#and I just know that I would have flipped my shit if I'd managed to do it and then had seen what I just saw

[storiesforallfandoms]

i need someone older ~ william afton;five nights at freddy's

word count: 3794

request?: no

description: after a bad breakup, she finds herself becoming more and more attracted to her much older boss

pairing: william afton x female!reader

warnings: swearing, age gap (reader is mid 20s, afton is 50s), power imbalance technically (but it's fine), bit of an au (so he doesn't unalive anyone in this one)

masterlist (one, two, three)

I stormed into work, really pushing it for time. I had slept past my alarm and was incredibly reluctant to get out of bed. After the night I had, the last thing I wanted was to work eight hours in a children's restaurant, with screaming kids and the animatronics playing the same three songs all day. But I needed the money, and hopefully a distraction.

"Whoa, who pissed in your Cheerios this morning?" my coworker, Adam, asked.

"Fuck off," I muttered. "I gotta go change into my uniform. Can you punch me in so I'm not late?"

"Yeah. Be quick, though. Afton's here."

I rolled my eyes. "He doesn't even know our names. He's not going to know I'm supposed to be on the clock."

I changed as quickly as I could while having limited space in a tiny bathroom stall. I stuffed my clothes into my backpack and did a quick double check in the mirror to make sure I was work appropriate. I wasn't paying enough attention as I stepped out of the bathroom and managed to literally run into someone who was walking past. I cursed under my breath as I looked up and came face to face with the fucking owner of Freddy Fazbear's.

As if this day couldn't get any worse.

"|'m so sorry, Mr. Afton," I said.

"Don't worry about it," he said. "Where's the fire, though? You seem like you're in a hurry."

How do I answer this without getting in shit? "I'm just, uh...trying not to be late. I had to change, and bring my bag to my locker."

William looked down at his watch. I felt my heart starting to pound.

"Cutting it a little close there," he commented.

"I know."

My grip on my bag had tightened as I braced for the worst. I had never met William before. Despite owning the restaurant, he was rarely ever around. Whenever he was, he was usually tucked away in his office for most of the day and only ever spoke with our manager. Due to this, I didn't know if he would be a hard ass who was about to write me up for running late. After the events of the previous night, I didn't think I'd be able to take getting reprimanded today.

He took me by surprise when he smiled and said, "Just don't let it happen again, okay?"

I nodded, unable to form any words, and scurried around him to the lockers.

Adam looked at me when I finally returned to the floor. "What took you so long?"

"I ran into Afton," I responded.

His eyes widened. "Did he give you shit?"

"Luckily no. Just told me not to let it happen again."

"I warned you that he was here."

I flipped Adam off when I was sure none of the kids could see me.

As if my day couldn't get any worse, my manager came to tell me that I was stationed on the prize counter for the day. The prize counter was probably the worst part of the restaurant. There was never any downtime at the counter. Either there was rowdy children hopped up on candy and pizza screaming about wanting toys they didn't have enough tickets for, or there were tired parents wanting to buy tokens for the arcade games while their rowdy kids were nearby screaming. Not to mention it was right next to the main stage, so the sound of screaming children was only matched by the sound of pre-recorded music coming from the animatronics' speakers. And to top it all off, the closing duties for the prize counter took longer than any other section of the restaurant.

It was the worst section to work, and I already wanted to leave just knowing that was my station for the day.

The only plus side was that being kept busy made the day fly by. But the usual craziness of Freddy Fazbear's was extra unbearable to a point where I felt myself on the edge of tears numerous times. I knew it was going to be a bad idea for me to be at work, and I was really regretting coming in.

I let out a sigh of relief as the last family finally left and the animatronics finally powered down. Adam laughed at me as I put my head down on the cool glass that held the prizes. "You're giving yourself more work to do."

I looked at the smudge I had left on the glass before glaring up at him. "I don't think my one smudge is making things any worse."

"Okay seriously, what is up with you? You've been grumpy all day."

I sighed and shook my head. "I had a bad night."

"Do you want me to help you close up so you can get out of here sooner?"

I gave him a look. "We both know you don't actually want that."

"But I'd do it to help you."

"I appreciate it, but I'll be fine. My annoyance and desire to leave will make me work faster."

Adam didn't fight me on it anymore. He said goodnight and clocked out. Once I heard the front door close and lock, I immediately got to work with cleaning. That was the easiest part as all I had to do was clean the glass of the prize case and pick up the discarded tickets from the floor. When I finished that, I started counting the cash in order to close it off. That was supposed to be another easy task, but my mind being anywhere but the task at hand made it so much harder.

Restocking the prizes was the hardest part. I had been on my own for nearly an hour, and I was both mentally and physically exhausted, so I was trying to rush out of there but found myself fumbling a little extra. I was trying to dump a box of tiny soldier toys into their respective bin when the box slipped from my hands and landed on its side, the toys scattering all over the floor.

It was my breaking point. Everything finally came crashing down around me and the flood gates finally opened. I lowered myself to the floor, sitting with my back against the counter. I buried my head into my hands and began to sob.

"Seems like a bit of a strong reaction to dropping some toys."

I jumped and looked towards where the voice had come from. I was sure I was the only one left in the restaurant, everyone else having left while I was doing my closing duties. Even my manager had left, giving me the keys and the code to the security system. But, turns out, I was wrong, because there was William Afton leaning over the counter to look down at me.

I quickly scrambled to my feet, wiping the tears from my face. "S-Sorry Mr. Afton. I-I didn't realize - "

"Hey, it's okay," he said, cutting me off and speaking in a soft voice. "What's going on? You seem stressed."

"It's...personal things. I shouldn't have let it interfere with my work."

"Fuck the professional shit for a second here. Forget I'm your boss, forget we're on the clock. If there's anything going on that you want to talk about, I'm all ears."

I leaned against the counter across from him. "It's stupid."

"You're crying, so I don't think it's that stupid."

I sighed. "My boyfriend broke up with me last night, after admitting he's been cheating on me for the last three months."

William whistled in response. "That's tough."

I nodded. "It just...came out of nowhere. We've been together for three years, moved in together last year. There was no signs that anything was wrong. I didn't even suspect that he was cheating. He came home last night and suddenly told me everything. Packed a bag and went to his...I guess...girlfriend's house. Told me he'd be back at some point this week to get his stuff."

Tears were stinging my eyes again. I looked away so William wouldn't see me cry anymore. Upon looking down, I realized my bare arms were on the glass of the prize counter, leaving smudges again. I cursed under my breath and turned to grab the cleaner again.

"Here, let me," William said, reaching for the cleaner. "You pick up the toy soldiers and I'll help restock the prizes once I finish this."

I was a little shocked, but definitely was not about to argue over getting help. We worked much quicker as a team and, finally, I was able to clock out to leave. I stood by as William set the security system and locked the gates.

"Thank you for helping me," I said.

"You don't have to thank me," he said. "It seemed you needed help, and I wasn't about to let one of my employees struggle while I was on the property." I smiled at him and started for my car. "For what it's worth - " I paused and turned back to him. " - your ex-boyfriend is a fucking idiot. You seem like a great woman. Don't beat yourself up over him."

