#I know I finished it ten months ago but it just hit me today

[yagami-raito-kun]

I've been trying to figure out why I'm in a weird mood today, and it just hit me: the last time I wasn't either writing or planning out something for the Noelverse on Christmas was Christmas 2013.

Huh.

[verstappen-cult]

STUPID CUPID, M. VERSTAPPEN

CHAPTER 01: OF ALCOHOL AND BAD DECISIONS

✶ SUMMARY. Making decisions when you’ve had too much to drink is the worst thing someone can do, but it’s exactly what Lando does. He has 100€, a plan and a friend in need of a new camera. What could possibly go wrong?

content warnings ✶ disclaimers. fem!reader. oscar being an overprotective brother. alcohol consumption. i don’t specify what they’re studying, just that they’re in the same university & some of them share classes. use of Y/N. attempted humor. attempted banter. a little bit of landoscar.

NEXT PART | SERIES MASTERLIST.

“Remember to keep your things close to you at all times. Do you still have the pepper spray I gave you last summer?” Your brother talks as he walks by your side. He woke you up this morning to have a last walk around campus, so you won’t get lost Monday morning on your first day. He doesn’t wait for you to answer before adding, “I’m always gonna be around but you need to—”

“Oscar,” You place a hand on his shoulder to make him stop. “I’m ten minutes younger than you, and I’ve been traveling around Europe alone for the last four months. I think I can handle myself.”

“I just want you to be careful.”

“If I survived High School, I think I can survive anything.” 

He smiles and wraps an arm around your shoulders to resume walking. “I can’t believe you finally decided to join me here. This past year has been awful without you.”

“You’re exaggerating.” You chuckle, wrapping your own arm around his waist. “I just needed some time away to clear my head,” You shrug, a hesitant smile gracing your lips. There’s so much inside your head, so much you want to say to him, but you’re not brave enough to say it out loud. You’ve never been. “And I know our parents wanted us to go to the same university since, like, forever. I couldn’t disappoint them.” Not again.

You’re passing outside the Ice Rink when you run into one of Oscar’s friends.

“Hey!” One guy, whose name you can’t remember, approaches you both. He’s wearing his hockey uniform, sport bag hanging over his shoulder and a hockey stick in his left hand. “We missed you at practice today, mate. Hey, Y/N.” 

His smile is so contagious, you feel bad for not remembering his name. You turn to look at your brother and just one exchange of glances is enough for him to understand. 

“Hey, Alex.” He pulls away from you to clasp a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “I just wanted to show my sister some places.”

“Oh yeah! You start on Monday, right?” You don’t even have time to open your mouth before he’s speaking again. “Are you nervous?” 

You bite the inside of your cheek and nod one time. “A little,” It’s the only thing you’ve been thinking about since you moved in with your brother a few days ago. There is so much you still need to do, the rest of your clothes aren’t even here yet, but you are more worried about finally starting your uni life than anything else. “but I prefer not to think about it.”

“I keep telling her she has nothing to worry about.” The smile on your brother’s face is the same one you saw six months ago before he left for his second year at University and you left for your trip, the ‘i’m so proud of you’ kind of smile. “She’s sharing classes with Charles, actually.”

“Oh, so you’re gonna be in good hands.” Alex says it with a laugh, that only earns him a hit on the head from your brother. “Anyway, we have that party tonight at Lando’s. Are you coming?” 

You don’t miss the way his cheeks heat up in a blush. “No, we can’t. Maybe another time.”

“You can,” You interrupt him. It is the second time he turns down an invitation just to stay with you. “I need to finish organizing the last of my stuff. Boring stuff. You should definitely go, it’s Saturday, Osc.” 

“Yeah but—”

“He’ll be there.” Alex tries to hide his laugh but doesn’t do a good job. 

“I’m pretty sure someone’s gonna be very happy.”

“Goodbye, Alex!” 

Oscar grabs your arm, giving you barely enough time to turn around and wave a goodbye to his friend before he drags you away.

“What was he talking about?” 

“Don’t know,” He simply answers, pulling his phone out of his pocket to check the time. “What do you say we grab some lunch?”

The party’s in full swing when Oscar walks through the door of his friend’s apartment. 

It is definitely a party organized by Lando; too many people in a cramped space, his DJ friend in a corner of the living room and everyone making out with everyone. Just the kind of party only Lando likes. 

Oscar makes his way into the kitchen, needing some liquid courage. 

“You came!” Alex shows up out of nowhere, he notices his friend is holding a beer in his left hand as he wraps his arm around his shoulders. Oscar doesn’t know how much he’s had to drink, but he smells too much like alcohol for his liking. 

Leaning against the kitchen counter, full of different kinds of alcohol and chips, is Charles and his girlfriend. 

“Hey,” Charles raises his own beer as a greeting. “Where’s your sister?”

“Don’t tell me you left her alone in your apartment.” Charles’ girlfriend frowns, throwing daggers at him. 

Oscar throws his hands up in surrender. “She didn’t want to come. I insisted but she still has things to organize.” 

“You should give her my number,” Alex, Charles’ girlfriend says with a smile, snuggling closer to his boyfriend. “I’m sure we’re gonna get along.” 

Oscar opens his mouth to actually ask for her number when the thunderous voice of none other than Lando Norris interrupts him.

“Oscar! You came!” Lando hugs him from behind, spilling some of his drink on the floor. But he doesn’t even notice, he’s more focused on finding his cheek to kiss. 

“Hey, Lando.” Oscar blushes. Blushes hard. He’s glad the dim lighting can hide how Lando makes him feel. “Good party.”

Lando smiles, sliding next to him and bumping shoulders. “Glad you like it.” Oscar finds himself returning the smile. 

“Please stop flirting in front of me or I’m gonna throw up in your faces.” Alex rolls his eyes and Lando hits him in the chest. 

Oscar finds it cute the way Lando’s cheeks heat up at the joke. He downs the last of his drink and Oscar has to fight the urge to wipe a drop of liquor from his bottom lip. 

He hasn’t even had a drink. What’s wrong with him?

He’s thankful when Charles hands him a beer, so he has something else to do rather than stand there like an idiot ogling at Lando and wondering what his lips would taste like. 

One minute they’re all hanging out in the kitchen, drinking and talking about the next hockey game — the boys threatening him if he misses another practice — and the next one he’s sitting on the couch with Lando glued to his side, one of his legs over his lap. 

Oscar looks down at his phone, his last text to you still without an answer. 

[00:25] Oscar: Are you okay? Do you need anything?

He sighs, typing a new message. 

[00:30] Oscar: I hope you’re just busy and nothing bad happened.

[00:31] Oscar: I’m going to buy pizza on my way back home.

“Oscar?”

He immediately looks up to find Lando looking at him with a pout. 

“Sorry, I needed to text my sister.” 

He reaches forward and boops Oscar on the nose with his index finger. “You worry too much. Isn’t she the same age as you?”

“Well, yeah.” Oscar feels a little silly now but doesn’t say anything. “But she doesn’t know anyone around here, so I don’t wanna leave her alone for so long.”

Lando flops his head onto Oscar’s shoulder and gazes up at him with his big, brown eyes. 

“You’re cute.”

Oscar can’t help himself. He lifts his hand and pushes an errant curl behind Lando’s ear, fingers lingering on his cheek. 

“You’re cute, too.” Oscar says, swallowing the lump in his throat. 

Lando’s eyes are wide as he stares at Oscar. 

Oscar breathes into the air and Lando’s expression softens as he moves closer, breaths mingling and faces flushed. They’re so close that Oscar can count the freckles on his face. 

The moment is interrupted by the ping of Oscar’s phone announcing a new message. 

Oscar pulls away, hands reaching for his phone beside him. 

[00:48] You: sorry was busy trying to fit all my clothes in your tiny closet 

[00:48] You: pizza sounds good! im starving

[00:49] You: hope you’re…

He doesn’t finish reading the third message, he just gets up after the second one, almost throwing Lando off the couch. 

“Wha—what happened?” Lando is confused, his pupils wide and a faint blush still on the top of his cheeks. 

“Sorry, I have to go. My sister needs me.”

“But we were about to,” The curly-haired boy tilts his head and raises his eyebrows, not really wanting to say the word ‘kiss’ out loud.

Oscar types a quick message, letting you know that he’s on his way, not even listening or looking at Lando. “See you Monday!”

Oscar is out of there in record time, leaving the party and a very confused and frustrated Lando behind. 

Lando groans, head hanging over the back of the couch, and hides behind his hands.

A laugh startles him, making him look through his fingers. “That was awful, mate.” His best friend’s leaning against the wall behind the couch, a glass of —he assumes— gin and tonic in his hands.

“Were you watching us?” Lando wants to dig a hole and crawl in. “You perv!”

“It’s not my fault you didn’t hear me the first time I announced myself. You were too busy trying to get laid.”

Lando groans again, “I barely know Oscar’s sister but I don’t like her.”

Max laughs, plopping down next to him. Lando takes the still very full glass out of his friend’s hand and downs all the liquid, wincing as he’s not used to the taste. 

“You should’ve run after him.”

He perks up, “Should I?”

“No, you idiot.” Max looks at him as if he’s grown a second head. “Are you that desperate to get laid?”

“It’s not that.” Lando pouts, turning his body to the right so he’s facing him. “I really like Oscar. Like I have a huge, fat crush on him since the first time I saw him at hockey practice a year ago.”

“And I’m sure he knows it.” Max says, sarcastically.

“We barely talk,” Lando really wants the earth to swallow him whole. “well, he barely talks. I don’t know if he’s just shy or doesn’t like me.” He sighs, looking at his friend, who is listening expectantly. “And when I finally decide to do something, his sister moves in with him. It’s great. Just great.” He throws his hands in the air, tired, frustrated. Sexually frustrated more than anything. 

“What a cockblock, uh?” 

“Exactly! You’re the only one that gets me, Maxie.” Lando throws himself at him, and Max has barely any time to grab him by the waist to stop him from falling face first onto his lap. “I wish I didn’t catch feelings so fast. Just—like you! Fucking my way around, no strings attached. How do you do it?” 

Max laughs, patting his friend on the back when he starts hiccuping. 

“You’re too soft for that.” 

“I’m not!” He pulls away, eyebrows furrowed. “I need to do something before I go mad. I really want Oscar to notice me.” 

“Oh, believe me, he notices you.” But Lando is deep in his thoughts, bottom lip between his teeth. Max can almost see the cogs working inside his head. 

“Does she not have a life? Friends?” Lando asks absentmindedly. 

“Well, you said she just moved in.” 

“So that’s what she needs.” 

“What?” Max can barely keep up. 

“A life!” Lando pulls out his wallet, and it takes him three failed attempts to pull out a 100€. He hands the money to Max without another word. 

Max looks at him, and then the money in his hands. “What am I supposed to do with this?” 

“I don’t know,” Lando shrugs. “just make sure she has a life.” 

“What?” 

“Money,” He takes his friend’s hand and places the money on his palm. “so you can take her out or something. I don’t care.” 

“Hold on a second.” Max sits up, hand brushing through his hair. “You want me to take her out?” 

“Yes! If you take her out, she has a life. Then, I can shoot my shot with Oscar without having to worry about his sister.” Lando looks like the cat that got the cream, eyes glistening and everything. 

“And why would I do that?” 

“Because you love me. And everyone wins.” 

“What do I win?” Max wants to laugh but the seriousness on his friend’s face stops him. 

“A pretty girl.” Lando simply answers. “And 100€.”

“How do you know she’s pretty?” 

Lando looks at him beneath his eyelashes, his lips in a pout. “Please do this for me.” 

Max thinks about it for a second. 

He really thinks about the whole plan. 

He would be helping a friend — his best friend. He would be hanging out with a pretty girl and, if everything goes well, he would be getting in that same pretty girl’s bed. 

And he needs a new camera. 

“Just one time? Or you want this to be a regular thing?” If he’s going to do this, he may as well make the most out of it. “Because if you want me to keep her busy, that means I’d have to take her out and that means more money.” 

“I can’t think anymore.” Lando throws his arm over his eyes, the music too loud for him to hear his own thoughts. “Let’s see how it goes first. Then, we talk about more money. Now just let me sleep, I’m gonna have the worst headache of my life tomorrow.” 

“Well, you got yourself a deal.”

The first two classes weren’t that bad. 

By the third one you felt a lot more comfortable. Even more so when you recognised one of your brother’s friends in the same class as you. 

Charles gave you some tips about certain professors and what you needed to expect in your first year. He’s in his second year now, so you listened very closely to everything he had to say. 

You’re one of the first ones to walk in the lecture hall, so you have enough time to find a seat and answer one of the dozen text messages from your parents asking about your day. 

And the other dozen from your brother. 

[15:23] Oscar: Want to have lunch together?

[15:28] Oscar: How’s your day going? Any news?

[15:35] Oscar: I just bumped into Charles. He says you’re doing good! 

[15:40] Oscar: I have hockey practice today. 

[15:42] Oscar: In case you want to come and walk home together. 

You sigh, a small smile gracing your lips.

[16:02] You: all good so far. i have a very weird professor lol 

[16:04] You: charles is such a nice guy, it made my classes so much easier and fun 

[16:07] You: i really want to see you playing hockey so i might go look 

[16:08] You: my last class is about to start so i’ll talk to you later. love you!

You’re hitting send when a presence startles you.

“Is this seat taken?” He asks, pointing to the seat right next to yours. 

You look around the lecture hall, still pretty much empty.

“Uhm, no?” You can count on the fingers of one hand how many people are attending the class. But he still chooses to sit next to you. 

The teacher comes in a few minutes later, a few more students after him, but even then the lecture hall feels empty. 

“Hey,” The stranger says, leaning in to whisper without drawing the teacher’s attention. 

You turn your head around, forcing yourself to move away when you realize how close he really is. “Yes?” You say, typing away on your computer as the professor gives the class the list of books needed for the semester.

“Do you have a pen I can borrow?” He has a sheepish smile. Only then you notice that he doesn’t carry a backpack, or books. He’s just there, in a class where he’s supposed to be taking notes, without anything.

You dig into your bag, pulling out a pen and a sheet of paper. 

His smile grows. “Oh, thank you!” 

“Are you sure you’re in the right class?” 

“Yes, why do you ask?” He turns his attention back to the professor, who’s saying something you should definitely be paying attention to, but you’re more focused on the boy sitting next to you. 

“No reason at all.”

You make it through the first hour without distractions. Well, apart from the tapping of the stranger next to you and his constant sighing and twisting on his seat. 

When the professor excuses himself to answer an important call, you know you have to say something. 

“Can you stop, please? You’re distracting me.”

“Oh,” He leans a little closer, “Am I?” 

You groan, asking yourself if staying in that seat is really worth it.

You don’t want to look at him, you really don’t. The first time you saw how big and blue his eyes were, you knew you wouldn’t be able to look at him again without getting lost in them. 

So, you simply nod while pretending to look for a folder in your computer. 

“I noticed the first time you kept typing the same line over and over again.”

Your blush starts at your neck and goes all the way up to your ears.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You’re doing it again,” His breath hits you on the cheek, too close for your liking. “You know you’ve been opening and closing the same folder for five minutes now, no?”

You hold your breath, trying to regulate your heartbeat. 

He doesn’t say anything else, choosing to focus on what the professor is trying to teach you. However, you know you won’t be paying much attention. 

You can still feel the warmth emanating from him, making you feel hot all over. His closeness is enough to put you on edge. 

Just when you think he won’t be bothering you again, he slides a piece of paper over to you.

You ignore it for about five seconds until you can’t anymore. 

You unfold it. 

‘Your hair is pretty’

It sends a thrill down your spine. The ghost of a smile crossing your face, something inside you making a funny little flip. 

You force yourself to look at him, only to find his gaze already on you. The blonde stranger tilts his head and observes you for a while, and when you don’t know what to do, and afraid of giving away how flustered you really are, you simply roll your eyes as an answer, immediately going back to paying attention, or pretending to. But the professor is nowhere to be seen and everyone is picking up their things to get out of there as fast as possible. 

Finally. 

You pack up your own things, slipping his note inside your notebook without him noticing, and stand up ready to run away. 

You only make it out of the lecture hall before he falls into step with you.

“Hey, you forgot this.” He shoves the pen into your face, almost making you trip over your own feet. 

“You can have it.” You walk a little faster, but it seems he doesn’t want to leave you alone. “Pretty sure you need it more than me.” It’s just a whisper, a comment for yourself more than for him. 

“Uh, feisty!” 

You stop, turn around and take a deep breath. Plastering a smile on your face, you say, “You are annoying.” And it seems that you amuse him, because he fights back a smile. A very pretty smile, you notice. “Goodbye.”

“I’m Max, by the way!”

“I don’t care!” You’re not proud, but he totally deserves the middle finger you give him.

He doesn’t need to know but you’re glad you can put a name to that handsome face.

You check your texts as you make your way to the ice rink and, as expected, a message from your brother awaits you. 

[17:45] Oscar: Something special you want for dinner today?

It’s cute how much he cares about you. Maybe too much sometimes, but you wouldn’t trade your twin and overprotective brother for anything in the world. Even if it means you have to put up with the hundreds of text messages and death glares directed at anybody who dares to even look at you.

“Texting a boyfriend?”

You look at Max from the corner of your eyes; he’s still walking a few feet behind. “Are you following me?”

He laughs. “Why would I be following you?”

“You’re weird.” 

“I’ve been called worse.”

How can someone be so attractive and annoying at the same time? 

Unfortunately, he’s headed the same way. 

“Are you on the hockey team?” If you slow down to wait for him, well, who can blame you?

He cocks his head and the edge of his mouth quirks up in a smirk. “Why? Are you into hockey players?”

“You can’t have a normal conversation, can you?”

Max laughs, opening the front doors and moving to the side to let you in first. 

“Yes, I’m on the hockey team.” Max chuckles, “Are you on the hockey team?”

“My brother,” You answer him, and Max raises his eyebrows. “His name’s Oscar. Do you know him?”

“Are you asking me if I know my own teammate?”

Your cheeks heat up in embarrassment. You’ve never felt so stupid talking to someone before, but that’s exactly how this guy makes you feel. Have you forgotten how to talk or he just loves being an idiot and getting under your skin? 

“Max!” 

Both of you turn around to find a curly-haired boy waving in your direction.

You recognize the bright, brown eyes of Lando Norris immediately. 

“Hey, Y/N!” He says when you approach him, putting his arm around your shoulder. “I see you’ve met Max.”

You nod, “Yes. He’s in one of my classes.” Max winks at you. He has the audacity to wink. “Are you on the hockey team too?”

“Oh nah, that’s not for me. Max is actually my roommate.” Lando explains as Max leans against the side of the bleachers beside you. “I’m here as his moral support.”

Max laughs. A full belly-laugh. 

Your head snaps at him so fast, you nearly give yourself whiplash. 

“Anyway,” Lando’s eyes widen, like silently saying something to his friend, before turning to look back at you. “Are you here to see your brother?”

“Yes. I don’t know anything about hockey, though.”

“Don’t worry. I don’t either. I’m here to see the hot guys.” You laugh at how honest he is. “You got plans tonight?” Lando asks after a few minutes, getting comfortable on the bleachers beside you, seeing some of the players getting out of the changing rooms. 

“I don’t know if Oscar has something planned, but I don’t think so.” You fold your arms over your chest, feeling a little cold. “Why? Do you have something in mind?”

“I know this pub that serves the best Guinness in town.” He states, nudging you. “You and your brother should come.”

You shrug. It is a very appealing invitation after all, and after your first day of classes you definitely deserve it. “It sounds like a place I want to know.”

“Great!” Lando claps his hands together, then looks at his friend. “You should join us too, Max.”

Please say no, you think. 

Max shrugs. “Sounds good to me.”

Great. Just great.

“I’m gonna get ready before the coach starts screaming at me again.” Max interrupts, a lopsided grin on his face. “Pleasure to meet you, Piastri.” He bows, like one of those Lords in a period drama, tilting his head up a little and winking once again, making your heart stop for a second. 

He disappears before you have time to think about something witty to say. 

You look back at the ice rink, spotting your brother from a distance. He sees you almost immediately, and waves at you with enthusiasm. You wave back, a soft smile spreading across your features.

Well, you have an hour to come to terms with spending the afternoon with the most annoyingly attractive, blonde haired and blue eyed boy you’ve ever met. What’s the worst that could happen?

✶ TAGLIST — @14fa. @hiireadstuff. @lolzblues55. @maifics. @littlegrapejuice. @landoslutmeout. @nikfigueiredo. @nciolisa. @rafexoxo. ✶

GWEN RAMBLES — well, hello! thank you so much if you made it this far. i don’t know when the next chapter will be posted. i’m already working on it, but it may take me a few days. if you want to be added to this series taglist you can reply to this post, send me a dm or leave it in my ask box! as you know, comments & reblogs are greatly appreciated. i’ll see you in the next update!

do not repost, translate, plagiarise or claim any of my works as your own. | © verstappen-cult, 2024.

[kennarose1108]

My World (Negan Smith x Reader !DAUGHTER OF RICK!)

*SO I MADE THIS FOREVER AGO AND I WANTED TO FINISH IT AND UPLOAD IT... I HOPE Y'ALL ENJOY, PART 2 IS IN A LINK AT THE BOTTOM OF THIS STORY*

You had been with Negan and his group for the last ten months and you knew Negan wasn't the cleanest man on earth. You knew he was doing things... Horrific things to people but you try to turn a blind eye to it. Negan was the best thing that had happened to you since the apocalypse happened. You were alone up until Negan found you on the verge of starving to death.

And over the months your and Negan's relationship had blossomed into something unexpected. He was a lot older than you. You were twenty-six years old and Negan was forty-five... I mean hell he was older than your father would be... Your father...

You were in college when the apocalypse broke out and you prayed your family was okay. After a while, you finally made it back to your family's home to find it completely ransacked and everybody was missing. You went to the hospital where you heard your father was staying after his accident but you didn't even attempt to go inside as it was completely guarded by the dead.

But everything seemed to be okay now... You stayed out of Negan's business as much as you could but today was different. "I need you to go," Negan says. "Why? You have Simon and all your men why do you need me?" You ask while crossing your arms over your chest.

"We made a deal with these people but they're on the more dangerous side than most people we've dealt with. We need everybody." He explains and you sigh deeply. "I don't want to be involved with your 'business deals' Negan. You know how I feel about it." You say with a shrug. "And I don't believe these people willingly made a deal with you either." You say while raising your eyebrows and he chuckles slightly. "Alright, you got me there." He says while standing up from his seat. "These people killed a whole outpost of men for their supplies so we gave them an option of... We raid their shit and we let them live." He shrugs. "No harm, no foul." He says while grabbing your waist and pulling you closer to him. "I just want everybody there in case shit hits the fan. We need to defend ourselves." Negan explains.

"Mhm... What's the actual reason you want me to go? Because we both know I'm only good at killing the dead ones... Not the live ones." You say while squinting your eyes at him. He stares at you for a moment before sighing deeply with a smirk. "You see right through me every time.." He chuckles. "...You're going to be here all by yourself. I don't want you to be alone if something happens here. At least I know if you came with me I can protect you." He says while leaning his forehead against yours.

You clenched your jaw and slightly glared at him before groaning out a 'fine'. He smiled and placed a kiss on your forehead. "Let's get going then."

When you made it out to the trucks Negan ordered you to stay inside of the car until the gates were open. When you made it to the place called Alexandria you sat in the truck with one of Negan's men. You weren't paying attention entirely until the man dropped a heavy gun in your lap. You had no idea how to use it so it was clear it was given to you for threatening purposes. "It's safe now." The man says. You nodded and took a step out of the truck, the man following your steps on the other side.

