subject: Everyone’s Fave Cat Lady

Message: A friend of mine works in one of the longest-running live television shows. They said that a prominent A-lister actress is returning in front of the cameras after taking a sudden break for more than a year. Her comeback will be announced next week! Watch out!

taglist rules

THE A-LISTERS TAGLIST

@jub-jub @yoontaethings @kissme-ornot @sleepy-daydreams @veronawrites @cuteipat @ratherbefangirling @babystarcandy-gcf @akirawhore @alpacaparkaseok @rjsmochii @lovesickbangtan @rapmonie2047 @btsiguess-kpop @angelarin @walkinganxiety0 @bloopkook @yoooonie @amara-mars @firesighgirl @zwiehe @hiii-priestess @lojocas @juju-227592 @singukieee @eshtravagent @canarystwin @petalsofink

PERMANENT TAGLIST

@dunixxd​ @cixrosie​ @jksjx​ @embrace-themagic​ @buttvi​ @starbtslove​ @missseoulite @vanntaesworld @kenqki @pixybear @miyukihoshi @stopeatread @seolaquotes @greyrain23

#jin x reader #jin fluff #bts jin #jin fic #jin au #seokjin x reader #seokjin fanfiction #bts social media au #seokjin fluff #bts fluff #bts angst #bts x reader #bts imagine #bts series #bts au #bts fanfic #the a listers ksj

[fayrinferno]

The (printed) collection

From time to time I get a question like, "do you have this or that book?" So, a few weeks back, I finally took them all out of their hiding place and grabbed some photos. Wish I had used my camera instead of phone, I had to stand on a chair to get it all and yeah, the picture is not the sharpest.

Anyway, I have some other stuff, figures and such, although I admittedly DO focus more on books as an artist/writer/translator. These books are the ones I translate from so I wasn't going for mint conditions, although a few of them are. You can see some of them still packed in the store bags. I included the CDs cause... well, they were next to the books and they do have some printed material as well.

The Shiren Suiki book gets a separate photo cause after taking the photos at home I realized I had left it at work when I scanned it... practically crying as I did cause it was barely opened when I bought it and it's a beautiful book. My Anvils are also very fragile.

I may do a complete list one day but for now, here are the quick descriptions.

ARTBOOKS & FANBOOKS I have pretty much all of the major official books I think, missing maybe 1-2 pieces. The one that may look less familiar is Hiroshi Osaka's personal artbook. I also have four of the relevant Nobuteru Yuuki artbooks. The bottom right one with the orange title is the issue of Newtype Magazine with a feature about Esca.

SMALLER BOOKS (let's pretend that's a category) Here I got all the novels (they are out of their sleeves cause I was working on them), all the filmbooks, Secrets of Escaflowne, Escaflowne Bible, and the Energist Memories manga/doujin collection.

DOUJINSHI I was mostly going for stuff I haven't seen online so I only got a handful. Besides the Shiren Suiki book, there are three Minato Tajima doujins (one of them is racy heh but I'm not hiding that I have it). One of the other doujins may look unfamiliar; it's a compilation book that includes other series (the character on the cover is from DN Angel). People who talk to me on Discord probably recognize the Nanoka doujinshi cover.

CDs AND THE LIKE I don't have all the soundtracks for some reason, probably cause I thought the missing ones wouldn't be hard to get. The PSX game is the special edition with the tarot cards. The LDs that I literally bought just for the covers and inlays. I also have all the audio dramas, some CDs with extras... and a phone card that was for some reason packed in a CD case lol (kidding, it's precious that they would give it that kind of protection). Oh, and there are two movie posters which I guess don't fall under either category.

I have some other stuff that is kinda related to Esca "by association" such as by artist or things that "looked similar" but I didn't include them. Also the figures. I may update this post with those but this is the brunt of it. I will be posting some goodies from these soon!

Same goes for the ongoing translations that I've been doing updates on in this post. Life is too short to delay them for months and years because of perfectionism, or rather, being self conscious about one's imperfect language skills. I am thankful to everyone who has helped me so far, proofreading my translations (coverteyes, pikafwance, sevenstars, and radical-rad1986)... I'm not tagging you guys but know that I'm VERY grateful, also to the other people who are helping me with other projects). I always had fun working together with you but it's no longer sustainable and I likely bit off more than I can chew. So I will get myself out of the way. There are two books that are almost complete as of today so I will just probably go chapter by chapter. I hope to be done with this asap but also December is a busy month for me so I'm not sure how smoothly it will go. Let's hope it does.

#escaflowne #anime merchandise #artbook #fanbook #doujinshi

[fizzyxcustard]

What Is Possible.

Masterlist of fan fiction

Anything is Possible chapters: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7

Fandom: Robin Hood (BBC TV series)

Pairing: Guy of Gisborne x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Fluff, happy ending, family reunion, slight angst

Summary: Sequel to the fic, "Anything Is Possible." You and Guy are now married and have a one year old daughter, named Ghillie. You all go travelling together to see your parents who you have not seen for 18 months, since your interrupted wedding to Lord Edmund.

Comments: If you would like to be added to or removed from my tag list, please let me know.

I would like to dedicate this fic to two close friends. Firstly, @piggledy-higgledy who is the biggest Guy of Gisborne fan I know, and suggested the name of the baby. Thank you for believing in me. Secondly, @the-fragile-heart-of-a-lady I absolutely love our Guy banter and talking about him being jealous and burning houses down. I love you both. <3

“Ghillie,” you cooed. “Come on, darling.” 

The little girl giggled, her blue eyes focused on you. You reached out, encouraging her to come toward you. Then suddenly she began her unsteady stomps, her arms reaching up. But now her focus had shifted to just behind you. She wanted her father. 

Guy had walked in from out the back of the house, where he had been readying the carriage for all three of you to make the journey to finally see your parents. As soon as he saw his daughter’s chubby hands reaching for him, he couldn’t resist. Ghillie continued chuckling, stomping unsteadily towards Guy. 

You watched on in love as Guy scooped up the laughing one year old. He kissed her red cheek and then her almost-black hair. 

“The carriage is ready,” he said, holding Ghillie in one arm and then wound his other arm around your waist. 

Your mother and father had been in contact via letter now for around eighteen months, and today would be the first time that you all travelled as a family to see them. The town they were now living in was two day’s journey, but with a stopover at a small inn on the main road. 

The journey itself was quite uneventful for the most part. You sat with Ghillie on your lap, singing and talking to her, while Guy remained the steerer of the carriage. Every couple of hours and you would stop for a drink and to nurse Ghillie. The weather was bright, mild and dry, perfect for travelling. 

At the inn and Guy paid for a large suite for you both and Ghillie. There you all shared the large, four poster bed. 

“I wonder if this is the honeymoon suite,” Guy mused. “Not that I’d bring my bride here.”

You laughed. “Beggars can’t be choosers sometimes, Guy. Not everyone has the means to live in luxury.” 

Guy merely smirked and leaned over to you, kissing you. Ghillie was sat between you both, playing with her stuffed pony which Mary had made for her. Since your interrupted wedding to Lord Edmund, Mary the seamstress, had been a close friend. She had become almost a second mother to you, helping you in your questions towards motherhood. She was also Ghillie’s godmother. 

A short while later and you and Guy lay on your sides facing each other, with your sleeping daughter between you both. “I never thought this would be possible,” you said. “I seriously never thought I’d ever be happy like this.” 

Guy reached to you and laced his fingers through yours. He smiled and looked at your joined hands. “You’ve given me everything I ever wanted.” Then his steel blue eyes met your gaze. “I don’t deserve you or Ghillie, I know that…” 

“Guy, please…” 

“I don’t,” he continued. 

“Shh, come here, you stupid man,” you hissed. You kissed him hard, tugging at his thin tunic. 

“I do love it when you take charge,” Guy chuckled. “And when you scold me.” 

***

Finally you made it to your parents’ village. Guy took the carriage slowly through the main muddy track, where small houses were built on either side. There was a tavern, a blacksmiths and a few stalls in a field behind a chapel. 

Then you saw her from the small window of the carriage, your mother standing out the front of their house, waving to you. She was smiling broadly, something that she rarely did when she was in Nottingham. 

“Come on, Ghillie. I’ve got someone very special for you to meet,” you told your daughter. You picked her up and then stepped out of the open door of the carriage, which had been opened for you by Guy. In one arm you propped Ghille, and with your other hand, you held Guy’s. 

Your mother broke down into tears as she saw you, and then looked at her granddaughter. “C…can I hold her?” your mother asked. 

“Of course you can,” you said. 

You watched for a few seconds as your mother smiled at Ghillie, whispering ‘hello’ to her and then kissed her chubby fingers. “Her name is Ghislaine,” you said. “Ghislaine Sarah.” 

Your mother looked at you with wide eyes upon hearing Ghillie’s middle name be the same as her own. 

“Ghislaine was my mother’s name,” Guy said softly. “But we call her Ghillie for short.” 

“I can’t deny it but she looks just like you,” your mother chucked, looking up at Guy. 

You all went into your parents’ house and sat down in the main kitchen area, while your mother began preparing a kettle of tea. “Your father hopes to finish work up in the field a little earlier today. Are you planning on staying with us long?” 

“Umm, well, as long as you’ll have us,” you replied. “We’ve packed enough provisions for a week, and Guy is able to stand down from duty for a fortnight.” 

“We would love to have you permanently,” your mother laughed. “A week sounds perfect.” Ghillie was sat on your mother’s lap, having taken to her immediately, which was quite extraordinary as she normally didn’t like strangers. But your mother was the first person she had met without screaming. 

Your father later entered the house and embraced you tightly. It was the first thing he did. Then he apologised to you for all the heartbreak he had caused. “I was a coward. I know that. Edmund held a lot over me for years; he offered me money so that he could have you. That morning, I just knew what I had to do.” 

Your father hung his head in shame and then looked at Ghillie. “She’s beautiful,” he said softly. Then he looked at Guy. “Thank you for making my daughter happy, Gisborne.”

As dusk began to settle, your father took Guy down to the local tavern for a pint, while you remained at the house with your mother and Ghillie. Your mother was cleaning the pot from the stew she had made for dinner, while you dried the plates. Ghillie was sat on the floor, playing with her pony and a few toys that your mother had collected for your visit. The toys banged against the wooden floor, and with each bang, Ghillie giggled. 

“How are you and father doing?” you asked. 

“He knows I still hold resentment against him for what he did to you, but I pray often with the priest at the chapel. I want to let go of all the hate in my heart. It can be hard to live with him some days. All I can see is the coward that he was for so long.” 

“But he’s not that man now,” you countered. “Look what he did for me; that’s not the action of a coward. He saw what he was doing and he changed.” 

Your mother began to sob. 

You took her into your arms and held her, feeling her shake. “I think I hate myself more.” Her voice was muffled by your shoulder. 

“Mother, please,” you reasoned, pulling from the embrace. “I hold nothing against either of you for this. We know how hard things can be; father wanted to provide for the family. Edmund was a monster and he held sway over father with money. You can’t blame father for that. Money holds a lot of power, we all know that. I wish Guy would consider changing his work, but the money keeps us well provided for. You have to do what is right for your family. 

“Does he take care of you?” 

The instantaneous smile told your mother everything that she needed to know. “He dotes on us. Guy had quite a bad childhood and all he’s ever wanted is love in his life. I’ve never known a man with such an enormous heart. He seems like a walking contradiction in how cruel and callous he’s been known to be, yet with us, he would do anything we ask of him.” 

“As long as he cares for you both, that’s all that matters.” 

***

When your father and Guy arrived back from the tavern, the two of them were laughing. “It’s been a pleasure tonight, Gisborne,” your father said, and extended his hand. The two men shook hands, and it was here that you hoped the two of them would always have a good friendship. 

You retired to bed a while later, with Ghillie between you and Guy. She was already asleep, having been worn out from the day’s events. 

“Mother has said she will take Ghillie for a few hours tomorrow so that we can have time alone together,” you told Guy. You watched his face beam, and then his gaze drifted down to Ghillie. His fingers caressed her dark hair and he felt that all too familiar lump rise in his throat. It was the lump that reminded him of what was possible. 

“Are you alright?” you whispered. 

Guy’s gaze met yours, and it was now full of tears. 

“Do not say again that you feel undeserving,” you sighed. “Life does not deal in who deserves and who doesn’t. I gave my love to you freely, as you did me.” You reached out and cupped your husband’s cheek. “We both love you, Gisborne. We both love you for everything you are.” 

Guy couldn’t help but chuckle, and feel the tears fall down his cheeks. “I can’t even imagine what it would have been like if you had had Ghillie while married to Edmund. To see my child raised by another…”

“Guy, stop!” you exclaimed. “I didn’t marry Edmund. I married you. Ghillie is yours; she’s here with you every day. She carries your name, as do I, you stupid man.”

Guy smiled as you said those words again, playfully insulting him. 

“Give me that smile, Gisborne,” you said softly, and reached closer, kissing him. 

***

Follow Forever tag list: @lathalea @linasofia @xxbyimm @meganlpie @luna-xial @middleearthpixie @knittastically @guardianofrivendell @asgardianhobbit98 @eunoiaastralwings @rachel1959 @msjava1972 @lemond57 @mrsdurin @missihart23 @quiall321 @sazzlep @the-fragile-heart-of-a-lady @evenstaredits @catthefearless @glassgulls @aliasauthor @solairewisteria @littlebird-99 @court-jobi @heilith @albionscastle @absentmindeduniverse @way-too-addicted-to-fandoms

Guy of Gisborne tag list: @piggledy-higgledy @whoooooisthis @emmyspov

Anything Is Possible tag list: @purplerain85

#Guy of Gisborne #Guy of Gisborne x Fem!Reader #Guy of Gisborne x You #Robin Hood #Fanfiction

[tasavvur-e-jaana]

Pehli si Mohabbat

//

In lieu of all my works lost, I am reposting all my RRR fics here. Again. This series is a 10 part story centred around our protagonists and classical music and ghazals (my inspiration to write), a fanfic of a fanfic really.

This was the first thing I ever wrote for the fandom and even though I am a dormant admirer, loving the characters from the sidewalk, here you go.

P.s. The characters are not mine, they are entirely credited to Mr. Rajamouli and I am just borrowing them, one fanfic writer to another really. And yeah, the usual disclaimer... bla bla bla... you all know by now how it goes.

The fic is unbeta'd and I own my mistakes like Ram.

Hope you enjoy.

//

Chapter 1: Yaad Piya ki Aaye

“Yaad piya ki aaye…”

The sweet melody of the traditional thumri was wafting in the air, mingling with the buzz in the street of purani Dilli even close to eleven at night. The shops had closed and the porches were now filled by the food stalls and hawkers selling various delicacies that were the highlight of the city’s flavours. The aroma of chole, kulche, kebabs, nihari, biryanis, paratha and what not was ready to attack and entice one’s appetite on just entering the gali. The street was lit with lanterns that lent a rustic glow to the entire surrounding and one could see why Ghalib had fallen in love with the city, especially the nightlife of it.

A man clad in white pyjamas and light blue solid patterned kurta walked through the humdrum of the streets. He seemed to be in a hurry to reach somewhere, not at all pausing or even glancing at the vendors or people on the way, his legs falling in determined steps as he almost was going to burst into a sprint anytime soon. A small albeit sad smile involuntarily graced his lips as soon as he heard the thumri before he saw the house from whose window the melodious tune was emanating. The structure was modest, with old but sturdy construction and the said man did not knock before he opened the wooden door noiselessly to enter.

The scene that greeted Akhtar was this as soon as he crossed the dehliz of the house and closed the door even more slightly than before. Unsurprisingly there were books strewn everywhere, meaning literally everywhere with barely any space to walk on the floor. The furniture comprised of an ordinary table, a chair and a bed that could be called a four poster if we were being too generous, wide enough of a full grown man if not more. But amongst all the clutter there were two things that were absolutely Akhtar’s favourites. One, the gramophone that oozed the beautiful and heartfelt tunes and the other was a recliner wooden chair on which lay Ram, the third and the most favourite entity of Akhtar’s life.

The said man was relaxing on the chair (or the version of relaxation that Ram did) and was almost asleep as he had not noticed Akhtar enter. His eyes were closed, one hand resting on his stomach which was moving lazily as he breathed. His other hand was laying casually on the handle of the chair, lithe fingers moving gently with the tune playing. He would look younger than he was only if his brows would not have been furrowed, forehead creased and slightly tensed shoulders that carried the weight of the world on them even when he was not working. Akhtar winced internally at this observation on top of feeling guilty at being late for the dinner.

He wanted to give as much less worry that he could manage to his… no, not his. To Ram. For a few days now, he had started calling him Ram in his head instead of anna or bhai or bhaiya due to a reason that he’d locked so far down in his heart that he wouldn’t touch it with a 100 foot pole. As he stood there openly gawking at the man in question, because such instances where he could just observe the other were too rare and too precious for him to let go of. How he wanted to shake Ram and get him to confess what was always troubling him? What guilt did he carry in his heart that had travelled to his beautiful face and had permanently etched a frown on those lush lips. He wanted to shout at him until he cracked and shared all his worries with Bheem. Bheem. How he himself wished he could tell Ram his real name so that Ram would not call him by the false identity that he’d donned. Bheem spent too much time thinking about how it would sound from Ram’s mouth.

Yet he never asked for Ram to spill his heart out and share his burdens because he could never share his own secret with Ram. That would be sheer hypocrisy. But Bheem already was a hypocrite wasn’t he? The whole coming to Delhi to rescue Malli was like walking on a double edged sword that was kept on the fire that was sure to burn Bheem alive. A creaking noise of the wood and a soft, sleep ridden voice brought Bheem back to the present from his reverie.

“Akhtar! Akhtar!?” a snap of fingers in front of his face had Bheem startled. Oh, right. Ram had woken up. How long had he been standing there? Anyway, he shook his head internally, putting on a blinding smile that was partly genuine- because how can it not be when Ram was there? And that too looking at him amusingly with that glint in his eye?