He smiled and turned to walk towards his own car. I watched him go, surprised by what he said. Even through the cold night air, I could feel my face burning.

~~~~~~

William was around more after that. Not just in his office, but he was actually out on the floor. Everyone was noticing his increased presence, but I found myself noticing it in a different way. Whenever William was near, my eyes were practically glued to him. I found it difficult to concentrate whenever he was around. Luckily, everyone else was so distracted by his presence that they didn't notice how useless I had become.

It was wrong. I knew that. Having a crush on a coworker was bad enough, but a crush on your boss was a whole other level of bad. Especially when your boss is so much older. I had no idea whether or not he was even married or had kids for God's sake!

But every time I saw him, I couldn't stop my heart from racing. I wanted him in a way I knew I shouldn't, but I couldn't stop myself.

During one of my shifts, I was put on the serving section. Serving was easy enough - take orders, bring food, check on tables. The hardest part was trying not to trip over a child running past while carrying a whole pizza on a hot tray. Most of us had learned the art of scanning the area before we walked, but sometimes you just don't notice quick enough and end up surprised by one of those little fuckers.

One of the cooks passed a pizza through the pass to me and told me the table number. I took the tray and balanced it against my shoulder, something I found was the easiest way to balance the bigger trays. The restaurant wasn't too busy, but there were still enough kids running around that I took in my surroundings before I started to walk. I was making a mental note about two kids who were stood by the stage, dancing to the song that Freddy was "singing", and didn't notice another kid who was racing from one of the playrooms in front of me. I stopped suddenly, just short of running into him, but found myself losing my balance after he ran past.

I felt two hands grab hold of my waist, holding me upright and saving me from a very embarrassing scene. When I turned to thank my savior, I came to face the blue eyes I had been trying to desperately to avoid today.

"That could've been a disaster," William said, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"Th-thank you," I managed to stutter out. I could still feel the heat of his hands against my waist, like they were burning through the clothes and searing my skin. I almost forgot the heavy tray of pizza I was carrying in that moment.

When he let me go, his eyes still trained on me, I quickly turned and hurried to my table. I tried not to seem so flustered, but I knew I had failed. I stuttered through every sentence before finally dismissing myself to the prize counter where one of my other coworkers, Beth, was snickering to herself.

"What was that about?" she asked.

"Don't ask," I responded.

"Oh, I'm asking. Are you all hot and bothered for Afton?!"

"Shh!" I snapped, looking over my shoulder to make sure no one had heard. Not like anyone would over the usual noise of the restaurant.

"Oh, you so are!" she said. "Holy shit, (Y/N), you know that's bad news right? He's literally our boss."

"I know he is. I'm not stupid. But...I can't help it!"

"At least he would be more of a gentleman than that small dick asshole you call your ex." She looked over her shoulder as the front door to the pizzeria opened. When she looked back, her eyes were wide. "Speak of the devil."

I looked over to see none other than the small dick asshole himself, Josh, walking in. I wished I could disappear into the floor and never be seen again. I tried to turn and walk away before he spotted me, but no luck.

"(Y/N)!"

I groaned and turned back to him. "What do you want, Josh?"

"I was just over getting the last of my stuff - "

"Awesome, I do not care. If you've come to give me your key back, you could've just left it on the dining room table."

"No, I came to say that I couldn't find my Springsteen album."

I furrowed my eyebrows and crossed my arms. "So you came all this way to...what? Ask me what I did with it? I have no idea, Josh, I threw everything that was yours into boxes and garbage bags. If it's not in there, you might've left it in your car or at your new girlfriend's house."

"It's not any of those places." I wasn't sure if I should've been hurt about the fact that he wasn't addressing my last comment directly, but I definitely was a little bit.

"What do you want me to do about it?"

"I wanted to see when you were going to be off work and maybe I could come by to look for it with you."

I scoffed. "Are you serious right now? Josh, I don't know what the fuck happened to your album, but you're sure as hell not coming over to the house. That is not your place anymore, and you're very much not welcome there."

"Why can't we be adults about this?"

"You lost the right to being adult about this the second you decided to cheat on me! And how dare you say that shit, but then come down to my place of work to try and, what, harass me into letting you back into my home? We're over, Josh. I don't ever want to see you again. If I find any of your shit left at the house, I'll drop it in the trash."

"What seems to be the problem here?"

I suppressed the urge to groan again. As if things couldn't get any more complicated.

"No problem, Mr. Afton," I said, turning to face William with the best, innocent smile I could muster. "Just an...unwelcome guest."

William looked at me for a moment before letting his eyes wander to Josh. I didn't have to say much else for him to recognize who the "unwelcome guest" was and I could see anger in his eyes.

"Well, time to get back to work, (Y/N)," he said to me. "Your customers are waiting."

I nodded and ducked away from the situation. As I walked away, Josh called after me, "That's fine, I'll be waiting for you to get off! We can talk more then!"

"Like hell you will."

A collective gasp from the parents and Beth cause me to spin around to see William had grabbed hold of the collar of Josh's shirt. William was easily a head taller than Josh, so even if the act wasn't meant to be intimidating, he definitely looked intimidating. I don't think I've ever seen such fear on Josh's face. William turned Josh around and basically dragged him towards the front door.

"If I see you back here, I will have your ass arrested," he said as he threw Josh out of the restaurant. "Are we clear, punk?"

He didn't wait for a response as he pulled the door shut. I could see Josh standing there, a mixture of fear and confusion on his face. William re-entered the main area, still looking angry, but tried to put on his best customer service smile as he addressed his new crowd. "Sorry everyone. Just an unruly customer. Sorry for any trouble."

To me he added, "Come see me in my office, please."

Beth and I exchanged a look before I followed William towards his office. I was so sure he was going to get upset with me. Not only had I brought my personal shit to the restaurant (even though that wasn't my fault), but it had also resulted in a not so great scene in front of the customers. People get to talking, and I was sure that this story was going to be spread through town before the night was out.

The moment I stepped into his office, I set in on the apologies. "Mr. Afton, I'm so sorry about that. I had no idea he was coming. I've been trying to avoid him while he's moving his stuff out and I guess he was getting tired of that or wanted to poke me one last time or something - "

"Did he hurt you?"

I paused my rambling to look up at him. All anger was gone from his face and had instead been replaced by concern.

"What?" I asked.

"Did he do anything to you just then?"

I shrugged. "Not physically. He was definitely still trying to mess with me mentally, though."

William nodded. "Well, he's not welcome on the property anymore. If you see him, you have my full permission to contact the police immediately."

"I...I don't think that's entirely necessary."

"I don't mean to sound like an old man or anything, but I've met plenty of assholes like your ex, (Y/N). You give them an inch and they take a mile. If you don't deal with this now, he will continue to come back and harass you. I don't want that for you. You don't deserve that."

I opened my mouth to say something else, but nothing came out. I was realizing how close we were now. We were mere inches away from one another. If I wanted to, I could just reach out and touch him right now; grab him. I could've kissed him right then and there if I really wanted to. Who would've known?

As if reading my mind, William suddenly reached out and cupped my face. Before I could comprehend what was happening, his lips were on mine. It was kind of ironic, the fact that I had just been thinking about doing this exact thing, but now that it was happening it was like my brain wasn't sure how to comprehend the situation.

William pulled away just as quickly as he had initiated the kiss. He backed away from me, suddenly worried. "I'm so sorry. I...I don't know what came over me. I shouldn't have done that."

In response, I pretty well threw myself at him. I wrapped my arms around him and kissed him with such force that it pushed him back into his desk. He positioned himself so that he was sat on his desk and basically pulled me into his lap. It was risky, anyone could've come by and caught us, but something about that just made the experience so much better; so much hotter.

William pulled away first again. I tried to chase his lips with mine, but he pushed me back, chuckling at my eagerness.

"Hold on," he said. "There's some things we have to discuss before this goes any further."

"Please don't tell me you're married," I said.

He laughed. "No, I'm not married. Divorced with a 10 year old daughter. That was the first thing I wanted to discuss, in case single dad is a dealbreaker."

"Very much not a dealbreaker."

"So...the age thing is also not a dealbreaker then?"

I shook my head. "If anything, I think that makes it kinda hotter."

A grin spread on his face. "Okay, I'll keep that in mind. But there is the big issue of the fact that I'm your boss."

It felt like I had been shoved off of cloud nine and come crashing down to earth. For a moment, I had forgotten that part. He was right, that was the biggest issue here. Kind of hard to get around it unless I ended up quitting, which I really did not want to do. It was nearly impossible to find a good paying job these days, and I needed this now more than ever since Josh wasn't going to be splitting rent with me anymore.

I climbed off of William's lap and stood across from him. "I guess...that is a big issue, huh?"

"I just don't want you to feel pressured into anything, and I don't want anyone to look at you any different because you're dating the boss."

I raised a playful eyebrow at him. "You jumped to dating pretty quickly there."

His smile was a little more bashful. "What can I say? I'm old school. I don't believe in hooking up or anything like that. If there's anything going on here, I want you to be able to classify it as a relationship."

In that moment, I found myself wondering why I hadn't always dated older men. I had wasted so much of my time on guys my age when I could've been dating someone who was actually a gentleman and cared about me and my feelings.

"Why don't we see where things go with this, and then we can tackle that big elephant in the room?" I asked.

"I think I can agree to that."

I took a step closer and said, "I really want to kiss you again, though."

He laughed and met me halfway, standing from his desk and taking my face in his hands again. When he kissed me, I felt like I was flying right back on to cloud nine.

[barcaatthemoon]

mommy dearest || mary earps x reader ||

it's just mommy kink mary earps smut.

18+, smut ahead, minors dni.

"oh fuck," you moaned as mary pulled your hips down to grind against her thigh. mary had been winding you up all practice, and now you could finally do something about it. to make matters worse, mary had to stay extra time for a quick instagram photoshoot and a couple of videos for youtube.

"don't worry, we'll get to that," mary teased. you didn't need to look up to know that she had a shit-eating grin on her face. she was far too proud of herself, but you couldn't bring yourself to care. "i'll take good care of you. i always do, don't i?"

"fuck, yes," you answered. mary grabbed a hold of your jaw, forcing you to look at her as you ground against her. you recognized the look in her eyes, one that she only ever really got when she wanted something specific. "you take such good care of me, mommy."

you watched the way that mary's jaw clenched at the name. her hands came up to grab at your hips, holding you as she flipped the two of you over. you were pinned beneath mary's body on top of the mattress now. she pressed a couple of rough kisses to your lips before she backed away, stepping off of the bed and going straight for the bedside table.

"mary," you whined at the loss of contact. she stifled a smile, secretly loving it whenever you'd get needy for her. mary would have loved to hold you in her arms all night, slowly dismantling every part of you just to put you back together again lovingly, but today, she wanted something different.

"i need you to do something for me, and then i promise that i'll take care of you. can you do that for me? just one little thing for mommy," mary said. a shiver ran down your spine at the way that she was talking to you. mary was generally a very loud person, often screaming and shouting throughout the day without noticing. now, she was being careful to keep her voice low and quiet. both of you knew how easily mary could manage to drive you up the wall that way.