You were looking down at the ground as you took a few steps. You finally looked up and looked at the people around the gate. There was a woman who looked hardcore and angry and a man who looked confused and kinda wimpy... Then your eyes landed on another man. Your eyes widened as your brain processed what you were seeing, hoping it wasn't another hallucination that you saw so much when you were dehydrated.

But you weren't dehydrated and this wasn't a hallucination. Your lips parted as a soft gasp escaped your lips. The gun you were holding onto fell from your hands and that's when you finally got the man's attention. Your body shook as he gave you a look of confusion into a look of disbelief, the same look you gave him. Tears threatened to spill from your eyes as your body shook from the feeling of adrenalin and pure shock coursing through your veins.

Negan looked at you and then at him, confused about what was going on, and that's when you let out a shaky breath, "Dad?" You mumble. "Oh my god.." He whispered. You let out a shaky chuckle as tears finally fell from your eyes. "DAD!" You yelled as you ran full force towards him. Your arms swung open and wrapped around his neck as his arms slung tightly around your body. Your legs shook as you were barely able to keep yourself upright... If it wasn't for his tight grip on you, you would've fallen to the floor. You cried into his shoulder and held onto him tightly before pulling away. "I thought you were dead." You managed to choke out.

Negan stared at you both in disbelief and horror. He also felt stupid for not putting two and two together since you both had the same last name. "Is Carl...?" He nodded. "He's alive." You sigh in relief as a smile appears on your face. "And mom?" You ask. He just stares at you. Your smile slowly fades as you cover your mouth with your hand in disbelief. You let out a shaky 'oh' as you pulled away.

Your father's eyes flicked from you to Negan before looking back at you. "You're with him?" He asks. You nod your head as you wipe a tear that fell from your eyes. "How 'bout you go around Alexandria and look for your brother? Me and your dad have some things to discuss." Negan says while getting behind you and grabbing your shoulders and giving Rick a teasing smile. "Yeah... Yeah, that's a good idea." Rick says while glaring at Negan. You walked away from Negan's grip and you walked around the streets, getting the occasional glare from some of the people that live in Alexandria which made you frown.

But as you walked your eyes fell on a boy walking down the steps from his porch. You squinted your eyes and tried to make out the face of the person. It was hard to tell at first since he had a patch over his eye but you’d recognized that face anywhere.

You smiled and yelled out his name. He looked around for a moment before turning in your direction, his eyes falling onto yours. You smiled as his face turned from confusion to disbelief. With adrenaline coursing through your veins you ran towards him full force. He did the same and you both met in between and practically collapsed into each other. You both kept each other on your feet as you hugged each other tightly. After a minute you pulled away and cupped his face, tears going down both of your faces. “You’ve grown so much.” You chuckle. “I thought you were dead,” Carl says with a slight gasp. “Can’t get rid of me that easily little brother.” You say with a chuckle. You look at the patch on his eye and you slightly frown. “What happened?” You ask your thumb lightly brushing against the edge of it.

“I was shot,” Carl explains. Your eyes widen and you laugh. “You were shot in the face and you survived?! Holy shit I wish Dad informed me how much of a badass you were before I found you.” He chuckles. His eyes then glance to the ground and his smile disappears, he seems to be lost in thought. His eyes flicked back up to you and he sighed. “I have to show you something,” Carl says while backing off and walking back towards the house he came out of.

You follow him into the house and up the stairs. Carl stops in front of a door that was off to the side and he slowly opens it. Your eyes travel to the inside of the room until you see a little girl in a crib. You take a few steps inside and slightly gasp. “Who’s this?” You ask while walking towards her. “That’s Judith. Our sister.” Your head snapped towards him and your eyes widen. “Is that how mom…” He didn’t say anything which was an answer in itself. You nodded and looked back at the little girl. You chuckle and lifted her out of the crib and held her against your body. “Oh my… You are gorgeous.” You say while admiring her little face. But the moment was ruined by the sound of doors slamming open and people talking loudly downstairs. “Hide her.” Carl orders. You quickly put Judith down and left the room with Carl, shutting the door right on time as Simon came running up the steps.

He eyed you and Carl and you both kept your composure. “Everything good up here?” He asks. “Yes. Everything’s fine.” You say with a slight smile. He glanced at the door next to you both and gave you another weird look. “What’s in there?” Simon asks while nodding to the door. “Nothing. The room is empty. Carl was giving me a tour of his home and he offered to let me stay in this room when they get it furnished.” You say with a stern tone of voice.

“Hm... You should talk to Negan about that.” You wanted to argue back and say you were a grown woman and didn’t need his permission but you decided it would be best to keep your mouth shut in this situation. “Come on Carl. Let’s go downstairs.” You say while putting your arm around Carl’s shoulders and pulling him forward, not keeping your eyes off Simon until you went past him. When you made it downstairs Carl was staring in horror at the people in his home taking pretty much everything. “They’re taking all of our medicine,” Carl says. “We hid them here because they said they’d only take half,” Carl says while pulling away from you. “Carl-“ “No!” Carl yelled while grabbing a gun and going after them. “Carl DON’T-!” But it was too late.

A gunshot rang through the air causing you to jump. You quickly ran into the room and luckily everyone was okay, but Carl had a gun to one of Negan’s men. “Put them back, or the next one goes in you.” Carl threatens. “Kid… What do you think happens next?” The man laughed. “Carl.” You managed to get yourself in between the gun and the man and you were trying to calm him down. “Get out of the way.” “Carl don’t.” You warned. “Move.” “If you don’t put the gun down the punishment will be-“ You stopped yourself as you saw your dad running into the room, you knew Negan wasn’t too far behind so you kept your mouth shut.

Your father tried talking the same sense to Carl as Negan walked in. His eyes darted between the gun and you and he knew he had to intervene. Negan walked over to you both and stood next to you and got into Carl's line of sight. Negan chuckles. "Really kid?" He says with a smirk.

"You should go... Before you find out how dangerous we all are." Carl warns. You swallowed the lump in your throat and gave him a pleading look. "Well pardon me, young man, excuse the shit out of my goddamn French but... Did you just threaten me?" Negan asks. "Look I get threatening Davie here... But I can't have it, not him, not me-" "Carl just put it down-" "Don't be rude Rick we are having a conversation here." Your father and Negan argue back and forth. You continue to stare at Carl with pleading eyes as you knew if Carl pushed his limits or broke a rule no amount of begging would stop Negan... Not even for you. "Now boy... Where were we?" He asks.

"Oh yeah! Your giant man-sized balls. No threatening us. Listen I like you... I don't want to go hard proving a point here, especially in front of the lady here, and you don't want that. I said half your shit and half is what I say it is." Negan says in more of a more serious tone of voice. "I'm serious. Do you want me to prove how serious... Again?" Negan warns.

Carl stares at him then looks at you. You shook your head slightly and he sighed deeply. He moved his hand so the handle of the gun was facing you. Your trembling hands slowly grabbed the gun from his hands and held it to your side.

Negan turned to your father and started ranting to him and you grabbed Carl's shoulders. "What the hell is wrong with you?" You whisper to him. "They were taking our stuff," Carl argued. "You can always get that shit back! He'll kill you or someone else here and you can't get back." You hissed at him. "And you.." Negan turned to you both. You turned your head to him and saw him staring at you. He lifted his hand and wiggled his pointer and middle finger towards you telling you to give him the gun. You handed him the gun and he put it in his pocket.

"Rick go and get that stuff together for me will ya? And you... Come with me." He says while not moving his gaze from yours. You nodded and followed him out of the home. You followed him down the street and in between some houses. He then suddenly spun around and grabbed your arms softly. "I don't want you doing that shit again," Negan says sternly. "I knew he wasn't going to shoot me." You argued. Negan shook his head and sighed deeply. "I do not care. There is no damn reason for you to EVER stand in front of a gun. Ever." He says with a shake of his head. "Scared the hell out of me." He says while placing a kiss on your temple.

"I'm sorry.." You say with a frown. "Don't be sorry. I know you were trying to de-escalate the situation and I respect that... I just don't want you to get hurt." He says while cupping your face with his hands. "He's my brother. He wouldn't have hurt me." "I can't take that chance." He shakes his head. "I don't care if there's a 99% chance or a 0.01% chance. It's not an option." He says. “Understand?” He asks. You nodded and he smiled.

He kissed you on the cheek and pulled you in for a hug. You both stayed like that for a moment before Negan pulled away, giving you a tight squeeze before letting you move away from him. “Let’s go darlin’,” Negan says while lightly placing his hand on your lower back and leading you along.

You walked with Negan until you met up with your father and some of Negan’s men in front of a small bunker. The door to the bunker slowly opens to show a woman. “I… Figured you were coming.” She says nervously. “Show him where the guns are, Olivia.” Your father says. She nodded and you all walked inside. “You run the show in here?” Negan asks. “I just keep track of it all, the rations, the guns,” She explains. “Good. Smart. Don’t let me stop you. Arat, boys... Show ‘em the goods.” He smirks as everyone walks off. “Wait, wait, wait.” Negan stops your father.

“While they’re at it, I just want to point out to you that I’m not taking a scrap of your food. Slim pickin’s in here.” Negan says while pointing out the little to no food on the shelves. “And I can’t be the only one to notice that you got a fuckin’ fat lady in charge of keeping track of rations can I?” Negan says and you turn to him, “Negan.” You smack his arm and he puts his hands up. “Am I wrong?” He asks. “Yes. Don’t be an asshole.” You roll your eyes. He chuckles and slightly leans into Rick, “She keeps me on my toes.” Rick glares at him and he slightly leans back.

Negan looks at Rick, then at you, then at Rick again. “Y’know I just realized… We’re family now aren’t we?” You closed your eyes and cringed. “I mean… Should I call you dad or something?” Negan asks while slowly dragging his arm over your shoulder and pulling you close to his side.

Rick’s eyes flicked over to you and you swallowed another ball in your throat and you let out a deep sigh. “Right?” Negan asks. “Stop.” You whisper to him while giving him a pleading look. He wanted to keep going just to poke the bear some more but he didn’t want to continue if you were uncomfortable. He cared more for your feelings than his ego. “…Either way, you starve to death, I don’t get shit, so for now, you get to keep all the food. How ‘bout that?” Negan says, still keeping his arm around your shoulders.

Negan and Rick stare at each other for a few moments. A very awkward few moments. “What do you want me to say?” “I don’t know, Rick. How about a thank you.” Negan says while moving away from you and getting into your father’s face. “You think that might be in order? Or is that too much to ask?!” Negan yells. “Jesus stop!” You grab Negan’s arm and push him away from your father.

“Haven’t you done enough?” “All I’m asking for is a thank you.” You scoff. “I think we both know they have nothing to be thanking you for.” You shake your head at him before walking out of the bunker and down the streets of Alexandria. You stopped in front of Rick and Carl’s home and you sat on the steps, rethinking everything.

You placed your elbow on your knee and rested your forehead in your hand. You sat like that for a while before a familiar figure walked into your view. They stood there for a moment before slowly sitting next to you on the steps. “You angry with me?” He asks. You sigh and close your eyes. “What do you think?” You say with an annoyed tone of voice. “Why?” You turn to glare at him. “Why? Are you kidding me?” You say. “Is it because of Rick?” Negan asks. “Jesus no!” You yell. “…Well it doesn’t help.” You say while looking forward. “You know I don’t like being a part of this shit. I don’t like seeing this side of you... Especially since I know you did something bad to these people.” You say with your voice slightly cracking as tears filled in your eyes. You shake your head, not wanting to ask this question but you feel you have no choice.

“What did you do? I’m going to hear it from somebody so it might as well be from you.” He stares at you, he didn’t want you to find out. “I killed two of their people in front of them. One of them had a wife and she was sick. She witnessed it all… She didn’t make it.” Your mouth flew agape and your body tensed.

“Oh my god… And you expect a ‘thank you’ from these people!?” You stand on your feet and glare at him. “You say people are a resource and need to be protected but it’s all a lie!” You shout. “It’s not a lie.” He stands up to meet your level but instead, he just towers over you, making you feel inferior to him.

“People are a resource and need to be protected but rules need to be set and if they are broken there are punishments.” He argues. “And killing people in the answer?” You scoff. “You’re torturing these poor people and for what? Surviving?” “Killing off my men. That’s what.” He hisses while stepping forward and getting in your face. “Not like your men didn’t deserve it anyways. Most of them are criminals, rapists, or killers. But I guess the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree does it?” You say while slowly looking at him up and down. Negan was seething, nobody spoke to him like this and he was getting pissed. “Watch your mouth.” “Or what? You’ll kill me?” You chuckled. “You don’t got the balls.” You hissed. It took all his might to not snap and lash out at you but he realized that it wouldn’t fix anything and you had every right to be angry.

But that doesn’t mean he won’t be any less angry with your words. “I have done everything for you. I have fought for you, I have killed for you, I put food in your belly and a roof over your head. I deserve goddamn respect.” He said in a low and threatening tone of voice. You shake your head. “I never asked you to save me.” You say, tears threatening to fall from your eyes.

“What did you expect me to do? Leave you there to die?” “You should’ve. It would’ve been easier for the both of us.” You snapped back. Negan leans back and stares at you in disbelief.

You didn’t mean what you said, you were thankful Negan saved your life. You remember the day he found you. You were in a gas station and you had been sitting there for about a day or two just waiting to die. Your face was pale and you were practically skin and bones. You were sitting in the backroom in the dark when you heard a roar of an engine and footsteps entering the building. You didn’t have the energy to get up and find them and your throat was too dry to call out for help, so you sat there until the door opened and the light of a flashlight crawled up your body and landed on your face. You cringed and looked away from the light. The person who was shining a light called a name and another pair of footsteps entered the room. That was when the person shining the light lowered it and you made eye contact with the man who walked in the room. “Holy shit... Are you alive?” He chuckled, getting closer to you.

His smile disappeared when he saw how sick you looked. He walked over to you and knelt at your level. “I’m Negan.” He says. You gave him a slightly confused look and Negan sighs. “Simon. Go get some water.” He orders while still staring down at you.

Simon quickly came back into the room with a water bottle and handed him the bottle. He opened it and he snaked his hand behind your neck and lifted you. You slightly groan as he pulls your head forward in front of the bottle. Your lips touched the bottle and slowly gulped down the water. If you weren’t so dehydrated there was a good chance you would’ve cried.

When you needed a break you moved your head back and leaned back against the wall. “Y/N.” You mumbled. “What?” Negan asks as you barely let out a whisper. “…My name is Y/N Grimes.” You say while shifting around. “How long have you been here?” Negan asks. “A couple of days…” You say before letting out a hoarse cough. Negan lifts the bottle back to your lips and you take a few more gulps. “Is there anyone else around here?” He asks. You shake your head, “No. I’ve been alone since the beginning of the apocalypse.” You explain. His eyes widen and he scoffs with a smirk. “No shit? Wow. Good for you for lasting so long.” He says with a wide smile.

“Yeah… It gets lonely though.” You say while lifting the corner of your lips to smile slightly. Negan stared at you for another minute before mumbling an ‘alright’ and closing the water bottle and handing it back to Simon. He stands up slightly and begins to put his hands under your knees and behind your back. “What… What are you doing?” You ask. “I’m going to take you back to my camp. We have a doctor and food and water..” He explains. “…Why? You don’t know me.” You ask. “People are a resource. They need to be protected… And you won't survive much longer if I leave you here.” He explains. You nodded and he continued to pick you up.

You groaned as your body ached. Your muscles were so tense from sitting there for so long that just a slight movement caused your whole body to ache in pain. “We’ll get you patched up... It’ll be okay.”

And here you are… Many months later arguing with the man who saved your life. He stared down at you and he clenched his jaw. You could see on his face he wasn’t angry anymore, he was hurt. You didn’t expect it to hurt him in all honesty because Negan has been told a lot worse than what you said. But it did hurt him... And he didn’t know what to do about it. He sighed and looked around for a moment. “Head over to the truck.. We’re going to be leaving in a few minutes.” Was the only thing he managed to get out. Without looking at you he walks down the steps of the porch and down the street.

You stifled a sob and wiped the tears that had fallen down your face. After you pulled yourself together you walked over to the truck and saw David in the face of a young girl. “Say please again, little girl.” He chuckles. The girl lets out a ‘please’ and he smirks. “Yeah. One more time.” He says while running his finger down her cheek.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” You yell out as you storm over to him. His head shoots towards you and you shove him away from the girl. “Who do you think you are?” David asks as he gets in your face. “Someone who will gladly put some fucker out of their misery.” You snapped back. “Now piss off.” You hissed. He glared at you and tried to walk away but you stopped him. You put our hand out, telling him to give you the item the girl wanted. He grumbled something under his breath and shoved the item in your hand. David walked away and you turned to the girl. “I’m sorry that happened…” You whisper as you handed her back the balloons. You squeezed her shoulder before walking off and following the truck.

“Get in the truck Y/N. Me and daddy dearest here gotta talk.” Negan says without looking at you. You glared at him and you were about to oblige his orders and get in the truck but you stopped yourself. You turned on your heel and walked over to your father and swung your arms over his shoulders. You both hugged each other tightly before Carl found his way under your arm and hugged you and your father as well.

When you finally pulled away you rested one hand on your father’s shoulder and the other on the side of Carl’s face. You gave them a soft smile as tears filled in all of your eyes. “I’ll be back. I promise.” You say in a low tone of voice as you run your thumb over Carl’s cheek to wipe away the tear that fell from his eye.

You give them another small smile before turning and walking away. Negan watched you closely as you walked past him, wiping your tears in the process. You sat in the van and stared down at the ground, trying not to cry anymore in the process. During the minutes of you sitting there, you looked over and saw Negan taunting your father. You balled your fists up and sighed in annoyance. You wanted to get out of the car and yell at Negan but you didn’t have the energy. You heard Negan chuckle as finally peeled himself away from your father and he got in the van next to you, Lucille in his hands. You looked down at your hands and furrowed your eyebrows. You didn’t want to even look at Negan... But you knew he was looking at you.

He made occasional glances at you in an obvious manner. He wanted your attention and in all honesty, he wanted you to feel slightly bad for what you said to him. But you never looked at him. Not even when you made it to the sanctuary and walked past him to get inside.

You ignored everybody and headed to your shared bedroom. When you finally made it to the bedroom that’s when you realized that the sun was setting and you sighed in relief. You were exhausted and you wanted nothing more than to fall into your bed and sleep the day away. You sat on the edge of the bed and buried your face in your hands. You sat for a while until you heard your bedroom door opening and closing. You glance up and saw Negan leaning against the doorframe and staring at you.

You wipe the tears that had fallen from your eyes and look to the side. Negan stares at you for a few more seconds before sighing and lightly smiling to himself, clearly thinking of a memory.

“Y’know… I remember the first time I saw you.” He says. “You were so frail and sick looking.” He says while slowly walking towards you. “I was worried if I touched you, you would shatter like a piece of glass.” He continues walking towards you. You look up at up and look at him through your hair. “But I knew you were a fighter. And even if I had left you there you would’ve fought yourself back to survival.” He says while kneeling in front of you. “Who would’ve thought you would fight yourself into my heart.” He says with a soft smile and gently tucking your hair behind your ear.

You look down at him with tears in your eyes and a frown on your face. “There’s no way I could’ve left you there because..” He sighs before continuing. “I fell in love with you the first time I saw you.” He says while resting his hand against your cheek and wiping the tears that had fallen.

“Look… You and I are not easy people to deal with. And together it’s even more difficult... But I wouldn’t change a thing.” He says while shaking his head, a soft smile on his lips. A small cry came out of my mouth and I close my eyes, "I-I didn't mean what I said... I didn't... I'm glad you found me I...* You say, your words stuttering a bit. "I know... I know baby..." Negan whispered while moving his hand up to wipe the tears off your cheeks.

"I just... I hate seeing this side of you, and knowing you're doing this to my family..." You say before taking a deep and shaky breath. "It hurts..." You mutter, just barely over a whisper. Negan frowns, "I know... But I have to be cruel to keep them in line." Negan says. You shake my head, "No... No, you don't." You say. Negan sighs, "Baby. Listen to me." Negan says while grabbing your cheeks between his hands, "I promise you... I won't hurt your family. I take my promises seriously and you know that." Negan says.

You nod and sniffle, "...Okay." I mumble. "Alright... Now come here...* Negan says while putting his arms out to you. You get off the bed and onto the floor in front of him and hug his torso tightly. He hugs you back tightly and lovingly. Negan would keep his promise... He wouldn't hurt your family, but everyone else in Alexandria was up for grabs... One thing Negan knew how to do...

Was how to manipulate.

PART 2

[casuallyawkardd]

Close Encounters of the Spiderkind Pt II

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x Single Mother!Reader

Summary: Your daughter needs a sitter at the last minute and no one else is available, at least that’s what you thought..

Warnings: Fluff, Miguel is still a softie around kids, your daughter is a menace to society, this is basically the Miggy and Vada show, I’m not fluent in Spanish so correct me if I mess up 

A/N: Here’s the part 2 ya’ll wanted so bad! Thank you for the lovely feedback from the last post, I appreciate you guys 💞 If you want to be tagged for future parts, be sure to join the TAGLIST

MASTERLIST | TAGLIST

Another month had passed since your little home visit with Miguel. Halfway between then and now, you had decided on sharing your little secret with the rest of the Spider Society. It was no surprise when the other spiders wanted to know more about your daughter, many insisting that you bring her in some time for them to meet. It was especially rewarding when Peter B and Jess heard the news. Granted, Jess was a bit annoyed that you had kept Vada a secret for so long and Peter thought you had deprived Mayday of a potential friend, but after the initial shock they were just as eager to meet her as the others. 

Everyone was surprised at how anticlimatic Miguel’s reaction was. “I already knew,” he would reply when someone would question his behavior, “it’s my job to know.” Ever the cocky asshole, O’Hara. 

The biggest pro to the whole of Spider Society knowing you had a kid was the near infinite amount of babysitters. And trusted ones at that. Except Ben...he was on probation for encourging Vada to hit a new PR with very big, very real weights. Hobie was on thin ice as well, in your opinion Vada was too young to be ‘sticking it to the man’ as he so generously put it. 

When Miguel finds you, you’re in the Go Home Machine control room. Weird, he definitely remembered assigning you an urgent mission. He saunters in, welcomed by the sound of Spider-Byte and you in a very heated discussion.

“Come on Margo, it’s only for a few hours. Vada is a good girl, she won’t get in the way of your work.”

“Nope, not gonna do it. It’s way too last minute, do you see how many anomalies I have to send out today? Plus, I don’t do kids. They're sticky and my equipment doesn't do sticky,” Margo says dismisively, her holgogram zooming around the room as she continues her work.

"My daughter is not sticky," you retort, spinning around in place trying to keep up with her, arms crossed, suited up and ready to go. Miguel recognizes the annoyed look on your face, glad he’s not on the receiving end of it for once, but he’s about to be.

“What’s the hold up? I told you to be on Earth-76C ten minutes ago.”

Your head snaps in his direction, frustration fading only slightly as you huff, “I know. I’m supposed to pick up Vada in an hour, but now I need someone to do it instead and watch her until I finish the mission,” you deadpan him, fidgetting with the Gizmo on your wrist. 

“Did you try-”

“Yes, yes, I’ve asked everyone. Jess is doing date night, Peter said Mayday is sick...” Miguel listens as you rattle off the excuses every spiderperson threw at you, listing every close friend of yours in the society. “...Her grandparents are out of town and my neighbor is the one watching her now, but she has plans tonight as well. So if you have any bright ideas-”

“I can watch her,” it’s so surprising to hear those words come out of Miguel's mouth that even Margo has stopped working to look at him, but his eyes are focused solely on you. Your mouth is moving, but no sound comes out as you try to form a coherent sentence. 