“Han!” (Yes.) Well, time to be Akhtar again.

“Kin khayalon mein khoye huye the?” (What were you thinking?) Ram asked, eyes still twinkling as he added. “Ya phir kis ke khayalon mein khoye huye the ye poochhna chahiye?” (Or should I ask whose thoughts were you lost in?)

A sudden and unwanted blush crept up Akhtar’s face at the question. He jerked away from Ram’s intense gaze as he replied unconvincingly, “Kuchh bhi toh nahi, anna.” (Nothing, Anna) oh, how he hated that word now.

“Kyon bachchu? Mujhse se jhoot bologe? Tumhari aankhein bata rahi hai k koi hai.” (Will you lie to me? Your eyes reveal more than you know.) If Akhtar had not been persistently boring a hole in his chappals, he would have noticed that even though Ram was teasing, the smirk did not reach his eyes.

“Meri chhodo. Apni baat karo na. Wo main nahi jo bhaabhi ki yaad mein saare din virah ke geet sunta rehta hoon.” (Leave me be. Let's talk about you. I'm not the one who's listening to sad songs remembering Sita) Akhtar retorted with his own jibe. Now it was Ram’s turn to flush; that’ll show him, thought the younger man triumphantly.

“Ye behad khoobsurat thumri hai. Aur main dusre ras ke gaane bhi sunta hoon.” (This song is a classic. And I listen to other types of songs.) Ram defended himself as he shifted on his feet; how could he ever tell his friend that the song did not remind him of Sita. It had never reminded him of anyone until he met the gorgeous, wide eyed man standing in front of him that commanded all his thought recently. He turned toward the kitchen to get their food ready. Because, let’s face it, if they would spiral into one of their classic playful bickerings, they’d be standing in the middle of the room like a couple of morons for the whole night. And also, he knew Akhtar would be starving.

“Tum baitho main khana lagaata hoon.” (You wait I'll bring the food.) Just as Ram took one step forward, the record whizzed and stopped. Before he could go and flip it over, Akhtar beat him to it, starting a new song. Unfortunately, the record player was not on Ram’s side as the second song that started playing turned out to be another thumri in the same ras.

Akhtar looked at him knowingly as the words formed in vilambit laya (slow tune) setting the base of the song that went “Kaa karun sajni… aaye na balam”

“Dekha? Main na kehta tha?” (See? I know you too well.) Akhtar chuckled at a slightly peeved Ram, who had been betrayed by his own gramophone’s timings. And just to rile him up further, Akhtar added, “Agar aapke paas koi khushnuma kism ke gaane ho, to woh lagaate hain.”, (If you have some happy and fun songs, let's play those.) and started to remove the pin from the record to stop the song.

Ram lunged at him with catlike reflexes, catching Akhtar’s extended arm in his own hand. “Nahi. Rehne do na ise. Ise beech mein badlna matlab sangeet ki tauheen karna.” (No. Let this one play. To stop this song in the middle will be an insult to music.)

“Achcha, to iske baad lagaate hain.” (Fine. Then after this one.)

“Thik hai.” (Ok.) Ram acquiciesed, not letting go of Akhtar’s arm.

They both looked at each other, Ram feeling butterflies in his stomach as Akhtar beamed at him on getting his way. A moment and more passed as they stood in that position, Ram not letting go of Akhtar’s arm, growing more aware of it by the second. Akhtar’s arm feels warm on his skin, touch tingling to his very core. Ram was not aware how touch starved he was until this hurricane of a man entered his life and uprooted everything. He left Ram with a clean slate on which he could rewrite his emotions and beliefs. He loosened Ram in a way that no one else could. After the death of his family, Ram was alive but had not been living. He was but only a weapon seeking revenge and destruction of the Empire.

And Akhtar- that curly haired menace had thoroughly made a permanent residence in Ram’s heart in no time. He was like a hot cup of sweet chai on a rainy day that lifted up Ram’s spirits at any point of time with his mere presence in Ram’s vicinity. All the little touches that he bestowed freely on Ram were akin to a salve soothing his wounds from the inside, healing little by little with each pat on the back, held hands, tight hugs, casual arm around shoulder. Ram always gravitated toward it, seldom initiating the contact himself. But Akhtar never seemed to notice or if he did, he didn’t mind. Ram was so engrossed in his thoughts that he missed the loud growl the younger man’s stomach let out.

“Anna…” a voice seemed to call him. “Ram!” the voice called out loud. Ram jolted back to find himself in front of his friend who was calling him. “Um…” Akhtar seemed…flustered? Clearing his throat, the other man spoke sheepishly. “My hand…”. Ram dropped it and ran as fast as he could in the kitchen leaving an equally crimson Akhtar behind.

Akhtar went into the kitchen after gathering his wits about himself. Ram was preparing two plates, a small smile playing at the edge of his lips. Akhtar stopped short of entering, entranced by the beauty that Ram oozed doing such a simple chore. He admonished himself, chastising internally- he needed to work harder controlling his emotions in front of Ram. It would not be appropriate if Ram found out about it. Taking a deep breath, Akhtar masked his emotions lest they spill out at some very inopportune moment.

“Kya bana hai khane mein aaj? Pet mein chuhe nahi ab to haathi daud rahe hain.” (What’s for dinner? I am starving like anything.) He asked even though he saw the plate was filled with his favourite biryani. Ram was now filling the bowls with raita as he answered. “Tumhari manpasand cheez.” (It’s your favourite) Ram handed over Akhtar’s plate to the younger man, following him out in the room with his own.

They both settled on the chairs by the table plate in hand as the table too was fully cluttered with papers, books and miscellaneous paraphernalia. Akhtar had once made the mistake of setting things straight on the table so it would look a bit organized and Ram had thrown a fit like a child. No Akhtar! What are you doing? Everything is just as I want it to be. Don’t disarragne it! That was the first and last time Akhtar dared touch to oragnize things for Ram.

Ram let out a soft chuckle as Akhtar dug into his biryani like a man starved and let out an indecent moan. Ram gulped down air as his throat went dry suddenly. Frankly, Akhtar should be arrested for public indecency and more so for making Ram melt into a puddle of mush. The older man resorted to small talk to divert his focus onto something else. “Aaj aane mein der kaise hui? Kab se intezaar tha tumhara…”, (Why so late today? You were being waited for a long time by…) he paused, only for the curly haired man to look at him with such fondness and a little sorrow. Mujhe. (Me.) Ram wanted to say, instead he blurted out a little too loud, “Biryani ko.” (Biryani) He really was such an emotion stunted person! It was perfectly fine telling a friend that I’d been waiting for you, right? Right? Ram face-palmed himself internally.

Akhtar, on the other hand, went completely still, the biryani forgotten for a moment at the pregnant pause Ram took. His heart was racing million miles a minute as if it would just jump out and land at Ram’s feet in benediction. The way Ram was looking at him, Akhtar, just for a second dared to imagine he saw the same emotion in Ram’s eyes as his own. But how could it be? Ram thought of him as a little brother, a friend. He was only reflecting his own sentiments, an illusion that his vulnerable heart created for his mind. He shook it off, a bit disappointed and also relieved when Ram ended the sentence with a joke. Of course it was a jest. A slight admonishment at Akhtar being late, because Ram was too gentle and sweet to actually get angry at him even if he was upset.

“Maaf karna, anna. Aaj bahot zyada kaam aa gaya tha achanak se. Uss silsile mein waqt ka taqaazaa hi nahi raha. Par aap to kha lete na! Kyon mere liye…” (Sorry, anna. There was a sudden repair to be done and I lost the sense of time. But you could have eaten. Why wait for me?) his eyes were too sincere as his voice was laced with guilt.

Ram couldn’t take that. Someone like Akhtar should not be upset for such a trivial thing. He shouldn’t be upset ever. “Akhtar,” he cut in, “Koi baat nahi. Aur daawat maine di hai. Tumhare bina kaise shuru kar sakta hoon?” (It’s no big deal. And it was my invitation. How could I start without you?) Ram smiled in reassurance, hoping to get his message to the other.

“Kya aap bhi! Apne hi ghar mein koi nyota hota hai bhala?” (What are you saying? Does one need an invitation in his own home?) Ram smiled wider at this, making Akhtar’s heart do somersaults in his chest. “Achchha chalo ab khao, warna fir se thandi ho jayegi.” (Fine. Now eat before it gets cold again and I have to reheat it.) Ram started working on his plate, urging the younger man to do the same. Both shifted to lighter banter after that, enjoying the food, the music and most importantly, the company.

The song slowly faded into silence as they finished up with dinner. Akhtar finally dragged Ram to his record collection in search of a song with faster beats and happy tone. “Chalo na! Pehle gaana dhoondho. Fir baki sab thik karenge. Aur mujhe shart bhi to jeetni hai!” (Come no! First let’s pick the song. Then we’ll clean up. And I have to win the bet too.)

“Maine koi shart toh nahi lagayi thi.” (I did not wager anything.) Ram said as he started shuffling the record collection, narrating the names of the songs to Akhtar for him to choose.

“Han toh ab lagaate hain. Agar main jeet gaya toh kya milega?” (Then let’s do it now. What will I get if I win?) Akhtar raised an eyebrow.

They had already gone though a few records without any luck: they’d all turned out to be gambhir ras raag or ghazals. Akhtar was preening in confidence and Ram really didn’t want to lose now.

“Nahi. Main bachchon jaise shart nahi lagaata.” (Look, I’m not wagering some stupid bet, ok?)

“Kyon darr gaye?” (Why? Afraid you’ll lose?)

“Ismein darne wali koi baat hi nahi.” (There’s nothing to be afraid of.)

“Toh phir lagao shart.” (Then let’s bet!) Akhtar extended his hand, baiting Ram. Ram shook it, “Lagi shart.” (Done.) And started digging through more of the vinyls. While searching, Ram found a disc with the song that he hadn’t heard in a while. It was one of his favourite ghazals. A beautiful poem and even better composition.

“Aha! Mil gayi. Akhtar ye ghazal toh sunni hi hogi!” (Yes! Here it is. Akhtar, you have to listen to this ghazal.) He held out the disc for Akhtar to drop in the gramophone.

“Kaunsi hai yeh?” (Which one is it?) Akhtar fixed it in the instrument, putting the pin in for it to play.

“Tum khud hi suno. Aur shart haar gaye ho tum.” (You’ll know when it plays. And yeah, you lost.) Ram declared with triumph.

Akhtar refused to back down as the tune started with a slow rhythm of the tanpura. He was confident that Ram’s definition of a fun song would be still a slow one. Then the words started flowing, making Akhtar more confident of the genre of the ghazal. It went- Mujhse pehli si mohabbat mere mehboob na maang…

He had heard this one before, it was one of the favourites of his abbajaan, the benevolent man at whose place he was staying. “Nahi nahi! Ye nahi chalega. Ye bhi dukh bhari ghazal hi hai. Main waqif hoon iss se.” (No! No! This is not done. This is also laden with sorrow. I know this one.)

“Par tumne kaha tha k mere paas virah ras k siva aur koi sangeet hi nahi hai! Ismein to desh bhakti ka tawajjuh hai. Shayar apne mulk se mohabbat ki baat kar raha hai!” (But you said I would not have songs apart from virah (separation from the beloved) ras. But this is about patriotism. The poet is talking about the love for his country.)

“Ho sakta hai, par wo keh to apne firdaus se hi raha hai na? Aur phir baat ismein bhi mulk se judaa hone ki hi hai!” (Maybe. But he’s conveying this to one of his lovers only. And also, there is the point where the poet yearns for his country.) Akhtar argued his point.

“Ye bhi ek soch hai par mulk se ishq aur insaan se ishq alag hai.” (This is one perspective toward it. But loving one’s motherland and loving a person is different.)

“Pata nahi. Shayad. Mere liye to ishq ishq hai. Chahe kisi se bhi ho. Pyaar mein koi alag mayne thoda hi hote hain? Dard bhi wahi hai, ranj bhi wahi, hijr bhi wahi aur vasl bhi wahi hai na? Par main toh itna padha likha nahi hun, main kya jaanu?” (I don’t know. Maybe. But for me love is love. Whoever there may be on the other end. How can you set boundaries for love? Pain is the same, distress is the same, woe of separation hits the same and the joy of reunion is the same. But I’m not a scholar, so what do I know?) His voice trailed into a soft whisper as he said the last sentence. Akhtar was afraid to look at Ram now, thinking he had crossed a line.

Ram took a step closer. They already were in close quarters riffing through the music, and that step landed Ram closer still. Akhtar could feel the heat of the other’s body, his breath on his cheeks as he spoke tenderly. “Akhtar, meri taraf dekho.” (Akhtar, look at me.) Akhtar shook his head slightly, shutting his eyes with embarrassment.

“Akhtar,” Ram repeated a bit more commandingly this time. Akhtar lifted his head, still not looking at Ram, his gaze fixed somewhere over the older man’s shoulder. Ram held his jaw with a featherlike touch to tilt his face to himself. His hand did not leave as he uttered the next words. “Kabhi apne aap ko anpadh bol kar khud ko neecha mat dikhana. Ek taraf tum itni gehri baat karte ho aur dusri taraf tum ye soch bhi kaise sakte ho? Tumse zyada samajhdaar, hoshiyaar aur kaabil insaan maine nahi dekha. Aur main ye tumhari khushaamad nahi kar raha, na to tumhe achchha lage isliye keh raha hoon. Main ye isiliye keh raha hoon kyon ki ye sach hai.” (Never think of yourself as lesser. On one hand you say something so profound and on the other hand you belittle yourself? I have not met anyone who is more smart, understanding and caring than you. And I’m not saying this to lift your spirits or to flatter you. I’m saying this because it is the truth.)

Bheem felt his vision go blurry and wetness on his cheeks as Ram proceeded with his speech. And as Ram cupped his face, stroking his cheeks with his thumbs, did Bheem realise he was actually crying. He held Ram’s wrists with both his hands as he shut his eyes to stop tears from flowing. What had happened to him? Sure, he was an emotional person, a bit too emotional as the elders in his tribe commented, feeling everything all at once. But he had learnt how to mask his feelings after coming to Delhi. He was here on a mission and the only time he had allowed himself to be emotionally vulnerable was when he went to the forest, be it for a walk or a hunt. When he would be alone.

Tears in Akhtar’s eyes were a new sight for Ram altogether and it split his heart into a million pieces to see the man cry at genuine compliments. Had no one ever told him how precious he was? How beautiful? How smart, intelligent, selfless and pure he was? Did the ever smiling, ever happy and optimist Akhtar think this about himself? This would not do. Ram would spend every moment that he got in the other’s company to make him believe otherwise. What Ram did next surprised him as well.

He lifted Akhtar’s head a little, thumbs rubbing under his eyes until he opened them, the honey dipped orbs that somehow held Ram’s universe in them. Ram wanted to drown in them. Forever. And forget the rest of the world, all the responsibilities and burdens and challenges. Ram was aware how close they were and how intimate the position was, their breaths mingling as time stretched in an eternity in that moment. But it was as if he was floating somewhere above his body, looking at the two of them suspended in their own personal bubble. He closed his eyes, raising his head and pressed his lips to Akhtar’s forehead, conveying everything he felt in that fleeting kiss.

“Anna…” Akhtar whimpered with so much love and reverence but the word still sounded hollow to him as he sunk himself in the older man’s embrace, burrowing his face in the other’s shoulders. Maybe, Ram heard the hollowness too as he engulfed Akhtar in his arms. “Mujhe mere naam se pukaaro na Akhtar.” (Call me by my name, Akhtar.) he pleaded.

“Ram..”, the muffled voice in Ram’s shirt was the sweetest sound in the room as the gramophone whirred in the back, effectively ending the song.

//

Chapter 2.

A/N: Please please let me know how you liked it or didn't like it...

Also, I do apologise for the Hindi/Urdu dialogues but that's the language i thought in for the songs and the Delhi backdrop. And I'm sorry that the translation of the ghazal is not mentioned in the fic but I'll attach a link with the video.

P.s. for the ghazal nerds, the ghazal was written by the great Faiz Ahmad Faiz sahab (1911-1984) and it might not have been exactly written in 1920s. It was around the time of partition and was written in the form of a revolt poem against the government and his love for the country (India and Pakistan). But I've taken artistic liberty here so I hope that's okay. The ghazal has a very rich history in Urdu literature and it is absolutely my favourite.

P.P.s: I also have lost my taglist- and somehow am not exactly keen to make one without request. So lmk if you want the notifications. Or just keep tuned to this blog.

#rrr #doodles fics #rrr fics #long series #pehli si mohabbat #rrr movie #ram rrr #bheem rrr #rambheem #classical music #indian classical music #rrr fandom #wip

[jadeile-writes]

Fanfic Progress Update 153

Hi people, it's time to do an update on this week's writing progress. Stay tuned for a sneak-peek for Keep the Cuddles Platonic -challenge at the bottom of this post!

Current WIPs:

Keep the Cuddles Platonic -challenge

Fandom: Sonic the Hedgehog, movieverse

Summary: Doctor Robotnik is simultaneously touch averse and touch starved, which results in a plan to "get the touching needs over with" in the most efficient way he could think of: cuddles overnight, when he wouldn't be doing anything useful anyway. Agent Stone was not privy to the plan until they arrived at their hotel room for their business trip.

Progress: Chapter 2 is the current latest chapter and was posted on 23rd of November. Chapter 3 is finished and will be posted on 30th of November aka next Thursday. Chapters 4 and 5 are also finished :D

Originally this was supposed to be a threeshot, but chapter 3 got so long that I cut it into two chapters, and chapter 4 reached the desired word count perfectly naturally, so it was clearly a necessity. Chapter 5 just kind of wrote itself, it's a shorter epilogue chapter that the fic didn't really need, but now that it's there it perfects it, so turns out the fic did need it, I just didn't know it. Anyway, it's all written now and only needs to be posted.