"i'd do anything for you mommy," you said. mary smirked as she stripped herself out of her clothes and put on the harness. you knew almost immediately what she wanted from you when she grabbed you to move you into position. your head hung off of the edge of the bed, mouth perfectly positioned to take the strap when she leaned forward.

"you're such a good girl, always so willing to do what i ask," mary praised you. a deep blush rose to your cheeks at her words. she smiled down at you as she squeezed your cheeks to open your mouth. you had expected her to push her hips forward to get things started, but instead she leaned down a little and spit into your mouth.

the action took you by surprise, as did the tingling in the pit of your stomach at the thought of it. mary picked up on your realization, smirking as she moved her hips so that you could take the tip of the dildo into your mouth. mary held your face gently as her hips started to thrust in and out of your mouth. she knew what you could handle, just like she knew the way to work you up to that.

mary tried hard not to get ahead of herself as she watched you take inch after inch of her strap into your mouth. she moaned at the sight of you with every bit of it in your mouth. she slowly pulled out before pushing back in with rougher thrusts. you were sure that it was a truly pornographic scene, mary moaning as she fucked your face with her strap.

"i don't ever want to stop this," mary said as she pulled out of your mouth once again. this time, she spun you around so that your legs were on either side of her. "but your mouth isn't my favorite thing to fuck, even if you do look pretty drooling all over my thighs."

you opened your mouth to say something as mary slid a finger inside of you. her thumb toyed with your clit, intent on making you cum at least once before she started fucking you. your head began to feel fuzzy from the way that her thumb circled around your clit as she added a second finger. your hips moved with the thrusts of her fingers as you got worked up. mary just barely managed to add a third finger to the mix before you were cumming, absolutely coating her hand as you did.

"what's your color?" mary asked you.

"green," you answered immediately. mary wiped her fingers across your lips before she grabbed your hips and pulled you closer. she slid inside of you as her lips met yours in a searing kiss. you coudl feel her tongue licking the taste of you off of your lips. mary's tongue dipped into your mouth, but all you could focus on was the feeling of her fucking you.

mary's hands held onto your hips as she rammed hers into you. she was fucking you fast and hard. each thrust went in deep, hitting every spot that you could think to want. mary pulled away from the kisses to watch the way that your boobs bounced with each of her thrusts. your hands linked up behind her neck, nails scratching at the sides as you tried to grab onto something to steady yourself.

"fuck mary, i won't last like this," you warned her. mary knew that you were close, and she wanted you to cum. she moved one of her hands down from your hips to rub against your clit, knowing that would definitely send you over the edge. mary barely managed to touch you before you were screaming out for her. "mary! i'm cumming! i'm cumming!"

"that's right, cum for mommy," mary told you. she leaned down and was whispering in your ear, not stopping her thrusts even as the resistance started to build. mary could barely move from the way that you were clenching around her. her fingers kept rubbing against your clit, pushing you into further and further over the edge. mary showed no signs of stopping, so you started to push against her and squirm to get out from beneath her.

"that's it, you've killed me," you croaked out weakly. mary chuckled as she stepped out of the harness. she set it in the bathroom for cleaning, kicking the discarded clothes that way as she went. mary moved around for a few minutes before she came back to you.

"can you sit up for me?" mary asked you. you got halfway up, which was more than enough for mary to pull you the rest of the way. she let you take a few drinks from the gatorade that she brought you. the protein bar in her hand waited until after she started to clean you up with a warm washcloth. "sorry."

"it's okay," you mumbled. that didn't stop the little whimpers from the contact. mary pressed a kiss against your cheek as she threw the washcloth towards the bathroom. it missed, but you didn't bother telling mary to pick it up as she started to help you get dressed.

"cookies and cream or peanut butter and chocolate?" mary asked as she held up two protein bars. you reached for the peanut butter and chocolate one, ignoring the pout on mary's face. she'd end up getting a few bites of it anyway. the two of you shared a favorite flavor, so you didn't know why she didn't just bring two of those with her. the cookies and cream was good, but you usually brought those along when you ran out of the other.

"what's going on in there? i think i smell smoke," you teased. mary glared at you, nearly knocking you off of the bed as she nudged you. she mumbled an apology as she grabbed you and pulled you into her arms.

"you're gonna have bruises tomorrow," mary said quietly. you knew that it bothered her sometimes to be so rough with you. she knew that you were tough, and never gave you more than what you could handle, but you bruised like an overripe peach. "that's probably gonna hurt."

"mary, look at me, if i wanted you to stop, i would have told you. there are always bruises, even when you just pin my hips down a little. i was teasing you so much because i wanted this, both of us did. if you feel so bad about this, you can give me a rub down tomorrow, i'm sure that i'll need it after the gym," you told her. mary seemed to like that idea, truly relaxing around you for the first time since she had gotten finished fucking you.

[idesofrevolution]

Father

Dad had been acting strange for quite some time. Honestly, it wasn't that noticeable in the beginning, which I suppose made it difficult to pinpoint when things started to change. I only started to notice maybe seven months or so ago after he turned down the daily Budweiser. Patrick O'Shaughnessy turning down his biggest vice? I knew something was off right then and there as he sat there, smiling at me from his armchair with the game on in the background: red flag number two, my stepfather had NEVER been a sports guy. Binging Fox News while fingering pudding cups, sure; but actually knowing what was happening in a football game?

I'd originally thought he'd perhaps found a side girl to cheat on my mom with. It was far from outside of his character to do something like that, if he'd ever be able to get his nasty ass out of the recliner for ten fucking minutes... He'd gotten too comfortable in his laziness. When my mom married him a year ago, he was already a piece of shit lardass who refused to do a single thing around the house, refused to work a normal job (he was waiting for a management position apparently), and above all refused to acknowledge me whatsoever. He was rude, crass, could never even so much as break a smile at me. And there, in that moment as his eyes made contact with mine and his lips curled into a smile, I knew something was wrong.

"What, no beer burps for me today?" I scowled at him, raising my eyebrow in a malicious curiosity.

"Nahh little man, I'm trying to cut down." Little man? He'd never gotten my name right let alone given me a nickname... We did not have that kind of relationship, at least one that would have an affectionate nickname for one another. "Say, I'm hittin' the gym in a couple minutes. Whaddya say you come along?"

"You're... you're going to the gym? Really?" I sat there slackjawed. Something was indeed off. What it was, I couldn't exactly tell. Nothing outside of his UberEats order would ever get Patrick out of the chair. He laughed at me, gripping his sizeable paunch beneath his stained tee shirt.

"You bet, bud. High time I set an example for my boy. How's he gonna respect a couch potato loser? You should come along. Nothin' like a father and son spending time together, especially in the gym. Get the boys lookin', right?" He stood up from his chair, grabbing his keys off the kitchen countertop as he headed toward his car. I, on the other hand, stood there with tunnel vision. Patrick was not the most supportive parent when it came to... well, anything. But the biggest bone of contention was me coming out to them last year. It was the biggest hullabaloo, Oscar worthy. Thrown glasses, flipped chairs, disownment, threats of eviction... the only thing that kept me in the house was my mother putting her foot down. It wasn't a big deal for her, but for him... I was the biggest embarrassment on the planet. What would Tucker Carlson think?

Yet as I stood there, staring at the cigarette-stained wall, my brain couldn't process what I'd just heard. 'Get the boys lookin' he said... As if he were trying to play wing man for me... What the fuck was happening? My heart fluttered the moment his words sank in, that was pride. It was something neither my father nor my stepdad ever had the courtesy of giving me. My walls were up, and I was beyond skeptical, so for my own peace of mind I had decided then and there to investigate.

From that day on, the moment I came home from school, I was spying. While most of my friends were trying to enjoy their senior year, going to parties or getting ready for college, I was at home peering behind corners at my stepfather. Over the first few months I watched with complete disbelief at the changes. Every single day, I'd come home, and he'd be on his way out to the gym. The normal scowl he'd gift me upon my entry was replaced with jovial smiles and hair ruffling as he schlepped his gym bag over his shoulder out the door. He'd be gone for two or three hours at least, and come home just before dinner dripping in buckets of sweat. I'd begun to avoid driving his car, as the stink of his sweat had completely inundated the fabric of the seats. He'd toss his bag on the floor by my book bag (gross), and plop down at the dinner table where he would ask genuinely about my day or sweetly flirt with my mom while winking at me. I still wasn't convinced. He kept asking me nearly every day if I'd come to the gym with him, if we could go shoot hoops at the park across the street, or if I'd play FIFA with him. Each time I'd shoot him down, he'd have a momentary break in that happy facade of his, as if it were hurting him I wasn't spending time with him.

Within five months or so, he was nearly unrecognizable. I guess protein shakes & a low carb diet really works on a guy: he'd lost nearly 70 pounds and gained about 20 in muscle alone. He'd struck up friendships with my school's wrestling coach and a couple of the neighbors, and we were finding ourselves invited to barbecues and block parties for the first time. I had to endure little hallway chats with Coach Weston about joining the wrestling team, as he was in talks with the school district about bringing my stepdad on as assistant coach. It was bizarre to me for many reasons, but one stood out above all: Patrick was never a wrestler. Not in college, not in high school, my mom even confirmed it one night at dinner. He'd brush it off as if it were something fun he were doing with 'Dane', which in and of itself was weird to hear the coach's first name used at all at home.

Sleep was getting difficult. My mind ran at a thousand miles an hour, but now he and mom had begun to fuck like rabbits. Loud, hard sex almost every other night with their bed slamming against my bedroom wall for hours. Mom of course was radiant at that point. The years of one piece of shit husband being a complete and total asshole, replaced by another piece of shit husband treating her like garbage melted away in the course of a couple of months of Patrick being a strangely brilliant partner. He'd started to cook us meals, he'd started to do the yardwork, he'd even fixed things around the house that had been broken for years. Sure, the sex seemed to help, but as she would say: "He's lessened my load so much, Jonas. I wish you'd give him a chance."

Sure, he was treating my mom well and that was a good enough reason for me to like him. Was it enough to trust him? No. I'd still turn down every single request to spend time alone with him. No gym. No basketball court. No gaming. Though, in one single concession for my mom's sake, I begrudgingly agreed to let him drive me to school in the morning. That one decision is what truly changed my life forever. I went to bed that night, putting on my earbuds to drown out their disgusting sex in the next room, less than eager for the fifteen minute drive the next day.

Thus, on that warm April day, my morning began as normal. Shower, dress, drink my morning smoothie, grab my bag, and walk out the door. It wasn't long before I was greeted by his chipper, dim witted voice shattering my peaceful morning.

"Ayy little man!" I sighed, turning toward the garage, where there he stood: shirtless and dripping sweat from his chiseled body. As a gay guy, I have to admit, it was hard not to stare. He had become quite a sight to behold. The other moms in the neighborhood certainly would sit and stare at him on his morning runs, even a couple of the dads as well, and now I sat there oogling the ripped, gleaming body he'd built.

"Hey, Patrick. Do you need to shower? I have to get going, but I can catch the bus if there's not enough time?" In my head, I was praying to God that he'd just hop in the shower he never seemed to take and I could go on my merry way. Though, no such luck.

"Nah, man! It's all good. I promised you I'd take you to school, so hop in the car!" I sighed, turning to his 1998 Mustang with a shiver cascading down my spine.