“I couldn’t-”

“It’s really no problem.”

“You’re probably busy-”

“I’m actually very free right now.”

You scoff, hands moving to your hips, “Did Lyla lock you out of your lab again when you went to go grab food from the cafeteria?”

His eyebrows furrow and his jaw tightens, “Do you need a sitter or not?”

Miguel had lost track of how long he was standing in the hall of your apartment building, holographic suit materialized into more fitting clothes for your universe. It felt like an abnormal amount of time, but was probably only a few minutes. Only one old lady going into her apartment looked at him funny, but that was most likely due to the uncomfortable look on his face. It’d been a long time since he’d had to look after a kid by himself, let alone one as young as Vada. 

He had seen her in passing, whenever you would pick up or drop her off with one of the other spiders who had agreed to watch her. You even introduced them one time, saying he was your boss. Vada had just stared at him, he couldn’t tell if it was with a look of fear, confusion or awe. He had no idea how she would react to him picking her up rather than her mother. 

His knuckles rapped against the door and Miguel could hear someone approach from the other side. When it opened he was greeted by a woman, looking to be around your age, maybe even younger. She did a double take when she saw him, but Miguel was used to that. There weren’t a lot of universes where being six foot nine was considered normal. 

“Can I...help you?” she asked him finally.

“M’name’s Miguel...I was told to pick up Vada,” he said simply and her eyes lit up in understanding.

“Oh! You’re who she was calling about,” she called Vada’s name over her shoulder, letting the little girl know it was time to go. “How do you know Y/N again?”

“We’re coworkers,” it wasn’t a lie technically. Miguel parroting what you had told him to say so he could pretend to be someone you knew from your day job. 

“You’re a scientist?”

Miguel paused, confused by the question until he realized she was talking about his...physique. Her eyes not very subtly giving him the up and down. “I...work out when I’m stressed.”

The corners of the woman's mouth briefly turned down in a 'hmph' before returning to their normal position, “Must be hella stressed.”

There was the pitter patter of feet, making Miguel glance past the woman as Vada came to the door. It was almost comical how small she was compared to him, the top of her head barely making it to his hip. The pig tails that were meant to be on top of her head were lopsided, one still in tact while one sagged sideways, and there was a wet spot on her t-shirt. Is that...drool?

“She woke up from a nap about ten minutes ago,” the woman seemed to pick up on his confusion. She knelt down beside Vada, the two hugging goodbye, “Are you okay going with him back to your apartment?” she asked the toddler. 

Vada bit her lip in thought, looking back at Miguel as if to stare him down....or rather up. “Hmmm...yeah. Bye Aunt Harrie,” Vada responds in a neutral tone, stepping through the doorway with a backpack almost as big as her slung over one shoulder.

Miguel exchanged pleasantries with her aunt before the three parted ways. He easily tugged the backpack off her shoulder and followed the little girl down the hallway. She seemed to know the way home, their destination only a few floors up. The rickety elavator opened for them and Miguel stepped in, stopping the doors from closing at the last minute when he saw Vada had yet to get in. 

She...just stood there. Staring at him. Is she scared? Toddlers can get irrational fears, maybe the elevator freaks her out? Then she wouldn’t be looking at that instead of staring at me? “Are you coming?” he finally asked, meeting her gaze when she looks back up at him.

“You have to say superhero jump.” Well that was blunt.

“¿Perdóname?”

“Huh?”

Miguel cleared his throat, “I mean, what are you talking about?”

“Mama always says ‘superhero jump!’ and then I do a reeeally big jump from here to there,” Vada talks with her hands, pointing at her feet and then the elevator.

That’s ridiculous, was what Miguel was going to say before he stopped himself, sighing. “Superhero jump.”

“You have to say it in a happy voice.”

“Superhero jump~,” Miguel’s voice raised an octave in mock enthusiasm, but it seemed to do the trick as Vada did her bathetic jump over the elevator gap. “...Wow, good job.”

“Thank you,” she said proudly as she stood on her tip toes to hit the button for their floor. 

The rest of the short trip was uneventful. Miguel did give Vada a sideways glance when she didn’t request he say ‘superhero jump’ when they got out, calling her actions inconsistent in his head. Like he wasn’t referring to a toddler. When he opened the door to the apartment, Vada was off. She started by running into the living room, stuttering to a stop before going to her mother’s room, then her own and even the bathroom.

Finally she stopped back in the living room where Miguel waited, “Where’s Mama?”

“She’s working, I’m watching you, remember?”

Vada’s nose scrunched at that, “I want Mama.”

“I’m sure you do, but you’ll just have to wait.”

The toddler’s foot stomped defiantly, “I want Mama now!”

“Vada,” Miguel huffed, squatting to be level with her. “Cálmate, your mother will be home in a couple hours. You’re a big girl right? You can wait,” Vada glared at him, but it was hard to take a three year old’s anger seriously when she looked cute expressing it. She then gasped dramatically, cheeks puffing out as she held the breath, little hands covering her nose and mouth. There was a moment of awkward silence as they stared at one another.

What was she-oh. Oh.

“Stop that, throwing a tantrum isn’t gonna change my answer,” Miguel said a bit more firmly, making sure to be somewhat gentle still. She didn’t budge. “Vada, ay coño, that’s enough.¿Quieres desmayarte?” Do you want to pass out?

He reached a hand out to grab her, maybe jostle some sense into her, but didn’t get the chance as she erupted into giggle when his hand grazed her side. Miguel was confused at first before realization hit, “Are you ticklish?” he teased.

Vada giggled again, her bad mood seeming to fade away almost instantly, “Noooo~,” she cooed. 

Miguel scoffed, the corners of his mouth turning up, “Alright, you’re not ticklish, but come on. I’m sure you don’t want to just stare at each other until your mom comes home. There’s gotta be something you want to do? Maybe play? What do you and your mom do for fun?”

The afternoon went by surprisingly fast. Vada was...quite the little firecracker. Very much her mother’s daughter. Not only did she look like a carbon copy of her mom, but she had the same mannerisms. The way her nose scrunched when she was displeased with something he said, the way she bit her bottom lip when thinking hard about something, it was like he was babysitting a tinier version of you. 

Vada played him like a fiddle, getting him to play pretend with her little toys, even convincing him to do different voices for each of the dolls she had assigned to him. Miguel was just glad no one else was around to witness this, he’d be spending the rest of his life threatening them to keep quiet. He became very aware of the drama at Vada’s preschool, the little girl filling him in on all the latest gossip, to which Miguel was listening to with an embarrassing amount of intrigue. 

“...now Becca isn’t talking to Daina because Daina laid next to Teddy during nap time,” Vada rambles on, absentmindedly rolling a toy truck across the floor. 

“Uh huh, because Becca like likes Teddy,” Miguel affirms, his deep, monotone voice a stark contrast to hers. He sat next to her on the ground, watching Vada as she continued to play, while detangling the hair of one of her dolls with a tiny, plastic brush. 

“Yup! And then Becca got mad and pushed Daina into the sandpit, so now Becca can’t play outside for pickup.”

“Tch! Puta...” Miguel mutters the phrase without even registering it, catching himself when he realizes how invested he’s gotten in petty gossip. A child’s petty gossip, no less. Domínese, O’Hara... 

“Puta.”

Miguel’s eyes widen, looking back at Vada. Did she just.. “Don’t say that word.”

“Why?”

“It’s a bad word.”

“Nuh-uh, my mommy knows all the bad words and she's never said that one.”

“It is.”

“Poooootaaaaah~” Vada enunciates, giggling at how annoyed Miguel gets when she says it. Before Miguel can scold her once more, the clicking of the front door alerts them of your arrival, both Vada and Miguel’s head snapping to watch as you come in and shut the door behind you. 

It had been a more difficult mission than you had anticipated. The Sandman from your earth was reeking havoc in another dimension. Seemed like an easy fix, until you discovered there was another Sandman from a different universe also in the mix. After some sloppy web work, a little assistance from the spider of that universe and a few bruised ribs, you had them captured and returned to HQ to be sent back to their respective earths. The damage to your body was minimal, for someone with superhuman abilities, a good night’s rest would have you back to normal.

The door had hardly been shut when the familiar tapping of Vada’s feet on the hardwood approaches you. And as usual, you crouch down to accept her embrace, this time wincing slightly as her little body collides into yours, your toddler oblivious to the injuries you had sustained. She wastes no time talking your ear off, telling you how her day was at Aunt Harrie’s and her evening with Miguel.

Miguel, speaking of, stood in the archway that connected the kitchen to the living room to watch the interaction unfold. You don’t see it, but the sight of you watching as Vada eagerly chatters brings a smile to his face, just a small one, as he admired the relationship between mother and daughter. When you glance his way, he averts his gaze to the ground and clears his throat stiffly. 

“Well, sweet girl, it sounds like you had a busy day,” you say, looking back at your daughter. She’s beaming at you, a sight that always warms your heart no matter how many times you see it. “Come on, let’s get dinner started.” Vada moves like someone who’s never eaten, bolting to the kitchen counter and crawling onto one of the bar stools. 

“Can Miggy have dinner too?” she asks, fidgetting excitedly in her seat. The question makes you pause, stopping just as you were about to fill an empty pot with water. After hemming and hawing for a moment, Vada decides to turn her attention to the man in question, “Can you, Miggy? Can you?”

Miguel’s eyes narrow, jaw set as he thinks of what to say, Vada waiting with bated breath. “Well...”

“It’s fine.” You finally find your voice again. 

Miguel turns his attention to you now, “It is?”

“Yeah, I don’t see why not,” you shrug simply, “that is if you want to stay for dinner.” Miguel purses his lips as he thinks over your offer and you try not to chuckle at the sight.

“...What are you making?”

“Boxed Mac n Cheese.”

He scoffs, “That doesn’t sound very-”

“Mac n Cheese is my favorite!” Vada chimes in, “Mama always gets the one’s shaped like unicorns and rainbows cuz they taste better.”

Her words make Miguel pause again, finally letting out a deep breath through his nose, “Sure, I’ll stay for dinner.”

You smile mischievously, “We’re happy to have you, ‘Miggy~.’”

“Don’t push your luck.”

Dinner with you and your daughter was surprisingly pleasant. Miguel didn’t say much as he shoved the cheap pasta and cheese down his throat, watching you interact with your daughter. It was domestic, almost peaceful. Afterward Miguel offers to do the dishes while you put Vada down for the night. He excuses himself once done, thanking you for the meal and making sure to leave out the part that, for dinner being a cheap box of mac n cheese, it was the best meal he had had in a long time. 

Tags:

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[forever-once-gone]

Day 3: Yoongi - You Meet Your Fated at a Coffee Shop <3

Part of the Love, Amour, Aur Pyaar drabble series for February! (lol)

Word count: 3.7k (can't keep them short for the life of me)

Content and Warnings: soulmate au, coffee shop au, gn!reader, sharing preferences, arguing, frustration, they're both a bit dense lol, but other than that nothing too terrible in this, just sweet honestly, almost throwing up, coffee snob!Yoongi, barista!Yoongi, mocha slander, terms of endearment: baby, dear, Y/n is ready to FIGHT

Author's Note: Hey! So like I know it is well past Feb, but tbh it was crazy of me to even think id have time to publish these things during midterms season. Even though I had reading week, it was just not going to happen. Even though I did manage to write some of the days, I obviously couldn't every day. And posting? Forget about it. Anyway, even if it's past Feb, would you want me to post the ones I did write? It won't be instantaneous, but I would like to share what I did write, and maybe even finish all the other days as I had already planned out what I wanted to write each day. Let me know if you're interested! Anyways, as always, enjoy! <3

Another mocha, just another mocha to fill up in the takeaway cup for another person who is trying to get through the February cold. Yoongi gets a lot of mocha requests before the winter holidays season. When so many are hyped up with Christmas cheer. Even people who do not celebrate Christmas tend to indulge in peppermint mochas when the snow hits the ground. And the trend trickled into the post holiday months every winter season. To the point when people ordered mochas even into early spring.

Yoongi, ever the coffee enthusiast, hated having to make so many mochas.

Frankly, he considered mochas just snobby chocolate milk with the smallest hint of caffeine. Like do mochas even deserve to be considered coffee-based beverages? He thought not. You could barely even taste the coffee in between the thick, tongue-coating taste of chocolate and the heaviness of way too much milk.

Everytime he had to make mochas, every single time, he’d be cursing in his head about how he would rather just be able to make his espressos, black coffees, and iced americanos. Iced americanos are the most he’d be willing to go when it comes to diffusing the taste of coffee.

Adding milk? Forget it.

Adding sugar? He’d rather just pour it down the drain than drink it.

Alas, when it comes to his job, he has to fulfill the customer’s wishes. No matter how much he hated the sugary, barely-even-coffee, more-like-milkshakes drinks, he would make the drink for them. A waste of good coffee in his books, but he needed the money that came from his overpriced caffeinated chocolate milk 

So, when it came to a coffee-novice coming into his coffee shop asking for a mocha, he would grit his teeth but make the drink nonetheless, the underline he requires to be able to pay his shop’s mortgage and keep all of his employees.

It was another one of these spring days when he’d unlocked the front doors of the café only to see someone new. Normally, only a few select people would come to his café so early in the morning, after all, most people started work at 9 or later. Only a few people would come at 5:30 when he opened. But today, there was someone new.

There was you, a person he’d never seen before standing behind his regulars. A cheery looking person, giving him a smile when he unlocked the door and opened it for the small group of people to trickle in.

He made his way behind the counter as he began his small routine with his regulars, smiling at each one of them as they gave him their orders, even though there really was no need as he had gotten each one of them memorized ages ago.

He took and prepared each order with practiced ease, until he got to the last person in line. The one who had spent the last ten minutes scanning the chalkboard menu with an analytical look.

You.

“Good morning,” you said to him with a kind smile.

“Good morning,” he replied. “What can I get started for you today?”

You wrung your hands, scanning the menu again, before looking back at him. “Can I get a large mocha?”

He scoffed. Seriously, chocolate this early in the morning? Typical from a cheery-looking person like yourself.

“What?” you asked, wondering if you’d broken some unspoken social cue. You’d seen the way he’d kindly spoken to the customers before you, making small talk, so what happened when it came to you?

“Nothing, nothing,” he waved you off, before pressing some buttons on his cash register’s screen. “That’ll be 5000 won.”

“No, no. That definitely was something. Did I say anything wrong?” You insisted, brows furrowed together in a mix of worry and a bit of indignation.

“No, not at all. It’ll be 5000 won.” He tried to force a smile, but your eyes were squinted together just as you did before when you were scanning the menu, but this time your object of interest was him.

“What? You just don’t like me or something?” You felt a bit uncomfortable, out of place in this cafe with a barista who seemed to hold a certain disdain for you from the moment you opened your mouth. But that didn’t mean you were going to back down from this entitled man. You eyed him up and down, letting him know the contempt was mutual.

He let out a small scoff, before seeming to recompose himself with customer service professionalism. “Of course not. I’m sorry if it seemed that way. Your total is 5000 won.”

You could see through his poorly reconstructed composure, but nonetheless gave him the requested money. You were already running late to your job interview, and you needed this job if you hoped to actually be able to rent a place in this city. You had already spent three weeks staying with your friend after moving here from your old city. You couldn’t stay with her forever, even if she was willing to keep you for forever if you needed it.

You stepped away from the register after he had given you your change and moved away to make your drink. You took the time to continue admiring the interior of the cafe as the barista flew around his counter space. You took in the worn furniture resembling something half between industrial and contemporary. The hanging lights and the various maps lining the walls of the place. Very hipster. Fitting for a coffee shop.

The call of: “One large mocha?” brought you back from your inspection. With a hum, you took your drink from him, feeling the drink warm your gloved hands.

“Thanks.”

“No problem, have a nice day.” And with that he was moving back to his dishes to clean up the dishes he’d used before the next customers wandered in.

You turned away from him, moving towards the door. Before you pushed open the door to brave into the cold, you flipped open the flap on the top of the to-go cup. You took a quick sip, ready for the delicious drink to coat your tongue, but instead your tastebuds were assaulted with a heinous amount of sugar. It tasted like you’d boiled a pool full of chocolate and dumped a truck full of sugar and then reduced the entire pool full over a roaring fire until only a cup of the concentrated mixture remained full of pure chocolate and sugar.

You immediately turned back on your heel. Pressing your tongue against the tip of your mouth, trying to rid it of the sweet assault. “You messed up,” you slammed the cup on the counter, seeing the barista’s shoulders jump at the loud thump.

“What’s the issue?” he asked, as he wiped off his hands on a hand towel before flipping it onto his shoulder. He leaned onto the counter with the palms of his hands, not even trying to hide his annoyance with you anymore considering the frown he sent your way.

“This is way too sweet. Like what, did you dump a whole bag of sugar into this thing?” You nudged the cup towards him. “If you didn’t like me, you could have just refused to take my order, you didn’t have to do all this!” You gestured to the cup.

“Please, I need you to calm down. I didn’t do anything to your drink. It’s just a regular mocha. Mochas are sweet, you should have known that before you ordered it for the first time.” He rolled his eyes slightly.

“First time? Oh, honey, no—I know what mochas are meant to taste like and this is not it. It’s practically the only thing I ever get!”

He scoffed yet again. Typical, he thought to himself. Never would've guessed. “Just take your drink and go, I don’t have time for this.”

“You don’t believe me do you?” You said in disbelief. You never would dare fight with someone like this, but for some reason, this one guy was just getting on your nerves. Typically, even if your order had gotten mixed up you would just swallow your disappointment and try to enjoy the drink anyway. Even if it was something bitter and boring like a plain black coffee. But the way this man had been acting from the moment you ordered has been rude and completely ruined your confidence. Not what you needed at all before trying to get this job. And for some reason, it felt like all your senses and emotions had been turned up to 100, so controlling your anger was a lot harder.

“Drink it,” you told him, holding his eye contact. “Yeah, drink it. If you can drink even one gulp without making a face, I’ll admit I was wrong and leave.”

The barista tongued his cheek for a moment, contemplating what you said. “I don’t want to. I don’t like mochas, besides, I can’t drink a customer’s drink anyway.”

“I’m just gonna take your refusal as you admitting that you fucked with my drink.”

By this point the two people left in the shop were watching the two of you fighting at the counter. A middle aged man walked up to the counter, stepping in to try and defuse the situation. “Why don't you just take a sip of it, Yoongi? Just to prove them wrong?”

“I refuse,” the barista, Yoongi, said to the man. “It’s a matter of principle at this point. I’m not drinking it. I know my abilities, and I know that that mocha would be as good as mochas get. I’m not gonna take a sip of a nasty ass mocha just cause this person wants to throw a fuss at five in the morning.”

“So you admit you fucked with it?! You admitted it’s nasty!”

“No,” he rolled his eyes at you for the umpteenth time this morning. “I just hate mochas, they taste like shit. But anyone who likes those chocolatey messes will admit mine are as good as they get. I might not like them, but I still put all my effort into making sure they taste good.”

“Just fucking drink it then! I’m not joking, this tastes like shit. Maybe something is wrong with your milk steaming machine or something—this just isn’t right!”

The middle-aged man decided to try and put the fight to an end. “Why don’t I just give it a try, huh?”

“No!” But Yoongi and you said at the same time, before turning back to each other again.

“He refuses to admit it, and he has to be the one to try it!” You crossed your arms.

“And they’re the one who is making a big situation over nothing, you should never give in to people like them.” He glared at you. Now that his patrons were getting involved, he wanted to get you out as soon as possible.

“Just try it! I swear it’s unbelievable. Just give it one sip!” You threw up your arms in frustration. “Come on, I’m not even asking for a refund or anything, I just want you to admit that you took your anger out on me for no reason. That’s all, I don’t even want an apology!”

“I don’t need to apologize! I didn’t do anything wrong! That mocha is PERFECT! I’d bet my life on it.” Yoongi was fuming now, chest heaving with frustration and annoyance. He was this close to calling the cops on you and calling it a day.

“Oh shut up with the ‘perfect’ nonsense! It’s not perfect! Just try it! This whole thing would have been over ages ago if you just gave it a try!” You pulled the cap off of the cup. “If you’re afraid it’s poisoned, I’ll take a sip of it before you drink it. See look.” 

You took a swig of the drink, nearly choking on the sugary beverage as you tried to keep the concoction from coming right back up. You gagged for a second or two, before finally straightening back up, wiping your mouth with the back of your gloved hand.

The two men around you exchanged expressions, their anger turning more to disbelief. Either you were a great actor or that drink really, really sucked.

“There, see. I didn’t tamper with it. Now, please, please just try it. Please. Don’t make me look insane. Just try it.”

There was a beat of silence.

“Fine. Fucking fine. I’ll try it. But if it tastes fine, you need to leave my shop and never come back, you hear me?”

“I swear. I won’t come back, don’t plan to anyway.”

Yoongi raised an eyebrow at that, before grabbing the lidless cup from the counter. He held it up, hesitated, and then said, “I really don’t like mochas,” with a scrunch of his nose. He took a breath and then took the smallest sip you’ve ever seen a human being take before slamming the cup down. His hand immediately came up to cover his mouth, his eyebrows furrowed.

You couldn’t bear to hide your smug look. How was he gonna hide how terrible the drink was now? He looked like he was going to throw up. Ha! That will show him!

But then he did the weirdest thing. He took another sip. A long sip this time. Other than his furrowed brows, he didn’t choke, gag, or even dry heave for a millisecond. Just watching him drink was making you nauseous.

“Oh my god!” you yelled, snatching the cup from his hands before he could take another sip, holding it up behind you, away from him. “You’re going to give yourself diabetes if you drink that whole thing!”

Immediately he tried to reach across the counter and get it back from you. “Hey! Give that back! This makes no sense!”

“Yoongi, calm down!” The man said, pushing the barista back off of the counter that he was practically leaning his whole body onto at this point.

“Why does it taste good?!” The distress that the barista was under put even you on pause. You watched the barista scramble around, rubbing at his head as if it was aching him. Was this the effect of all the sugar?

“Hey, man, you doing alright?” You placed the cup back down on the counter, holding a hand out to him to show you meant no harm.

He just shook his head, picking up a half empty mug from behind the counter that you had seen him periodically sipping from between the preparation of yours and the others’ drinks. He took a large gulp only to immediately run to the sink, spitting the drink right into the drain.

“Why does my coffee taste so heinous?! Why does it taste like fucking bitter gasoline? Why does the mocha taste so fucking good?!” He was still hunched over the sink, the only thing you could see of him was his back a bit of his lowered head. His arm reached to grab the hand towel on his shoulder to throw it to the side.

You had no answer for him. This was all so bizarre.

“This—” the middle aged man brought both your and Yoongi’s attention to him, as he brought the cup back to his lips for another sip. When had he taken your mocha from you? Was it when Yoongi was losing his mind? 

“This tastes…” He took another sip. His brows furrowed in concentration. 

“This tastes like a regular mocha.” He put the cup back down. “I think you guys need to calm down for a moment and think about what this means.”

“What do you mean?” you asked him.

“I think you know what I mean, dear.” The man had a kind-hearted look on his face as his eyes flitted between both you and Yoongi.

“OH MY GOD.” Yoongi grabbed the edge of the counter, seeming to understand the man’s insinuation. “There is no way.”

“What? What am I missing?” The man only shook his head as Yoongi raised his head to meet your gaze. He just pushed his half empty mug to you. Inside was black coffee.