—–

I'm Signing in the Drain

Fandom: Sonic the Hedgehog, movieverse

Summary (temporary): Not many people know this, but Doctor Robotnik is actually deaf and uses hearing aids to make up for it. Agent Stone does not know this, he just kind of assumes he's told to learn sign language upon being assigned for some other, mysterious reasons, and not as a "just in case" measure.

Progress: This fic will have at least three chapters, maybe four, maybe more (if I decide I actually want to do more with this concept than my initial idea, because the potential is there). The second chapter is almost done. The first chapter is now about 1/3 done.

I'm actually not sure if this fic will end up being Stobotnik aside from Stone being Big Gay as usual, cause Robotnik is being very aroace right now and I don't know if he'll give Stone a chance or not, as that is not really the point of the fic. We'll see how this shapes up.

—–

SBLF (workname)

Fandom: Sonic the Hedgehog, movieverse

Summary (temporary):

Wanted: a yesman who is capable of operating an espresso machine, has at least a higher IQ than your average amoeba, and is willing to put work before having a personal life, or indeed a life, period. The extra in your pathetic paycheck is good, but the strain in your psyche will make up for the positives. Forfeit your basic human rights and apply today if this sounds like you. 

Maybe it said something about Agent Stone - and probably not good things - that the poster in the cafeteria's pin board piqued his interest more than any of his official assignments had for a good long while. 

Dr. Robotnik, huh?

Progress: This one will be a longfic, probably around 20 chapters. It's a bit hard to estimate at this point, so the number is subject to change. Or I might cut this into two fics in a series, because quite honestly, it's two stories in one package (that is, half of it is pre-canon and half post-canon, so you know, could easily have two fics.) My writing hours will be devoted to this fic.

I have the first three chapters completely written now. Chapter 4 is half done. I also have two halfway written chapters that don't yet know their exact placement within the fic (they're scenes that will be slotted in to wherever they feel natural, once we get Stone settled in.)

—–  

Other WIPs I’m not currently working on but intend to get back to Someday™:

PoE Drabbles (Pillars of Eternity)

DC Drabbles (Justice League)

Diaphanous Relations (Forgotten Realms, R.A. Salvatore’s books)

Rolling with it (Zelda: BotW)

Hah, our afterlife is the most hilarious bushwa, dearest! (Hazbin Hotel)

—–

That’s it for the WIPs! Here’s the promised sneak-peek into Keep the Cuddles Platonic -challenge (Note: the text may end up slightly different in the fic itself due to more editing happening before publishing). Enjoy!

It was a perfectly average day at Doctor Robotnik’s laboratory. No business trips, no missions, no field tests, nothing but staying at the lab. Stone’s workday would be from ten to six, he’d do his usual everyday work, no meetings scheduled, no presentations, no visitors, no deadline crunches.

Simply a regular Thursday.

Except it was going to be anything but.

When Stone came in for the day, the lab smelled off in a way that was hard to define. Curiously, he walked up to the big crossroad that divided the lab building into two distinct halves and sniffed the air, pinpointing that the smell was coming from the left corridor, which meant the origin was likely the testing lab. Upon entering it, he could immediately see the cause of the smell: the large steel glass cabinet where the doctor tested various weapon proofnesses of his prototypes was covered in soot, metal bits, and chemical splatter. In short, the machine he had worked on yesterday when Stone clocked out had exploded upon testing.

Stone cringed in sympathy. That was days of careful work gone up in smoke just like that. At least he hadn’t been here to get yelled at for it.

—–

That’s it this time. See you next Saturday!

Links:

My AO3   My FFnet   My Ko-fi    Radiohusk Discord Server

#fanfic progress update #stobotnik

[an-abandoned-sad-weirdo]

❗Empty and/or disturbing blogs will be blocked❗

(I think you know what I mean by "disturbing")

Hi everyone, I'm Cress Lee | 18 | she/her.

I love Greek Mythology, working with acrylic, reading, writing, organizing my bookshelves, cryptology, story telling, baking, Taylor Swift's music, Katty Perry's music, etc.

I enjoy the shows: STH, TOH, GF, The Big Bang Theory (it's a treasure, I love it), The Ghost & Molly Mcgee, etc.

My top favorite movies; " Cruella ", " Spirited ", " The Nutcracker & The Four Realms ", " The Greatest Showman ", and literally any Spiderman movie ever (except for " Venom ", the poster was scary enough, I didn’t need *cough*want*cough* to watch it *acts tough, but can't handle horror movies*).

I do not like: Radiosilence (It's the worst, I hate it with all my heart and soul. Nobody deserves radiosilence, it's torture), fanfictions that includes incest, little kids (I hate little kids, as well as kids who aren't little, they're just so annoying, I can’t stand it. I am so not parent material), the taste of caramel, lip-sticks (how do you people eat and drink with it on???), sunlight (and no, I'm not a vampire, I just don't like it, vitamin D is literally the only thing keeping me from an A+ blood test), and tumblr bots (they're the embodiment of evil) etc.

I'm not exactly new in tumblr but this account is only about a year old.

I love STH in any and every way but my favorite is, and will always be, Sonadow.

Which is what this tumblr blog's mostly about.

I also have an Ao3 account with the same name.

Most of my works are about " Sonic the Hedgehog All Media Types ".

Short, but as frequent as possible chapters are my motto.

Seriously, I'm terrible at writing long chapters.

I have a series called: " What It Means To Be A Family " .

It had two complete parts so far, but then I decided to re-write the series, all over again, FOR THE THIRD TIME!!!

So here we are;

Part 1: Becoming A Family Isn't Easy - Act 1 (Original Version) ( 7/7, Complete ) ( 18.873 words )

Part 2: Becoming A Family Isn't Easy - Act 2 (Original Version) ( 7/7, Complete ) ( 18.557 words )

Part 3: Becoming A Family Isn't Easy - Act 1 (Re-written) ( 6/? )

Please read the notes. PLEASE.

And also another one, called: " You Matter "

Part 1: Sonic's Purgatory ( 3/3 Complete ) ( 5614 words )

Part 2: It All Began On A Field Of Violets ( 13+1/13+1 Complete ) ( 13.947 words )

Part 3: Rotten Lemons ( 5/? )

Part 4: ( In Process )

Part 5: ( In Process )

And other than that, I have a tiny ( 2475 words, Rated Teen ) fanfiction ( STH, Sonic Prime ) named " I'll Listen ". It's a sickfic. ( Complete )

And also ( Rated Mature ) " Calming Down A Hurt Soul " too. (STH, Video Games & IDW Comics) ( 35/36 chapters so far. ) It's basicly a Sonadow Hurt/Comfort fic that has recently taken a dark turn. ( On going )

And an even tinier ( 2200 words ) vent fic called, "On The Verge" ( Rated Teen ) ( STH ) ( Complete )

And, "Dark & Alone (but not for long)", a fic on Sonic Forces. My take on what happened during those six months. ( Rated Mature ) ( 26/? chapters )

And my latest vent fic, ( 1954 words ) "The Emotional Beast" on Sonic as a werehog. ( Rated Teen ) ( Complete )

I'd be delighted if you took a peek.

Well, that's all for now.

Thanks.

🥰🥰🥰

#Sonadow Rocks #sth #sth fanfic #Sth fanfictions #sonic the hedgehog #sonadow #ao3

[data-is-my-favorite-android]

So about that new poster, the one with Steven’s ankle restraint…

this is my crackpot theory. I do not know if this is what’s going to happen and I certainly don’t expect it to happen, but these are my thoughts and this is how I would do it if, you know, Disney hired me to write for the show lol

Steven’s ankle restraint is a sign that we’re going back to the beginning of the story. Back to Steven’s apartment—back to when we first see him switch. Or rather, when he first becomes aware of the switching because he wakes up in the Alps with no recollection how he got there and now there’s people shooting at him and a voice in his head that very much does not like him and so on and so forth.

Only, of course, it won’t be Steven we’re following. It’ll be the third alter, Jake.

We have all these gaps in Steven’s memories (from episode 1 and 3 in particular) that have remained a mystery. A very tantalizing narrative mystery, a series of questions just begging to be answered. If we only had gaps in Episode 1, I’d be more doubtful about whether they’d revisit that lost time. I’d assume the alter in charge was Marc, and that those gaps are more to illustrate how badass he is, and in that case the less shown about how he killed those cultists, the better. Sometimes our imaginations fill in gaps far better than any “showing” could do.

BUT the gaps in Marc and Steven’s memories in Episode 3 very clearly indicate there’s a third alter at play. Now we’re REALLY curious about the context of not only what happened right before that particular blackout, but also the first one. The narrative has subtly drawn a link between the two episodes and dangled them in front of us, intentionally building up tension around the mystery and anticipation for the reveal. We’re meant to wonder if both incidents were Jake after all, but we can’t be quite sure whether it was, and we won’t be until we see exactly what happened in the Alps and Cairo during those memory blanks. The only way to know for sure is to see it.

(Incidentally, I think we were all confused why Marc would accuse Steven of killing those men in Cairo. At first I shrugged this off as Marc basically just doing the basic math of “if it wasn’t me, it HAD to be Steven, no matter how ludicrous that seems.” But then I realized… if it was Jake doing the running and fighting in between Steven scenes in the Alps, Marc wouldn’t remember ANY of what happened after he fell out of that building AT ALL. He would simply wake up with the scarab in hand, and since he doesn’t know about Jake, he would assume that somehow, unbelievably, Steven managed to get away with the scarab. Coupled with his performance fighting the jackal, Marc might conclude that Steven has some hidden depths of badassdom, perhaps even including the ability to kill. Hence why he accuses Steven of killing the men first. Marc accusing Steven seemingly out of the blue makes it all the more important to show us that it was Jake, not Marc, in charge while escaping cultists in the Alps. Like Episode 5 recontextualized so much between Steven and Marc from the previous four episodes, this would further contextualize all the other little idiosyncrasies and missing pieces left behind by finally showing Jake’s role in the system and the events of the show.)

So anyway, that’s why I think we could be getting at least some of Jake’s side of the story during the finale. While it’s definitely possible that they will continue to leave those gaps unexplained, there’s significant narrative weight to those missing scenes that just begs to be addressed.

Of course, we’ve heard that the final episode will be short, shorter than any other finale episode yet. If so, it’d be hard to address all that in such a short period. And it’s perfectly possible that it will be as short as they say and they won’t answer these questions.

But let’s consider for a second the possibility that the leak is wrong.

I originally looked at the list of upcoming tracks on the Moon Knight soundtrack and saw that, on average, there’s about as many new tracks in the last episode as there were in the preceding episodes. I assumed this meant that the leak was correct. If the episode was somehow longer than the others, wouldn’t there be more tracks to fill up all that extra time and space?

Not necessarily—ESPECIALLY if they go back to the beginning. They could reuse the music from the earlier episodes, which would lend a sense of cohesion between Jake’s story and Marc and Steven’s. Conveniently, it also wouldn’t be reflected in the soundtrack’s track list. And Disney is known to be wily about the information they release or “leak” to build up anticipation and engagement. And Diab also promised a really juicy twist in the final episode. He could have been talking about a lot of things, of course, but hell, what a twist it would be if we got not only Jake (which many fans have guessed might happen and the story already strongly points to), and a longer episode (which the fans have prayed for), but also those missing scenes (which hasn’t been bandied about as much bc everyone thinks the final episode will be too short)!

Idk, like, don’t take this too seriously bc I really really don’t know what they’re going to do and honestly I’m afraid to get my hopes up, but I had this thought and had to share it so I could let it go and get some rest lol

#moon knight #moon knight spoilers #jake lockley

[homocidal-invader]

ok. 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40

Well dang :V

1: What was the first episode you’ve seen? Episode 1 because I intentionally looked for the show to watch it after seeing clips of it online.

2: What’s your favorite episode? Episode 1. It's one of my favorite first episodes of a show ever and I really like how well it introduces everything. I love other episodes of the show of course I just think the first episode did a great job and should get more praise for that!

3: Favorite Irken? I like the main character a lot but if I had to choose a second favorite uhhh the Tallests as 1 entity I can't choose one over the other

4: Favorite Human? I like the other main character a lot also but as a second Professor Membrane bc he's funny and I had a mental image of him before watching the show

5: Favorite Other Race? There aren't really a lot of those to pick from :V

6: Any fan characters? Yesssss a few but this particular one I made several comics about

7: Favorite fanfiction? It's NSFW and I haven't actually finished the full series because it's long and I suck at reading! I might consider linking it at another point :V Favorite bc I took some inspiration from it for Est and I enjoy NSFW fics lol.

8: Favorite fanart?

I've got a few really inspirational ones on my computer! I recently made a long comment on the Irken propoganda poster fanart (and made my own fanart based off of it), I like the Corrupted Data 99% one (and made my own fanart based off of it), I like this sketch dump of Tallest Zims bc it's cool and bc of the comment "all I do is lie to myself" which I quote all the time now, this FnF song video that I keep trying to do a full version of because the OP said I could but haven't gotten around to it yet, and a bunch more I don't feel like tracking down lol.

9: Do you write for the fandom? Well I make comics but for fanfiction I've made one, short ZaDr fic but in character somehow

10: Do you draw for the fandom? Yes, here's my art tag for this blog and here's my askblog

11: Would you be scared if Jhonen found your art/fanfics/blog? I've watched his Twitch streams (he might still be doing that every Monday?) and sometimes when he searches stuff up he ends up scrolling past fanart and doesn't acknowledge it lol. So not really, he's not as mean a guy as the fandom seems to demonize him wrongly as. I actually think meeting him would be pretty cool!

12: Do you like pairings? If so, which? I mean aside from ZaDr I like RaPr and basically am open to any if ppl write it in a way I like. Those two I just enjoy in particular.

13: Do you believe there are any canon pairings? Like, intended by the writers? I don't remember any prominent characters dating canonically no lol.

14: OTP? ZaDr. I watched episode 1 and shipped it immedietely after their first interaction XD If that's not a "One True Pairing" I'm not sure what is.

15: Favorite enemies? (Tak and Zim or Zim and Dib… etc) Does enemies to lovers count? Idk I am more of a HELPLESS ROMANTIC type I am only into enemies if it's charged in some way XD Otherwise it sticks out to me less so nothing really comes to mind that easily.

16: Favorite Tallest of the four? I can't choose Red or Purple it changes every day! I like Miyuki and Spork but come on they don't have that much screentime and Red and Purple have far more changes to be funny lol

17: Favorite thing about Invader Zim? ADHD and artstyle

18: Least favorite thing about Invader Zim? that's hard. Even when the show disturbs me I take it as a positive. Uhhh. when ppl in the fandom are judgemental about other people's headcanons in a mean way lol

19: Do you have any blocked tags, relating to the fandom? probably but finding out would mean I'd have to look through my blocked tags! I frequently block people though.

20: Do you ever do crossovers? I had some Gravity Falls crossover sketches back in 2021, and I've done a few crossovers between characters in my own discord servers sometimes, but nothing large/prominent.

...Unless crossovers between zim askblogs count.

21: Any parts of show that actually scare you? Probably not scare but definitely disturb me. I'd need to rewatch it to remember.

22: Any parts of the fandom that actually scare you? I'm very sensitive as a person and have anxiety so people scare me easily!

23: Part that made you laugh the hardest… I'd need to go clip hunting for that! Good news though I recorded myself watching IZ with a friend in 2021 and am slowly editing the clips so I'll find out eventually.

24: Part that you could relate to… Zim very ADHD

25: Least favorite episode? I like all the episodes and I see grossing me out as a bonus bc rarely do things disturb me and it means that it succeeded but uhhhhhh I mean least likely to rewatch probably rise of the zitboy lol

26: Least favorite scene? Sometimes there's fatphobia in the show and that sucks :V

27: Do you like G.I.R.? YES I don't draw him as often as other characters but if you look around my askblog he makes it into tons of the posts lol

28: If you could be anyone from the show, you would choose….. Trying to send me to hell??? Rude.

29: Are the Tallest intelligent or not? Yeah they just don't care lol

30: What do you think an Irkens blood color is? I like it when it's either pink or matches their eye color. I want a rainbow blood smear of irkens after war. imagine it.

31: If you could write an episode, what would happen? I've thought of several fake episode scripts, like where Dib gets suspended for pushing Zim at school and goes to a better nicer school, then ends up back at normal school at the end of the episode because the world is built to hurt Dib, or an episode where Zim gets stuck in his elevator and can't get out bc his PAK legs are too long and his rockets are useless and GIR is useless.

If I could write an episode though it'd probably end up being gay shit tho ngl

32: If all the voice actors and artists were different, would you still want Invader Zim to come back? Well if the writers are the same... hmm, though a lot of what was good about IZ was the synnergy between all the writers, artists, and VAs, like Rikki who voiced GIR also being a background artist, and somehow a bunch of these ppl are still friends 20 years later.

I think it'd be fun to see it even if they totally and completely fuck it up though because then the fandom would tear it apart and it'd be funny

33: Do you consider any of the characters your ‘babies’? Depends on the day but I do love random navigator drone from Florpus. Baby bc Evv is totally based off of them XD Adopted!

34: Do you have any fancharacters that are the result of two canon characters getting together? Fankids? I'd say Wur, even though it's not Dib's biological kid he's still its dad XD

35: If you could meet any of the characters, who would it be and what would you say? Dib's insufferable but I think he just wants someone to listen to him lol

36: If you could meet any of the voice actors, who would it be and what would you say? Probably Richard bc I've seen lots of interviews with him and he just seems really friendly and nice to talk to!

37: Other than Zim, who is your favorite Irken Invader? Damn :V Well we don't really get to meet the other invaders much, do we? Like it's either Skoodge or you just REALLY like a background character lol

38: Professor Membrane: a good daddy or a neglectful cold father? I'd like him to be good but yk all the times he's good it could just be argued it's because his kids are science experiments XD When I write him he's neglectful and cold but more on accident than intentional abuse. He wants the best for his kids but he's just not equipped to deal with their emotions.