"Sure, Patrick." I dragged my feet headed toward his car. Opening the door, the humid, musky air within poured out of the car, punching me in the face with his scent. Imagine a noxious waft of butter, blue cheese, saltwater, and feet just drowning you. That was the stink that swamped his car, and him for that matter. I took one final breath of fresh air before I sat in the car and closed the door. He wasn't far behind, not even bothering to put a shirt on as he hopped in beside me.

"Alright! Let's get goin' bud!" He turned the key and the car roared to life. I sighed, thankful it was only fifteen minutes. As we pulled out of the driveway and onto the street, I turned on the radio, hoping to dissuade him from making some puerile small talk. We sat there in silence for a moment, before hitting the main road. "You know what, bud?" He turned to me, looking me up and down before rolling up the windows and turning off the radio. "Ahhh fuck it. We're playing hooky today."

"Wait, what?" I had no time to protest, before he turned onto the main road, but in the opposite direction from the school. "Patrick, I'm not playing hooky. I have to go to school." He laughed, ruffling my hair yet again.

"You gotta stop callin' me Patrick, Jonas. I don't have to be dad if you don't want, but Patrick is so... not me. Just call me Pat."

"Okay, PAT. I'm going to school." He turned to me, and his smile faded, letting out a solid sigh that would put mine to shame. He pulled over onto the shoulder, and put the car in park.

"Listen. I know you don't like me. I know you don't trust me, and I get it. I made a lot of changes to him very quickly, and it's hard to keep up." Him? Why did he say it like that? "I'd been watching you just suffer endlessly for years, man. All the time. I just wanted you to have a good role model for once. A man you could lean on, and not some shitty lard who talks bad to ya."

"What the fuck are you on about?" My patience had worn too thin for my calm veneer to bear. He turned the key, and the engine quickly died.

"C'mon bro. You know something's different about him, right? I know you've been watchin' me like a hawk. Think I haven't noticed you watchin' me from around the hall corner? You think I don't know you're creepin' while I beat one out huffin' my strap? I know, dude. I've always known. C'mon, man." Pat threw his hands in the air in frustration, the first time since his attitude adjustment that I'd seen anything like it. But, this was different. It wasn't rage, it was exasperation.

"Okay, Pat. So you saw me watching you. Can you please tell me what the fuck is going on now?" He slowly rested his sweaty head against the headrest, and sighed. Then, a chuckle. Then another, until he was full on laughing. "What!?"

"Ahhh, man. I never thought I'd see the day you'd man up and come to. Yeah, Jonas. I can tell you what the fuck is going on." I sat back, confounded- even more so than before. "My name was Matt Wilde. Way back in the day, I used to wrestle for Palm Heights High. Was pretty damn good at it too, but one day I got pinned just a little too hard and poof."

"Matt Laurent? What the fuck are you talking about, Pat? Are you high?" His dumb laugh threw him back in the seat.

"Nah, I finished that joint earlier, man. Stone sober now. But, safe to say for the past 50 years I've been just hoppin' body to body. Started with a couple of my teammates just so I could finish out the years, wrestle a bit more. Got bored, hung around the gym, in and out of some lug heads. Did a stint in some Libertines, that was fun as fuck. But man, I saw you sulkin' around the school for the past three years and thought, damn that kid looks sad. So, I may have eavesdropped a bit, maybe caught a bit about your dead beat, piece of shit dad; then right after he ditches, Mom lands this fuckin' winner." He slapped his chest, little droplets of his sweat landing on my bewildered face. "Oh shit, my bad." I sat there, slackjawed, completely disoriented as he dumbly wiped his sweat off my nose and cheek.

"You... you're dead?" He snapped his fingers, winking and smirking at me.

"Bingo, bud. Right on the money. I was like, I'm in a very unique situation here to fuckin' do something this. So, I slipped into this dumbass and just stuck around. Did the work. Tried, emphasis on TRIED, to be like the Dad I had and that you deserve, ya know? Haven't made it fuckin' easy, but... ahhh. That's parenthood, am I right?" I scoffed, he must have taken some damn good drugs. I was convinced. There was no way!

"Okay, then. MATT. So, if you're some dead jock bro possessing Pat, where the fuck is he?" He pondered for a moment in silence, shrugging his shoulders.

"I think he's gone, bro. I haven't stayed in a dude this long, I used to hear him bitchin' and moanin' all the time, but he went silent a couple of weeks ago." Fuck, I wish that were true. I had to admit, even if only in my mind, this Matt-Patrick was lightyears better than Patrick Patrick. Sure, he was dumb, he was every stereotype dudebro in the book, he smelled like he bathed in sweat baths... But, for the first time in my life, he wanted to be around me. He wanted to spend time with me. He made an effort. He... liked me. The mental gymnastics needed to make sense of the situation was growing too monumental to comprehend, but in that moment as he sat there with his dumb fucking grin on his face as if I was going to just completely buy it, I started to hope it was true.

"So, what now, Matt? Are you just gonna keep fucking my mom and prentending to be my Dad for the rest of your life? Or are you gonna hop out and ditch us?" He raised his eyebrow in genuine confusion.

"I mean, yeah that was the plan. One, your mom is fuckin' hot and she's better than any girl I've ever been with. Two, I kinda like our little family. Three, I ain't ditchin' ya, bro. You had enough of that shit for one lifetime. Besides, I gotta get you to chill the fuck out one way or another, so I was hoping we could give it a shot. Like I've been beggin' man." 'Matt' put his hands together as if praying, pleading to me. I suppose it wouldn't be the worst thing. It's better than coming home every day to spy on him, and it's way better than being the sad wallflower all the fucking time. Besides, those dumb fucking puppy dog eyes...

"You know what? Sure, Matt. What did you have in mind?" I could barely finish my sentence before he'd twisted the key and slammed on the gas. The man drove like a bat out of hell through town, hooting and hollering in victory as if he'd won a match.

"Hell fuckin' yeah, man! Dude we're gonna be so tight, it's gonna be awesome. You're gonna be so fuckin' sexy, the dudes are gonna be on their knees by the time we're done! Slobberin' on that dick like SLURPEDY SLURP! WOO!" So fuckin' dumb. Dumb as a box of rocks. But I couldn't help but crack a smile as he swerved left and right, shouting at the top of his lungs. "Let's get you sweatin' man. We can get you pumpin' iron, playin' ball... I'm burning everything you got in your closet, bro. Nobody wants polos and button ups, man. Gettin' you some J's, some good jocks. Oh, how do you feel about chains?"

"Matt, dude. I'm not like you. That's all well and good for you, but I can't pull that shit off..." He slammed on the brakes and a cavalcade of horns from behind us rang out like a brass band. Matt whipped his gaze to me in shock.

"Don't say that, bro! You could be a bona fide stud! Look at you, man!" A couple of hard slaps against my bony chest and a harsh wheeze later, perhaps it sank in a bit. "Aight, well we have some work to do. I mean, if you're up for it." He smirked at me, lifting up those massive arms and flexing. His veins bulged from his massive bicep, the wet hairs in his ripe pits wafted that pungent scent I'd regrettably started to secretly love... Yeah, maybe I did want it.

"I don't know how, man. If I were like you, I bet I could." As if a cartoon lightbulb flickered to life above his head, I saw the spark of inspiration hit him like a sack of bricks. That stupid smirk grew into a wide, toothy grin.

"Aight, bro. Haven't tried this before, but I'll give it a go." He clapped his hands together, rubbing them gently. "I saw Jimmy Morales do this once when he needed a spotter. Gotta ask, though. You trust me, right?" I sat there and wondered if I did. I'd pretended up until this point that I believed every word that had come out of his mouth. This insane, psychotic story. It was nuts. It was crazy. But that little voice in the back of my head, deep down in the dark recesses of my brain decided to finally speak up.

"Yeah, Matt. I trust you."

"ALRIGHT! Fuck yeah, man. Oh shit, this is gonna be great! Okay, so don't freak out, just trust me and let it happen, okay? It doesn't hurt, the dudes usually bust a nut after it's all over." I heard a squelching rumble from in his stomach: wet, guttural, as if he were getting ready to vomit. Which became more and more likely as I saw a lump start to make it's way up his throat.

"Matt..." His body began to shudder and quake, his veins bulging and head thrashing from side to side. Then, from between his lips, a glowing blue vapor began to slip out. It was tiny at first, a little tail whipping about, before more and more of it started to bellow out of his mouth. Slick, bulbous, translucent. I had mere seconds of watching it slither out before it darted right into my own slack jaw. It squirmed as it wriggled from his body into mine, slurping deep into my bulging stomach. The feeling of fullness overtook me, watching more and more of the rubbery thing enter me, squeezing into every available inch within me, and he was right: it felt good. It felt like an eternity, but in reality it was just moments. The last of suctioned into me, and the world went black.

---

I woke the next morning in my bed. Shooting straight upright in a puddle of sweat. I rubbed my hands on my face, running my fingers through my drenched hair. What a fuckin' dream. I groaned as doubled over in pain. I felt like I was hit by a train. Everything hurt, a soreness unlike anything I'd ever experienced before radiated from every fiber of my being. Then, a soft caress of the nostril. Salty, buttery, funky... I raised my arm, finding the culprit immediately.

"Fuck!" I spat out, before taking a deep breath, another hit. "Fuuuuck..." Another inhale, a familiar stink, a comforting stink. What started as gentle whiffs quickly turned into full on huffing. I buried my nose in my pit, letting the wet jungle lather my face in my own sweat.

"Morning, bro. Good shit, ain't it?" The words echoed in my head, a soft, rippling little voice from within my brain. I should have been alarmed, terrified, even. But no, the words felt like gospel to me. "We really went to town yesterday, man. I had you liftin' like an Olympian. Take it easy. Here, I'll be right there, I got just the thing for it!" My hands started to drift southward, beneath the waistband of the teal sweats I didn't own... Were they... Pats? The door to my room burst open mid-huff, and in walked the hulking tower himself with a tray in hand.

"Goooood Morning, Kiddo! I made ya a protein shake, good recovery breakfast after a workout sesh like we had! Oh, your Mom made eggs!" He walked over to the side of my bed, kicking the Jordans I'd borrowed from him to the side. Wait, when did I do that? "Eat up, champ. Those 'ceps aren't gonna feed themselves!" Slamming the tray down onto my thighs, I let out a groan of pain.

"Pat? Dude, I had the weirdest dream." Dude? I never say dude. I cupped my hand, slick with sweat and pre over my mouth, aghast at the words coming out of my mouth. Pat smiled, grabbing the shake and handing it to me. "Drink up, my dude. For real, you're gonna be in a world of hurt otherwise." The voice boomed in my head, HIS voice. But his lips hadn't moved an inch. "Pat..." I ripped the sheets off of me, sure enough, I was sporting his nasty sweatpants & drenched socks. Cupping my manhood was most definitely his grimy jockstrap. "Hey, if we were gonna have the best workout, I had to be comfortable, bro! I knew you'd get it, though." I looked at him, a tight lipped smile, as if he were proving to me he weren't talking to me. "Feels good, right! I told ya! Just think, bro. With a half of me in there, you're gonna be unstoppable." I smiled. A genuine fuckin' smile, for the first time in as long as I could remember. I watched as my hand gripped the shake, bringing it to my lips of it's own accord. Downing the vanilla shake, our eyes met, and I understood completely. Matt winked at me, ruffling my hair, and sauntered back out of the door.

I leaned back in my bed, throwing my arm behind my head. The musk drifting from my pits and feet, identical to my dad's. Smirking, I let my fingers drift down to my growing meat in its slimy pouch, knowing fully well that I was in damn fine hands.

---

So that brings us to today, I guess! One year to the day. One full year since I finally let Dad in. 'Pat' sure did join the wrestling team as assistant coach, bringing his son in tow, eager to finish my senior year with at least a title. Thanks to him, I made varsity after the first fuckin' tryout. Can't say it was all me, all the time, but after a while it was. Honestly, it all started to blend together. Me at the wheel, him at the wheel, soon it sort of blurred and it was just me. That last semester was the best of my whole fucking life. Parties, bodybuilding, skating with the boys, fuckin' the boys... Shit, it was the time of my fuckin' life.

And after every day at school, or at least after every post-practice locker room blow job, I couldn't wait to get home and smash some Call of Duty with the old man. Mom would always come in, making comments on how we seemed as if I'd become a mini-Pat. Finishing eachother's sentences, drinking the same beer, wearing the same kind of clothes... she'd always put our sneaks outside the garage door, "they even stank the same." Little did she know just how much of the same person we really were.