“Try it. I need to see if it’s true.”

“Um, no. I don’t like black coffee. Yuck.” You nudged the mug right back to him only for him to stop the movement halfway. 

“That’s exactly why you have to try this,” Yoongi said as calmly as he could, though you could swear he looked almost like he could faint right then and there.

“Fine,” you took the mug from him. “Just cause you did drink the mocha.”

You swirled the dark liquid in the mug, debating whether it was worth it to drink the bitter liquid. But when you looked up to see that both the man and Yoongi were watching you like scientists inspecting their latest mutant rats for their observational notes, you just took a sip only to get them to stop staring at you.

Instantly your throat was soothed as the smooth taste of the perfectly roasted coffee made its way through your mouth. You’d never drunk anything so refreshing, so calming as it warmed you up from the inside out. Even though there was no sugar or cream, you surprisingly didn’t mind it as it allowed the rich flavour of the black coffee to shine through strongly. It tasted so good.

You didn’t put down the mug until you’d finished the whole thing.

The middle aged man had a small smile on his face, while Yoongi seemed to be still in his inspector mode.

“So,” the man began. “How was it?”

You thought about it for a second. “Good. Like really good. Like surprisingly good.”

The man clapped his hands. “Well there you have it. Congrats you two.”

You shook your head for a second, scrunching your face in annoyance. “What are you talking about?”

Yoongi came around the counter, finally coming to stand beside you without anything between you two. “Do I need to spell it out for you?”

“Easy, Yoongi. Don’t want to scare them off now do you?”

Yoongi rolled his eyes at the man but then nodded his head in understanding. “You don’t like black coffee right? Too bitter or something?”

You nodded. “Yeah, too bitter. I need more sugar or else I just can’t get it down.”

“And I hate mochas. They’re too sweet and you can’t even tell there is coffee in it since it's so overpowered by the sugar, chocolate, and milk.”

“Okay… What does that have to do with me though?”

“But I just liked the mocha. Not just liked, I loved the mocha. And you loved the black coffee.”

“Yeah…” You waited for him to clarify further.

He waved his arm as if urging you to think further, but when you just cocked your head to the side in confusion, he dropped his arm back down to his side. “Seriously?” he asked, exasperated. “I hated my usual coffee and loved your mocha. And you hated your usual mocha and loved my coffee.”

You nodded your head, trying to understand what he was trying to get at. Until it just clicked, your eyes widening instantly, reaching to grab his elbows. “OH MY GOD! We’re soulmates! Oh my god! We switched preferences! We’re soulmates!” You threw your arms around him, pulling him as close to you as you could through your thick winter jacket.

“Took you long enough,” he huffed, his arms reciprocating your grasp.

“Oh my god! I knew I was meant to move here! I have to tell my roommate! But wait—” you pushed him out of your hold.

Yoongi let out a light groan, as he caught himself from stumbling.

You pointed a finger at him accusingly. “You hate mochas, you black coffee supremacist!”

“Seriously?” Yoongi asked you. “That’s your biggest concern now?”

“Well yeah! I mean, I don’t know if my preferences will change back, but if they do, I can’t stay with a soulmate that thinks he’s superior to me because of his coffee preferences!”

Yoongi let out a small laugh, his lips tugging into a smile. “If it makes you feel any better, I think I will never be able to hate mochas after today.”

Even with your finger still pointed at him, you felt your lips pull into a wide smile at the hidden meaning behind his words.

You both jumped at the clearing of a throat behind the two of you. The man had made his way to the front door of the coffee shop with his order in his hand. “Sorry, sorry. Just wanted to let you know that my wife, Maria, had been recording the entire thing in case you needed to call the police.” He nodded towards the other patron who had been at the shop when you and Yoongi had started fighting who was now standing holding the door open as she waited for her husband. “Let me know if you want the video of your first meeting, I’m sure your friends and family would love to see it,” he said between kind-hearted soft laughs, before leaving hand-in-hand with Maria.

“Maybe even our future grandkids,” you teased him happily, taking a step back towards him.

Yoongi just smiled in reply, showing off his perfect teeth to you.

You felt your heart swell.

He took another step towards you, grabbing a hold of your hands by your side. “I would like that.”

You heard the door chime as a customer walked into the coffee shop before their steps halted somewhere behind you.

“Uh, is this a bad time?” The customer asked from behind you.

“Give me a second,” Yoongi replied.

“Alright,” the person cleared their throat. “Just don’t want to be late for work.”

That seemed to jolt you out of your Yoongi admiring stupor. “Shit! I have an interview!” You tightened your hold on his hands before letting go.

By the time Yoongi realized what was going on, you were already halfway out the door.

“I’m going to be so late! I’ll be back later, okay, baby?” You had pushed the door open taking a step out before turning back to him. “I am allowed to come back right? Or am I still exiled from your shop?” You asked with a smile.

“Seriously?” He laughed, shaking his head as he made his way back behind the service counter. “Maybe you’ll just have to try your luck.”

“You’re impossible.” You laughed into your hand, waving your hand at him. “When I come back, if you don’t let me in, I’ll tell all your customers that I almost threw up after drinking your mocha.” You stuck out your tongue at him as he fake gasped, before finally actually leaving the shop.

Well, there's that.

So if you didn't get it, in this case, soulmates have different ways of finding out if they're meant to be in this universe. For Yoongi and Y/n, they met and ended up switching coffee preferences (or maybe even more preferences but the only thing they noticed so far is the coffee). Even though their reactions may seem extra, when you meet your soulmate all your emotions/feelings/everything is meant to be heightened. So they had each other's preferences, but n times stronger. So that's why they loved the other's preference like it was ambrosia, but their own preferences tasted like so bad to them. Y/n found the mocha wayyyy to sweet like Yoongi would usually, and Yoongi found the black coffee wayyyyy too bitter cause Y/n likes her coffee well sweetened and with a lot of stuff to mellow the coffee flavour.

But anyway, yes they're in love.

So yeah, do let me know if you want me to post the rest of these. It will be a slow process, but I would like to do so.

Take care!!

[skyfallscotland]

A year ago today, I posted the first chapter on AO3 of a story called Fury.

A few months before that, I'd picked up A Court of Thorns & Roses. It was the first original work I'd read in years and when I finished Silver Flames a week later, I turned back to AO3, desperate to read more about these characters I'd fallen in love with. I couldn't find what I wanted. Feysand fic was all well and good, but there wasn't much of that, and Azriel didn't appeal to me, which ruled out...well, most of the archive.

Original character fic gets a bad rap and that's mostly because OC fic can often be an author's first foray into fandom and writing in general, making the quality hit and miss, but that's what I really wanted in the end—I wanted to read about other characters in this world and I wanted to flesh out the world itself. I had questions about Windhaven, about siphons and magic and all the things that had been mentioned and glossed over. I couldn't find fic that answered those questions. So I wrote one.

I'd written before, basically my whole life, but never finished anything. This time though, it was like something clicked in my brain. I wasn't back on Tumblr yet and I had no one to talk to about it, but I wrote and wrote and wrote. I'd been writing for months, in secret, not telling a single soul. I'd completely written both Fury and Siren, the second in the series, before ever posting a word of it.

I almost didn't write it, really. Almost didn't post it. I figured no one was going to read it with the way people look down on original character fic. But I felt compelled to write their stories, so I did—night after night. I actually think they might be the best stories I've ever written. The statistics don't reflect that, but I didn't have a storyline to follow, a framework to back me up, like I did later with Remi's Version, just a world and some characters and I'm very proud of them.

Remi's Version came after. I'd started writing it by September, but didn't start posting it until late October (that anniversary is next week) and I almost didn't write that either, because I thought maybe it was too much, too self-indulgent, too unbalanced. It's funny to think now, that I almost never wrote her at all.

I don't know why I'm writing this essay. Maybe just because it feels...some kind of way, you know? It's been a year, but that year felt like a decade, and it's been hard. Picking up ACOTAR was an act of self-preservation when I was at my lowest and Fury and Siren and everything that came after pulled me from somewhere I never want to be again.

It's been a year. My word count on AO3 is now 1,088,097. (That's like, twelve novels!). I've published 11 works. I've written a lot, I've laughed and cried and made friends with so many of you. I'm alive.

I guess I just wanted to say thanks, and to mark the milestone somehow because it feels like I've lived ten lives since October 17th, and in all of them, this was the high point. Happy Birthday, Tessa 🖤

[harlowsbby]

Pranks & Spooks 👻🧡

“I can’t believe you’re actually going to prank him this bad he’s going to absolutely hate us.” Urban stated as you placed a few pieces of furniture on the floor.

“I mean he can never hate me besides it’s just a fun little prank it won’t cause much harm.” You paused. “At least I won’t think it will.” Urban groaned.

“What do you want me to do with this?” He asked as he held up the bottle of fake blood. “Just pour some on the floor and make foot prints out of it, I need this prank to seem believable.” You smirked.

“You’re evil you know that?” You shrugged your shoulders.” “I’ve been told that a few times.”

The minute it hit October you were already planning out and thinking of ways to prank Jack. You’ve pranked him before in the past but your current prank was going to top all of the rest.

You had this idea to stage a fake home invasion prank on Jack. You were going to make it seem as if someone broke in and knocked everything over, you even bought fake glass to scatter across the floor.

Urban came over to help set up but to also make footsteps upstairs to make it seem like the intruder was still in the house when Jack arrived home.

“When is he leaving the studio?” Urban asked as the two of you finished setting up everything. You checked your phone seeing a recent message from Jack.

Jack

- on the way home 💘

“He told me was on the way home and this was sent ten minutes ago which means he’ll be pulling up any minute now.” Urban’s eyes widened.

“Do you think everything looks believable? Like he’d actually believe someone broke in.” You did one more look around.

Everything honestly did look real down to the shattered glass and the fake blood footprints it actually looked like a home invasion, the pieces of furniture laying on the ground really brought it together as well.

“I definitely think he will, I’m gonna open the back porch to make it seem like one of the robbers left and we can both go upstairs I’ll hide in the closet and you just start stomping when he comes in.” Urban sighed.

“You owe me Y/N.” You rolled your eyes. “Let’s go he’s about to be here.” The two of you quickly made your way upstairs, you hid in the closest while Urban waited near the bedroom door to be able to hear Jack come in the house.

After a few minutes of waiting you heard the front door open followed by Jack calling out for you. “Baby, I’m hom-.” Jack paused upon seeing all the broken ‘glass’ and ‘blood’ everywhere and the back porch door being wide open.

“What? Babe what’s going on?” Jack set his keys on the couch and carefully walked over the shattered glass.

“Is this some type of prank Y/N? You know Halloween isn’t for a few more days right?” He laughed. Jack knew at some point you were going to try and prank him this month and he assumed today was the day.

“Babe, I’m not playing anymore come on.” He stated again he was about to call you but when he noticed the bloody foot prints and the door to the back porch being wide open he started panicking, maybe your prank really wasn’t a prank.

“Shit.” He muttered and went to get his phone to call 911 but the sound off footsteps stopped him from calling.

He froze when he heard loud and heavy footsteps coming towards your shared bedroom. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He whispered to himself.

“What am I gonna do.” He panicked and mentally cursed for not having some sort of weapon in the house.

He looked around and couldn’t find anything to defend himself with, the closes thing to a weapon was a vase so he took it and slowly creeped upstairs.

“Where’s the money!” Urban yelled and tried his best to disguise his voice. “I have no money! Just take the necklace and go.” You pleaded and cried out.

“You leave me no choice!” Urban yelled. “Please don’t do this I’m sure I can call my boyfriend and he’ll give you anything.” You faked cried.

It was very last minute that you decided to trick Jack into thinking you were getting robbed upstairs.

Jack’s eyes widened and without a second thought he quickly opened your bedroom door with the vase held high, ready to hit Urban with it till you stopped him.

“Get the hell away from my girlfriend, you chose the wrong house today buddy.” Urban’s back was to Jack so Jack still had no idea who the person was.

“Jack, no don’t do that.” You laughed as you approached him and took the vase from his hands. “What? He was about to attack you? Are you insane?” He yelled.

“No he wasn’t.” His eyebrows furrowed together. “Wha-.” He stopped talking when Urban turned around revealing his face.

“What’s good?” Urban laughed.

Jack’s facial expressions went from panicked to confused to irritated while you stood next to him doubling over in laugher.

“Another fucking prank? And a home invasion prank at that.” He muttered as he rolled his eyes. “It was her idea.” Urban tried defending himself.

“I’m not talking to either till the end of the year.” Your mouth flew open. “What! It was just a silly prank I know I can think of a few ways that’ll make you forgive me.” You stated as you rubbed his arms.

“I mean I suppose I can think of a few way as well.” He smirked making Urban gag.

“That’s my que to leave.” Urban quickly left while you spent the entire night apologizing to Jack in many ways.

(Requested by @harlowcomehome 💘 I hope you guys enjoy it.)

[rogerswifesblog]

Stacy’s mom

My Masterlist

A/N: inspired by the song “Stacys mom” and our conversation @jamneuromain 😋 it was very spontaneous and I wrote it in a few hours but…It was kinda fun🤣 so let me know how you liked it! I’m thinking about a pt 2! (Yes I know I have thousands series and one shots planned and am still working on the bingo drabbles but…I like writing most of my things depending on my mood😋)

Summary: Steve knew he was in trouble walking into his friends house and seeing her mom.

Pairing: highschool!Steve Rogers x Stacys Mom reader

Warnings: stacys mom reader, older reader, age gap, Steve is 17/18 but reader and him don’t interact then besides some teasing, masturbation, underage drinking

“I think we should choose the second topic. Benefits of daily exercise and how to incorporate it into your routine. Let’s be honest, I’m the real life example”, Steve laughed, sitting with Stacy in her living room on the floor, in front of the coffee table. It was the first time he was at her place, needing to finish a project that was very important for the grade.

A few months ago his asthma became much better and his many asthma attacks stopped, making it possible for him to exercise. Puberty finally hit him and he got a growth spurt, growing nearly ten inches in just a few months. He was still lanky, but happy about not being the shortest in the class anymore.

But with puberty also came acne, his forehead and cheeks were covered in small and annoying pimples. He used extra creams to get rid of them, which slowly helped.

“That’s a good idea. Maybe you could talk about your experience…how it affected your health and body”, Stacy thought about it for a second before taking some notes. “We can-“ The slamming of a door made Stacy jump slightly, so did Steve.

“Are you stupid?! I said no. It’s tomorrow and not in a week do you hear me? You’re not going on any stupid trips with your new wh- oh I will call her what I want! You dirty cheater-don’t you dare not show up tomorrow-” a woman’s voice carried through the house, the clicking of heels coming closer as you walked into the kitchen, Stacy and Steve watching you as you opened the fridge, not even noticing the two teenagers.

“For fucks sake, I have all rights being mad at you. We were together for-” They both didn’t listen much further as Stacy started talking about the project again, but Steve wasn’t listening to her either. His gaze was glued to your form, dressed in an expensive looking suit, the red-bottomed heels making your legs look incredibly hot, your butt- “Steve, are you even listening?” “Of course I do. Yes. Definitely.-“ “yeah? What was I talking about?”

“….could you…maybe repeat it?” Steve felt himself blush a dark red, his face burning with shame of being caught checking out her mom. That was definitely embarrassing.

Even though he started working on the project again, he couldn’t stop himself from peaking over at you. You were still turned with your back to Them arguing on the phone.

“She’s probably talking to dad again. They argue a lot now with the divorce…I don’t blame her. Of course I love my dad, but he did her wrong. They were married for nearly twenty years and he cheated on her-from what I’ve heard it wasn’t the first time or at least it wasn’t a one time thing”, explained Stacy, seeing as Steve was looking over to the kitchen.

He blushed again, nodding slowly. “Sorry, I just thought we’d be alone. It’s a bit distracting-“ for other reasons that Stacy might suspect. “I can tell her to go to her office or bedroom. They’ll probably argue for a long long time…”, she sighed, already standing up. Steve immediately followed her, shaking his head, “no, no. It’s fine. We can just take a break for now-maybe order something to eat? Your mom maybe wants something too…”, he felt himself blush again, as Stacy walked to the kitchen, Steve following her.

“Hi mom-could you please talk a bit quieter? I told you Steve’s coming over today. We have a project”, said Stacy walking into the open kitchen. “But we’ll take a break now-order something to eat. You want something? A pizza? Thai?”

Hearing your daughters voice you lowered your phone, turning around to look at her, your gaze falling onto the young blonde boy watching your every move. He seemed…mesmerised. He extended his hand to introduce himself properly, making you smile lightly as you ended the call without saying anything else and took his hand. “Nice to meet you, Steve. I’m sorry you had to hear this. I’m usually not such a bitch it’s just my soon ex-husband makes my blood boil” You laughed quietly.

Steve chuckled too. You could tell it was a nervous chuckle. You imagined he may have liked your daughter and was stressed of meeting you, her mother.

“Just order the usual pizza I like and take some money from my purse, I’ll go change into something more comfortable.” With that you left the room and seeing how Steve couldn’t take his eyes off of you he knew he was in trouble.

The next time he saw you was only three weeks later, once again at stacys house. After working some more on the project they both decided to sit at the pool and sunbathe a bit. When he noticed the lawnmower at the gate seemingly unused since the lawn wasn’t taken care of. “You need help with the lawn maybe? I can take care of that”, said the young boy already standing up and walking over to the lawnmower.

Stacy wanted to argue with him about not needing to do so, but he did anyway. It’d only take him a few minutes and he liked the idea of impressing Stacy’s mom, you.

When he was nearly finished you walked out of the house, a towel wrapped around your body, the strings of a black bikini wrapped around your neck. And when you dropped the towel-he could burst. Your body was incredible. You were already a bit tanned, your curves dressed only in the bikini, your thighs moving against one another, the thick flesh wiggling with every step, making him want to bite into it.

Jesus. He really shouldn’t be thinking about things like that or he’d soon have a problem that needs to be hidden.

You were incredibly beautiful, your breasts and stomach looking so soft. He could see some stretch marks, but they only made you even more attractive.

“You missed a spot over there, Stevie sweetheart”, you teased him, noticing how he stopped concentrating on his task. He felt himself blush, a small smile creeping on his lips as he nodded and kept going, this time a bit more concentrated.

You couldn’t stop yourself from teasing him a bit more, since he watched you Everytime he walked by, so you took the sunscreen and started applying it on your whole body. Stacy didn’t notice any of it since she had her eyes closed. Besides you tried to make it look like you weren’t doing anything on purpose-especially not then you stood up and started applying the suncream on your legs, bending down and showing off your legs.

A grin crept on your lips when you heard the Grill being knocked over. It was your ex husbands anyway.

After finishing mowing the lawn he quickly excused himself to the bathroom, closing the door and immediately leaning against the text wall, pushing down his swim shorts. His hardness springing free. He didn’t waste any time before spitting in his palm and wrapping his fingers around his length, stroking himself hard and fast.

He tried to keep his moans quiet, but still couldn’t stop the gasps escaping his lips, especially when he started imagining it wasn’t his hand on his dick. He thought about your soft skin against his body. Your thighs wrapped around his slim waist-or even better if he’d fuck your thighs. Your meaty legs would feel amazing, squeezing his dick. Maybe you’d even let him finish like that. On your stomach and tits-or Steve you’d let him fuck your pussy without a condom, letting him feel your velvet walls. Your wet and tight curb gripping him tightly, your moans would be so soft and sweet.

Before he’d let himself come he’d make sure to get at least two orgasm out of you. Maybe one with his mouth or fingers, then on his cock…then he’d love to shoot his load in you. Filling you with his seed.

The thought was all he needed to come, shooting his load all over himself. Thank god he managed to push his shirt up just in time before making a mess.

He felt ashamed wiping off his cum from the bathroom floor before walking back to the pool, where his heart's desire sat.

It was a fantasy. He knew. He definitely had no chance, being only a teenager and especially being friends with your daughter.

But having a fantasy didn’t hurt even a bit, right?

He loved watching you whenever you moved or walked around the house. Your house quickly became a place he visited at least once a week, always working on the project. But the worst was happening-well, two things. One, the project was slowly coming to an end and you had a date.

It’s not like he had any right to be jealous, but…still. Watching you getting all dolled up for some guy made his heart tighten. You always looked beautiful but seeing you in a beautiful light blue dress, with a low cleavage, showing off your shoulders and collarbones made his throat dry. The dark, black choker you wore made you look a bit like…Cinderella.

A smile crept onto his lips as he thought about it, quickly looking down not to get caught.

He wished you looked this good for him. He wished he could take you out on a date, have your soft hands wrapped around his arm.

But he couldn’t take you out. He didn’t even have the money to do so.

Sighing he opened his textbook again, taking some last notes.

Maybe one day he could at least buy you a bouquet of the most beautiful roses…

The project was finally finished, only two weeks later Stacy and Steve had everything ready to hand in and decided to have a nice and relaxing evening together drinking some beer which…Stacy asked you to buy. Surprisingly Stacy said you had only chuckled at that question and actually bought a few.

In all These weeks Steve and Stacy got closer, but only in a platonic way. Stacy had tried to flirt with him at first, but it changed quickly. He couldn’t tell exactly when but at some point she just stopped.

And now they were just sitting in the backyard, drinking beers, both on their third ones.

“Steve…I wanted to ask you…have you a thing for my mom?”, not expecting this question Steve choked on his beer, immediately coughing and spitting his beer all over himself.

“Wh-what?”, he croaked, shaking his head quickly. “I-I'd never-no. Of course not. That’s-That'd be…that’d be weird. I’m mean-it’s your mom-“ Stacys laugh interrupted his rambling.

“I knew it. You’re not very subtle with all the question you know? Is your mom back from the business trip? Is she away for work again? Do you think she likes roses or sunflowers more? You weren’t subtle. Not at all, Steve. At first I was really weirded out, but…I guess we all have some weird crushes at some point, you know? We’ll go to college soon, anyway, so you’ll get over it”, she shrugged, making Steve blush with every next sentence.

He took another big sip from his bottle, looking to the house for a second, where he could see you walking around the kitchen, preparing dinner. “Yeah…’s just a crush”, he mumbled, not wanting to tell Stacy how much he actually liked you.

But she was right. He’d probably get over you soon. He’d meet someone at his new university…

But did he really want that??

This thought stayed in his head for the rest of the evening, his chest feeling incredibly tight knowing it may be the last time he’d see you.

Slightly drunk Stacy and Steve walked back into the house, seeing you had left the food for them on the counter. They are quietly, not wanting to disturb you and after both laid down-Stacy in her room and Steve in the living room on the pull-out sofa. Even tho he was comfortable and surrounded by your smell he didn’t feel any peace. He couldn’t fall asleep, his mind was racing.

You yourself had eaten earlier before taking a bath and walked into your bedroom to go to sleep early.

But of course you were awoken by your small bladder, needing release. Sighing you sat up, straightening your nightgown in case the kids were still outside or still awake. Then you walked out of your bedroom, wrapping a silky robe around your body.

You did your business quietly, washed your hands and looked a bit tiredly into the mirror. A sigh escaped your lips. You were getting old, weren’t you? This year you turned 36 and it showed. The wrinkles around your eyes couldn’t be hidden anymore. Your skin wasn’t as smooth as it used to be. Your body wasn’t the same anymore, you had stretch marks, it was hard to stay in shape, especially with your limited time since you were always busy with work…

You sighed again, putting your night creame once again on. It wouldn’t change anything overnight of course, but you still hoped it’d slow down the aging. It’s not like you looked bad or really old-you weren’t even that old, if you had to be honest, but….you’d love to be twenty again, for one night at least.