39: Favorite quote? I'd need to rewatch the show there's too many good ones lol

40: Zim’s taken over the planet… Now what? Calls the Tallests to tell them about it and they're like..... We're not flying over there!!! Uh... we told you to watch it not take it over!!! uhhhh whatever, good job [disconnects].

Zim would have his fun being king for a day then things get back to normal by the end of the episode lol

#verm1c1de

[kfh-fiction]

The Fan - Chapter 1

November 8, 2016 - Lea

I turned on the TV in my bedroom, feeling cautiously optimistic about what was to come.  It was Election Night of 2016 and I’d spent the past year working for Hilary Rodman, a candidate who I’d really liked from her time as First Lady, then as a Senator and finally as Secretary of State.  She fought for things I believed in, like abortion rights, better education, affordable health care, strong international relations, marriage equality, gun control and building more jobs.  So I was thrilled when she decided to run for president and got involved in her campaign right away.  

My wall was decked out with a Hilary for president sign and a “Love Trumps Hate” sign, along with posters from other campaigns I’d been involved with. The newest addition to my wall, though not political, was from last week, when my favorite baseball team, the Brooklyn Chargers, won the World Series. Hopefully, I’d soon have Hilary Rodman victory posters to put on the wall.

Before Barack Obana was elected president eight years ago, the country was in the midst of two wars and the worst economic crisis in a century.  Over the past eight years, unemployment had dropped, the Affordable Care Act had passed and marriage equality had become a reality.  But there was still more to be done and I was sure Hilary Rodman would continue that progress. The warmer-than-usual-for-November weather felt like a good omen for things to come.

As an individual, my life had been full of ups and downs over the past eight years.  The first campaign I’d really been actively involved with was Obana’s, when I was a high school senior, too young to vote by one year.  So I spent my weekends at the Obana office making phone calls, stuffing envelopes and entering data. I did this again for his re-election campaign four years ago.

Then college started. It was a disaster. My whole life, I’d struggled with anxiety and depression, and the large college campus with lots of people and lots of noise didn’t mesh well with my anxiety. I’d never done well on exams, and since exams were such a big part of college, my grades were consistently low. At least in high school, even though I hadn’t been close to very many people, there were a lot of people who I liked who I also thought liked me. I struggled to make friends and I’d struggled with exams my whole life. After three and a half years, I decided to take a break and got a retail job. After two and a half years at the retail job, I’d gone back to college. While I was doing better this time around, it was hard balancing school and work and the exams were still giving me trouble. I was doing homework on the bus between school and work so that I had more free time during my limited time at home. I didn’t even get to do as much volunteering for Hilary’s campaign as I would have liked.

There had been one bright spot during my first college stint: I started watching the TV show Glee as a freshman, and as a sophomore, I began writing fanfiction about the Finn/Rachel pairing, or Finchel, as it was known.  I’d made friends online through my fanfiction writing and gotten all sorts of positive comments.  Finchel had gotten me through my early college struggles, my trouble with finding a job before I got the retail job I had now, through anxiety and depression spells... then the actor who played Finn died, and the writers killed Finn rather than hiring a new actor or giving Finchel an offscreen happy ending.  That had been devastating for me, but the Hilary Rodman campaign and the Chargers World Series win helped me feel better about the loss of Finchel.  I looked at my wall, where I still had a Finchel poster, right next to the Chargers World Series Champions poster.

The first thing I saw when I turned on the TV was the Republican presidential nominee, Donald Drumpf. Just the sight of the obese man, with the overdone spray tan and the blonde hair that looked fake, made me cringe. Drumpf was a bully, narcissistic, immature, ignorant, racist, homophobic, sexist, anti-Islamic, anti-immigrant and anti-disabled.  He constantly threatened and mocked people. He had no experience. 

I remembered the day I’d been at the gym and seen Drumpf mock a disabled reporter and asked the person on the bike next to mine how anyone could support someone like that. I remembered watching TV the day after the Democratic National Convention and Drumpf had attacked a Gold Star Family who’d spoken on Hilary’s behalf.  I remembered leaving class one day and a classmate told me that a recording had surfaced of Drumpf talking about how he could just “grab (women) by the pussy.”  

Yet, the horrible things Drumpf said were garnering more and more attention, and no matter how horrible the thing he said was, it couldn’t lose him supporters.

But Hilary was up in the polls.  She did better in the debates.  She had more endorsements.  Even a few Republicans were backing her, or at least refusing to back their own nominee.  And although I was worried, all the prediction markets were predicting that she would win.

I scrolled through my social media feeds.  Most of the people I followed were posting pro-Hilary statuses.  One thing stood out - a post from my favorite player on the Chargers, Colton Krenshaw, encouraging people to get out and vote.  I felt a connection to all the Chargers because they made up the team I loved watching, but he was definitely my favorite. He was one of the best players in the league, a great catcher and a great hitter, yet he was very humble. He did a lot of great work in the community. I’d wanted the World Series title for all of them, but especially for him. I’d met him a few times and he’d always made me feel special and so appreciated.

My thoughts were interrupted when CNN announced their first calls.  They were calling Indiana and Kentucky for Drumpf and Vermont for Hilary. Drumpf had 19 electoral votes and Hilary had 3. Oh well, the states Hilary was expected to do well in weren’t closing until later. She would win this election, right?  After all, in 2008 and 2012, Obana was behind at first because of the states that closed early and won by a huge margin.

My computer beeped. I had a new email. Another failed exam. I’d never been very good at school. I wasn’t sure what it was, but no matter how hard I tried, I never managed to pass exams.  Every time I took an exam, it went the same way. I’d go into the test-taking room in Iowa University’s disability service office with those stupid sight blockers surrounding the desk. My mind would go blank when I was handed the exam, and no matter how hard I studied, all the information would be forgotten when it was handed to me. The time seemed to pass slowly, but in reality, it would go by quickly. I wasn’t even sure how I’d gotten into IU, which was supposed to be the best university in the state, after three and a half years of doing poorly at another state school. Maybe because of my essay about my history with anxiety and depression and how I was able to live with them.

The 8 p.m. polls closed. Hilary won New Jersey, Massachusetts, Delaware and Maryland and had 44 electoral votes now. She was up by 10 points in Ohio, up by 7 in North Carolina, up by 7 in New Hampshire and up by 1 in Florida. This was amazing! Maybe all those panic attacks and sleepless nights had been for nothing. Hilary was winning. Drumpf had picked up West Virginia and Oklahoma, but Hilary wouldn’t have won those states anyway.

The deep south polls were starting to close. Now Drumpf had picked up Alabama, Mississippi, Tennessee and South Carolina. He had 66 electoral votes to Hilary’s 48, as she’d only just picked up Rhode Island.  But she was still up in Ohio, Pennsylvania, Michigan, North Carolina and New Hampshire... couldn’t the networks just call these states for her? My heart was starting to beat fast.

I remembered when I went to go see Hilary speak about a month ago. I’d barely slept the night before because I was so excited and went pacing around my apartment in hopes of wearing myself out to get some sleep, but that didn’t work. I got to the rally’s location, IU’s football stadium, early so I could get a good place in line. It had been a long wait.  There had been lots of people and they’d played loud music. I didn’t like crowds, noise or music at all, so that hadn’t been pleasant. I wanted to go to a quiet place to wait, but I knew if I did, I’d lose my place in line and not get a good glimpse of Hilary. 

More than once, I found myself wondering if it would be worth it. What if I couldn’t even see her from where I was standing, and if people were standing too close to me, and the music got too loud?

Once Hilary came out, it was all worth it. I had an amazing seat in the 100,000-seat stadium and didn’t need to look at the projector to see her at the podium. She was even more impressive in person than she was on television and online. I didn’t think it was possible for someone in such a stressful position to have so much energy and be so happy, but there Hilary was, in her signature pantsuits, talking about all her ideas for the country. It made all the difficult times I had gone through worth it.

Wait. What was happening now?  Why were Hilary’s leads in the swing states shrinking?  Now Drumpf was up in Wisconsin, Michigan, New Hampshire, Virginia, North Carolina, Georgia, Florida, Ohio - and Iowa. Iowa. My home state.  The state I’d done so much work in. Yes, Hilary had just won a few states and had 104 electoral votes now. She’d picked up Illinois and Connecticut, and to my surprise, she had won New York, Trump’s home state. But he had 129 thanks to Arkansas, Texas, North and South Dakota, Nebraska and Kansas and was halfway to 270. That didn’t even take into account all the swing states he was up in. This was bad.

I was strongly reminded of Election Night 2004. I’d been a thirteen-year-old at my parents’ house. My family was optimistic that John Carey would become president and my parents had a party snack tray for me and my brother, who was six at the time. My parents had also gotten us each a map to color in as the states were called - blue for the Democratic states, red for the Republican ones. There were times when John Carey had a lead, like Hilary Rodman had less than an hour ago. But the clock ticked on that night, and I’d colored more states in red than in blue. 

Eventually, I felt  like I could fall asleep on the couch in the living room, but I’d wanted to stay up so I could be there when the news anchors announced my idol had been elected president. At around midnight, my parents sent me to bed. I had school in the morning. That morning, it was revealed that the incumbent president had won the election. I couldn’t remember that morning well, but I did remember breaking down crying at school and losing motivation to do anything. I remembered stabbing myself with my mother’s knitting needles with plans to kill myself because I didn’t want to continue to live in a world with George Walker as president. I remembered the trip to the ER after I’d been caught and being lectured by a psychiatrist about how self-harming and suicide weren’t the answer, that he wouldn’t be president forever and that things would get better.

The night before that election, I had gone to see John Carey speak, and it had been absolutely incredible.  Back in 2004, my struggles with school were beginning and I basically had no friends, had just been diagnosed with anxiety and was even having trouble with figure skating. But one thing made me smile - the Carey campaign.  I’d gone to his website every day to watch videos of his campaign events and his ads and had been convinced he’d defeat the incumbent president and put a stop to the Iraq war that I thought was pointless.

That hadn’t happened.  But certainly the United States had learned something, right?  They wouldn’t elect someone even worse than George Walker, would they?

My phone went off.  It was a text from my dad.  “This is bad.”

My parents had a feeling this wasn’t good either. They’d reassured me a lot when I talked to them about my fears about the election. If they thought it was bad, it must be bad. I replied to the text.  “I’m scared.”

My dad texted back. “Germany survived Hitler.  Russia survived Stalin.”

I didn’t even know how to respond to that. Millions of Jews died under Hitler. The people who survived were the people who didn’t have to be afraid in the first place. I knew I probably wouldn’t be alive without my antidepressants and anti-anxiety meds, which were covered by Obana’s healthcare plan. If Drumpf won, he’d certainly repeal that plan, and my anxiety and depression would probably kill me.

I felt like I was going to throw up. I ran to the bathroom and tried to throw up, but nothing came out. I wanted to cry. It wasn’t over yet. But these leads weren’t going away. Drumpf had picked up Montana, Wyoming and Louisiana and was more than halfway there now at 140, and had added leads in Georgia and Nevada. Hilary had leads in Minnesota, Colorado and New Mexico, but that wouldn’t be enough.

My phone went off with another text from my dad. “We have each other. That’s what matters most.”

I considered calling my parents, but often they got annoyed when I had one of my freakouts. I hated my freakouts, too. I always hated them. But I needed support during them.  Still, it wasn’t fair to burden my parents. I was an adult now. I couldn’t force myself on them. I started crying now, not even bothering trying to stop myself. 

My roommate had gone to a bar with friends to watch the results, so I was at the apartment alone and didn’t have to worry about my roommate hearing me. I was sure there were green boogers on my face. My stomach hurt and I could barely see clearly. This was one of the extreme ones, ones that regularly happened after the 2004 election and the loss of Finchel, ones I didn’t even bother trying to stop because they came anyway. This was a mixture of the physical and emotional extremes, not just the extreme thoughts, fast heartbeats, soreness, chest pain, saying bizarre things, and inability to stay still that usually led to pacing around wherever I was at the time when I had my more mild freakouts.  All I could do now was hope that things got better - and cry. I was lucky the people in the apartment upstairs didn’t hear me. It was dark and rainy outside, as if that was an omen for bad things to come. My phone went off with a text from my mom. “Do you want to come home for a few days?”

My parents seemed to think this was over.  Whenever I talked to them about my fears about the election, they talked about how they were sure Hilary would win. Did they really believe that? I replied to the text.  “I can’t put my life on hold.”

I logged on to her computer again. The people I followed were getting nervous, too. There were lots of “I’m nervous” and “why is this happening” type posts rather than the earlier posts of anticipation and optimism. 

These posts made things even more confusing. Practically everyone I knew was voting for Hilary. From the town I’d grown up in, to college, to my various jobs, I’d spent most of my life in liberal settings. But posts didn’t get people elected, signs didn’t get people elected, endorsements didn’t get people elected. All that mattered was who got out to vote. Drumpf’s supporters called themselves the “silent majority.” Maybe that was what they really were. They didn’t talk about it or put up signs or put posts on social media, but they did go to the ballot box and vote. I’d done whatever work I could fit into my busy schedule, as had so many people in other swing states, but that hadn’t been enough, clearly. I wished I could have done more.

Now I got another text, from my brother, Johnny.  “Love you!”

Iowa was called for Trump. I collapsed to the floor, feeling like I was having a heart attack now and sure I’d have a carpet burn soon. Iowa, the state I’d worked so hard in for the past three presidential elections. I got out my phone and texted my parents and brother: “I’m just so sad.”  What else was there to say? I was more than sad. I was terrified. I was angry. I was hurt. I was sick.

The 11 p.m. polls closed, and Hilary added Washington, Oregon, California and Hawaii to her column. But this all likely wouldn’t be enough. The leads in the swing states weren’t going away, and the red Iowa stood out like a blister. Why? Why was this happening? How had all those polls been so off?

I saw that I had new text messages from my parents and brother. I wasn’t going to burden them right now. If I talked to anyone, I’d likely start hyperventilating and crying. I couldn’t believe I was watching someone I looked up to being beaten by who I thought was the worst person I’d even seen.

In a way, I could believe this was happening.  The people and things I was a fan of ALWAYS went up in smoke. The one exception was the Chargers winning the World Series last week. Of course there was what happened with John Carey twelve years ago. Three years ago, Finchel had been destroyed. After both the 2004 election and the loss of Finchel, I had been furious and depressed, not wanting to do much of anything and spending much of my time crying in my room. My family and friends hadn’t understood why I was so upset. I was attached to the people and things I was a fan of because I had so much trouble forming close relationships, but people didn’t get that. It only made sense that Hilary Rodman would meet the same fate as other things I loved.

Florida was called for Drumpf. Colorado and Nevada were called for Hilary, but Drumpf was still up in electoral votes. Even worse, the gaps in the swing states were shrinking. Now Georgia and Ohio were called for Trump. Would any of the swing states come through? Hilary was up in New Hampshire, but that was only four electoral votes.

Time passed. The news anchors were supposed to be bipartisan, but I could tell they were confused too, and scared. The country was at risk. My feeds on Facebook, Instagram and Twitter were full of posts of panic, posts about how Hilary didn’t deserve this and how it was unfair that all of Obana’s progress would be undone.

Then Pennsylvania was called for Drumpf. He had 264 electoral votes now. Only six more were needed. This was over. He would definitely win Alaska, which was three, meaning Hilary had to win all the states that hadn’t been called yet, and Drumpf had leads in Arizona, Michigan and Wisconsin.

It was clear to me now.  The universe didn’t want me to be happy.  Every time I was happy, a huge blow came and destroyed it.  Sure, there were periods of my life where I’d managed myself well enough, but I was tired of this. I was tired of anxiety. I was tired of depression. I was tired of Colton being with Helen. I was tired of the things I liked getting ruined. I was tired of failed exam after failed exam. I was tired of being on my feet all day at my retail job and still being criticized there for every little thing. I was tired of Drumpf.

But I wouldn’t be getting rid of Drumpf. Alaska was called for him and so was Arizona.  He’d won.

The internet was appalled - well, the people I followed on the internet were appalled.  But clearly, there were people out there who weren’t appalled.  People thought all the horrible things he said and did were okay.  Hilary wasn’t perfect, but who was?  This was so disgusting, so sickening, so upsetting.  I didn’t want to deal with it.  It hadn’t even happened yet and I was tired of it.  I was tired of Drumpf.

And maybe it would all be better if it was just all over.  I was going to die if Drumpf repealed Obana’s health care act, which he certainly would.  Maybe I should just get it over with and not have to suffer through the Drumpf presidency. I scribbled a note to leave on my dresser that I couldn’t live in a world where Drumpf was president. I headed to my car. The night felt endless. I wanted to drive and didn't care where I ended up, only for there to be an end.

[soveryshylove]

Nintendo should bring back those amiibo posters ☹️

#animal crossing #acnh #mine #animal crossing new horizons #i had all four series posters but i now have series 1 and the other three are lost 😭 #nintendo #ac

[btssaysstudy]

Salvage - 1 || jjk/kth.

Summary: After your confession, it's safe to say that there was nothing left to salvage between you and Jungkook. However, things start to change when a new hurdler joins the team. Genre: college!au, track!jungkook, track!taehyung, track!reader, angst & fluff Pairing: jungkook x reader, taehyung x reader Warning(s) : unrequited love, alcohol (drinking) mentioned, swearing Chapter Word Count: 3.7k a/n: My first mini series! Let me know what you guys think and the ending depends on your feedback :) taglist: do let me know if you want to be added to the series taglist

series masterlist

“Wake me up when you’re done.”

“Alright, alright. I’m done.” Your body got up from your seat, but your gaze still glued on your laptop screen and hands on your keyboard. Your roommate groaned, marching her way to pull your hands away from the laptop.

“Yn, it’s a Friday night. Let’s go! Namjoon’s waiting for us downstairs.”

“Yea but,” You sighed, your eyes on your work, “I still have quite a lot of things to do. Maybe I’ll skip this party—“

“Like how you missed Hoseok’s birthday party? I’m sure he’s going to hunt you down later. You still have the weekends to complete your work and you’re already dressed up.”