I've decided to stick around the house for a year or so before maybe headed to college. I don't know, family is here, friends are here, Coach Weston should be retiring in a year or two... so there should be an opening for a new assistant coach on the wrestling team. Besides, I may have landed quite the catch in the boyfriend department, and I really want him to meet my dad, I have a feeling they'll get along just fine.

[potatomountain]

Chapter Five

📍pairing: detective ateez ot8 x detective reader

📍word count: 3.5k

📍network: @pirateeznet

📍Warnings: (TBD)

📍Beta readers (and sole motivation): @flurrys-creativity , @candypop1611 and @daesukiii

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As an apology, and to give you a little break, Hongjoong had sent you out with San to grab food for everyone- yourself included. San changed out of the bloody shirt into a black button up after he let Seonghwa finish bandaging him up. They let you pick the place and you offered the deli down the street you had been going to. San took their orders and walked with you, encouraging you to rant about the others and he listened, giving you his full attention. You had been apprehensive about it at first, but a part of you wanted to lean on him.

He had come to your figurative rescue earlier, knocking on the door and apologizing for them. He managed to coax you out, and when you opened the door he had been sweet, joking about beating up the others on your behalf and that he could get away with it. Plus, you needed an ally, even if it was just partially.

You didn’t understand why San wasn’t hostile to you from the start like the others, why he sought you out to comfort you and why now he was listening so intently… but you liked it. You didn’t trust him of course, but you enjoyed his company none-the-less. Arriving at the deli he gave everyone’s order and looked at you expectantly.

“I still have my food at the office.” You were just thankful for the excuse to come back out.

“It's probably cold by now. Get something. It's on the Captain's card so don't worry about the price.” He smirked, showing off the card between two of his fingers. “Come on, make it hurt.”

Grinning, he did have a point. You ordered more food than you could eat but San encouraged you by saying he could hide the rotting food in one of the other's things. The childish prank idea had you giddy.

The walk back he insisted on carrying all the food and some of the drinks, leaving you with one carrier and your own food. He didn't struggle with it, continued talking as if you two had been working together for awhile. It was almost alarming how easily you got swept up into his charm.

“See I'd bet Jongho would just flip his shit, desk too, if he found a moldy mass just hiding in his back drawer.  Either him or Mingi would have the best reactions.”

“What about Yeosang?” You asked, amused by his descriptions of how each of them would react.

San shrugged. “He keeps himself locked in his work room, it would be hard to sneak it in there. Captain would also be a good idea as his office is usually left a mess but you would have to hide it well enough that Hwa wouldn't find it while cleaning. If he did- well he'd just blame the Captain.”

You tried to picture an argument between the two over a moldy forgotten sandwich, bringing a smile back to your face once more. “Now that sounds even more interesting. And you said Yunho would be the least reactive?”

“Mhmm, not much actually pisses him off. He'd probably just throw it away when he saw it and forget about it in minutes.”

“I see…” He had appeared to be the friendlier of them, or well least angry. Despite his teasing and condescending interactions, he had talked to you the most. “The amount of testosterone between all of you is absolutely infuriating, you know.”

“Yeah- I know. If circumstances were different I wouldn't be surprised if they had a bet going of who would fuck you first.” He chuckled dryly, the building in view.

You made a disgusted face at that. “UGH, men.”

He was still laughing when you two entered through the front. You set your food and drink down first before following San to the back, your now good mood getting more tense with each step.

You wanted to believe things were resolved- wanting to believe there was no more hostility- but they attempted a truce before and that turned into the argument earlier. So as you followed San to the nearest desk and set everything down, you were visibly on edge.

“I'm going to go eat now…” You told San, not bothering to look at anyone else that might be in the room. 

San reached out and grabbed your wrist gently, eyes searching your expression. “You sure you don't want to eat with us?” 

Shaking your head you pulled away. “No thanks, I'm not going to push my luck. I've had enough testosterone today.” With a heavy sigh you turned to head back to your meal- only to run into a chest. “Ou-”

“Sorry, figured you would be more on your toes.” Seonghwa grabbed your forearms to steady you, the hint of a smirk on his lips.

You narrowed your eyes in response. “Forgive me for not being more on edge.”

His expression fell, as did his hands. “That wasn't- it wasn't a jab, I'm sorry.” He looked you over, standing in your way to keep you from leaving. “Captain asked if we could join you to eat? He wants to have a chat.”

Stiffening a bit, you knew it was an order and not a request. “Do I- fine, I'll be at my desk.” You bit off your defensive retort and relented defeat, making your way around him with a heavy sigh.

You were much more mentally exhausted than you had believed, your temples beginning to throb as you made your way back to your desk. You were given a moment to sit down and collect your thoughts before the two of them joined you. Seonghwa stood on the other side of your desk while Hongjoong sat down right next to you- he had dragged a stool back and plopped it down right next to you.

The difference between the two was almost comical: Seonghwa keeping his distance but a watchful eye while Hongjoong saddled up close without a care in the world as he set up his lunch and dug in without a word.

“Make yourself comfortable I guess.” You mumbled, turning to your meal.

Hongjoong let out a pleased hum, cheeks full of food as he gave you both a thumbs up. Seonghwa replied with a scowl. “I guess I’ll do the talking.”

You just shrugged, focusing on your food just as Hongjoong was.

“For starters, we’ll be increasing your access to our files. We’ll be assigning you the Green Vipers which San is the most familiar with. We want you to familiarize yourself with all the information we have available and run it all by San. When he believes you’re ready, we’ll pull you fully on the case.” Seonghwa sipped on his drink, which you believed was some strawberry type if the pink coloring was anything to go by. You were still trying to wrap your head around the news that they were not only giving you access but letting you work a case. “What’s the catch?”

Hongjoong mumbled something with his mouth full of food before he was met with a glare from Seonghwa. He swallowed and then repeated himself. “Yeosang needs to install a security program on your laptop, and this is technically a test. The first time you do something to jeopardize the mission- you’re off of it and stuck at this desk with nothing to do until we can transfer you out.” He chased the food with his drink before turning to you fully. “Do well, and we’ll start you in the field where the real work happens here.”

It was hard to clamp down on the excitement that surged through you, well aware your eyes and posture lit up at the news.

“You're not just yanking my chain? I can stay?” You looked between the two, Hongjoong grinning with amusement while Seonghwa had a frown on his face but nodded. “Thank you!”

“Don't thank us yet, you have a lot to prove.” Seonghwa warned, finally digging into his food. “And we aren't going easy on you.”

“I told you I like the challenge.” You pointed at him, then looked at them each. “I know you have your reasons for not trusting me, a lot of the work you do is secretive and it's years of progress. I don't plan on undoing that, I have an idea of how bad these mafia groups are.” Some of the articles you had found during your solo research had been stomach churning. 

Hongjoong paused in his eating, nodding. “Definitely a firecracker, but I like that.”

“Captain, please don't flirt with the newbie.”

“Why not? Flirting is harmless.”

You rolled your eyes but bit back a smirk. “You're the smallest one here, I'll pass.”

“Oh? Size matters to you? I thought you liked a challenge.”

Now you did smirk. “Really? And you're a challenge?”

“I'm good at all positions, so you tell me.”

“Oh my God you two.” Pinching the bridge of his nose, Seonghwa shook his head. “I don't need this, I'm barely holding this unit together as is- can we not chase tail?”

Hongjoong pouted out his pretty lips, batting his lashes at Seonghwa. “Why not? All work and no play makes Captain a dull boy.”

“Talk about an old married couple damn.” You laughed, grinning at the two of them.

The glare they each gave you was identical. “We aren't.”

“Mhmm sure.”

“Back to the point-” Hongjoong started.

“There was no point, drop it.”

“No point yet, don't ruin my fun Hwa.”

“Please-” 

You decided to let the two bicker, watching them as you ate. This was a stark contrast to the Vice-Captain you had met before, a good portion of his icy demeanor had melted with his Captain’s partial approval. Despite his disapproving view of the Captain's current behavior, you believed that his loyalty was unbreakable.

You thought you had that once. With that thought entering your mind, you set your drink down and cleared your throat. “Was there anything else the two of you needed?”

They stopped mid bicker and turned to you, noticing your drop in mood. Seonghwa straightened, back to business. “No, I'll inform Yeosang and San to come over so you can get started on that. You can head home when San says and we'll see you Monday.” Gathering up his things he moved around the desk. “Come on Captain.” Like a mother he started picking up the mess his Captain made.

Hongjoong didn't move though, instead fixing you with an intense stare. “I do have one question actually-”

“I'll see if I can answer it.”

Hongjoong stood when nudged, instead holding up the picture of your old unit Christmas party. “Which one were you dating or sleeping with?”

First you had no idea when he had found the hidden photo as you had been right next to him the whole time. Second, his question filled you with so much fury that you surged to your feet. “The fuck?”

Hongjoong shrugged nonchalantly, setting it down. “Mmm so I was right-”

“No! None of them! They were my friends and colleagues- I didn't do anything with them.”

“Doesn't mean feelings didn't blossom.” As you glared he just grabbed the stool and moved to follow Seonghwa. “I'm not going to judge you for it, how hypocritical of me after I was clearly flirting? Relationships are something the team needs to know about, in or out of the Precinct.”

Your fire lowered to a simmer, taking a deep breath to calm yourself further. “Because they could get compromised?” You had to remember just how dangerous this unit was compared to your old one.

He blinked a few times before nodding, giving a thumbs up. “Yep, that's the reason. If it happens just let us know. Man, woman, multiple- we don't care but we do have to know.” 

“Multiple?” You squeaked out, flabbergasted as he just chuckled.

“Mhmm- we'll send San and Yeosang over, firecracker.” With the change in subject he left, leaving you too stunned to speak.

You didn't like him poking around in your personal life but you hadn't lied. Warily you picked up the picture, eyes scanning the familiar faces and softening on more than one. Multiple? That was something your old unit might have found shameful, one of many reasons your now hurt feelings were never verbalized.

That was in the past now, you just wanted to focus on the now and get through this. Stay a detective, feel like you were making a difference again, and do it right this time.

San came down the hall first, a smile on his face as he took Seonghwa's spot and leaned on the counter. “So I heard the news, you're my temporary partner?”

“Temporary?” You had fixed your desk in that short time and gathered your wits about you. 

He nodded. “Correction, more like you are under my wing. I think you'll do just fine but for starters, give me a run down of what you know.”

That you could do.

“The city is basically split in half by older, traditional Mafia and new gangs-” You started off, pulling your laptop open and looking for your notes. “The southern part of the city has always been smaller gangs, which I think the three big organizations profited off of their turf wars. That was until about a decade ago when things changed and the number of gangs lessened while their power grew. Now there are 3 major ones that, while they don't match the power of the bigger 3, they hold enough power in the city to be a threat.”

“You got all this on your own? Impressive.” He whistled appreciatively, looking over your notes. “And just from looking online?”

You shook your head. “I called in a few favors and asked some colleagues.”

“Alright let me quiz you- what are the names of the big 6?”

“The White Guardians, Red Wolves, and Golden Circle are the big 3; the others are Blue Goblins, Green Vipers, and finally the Black Pirates. They can usually be identified by some color or accessories while more important players get tattoos.” 

As if your early troubles were nonexistent, you were about to throw yourself into a tangent explaining each of them when Yeosang cleared his throat. Clenching your jaw, you just silently handed your laptop over before he asked.

“I can do it here.” Stepping behind the desk and effectively caging you in, he plugged in a flash drive and went right to work. Cornered on all sides, you pressed back into the corner to be further from Yeosang, still stinging from his earlier comments. 

“You were saying?” San urged as if sensing your distress.