Leaving the bathroom you walked quietly through the room, being stopped when Steve stumbled out of the living room, looking like he was in a hurry-at First you thought he wanted to go to the bathroom but when you stepped aside to let him through, he only stepped closer to you.

Your gaze fell for a second on his bare, slim chest. He gained a bit muscles since you had last seen him at the pool a few weeks ago. He looked cute. Not that it mattered. It’s weird you were even thinking like this.

“Give me a chance”, he mumbled, making you furrow your eyebrows, a little wrinkle appearing between them. “What?” “Give me a chance…I-I’ll try to be the perfect guy for you. I could be-I just-I need to finish school-and co-“ You shook your head, now understanding. “Steve, Steve, stop-We can’t. I can’t…you’re just drunk. You gotta go back to sleep, okay?”, you smiled kindly, slowly wrapping your fingers around his wrists and pulling him with you to the living room, pushing him into a sitting position.

“I mean it-you deserve a guy like me. I’ll be perfect for you-I know I’m still young but-“ “exactly Steve. You’re young. You could be my child-your friends is my daughter, okay? I’m really flattered by your attraction but…it’s not right. I’m sorry, Steve, you need to go to sleep now. And let’s just ignore this conversation, okay”, you tried to be gentle with your words but still saw some tears well up in his eyes.

Hesitatly you stepped between his legs, wrapping your arms around him and pulling into a hug. His head immediately rested against your stomach, right below your breasts as he sniffed quietly. Not wanting to make it any harder for him…and maybe also yourself…you pulled away.

While leaving the living room your couldn’t stop yourself from looking over your shoulder at him, meeting his gaze. You immediately looked away again and walked to your room.

This time it was much harder to fall asleep.

In the morning you quietly made some scrambled eggs and beacon, trying to ignore the feeling rising up in your chest when Steve woke up from the smell and a smile appeared on his lips, you noticed it, because you were watching him from the open kitchen. You could see him perfectly. And it broke your heart.

He rubbed his eyes tiredly, feeling a bit of a headache, especially remembering the conversation with you. Oh god. Had he really did it? Said he wanted to be with you?

You noticed how Steve blushed and when he looked up at you, your eyes meeting, your own face started burning. As quick and nonchalant as possible you looked away.

Only a few minutes later Stacy came to the kitchen and you sat down together to eat breakfast. All this time you tried to ignore Steve even though you still felt his gaze on you.

After finishing the food it was time for him to leave and stacy decided to drive him, so she quickly went to her room to get ready. Meanwhile steve stayed with you in the kitchen, putting the dishes away.

“About yesterday…I’m sorry. For everything…I still stand by it, but I shouldn’t have be so pressing-“ “Steve, don’t worry. I get it…in a way, at least. You’re a very sweet boy, but I’m too old for you. It can’t happen”, You explained friendly, smiling at him before looking once again.

You felt Steve step a bit closer to you, the warmth of his body radiating. “Is…is there really no chance? Not even a small one? Please…”, he whispered, his hand gently touching your arm.

Steve noticed how you got goosebumps as soon as he touched you. A nervous chuckle escaped your lips as you patted his arm gently, yearning Stacy walking down the stairs.

“Yeah, sure Steve, come back when you’re twenty one”, you joked quietly, stepping away again just in time for Stacy to walk into the kitchen. “Okay-we can go!”

With that Steve looked at you one last time before disappearing. Not only did he leave your house that day, but also walked out of your life forever.

Or so you thought.

In the first few weeks you had thought about him more than you should. About his pretty smile and the beautiful blues. About his graduation and which college he chose. About if you’d ever see him again, which you knew you shouldn’t.

Months later you stopped thinking about him so often. There were a few evenings where you thought about him, sure, but less and less…

And then the years went by and Steve became one of Stacys old highschool friends that she hadn’t talked to in a long time.

So it surprised you to say the least when you heard the doorbell, interrupting your quiet moment of reading. You were so concerned on the book you jumped slightly, putting your book down and walking to the door. In this time the doorbell rang again. “Jesus, so inpatient…”, you mumbled to yourself, opening the door.

Your breath hitched.

Your heartbeat immediately speeding up.

In the first second you didn’t even recognise him.

He was bigger. His shoulder so broad you weren’t sure if he’d fit in the door, taller than before and…a beard. Wow.

He changed a lot.

But his beautiful eyes stayed the same. The same bright blue.

“Steve? What-“ “You said to come back when I’m twenty one…so, can I take you out on a proper date now?”, he interrupted you, holding out his ID for you to look over.

He was indeed twenty one. Today was his birthday.

Pt 2

Thank you for reading!

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[chaoskirin]

Today, While I was in the middle of typing an email, Microsoft Outlook 365 popped up a window demanding feedback. And boy did I have shit to say.

I had to keep the swearing out, because apparently any report I make is duplicated and sent to the IT department. But the text I ended up sending follows:

---

God, I have so much to tell you. Thank you for giving me the opportunity. First: Stop messing with everything. Outlook works fine, but you keep changing things that don't need changing. Moving buttons around. Turning on features that I have explicitly turned off for not working before. Just today, you turned on the auto-suggestions again, which would be great if it actually worked. Instead, when it suggests anything you don't accept, it just mashes words together. Do you know how it feels to be typing a professional email and you miss one of those failures and send your email anyway? I mean, to be fair, I caught ten, so I still got a 90% on the ol' Microsoft-sanctioned-typo-factory. But the person I emailed doesn't see it that way, do they? They see that I mashed three words together like there was a wasp on the space bar.

Plus, my signature keeps getting deleted. Not just switched to nothing, but completely deleted. Which means I have to re-make that every time your developers get bored and decide to re-haul a program that absolutely never needs re-hauling. I remember once a couple months ago the attachment button just disappeared, and there was no way for me to attach a final bill. I had to actually use my personal gmail address to send an email to a customer because for about 16 hours, it was impossible to attach anything.

But, you say, I should have sent error reports. And I did. But the question in my mind always comes back to "why are you messing with something that does not need changing?" The only thing that ever happens is that you change aesthetics. Colors. This time the boxes are gone. Do you think you're at risk of losing customers? Do you think you have to keep things new and fresh? No. People are shackled to you. You have a quasi-monopoly and a stranglehold on a whole lot of workflows. People cannot leave you. In the world of word processing and spreadsheets, you are Alcatraz. You don't have to change things to keep people here.

Instead, long-time bugs continue to plague everything I do within this hell-suite of software. Sometimes when I try to start typing in the body of the email, outlook decides that, no, I don't want to type an email! I want to send the other emails in my inbox to the archive, where, if I don't notice this, they will sit and fester forever. There's also the bug where I create an email and it duplicates it and puts it in my drafts. Or the bug where it just creates a blank email and puts it in my drafts. Do you want to know how many blank emails I've deleted from my drafts folder? There are not enough numbers in existence to count this.

If you REALLY want to know how to improve Outlook and this message isn't just going into the wilderness like all those notebooks from the hit-TV-show-where-nobody-liked-the-ending, LOST, then please. Listen. From the bottom of my heart and from the top of my lungs: Stop changing everything. Nothing needs changing. Just run a good service. Get your programmers onto fixing longstanding bugs instead of trying to make an email and scheduling program look like a fashion show in Paris.

And if I seem a little ticked off in this message, it's because your request for feedback popped up in the middle of me compiling an email, which was just about halfway done. Outlook, in all its wisdom, decided that I didn't actually need that email and went ahead and deleted all the text in it. All of it. So after I finish giving you an earful, I'm going to have to retype it.

Hope this helps. Have a wonderful day.

[secretlywritingstories]

Ten years passes faster than you realise. I started watching YouTube properly from summer of 2013 and one of the very first YouTubers I found was Connor Franta. Then 1,5 years later, he came out as gay. That's exactly ten years ago today.

He made a video to remark on that decade past where he talked about how he hardly recognised himself in his old videos. And emphasised how much he appreciated being gay because of the perspective that it gives him.

Connor was arguably my first YouTuber "crush" because I thought that he was cute and funny and I found his videos drawing me in. He sparked my interest for the whole vlogger thing, which lead me to following a whole hoard of vloggers pretty consistently from 2013-2018.

I didn't know that he was gay when I first started watching. I didn't know I was queer when I started watching him (which is the important part). Throughout 2014, I started to wonder if he might be gay, but I still remember the elated feeling in my chest when the coming out video hit my inbox.

It fit, for the lack of a better world. A filter flicked off as he addressed us. It felt right. Even as he'd made himself into being this boy next door who talked about relationship stuff and girls a lot. And his content has changed a lot in the following decade, but it also didn't. I still watch all his videos because I enjoy his perspective. If anything, I enjoy it so much more because he's also queer.

Him reflecting on that time in his life, a decade ago when he decided to upload that coming out video, without knowing the ripple effects it could cause for him and his audience, pulled me right into self-reflection alongside him.

I watched the coming out video ten years younger, still merely believing myself an ally to the LBGTQ+ community. I was about halfway through my bachelor and I had no idea what I wanted to do. I had only just started posting fic on Wattpad mere months before.

And now I'm here and queer. Having gone through micro labels that helped me feel belonging, only to mostly embrace umbrella terms now. Gender as funky as my sexuality. I've finished my masters five years ago and I've been working at my current job for 3,5 years. I've got a decade of fics under my belt and nearly 200 works and 4 million words to show for it.

I still don't know what the fuck I'm doing with my life but I'm embracing all of the good things in it. My family, my friends (many that I've made through getting into YouTubers and subsequently Dan and Phil), my pets, my interests and my writing.

And there's still so much life ahead of me. I'm not someone to think 5 or 10 years ahead because that's frankly terrifying as fuck, but looking back gives me hope for the future. And I'm thankful I've always let myself dive nose-first into my interests because they've always brought so much love. I can't imagine what my life would be like without discovering those early Connor Franta videos and all the domino effect that's followed since then.

I didn't know either of us was gay when I found him, but maybe life works in strange ways. Maybe my queer heart resonated with his gay one. I'm proud of him. I'm proud of me. And while I don't like looking too closely to the future, I shall still leave this: May the next decade be kind to both of us!

[thetargaryenbride]

Nail To The Coffin - S4 - Chapter 1

Warnings: unwanted groping, nightmares

Pairing: Steve Harrington x f!Byers!Reader

Word Count: 5070

𝐀𝐍: 𝘏𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘦 𝘨𝘰! 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘴𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘰𝘯 4! 𝘞𝘦'𝘳𝘦 𝘨𝘰𝘯𝘯𝘢 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘯 𝘥𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘰𝘯 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘨𝘰𝘯𝘯𝘢 𝘣𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘣𝘪𝘨. 𝘠𝘰𝘶'𝘭𝘭 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘐 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘯. 𝘐'𝘮 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘧 𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘸𝘰 𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘐 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘰𝘯 4 𝘱𝘭𝘰𝘵. 𝘐'𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘌𝘥𝘥𝘪𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘴. 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘴𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘰𝘯 5 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘴, 𝘐'𝘭𝘭 𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘸𝘰 𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵~ 𝘐𝘵'𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘢 𝘥𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵'𝘴 𝘨𝘰𝘯𝘯𝘢 𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘯 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘶𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦.

𝐀𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬, 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐝𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐢𝐟 𝐈’𝐯𝐞 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐜𝐞𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐎𝐎𝐂 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐛𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲. 𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨. 𝘏𝘰𝘱𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘪𝘵! 🖤 🥀

Masterlist || S3, Chapter 9 || Chapter 2

LA, California, The Spring of 1986

“Dear Mike. Today is day one hundred eighty-five. Feels more like ten years. Joyce says time is funny like that. Emotions can make it speed up or slow down. We are all time travelers if you think about it. For example, this week is going very fast. I think because I’m so busy. I have to make something called a visual aid. I hope Mrs. Gracey will give me an A. Some exciting news. Joyce got an amazing new job. She gets to work at home. She says she loves the ‘freedom’. Will is painting a lot but he won’t show me what he’s working on. Maybe it is for a girl. I think there’s someone he likes because he has been acting weird. Jonathan is acting weird also. I think he’s just nervous about college. He is still waiting for his big letter. I hope he and Nancy get to go together. But I don’t know how he’ll get to college because his car is still broken. His funny friend Argyle has been taking us to school whenever Y/N can’t. His hair is longer than mine. And he and Jonathan like to smoke smelly plants together. Will got very angry when he found out. In fact, I don’t remember Will ever getting this mad at someone.”

Two Months Ago

“See you guys at dinner,” you waved at the two once they got out of the car and they bid you goodbye, watching you drive away, most probably heading to work or to do some other tasks. You had just dropped them off at home after finishing the classes for the day and the two were excited to get to their rooms, plop on their beds, and sleep until dinner, ignoring your words of ‘Don’t slack on your homework’.

But the moment they entered the house, a strange scent hit them, like someone was cooking something and had just taken the lid off just to be hit with the strong, smelly steam.

“Do you smell that?” asked Will as he sniffed, scrunching up his nose, and El frowned.

“It’s… weird.”

The boy threw his bag on the ground and followed the smell, El close behind, until it led him to his brother’s room. His hand grasped the doorknob and he gulped before slowly twisting it open, the sound of creaking filling the air.

“Wha-“ muttered the boy when he saw that pretty much the whole room was covered in smoke and at first he thought Jonathan might have accidentally lit something on fire. Then his eyes found his brother who was sitting at the edge of the bed near the window, smoking. And by the smell of it, Will immediately figured out that those weren’t normal cigarettes which hurtled him into a state of utter disbelief.  

“Will-“ his brother was about to say but the boy in question turned to look at Eleven instead.

“El, could you give us a moment, please?” he asked the girl and she nodded slowly, eyebrows furrowed in confusion, before sneaking out of the room but staying glued to the wall so she could listen, curiosity overtaking her.

“It’s not what you think it is,” began Jonathan after Will shut the door and looked at him with such disappointment it pierced his heart like a rusty harpoon.

“What is wrong with you!? Are you out of your mind!?” raised his voice Will. “Why are you doing this? You know very well what Y/N went through. Even before the Flayer made her OD she’s been taking drugs for a long time. She’s clean now but you remember what Dr. Owens said!” reminded him the boy heatedly and Jonathan’s mouth opened and closed, unable to form words or find an excuse for his actions. “She can easily have a relapse and go back to taking drugs! Why are you smoking this shit? It’s not like she doesn’t already have a constant reminder of the hell she went through. Do you want to add up to it!?” his voice kept raising as he got more and more upset, and Jonathan looked at the floor, guilt visibly eating up at him.

“I’m sorry, I just,” sighed the boy regretfully. “I’ve been going through shit and…Argyle offered I try this. It’s been…truly helpful and I can’t find it in me to stop,” he admitted with sad eyes, and Will let out a long pained sigh, flabbergasted at his brother’s confession.

“We should-w-we should tell mom or Dr. Owens,” said the boy and Jonathan’s eyes widened, hands lifting as if he was about to protest. “This is a problem. A big problem in development. You need to get help. You need to stop this, a-and find another way to cope. We can’t risk Y/N having a relapse and we can’t risk you following in her footsteps,” spoke the boy with a shaky voice he was trying hard to keep firm and steady and his brother shook his head.

“No, no, I promise, this is not something dangerous, okay? It’s the same shit Eddie smokes! Okay? It’s not going to harm me. I swear! A-and I’ll try to hide it better! Y/N is not going to find out! She’s not even going to take a whiff of this shit, okay? I promise,” begged Jonathan and Will’s eyes darted left and right, frustration and concern gnawing at him, leg bouncing anxiously as he was being torn apart by the dilemma he was currently forced to face.

“I’ll…I’ll give you some time to stop smoking on your own…If you don’t do it in the next couple of months I’ll…I’ll tell mom.”

Those were his last words before he whirled on his heel and stormed out of the room, shutting the door with a deafening bang that made both Jonathan and Eleven flinch.

They have never seen the boy so mad and upset at someone else.

“He was very worried about Y/N and I understand him. I eavesdropped on them, which I’m not proud of, but I needed to know what was going on. I was worried too. I’m telling you now because it’s been two months so far and he’s still smoking those things. Me and Will don’t know what to do. Maybe you can give us some advice? Please, don’t tell the others, though. I don’t want Joyce or Y/N to find out. Speaking of Y/N… I know that you’re all worried and want to know more but…I’m still not sure if she’s gotten better or worse in the past months since the incident…Well, I guess it’s more of a year than a couple of months now. I can’t believe how fast time flies…”

“I’m home!” your voice resonated throughout the house and El gasped as if you had just caught her doing something she shouldn’t be, and she quickly finished the last couple of sentences before sealing up the letter properly and running down the stairs to greet you.

“Welcome home,” she grinned when she saw you in the kitchen, jacket, boots, and bag already gotten rid of, as you were in the midst of opening the fridge to take out some products and get dinner started.

“Is this another letter for Mike?” you asked curiously and she nodded. “Hang in there a bit more. Spring break is just around the corner and you’ll see him soon,” you smiled softly and she nodded, rushing out of the house in order to shove the item into the mailbox.  

But her excitement got crushed after she closed the metal lid and faced the house, thoughts rushing back to what she had written in the letter. She and Will truly worried about Jonathan and they truly had no idea how to handle the current situation. Moreover, they were worried about you.

You began smiling again but it never quite reached your eyes as it did before, and there was now a certain air of melancholia that you carried – a constant companion of yours alongside the dark circles under your eyes and the hollow cheeks after losing quite some weight since the incident last summer.

They found themselves stuck at a crossroad where numerous paths intertwined and they didn’t know which one was the right one. They didn’t know which one to take to help you and Jonathan.

“Honey, why don’t you leave the dinner to me and you can go rest instead?” Joyce offered while you were busy cutting some onions and you hummed.

“Well…let me at least finish chopping the veggies and you can take over,” you agreed, making her smile. “I’ll go for a swim then,” you told her and her smile faltered a tad bit.

“You sure you’ll be okay alone out there?” she asked slowly, unsurely, and you let out a light snort.

“Mom, I’m good. I promise.”

“But-“ she sighed in defeat, knowing that she couldn’t stop you from going to the water no matter what she tried, and just relented. “Alright.”

Just half an hour later, she was watching you exit the house in your surf attire and with the board in arm, sharing concerned looks with Will, who had joined them in the kitchen shortly after you had gone to change out of your clothes, and El.

“Should we… tell Dr. Owens?”

“No…let her be.”

“Here again?” asked one of the lifeguards from his station the moment you reached the beach and you shot him a look that made him smile and lift his hands in surrender. “I know, I know. Just sayin’, doll.”

You let out a sigh of contentment at the way the sand grains felt when you curled your toes around them and took a couple of steps forward so the water could wash over them. You basked in the sun rays for a while before marching into the ocean and climbing on your board, using your hardened-from-practice arms to swim further into the soothing embrace of the water.

At the end of summer last year, your mother had been solid in her decision to move to another town. In the end, she had settled for LA because you were going to university there and she was adamant in her want to be there with you, just like the rest of your family was.

Dr. Owens, bless his heart, had agreed to lend you a hand. He had found you a beautiful house in a nice and quiet neighborhood where you could live in peace and stay low under the radar for Eleven’s safety. At the same time, you’d be able to go to university for your lections and then go back home to your family instead of being separated from them and having to live amongst strangers in some sorority. As if finding you a house wasn’t enough already, Owens made sure that it was fully furnished so the only things you had to take with you were your clothes and personal items. All of your furniture were back home in Hawkins, in your house which you didn’t end up selling because you had aggressively insisted that you wanted to have a place to come back to.

“You have been saving our bums for so long, and this year you might have as well saved the whole country. The least I can do is get you a nice house and help you keep this one,” had said the doctor which had made you immensely happy and grateful.

At first, moving in was hard. The first two months in particular were extremely rough – probably one of the hardest moments in your life. It had reached a point where you didn’t want to even look at the ocean. Then, it’s like someone flipped the switch in you, and being near the water turned into a coping mechanism.

Now you couldn’t imagine being away from it.

“You’re rocking it, sweet cheeks,” commented the lifeguard once you finally left the confines of the water, a tanned hand ruffling his golden curls as he flashed you a pearly white smile, looking you up and down with his bright blue eyes. He was the typical Californian handsome guy who every girl fawned over.

But in your eyes, Steve was unbeatable.  

“And I’m still taken, Ronnie,” you huffed out as you squeezed your hair off of the excess liquid and he shrugged.

“A boy can try.”

“See you tomorrow,” you bid him goodbye with a wave and headed back in the direction of your house, rolling your eyes at what he shouted after you.

“And tell your Harrington that if he doesn’t come here to claim you, someone might steal you right under his nose!”

“Stars shining bright above you…Night breezes seem to whisper "I love you"…”

You found yourself in a room that was dark and cluttered with junk, closely resembling an attic. Somehow, it felt both familiar and unfamiliar. You turned around to get a better look at it, ears straining to hear the faint sound of music that was wafting through the air like the smell of freshly baked morning waffles, instantly making you feel a bit better about being all alone in the dark, calming you down.

“Birds singin' in the sycamore trees…Dream a little dream of me…”

Suddenly, the door opened, allowing a bit of light to pierce the darkness, and in entered a little boy, carrying a jar with something inside that you couldn’t quite put your finger on. He stilled when he saw you, eyes widening. Even in the dark, you could see how blue they were but also how sullen. His shocked expression melted into a scowl that didn’t quite suit his gentle features, and you reached out a hand, wishing to grasp his.

Then, the room began filling with water rapidly. The stable house began tearing apart plank by plank and you desperately tried to reach the boy and save him. He just stood there, unmoving, and watched on curiously until he got fully submerged and panic gripped at your heart. Shortly after, there was no sign of the house or the boy and you found yourself floating in the vast blue ocean.

At first, you didn’t get scared. You were confident in your swimming skills. But never mind how much you tried to swim to the surface, you wouldn’t budge. In fact, it seemed as if you were sinking more and more rather than reaching it. Your lungs burned and ached as you were running out of breath, the stale oxygen begging to be released and replaced by fresh one.

And then the panic settled in once again and you began kicking and trashing in your attempts at getting to the surface but yet again you kept sinking lower and lower, the light disappearing as you were once again shrouded in darkness. Vines wrapped around your ankles and pulled you down, down under, and the last thing you saw in the dark abyss before drowning was a set of familiar blue eyes glaring at you.

“Y/N!” someone yelled and your eyes snapped open as you shot up in bed and felt hands grasp your upper arms. “Breathe,” they instructed you. “Breathe!”

Only then did you realize you had been holding your breath, allowing only very small gulps of oxygen to pass through, your body so tense as if you had just jumped into ice-cold waters, every muscle in your body squeezed painfully.

You took a large gulp of air and felt instant relief fill you as you tried relaxing your body and focusing on calming your breathing.

“That’s right. In and out, slowly,” Will rubbed your back with one hand while the other held yours, eyes swimming with worry and lips folding as he gulped down the lump that had formed in his throat, his rapidly beating heart finally calming. For a moment he thought it was going to jump out of his ribcage.

“Thank you,” you breathed out as you leaned on his shoulder and let out a long exhale.

His room was right next to yours and the walls were thin enough. He had woken up when he heard loud, elaborated breathing and choking, and had immediately sprung out of bed and dashed to your room. This wasn’t the first time something like that would happen so he knew right away.

“Was it the same dream?” he inquired and you nodded.

“I just don’t understand,” you muttered as you pulled away and rubbed your temples. “I’m sorry for waking you. And thanks again.”

“Can I-Can I stay?” he asked timidly and suddenly all you could see was the baby brother who would always come to you after a bad dream.

“Of course, you can,” you smiled tiredly as you scooted over to make room for him and he climbed in properly, the two of you lying down.