You knew your roommate was right. You had agreed to go for this party since it was one of Namjoon’s close friends’ birthday. Though you weren’t close to the birthday boy, you were close to Namjoon and his girlfriend, who also happened to be your roommate - Miya.

“Okay, okay.” You quickly saved your work and turned your laptop off. “Let’s go.”

Miya squealed in excitement, linking her arm around yours as she pulled you towards the door. The two of you went down to meet Namjoon who had been patiently waiting for you to get down.

“Sorry for wait.” You gave an apologetic smile. “No worries! We’re still early. Good to miss the first few awkward minutes of the party.” He chuckled as he opened the car door to let you both in.

Miya truly hit jackpot with Namjoon. He was the whole package - athletic, smart and a gentleman. Miya was a great catch herself and you were thankful that she was your roommate.

Miya had been your roommate since freshmen year and ever since, you both always wanted to dorm together. Miya was very caring and gentle yet blunt at the same time. You both were awkward beings when you first met, and you were worried how dorm life would be with a stranger.

Thankfully, Miya, being the straightforward person, immediately went out with setting the ground rules together and suggested for a roommate date to get to know each other.

The rest was practically history.

Miya had been there for many of your significant memories in college - the good and the bad.

She was also there when you met Jungkook.

“Do you have any clubs in mind?”

“Actually, I do. I’m planning to sign up for track.”

Miya gasped and giggled in excitement, “No way, I want to join track too!”

“That’s cool! Shall we head over then?”

The two of you made your way to the track and field booth, sharing about what events you partake in. Miya was a hurdler while you weren’t. Nonetheless, it was pretty amazing to you two that you were both signing up for the track team.

“Hey freshies! Here to sign up?”

The two of you converse with the seniors to learn more about the try-outs and practice sessions.

“Psst,” Miya nudged you as you filled up the sign-up form, “On your left. Isn’t he cute?”

Your gaze turned to see a tall, buff boy, who seemed to be signing up for track as well. “He’s pretty cute.”

“I’m going to say hi. Wait for me.” Miya winked at you before approaching the boy - little did she know at that time that he was going to be her boyfriend.

“See you try-outs!” You smiled at the senior as you handed the form.

Your eyes wandered around the nearby booths as you waited for Miya to come back.

“I’ll just look around.” You mouthed at her when she turned to make eye contact with you.

“Hey! Interested to join Photography club?”

“Freshies! Come join the Badminton club!”

The atmosphere was completely chaotic with seniors shouting at the top of their lungs to promote their club. Slightly disoriented from the ruckus, you had bumped into a stranger.

“I’m so sorry—“

“So sorry about that—“

The two of you took a step back to meet each other’s eyes. “Sorry about that.” The black-haired boy gave a sheepish grin as he rubbed the nape of his neck. “I was kinda too excited to sign up for a club.”

“No worries, it’s my fault as well. I wasn’t looking.”

“All’s good. B-But… Any chance that you happen to know where the track and field club booth is at?”

Your eyes widened slightly in amusement, “Yea I do. I was just about to head back to meet my friend.”

“Oh! Could I follow you there?”

“Sure.”

Your eyes took a quick once-over, it wasn’t hard to notice that his built was athletic, donned in sweats and an oversize black shirt, this guy looked like the poster boy of college dudes.

“My name’s Jungkook. What’s yours?”

“Yn. Did you run track before college?”

“Yep, I do 4x100s.”

“Oh, same here!” You flashed a smile. “Wow, what a coincidence that I’d bump into you huh.” Jungkook chuckled and you did the same. “Must be a sign that we’ll both be teammates.”

“Not a bad sign at all.”

“Yn!” Miya waved her hand wildly amidst the crowd. “I was about to leave the booth to go find you! What booths did you— Oh hi, I’m Miya, you are?”

“Jungkook. Nice to meet you. You must be the friend yn was going back for.”

Miya gave you a subtle look which you chose to ignore that day.

“Jungkook,” Miya grinned, “It’s nice to meet you too!”

“Speaking of the party, yn, you know Jungkook will be there as well, right?”

“Yes, this is the tenth time you’ve told me that.”

“Sorry, just another reminder before we pull up to the party.”

Besides having a ton of workload to do, you also had another reason for having second thoughts.

That reason was Jungkook.

“Thanks for your concern. But it’s been a year, I’m long over it.”

“That’s great to hear, I’m proud of you yn.” Namjoon piped in as he parked the car. “And we,” He placed his hand on Miya’s, “Should trust our friend’s word.”

Miya glanced at you before sighing, “Alright. I do. Now, let’s go greet the birthday boy.”

The three of you left the car and made your way to the party venue. The birthday boy was clearly loaded as the venue was huge. You jaw dropped in awe, “Why is this party so extravagant?”

“Good thing our birthday gifts are more drinks.” Miya nudged you and you laughed, nodding your head.

You were all greeted with blaring music from the stereo and neon lights to add into the ambience. People had already begun drinking and some were busy eating dinner.

“Yn!! I missed you!” A very familiar voice erupted as you spotted a figure rushing towards you.

“Hoseok!” You grinned, extending your arms out for a hug.

“You didn’t come to my party!” He pouted as he pulled away. “But I visited the next day as a surprise!” You defended yourself.

“That’s true… Still feels like forever since I saw you.” Hoseok pulled you back in for a hug.

The four of you made your way to one of open rooms which had been turned into a buffet area. You had helped yourself to the wide array of food and found a table to eat with your friends.

“We have a new hurdler joining us. He’s our batch but he only joined the club this try-out round.” Namjoon filled you in since you were the only non-hurdler in your group.

“Oh, who is it?”

“Kim Taehyung.”

“Wait, Kim Taehyung? Isn’t he from table tennis?”

Namjoon shrugged his shoulders, “Guess he wanted to try something new. I was there during try-outs and he’s a really fast runner.”

—

Since it was a huge party and you weren’t close to the birthday boy, you didn’t need to spend the night entertaining the main character of the night.

To make full use of the amenities at the booked venue, the four of you started playing different rounds of games.

You were paired with Hoseok against Miya and Namjoon. The first round was charades and you lost to them. Hoseok found the game Just Dance and proposed it as the next round.

Jungkook had not been on your mind the entire night as you busied yourself playing games with your friends.

“What else can you do?!” Miya exclaimed, stepping in front to take over Hoseok’s spot.

“More like what else can you not do?! That was amazing!” You pulled Hoseok in for hug, “We’re gonna win this. Get ready to treat us for a meal!”

Namjoon chuckled, “We have to do another game after this. Hoseok basically created the game Just Dance. He followed the moves to easily.”

“Don’t whine, just dance!” Hoseok teased, pulling you back on the couch as you both watched Miya and Namjoon do their round.

“Didn’t want to ruin the mood but… He’s watching.” Hoseok leaned in to whisper in your ear. Your eyes slowly wandered around the venue to spot a familiar figure hanging around a crowd of people.

You both made eye contact and you decided to cast a smile at his direction. In return, you received a quick and small smile before he looked away, completely avoiding your direction.

“That went well.”

“Give him time.”

“Hobi,” you deadpanned, “I’m pretty sure one year is a lot of time.”

Hoseok just shrugged, “I know but… Okay, I have nothing to say to defend him.”

You chuckled, turning your attention back to Miya and Namjoon, “You don’t have to defend him.”

“He’s my close friend too.”

“I know, and I feel bad that you have to split yourself in half every time—“

“No, no,” Hoseok nudged you to get that thought off your mind, “I don’t feel that way. Besides, I met the two of you on separate occasions as well. Please don’t feel guilty about anything.”

You gave him a thankful smile, “Thanks Hobi.”

The Just Dance bet ended with your landslide victory thanks to Hoseok’s hidden dance skills.

Namjoon insisted for another game to even the playing field and Hoseok went out to the backyard to set up the beer pong table. Miya and Namjoon had gone to the kitchen to grab the cups and drinks and you had volunteered to grab more titbits to snack on.

Thanks to your luck, Jungkook had busied himself with filling his plate with snacks as well.

“Hey.”

Jungkook jumped upon heading your voice, quickly steadying the plate on his hand. “H-Hey.”

“How’s the party going?”

You attempted to start a conversation with him as you grabbed a plate yourself. Jungkook awkwardly cleared his throat, “It’s a huge party… H-How about— Are you enjoying it?”

“Yea, there’s tons of things to do. How about you?”

“Yea.” Jungkook fiddled with one of the serving scoops. You pressed your lips in a tight smile, recognising the awkward atmosphere engulfing the both of you.

It hurt you to know Jungkook was still feeling awkward around you. It always reminded you that you had made the wrong choice. That you had ruined everything between the two of you.

“Right, I guess I’ll head off first. See you at practice?”

“Yea… See you around.” Jungkook nodded his head, his gaze locked on the table filled with snacks as you left the area, feeling dejected from your encounter.

“What’s with the long face?” Hoseok asked as you approached your group. You looked up to meet his eyes and he immediately knew, sighing as he pulled you into a comforting hug.

“It’s not your fault.”

“Still feels like it is.”

-

“Is it just me or am I still hungover from the party?”

You laughed, “You had a whole Sunday to rest.”

Miya sighed as she started doing hip circles. “I know, I must be getting old.”

“You probably are. Anyway, where is Namjoon?”

Just as you had asked, you heard his voice calling you and Miya. The both of you turned to see Namjoon heading over your direction with someone unfamiliar next to him. Namjoon was goofily waving his hands to grab your attention while pointing to the male next to him.

As they got closer, you managed to recognise the person next him. It was Kim Taehyung. He was popular in college because he was very talented at table tennis. It shocked you when Namjoon said he had joined the track team as a hurdler.

“You two must be Miya and Yn. I’m Taehyung.” He stuck out his hand for a handshake.

With a light smile, you reached out to return the handshake. Taehyung had a welcoming aura around him. He had a friendly and approachable vibe. He was tall, athletic, and good looking.

“So, what made you join track?”

He shrugged his shoulders, “It’s our last year in college, wanted to try something different.”

“Hope you like it here.”

Taehyung glanced back at you, casting a boxy grin your way, “I think I will.”

The coach blew their whistle to grab everyone’s attention. Everyone made their way to the centre of the field to start physical training. Training started with light warm-ups before rounds around the track.

While running, Taehyung was happily chatting away with you to get to know you better. “That sucks, so you’re not a hurdler?”

“Nope, I do 4x100s.”

“So, I’ll only get to see you once a week.” Taehyung pouted and you chuckled, “You can see me on other days.”

Track had 3 sessions a week - one combined with everyone and two within your own events. The combined session was physical training for all, hence why you were running rounds with a hurdler by your side.

“I’ll take that up!” He winked at you before speeding up slightly, “Catch me if you can!”

From behind, Jungkook watched you and Taehyung converse with a scowl on his face.

Why were you even talking while jogging? Was Taehyung flirting with you?

He used to be the one disturbing you during these rounds.

Jungkook tried to shrug off the scene of you and Taehyung together, ignoring the bitter feeling growing in his chest.

-

“Don’t feel bad. You’re sick, I’ll bring up some food for you.” You grabbed your student ID and phone as you insisted that Miya stayed in bed. Casting you a weak smile, she thanked you as you left your dorm to head off to the dining hall.

You lucked out when you saw Jungkook standing at the end of the queue, scrolling through his phone. With a deep breathe in as you made your way to join the queue. “Hey.” You gave a cautious greeting towards his way. Jungkook’s heart jumped, his grip tightening on his phone as he looked up to see you smiling at him.

“Hey.”

Jungkook hated how awkward he felt with you. It never used to be that way. Then again, that was a year ago.

You also never understood why Jungkook was the one avoiding you when you were the one who got rejected.

“Today was fun.” Jungkook gave you a toothy grin, “Yea it was.”

“Definitely my new favourite restaurant. I’m so full!” He playfully patted his stomach and you chuckled, “Looks like I know where to go when you start being grumpy or stressed.”

“That’s easy, you don’t have to take me to that restaurant. I just have to spend time with you and I’m good to go.” He shrugged his shoulders. Your heart fluttered at how nonchalant his words were yet so genuine. You had been thinking about it the entire afternoon, contemplating if it was the right decision. But you knew you had to let it out before it was too late.

“You good?” Jungkook pulled you out from your thoughts. “Mm? Oh yea, I’m good.” Your feet lazily kicked a stone in front of you.

“Hey,” Jungkook stopped walking, gently placing his hand on your arm to turn you around to face him. “You can always tell me something.”

“I know, I’m… I’m just tired that’s all.”

Jungkook pursed his lips together, “How about we head over to my place to watch a movie?”

“Sure.”

You let Jungkook choose the movie for the night as your head was far away. Jungkook nudged you, shimmying his shoulders. That was always his signal when he offered his shoulder for you to rest on. You gave him a small smile as you leaned your head on his shoulder.

Despite loving Marvel, you found yourself not paying a single ounce of attention to the movie. Jungkook seemed to have noticed that as you weren’t bantering with his small comments to the movie.

You were brought back to reality when you noticed the movie was paused.

“What’s wrong?” You asked, sitting up to face Jungkook.

“I was about to ask that.”

“I’m… I’m tired. I think I’ll just head home for the night.”

Jungkook frowned and you had to look away to save yourself from crumbling into pieces.

“Are you sure you don’t want to talk about what’s on your mind?”

You sighed, this was it. You just had to let it out.

“Promise me you won’t hate me?”

“Hate you? Jungkook repeated, “I would never hate you.”

He placed his hand on your knee, encouraging you to continue. “I’ve liked you for a while.” You paused, allowing the words to sink in. You could feel his hand stiffen and you were sure he could hear the loud beating of your heart.

The silence was deafening.

Your confession repeating in both your heads.

As every second dragged on, you started to regret it even more. You had made a terrible mistake and there was no way you could take it back. Life had no re-dos.

“I’m guessing you don’t feel the same way, given the response.” You clicked your tongue together, gathering the courage to look up at him.

Jungkook was lost for words. He would have never expected to hear a confession from you that night. From his closest friend. From his best friend.

Your words left a funny feeling in him that night, but he could not tell whether it was a good or bad feeling.

“Well, don’t worry.” You forced a laugh, “I didn’t expect much anyway. I just wanted to let it out. But I’m guessing I just ruined our friendship.”

“N-No, uh… I just… I just need time to… to absorb all of this.”

You nodded your head, “I understand.” You took it as a cue to get up from the couch, Jungkook’s eyes following your figure. “I’ll see myself out. Sorry for ruining the night.”

“T-Text me when you made it home safely.” Jungkook called out as you headed for the door.

Terrible. Even after ruining your friendship, Jungkook was still looking out for you. You hated how that made you feel. You turned around to face him one more time, a smile plastered on your face.

“Will do. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

It pained Jungkook to see you holding back your tears. If he could have another chance to replay that night. He would’ve stopped you from leaving, he would’ve told you that your friendship wasn’t ruined.

He would’ve done anything he could that night to stop you from leaving his life.

But in reality, he did none of those.

When you texted him that night that you were home, your message was left unread.

You took it as a message to give him time to process everything. A night turned into a day. A day turned into a week. A week turned into a month. A month turned into a year.

It was because of your confession, you both had become strangers once again.

“Yn!”

“Oh, hi Tae!”

Despite using his phone, Jungkook’s attention was on your conversation with Taehyung. You were already calling him ‘Tae’? Since when were you that close with him?

“Namjoon told me Miya’s sick. She alright?”

“Yep, just grabbing food for her so she can take her meds and rest.”

“Need my help?”

“Oh no, all’s good.”

Taehyung nudged you, “It’s alright, you have to get your own food too. I’ve already eaten, I can help carry her food up to your dorm, check up on her as well.”

“Sure, if you’re free, that is.”

“Free for you.” He teased and you laughed, looking away momentarily to see Jungkook who seemed to be invested in his phone.

“Oh, Jungkook! Didn’t recognise you at first. How’ve you been?”

Jungkook looked up to greet Taehyung, “H-Hey, I’ve been well.”

Ever since meeting Taehyung, he got along with your group easily. In fact, he got along with everyone effortlessly. He knew almost everyone in the track team only after 2 weeks. That meant only 2 combined sessions. Somehow along the way, it seemed that he had introduced himself to Jungkook as well.

Taehyung was amazing with people and that was admirable. The more you got to know Taehyung, the more you looked forward to hanging out with him.

“See you next practice!” Taehyung happily patted Jungkook’s shoulders goodbye as you two went off a different direction towards your dorm.

You barely register their conversation as your head was somewhere else, recalling the night you had confessed.

“Hey, are you okay?” Taehyung’s concerned voice made you look up to meet his eyes.

“I’m okay.”

Taehyung frowned, glancing behind to see Jungkook looking at the two of you walking away. Jungkook shook his head, quickly glancing away as Taehyung caught him looking.

“Something to do with Jungkook, perhaps?”

Taehyung was very observant and you knew you couldn’t fool him as well.

“Sort of… We just used to be close but... He’s been avoiding me and I’ve been trying to salvage whatever’s left. But it doesn’t seem to be working.”

Taehyung pursed his lips together, “It’s not fair if only one party is putting in the effort, you know.”

“I know, it’s just that… We used to be close.” You sighed as you stepped into the elevator with him, your gaze on your tray of food.

“Still, it’s not worth salvaging if you’re the only one putting in the effort. I’m sure you’ve done your best. Sometimes, you just can’t force things to happen.”

As the elevator opened to your level, you allowed his words to sink in.

“Miya! We come with food!” Taehyung grinned, bringing the tray to your sick roommate as she thanked the two of you for your help.

Your eyes trailed to Taehyung who was helping Miya grab her medicine and a glass of water.

Maybe Taehyung was right. Maybe it’s time to stop trying.

#bts fluff #bts angst #bts drabble #bts imagines #bts fanfic #bts ff #bts x reader #bts college au #bts x yn #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook drablle #jungkook x reader #jungkook x yn #jungkook college au #jungkook ff #jungkook fanfic #jungkook imagine #jungkook scenarios #taehyung fluff #taehyung angst #taehyung x reader #taehyung x yn #taehyung oneshot #jungkook oneshot #bts oneshot #taehyung college au #taehyung ff

[slytherin-2-mychamber]

Together in the Darkness: Part 1 🖤

- Hey guys wanted to try writing a little series, not sure how many parts this will have!