Tearing your eyes off of Yeosang you looked back over to San. “The big 6- right. I can give you territorial layout as well as their main operations. It's just a rough outline, since I don't have access to your files yet, but it was the only start I could think of.”

Once more he whistled appreciatively, grinning to the point you could admire his dimples a bit more. “That's still impressive. We gave you a hostile work environment and limited resources and you deduced that much from this desk?”

You could feel the tips of your ears burning but paid no mind to it. “It's really just basic knowledge that any of the members of these gangs would know, you don't need to show praise for something so simple.”

“Mmm true. Well, enlighten me anyways. The White Guardians, what do you know?”

“They're the most secretive of the big 3, only mentioned by other gangs who had dealt with them. Not much is known by them but anytime one of their members or their sub-unit, The Silver Dogs, get in trouble with the law, everything seems to get wiped clean. All that's known for sure is their territory is the northwest where crime levels are low. I would suspect they mostly likely have law-” You stopped yourself, realizing you were just about to divulge too much information.

But San was watching you with intent, motioning for you to continue.

However when you were about to relent, the deep voice next to you reminded you that the two of you weren't alone. “They most likely have the largest amount of dirty law officials, cops, judges and congressmen in their pocket. Right?”

You looked over at him, nodding slowly. “I kept that out of my notes though…”

“I didn't have to read them to know. We assumed the same. They will be the hardest to take down- if we can at all.” He went back to your laptop, messing with some download screen with a quick moving bar under a bunch of code.

Your shoulders slumped at that admission. “If you can't completely eradicate the criminal organizations, what goal do you have?”

“Lessening it. Crime is never going to go away, there will always be people who play by their rules and corrupt others- our job is to prevent as much damage by those groups as possible and diminish what we can.” San's tone was softer than before, as if urging you to have some hope.

You wanted to. “I see-”

“Onto the next one- The Red Wolves.” He prompted.

Clearing your throat you went on another tangent. “The Red Wolves are Northeast along the river. Out of all the organizations they have the dirtiest hands and some of the most ruthless. Crimes of human trafficking, and prostitution rings as well as the most recorded crimes committed by minors and to minors. They have the biggest feud with the White Guardians who, according to some Red Wolves, have been interfering with their work for years now. They are also the only gang that doesn't go through the Black Pirates for access to transportation by water considering they have territory of half the river. What really makes them fierce is their hitman unit the Crimson hounds. Whatever their tactics, it's enough to keep the others from attempting to interfere.”

“Again- I'm really impressed. Now the last one, the Golden Circle.”

“Center city and the oldest of the three. Most likely composed of corporations that use the Golden Circle as their cover for illegal activities. Their main motivator seems to be profit by any means stemming two sub groups: The Pink Boas and Gray Bones. The Boas are a believed-to-be all female group that handles underground brothels and club life in downtown. The Gray Bones are their equivalent of the Hounds, their hitman group. Out of the three mafia families, this is the only one that's been hit by the newer gangs.”

“Oh? Why do you think that?”

“Territory massacre in the west between them and the Blue Goblins. The Goblins won,  gaining access to downtown enough to spread out their drug distribution. They are the most power hungry, even using minors. They have a lot of younger members, runaways and troubled kids from the slums, so they feel as if they have something to prove and nothing to lose.”

Yeosang slams your laptop shut suddenly, spooking you out of your rant that you might have been getting too passionate about. “How do you know?”

“Excuse me?”

“How have you gathered information like that? From this desk?” He was staring you down with his jaw clenched, leaving you perplexed.

You narrowed your eyes in response. “Because I remember quite a few of the names that came up- they were kids I had to arrest, that we had to charge and interrogate and send off to Juvie. So I knew some of them.” You crossed your arms over your chest. “Or did you forget that and just want to assume I'm involved?” The sneer came out from habit but it was too late to take back now. 

Yeosang sighed, pushing the laptop towards you. “I know your file inside and out; you're too impulsive for it. Although you act like that… like you have nothing to lose and everything to prove.”

You lifted a brow, stepping closer. “So what if I do? Do you think it makes me any less of a detective?”

“Of course we don't-”

“I wasn't asking you, San.” You winced as you said it. “Shit I'm-”

“No no it's okay.” San stood up straight, avoiding your eyes. 

“I'm done here so I'll be leaving.” Yeosang said instead, making a hasty retreat and leaving you with a bad taste in your mouth.

Swallowing hard, you leaned on the desk to try and capture his eyes with yours. “San? Are you pouting?”

“No-” He most definitely was. “Okay maybe. I don't know how they can stand it when you snap at them, it wounds me.” He put a hand over his chest, effectively lifting some of the tension.

“It was a reflex, I'm sorry.”

“Hmmm…. Apology accepted. Now, where were we?” He flashed a charming smile that disarmed you and had you scrambling for your train of thought. 

Already Yeosang was forgotten again and so were his words. At least for now.

Taglist (form): @mingsolo | @wowie-hockey | @crispybaguettes | @tiny-apocalypse | @philijack | @lelaleleb | @idfkeddieishot | @isiloiale | @candypop1611 | @vannabanana1995  | @piratequeen-queenofgames | @starstruckforyou | @minheeskitten | @amphiroxx  | @cloudysannie | @fire-and-flame | @sugarnspice630 | @hongjoongswifefr | @sanhwalvr | @plutoneu | @auroreen | @sousydive |  @fatalt | @asteroidshowers | @Bts-army380 |

[lost-girl-2021]

Adopted Spider Headcanons (Metkayina Edition)

I've been reading fics where Spider's adopted by Ronal and Tonowari the past couple days and now I'm obsessed. The problem is that I mostly write angst and I really wanna read hurt/comfort, lol.

I feel like the typical/common way that I see Spider get taken in is basically him doing his little beach bum shit after everything and slowly getting adopted into their family. And I eat it up. Every. Single. Time.

Spider: *Building a campfire, roasting his own food* Ronal/Tonowari/Tsireya or Anoung: *Why is the Sully's adoptive son alone on the beach?* *Oh well, mine now*

I feel like Ronal would definitely be way at first, she's made it no secret that she strongly dislikes Sky People. But, I'd imagine that eventually, she comes to see him not just as a human, but as a child. And a child who is alone and in need of help.

Aounung would probably be the same. I have this idea of him giving Spider a hard time (after all the carnage/damage/dead people have been handled). Like, trying to mess with him as much as possible, just being an asshole. And then, maybe Spider goes under for a long time while Aounung is on the beach weaving or something. And, even though Spider has a mask and can breath underwater as well as he does above it, Aounung somehow forgot that and freaks, thinking the human has drowned.

Aounung tossed his half-repaired net aside, diving into the water. He whipped around, eyes catching on the mess of dirty blond. Pushing further, he grabbed the boy by the armpits, shooting to the surface and pulling the human onto land. He flipped him over, meeting confused eyes as he placed a hand on his chest. He was breathing fine, not even panting from being under for so—

Spider's mask glinted in the sun. Aounung was an idiot.

"Are you . . . okay?" The smaller boy asked hesitantly, making no move to sit up.

"You were under for a long time." He mumbled, pulling away.

Spider's face split into a grin. "Did you— did you think I was— "

"Quiet." He hissed, standing up. "We will never speak of this again."

Spider's laughter followed him as he stormed away.

I feel like with Tsireya, she would've immediately been all over him. Like, this is Spider, Lo'ak's supposed best friend. The human boy who acted just like he was Na'vi. It probably started mostly as curiosity, but I think that after seeing how the Sully's interacted with Spider, she'd be confused about his place, his family. If Spider didn't sleep in the Sully's marui, didn't eat with them— then where did he do those things?

Tsireya glided along the water, Lo'ak a few feet from her. "Why doesn't Spider stay in your marui?"

Lo'ak raised a brow. "Uh . . . I don't know. He lives with the humans, I guess. Always has."

"But . . . the humans left after helping Kiri. They have not returned."

"They . . . they haven't?" He cleared his throat. "I'm sure Dad has it handled. There's probably a new shack or something for him."

Consider Spider's mask running low and there isn't a spare anywhere. As a kid, he never was gone from the shack long enough for his battery to run low and during his time with the recoms, there were always spares in someone's pack when he needed it. Idk how long the masks last, but for my own sake, I'm going to say Spider got a new one the day of the battle and it lasted him about a week. Or maybe, he managed to pillage one as the ship went down so he's on his second and it's like two weeks or so.

I think that when he saw the little red light flashing, a small beep-beep sounding, that he'd probably be like a kid who forgot there was a test. He'd just panic. But, I imagine he'd also be scared to bother the Sully's by telling them, so he'd spend the next hour searching the village (discreetly) to see if there were any pilfered batteries or masks left behind when the humans visited. Let's say he has two hours from when the mask starts flashing to change it out. And where, oh where, does he wind up when he's got a half-hour left?

Spider was not panicking. Because, when a human panicked, they breathed faster and wasted more air. Norm told him that, so it had to be true. But, he'd checked everywhere he could think of and . . . nothing. There was no shack, no Norm or Max to run to before his timer ran out. No humans. Only him. And in a matter of . . . fuck, twenty minutes, he was going to die just like a human.

He sat slumped on the beach, looking out into the water and trying his best not to openly sob. He didn't want to die crying like a little baby. It was not working out well for him. At least, he'd have a good view when he died.

"Child? What is wrong?"

Spider flinched, looking up with wide eyes at the clan leader. He'd only talked to Tonowari once, when Jake had introduced him. Of course, given his spectacular luck, the man would find him when he was on death's doorstep.

With a sniffle, he held up his beeping pack. "It's almost out. Twenty minutes."

The man frowned down, grasping the device carefully. "And that is why you're so upset? Because, you don't wish to go into the village for a new one? Did something happen? Someone make you feel unwelcome?"

"There is no new mask." There was also no home to go back to. "That was my only one."

With a cut-off gasp, he pulled Spider to his feet. He marched the boy through the village and into what he recognized as the healer's marui. The Tsahik was mixing something, but she stood as soon as they entered.

"Tonowari?" She asked, stepping closer. "What happened? Is he hurt?"

"His mask, where's the spare?"

Wordlessly, the woman pulled a mask from one of the many baskets, easily connecting the tubing and turning it on. Like, she'd done it before. Spider had no time to ask why she had such a thing before she was right in front of him.

"Take a deep breath." She ordered, unlatching the straps of his mask before pulling it off. Just as quickly, the new one was secured. Spider hadn't even moved.

I think that even before deciding to adopt Spider, Tonowari and Ronal would probably make sure he had spare masks and check what food he could/couldn't eat. Like, as soon as they realize the Sully's aren't caring for him, they'd probably subconsciously take responsibility for him. Because, he was just a kid, really. And kids were clumsy and careless and needed help, needed parents. Anoung and Tsireya, despite being independent and skilled, still needed their parents sometimes. Let their mother do their hair and insisted on their father de-gutting their catches. And Spider— Spider is fragile. He's skilled and smart and quick on his feet, but he's a human surrounded by Na'vi. Not to mention, one wrong move and he's left with a cracked mask. And what if he eats the wrong food, mistakes one fruit for another and ends up poisoned?

This ended up way longer that I thought it would be, lol. But, I really love these types of fics and if anyone has any recs or wants to hear more, my comment section is open. XD

[hetaherr]

spending habits

:wriothesley modern au!

:fluff, crack, mentions of swearing, gender neutral

i thought this would be pretty funny, a little ooc and definetely self indulgent because i love recieving stupid gifts- hell i love buying myself stupid things from aliexpress LOL. and for those with gift giving as your love language, NO SHAME!! don't feel bad about it, ur deserving of all your cute little presents and trinkets, anyway ily <3 reblog to win ur 5050s

"holy shit"

wriothesley raises an eyebrow as he flips through a few documents in bed, he looks your way with anticipation. he watches you blink at your phone, proceeding to look back up at him, then back to your phone in utter disbelief, eyes wide and mouth agape, he can't help but chuckle.