Honestly, he was more scared about something happening to you again than anything, so he wanted to stay and make sure the rest of the night would pass by without any more nightmares or panic attacks.

“Aww, you don’t fit in my arms anymore,” you chuckled after you tried to wrap your arms around him and bring him in for a hug. “You’ve grown so much it’s unbelievable.”

“I guess…But if it weren’t for you, Jonathan, mom, and the others, I might not have gotten the chance to grow up at all. I mean…my point is… I don’t know what I’d do without you… and the others,” he muttered softly and you clicked your tongue, running your hand through his hair soothingly. “So, please don’t-“ he cut himself off because what was he supposed to say?

Please, don’t go? Please, don’t die? Please, don’t have panic attacks anymore? Please, don’t have episodes that could end up hurting you? It’s not like you had control over it. But it didn’t hurt to wish for you to be healthy and happy. It didn’t hurt to wish for all of this to never have happened and for everything to be like it used to. Mostly, he just wished that you were okay because he was afraid one day you would be swallowed by the trauma, leaving him alone. Every time you’d get panic attacks or other episodes, he’d feel like he was going mad with worry. Every time, he’d think of the worst possible scenario, and this constant paranoia and worry and fear were going to be the end of him.

He just wanted it to be over and everything to be normal again.

“Don���t go down this rabbit hole. Trust me, it never ends well,” you whispered and he hummed, closing his eyes.

“I’m just…scared,” he confessed and your eyebrows furrowed.

“Scared? Of what, baby?”

“I don’t know. It’s like…I have this gnawing feeling that something bad will happen…Please, don’t go to Hawkins,” he pleaded and you sighed.

“You know that I want to see Steve. It’s been some time,” you reminded and he just buried his head in the crook of your neck, making you release a long, heavy exhale and rub his back reassuringly.

“You’re thinking too much about it…I’m sure everything is going to be okay.”

Yet you didn’t believe your own words for a second.

“Wonderful assignment once again,” praised the professor as he casually strolled to your desk and passed you the graded paper. “I’m very proud of you, Miss Byers. But honestly, I’m not surprised. You are yet to present something unrefined, although something tells me you never will,” he grinned at you widely, dimples deepening, dark eyes crinkling into crescents, and you smiled.

“Thank you.”

Just then, the bell rang and the students who had received their papers back stood up and began gathering their things while the others stayed put to wait for the professor to hand them theirs.

“Not you, Byers. I need to talk to you. Stay in the room,” halted you the man and you stopped by his desk, waiting a couple of minutes until everyone left the vicinity and you were the only one left.

“I haven’t done anything wrong, have I?” you asked and he shook his head while rolling up the sleeve of his black shirt, and came to stand by your side, nonchalantly throwing a folder onto his desk.

“I wanted to show you this,” he pointed at it with his head, the silver earring on his left ear glinting on the light, and you turned your back on him, taking a step forward and opening the folder, eyes widening at the documents that lay inside.

“Hold on…is this-“

“I’ll be traveling to a couple of archeological sites in Egypt this summer and I’ll be taking a couple of students from the higher courses so they can experience the real deal of digging,” he explained. “You showed incredible knowledge at the beginning of the year so we transferred you to second year. And even then it seemed like you knew half the things already. Such a prodigy is only going to waste away stuck in here. You gotta go out there and gain some more experience. Those are all the documents you need for the practice program.”

“That’s…that’s incredible,” you muttered and he hummed.

And suddenly, you felt his presence too close for comfort. The hairs on your neck stood on end but before you could turn around, his front pressed against your back as he casually rested his chin on your shoulder and rubbed his nose against the side of your neck, inhaling your scent.

Your whole body froze, thighs clenching tightly in automatic response, as memories from that night at the diner invaded your mind.

“What are you doing?” you breathed out.  

“I can’t let you go just yet, though. You’re just…too inexperienced,” he murmured. “But I can help with that. You’re a smart girl. You know how one gets to the top, don’t you?” he asked as his hands began roaming over your body, groping you, and you just stood there in shock and denial, not knowing what to do.

In your mind, you were screaming.

You did not expect that your funny, bubbly, smart professor who seemed to get along with everyone and had a sassy sense of humor and a way of roasting stupid people, was actually a total douchebag in disguise.

In your mind, you were screaming for Steve, for Eddie, for your brothers, for Hopper, to come and help you get out of this sticky situation.

And then it dawned on you.

Hopper.

He hadn’t spent all this time teaching you how to fight and defend yourself just so you could fall victim to nasty men again.

You took a sharp inhale and slammed your thick-heeled boot against his ankle, making him yelp and take a step back. You took that to your advantage and quickly turned around, gathering all determination, anger, and hurt you could, and delivered a swift punch to his jaw. He staggered and fell against one of the desks, hand immediately going to nurse his aching area. In the meantime, you took the folder with the documents and put more distance between you two.

The moment you exited, your calm façade shattered and you let out shaky breaths as you tried to compose yourself and keep the upcoming panic attack at bay. You shoved the folder in your bag before adjusting your hold on it, shouldering it properly as you walked down the hallway.

“Thank you for arranging everything for me. But I’d rather go with Professor Xavier. If you can accept me into your summer practice program, I’m sure he’ll have no problem accepting me into his... Have a good day,” you muttered as you took a couple of steps backwards, while he watched on with a stupefied expression, before completely turning around and briskly walking out of the classroom.

Everything seemed to be moving in slow motion around you and you couldn’t help but think that people were looking at you, laughing at you, whispering about you as they passed you by, covering their mouths with their hands and leaning to utter vile words in each other’s ears, eyes never leaving your form.

It felt as if they all knew what had just happened and thought of you as a dirty person, blamed you, thought you provoked him somehow. If you had a skirt, you would’ve pulled it down. But you had jeans instead. You didn’t understand how and why it happened. Have you done something to evoke such a reaction? Have you done something that made him think you’d agree to something like this?

Why were men like this? Why were they so filthy? So self-centered? Why did they think everything and everyone had to abide by them? Why did they think they had a right to do whatever they wanted without facing consequences? As if women weren’t human beings.

They disgusted you sometimes.

You had to keep reminding yourself that not everybody was like Steve, Eddie, your brothers, the rest of the party, Hopper. How different would’ve the world been if they were, though?

You saw yet another pair of girls pass you by, their eyes burning your flesh as they whispered something, and you quickly pulled the sleeves of your leather jacket and shifted your arm out of their range of vision as your pace increased.

You just wanted to hide somewhere and breathe. You wanted to be able to breathe properly and freely because that’s something you hadn’t been able to do since the incident last summer.

You couldn’t wait for spring break to come because at least then you’d get to spend time with Steve and the others who you missed dearly. Maybe going back to Hawkins and spending time with them was what you needed to finally have a breakthrough and get that gulp of fresh air that you craved so you could finally move on and heal those wounds that you were unable to prior to now.

You wanted to finally go back home.

“So, how was your day?” Joyce asked, now your turn having come to share how your day went, and you shrugged, shoving a spoonful of chicken soup in your mouth and making everyone share a look. “Honey, you’re awfully quiet today. Is everything alright?” your mom asked again and you sighed, forcing a smile.

“It’s…more than alright, actually,” you began. “It seems my professors hold me-” you gulped and clenched and unclenched your hands nervously. “-in high regard. They offered me to accompany them on a couple of archeological trips, part of a summer practice program for the higher-course students,” you explained as you tried to force down the nauseating feeling that flooded you.

“What? But that’s wonderful!” exclaimed your mother, grinning from ear to ear and the rest smiled brightly.

“I knew you could do it! Never doubted you for a second,” El added and suddenly it wasn’t that hard to keep up the fake smile if it meant that your family would be happy and at ease. Besides, it’s not like you were lying. You were simply…not telling the whole story.

“Thank you…I can’t wait to tell Steve and the others.”

“I’m sure they’ll be ecstatic. Eddie especially is going to jump up and down, I just know it,” joined Jonathan and you chuckled.

“I can already form an image. But anyways, did you guys know that when you're underwater sound bypasses your eardrum and the bones of your middle ear and travels to the inner ear? This is called bone conduction and it apparently allows us to hear sounds underwater that are much higher in pitch than those we hear on land,” you rambled on and Jonathan, who was still high, scrunched up his face as he tried to concentrate on what you were saying, staring at you with dumb expression, and Will kicked his foot under the table, making him jump a little. “In one study, participants were able to hear frequencies as high as 200,000 hertz underwater, which is ten times higher than the top frequency that people are able to hear on land. Being underwater just seems magical, doesn't it?”

“Honey, you're getting more and more into this...whole marine thing. Are you considering becoming a maritime archaeologist or something?” asked Joyce curiously, eyebrows raised, and you shrugged.

“I'm actually...not sure about that yet,” you looked down at your bowl, swaying the spoon left and right, forming patterns in the soup. “I'm still fascinated by Egypt and other ancient civilizations and I wish to explore the old history of our world that's been buried and hidden. But one day perhaps, I wouldn't mind exploring the ocean too. After all, a lot of land got swallowed by the water throughout the centuries. Imagine what you can find down there,” you hummed as you scooped some of the liquid and popped the spoon in your mouth.

“Well, I can't,” slurred Jonathan. “I feel like I'd just suffocate the moment I dive in.”

“And since when are you claustrophobic?” you arched a brow and Will sighed, rubbing his temple in exasperation at his brother’s recklessness and irresponsibility.

“Okay, guys, let’s finish this up quickly,” ushered them Joyce, noticing something out of the ordinary in Jonathan’s and your behavior but choosing to let it slide for now and not pressure her children into talking about it, while pouring some refreshing lemonade in each of your glasses. “We gotta go to bed early today if we want Y/N to be on time for her flight tomorrow.”

“It’s kinda funny, isn’t it?” El tilted her head. “Mike is coming here tomorrow and Y/N is leaving. They’re gonna pass each other.”

“Yeah, honestly I regret that I won’t be able to see him but who knows? We might still get an opportunity.”

The only person who deflated at the mention of Mike’s arrival and your department and didn’t seem to be excited about it at all, the only person who wasn’t as bubbly and hyper as the others because he had a horrible, gnawing feeling that wouldn’t let him be at peace, was Will.

He just played with his food and silently watched the others converse, worried eyes following your form as if afraid you were going to be swallowed by the sand.

He did not want you to return to Hawkins.

__________________________

Tags: @anxiousbeech @ooenjoythesilenceoo

[p1nkwitch]

Here me out. 10 for that prompt list and Lonelyeyes.

Sorry it took me this long! Between lonelyeyes week and having to finish the good omens au, i was busy. Anyhow!! Here you go i had a fun writting this.

10.  “you died and left me on the hook for a hereditary marriage contract”

Peter was furious, he read the paper in his hand, over and over again, till eventually he crumpled it in his hands and put it inside his pocket. He quickly put on his coat and went to the Magnus Institute at a quick pace. 

The letter had been clear, there was no line that he could use to escape, no loophole. He even called his uncle on the way there, wanting to check just in case, but Nathaniel merely let out a sigh and told him it was in fact a clause that Mordechai had signed up with Jonah Magnus many years ago. It just so happened that no other head of the institute had any need to call upon it till now. James Wright instilled his right to it and now Peter was seemingly stuck. Cursing loudly he hangs up on his uncle telling him to keep it cool.

When he finally arrives at the building, he takes no time at all to make his way to the office of the new head of the place. Elias Bouchard.

Peter had liked James, in fact he had fancied him quite a bit, before his death, the two of them had a bit of a relationship. Which was fine by him, Peter came and went to the sea and back to land to spend some time with James whom he held fond feelings for. Quite…romantic in kind in all honesty.

He flushes just thinking about it. Unfortunately they were still working for opposing forces, therefore they were very prone to fights, so in his last trip, they got into a big one. Things were said. Peter left to simmer on his feelings for the next ten months, expecting to get back to James with a cool head. Unfortunately by the time he did come back he was informed the man was dead and he missed the funeral as well.

It really just…well it shook him quite badly, enough that he refused to go to the institute at all to meet the new head of the place. Telling Nathaniel he was done with it and to find someone else.

That of course didn't seem to work for long, because now he got this stupid bloody letter!

Peter grumbles but he struggles to remember where the office is, he tends to get lost easily in the stupid building and the sensation of being watched made him feel sick, enough that it distracted him too much to properly know his location. Eventually he finds someone from staff who points him to the right direction and so he finds himself in front of James' office.

Rosie tries to stop him but he starts to use the lonely when she picks up her phone and tells him after a few seconds that Elias shall see him. He quickly enters and closes the door behind him.

The man in front of him was sitting behind his desk with a set of glasses that were slightly sliding off his nose, they were red rimmed, which contrasted a lot with his dark gray suit.

“Ah, Mr. Lukas I was not expecting you today, what can I do for you sir?” 

He almost deflates. Elias was at most a couple of years younger than Peter, maybe barely hitting his thirties. He was shorter than him, which he noticed when the man stood up and pointed to the seat in front of him. The feeling of being seen was present so at least the man knew what he was or James picked someone with promise for the spot.

Thinking of James makes his head hurt for a very specific reason.

“What you can do is get rid of this” He takes the crumpled paper from his pocket and slams it on the desk, sliding it towards Elias who picks it up and reads it. His eyebrows raise till eventually he looks up at him with a blank expression.

“This is a bit of a surprise to be honest, but unfortunately…i can't do anything about it. I legally cannot undo the contract”

Peter chest burns.

“You cannot expect me to think its ok for James to pawn me off to you! We aren't in the 18 or early 19 century. We don't arrange arranged marriages anymore!”

Elias makes a sort of motion with his hand. “Maybe not here but its technically not-”

Peter glares at him. “I'm not going to marry you because James lost his mind before he died” He doesn't like looking people in the eyes, it's horrendous, instead Peter stares at the spot between their eyes. This is why he notices how Elias' expression turns pinched and his mouth turns slightly downwards at his outburst.

“Mr.Wright was under all his faculties before his untimely demise Mr.Lukas. A heart attack is a heart attack, not a reason to question his sanity. Albeit its quite the shock that he thought about this. He did mention you to me, as he was training me. I presumed you two were close from the way he spoke of you…very hm, yes fond”

Peter shivers and steps back feeling that horrible sensation of eyes raking over his skin, of being known.

“Knock it off. He did not-”

But Elias nods and walks around the desk to stand in front of him.

“He did, I was very curious about what sort of person he would talk so fondly of, you know? Ah it was a pity when i found out you were quitting your place as the representative of your family, i wanted to meet you. Albeit of course also not under this circumstances”

Peter feels a mix between shame and…and he is not sure. Especially as Elias' hands landed on his coat's lapel, he was fixing up his lapels and letting his hands linger for a bit. Making his skin crawl and his face burn. Elias is handsome. He will give him that, he also has sharp eyes, the same color as James too, a very cool shade of gray.

Still-!

“Listen, I'm not the sort of person you get to know, that's not how I work, but even less so…I don't do arranged marriages! Why would James even think this is a good idea to begin with at all?!” Elias tilts his head and says he doesn't know.

“But it's not such a bad thing isn't it?”

Peter gapes at him.

“What?”

Elias smirks at him, his lip slightly lifting upwards, it was both very nice on his face but also very insufferable.

“Take it as an opportunity, besides i talked to Nathaniel on the phone and he was mentioning something about you perhaps soon having to find a wife, since you were now no longer doing business with the Institute” Peter didn't know-

His face burns in shame about this little bastard knowing so much about him and yet Peter had nothing on him. “He wouldn't-”

A tap on the chest makes him look down at Elias. What a…handsome devil.

“But he would, now as I said, you can call this a blessing in disguise. Arranged as it is, we can make this work. You still travel, and leave for most of the year as you Lukas tend to do. I'm busy and I don't have time to dwell too much in relationships, they all bring me headaches. So…a transaction if you may. A marriage in name but its more of a…collaboration if you will?”

Swallowing a bit he asks carefully what that would entail. Elias smirk gets more wicked and there is something on the way he does it that just tickles the back of his brain. There is something so very…familiar in the motion.

“Well, for one, I do not like your replacement, I can tell you that right now. Conrad is a prick” Peter can't help but snort and smile just a bit, a hint really.

“Yes, that tracks”

Elias' eyes flutter and Peter has to look elsewhere, he is handsome, so what? Peter is still placed in a binding contract between entities and a marriage that he never asked for.

“Still what else? I want to win something out of this whole farce”

Elias walks around him like a predator measuring up with their prey, it makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

“Well, I only want some time to talk, perhaps dinner if you may. It is a marriage, perhaps not conventional or legal yet, but one made by our predecessors and bound by our entities. Quite the thing isn't it? As for you, well, what is more lonely than this? A marriage with no love?”

It is true, but that's not…

What fuels his loneliness is not the complete lack of something, but an absence. Peter is lonely because there is something to miss. An empty relationship as miserable of an affair as that is, doesn't feed his patron at all, because its not making him lonely, just miserable. Fun for a watcher not for Forsaken.

“I'm afraid you are going to need something else to sell it out to me, Mr.Bouchard. That's not how it works for me”

“Oh? And how is that then? Aren't you sad about what happened to Mr. Wright? Isn't it lonely enough to be married to someone else than the person you actually…cared about?” He was sure he was going to say love, in that case Peter would have just sent Elias to the lonely. Clenching his fists he tells him through clenched teeth to watch it.

Elias' eyes narrow and his expression turns wicked.

“Why? Isn't it the truth? Mr.Wright was fond of you but i'm sure he got over it quickly when you left him”

Peter stares and then grabs him by the tie, gripping it tightly as Elias smiles at him. “Grinning little freak, shut up”

“Perhaps that was what did it, you wore down his heart” Peter face twitches and Elias eyes seem to drink it all in. 

“I am going to get rid of this little contract, after all who cares if you are dead right?”

The beholder laughs and grips his wrist tightly with a hand as he leans so close to his face Peter has to step back, yet Elias follows.

“Do that, and I will shove so many memories of other people's lives and their thoughts about you that you will turn into a blubbering mess Peter dear, don't test me. Im being kind darling”

The niggling sensation on the back of his brain intensifies, the tone, the posture, the bossiness.

The eyes.

“Well, its a good thing i dont give a shit about James, he was a douchebag and he had a horrible sense of fashion too, you on the other hand have a nicer look” Elias face turns outraged for a second too long, his eyebrows twitching in consternation. Peter grips him by the jaw. “What the fuck James?!”

His expression turns blank and then resigned before going to be amused. “I suppose I gave my hand away too early, huh? Hello Peter” Oh he is going to kill him for sure. “Oh sod off, you won't”

“Stop messing with my head!”

“Stop making it so easy darling. Put some more effort into shielding those thoughts. Now, about that marriage-”

Peter headbuts him. “You fuck-” Elias is grabbing his forehead, his expression turned into that of outrage. “What is your blood problem-”

“My problem?! You died and left me on the hook for a hereditary marriage contract!!! What the hell is wrong with you! What- How are you alive, what is this? What the bloody hell is going on!”

Things devolve for a while, mostly into Elias explaining while looking sour that he was in fact Jonah Magnus, that he swaps bodies, that he changed his and when Peter did not come to meet his new body he had to find a way to drag him back. He was going to wait till there was a founding party, but Nathaniel did in fact talk about making Peter find a wife soon and Elias…

Oh Elias was possessive. Peter could see it in the way he described his plan and the way he grabbed onto him as they sat on the small loveseat in his office. The way his hands touched him and his lips curved up in smirks that had him flush.

“So I invoked the right to pass you along, honestly Mordechai and I were really drunk when we made that clause back then. Neither of us were actually thinking clearly, it was a wild weekend. What can I say? When you mix your vices and bring in your friends..”

“Ugh, can we not- I dont want to know how you fucked my grandfather. That's just gross”

“Pity”

He glares as a warning so Elias lifts his hands in surrender.

“So…”

Peter holds his face in defeat. “I'm not marrying you. Not now”

There is a long pause, Peter knows what his words mean, the implications. Elias probably can see it too, is likely smirking like the Cheshire cat. 

“Now?”

“Just- just shut up would you? Just…” Peter doesn't want to marry, not now, not like this, let alone not when he is processing a lot of information that he is trying to be cool with in such a short amount of time. “Let me think”

“Be my guest”

Like this he just tries to sort his thoughts and what he found out and eventually he reckons, the best course of action is to keep going as they were. For now at least. “I'm going to continue to work, and drop by to…talk about business”

Elias' expression is guarded, Peter rubs his own jaw deep in thought, the cons about this whole thing are growing, are exponential, this whole thing is wrong and will have dire consequences for him.

Yet the pros….

Well Peter was a gambler at heart. What's life without a bit of spice? Without a bit of a spark to make things interesting? Elias, James, Jonah or whatever he wants to call himself is his spark of chaos. Painful as it is to admit it.

“Dinner? Your place or mine”

He can see the momentary surprise at the acceptance. Soon it flickers into smugness, but Peter brushes it off. 

“Oh? Is that so-”

“Well yes, I haven't gone out with Elias Bouchard yet, perhaps i don't like him, perhaps you are…boring, or perhaps you are interesting enough to keep around. Maybe to even stay over at my flat”

Elias' face is wild. “Maybe i find you boring instead”

Yet Peter shakes his head in fond exasperation. “If you did, you wouldn't have basically trapped both of us into an arranged marriage under the suspicion that I would soon find a wife. So, dinner this friday? Your treat this time since you basically almost made my blood pressure burst”

The chuckle is a mockery, but it suits Elias and its…he has a lovely voice. Charming and low and makes something twist on his gut.

“I can live with that. For now we can be engaged, that at least will keep your family off your back, isn't that great?”

Lord.

“You are so horrible” Elias' hand touches his cheek.

“I am and yet here you are?” 

Here is indeed. Peter tilts his head to brush his lips against his palm, he can see pink on his cheeks for the first time and he really is starting to like the idea of figuring Elias out. He seems more expressive than James. With a hum he leans downwards and kisses him.

Its different but also familiar. He feels arms wrap around his neck and when the kiss deepens a bit too much, Peter retreats and starts to drift into the lonely to meditate a bit about this whole thing.

“Asshole”

Peter laughs this time at the pout on Elias' lips when he begins to slip away from his grasp. “Pot and kettle you utter insane bastard. I'm going to try and process the whole 200 year old dandy thing, now, see you on friday Mr.Bouchard”

Peter is almost gone when he hears him say goodbye.

“-Mr.Lukas, its a pleasure to meet my new fiance”

Peter's face burns all of a sudden as Elias gets the last word in before laughing at him.

Horrible man! 

Yet…it does serve him well.

Enough that in a few years he will propose to him properly this time, with rings and a silly post it note to seal the deal. Curse him for being charming and a bastard, he is weak to such things.

[yellowkitkieran]

Body Shots (Kieran, Martin + reader)

Masterlist

Word Count: 1.5k

Summary: Your situationships with both Martin and Kieran boil over when both boys plot to show you how fun they can be.

Purely self indulgent, based on my favorite trope to ever exist. Beta read by my babe @cfchloe​​

At today's match at the Emirates, your only wish is for Kieran to be subbed on. 

You've entertained a 'will they, won't they' sort of relationship with Kieran for months now. The Scotsman is reluctant to actually make a move thanks to Arteta's strict rules regarding players being forbidden to date staff. 

However, that same rule hasn't stopped the other boy that's shown interest in you, none other than the captain, Martin Ødegaard. He's asked you out twice now but you've politely declined, letting him know you're not interested in anything serious in any sense of the word. Martin being Martin, once he had an explanation he accepted your word as law and backed off, maintaining a playful, flirty relationship with you that you both enjoy. 