- Draco x reader

- Original Family name: Aldor (Zohar - father, Odessa - mother)

- The reader is a pureblood, from a family of death eaters - I wanted to write a character that was quite twisted, almost a mini Bellatrix. Her and Draco have been asked to help the Dark Lords cause, and in turn are given their own Dark Marks.

- House: Slytherin

- Set during 6th year, normal timeline (minus a few changes, like Lucius not being in prison)

- Warning: smut/insinuations of smut, pain/injury

- 1.9K words 🖤

- My Masterlist 🖤

Bodies intertwined Y/N and Draco collapsed into each other’s arms, panting and heaving. They lay there silently in Dracos huge four poster bed, the silk sheets sticking to their sweating skin, Dracos finger slowly tracing down the side of Y/N’s body. He admired her for a moment, smirking as his eyes lingered on her lips, thoughts of ravishing her all over again running through his mind.

“Draco, get that look of your face, we do not have time” Y/N giggled, batting him away and slipping out the bed.

“Come on we don’t need to be downstairs for another twenty minutes” he pleaded.

“Don’t flatter yourself Draco, you wouldn’t last twenty minutes” she teased sarcastically, “besides we need to look our best, I overheard my mother talking to your Aunt Bella, I think we might finally be meeting him Draco” Y/N squeaked, pulling out her best black dress.

“What do you mean? I thought we were just having dinner with our parents, who are we meeting?” Draco asked.

“The Dark Lord” Y/N responded with a sinister grin on her face.

Y/N like Draco, came from an extremely wealthy, pureblood family, they had both spent their childhoods listening to story’s of the great Lord Voldemort and how he would rise again one day, now that day had finally arrived.

“Really?” Draco said apprehensively, moving towards his wardrobe to choose a suit for himself. Draco wouldn’t admit it but he was worried about the Dark Lord, why was he interested in meeting two young wizards, they surely were of no use to him.

“Yes really, isn’t it exciting?” Y/N gushed, before turning to face Draco, “What do you think? Do I look alright?“ she asked straightening out her corset.

“You look gorgeous my love” he hummed moving across to her, wrapping his arms around her body and kissing her passionately.

“Do you think we will get our dark marks?” she whispered in his ear.

“I don’t know, maybe we are too young yet” Draco replied.

“Nonsense, we are the best students in our year, we’ve been practicing duelling since we were eight Draco, we were born for this” Y/N responded slightly manically.

“Very true, well we will wait and see” Draco added quietly, placing a kiss on her cheek, before beginning to put his suit on.

Soon enough the pair made their way, hand in hand, into the Malfoy Manor dining room, a chilling breeze drifted through the air.

“Well don’t you two look wonderful” Narcissa beamed up at her son and Y/N.

“Thank you” Y/N hummed, “Mother, Father, what do you think?” she asked turning to her parents who were already sat at the long oak table.

“You look perfect, our little girl all grown up” her father hummed, her mother nodded in agreement. Suddenly there was a huge crashing sound and the doors to Malfoy Manor swung open, the room filled with thick black smoke as various death eaters apparated into seats around the table. Finally he appeared, Lord Voldemort, in all his glory, translucent skin, rigid features, an ominous evil that lurked in his snake like eyes.

“My lord, welcome, please please ” Lucius stuttered seemingly terrified, as they all took their seats. Y/N’s eyes were fixated on Voldemort as she sat down, she couldn’t believe she was finally meeting him after all these years of suspense. Draco sat next to her, running his hand over the top of her thigh under the table.

“How lovely to see you all again, my loyal supporters” Voldemort hissed, walking around the table, “Lucius it’s good to see you back with us, how was Azkaban?” he teased, Bellatrix cackled alongside him.

“I’m glad to be back home my lord” Lucius responded timidly, Y/N had never seen him look so anxious.

“Now to business, are the two children here” Voldemorts eyes snapped onto Draco and Y/N, Draco’s grip tightened around her leg.

“My my Aldor, is this your girl, isn’t she just a vision” he whispered floating around to stand next to Y/N and Draco,

“Yes my lord, this is Y/N” Zohar Aldor, Y/N’s father, stated proudly. Voldemort examined Y/N noticing Draco touching her under the table, “Ah young love - aren’t they adorable” he joked, warranting a laugh from the room.

“Has anyone informed them of their tasks, or do I have to do everything myself?” he questioned, everyone looked downwards silently, even Draco and Y/N’s parents.

“I can tell them my lord, if you’d like” Bellatrix cooed in his ear, she’d do anything to impress him.

“If you wish Bella” Voldemort nodded towards her, before taking a seat at the head of the table.

“The two of you - are going to help us” she said menacingly, appearing over Y/N’s shoulder “You are going to help us take down that old fool Dumbledore and get into Hogwarts.” Bellatrix spent the next twenty minutes, explaining the plan; Y/N was to begin recruiting other students for their cause, taking note of those who refuse, or are simply muggleborn, Draco must fix the Vanishing Cabinet, and together they must conspire to kill Albus Dumbledore.

Y/N was speechless, she had been chosen alongside Draco, by the Dark Lord himself to assist his plan, her father beamed across the table at her.

“They are just children my lord, do you not think this may be too much for them?” Narcissa asked quietly.

“Don’t be ridiculous Sissy, they should be honoured” Bella snapped, coiling her hand round Dracos shoulder and pulling him out of his chair.

“Now then, if your going to be working with us, we need proof we can trust you, that you are truly one of us” Bella dragged Draco round to where Lord Voldemort was sat.

“Draco, present your arm” Voldemort demanded. Draco’s eyes shot down the table to Y/N, a slight look of apprehension in his face, whilst he pulled up his shirt sleeve to reveal the porcelain skin of his inner left forearm. Voldemort lifted his finger to Dracos arm, murmuring an incantation under his breath. Slowly a red rash ran over Dracos arm, swelling into the shape of a skull, Draco winced in pain as the mark turned black and a long snake fell out of the skulls mouth, twisting down his arm and settling, it was done, Draco had been branded.

“Come on Miss Aldor, don’t keep me waiting” Voldemort barked. Y/N slowly rose from her seat, eyes locked with Draco’s as she made her way down the room, yes she felt nervous but this is what she was born for, it was all she’d known, it was finally her chance at glory. She confidently presented her arm to Voldemort, taking a deep breathe she braced herself for the pain she had seen Draco experience, but as she watched the mark force itself through her skin, darkness rushing to each corner of her forearm, all she felt was power.

“Well done - both of you - I hope I can trust you - now you can leave us adults to talk” Voldemort said looking up at the pair.

“Of course my lord, thank you my lord” Y/N responded immediately, Draco just nodded lightly, his hand moving around her waist as they walked away.

Draco closed the doors to his bedroom gently, turning to watch Y/N who had practically skipped up the stairs and was now stood in front of the mirror admiring the new addition to her skin.

“You seem.. happy?” Draco said hesitantly,

“Aren’t you?” Y/N exclaimed “I knew it would happen, father has always said if the Dark Lord rose again he would chose me, that I was capable of being the best witch of our age…” she blabbered on boastfully. Draco approached her from behind wrapping his arms around her waist, his mark burning slightly as it rubbed against the rough material on her corset.

“You are the best witch of our age” he giggled “and yes I am happy.. I think..” he placed kisses along her exposed shoulder and up her neck, “I just know I have to do this for you and for my family, thats enough for me” he whispered in her ear, a soft smile crept across her face, she turned herself around and met his lips with a single kiss.

“Do it for yourself as well, to prove to anyone who doubted you just how powerful you are, you were chosen by the great Lord Voldemort, he trusts you! He trusts us!” she exclaimed, kissing him again. Y/N made her way over to the wardrobe, pulling out her wand and using it to charm her corset which began untying itself.

“Your right, of course your right!” Draco roared, a sinister glisten sparked in his eyes, following Y/N across the room,

“And just think after it’s all done, we will be together, the most powerful and feared young magical couple in the wizarding world, we can live like royalty” Y/N squealed, a consuming power surging through her body still. She ripped off her corset finally, and slipped off her dress leaving her standing in a matching black underwear set, Dracos mouth fell slightly ajar as he move towards her, loosening off his tie and undoing the buttons on his shirt.

“Does yours hurt?” he asked signalling towards her arm.

“No, it just feels..right” she responded, the two had now met in the middle of the room, Y/N pushed Draco’s shirt off his shoulders to reveal his toned chest and long muscular arms, slowly she kissed down from his neck to where his dark mark lay, placing a gentle peck on top of it.

“I think they are beautiful, in a dark and twisted way” she giggled, lifting her arm to meet Dracos so their marks sat next to each other.

“I think you are beautiful.. in a dark and twisted way” Draco joked, scooping Y/N up in his arms, now able to ignore the burning sensation coming from his mark as he felt more confident. He made his way over to the bed, drowning her with kisses before throwing her down and jumping on top of her.

“Draco, our parents, the Dark Lord, what if they hear us?” Y/N asked quietly, grinning mischievously.

“Let them” he smirked, before beginning to hungrily ravish her body, Y/N moaning tenderly under his touch.

After what felt like hours, Y/N and Draco fell back into each other’s arms, breathless and satisfied. Y/N smiled up at him, watching the beads of sweat drip down his forehead, she loved the affect she had on him, no one made Draco feel the way she did, she knew no one could ever replace her. She thought about the task they were about to undertake, the darkness they were about to journey into together, she should be scared but she wasn’t.

“What you smiling at?” Draco asked as he met her gaze.

“Just how perfect we are for each other” she hummed confidently,

“Yes we really are aren’t we” Draco chuckled. Y/N leant over linking her fingers with Dracos, their dark marks coming face to face.

“Together forever?” she asked.

“Together forever” Draco responded, placing a kiss on her forehead.

#draco fic #draco fluff #draco malfoy #draco x reader #draco x you #harry potter #potterhead #draco imagine #draco x y/n #draco x slytherin!reader #voldemort #dark lord #dark mark #death eaters #bellatrix lestrange #lucius malfoy #malfoy manor #draco smut #draco angst #slytherin #harry james potter #draco lucius malfoy

[midnight-dreamerness]

Savior

Chapter 1: Brother’s Best Friend

(This is NOT my gif. Credit to the creator <3)

series summary: when your protector returns, he finds you broken and abused and helps you climb out of the darkness

chapter summary: you never thought you would see him after the funeral, but here he is.

pairing: Jay Halstead x Reader

warning: small mentions of smut(nothing major), mentions of abuse, mentions of death, mentions of blood

word count: 2.3k

A/N: Not sure how I feel about this first chapter...let me know what you think! Also some of this may be confusing but it will get cleared up as the story goes on. Also I barely looked over this for mistakes, so sorry in advance <3

~

You met him in college. He was the popular football player, wanna be NFL. You were the book work that didn’t need any distractions. He was sweet and caring but cocky. Somehow he convinced you to go on a date with him. Everything was going great, but then he hurt his knee during a football game. Then he changed.

At the beginning it was just a couple of harsh words here and there. He would apologize after.

“I’m sorry, honey,” he would say, pulling you close. You got used to it, to the words, the hateful glances he would send ever so often.

His future as a football player was no more. He ended up working in an office, but it wasn’t enough for him.

The first time he hit you, he had come back from the bar, drunk and angry. He had met up with his old teammates, got plastered, made a scene, and got kicked out of the bar. He apologized that morning, crying for forgiveness. And you forgave him. You stayed, even when the abuse continued and got worse.

The worst part is, you blame yourself.

I shouldn’t have tested him and I wouldn’t have to cover the bruise on my jaw with a pound of makeup.

And now, almost 3 years later, you're still making excuses for him. Every hit, every slap, every kick to the ribs, every busted lip or bruised jaw, it was always your fault. It didn’t matter that you did everything he asked. He always found something to punish you for whether it was leaving a dish in the sink, not having dinner ready for him when he got home, forgetting to pick up something for him at the store, or something simple like not making the bed. It was always something.

Kade wasn’t always beating you. He had good days too. You glance down at the ring on your finger, finding it out of place. It didn’t fit right anymore. It didn’t look right on your hand. Truth be told, you didn’t want it there anymore. But what were you going to do? He had mentioned time and time again that if you were to ever leave, he’d kill you.

The elevator dings, indicating someone had come up. It gains your attention, pulling your eyes from the files you were currently going over familiar. His familiar face pulls at your heart and your mind flashes with memories. You couldn’t believe your eyes. Your brother's old best friend is walking right up to your desk, a smile that somehow still makes you weak at the knees, stretched across his face. His eyes shimmer with glee, like he recognized you the instant your eyes met. The familiar ocean blue pulls you in and you're drowning in them all over again.

The gold star hanging from his neck has your attention, a grin appearing on your face. He’s always been a protector. You remember when Danny, your brother, had left, leaving you behind while he fought wars overseas. Jay was a year younger, so Danny had made him promise to look after you. He made him promise to protect you. And he did, until ultimately the year following, he left too.

He approached the desk, shaking his head while letting out a laugh.

“I couldn’t believe it. Miss Hawkins, secretary to the multimillionaire Reese Connor,” he teases, placing his elbows on the counter, intertwining his fingers together. You shift your weight from one foot to the other, trying to ease the pain from your side. He’s bigger since the last time you saw him, it must be four years now. You were barely 22 when he showed up to your front door, holding your brother's dog tags in his hand and tears in his perfect blue eyes.

“Me? Let’s talk about you, Mr. Detective. I heard you’ve been kicking it in the Intelligence Unit.” You laugh, leaning over to shove his arm. He chuckles but something catches his eye. There’s red marks around your neck. You didn’t notice where his eyes trailed, so busy looking over what you could see from your stop behind the counter.

His shoulders were broad, more so than last time it seems. His jaw, not as sharp as it once was and he was no longer clean shaven. His five o’clock shadow runs across his jaw and the lower part of his cheeks. You remember all the complaining he did when he was younger about how he could never grow it out probably and opted just to shave it so your brother would stop teasing him relentlessly.

There’s still freckles running over his face in the most perfect way, trailing down his neck and down under his shirt. There’s a scar leaking out from his olive green shirt that is partially covered by his leather jacket.

You shake your head, looking back into his eyes that hold a different emotion you couldn’t pinpoint, and sigh. “What can I do for you Detective Halstead?” You grinned teasingly. His smile reappeared in a matter of milliseconds.

“I need to speak to Reese involving a case I’m working on. Is there any way I could speak to him?”

You purse your lips, looking down at your watch before replying, “He’s currently in a meeting, it should be over in about ten minutes if you wanna sit and wait?” Jay nods. You smile, pointing towards the chair behind your desk.

He rounds your desk and takes a seat only a couple of feet from your chair, which you sit back down in. You try to ignore the burning in your cheeks. This feeling takes you back to when you were fifteen. A young and naive teenager who thought she was in love with her older brother's best friend, who was 4 years older than you.

“I can see your cherry red face and your facing away from me.” His comment only made it worse. You groan, closing the file and turning to him.

“You haven’t changed have you?” You ask, crossing your legs. It gains his attention immediately. His eyes trail down to your ankle, a large bruise covers the area.

“Well it seems you got more beautiful since the last time I saw you,” he stares, leaning back in his seat. A sting punctures your heart, sadness attempting to creep over you. You push it away, laughing.

“Yeah well it’s been a while since then.”

“You know, I can still remember those boy band posters hanging in your bedroom. And those pigtails you wore everyday in middle school.”

Groaning, you reply, “I hope you don’t still see me as that clingy preteen.”

“I think you know I don’t see you that way anymore.” You knew exactly what he was hinting at, and if it could get any worse, the burning in your cheeks intensified, the ache between your legs reminding you of how good he made you feel and how no other man, even Kade, could make you feel the way he did.

You suck your lips into your mouth, trying to hide your smile.

“What are you here for?” You find yourself asking, picking at your nails, attempting to change the subject before you say something you shouldn’t.

“I’m afraid I can’t answer that.”

Jay lets out a chuckle, making you glance back up to him. He’s shaking his head with a grin. You pout, turning back to your desk.

There was a slight pause as you tried to focus on your work, but you could feel his eyes on you, like he was trying to figure you out after all these years.

“Those are some nasty cuts on your hands, butterfly. What happened?” The nickname brought back so many memories of you and your brother. Tears welled in your eyes but you forced yourself to focus on the question, nervousness sitting in your stomach.

“I broke a plate washing dishes.” The lie fell smooth from your lips, dripping with innocence. A sound leaves his lips, like he didn’t believe you.

“Your eye?”

“Walked into a wall.”

“What about that bruise on your leg?” Looking down, the bruise now visible on the back of your leg you hadn’t noticed this morning while getting ready. You whipped around in your chair to look at the detective coldly.

“I fell.”

“I know you're clumsy, sweetheart, but not that clumsy.” Jag leans over, his forearms leaning against his thighs. “What about the red marks around your neck? Or the bruise on your shoulder that I can see through your white blouse.”

You curse yourself for being so careless. If Kade found out someone was questioning you, a detective and a friend no less, he’d kill you.

“Are you interrogating me, detective?” You ask, looking at him sternly. You intertwine your fingers and sit them in your lap. You watch him cross his arms over his chest, his muscular biceps, bulging through the sleeves of his jacket, gaining your attention. Gulping, you adjust your crossed legs desperate for the little pressure it gives. You hated that he could make you this desperate. Despite being angry, you could tell he knew the effect he had on you. He was going to use it to wiggle the information out of you.

“Does he do it when he’s drunk, sober, or both?”

You narrow your eyes, recalling the times you could smell it on his breath and the times you couldn’t. It seemed like it was worse when he was sober, when he was drunk he was sloppy. You glanced down to your lap, trying to keep the tears at bay. You didn’t need his sympathy. You didn’t need his help. You were a grown woman and you didn’t need your dead brother's best friend looking out for you anymore. You no longer needed his protection.