"i just got some email confirmation, of- hear this, three hundred, three hundred fucking dollars."

you say, shoving the phone in wriothesley's face. he squints at how your phone is set at a level of brightness that put even the gates of heaven to shame. he stays quiet as he barely skims through the email before shrugging.

"yea i know, i paid for it."

as he says so nonchalantly, he sees your face distort into that of pure horror. what does he mean by, he paid for it?

"you really don't remember?"

he laughs. the sound of his voice usually makes you feel various emotions, all dancing around the themes of love and passion, but now you would have to add straight terror to the list as your heart sinks to the depths of your stomach. his big hands let go of your phone, and make its way to cup our cheeks.

"when i picked you up last night, you were pissed drunk-"

he chuckles as he interupts himself. his thumbs caressing your plump and soft cheeks. you await him to continue, dreading to hear what ridiculous scheme you managed to come up with while drunk.

"and though i'm not sure where you got this idea from, you kept insisting that i wasn't spending enough money on myself-"

"no...."

you interupt, gasping as you realise where the conversation was headed. wriothesley smiles at your reaction. clearly he doesn't feel like the situation is that big of a deal and it leaves you baffled at the fact he seems to be taking it so lightly.

"i simply said i'd rather spend my money on you and i really don't think i've seen you look so excited in my life. we spent the evening browsing your wishlist, you certainly had some odd things saved might i add."

he laughs again so unphased, while you were absolutely destroyed and horrified by your actions you were visably shrinking under the covers.

you couldn't bare to look at him, face red and the feeling of guilt was so heavy, not to mention the embarrassment you felt. you were really going through it... once again his warm hands make its way under the sheets and snaked around your waist. there's a soft hum of your name and as relieved as you are that he doesn't seem angry at the three hundred over dollars missing from his bank account, you simple can't bring yourself to look him in the eyes as he joins you under the blanket.

"my my, aren't you cute."

he says in that awfully familiar tone, the one he uses when he knows he has an advantage over you. he looks at your flustered face, the same face that manages to tug at his heartstrings everytime he sees it. you mutter countless apologies and promises that you'll definetely pay him back, as you bury your head into your hands.

"hm? i'd much rather you didn't sweetie, no matter how much money you decided to milk out of me it'll never reach the extent of which, i love you."

bonus: you decide not to look through the list of items that drunk you had insisted on getting and throughout the next few weeks, you and wriothesley would find packages addressed to you on the doorstep. it feels sorta like christmas and you open it together, some items are so ridiculously niche and some even straight up useless. you both have no idea what to do with it but it does do a good job at making the both of you laugh. wriothesley's favourite is when a piece of clothing comes, obviously he asks you to model it for him, spinning you around and even going as far as whistling at you when it's something excessively skimpy.

[soaringthroughthegalaxy]

Hello. It's Talita from Ao3 here, I said I would come. 🤭😂 So I'd like to request Hunter x shy fem reader with the last smutty prompt: ❛ i love that no one else has seen you like this, that no one else has felt you before, been inside you. they don't get to have you, but i do. ❜ Maybe the reader's inexperience might come to the surface when they're all in 79s and a drunken Crosshair suggests she get someone to f*c*? But reader waits for the right partner. ♥️

Hey Talita! Thanks for the request and all the love you’ve been sharing 🥰

Shy readers seem to be the flavour of the moment, as I just went out with one for Crosshair!

This one ran away with me. It’s my longest to date. Hope it's okay 😊

Waiting for You

A night out at 79’s leads to a revelation that surprises the whole batch, and with feelings becoming increasingly more difficult to hide, it was only a matter of time before you and Hunter reached a crossroads. (Pre Echo)

Pairing: Hunter x f!reader

Word count: 6.8k

Rating: 18+ MINORS DNI!!

Warnings: friends to lovers (🤌), Cross is a shit stirrer (what else is new?), alcohol consumption (but both parties are sober for spicy time), sibling teasing/banter, sweet sweet tension and yearning, sexually shy!reader, virgin!reader, first kiss, first time together, oral (f!receiving), light fingering, unprotected PiV, reassurance and comfort, pet names, praise, sprinkle of dirty talk, soft aftercare.

Translation: (Mando'a) Gar ru'lis ganar kaysh. – You could have her.

The thump of the music wasn’t so heavy, tucked away in a back booth of 79’s. It wasn’t often you visited, preferring to frequent other bars and clubs whenever you and the boys had shore leave - there were perks to them not looking like Regs. However, 79’s was close to where you were all staying and cheap enough that the few credits you’d all managed to save would go much further than they would anywhere else.

Wedged between Wrecker and Hunter, with Tech and Crosshair taking up the seats on the opposite side of the booth, you watched as Wrecker pried a well-worn card from the pile in the middle of the table. During your last Venator stop, you’d made a few trades with some of the Regs and had walked away with a small pile of loot, including a set of ‘drink or do’ cards. They were common amongst the clones during downtime, providing distraction and intoxication.

Wrecker flipped the card over, huffing as his eyes skipped over the text. “Let the group message anyone on ya datapad or take two shots.” He read the card aloud.

Crosshair’s hand immediately extended for the datapad, fingers curling in a ‘give it here’ gesture. A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, and you laughed as Wrecker huffed, handing over his device to his younger brother.

“You are aware this is a group effort, yes?” Tech asked, leaning in towards his twin to look at the screen. Out of all of you, Tech had elected to stay sober, hating the way his mind went fuzzy with the effects of alcohol. One of you needed to ensure you all returned to the hotel in one piece.

The deadpan look Crosshair gave him pulled a giggle from you. You were several drinks deep by now – some of the cards you’d drawn had been wholly inappropriate, so shots had been the only option. Everything felt good, your inhibitions lowered, and you knew you were safe. Your men would look after you. 

A year you’d been with them, traversing the galaxy, trying desperately to keep them alive. Nat-born medics were a rarity in the GAR, but sometimes they were called in. You’d been head-hunted from Coruscant Medical after the Batch had been out in the field for a few months –they hadn’t gotten on well with the Reg medics initially assigned to them.

“Please pick Fox.” You insisted, leaning a little across the table. Gasping, you had a new idea. “Wait, no! Wolffe.” You leaned back with a wide grin, enjoying Wrecker’s groan. Knowing Crosshair, the message would be salacious, and you knew a few of the men in the Wolfpack who would absolutely fill you in on their Commander’s reaction in the morning.

Crosshair lifted a finger, pointing it at you. “I like the way you think, doll.” He complimented. Only when he was several drinks in did his tongue loosen and compliments flow more freely.

“That’s why you keep me around.” You tease, watching as the sharpshooter taps out a quick message. A gentle hand on your knee has you turning your attention to Hunter, your smile widening at his touch and how he pushes a glass of water closer to you, encouraging you to hydrate properly to stave off a hangover in the morning. Warmth seeps through you at his care, and you’re grateful for the cacophony of sounds and stimuli in 79’s that mask the way your heart rate spikes a little.

Although Hunter indulged a little this evening, he knew his limits. He’d been nursing a Tsiraki for most of the night. If he wasn’t careful, it didn’t take much to frazzle his senses and cause a two-day migraine. Keeping his wits about him also meant he could look after you. 

Nestled between Wrecker and himself, the laugh lines on your face and the glint in your eyes told Hunter that you cherished these moments despite the chaotic nature of their lives. He appreciated how you fit into their world, understanding their quirks and unspoken communication. You navigated the challenges of their unique existence with a grace that fascinated him. To him, you weren’t just their medic; you were their companion, their confidant, a source of solace in a gritty galaxy.

Hunter’s gaze lingered on you as Crosshair added the final touches to the message. The playful banter and easy camaraderie were the moments he adored the most. Yet, beneath it all, there was a yearning, a quiet ache that he couldn’t quite put into words.

He saw the weariness that sometimes lingered in your eyes – chased away this evening by liquor and laughter – and wished he could erase the shadows that sometimes clouded your gaze. It fuelled his desire to protect and shield you from the harsh realities that had become their norm. 

Taking a sip of his Tsiraki, Hunter let his gaze linger on the curve of your profile. The way your hair fell, and your fingers traced absentminded patterns on the table while you chatted with his brothers stirred something within him. Something that he wanted to grab with both hands and hold close.

Lost in his thoughts, he almost missed the moment you turned to him, your eyes meeting his with a warmth that sent a shiver down his spine. “What do you think?” You asked. “Suitable enough?” 

Hunter blinks once, twice, and then nods. “Sure, sounds good.” He answers, having no idea what you’d been asking about. As you turned back to face the others at the table, Hunter caught the knowing look Tech sent him. Try as he might to hide that ache in his chest, his brother was too smart to miss it.

“Ya can’t send that!” Wrecker protests, mild panic in his eyes as Crosshair, eternal torturer of his siblings, grins at his brother as he pushes the send button. “Ahh, I don’t wanna know if he responds.” Wrecker shakes his head, though a smile also tugs at the corners of his lips. He turns his head towards you. “You’re next.”

Reaching for the stack of cards in the middle of the table, you pry the top one free and pull it towards you. You scan over the instructions, grimacing. “Name five different places you’ve had sex or take three shots.” You read it aloud, tossing the card down onto the table.

Beside you, you feel Hunter shift, Wrecker and Crosshair break into laughter, and Tech offers you a sympathetic smile. With a resigned sigh, you reach for your glass. But before you can grasp it, it’s snatched away from you. 

“Cross!” You gasp, jaw slackening as you watch mischief dance in the sniper’s hawkish eyes. 

“You’ve skipped out on nearly every ‘do’ task tonight. But you’re not skipping this one.” Crosshair insists, dragging your drink away so you can’t take it back. His motives were two-fold. One, he was nosey. And two, he wasn’t stupid. He’d seen the way Hunter had been looking at you for months now, and watching his older brother squirm as you shared your sex life would be fantastic. 

With a huff, you cross your arms over your chest, resting your elbows on the table. “Is your sex life so bland you have to live vicariously through mine?” You tease, arching an eyebrow. Boisterous laughter erupts at the table, and you can’t help but giggle along. 

Crosshair scowls. “Please. I could have any woman in this place.” He snorts, leaning in and lifting a hand with his five fingers up. “Five places. I’ll count them off for you.” He challenges.

“Nu-uh.” You refute, unfurling an arm to wag a finger at him.

“Only kriff in a bed then. How boring.” He can’t help but bite back, turning the tide onto you.

Rolling your eyes, you huff, used to this song and dance with him. “No.”

“Out with it, then.” He pushes.

Worry curls through you. You trusted these men with your life, knew that their teasing was all light-hearted and they’d never genuinely mock you, but some things were private. “Cross…” You mumble, fingers finding the neckline of your shirt to play with the fabric nervously. 

“Pretty little thing like you probably has many stories to tell!” Wrecker laughs, giving your shoulder a light nudge.

You laugh awkwardly, trying to make up some stories on the spot, ones you can quickly sell, teeth sinking into your lower lip.

Curiosity painted itself on Tech’s face – he’d spent long enough studying your body language to aid him in understanding nat-born social cues, to pick up on the subtleties. “You do not have any stories.” He states, with no judgement in his tone.

The certainty of Tech’s comment captures Hunter’s attention, and he tilts his head in your direction, brown eyes taking in the nervousness and mild panic that’s now on your face.

“Don’t tell me you’re a kriffing virgin…” Crosshair is equal parts horrified and amused. There was no way in hell you – you – hadn’t been with anyone.

Embarrassment seeps through you, and you drop your gaze to the table, fingers going back to trace the patterns of the wooden surface. 

Crosshair couldn’t believe it; this was wilder than any other confession they had shared during the night. “You’re kidding me…even Tech’s been laid a handful of times, and you haven’t?”

Tech sighs at his twin’s barb, though he’s used to them by now and doesn’t take it to heart.

At your silence, the boys share a glance, trying to hide their surprise at the situation. 