In the tunnel whilst you were fixing Kieran's jacket before he headed out, you'd given him a task: if he was subbed on, you wanted him to score. If he couldn't do that then you wanted to see him get an assist, so you could still celebrate him. 

Luck shines down on you when he's on the pitch at the 65th minute, and you fear you'll nearly melt into your seat behind the bench when he glances over at you once he's in position. You're pretty sure you've become a puddle when Kieran flicks his tongue over his lips, hands on his hips while he waits for kick off, eyes locked on yours. 

Kieran gives a hundred and ten percent from the moment the whistle blows. He moves like a demon, twisting past defenders and moving like a wisp on the wind. Each time he has the ball at his feet you're up off your seat, thighs tense with anticipation as you wait for him to shoot. And after a few minutes he crosses it to his right, aiming for Saka and hitting his mark perfectly. 

Nine minutes after coming on, Kieran has completed your request. You aren't surprised; he's been confident lately and you knew he'd make an impact today. You scream yourself hoarse along with every single red-blooded gunner in the stadium, so loud that the ground shakes. 

You don't have the words to describe how proud you are. Even if you're not official, you love knowing that Kieran takes you seriously. 

Martin is the one Kieran looks towards, with a thousand watt smile that shines as brilliant as the sun. Martin's face reflects the same pride you feel in your chest as he heads for his best mate first, hugging him in congratulations and saying something that sparks Kieran's attention. You can just make out the words 'are you serious?' On Kieran's lips, and Martin responds with a nod. When Martin's eyes find you in the crowd, the look he gives you sends a delicious chill down your spine. 

What do those two have up their sleeves?

**********

Three hours later you've joined half the squad at Aaron's house for an after party. A four one win that sees them keep a steady lead at the top of the table is reason enough to have everyone wanting to celebrate, although personally you're more interested in celebrating Kieran. 

The two of you sit on the sofa, heads bent together to hear each other over the music. You spotted Martin when you came in twenty minutes ago but he hasn't come over to say hello yet, probably caught up in making his rounds. 

You finish the drink you'd stolen from Kieran upon your arrival and wipe the back of your hand over your mouth. "Ugh- if we go out to a pub, remind me to not get whatever you have. It's terrible! Doesn't that burn your stomach? Or am I just weak?"

Kieran's laugh sets off butterflies in your stomach and brings a flush to your cheeks. "Lassie, it's only whisky! It's nae that bad! I've had worse honestly- I like the taste!" His hand lands on your thigh and he shakes his head, amused by your inability to hold your liquor. On instinct you cover his hand with your own. You glance around the room to see if anyone notices the touch, worried about being caught and Kieran potentially falling back onto the bench or worse, left out of the squad entirely as punishment for being involved with a member of Arsenal staff.

"Don't look so tense elskling!" Martin leans over the sofa and plants a kiss to the crown of your head. "Everyone here is either far too wrapped up in someone of their own to notice us, or is someone that we can all trust to not go spilling the beans. No one is gonna rat us out, so let's just enjoy ourselves!"

"Us?" 

"Mmhm- that's what I said, love. Didn't you tell Kieran you wanted to celebrate him? That's what we're gonna do." Martin leans forward and fills your glass with a shot of vodka. 

"Um… yes? I guess so?" You have no idea where this is going but from the look the two boys share, you know you'll enjoy it. 

Kieran lightly pats your thigh and his eyes drift over your stomach, left exposed by the tied up Arsenal kit you're wearing. His tongue darts out over his lips and your thighs squeeze together involuntarily, which Kieran notices and grins. 

"Be a good lassie and finish that drink for me love, will you? Martin and I came up with something while we were waiting for you to finally show up." Martin nudges your shoulder as he leans forward, his face inches from yours. He's so close that you can feel his breath on your cheek and it makes you shiver. You knock back the drink without a second thought, slamming the glass on the low table in front of you once you'd finished. 

"Good girl," Martin mumbles in your ear before kissing your cheek. The entire interaction leaves you speechless. What in the world is going on? You've contemplated dating Kieran or Martin for ages, and you know they both want you, but this feels like some sort of fever dream.

Martin comes around to sit on your other side, his arm slung over your shoulder. "You know elskling, Kieran and I were thinking… you won't date either of us right? Because you don't want us to get in trouble. Which we appreciate- butttttt Arteta's rule doesn't say anything about a more casual relationship."

"I-" you struggle to form a coherent thought, let alone a full sentence. Kieran's hand slides closer to your center as he leans in to press a kiss to your jaw, grinning when you let out a deep breath. 

"Dammit boys, you know I want you both! I've told you as much- could you please stop- stop torturing me… Jesus christ Kieran, that's amazing."

The dusting of stubble on Kieran’s face scratches deliciously on your neck as he kisses his way down to your collarbone. He smiles against your skin when he reaches the collar of the red Arsenal kit you wear, pulling it back between his teeth to expose more of your skin. A sharp inhale escapes you when his tongue darts over the hollow of your throat before he pulls away. 

"Kieran-"

"Yes sweetheart? What can I do for you?"

"Nothing- ahh, fuck off Martin!" Martin starts on the opposite side, repeating everything Kieran has just done in the same order. You can't tell if it's the liquor or the boys that you're drunk on, but you're loving every second. By the time Martin finishes his round, your head is spinning and you're certain you need something more from them. 

Martin leans across and grabs two bottles from near Kieran's feet. "Right, I'm doing tequila, mate you still want whisky yeah?" 

"Yeah that's fine with me, anything that'll get me tipsy!"

Martin grins and nods to the table set up for drinking games across the room. No one is currently using it and your stomach flips at the thought of what they're up to.

"Oh that'll work. Sweetheart," Kieran turns to you with a wicked smile that could convince you to do anything, "what do you say you let Martin and I do some shots off you?"

"I- I'm sorry, what?! Are you two insane- actually yes you are!" Both boys laugh and wait for you actual answer, wanting honesty and preferring not to sway your thoughts. Ninety nine percent of you screams yes, but that nagging voice in the back of your head reminds you that you could lose your job. The boys could be benched if anyone here said a word, though they seem confident no one will. And aside from all that… you'd be lying if you said you hadn't thought about the two of them together, fulfilling your own dirty fantasies. 

For once in your life, you decide you want to live for yourself instead of upholding the rule book. Plus you trust Martin's word and if he says you're safe, then you’ll take the risk. "Fuck it- yeah let's go!"

You fear your heart might burst out of your chest as you and your dynamic duo get settled in. You lay on the table they've cleared for you face up, knees bent, shoes sticking to the sugar-stained surface. Kieran's fingers brush your exposed stomach, leaving a trail of goosebumps in is wake and catching your attention. 

"Can I move this up a bit love?" He gently touches the hem of your kit and you nod, eager to get on with it before you change your mind. "Thank you. Just don't wanna wreck it is all, since I know you cannae replace it. It's the one from your first day yeah?" When you nod, Kieran smiles. "Thought so. Right, pour some out for us Mar!"

Kieran tucks your shirt up to your bra, exposing your entire midriff to the cold air. Martin splays a hand on your stomach and smiles at his mate. "You want upper or lower?"

Kieran tips his head and traces a finger between your hip bones with a tenderness that makes you shiver. He's thought about this long and hard. "Right there. That's my line."

"Gonna be cold elskling, bear with me yeah?" Despite the warning, you hiss when the alcohol hits your skin, but do your best to keep still. Fuck, are your shallow breaths because you're nervous or because of how fucking hot this whole thing is? 

"Mine will be right here then," Martin murmurs, dribbling a line a few inches beneath your shirt. "Same time Key?" 

Same time- what?! You lift your head in time to see Kieran nod, and both boys dip their heads. "What do you-" 

Under normal circumstances, you'd be embarrassed by the moan you let out when two tongues hit your stomach from opposite sides of your body. Martin and Kieran lick your skin dry, leaving it glistening when they pull away. Is this a dream? It has to be a fucking dream because you've never been turned on as much as you are now. Holy fuck was that erotic- you swear you can still feel their tongues on you even though they both are grinning at you while you lose your mind. 

"You like that sweetheart? We can do it again, I wouldn't be opposed." You nod before Kieran finishes talking, and Martin pours out another round onto your stomach. This time you're slightly more prepared for the jolt of pleasure down your spine but that doesn't stop you from groaning, back arching slightly and spilling the liquid across your abdomen before they're finished. 

Martin's hand lands square on your sternum and presses at the same time Kieran's finds your hip and does the same, keeping you from moving whilst they clean up the mess you created. Fucking hell, you're not sure you can take much more of this. You're already borderline overstimulated from their mouths on you and the hand Kieran inches up your side doesn't help matters. 

When both boys finish, they grin at each other. Their shining mouths set the gears in your head turning and you know they must be thinking exactly the same thing. 

Kieran is the one to break the silence, "Why don't we head upstairs and find a room yeah?"

Martin's grin is downright feral, curling your toes. "I thought you'd never fucking ask." Martin trails his fingers up your stomach, "and you, prinsesse? What do you say?"

"One of you carry me up right fucking now! I don't trust myself to walk." 

"Now that's a request I can honor." Kieran picks you up bridal style, one arm under your knees and the other around your back, taking the steps two at a time with Martin hot on his heels. You might not be sure how this will work but one thing is for certain: you're in for a long, pleasurable night. 

[dlea203]

5 years - Hannix AU

A/N: Alright, we’re at chapter ten, everybody 🥳! And with that, we’ve reached the temporary end of this story (emphasis on temporary!). Wow, what a journey it’s been, for both the characters in this story, and for me… this last year has been wonderful/magical/extraordinary/*name any positive English adjective that exists* and difficult/challenging all at once. From physical discomfort to many feelings, to emotional turmoils, to ups and downs… Luckily, I’ve been blessed to meet some of the nicest/kindest/purest souls that grace this earth with their presence. And I’m so immensely proud that I get to call these people my friends 🥹. They’ve brightened up my life and continue to do so every single day. You guys know who you are, and I cannot thank you enough for what you’ve done for me so far and what you keep doing!

But every good thing comes to an end eventually, and it’s not different with this story. 5 years has proven to be a very educational project with all its ups and downs. I’ve had days/weeks/even months where the writer’s block has hit me harder than I wanted. I’ve looked at these pages several times and wondered: How the fuck am I ever gonna bring this to an end?!             Well, I managed, and that is due to my wonderful readers who’ve encouraged me to go on. To try again and again and again. Your comments, reblogs and likes have made me continue and somehow believe in myself and that I can finish this, so that we all get a little closure (and the characters too, obviously 😉). 

As you’ve probably noticed, this chapter will be posted in two posts (first the flashback scene and then the “present time”). Why? Because otherwise the post would be too long😅.

ANYWAY, I should stop rambling so much. This chapter has its usual warnings like lots of fluff and angst, but it also comes with a HEAVY TRIGGER WARNING about graphic depiction of violence and injuries, attempted sexual assault (not too graphic), brutality, captivation and imprisoning of a main character, etc. (I can’t name them all off the top of my head, so I’m sorry if I missed something)! So please, all minors and everyone who gets triggered by any of these themes, please DO NOT READ the flashback scene (aka the first post!) and the first part of the present time! You can start the story where the POV changes into the second scene of present time (It’s marked with a reader-safe section separator). 

I’m not taking any responsibility for psychological damage that can be caused by reading the flashback scene/first part of the present time if you’re not 18+ or if you get triggered by the themes mentioned.

I’m also not intending to offend anyone by the way I portray the “enemy” in this story. Everything regarding the topic Afghanistan/its inhabitants/its government up to now, in this chapter and in the future (if there is one for this story) are to be filed under the creative-liberty-section! I’m not intending to make any political statements or to judge in a moral sense. I’m sorry nonetheless if someone feels offended. I can assure you it wasn’t my intention.

Now, enjoy (although it’s probably a bit outrageous to phrase it like that 😅😬) the (temporary) last chapter of 5 years and THANK YOU to everyone who’s been on this ride with me! It was a blast, and I hope to continue writing for Hannix in the future. 

Take care everyone and lots of love, your Daria 🥰

Taglist: @callsignstingray @sweetwhispersofchaos

Previous chapter

Chapter Ten - part one

August 19th, one year ago…

Jake hadn’t known that brutality like this existed on this planet. He’d never seen people with this few humanity in them like the men he was sitting across from right now as the truck sped through the desert. They laughed devilishly, enjoying their victory, and counting the loot they had snatched today. They were neither mourning the men they’d lost nor regretting their actions just a little bit. Jake was disgusted, and that is the understatement of the century. He kept his head down, fighting the tears that were trying to make their way out of his eyes to deal with what he’d seen today.

He'd never get these images out of his mind. Jake wished that he was part of a horror show, that someone would call “Cut!” any moment and he’d get to see the cameras to be reminded that this wasn’t real. Except that it was. This wasn’t a film. It was reality. And it was irreversible…

*-*

The day started normal. The men and boys went to the fields, the women stayed in the village, doing laundry and looking after the kids who weren’t in school. It was a day like any other in the Afghan desert. Except that Jake stayed in the village too, today. He made a few repairs to the houses of the village, especially on the roofs. A quite nasty earthquake had shaken the villagers out of their sleep last night and made some damages to the houses. Jake and the women tried their best to fix the damages, so that no one would get hurt.

But about two hours after the day had started, nothing was normal anymore. As if the earthquake was supposed to be a bad sign, the village got raided that day, but not by the protection money collectors. No, this was a different group of Taliban men. Much more brutal and heartless. 

They sped along the gravel road but stopped at the fields. Because the villagers had heard them too late, they weren’t able to get back to the village in time, so they looked up from their work, confused. The Taliban climbed out of their trucks, pointed their loaded guns at the men and started shooting them down. Bodies dropped left and right, the fields getting soaked with innocent blood. Among the victims: Jahan and Lianh.

In the village, the women and kids heard the gun shots coming from the fields. Everyone looked at one another, confused and with panic rising within them. 

“Are those gunshots?”, Zahra asked in Afghan, grabbing her mother’s hand. 

“Those are coming from the fields”, Jake stated dryly, already knowing that it was too late for the men and boys on the fields and fearing the worst for the village.

He’d recognize these sounds from miles away. Years of being in the military did that to you. He dropped the tools and ran out in front of the Sayyid house, yelling through the village that there were gunshots coming from the fields and that everyone should get into their house immediately. Amira’s face turned snow white, and everyone started screaming. The women hurried the kids into the houses, trying in vain to lock the doors. But it was all for nothing. Minutes after the gunshots stopped on the fields, various trucks came to a stop in the middle of the village, the Taliban men jumping out and shooting around, not caring who they caught with their bullets. They hollered things Jake didn’t understand and broke into the houses, shooting everyone inside.

Jake hid in the wall closet, as he always did, because muscle memory took over at this point. Amira wanted to run into one of the rooms at the back to protect Aarian, but she didn’t get there in time. Three men broke down the door, pointing their guns at her and Zahra, shouting that they wanted money and valuables. One man walked straight into the back rooms, collecting everything valuable he found. Then, they heard a scream and shot, before something heavy dropped to the floor. Aarian. The other two grabbed Zahra and pressed her face down onto the kitchen table, laughing devilishly and tried to push her skirts up, reaching underneath. She screamed, doing her best to defend herself, but she didn’t stand a chance. Amira wanted to help her, but the second man rammed her head onto the stove and pushed her onto the ground in the corner. Jake balled his fists. Zahra’s screams burned themselves into the depth of his mind. He rammed his shoulder into the door of the closet to open it and immediately threw his whole weight into the man who held Zahra’s arms and had pushed Amira into the corner of the kitchen. The man stumbled and hit his head on the stove as well, going down at least for the moment. Jake tore the other one off Zahra, closed his arms around his neck and tried to strangle him. Zahra pushed her skirts back down, a look of naked panic and shock on her face.

“Zahra, get out of here! Run!”, Jake screamed at her, while he fought with the offender.

Zahra stumbled backwards towards the door and wanted to run out, but the third man who’d killed Aarian darted after her, raised his gun and shot her straight in the head. Zahra dropped down on the threshold.

“No!”

Jake had never before screamed this loudly in his life. He closed his arms even tighter around the bastard’s throat and twisted them, snapping his neck. Then, he jumped onto Zahra’s and Aarian’s murderer. They fought for the gun, crashing into walls and the table in the process. Jake almost had him, but the third man stood up from the ground and then it was two on one. They overpowered him and almost beat him unconscious. When they pressed him down onto the ground, one of the two found Jake’s Dog tags.

“He’s American!”, the man shouted in Afghan, showing the Dog tags to his friend, “Let’s take him with us!”

They tied Jake’s hands up behind his back with a rope and pushed him towards the door. He stumbled over Zahra’s body as his captor nudged him forward. From the corner of his eye, Jake saw that the other one stayed behind and shot Amira in her head, before walking after his friend who pushed Jake towards the trucks. Jake’s heart clenched so tightly that he felt the pain in his ribs.

As they walked up to the vehicles, Jake saw the massacre they had perpetrated. The gravel road and village square were lined with bodies, grown-ups and children. Before he was loaded into one of the trucks, Jake spotted the bodies of Edris and Ava, a few feet away from the school building. Edris’ body lay over Ava’s. He’d wanted to protect his little sister. Jake’s heart dropped into his stomach, and he vomited into the sand next to the truck. His captor slapped him across the face and yelled something in Afghan, probably an insult, but Jake neither cared nor understood. He gave up fighting against his captors. Jake was pushed into the back of the truck, along with various bags full of money and valuables. From there, everything blurred together…

*-*

They’re dead.

It was the only thought Jake was capable of coming up with. He thought about it for hours on end, saw the scenes he’d witnessed in front of his mind’s eye. Zahra, dead on the threshold. She was on the verge of breaking free, but it was snatched from her in the cruelest way. Amira, a loving mother, died while trying to save her children. Edris and Ava, two kids with bright futures ahead, died while trying to protect each other. Aarian, five years old, had his life taken from him before it even started. Jahan and Lianh, hard workers with hearts of gold, murdered for no reason. He didn’t even want to get started on the rest of the villagers. From Babies to children, to women to old men and everything in between, murdered out of pure joy. They were innocent, hadn’t done anything forbidden, except protecting Jake. Their only sin was being good souls. To avoid breaking down in tears in front of the monsters that were his captors, Jake turned his head away to look out at the massive amount of sand they passed. The longer he did, the more tired he got. He didn’t know when exactly, but at one point, his eyes closed, and he dozed off.

He didn’t come back to himself until the truck finally came to a stop. They dragged him out and pushed him forward to an iron gate where two men stood with machine guns. Jake saw a big sign next to the gate: State Prison of Herat.

Zahra had not only taught him how to speak but also how to read Afghan, that’s why he was able to make out what the letters on the sign meant. Zahra… To make the memories vanish, Jake sighed audibly.

Great, now I’ll surely never see my family again, he thought bitterly while the two armed men took him from his captors.

They seemed to negotiate something, but Jake didn’t pay attention. He just let everything happen. They brought him into the main building, checking him over for weapons and throwing him prison clothes. Then he was handcuffed, and they walked him to a different area of the building, past some common rooms where the local prisoners eagerly made fun of him and shouted death threats at him. Jake didn’t care. He stared ahead, expressionless. His will to live had shrunk with every bullet that had been fired in the village. 

Eventually, they reached the part of the building where he would be imprisoned for the foreseeable future. After sweeping a glance through the corridor that was lined with cells, which were only separated by bars, he came to a stop in front of an empty cell.

“Get in there!”, one guard yelled and pushed him inside.

Jake fell to his knees and was made to stay like that until they had removed his cuffs. The guards exited the cell and slammed the door shut behind them. Jake dropped his head forward and checked his tunic for the picture of her. He was allowed to keep the tunic with him, although not to wear it. For a moment he’d been afraid they would take it from him when they checked him over. They hadn’t found the picture, luckily. Same for his wedding band, that he immediately added to the chain of his dog tags. He stuffed them back beneath the clothes he had on now and threw the tunic into a corner of his cell.

“Hey there, you okay?”

Jake’s head whipped around to his left where the voice had come from. A man about his age looked through the bars, a curious expression on his face. His English was accent free, which strangely made Jake feel a little more comfortable immediately.

“Yeah, sure. Best day of my life”, Jake deadpanned.

“I figured”, the man laughed, “I mean, who doesn’t want to get imprisoned in here? It’s pure luxury!”

Jake had to smile at that. The man seemed to not have lost his humor, which somehow brought even more comfort.

“I’m Ryan Hessington, by the way”, he introduced himself, trying to squeeze his hand through the bars before giving up and just offering a fist bump through them.

Jake walked over to him and bumped his fist.

“I’m Jake Seresin. Nice to meet you, Ryan.”

“The pleasure’s all mine, Jake. Where are you from?”

“Originally from Texas, but I’ve been living in San Diego before I came here. You?”

“From Phoenix in Arizona, baby. Best freakin’ city on this planet!”, Ryan chuckled and pounded onto his heart twice.

Jake’s heart fluttered at Phoenix, but he pushed the thoughts of his wife aside for the moment.

“I dare to doubt that”, Jake countered, smiling sincerely for the first time since this morning.

“Agreed!”, a voice with a British accent sounded over from a few cells down.

“Oh, shut up, Stronski!”, Ryan yelled back, before he looked at Jake again.

“May I present? Marc Stronski from a small town near Everton, that he keeps claiming to be the best city in the world”, Ryan said and rolled his eyes.

“It’s true!”, Marc grinned, offering a salute to Jake.

“It’s not even a city! It’s a small town!”

“Doesn’t matter!”

“Yes, it does! Whatever, moving on.”

Jake chuckled. Ryan grinned and pointed at the cell across from Jake next.

“There we have Kilian Hartmann and next to him is Theo Becker, both from Germany.”

They waved at Jake.

“On the right of Theo, we have Stronski’s british ally, the name’s Daniel White. Next to me is my friend and only remaining pal of my squad, Jared Shaw. But that’s a story for the second date. And next to him, our only remaining French buddy named François Déforel.”

“Salut”, François greeted, as Jared moved out of the way so Jake could nod back at him.

“And that’s it, that’s gonna be your company from now on.”

“Hey! What about me?!”, a Spanish-accented voice spoke up from all the way down the corridor.

“Oh my god, forgive me”, Ryan exclaimed with faux-desperation, which almost made Jake burst into laughter, “I forgot about our Spanish-german double agent! Last but not least, Circo Alcarraz.”

“I will kick your ass as soon as I get a chance, Ryan!”, Circo yelled over, but there was no harm behind his words.

Jake managed to smile genuinely at the men he was imprisoned with. They seemed like pretty cool guys. Maybe that would make this situation a bit more endurable.

“Any questions so far?”, Ryan pulled him out of his thoughts.

“You said François is your only remaining French buddy. What does that mean?”

Ryan’s face got a solemn expression, his eyes turning a shade darker.

“Your cell was the one of Sébastien Maillard. He was taken for interrogation yesterday, but they didn’t bring him back. That means he didn’t get through it…”

“Didn’t get through it?”

Ryan looked at him, his smile a sad one.

“They’re not exactly following the human rights convention when they do their interrogations, to put it lightly.”

Jake nodded, definitely not needing further details. He’d witnessed enough brutality for the day (technically for a lifetime, but it would surely not be over anytime soon).

“God bless him”, Ryan muttered, before shaking his head as if to get rid of the thoughts that ran through his head at the moment.

“Beside the habits of our guards, any other questions?”

“Not for the moment, no. Thank you”, Jake thanked him earnestly.

“Well, you know where to find me if that changes. It’s not like we have much privacy… but I promise we’re not stepping on each other’s toes here. If someone wants to be left in peace, we respect that. Is that okay?”