Luckily you're saved by a man approaching your desk from the direction of Mr. Reese’s office.

“Thank you, Miss Hawkins.” The man slaps the desk before continuing towards the elevator. You rise from your chair, motioning Jay to follow you down the hall towards your boss's office.

“That’s a pretty bad limp. You should get it checked out.”

You stop in the middle of the hall and turn to him, annoyed at this point.

“Detective-“

“What happened to JJ?”

Your eyebrows pull together as you run your hand over your face, a sigh escaping your lips. “Jay, I know you promised my brother you’d look out for me, but I’m fine.” You try to reason, even grabbing his arm and giving him a smile.

“I’m not doing this because of Danny, sweetheart. Believe it or not, I care about you,” he says, stepping closer to you. You gulp, pressing your hands to his chest. He had you against the wall now, his arms on either side of your head, trapping you.

“Jay, please. I’m engaged.”

Jay pulls back abruptly, giving you a shocked look but there was anger in his eyes.

“You're marrying that bastard?” He lets out a sarcastic laugh, shaking his head. You move to touch him, but he moves from your grasp.

“Take me to Reese.”

You look down, nodding before continuing on towards your boss's office. You knock on the door, waiting on the okay before walking inside. Your boss sits at his desk and was previously focused on his computer but his attention is turned to you.

“A Detective Halstead is here to see you.”

He flashes you a smile before motioning him inside. You let Jay pass, taking in a sharp breath as his body brushes with yours.

Once you're outside and the door is shut behind you, you lean against the wall, trying to calm yourself down. Ever since he came back from his first tour, to spend some time with his family, your feelings for him became much more than some school girl crush. You saw him in a new light. He was more than your brother's best friend, more than that guy who looked after you ever so often. He was a man and you, you were a woman. You had hoped for so long that he would see you differently. He did, but the time for you and him had passed.

Your little moment was ruined by the sound of a voice, “Who the hell was that?” Your head snaps towards the end of the hall. Kade’s friend Nathan stands there, a glare set in his eyes. You can hear your heartbeat in your ears as your breathing becomes unsteady. You're stuttering out incoherent words but he’s already pulled out his phone and dials a number while walking in the opposite direction of where you're standing.

Although filled with fear and worry, you continued working, distracting yourself and praying that he’ll let it go, or at least listen to you when you tell him you didn’t say a word to Jay. He knows Jay, and when he finds out that it was him who you were talking to, it’s going to be ten times worse.

Your attention is once again drawn to him as he walks up to your desk from the direction of the hall. He slides a card onto the table towards you.

“I wasn’t there for you like I promised you that day. I failed you, and I failed him. I know the signs. When you're ready to get out, call me. I won’t let you down, not this time.” You watch him walk away, heart sinking into your stomach. You want him to come back, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to call out to him, or to trust him again.

Before he enters the elevator, he gives you another look and adds, “You’re strong. Remember that.”

He gets into the elevator and he’s gone. You picked up the card, looking it over. He reminds you that not every man is as awful as Kade. But he has his claws dug into you so deep, you can’t even trust Jay, the man who protected you when your brother was away. You don’t know what to do without Kade. You love him.

He’s going to change, you tell yourself. You only hope you’re right.

_

A/N: Okay can i just say how sorry i am for how long it took me to post this story :( Not gonna make any promises but chapter two should be out Friday or Saturday. Thanks for the support. If you want to be added to my taglist let me know!

#chicago pd #chicago pd imagines #jay halstead #jay halstead imagines #jay halstead x reader #one chicago #detective jay halstead #jay halstead one shots #chicago pd x reader #dom jay halstead

[battybatzgirl]

Hey Mr. Sandman, You Missed a Spot

AO3

Summary: 

It's not that Hunter doesn't ever sleep, Eda's come to realize. It was that he falls asleep sporadically, most of the time in really weird places.

Or: 5 times Eda catches Hunter taking a nap

Part 1 of the Finders Keepers Series

---

Here’s the thing about Eda: she loves naps. Eda likes to be cozy, so usually, that equated to curling up under a blanket, lazing around, and falling asleep. The Owl Beast shared that sentiment, the creature that lived within her constantly wanting to nest. Those animalistic instincts were weird, but when you lived in a house with a demon who also liked to bury himself under a pile of stuffed animals, you kind of got used to it.

Here’s the thing about Hunter: he doesn’t sleep.

The kid has been living with them for only about two weeks, officially replacing Eda as Public Enemy Numero Uno in the eyes of the Emperor. When he’d showed up on Hooty’s doorstep, all bloody and barely conscious, Eda thought it was some kind of cosmic trick. The Powers That Be had to be pulling her leg because this was the second time the leader of the Emperor’s Coven had shown up to the Owl House with nowhere else to go.

Luz had been ecstatic to welcome him in, apparently excited to finally fulfill her dreams of becoming a middle child in their weird little found family. King was less thrilled, but eventually warmed up to the idea of Hunter staying with them as long as he taught King his secrets on how to command an army.

Hunter himself even seemed unnerved at the thought of living with them. He tried to leave a few times when he was still wounded, but his little bird palisman (Rascal, she’s heard him say) effectively herded him back into the house by continuously dive-bombing him and nipping at his ears. And after Belos put out a wanted poster for the kid, making him the Isles’ number one most wanted traitor, leaving wasn’t really an option. Not if he wanted to stay alive.

So eventually, Hunter begrudgingly accepted that yeah, he lived in the Owl House now.

And alright, Eda isn’t heartless. The kid was lost, wounded, and an enemy of the Emperor. She can work with that.

Getting to know him has been a challenge, though. Hunter has a lot of weird quirks. He holds himself so seriously that Eda has a hard time remembering that he’s a teenager and not a fully grown middle-aged man. He hardly ever smiles. He’s jumpy, practically jolting out of his skin every time you walk into the same room. He’s clearly Going Through Some Shit, as Eda so eloquently calls it, remembering how Lily went through the same thing when she slowly broke free of Belos’s freaky subjugation.

But still. The kid doesn’t sleep.

Eda first notices it around day four of his residence. She’s up early to go to the market, stepping into the living room and nearly transforming into her Harpy Form out of pure shock when she sees a figure messing with her bookshelf in the back of the room. Wide maroon eyes lock on hers from across the room and she feels the feathers that sprung to her skin recede.

“Titan, kid,” she breaths, “You nearly killed me. What are you doing up? It’s Saturday, you should be sleeping in.”

“Um…I did sleep in,” Hunter responds, as if it’s obvious.

Eda feels a frown tug at her lips, “The sun isn’t even up yet.”

The kid just shrugs a little lamely, and Eda feels a twinge of concern in her chest. (And ugh, feeling concerned for a guy who dangled you over the Boiling Sea is certainly weird.) If this was sleeping in for him, he couldn’t have rested more than five hours.

She steps closer, taking a second look at what he’s doing. Half the books are spread out on the floor, the other half stacked neatly back on the shelves in some kind of order.

He notices her looking, “I, uh, took the liberty of reorganizing your bookshelf. Or organizing it, since it didn’t really seem to have a system.” The kid ducks his head, the tips of his ears flushing pink. “I- I can put it back the way it was if you want, or organize them in a different way.”

That’s another thing about Hunter: he always has to be doing something. Being useful. Without direction, he crumples. It was always, What do you want me to do now, Miss Clawthorne this and I completed this task, Miss Clawthorne, what’s next that. His brain operated on a transactional level—I do this thing for you, you do this thing for me. And since Eda was housing him, he felt like he had to constantly be doing things for her. Constantly proving himself worthy to be here, repaying her. Hunter couldn’t seem to wrap his head around that she didn’t want him to do anything except stay comfortable.

Eda has thought up a hundred different little tasks for him to do in just his first four days. She’s running out of odd jobs to give him, and if she has to keep telling him what to do she’s going to start pulling out her hair.

“You’re fine, kid,” she says. “Keep doin’ what you’re doin’ if it makes ya happy. But you shouldn’t be up this early. You should at least take a nap later.”

Hunter tilts his head. “But that wouldn’t be accomplishing anything.”

“You don’t hafta be working all the time,” Eda stresses. “It’s okay to sit around and just exist once and a while. Actually, I think that should be your priority. Take a nap, relax, go cloud watching, take a walk—any or all of the above.”

“That sounds like doing nothing.”

“That’s because it is doing nothing.”

His face hardens, taking on that soldier-like seriousness that encompasses his entire demeanor. “Being lazy can’t be a priority.”

“Don’t think of it like that, then,” Eda almost snaps, wishing for a nice hot mug of apple blood. It was too damn early to deal with the repercussions of Belos’s all-work-no-play mindset. “Think of it as acting your age. Did you ever get to take naps as a kid in the Emperor’s Coven? Is relaxing just a foreign concept to you?”

He doesn’t answer, staring at her with those bagged eyes and guarded expression, and Eda throws up her hands in defeat.

She leaves then, her patience running too thin to continue arguing with him. She doubts he’ll actually go back to sleep. He probably goes back to doing whatever he was doing with that bookshelf. Eda makes a mental note to tell King to knock all the books off, just so Hunter can reorganize it later. Just for something for him to keep him occupied.

1.

Eda doesn’t even notice the first time it happens. It was one of Luz’s friends, Gus, who pointed it out.

The kids were gathered at her home after school, spread out on the floor of the living room along with various pillows and blankets. Luz found some card game she knew buried somewhere in the piles of human trash Eda has laying around, and the girl has been spending the better part of an hour trying to explain how it works.

“So the Wild Card doesn’t make you turn into a wild animal?” Willow questions, holding up a black card with looks like a colorful pie chart on it.

“Nope!” Luz says cheerfully. “It just becomes any color you want it to be to go with the rest of your hand.”

“But the card doesn’t actually change color?” Amity asks.

“No, it only represents the color,” Luz clarifies, and Eda has to admit, her girl has a ton of patience. She’s been quietly watching from her place on the couch, half-listening to their conversation, half-reading the Isles’ latest edition of You Gossipy Witch, a tabloid where a writer is speculating about her true form. Apparently, some people think she was raised by feral, wild owls on some far away barrier island, and has come to reside in Bonesborough just because she ran out of mutant rats to eat.

Weird.

But entertaining!

Gus holds up one of his cards, “So are blank cards bad, or—"

King jumps over his shoulder, landing on the deck of cards in the middle of their little circle and making them fly everywhere. “I have taken dominion over ALL YOUR CARDS. All of you must grovel for a taste of my wealth!”

“Actually, the point of the game is to get rid of all your cards,” Luz reminds him gently. “That way, when you get down to one card, you shout Uno! And you win! If no one else makes you draw anymore, that is.”

King deflates a little, apparently put off by the idea of less is more. “Oh.” Luz smiles and pats him on the head, and he brightens up. “Okay, let’s play, because I wanna make all of you draw as many cards as possible! You'll drown in your cards! Choke on them, even!”

As they start gathering up the cards that King threw everywhere, Gus lets out a little gasp. “You guys—is Hunter asleep?”

That immediately draws Eda’s attention away from the magazine. Her eyes flicker to the blond witch, laying on his stomach just on the edge of their group. He was still having a hard time socializing, especially with Amity, but Luz was determined to include him in all friendship activities. She said wanted to teach him how to be a kid, and hell, if anyone could knock some seriousness out of that boy it would be Luz.

Hunter is indeed asleep—his face is mushed into the forearms pillowed under his head, and his red palisman has weaseled its way to nestle in between the crook of his elbow. His breath comes out in soft little sighs, and Eda feels something in her melt.

“Awwww, he looks so peaceful,” Luz croons, mushing her palms against her cheeks. Amity’s already scooched past her, snapping photos on her scroll. Eda can’t blame her. She knows a good blackmail opportunity when she sees one.

Eda’s off the couch and catches King mid-pounce. “Whoa there, none of that buddy.”

“But Edaaaa,” the demon whines, his little arms and legs flailing in mid-air. “I have to conquer him when he least expects it!”

“Ehhh, let the kid sleep. Save your conquests for when he’s awake and can put up a fight.” Eda sets him down in his place in the circle, and the kids all glance at each other before turning back to the cards.

She notices that they’re more mindful to keep their tones softer, probably to not disturb the sleeping boy. And when Hunter wakes himself up about half an hour later, they don’t mention it, seamlessly integrating him back into their game.

2.

The second time it happens, Raine is walking Eda home. It’s early in the evening, and the pair just got done with a fabulous date—a picnic with apple blood and sweet (and stolen) baked goods? Titan, take Eda now, she’s found her perfect match.

She’s still riding that high, not noticing Raine stopping until they tug on their clasped hands. “Hey, who’s that? Is he okay?”

Eda follows where they’re pointing their finger. It’s Hunter, slumped against the base of an oak tree, fast asleep. His chin is tipped forward and a book open on his chest, and even more strangely, there’s a small pile of leaves on his lap.

“Oh, that’s just my—” Eda stops herself, the word catching in her throat. Hunter was a child in her care, yes, but he wasn’t quite her kid. Not like Luz or King. The blond witch was still too jumpy, baring his teeth and snarling at anything that tried to get close to him.

He calls her Miss Clawthorne, for Titan’s sake.

“—Hunter,” Eda finishes lamely.

Raine raises an eyebrow. “Your Hunter?”

“He’s uhhh, one of Luz’s friends who just so happens to be living with us. Not a big thing.”

Raine shoots her a deadpan look but strides forward anyway, kneeling next to the sleeping blond. They keep their voice to a low murmur, “Should we wake him? That can’t be comfortable for his neck. He’ll probably be sore later.”

“Eh, let him rest. This is more sleep than he usually gets.” Eda steps closer, kneeling down on his other side. It’s the side that has his scar, the slightly raised red tissue standing out even more so than usual now that he wasn’t constantly moving. She’s almost asked him how he got it, but he’s clearly sensitive about the subject. She’s seen the similar marks on his arms, and something tells her there are a whole lot more scars that he’s hiding.

It doesn’t take a genius to figure out who gave them to him.

Still, it’s hard to ignore just how young he looks. When he’s stripped of all of his snappy comebacks, quick defenses, and that guarded demeanor Belos forced onto him, he’s reduced to exactly what he should be:

A kid.

“Oh!” Raine startles in surprise. Eda looks up to see the cardinal palisman fluttering down from above them, carrying a few leaves in its beak. It hops down onto Hunter’s lap and deposits the leaves in the little growing pile on his leg.

A smile worms its way onto Eda’s face. She runs a finger across the little bird’s head, “Trying to keep him warm, huh?” The bird lets out a trilling note of confirmation. She lets the bird be, turning back to Raine, “I think Rascal’s got this covered. If he hasn’t come in before nightfall I’ll come out and get ‘em.”

The bard casts one last glance down at the sleeping boy before they stand. “Y’know, he kind of reminds me of someone.”

“Oh yeah?” Eda weaves her arm through Raine’s as the pair reassumes their walk.

“Yeah,” Raine hums. “He kind of has the same build as someone I met when I was held hostage in the Emperor’s palace. The Golden Guard. Did you hear that he ran away from the palace? There've been rumors that the Emperor himself is tearing apart the Right Arm looking for him.”

“Uh, about that...”

Raine stops, turning to look at her square in the face. Eda gives them a sheepish, toothy grin.

“Oh my god,” Raine says. “You adopted the Golden Guard?”

“Hey now, adopted is a very strong word—”

The bard cuts her off with a delighted laugh. “How am I not surprised?” Eda feels heat rise to her face, but can’t help but return Raine’s infectious smile. “Only you, Eda. Only you.”

3.

The third time it happens, Eda’s passing through the upstairs hallway, intent on curling up into her nest for an afternoon nap of her own. She hears a shuffling noise as she passes by the glorified storage closet that they gave Hunter as a room, and can’t resist a peek inside.

What she finds is definitely…not what she was expecting. Hunter is laying flat on his back on the floor, his feet elevated on the little cot they’d given him. Yeesh, that couldn’t be comfortable. Soft snores woosh past his open lips, his face turned toward a crystal ball that’s playing some cartoon he must have been watching before he fell asleep.

His body is nearly covered in stuffed animals.

“King,” Eda hisses. The horned perpetrator is in the middle of dumping his entire army onto the blond witch’s chest, pinning down his arms with plushies. “What did I tell you about burying people alive?”

The demon pauses from where he’s been slowly arranging his army over Hunter’s sleeping form. “He’s got plenty of room to breathe! I didn’t cover his face,” King protests. “Can’t subjugate someone who’s dead.”

“No subjugating—” your brother, she almost says, “—Hunter.”

King squints at her, but then grumbles and starts slowly taking the stuffed animals off the boy’s body. Crisis averted, Eda slips back out into the hall, mind swirling. That was the second time she’d almost referred to Hunter as hers in passing. The feeling is too raw to speak out loud yet, but there’s a growing warmth in her as she watches Hunter acclimate to his surroundings in the Owl House. With every day that goes by, he’s more comfortable around her, around Luz and King and Hooty, and he’s starting to come out of his shell. He’s growing softer, less quick to snarl, becoming more Hunter and less Golden Guard.

Unconsciously, Eda’s started viewing him as part of their little family. Two weeks ago, that thought would have made her uncomfortable. Now, she welcomes it with open arms.

Ugh, she’s getting so soft.

4.

The fourth time it happens is when Eda’s flying home from visiting Lilith. She’s only been gone for the day, and is hoping that leaving Luz in charge hasn’t led to any freak fires, the resurrection of the dead, or other various natural disasters. Unfortunately, even her most responsible kid is pretty reckless, so Eda’s expectations are set pretty low.

It’s probably sometime around 2 a.m. when she makes it home sweet home. She swoops in close, intent on landing on the front door but stilling mid-air when she sees something on the roof of the tower. Even from up here, it’s not hard to distinguish the form of a looming body.