“Sure, absolutely. Thank you.”

Ryan nodded, before lying down onto his shady mattress. Jake did the same, lying down and staring at the ceiling. His hand brushed over the chain with the dog tags and his wedding band.

Baby, I miss you, he thought, longing for her in his arms.

He wished she would suddenly appear here, for just a minute, so he could take her into his arms and trust, even if only for a moment, that everything would turn out fine.

*-*

The first few days at the prison passed by surprisingly quickly. Jake had to adjust to this new situation, which meant staying in his cell for half of the day and working within the prison for the rest of it. Ryan and the others were kind enough to assist and instruct him though, so that the guards didn’t have too many reasons to punish him. They did punish him anyway, because they liked to demonstrate their power and superiority, but they treated all the prisoners equally. Not making a difference between foreign soldiers and local criminals. The foreign soldiers were kept apart from the locals though because the risk of a bloody fight with fatality was too high. And they couldn’t take that risk, the infrastructure was too old to withstand a riot. 

After work, the soldiers were brought back to their cells immediately where lunch or dinner was served.

“They just don’t have any class here”, Ryan joked, “they’re not even letting us eat together!”

Jake laughed. He was glad that the men he was imprisoned with haven’t lost their true personalities due to being here. He remembered one of his instructors at the academy warning them about exactly that…

“If you ever get into the situation where you’re imprisoned by the enemy, you have to do two things… First, adjust to the situation as quickly as possible. Figure out how you can get as comfortable there as possible, whatever measures that includes. Everything is allowed, just do it. Second, lock your personality, and everything that is connected to it, deep within yourself and keep it there. You have to become a shell, hollow and worthless on the inside. Because the enemy will try to figure out how they can break you. And if they find something – no, I rephrase – if you give them something they can break you with, if you give them the weapon to break you with, they sure as hell are gonna use it! Is that understood?”

“Yes, Sir!”

Jake had never imagined that he would be in a situation described in that lesson but here he was. He would do exactly what they were asked to in that lesson. Lock his personality - everything that made him Jake - deep into his soul. He’d lock away his girls, where he came from, his friends and family, his passions and interests; everything that separated him from being a robot would disappear into the depth of his soul and would not reappear until he was free again. Or at least, until he was alone in his cell, and the guards weren’t anywhere near. Which proved to be helpful indeed but didn’t get easier the longer he had to keep it up. At least it disappeared into the back of his mind the more time passed but it didn’t get easier. He just kinda got used to it. It became a mandatory habit. Just like turning off his feelings and his mind completely when he was dragged to the interrogation room. Or torture cell, as his new friends told him.

“Whatever happens, whatever they promise you if you cooperate, do not believe them, okay?!”, Ryan had whisper-shouted at him when they’d heard the guards walk down the corridor towards Jake’s cell to get him for his first interrogation.

“Okay.”

“They’re liars! Same goes for the threats they utter! Don’t listen and don’t worry about them! They’re not gonna make them true, how could they? Your family and friends live far away in safety! Remember, Jake, okay?! Always remember that!”

Jake nodded, then he was dragged out of his cell by his arms, and punched in the back when he didn’t get onto his knees immediately. Ryan held onto the bars and looked him deep in the eyes.

“You got this, Jake. Just hold on. For them”, he insisted, watching the guards drag Jake away.

*-*

At first, Jake had thought that working in the burning sun was the worst part of being imprisoned here. He’d assumed that the interrogations wouldn’t be much fun, but he’d thought that the film-cliché of them being the worst wouldn’t be true. Oh boy, was he wrong about that… 

The interrogations were hell on earth. The physical as well as the mental part of them. The bastards insulted him as much as they beat him up with their leather belts and fists. His back was covered in red streaks within minutes into the interrogation. But it wasn’t really an interrogation, to be honest. It was rather a monologue by one of the three guards in the room while the other two switched the roles to beat and hit him bloody. The monologue consisted of insults, predictions on what they would do to him, (death) threats for his loved ones at home, and so on…

“You have family?”, he was asked.

Jake didn’t answer and received a punch to the ribs.

“We’ll find them. We will find them and murder them. They will suffer, oh yes… We will make a video and show it to you. How we slit their throats and hang them on a tree!”

The guards laughed, basking in their brutal fantasies. Jake just stared ahead, mind blank and ears as closed off as possible. But the images were created in his head, nonetheless. 

The worst ones always came at night, when he was supposed to rest and get new strength to get through the next day. He saw Natasha and Lynn, peacefully dining at the kitchen table, when the door is broken down and the guards enter the house. Natasha jumps up from the table, picking Lynn up into her arms, fleeing behind the kitchen island to grab a knife. She hides Lynn between her legs and the counter, shouting at the men to leave them alone. But the men just laugh at her. She tries to stab one of them, but they’re three and she’s alone with a child to protect. They knock the knife right out of her hands and grab for her and Lynn. She holds onto their daughter, screaming for help. Jake sees the naked panic in her eyes, the same he saw in Zahra’s face right after he’d stopped the bastard from raping her. They’re torn apart. Their cries are like a thousand knives that pierce straight into his soul. Jake is helpless, watching with utter desperation and shock how his wife and daughter are slaughtered right there in their home. In their safe place…

He jolted upright, shaking himself as if that would make those horrible images go away.

Don’t let them get into your head, he reminded himself.

Making sure that no guard was near, he fished the picture of her out of the slit in the wall above his mattress. Her peaceful and happy smile on said picture always grounded him.

“You’re okay”, he whispered to her, gently touching her belly with his index finger.

Oh, how he wished she would reply. Or send him a sign, just one small sign that she was, in fact, okay. That they were both okay. But he was left to trust. No guarantee until he’d be home again to see for himself. If that happened, in the first place. Which was not guaranteed either. And if the same happened to him as to Sébastien before, he’d never find out…

*-*

Days, weeks, eventually months passed. Filled with countless hours of hard work and brutal interrogations. In between, he got to know the stories of his comrades in the cells next to him.

Kilian narrated the story of how him and Theo ended up in the prison of Herat. They were part of a reconnaissance troop from the German military that got hijacked during a tour two years ago about 300 km west from Kabul. Because the Taliban barely had control over said region back then, they drove them all the way through the desert to Herat. Kilian and Theo were separated from the rest of their colleagues, who were partly transported further west to the Iranian border and partly died from their injuries during the journey from Kabul to Herat.

“My childhood friend, Jannis, was amongst the victims”, Kilian mentioned, his voice casual but at the same time laced with suppressed feelings.

Jake pressed his lips together into a tight smile, silently offering his condolences. He knew how much effort it took for Kilian to open up to him. These men were already so used to lock away their personalities that it was more difficult for them than for Jake to find back to themselves in quiet moments like this.

“We grew up together, in a small town between Friedrichshafen and Lindau. That’s in the very southern part of Germany. Almost on board of the Bodensee.”

Jake nodded, although he didn’t have a clue where Kilian’s hometown was supposed to be. He hadn’t been to Germany a lot before. Only twice in his career, and maybe once or twice as a little kid, when his parents were on a business trip and couldn’t leave Caroline and him at home. But on all those occasions he’d never been to the very southern part of Germany. The most southern city he’d been to, is Munich.

“Jannis convinced me to join the military on a professional level. I wasn’t sure if I want that, but he was so excited and fascinated by the Bundeswehr, that he talked non-stop about it in school. Right after we finished our Abitur, we signed up for the training camp and then I finally understood why he loved it so much. It took us a few years, but when we got called up for this tour in Afghanistan, we couldn’t wait to prove to our superiors why we deserved to be where we were… but yeah, now there are some days where I wish I had stayed in Germany and had pursued a normal job.”

Kilian sighed, shrugging his shoulders.

“At least I got to meet some of the most amazing people. The boys were a lot of fun to be around and made this sand-hell a lot more bearable!”

They shared a laugh, with Theo joining in.

“I hope I can go home one day and tell Jannis’ family what a hero he’s been. He fought against his injuries for days… he died about four days before we reached Herat. But I bet he’s better, there where he is now. God bless him”, Kilian murmured, staring into space.

Jake tapped against the bars of his cell twice, signaling his support. 

“Amen”, Theo muttered.

*-*

Jake never really talked about what had happened to him. He was grateful and felt honored that the others trusted him and shared their stories with him, but he didn’t feel like talking about that day in the village. The others weren’t offended, luckily. He simply shared some minor information about his time in the village, like that he’d stayed with a nice family and that he’d felt like he was really part of the village by the end. He told them about their hard work on the fields, that they’d shown him how they built their houses, that he’d taught the kids English. 

Those memories proved to be helpful during the long days in prison, and especially during the interrogations. Jake was able to shut his mind off and get lost in those memories to get through the agonizing hours.

At one point in time, Ryan reminded him that it was Christmas day. Jake acknowledged this with a nod of his head. A few days later, it was New Year’s Eve. They toasted to each other with their empty cups, everyone wishing for the same thing: going home soon.

That wish was heard, although with a delay of about six months. But it was heard and granted. A united army of American and Afghan forces was able to liberate Herat from the Taliban. They stormed the city at night, including the prison. When the guards heard them coming, they tried to escape through the backdoor, but not without trying to eliminate the inmates before. The imprisoned soldiers were fast asleep, when suddenly a group of guards ran through the corridor and shot into each cell as the dashed past them. Jake was hit by at least two bullets, screaming in pain and trying to press himself against the corner of his cell. He used his mattress as a shield and pressed down onto the wound in his lower left abdomen. But he lost too much blood. Within minutes, he started to fall out of consciousness, the mattress burying him. The last thing he heard was Ryan coughing and calling his name. Then, it was pitch black.

*-*

Jake woke up again in a hospital like room. He was hooked up to a monitor that beeped in a steady tune, indicating a stable heartbeat. On his left he saw an infusion pole with various bags hanging from it. His head pounded and he felt like he’d been run over by a truck. When he tried to sit up, a warm hand gently pushed down on his right shoulder, making him turn his head in that direction. Two sympathetic green-brown eyes met him.

“Maverick?”

Maverick smiled and nodded, gently patting his shoulder.

“It’s good to see you, Hangman”, Maverick greeted.

A wave of comfort and relief surged through Jake’s body, and he sunk back into his pillow.

“Where am I? What happened? And what are you doing here?”

“Calm down, Hangman, take it easy”, Maverick ordered softly, “We’re in Germany, on base in Landstuhl. They brought you here a week ago from Afghanistan. You had surgery and were put into an induced coma until now, to give your body time to rest and heal.”

Jake just looked at him.

“And what are you doing here?”

“Captain Mercer called me as soon as you were rescued from that prison in Herat. He told me they would fly you out here to get that surgery done.”

“And then you just came here?”

“Of course.”

“But you’re not my family… Why would they let you see me?”

“Because I told them that I’d sit in front of your door and wait until they get tired of me and let me see you eventually. Luckily, they got sick of me pretty quickly”, Maverick joked, and Jake laughed, immediately wincing at the pain that shot through his body.

“Ah shit, laughing is a bad idea”, he huffed, holding his side.

“Easy, Hangman. Those were two pretty nasty gunshot wounds.”

“It’s good to see you too, Maverick.”

“I’m glad you’re well, according to the circumstances.”

“When can I go home?”

Maverick sighed.

“I’m not your doctor, so I don’t know. But I’ll call him in here, if you want…”

Jake nodded. Maverick got up and walked out of the room for a moment. A few minutes later, he got back inside, Jake’s doctor tagging along with him. They had a good chat; the doctor taking notes of his vitals and reporting how the surgery went. The topic of going home was a bit a tough one, but the doctor made clear that Jake wasn’t allowed to board a plane until the doctor himself allowed it. Which would not be until another week at least.

*-*

Luckily, Jake recovered fast, and that allowed him to board the plane in Frankfurt two and a half weeks after his surgery. When he sat in his seat at the window, staring at the taxiway of Frankfurt’s airport, he couldn’t quite believe that he would really get to go home now. He felt his hands shake a little bit and buried them in his sweater to hide them. In the pocket of his sweater, his fingers touched the picture of her, which made his heart race even more.

“I’m coming home, girls”, he whispered, and felt tears cloud his vision as that statement wasn’t just a wish or a dream anymore.

It was the truth. After five years full of agony and suffering, he was the luckiest man alive.

The flights were neither long nor short enough. When he changed to his connecting flight in Atlanta, he swept his gaze over the people at the airport. He didn’t quite feel at home yet, but these first few minutes on American ground felt even better than he’d expected. When he landed in San Diego and stepped through the sliding doors into the arrival hall, he breathed in deeply and felt his heart calm down a lot.

“Jake!”

A familiar voice reached his ears and he turned into its direction. Maverick waved at him. When Jake stepped up to him, he hugged him tight. Maverick gently patted his back, aware of his scars there. Jake smiled gratefully at him.

“Is she here too?”

“No, but I’ll get you straight home, if that’s alright”, Maverick answered.

Jake nodded, falling into step with his old instructor. They jumped in the car and Maverick let its engine roar to life. They drove in silence for five minutes, before Maverick spoke up, his deep voice almost making him sound like he was grumbling.

“I have to warn you… She doesn’t know. No one does, so don’t be surprised if they react strangely or push you away. I begged Cyclone not to call her, and that the office in Landstuhl shouldn’t call her either. It wouldn’t have been right, after so many years. I hope that’s okay for you… I figured she would rather believe it if she saw it with her own eyes than when someone on the phone told her that you’re still alive and–“

“Mav, it’s fine”, Jake interjected.

“Good. Just, go easy on her. And give her time and space if she needs it.”

“I will.”

Maverick watched him get out of the car hesitantly, kneading his fingers. 

“Hey Jake”, Maverick called after him, making Jake turn around and look at him, “good luck. And welcome home.”

“Thank you, Mav. For everything.”

Maverick winked at him, before he turned the car around and left Jake alone in the driveway. The latter clenched his trembling hands together, before taking the final steps up to the door that separated him from his whole world.

[splishsplashyouropinionistrash]

hey everyone, I'm still alive! and! I have a writing update!

I haven't done any writing.

okok that's not totally true, I've done bits and pieces since I published 'i still talk to you' (link here, I had fun with that one) but I'm nowhere close to having anything ready to publish. Still, I figured I'd give y'all a (totally sober, for once) update on where I'm at in the stories I've promised.

So, okay, the big one first: TMHYHM. I've got about 3k of chapter 9 done, so we're about halfway through it. I'm starting school again in a few days (senior year, woohoo) and I always seem to write better at school, so we're keeping our fingers crossed that it'll get done in the next few weeks. About ten days from now is the one year anniversary of me 1: starting my AO3 account and 2: publishing chapter one of TMHYHM which is.... both exciting and a little sad? Genuinely didn't expect this story to take so long, but here we are.

A lovely commenter pointed out that I must put a lot into each chapter, and I honestly hadn't really thought much about it but they're right. I'm not gonna ramble about it for much longer, but every chapter takes a lot of time and energy. There was the re-read I did to write down the main plot points I wanted to hit every chapter, and then scouring the internet for quotes to put in once I decided I wanted to go that direction, and then I re-read each individual chapter twice; the first time to get more specific with what happens each chapter, finding places to put extra scenes etc. and a second time to figure out a chapter title. Actually writing the chapters is a lot too. I put a lot of myself and my experience into my interpretation of Andrew, and I feel like it fleshes him out more, but it also makes these chapters so much more mentally draining to write. Anyway, all that to say: happy early birthday to TMHYHM and thank you all for your patience.

Okay anyway, some of you may remember that I started teasing a hospital/amnesia fic (here, here, and here) a month ago during the AO3 outage, and I've almost got three chapters finished (halfway done !) I decided a few months ago that I wasn't going to post multi-part fics until after they're finished from now on, so as soon as I finish the whole thing it'll be up. I took a break from it for a little while, but when I came back and read through it today I genuinely cried a little? I'm evil guys why do I write these things??

Third: the minyard triplets. I'm going to be so honest here, I have not made any progress since last time I updated yall. Looking back at the story, I'm honestly kinda starting to hate it? I don't know, I still like parts of it but it just doesn't feel anywhere close to being my best work. I'll keep working on it and hopefully finish it soon, but I don't know when it'll be done. I had thought about turning it into a series, but I'm just not sure how attainable that is anymore.

Also, you may or may not have read my last fic, but if you did: I'm working on an alternate ending!!! I can't say much (cause spoilers) but I'm working very hard on it so keep an eye out for that one. Not sure if it'll be a separate fic or just a second chapter, but it's coming.

ok uhhhhhh.... i think that's it? TLDR: I don't have a lot of answers for y'all, but I'm working on things.

Oh, also? I'm writing a book. So fics might go on the backburner for a little bit lol. Let me know if that's something you'd like to hear more about though, I'm super excited.

Thank you for all your love and support <3

[theriu]

PART 1

I sit at my usual spot in Penny Lane Cafe, sipping a raspberry white chocolate no-coffee latte and watching the Protagonists strategizing at another table.

I'm sure they don't call themselves the Protagonists, but I don't know all their real names. I've picked up a couple over the last few dozen loops, though. I think the short and stocky brunette is Jessica and the skinny Black guy is something like Nasa (Naccsa, maybe? Nasa would be an awesome nickname for a smart guy, though.) The four of them tend to talk really quiet and fast, working out their next plan to fix the Problem. I'm always sitting just a little too far away to catch most of it, but I like to see what I can catch while pretending to type.

I like sitting and watching them until they leave. It doesn't change much on my end, other than not finishing the article I was editing, which happily won't matter anyway. As they get up and do their usual pump-up huddle-break secret handshake, I pack up my laptop, drain my cup and put it in the trash, and amble out the back door while they go out the front.

The sun and breeze hit me with their perfectly familiar balmy late-spring vibes as I wander over to the back entrance of the Mexican grocery store a few doors down. I walk down the aisles and look for something I haven't tried yet. I'm up to the snack section this week; yesterday was these yummy candy bars called Gonsito. I snag a Pulparindo this time because the name sounds fun, then head to the register. Francisco is even more pleasantly surprised by my halting but intelligible Spanish than he was yesterloop, which is a real win for me! It's amazing how much easier it is to practice a foreign language when you don't have to bear the humiliation of a perfect stranger remembering your terrible White person pronunciation the next day. And getting to spend the same few dollars on a different treat each visit really cuts down on one's fear of trying new things. It would feel like stealing if the stuff I bought didn't also get put back on the shelf each loop.

When I walk out the front door of the grocery, I see the Protagonists across the street at the building that used to hold the Rite Aid before it closed an out-of-loop month ago. They seem really interested in getting in; they must have a new theory about the source of the Problem. I wave pleasantly to them. Jessica is nice enough to both notice and wave back; she's my favorite of the group, seems very level-headed and earnest while the dark-haired girl (who I think might be Francisco's cousin) groans a lot and Nasa hyperfocuses on his notes. The blonde White guy seems to be the leader, and his eagle eyes don't leave the former Rite Aid building. I turn left and walk back past Penny Lane's front entrance and further into town. Probably should remember to wave to Jessica around this time each loop until they move on to a new spot or fix the Problem.

It's a bit of a walk to the library, but I don't mind the exercise, and the weather is so gorgeous I wouldn't be surprised if someone looped this day just to enjoy it longer. I'm a little bummed my physical body seems to reset as well when the loop restarts, since all this walking must be good for me. But it does take the pressure off eating junk food every "day"! There's only a few street crossings, and I've long since memorized the exact timing of all the vehicles on the road, so I set my pace perfectly and don't have to stop at all.

Most of the remaining afternoon goes to hanging out at the library. I like to mix it up; I picked through the middle grade kids fiction the first dozen loops (infinitely better than angsty teen or too-spicy "adult" fiction, in my opinion) before deciding this would probably be the best ever situation to do the boring work of broadening my horizons. The last few days were spent finishing a fascinating biography about Corrie ten Boom. Today, I brought a crochet hook and yarn ball from home and spend a couple hours laboring over an instruction book on making little yarn flowers. The attempts might not survive, but the practice will! Man, I wish there was a pottery place within walking distance of my house.

The librarians are just going around warning that the library will close in fifteen minutes when I wrap up today-loop's Spanish study session. I ponder if it wouldn't be feasible to start learning sign language, too, as I walk briskly out the door and turn back up Main Street the way I came earlier.

This is the only part of the loop where I move briskly. Any other time of the day, I'm golden so long as my path doesn't cross the Protagonists enough for them to notice irregularities. But I have to be at the four-way stop by Speedway before 7:52.

I'm right on time again; there's the older gentleman (Kevin, I now know, though he naturally still doesn't know my name.) He's just about to step out onto the crosswalk, the little red hand flashing its countdown for walkers to finish crossing: 10...9...8...

It's at the 7 when I yank Kevin back onto the sidewalk. He stumbles into me, looking up from his phone with a startled expression just as a red pickup truck blasts through the crosswalk, honking its horn as if that idiot wasn't the stupid one for running a red light. I help steady Kevin as he stares, obviously shaken, after the truck.

"Thank you, young lady," he quavered (from nerves, he wasn't THAT old). "I think you may have just saved my life."

He chuckles, some of the shock fading, and I walk with him through the next red light to the Speedway and sit him down at an outdoor table while I get us some drinks. Mt. Dew Code Red for me today; I'm in the mood for an old favorite over something new this loop. Kevin is always surprised when I correctly "guess" his favorite, a gas station hot chocolate.

"Not a problem," I reply as I always do, feigning my own nerves. "Some people don't have the sense God gave a pickle."

We hang out there for about twenty minutes and shoot the breeze. It's one of my favorite parts of the loop. At first, it was challenging getting him to tell me new things every loop, but it's been great practice for me to learn how to guide a conversation. I'm also pretty good at deflecting him from asking about MY life; I can only repeat those mundane details so many times before I feel like a robot. Today, I learn Kevin has four grandkids, one named after him. He also tells me about how he likes to tinker in his garage (which he must be passionate about it, because it ALWAYS comes up).

His watch beeps right on time, and Kevin jumps up and says his line. "For Pete's sake, I'm late! Sorry, Miss Jackie, I have to run. You're sure I can't offer you a reward of some kind for what you did?"

I wave him off breezily. It's not like I would have the reward when things reset, and I've long since decided that chatting with this interesting older guy about his life is a very nice reward. He shakes my hand again and hurries up the street leading away from Main and among the houses. I sit a while longer and peer at the sky as the light grows dimmer.

Sometimes I try to get farther from the Speedway lights so I can catch a glimpse of the stars popping on for the night. Tonight I'm enjoying the cool evening breeze as I sip my Code Red. One star can always be relied upon to say hello: the North Star is visible even while the sky still has wisps of pink and orange. I salute the distant celestial body with a tip of my Mega Gulp.

"See you in a few," I say aloud, and then there's a popping, fizzling, blurring sensation, and I'm standing on my front porch. It's 9:00 in the morning, exactly twelve hours ago. My laptop's in my satchel, I feel the last dregs of sleepiness from getting out of bed, and my Tuesday, May 21, 2024 is ready to start once again.

----

(A/N: I'm REALLY enjoying this prompt, but it's super late and there's a lot more to go for what I have in mind, so I'll stop here for now! Let me know if anyone wants to see the next part! :D)

someone should write a story where there’s ppl stuck in a time loop, but the pov is from someone who rlly doesn’t care. there’s a whole ‘protagonist group’ or whatever trying to figure out how to escape the loop but this dude has just kept living their life so no one has noticed that they’re also stuck. they’re just sipping the exact same coffee order for the hundredth time watching the group strategize at an adjacent table and thinkin “man, wonder if they’re gonna figure out how to fix that today.”