Eda’s heart leaps into her throat and she takes Owlbert down into a dive. Her body is tense when she lands, her staff already aimed toward the person lurking by the edge of the roof. “Alright listen bucko, you better step back or—wait.” She sees what looks like a lump of feathers sitting on top of the person’s head, and Eda squints in the darkness. She quickly pulls out a light glyph, sending the tiny ball of sun forward.

“Hunter?!” Eda’s tense posture relaxes. The kid doesn’t answer, and it takes her a beat to figure out why. He’s dead asleep, slumped precariously over the telescope they use for stargazing. Eda has no idea how he’s even standing at all. Kid probably had a ton of practice of falling asleep on his feet during long, boring meetings with the Emperor.

“Wakey, wakey.” She places her hand on his shoulder, gently, but he wakes up with a full-body jerk, startling the palisman on top of his head. The cardinal chirps once in irritation, fluttering to rest on Eda’s shoulder instead.

Hunter’s eyes are wild for a moment until he seems to register where he is and who he’s with. He relaxes then, letting out a yawn so huge it would put any lion to shame. “…Eda?”

“The one and only,” Eda says, ignoring how her heart squeezes at the kid finally calling her by her name. “Wanna tell me why you’re up here in the middle of the night?”

“Waitin’ for you,” he mumbles, voice rough with sleep. His eyelids drop and he sways dangerously on his feet. “Wanted to… t’make sure y’got home safe.”

The warmth in her chest expands and eclipses her entire body in that fuzzy feeling she gets whenever one of her kids does something particularly adorable. Thank Titan it’s dark and Hunter is too out of it to notice the smile that spreads across her face. If he was fully awake, Eda gets the feeling that A) he probably never would have admitted that he was worried about her, and B) would have snapped at her for smiling at him like that. “Well, I’m home now, so let’s get you to bed before you topple over.”

Eda wraps her arm around his waist and nudges him along, practically carrying him back downstairs, their palismen following close behind. She doesn’t mind. Someone had to make sure he didn’t fall off the roof.

“Night, kid,” she says, tucking him under the blankets on his cot. Hunter doesn’t respond, already having slipped back into unconsciousness. And if she brushes his bangs tenderly out of his face, no one ever has to be the wiser.

5.

The fifth time it happens, Eda’s gotten used to it. It's not that Hunter doesn’t sleep, she’s come to realize. He just falls asleep in weird places. Why, she has no idea, but honestly, the kid looked so tired all the time, she wasn’t going to question it. They had bigger things to worry about.

The Day of Unity is just around the corner, and Belos has become more irritating than ever.

Eda hadn’t even thought that was possible for him, but apparently, it was. The scouts around Bonesborough have tripled, their captains leading more and more raids, butting into shops to check everyone’s papers, and invading random districts.

Oddly, Belos’s priorities seem to have shifted. He’s still sending out grunts to round up any wild witches, but the guards have been playing a weird sort of hide-and-seek, going beyond just patrolling the marketplaces to actually tearing into people’s homes. From what she’s heard, the guards never take anything, just searching the place top-to-bottom before leaving empty-handed and moving on to the next house.

Belos was looking for something.

And unfortunately, Eda’s got a pretty good idea of what he’s after.

Said thing just so happens to be slumped across from her at the kitchen table, dead to the world. It’s late into the night, and most of the kids have already gone to sleep. Too on edge to lie down, Eda’s been keeping herself busy by concocting more potions while the late-night news plays on her crystal ball in the background.

Hunter, striving to be helpful, volunteered to stay up and help.

It wasn’t long before the kid slowly started to nod off, face supported by his palm as his eyelids started to droop. He’d been in the middle of mixing two ingredients—highly flammable ingredients, mind you—and Eda plucked the vials out of his lax grip just in time. Honestly, it was a miracle the kid never killed himself in the Emperor’s Coven with how randomly he falls asleep.

He probably never got the chance to sleep at all, a voice reminds her. She remembers how dead-exhausted Lily was during her first few days at the Owl House. It was probably safe to assume that the Emperor had a habit of running the head of his Coven into the ground.

Hunter has been picking up on Belos’s tightening grip, too. He’s been getting quieter, more reserved. He’s come to the same conclusion that Eda has: the Emperor was tearing apart the whole of the Isles to get him back.

Why, though, is anyone’s guess. Hunter has long since explained that his uncle always said that the Titan had big plans for him, and it probably has something to do with the Day of Unity, but beyond that, the Emperor had always kept him in the dark. Luz has a crazy theory involving clones and blood magic, but that sounds like it’s a plot point straight out of one of her Azura books. King thinks Belos wants his artificial staff back, and Hooty predicts the Emperor is just sad because all his Coven leaders are leaving him to join Hooty’s superior best friends club.

Whatever the reason, Eda’s made it pretty clear that she’s not gonna bend to Belos’s intimidation tactics and turn him over. That smarmy gold jerk could set the whole Isles on fire and Eda still wouldn’t hand him over. Hunter’s part of the Bad Girl’s Coven now, and Belos can just suck it. And she’s not afraid to say that to his stupid face, either.

So when the cauldron at the end of the table that holds the scrying potion suddenly begins bubbling on its own, Eda may very well get her chance.

She’s up on her feet in an instant, dashing to the other end of the table just as the steam rising off the potion begins to warp into a familiar figure.

“Edalyn,” Belos greets, his voice sharp like a dagger. “I do hope I’m not interrupting your evening, but I needed a word with you.”

Ugh, scrying potions weren’t supposed to work both ways! Belos was too damn powerful. He could probably peer into their lives as much as they could peer into his.

“Sorry, but now’s a bad time,” Eda shoots back. “Why don’t you hang up and call back literally never?”

“It’s come to my attention that you have something of mine,” the masked man continues smoothly as if she hadn’t spoken. “I’d ever so appreciate it if you gave it back.”

Eda’s lip curls back, feeling the itch of feathers poking out of her joints. She wants to shift into her harpy form and leap through the potion to claw out his eyes. “Sorry, Belos,” she says, dripping smug bravado, “We wild witches operate solely under the laws of finders keepers. Your kid? Mine now.”

Eda expects that the Emperor would very much like to vaporize her. “Make your threats wisely, Owl Lady. You have no idea what you’re up against. Everything will be easier for you and your little friends if you just hand the boy back over to me.”

“Fat chance.” Eda throws back her shoulders and shoots him a sharp grin. “Sounds to me like you’re threatening one of my kids, and we weirdos stick together. Going after one of us is basically asking for all of us to bring you down. Remember how well that went last time? How my human cracked your mask and publicly humiliated you during your big let’s-turn-Eda-to-stone ceremony?”

The Emperor looks as though he has some choice words to say, but Eda doesn’t care. Hunter is her kid now. She glowers at him through that mist, voice lowering in with deadly promise. “You’ll have to drag him back to your Coven over my dead body.”

“That can be arranged,” sneers Belos.

“Try me, antler boy.” Then Eda whacks the cauldron and sends it tipping over the edge of the table. The connection is immediately severed as the potion goes splattering over the hardwood, and the resounding CLANG of the bowl makes Hunter shoot violently out of sleep.

“Huh?! Whassit—Eda? What happened? Are you alright?”

“Fine, kid,” she says, swallowing down the rage that’s still bubbling hot in her throat. “’S alright, just got a little clumsy and knocked over a cauldron. Sorry for waking you.”

“Sorry for falling asleep,” Hunter responds. He grabs a towel and hurries to clean up the oozing purple goo.

Eda waves him off, “Eh, I don’t mind. You kids need your rest. Growing bodies and all that.”

Hunter still hesitates, looking at her for a beat too long as if double-checking to make sure she wasn’t really upset. Eda holds back a sigh, a twinge of pity flickering through her that he’d even have to look at her like that in the first place. All the damage from Belos couldn’t be wrapped up in a month, she supposed.

She snatches up the cauldron, still dripping with the ruined potion. Peachy. She’ll have to call Lilith to get her scrying potion recipe. Though maybe not having this in the house was a good idea. Eda doesn’t want to risk His Royal Highness dropping in on any more unexpected house calls.

“Eda?”

She looks up at Hunter. The kid chewing on his bottom lip, wringing the half-soiled towel between scarred hands.

“I just…I wanted to say thank you,” Hunter says shyly. “I know having me here hasn’t exactly been easy—not only because of the fugitive thing, but because I’m…” He flounders for a moment, and Eda can only pretend to know what’s going through his mind right now. “…me,” he finishes finally. “You’ve been so kind and patient with me, it’s so much more than I deserve, and no matter what happens next—”

“Hey, no.” Eda cuts him off with a swift and gentle beratement. She sets the cauldron on the table and crowds closer to him, curling one hand around his cheek. The kid automatically leans into the touch, and Eda can’t help but wonder how Belos could have ever hurt a child who was as sweet as this one.

“You may be one bratty little shit, but you’re my bratty little shit. And Mama says you deserve all the smothering that comes with being a child of the Owl Lady.”

Then, to prove her point, she swoops down and quickly places feather-light kisses on the tip of his nose, forehead, and his scar, until Hunter squawks and shoves her away. He’s practically glowing, flushed all the way to the tips of his ears.

“Gross,” he snaps, rubbing furiously at his face. “I’m never helping you with your potions ever again.”

“I’ll accept your terms. Now get upstairs, it’s way past your bedtime.”

“I don’t have a bedtime, I’m not a baby.” Hunter sticks out his tongue but obeys, slipping out of the kitchen and disappearing into the rest of the house. Eda shakes her head as she watches him go.

Kids. What could ya do with ‘em?

#the owl house #owl house fic #toh #fic rec #toh hunter #eda clawthorne #eda the owl mom #golden guard #luz noceda #fic #my fic #5+1 times #5+1 fic #found family #allll the family feels #eda adopts hunter sorry i dont make the rules #toh king #ao3 #sleep deprived hunter #bb needs a nap BAD so i wrote this to cope #emperor belos

[and-knowing-is-half-the-battle]

Got a good response! How about chapter 2?

Winterrogation, Chapter 2: The deal

Chapter 1 found here

Summary: The Winter Soldier is interrogating you for the second time with his unusual methods. 

Pairing: Winter soldier x fem!reader

Work Count: 1.7K

Warnings: dubcon, biting, bondage, smut, rough sex, minors DNI, vibrator, overstimulation, oral (m rec), penetrative sex, use of nicknames (sweetheart, good girl), creampie. 

A/N: Do not copy, translate, repost or rewrite my work, even if you credit me. I do not give my permission for my works to be copied or shared on other sites.

Picture source: bucky-daddy

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Two men led you down a set of stairs, each holding an upper arm and wrist. You did your best to remain calm, taking in your surroundings to distract yourself. It seems Hydra had taken up residence in an old home or mansion, with lots of wood panelling and antique furniture. You knew where you were headed, his words ringing clear in your mind, “I’ll be interrogating her again tomorrow.” You weren’t sure how to regard him since yesterday. A mixture of desire, fear, humiliation, and shame churned in your belly. 

They had given you what you assumed to be standard issue Hydra clothing, a tight black long sleeved shirt and black cargo pants. They had given you nothing for your feet, leaving you feeling particularly vulnerable as you resisted slightly, skittering down the basement hallway. After all the handsome wood interior, the three large rudimentary metal crossbars on the door were jarring in comparison. Two armed guards took them down, unlocked the door, and opened it as you approached. 

Your mouth went dry as they shoved you inside, and you heard them reverse their actions, locking you inside. The room was sparsely furnished: a trunk full of clothing, a desk with a few books and some papers that looked like floorplans strewn on it, and a large metal four-poster bed. And the winter soldier was sitting on it. 

He stood up, practically towering over you, and approached in his intentional and menacing way. You instinctively backed up as he descended on you, surprising you by catching you in a bruising kiss, pinning you against the door. It was a rough kiss, his tongue pushing its way coarsely into your mouth, and once again you tasted the sweet mint on his breath. 

He pulled back and suddenly swung you effortlessly onto his massive shoulder, taking the few steps to the bed and tossing you down. You scrambled back, knocking the singular pillow to the ground. 

“I s-swear. I was telling the truth yesterday! I d-don’t know anything else! Please!” You squeaked, holding your hands out defensively. 

“I know, sweetheart,” he chuckled unkindly, pulling his shirt off over his head, exposing his broad chest littered with bruises, cuts, and scars of varying ages. You swallowed thickly, trying not to stare at his corded muscles. “You said you would be my toy,” He reminded you, “so I thought we might play a game,” 

He reached forward and pulled your ankles toward him, unbuttoning your fly and tugging your pants off. You were frozen in place, feeling your heart pounding in your chest as he leaned over you, making true eye contact. The darkness in his eyes was terrifying, yet magnetic. 

“Each time you cum, you have to stay one more day,” he proposed with his gravelly voice, undoing his own pants and letting them drop, revealing black boxers. He moved forward, his thick thigh slotting between your trembling legs. 

You shook your head, moving backward again as he pursued, grabbing your thigh firmly with his metal hand and pulling your shirt off in one swift motion with the other. While he turned to throw it to the side, you took advantage of his distraction and slipped out of his grip, scrambling to the floor and making it a foot or two before his fist gripped your hair in warning. You stilled, panting, and stood as he raised his hand to your height. 

“While I enjoy the chase, sweetheart, I don’t know where you think you’re going,” he smirked, tossing you back on the bed. “Now be a good girl and do what I say. Starting with taking care of those,” he gestured to your bra and underwear. 

You knew better than to defy the Winter Soldier, so, looking away in embarrassment, you complied, feeling his burning gaze watch you. He slid toward you again, leaning down over the bed to bring up a large metal shackle on the end of a chain, which you now realized were attached to the bottom of each bedpost. He held his large hand out expectantly, looking at you under his heavy brow, daring you to challenge him. You placed your comparatively small arm in his hand, and he wound cloth around it several times before securing the shackle over the top. Against your better instincts, you felt electrified by the touch of his skin on yours. 

“What a good, pretty, little thing you are,” he taunted, repeating the same with the other arm and each leg. There was quite a bit of wiggle room between each point of restraint until he reached down and secured a thick velcro strap against your belly. “Much better,” he hummed, lying alongside you, “now we can play,” 

He started with the same trick, a vibrator tucked inside you on low. It lit up your nerves, making you sensitive to any touch. He grabbed at your breasts with his flesh hand, biting into your neck. You cried out, your wrists pulling at the slack of the chain. He gripped your jaw, turning your face to him to kiss you again as you felt his bulge growing on the side of your thigh. He brought his hand down to turn the vibrator up, accidentally brushing against your leg with a light touch, causing you to shiver. A glint of understanding caught his eye and you knew that you were done for. 

He ran a single finger along the column of your neck, lightly teasing your skin before trailing down to circle your nipple. You groaned, trying to shift away from him uselessly. 

“So that’s it,” he teased, nipping at your ear. You had never been so close to him before. His smell was woody and masculine, adding to the wetness growing between your legs - which his super soldier senses picked up right away. He breathed deeply, your cheeks heating in response, then licked lightly along your neck. It didn’t take long for you to be a quivering mess. When you were practically dripping, he rid himself of his boxers and positioned his cock by your mouth. 

“Get it nice and wet,” he groaned when you licked at his tip, once again losing the battle against your wits. You pulled him into your mouth, wetting as much of his length as you could, twirling your tongue around his shaft. He then unstrapped the velcro and knelt toward the end of the bed, pulling your hips toward him, making your arms taut, but allowing your legs to bend toward your chest despite the chains, your pussy on display for him. He pulled the vibrator out and stuffed his cock inside you, his hands supporting each thigh as he fucked you roughly. 

You forgot everything but the giant cock inside you. You forgot your name. And when he reached down to play with your clit, you keened within seconds and bucked while he continued to fuck you through your high. When you came back down, he leaned over you, caging you between his large arms, his long hair swinging around his face. 

“One,” he grunted, pistoning into you without mercy. You were finally stripped away enough to admit to yourself that being helpless beneath him was all you wanted. That losing all control was making you come undone. He changed his angle slightly, hitting your g spot with every thrust, and reached between you to circle your clit again with his flesh fingers. Your realization mixed with this sensation sent you tumbling over the edge again, clenching against him. He groaned, his own climax being pulled out of him by the force of your pussy. He stayed hovering over you for a moment while you both panted. 

“Two,” he breathed heavily onto your sweat slicked neck, laying beside you again. He didn’t give you much time before his metal thumb ghosted over your nipple, his heavy arm laid across you preventing much movement. You twitched against him, gasping as your heart rate skyrocketed when he didn’t relent. It could have been five minutes, it could’ve been an hour. All you knew was that your nerves were stretched to their breaking point when he finally reached down and stroked your tender clit again. You struggled to get away, feeling overstimulated, when he caught you by surprise by leaning up and licking your nipple slowly. 

You sobbed as you unconsciously rutted against his hand, wanting him to stop and wanting him to never stop. When you finally came, squirting audibly against his hand, your spent muscles strained against him and the shackles. 

As your vision returned to you, you caught him licking you off his palm with a moan. He obviously got off on being in control as much as you did being under his control. 

“Three,” he said as he got up, pulling his clothes back on. He walked to the door, knocking three times, and the guards on the other side began the process of opening the door. Two of them entered, approaching you to undo your bonds as he gave them orders. “Take her to The Artist. I want her marked. And keep her for the three days I am gone,” 

He leaned against the wall as you were allowed to dress, except for your shirt, which a guard held instead. His dark blue eyes watched your feet as you were lead out much in the same way you were lead in, which you were grateful for considering the trembling state of your legs. As they took you down a series of hallways, you felt you understood something. Of course he liked control - the locked door, the armed guards, the shackles too big for you on the bed - was he a prisoner, too?

They brought you to a room where an older man waited with a tattoo gun. 

“The Winter Soldier wants her marked,” one guard said, as they pushed you roughly into a chair, holding your left arm and shoulder still. 

“Very well,” he said, wetting his finger with his tongue to flip the pages of his book. When he found what he wanted, he brought his chair closer, holding the book in his lap open to the page with a red star overlapped by jagged black lines.    

Chapter 3

#tw smut #tw sex #winter soldier x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #winter soldier x y/n #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #winter soldier smut