Mulling it over, Crosshair looks around the bar. “Plenty of pickings in here. Then again…Regs.” He sneers.

“I don’t want a random hookup. I want the right one.” You admit quietly, shyness taking a front-row seat.

Crosshair baulks. “Oh, hell. You want romance and love.” The idea horrifies him even more. He goes to speak again, but Hunter interjects.

“Crosshair…” Hunter warns, voice low. He’d picked up on your discomfort and wanted to end it.

A smirk tilts Crosshair’s lips at the reprimand. He’d opted not to say anything or show his hand in the past, keeping his knowledge about Hunter’s affection for you quiet. “Gar ru'lis ganar kaysh.” He teases with a toothy grin, unleashing that hand.

Tech and Wrecker can’t hide their snorts of laughter at his words. Hunter’s lips press together, and he huffs, reaching for a card to bring the focus back to the game and off you. Crosshair’s dark chuckle seeps into the air, delighted at getting a small rise from his older brother.

The Mando’a catches you off guard – you didn’t know enough to understand what had been said, but the laughter and Hunter’s reaction had you frowning. The boys had only taught you the odd word or two as they didn’t use it as much anymore.  As Hunter pries his card from the pile and flips it over, he places his hand back on your knee under the table, reassuringly squeezing it. Reaching down, you give his wrist a light squeeze, appreciating that he’d taken the heat off you. His hand stays in place as he reads the card aloud, and the game continues. 

Your shore leave had been a welcome reprieve, especially as six back-to-back missions had followed it. You’d wrapped up the latest hours ago, and the Senator you’d helped had been exceptionally grateful for the assistance. He’d offered for you all to stay on the planet for a little while to rest in one of his many hotels. A quick comm to Command had seen it okayed for two days, so here you were, hanging out on the balcony of Hunter’s suite.

You’d accidentally discovered that you had connecting rooms, having knocked on a random door in your suite and been amused to find Hunter on the other side when it had opened. He’d immediately invited you in, and you’d headed for the balcony to watch the city go by while he finished the last report. Crosshair and Wrecker had gone off searching for food, while Tech had decided to tinker with his latest project.

Leaning against the railing, laughter from down below captures your attention. Eyes falling to where the sound was coming from, you watch a couple embrace on the side of the street, sharing lingering kisses. From your vantage point, you can make out their broad smiles.

An ache settles in your chest, that old pesky feeling of yearning tugging at you. Unconsciously, you tug your cardigan around you a little tighter – whether to keep out the chill in the wind or offer some comfort, you don’t know.

In the suite, and with the reports finished, Hunter pauses at the doorway, unable to pry his eyes off you. Something about how you’re standing, the expression on your beautiful face, makes unease sink into his gut. He wants to chase away whatever is making you look so sad.

It was becoming harder and harder for him to ignore his feelings, to tamper them down, especially as he knew his brothers were all aware. How long would it be before you picked up on it, too? That blasted night at 79’s kept replaying in his mind, his fingers itching to reach for you at every opportunity and to make a move before someone else snapped you up and took you from him. Hunter knows he doesn’t have much he can give you and can’t promise a safe or long life together – anything can happen in a war – but he knows he can provide you with romance. He knows he can make you the centre of his galaxy, and you’ll never have to question his devotion.

But would you want that from him, though? It was the one thought that stopped him.

Realising he’d been watching for a while, Hunter joins you on the balcony, moving to your side. You don’t startle; you’re used to him and his brothers silently approaching by now. He follows your focused gaze, watching a couple on the street share kisses before flagging down a taxi. “They look happy.” He comments quietly, wondering if that was the cause of your sadness.

“Mhm.” You hum in agreement, wondering for a moment longer what it would be like to be so carefree and in love. Before falling too far down the ash-rabbit hole, you focus on the man at your side. “Plans for the evening?” You ask, changing the subject while hoping to lighten your mood.

Not wanting to push, Hunter lets it go and instead lifts a hand to count off each element of his plan on his fingers. “Room service, a holodrama, and sleep.”

“Okay there, Grandpa.” You tease, the wind whipping around you a little more as you break out into a smile.

Hunter’s pretty sure your smile could end this war if you turned it on the right people. With a fond shake of his head, he chuckles. Unable to help himself just this once, he reaches out and gently tucks a stray strand of your hair behind your ear.

The action makes you pause, smile faltering, lips parting slightly in surprise. For a moment, you look at one another, the air seeming to crackle with something. Hunter had always been soft with you, but he’d been even more attentive since the night at 79’s.

“Join me?” He asks, not willing to let you go just yet.

“Sure.” You reply with a soft smile, not even needing a moment to think about it, and Hunter leads the way back into the suite. The balcony door closes behind you, muffling the sounds of the bustling city outside.

You settle onto the couch and Hunter orders room service. As you wait for the food to arrive, you fall into easy conversation, discussing missions, the state of the galaxy, and anything else that comes to mind.

The food doesn’t take long to arrive, the aroma filling the room, and you both enjoy a quiet dinner. Between you, you select a holodrama that turns out to be surprisingly entertaining. But as it progresses, you find yourself drawn to Hunter’s presence. His arm casually rests against the back of the couch, not quite touching you but close enough to send a shiver down your spine. A fluttery feeling erupts in your belly as your brain helpfully supplies that this kind of thing always happens in the trashy romance novels that clog up your datapad.

Nearing the end of the holodrama, a feather-light touch brushes against the nape of your neck and you instinctively lean into it. Hunter’s fingers trace gentle circles, and you feel a warmth spreading through you. Glancing towards him, you find his gaze fixed on you.

“Sorry.” He murmurs, withdrawing his hand slightly.

“No, it’s... nice.” You respond, surprising yourself with the admission. Hunter’s hand returns and the soft touch continues.

Hunter is at war with himself – if there was ever a time to make a move, it would be now. His senses are on overdrive, homed in on you, picking up every errant breath you take, the heavy thud of your heart, and your soft swallows.

The weight of the moment sits, the holodrama becoming background noise as you witness the conflict in Hunter’s gaze. It doesn’t last long, though, and the subtle touch on your neck becomes bolder, his hand shifting around to cup your cheek as his thumb brushes against your lower lip.

Inexperience makes you nervous, heart thumping wildly. You go to dip your head to break the eye contact, but Hunter’s pointer finger hooks under your chin to stop the movement.

He leans in slowly, closing the distance between you, giving you time to pull away if you’re uncomfortable. But you don’t. You remain still, those pretty eyes of yours focused on him even as your heart rate spikes and your breaths turn a little shallower with anticipation. “Cyar’ika…” He murmurs, a hair’s breadth away from you, gaze dropping momentarily to your lips.

The flood of feelings instead of you is overwhelming - excitement and nervousness, worry and anticipation. It’s hard to single each one out. You’d been telling the truth in 79’s - you were indeed waiting for the right man - but you’d omitted that you were sure it was the man now sat at your side, letting you decide whether to push your friendship into something more.

You lean in ever so slightly, and finally, his lips brush against yours in a tentative, exploratory kiss. It’s soft and sweet, testing the waters. Your eyes flutter closed, savouring the warmth that spreads through you.

The kiss deepens, becoming more passionate, and you respond eagerly. The taste of him, the feel of his hand on your cheek, it’s much more than you expected.

Hunter’s other hand moves between you and the couch, resting on the small of your back, pulling you closer. Your hands find their way to his shoulders, fingers intertwining with the fabric of his shirt as he draws you onto his lap.

Breaking the kiss, Hunter pulls back slightly, his eyes searching yours for any sign of discomfort. Instead, he finds his desire mirrored. “You okay?” He double-checks quietly, his breath mingling with yours.

You nod, a small smile playing on your lips. “More than okay.”

Hunter grins, his thumb gently caressing your cheek. “Good.” He whispers before capturing your lips in another kiss, the intensity growing between you. The holodrama plays on, completely forgotten, as you lose yourselves in the moment.

The touch of his lips and the warmth of his embrace all feel right. Hunter’s hands explore your back, and you feel the gentle press of his fingers as they slide under your shirt, sending shivers down your spine. Eventually, you both pull back, foreheads resting against each other as you catch your breath. The air is charged with electric energy, and the room feels warm.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for a long time,” Hunter admits, his voice a low, smoky murmur, but conflict shines in his eyes. “I can’t give you the things any other man could. There’s no guarantee of tomorrow. I know it’s not right an-“

You meet his gaze, feeling warmth in your cheeks. “It is right.” You cut him off softly, breaking eye contact, focusing instead on the slight hollow of his throat as nervousness sweeps through you. “This... with you, it feels right.” You confess quietly.

Delight simmers in Hunter’s veins, and his fingers trace patterns on your back. He still feels guilty, but if this is what you want, and you’re sure it’s right, then who is he to protest? Pressing a kiss to your forehead, he smiles. “Then I’ll do everything I can to ensure you always feel that way.”

Your fingers find his chest, the buttery softness of his shirt doing nothing to conceal the firm muscles beneath it. A slight hum of contentment slides from him as you brush your fingers up and down his sternum. The nerves are back, your eyes flitting up to gaze at him, noting how his own are closed and contentment is painted across his face.

On your next stroke down, your fingers dip slightly lower, catching the first few ridges of his abs. A deep rumble vibrates his chest, giving you courage. Head tilting down to watch your actions, your heart pounds as your fingers skirt close to the hem of his shirt – and the waistband of his pants. A tattooed hand wraps around your wrist, stilling your motions, and you look up from under your lashes.

Meeting your gaze, Hunter’s thumb rubs small circles on your pulse point. “Feels good, cyar’ika. But there’s no rush.”

“I know, but…” You trail off for a moment, averting your gaze. “I want this. I want you.” You confess quietly, feeling warmth return to your cheeks as you chance a glance at him. “I’m tired of waiting, and I-I want you to be my first…”

Hunter was a good man, a strong man, but hell if he didn’t crumble at your confession. His fingers find your face, tilting your head upwards so he can look at you properly. He was touched by your admittance but didn’t want you to regret anything. “Promise me?” He asks gently, knowing how much value you placed on promises.

Meeting warm brown eyes, you couldn’t help the soft smile that crossed your lips. You were nervous, yes, but this felt right. “I promise.”

Leaning in, Hunter’s lips capture yours in a heated kiss. His hands shift, moving to cup your ass, and he lifts you up as he stands. The small noise of surprise you let out and how you grasp at him for stability draws a deep chuckle from him, though the sound is muffled by the kiss. It’s only a few steps over to the bed, and as he lowers you down gently onto the plush surface, he follows, hands smoothing across your hips as he rests a little of his weight against you.

Lips trailing from yours, he drags kisses across your cheek and down to your jawline, following the curve of your throat, giving a light nip as he reaches the juncture where your shoulder and neck meet. How your hips buck at the contact, breath catching, clues him in to how much you enjoy it. Your hands shift down Hunter’s body, and he can feel the nervousness rolling off you. Propping himself up above you with one hand, he uses the other to guide your hands towards his body, encouraging you to touch him in return. “There’s no reason to be nervous. We only do what you’re comfortable with.” He tells you, wanting to make that abundantly clear. “And we can stop anytime.”

You nod, chest rising and falling with each quick breath as your hands meet Hunter’s body. Encouraged, you explore the ridges and planes of him, fingers smoothing over him before gripping his narrow waist. His mouth is back on you, dragging across your throat, pulling soft noises from your lips as you familiarise yourself with the man above you. As your hands shift, a flash of courage rips through you, and you reach down, one hand landing squarely on his ass, giving the firm muscle a soft squeeze.

Hunter startles, not expecting the action, and warm puffs of his breath fan across your neck as he chuckles. “Cheeky.” He murmurs against your skin, the vibration of his laughter sending pleasant shivers down your spine. The atmosphere in the room is charged with a mix of desire and nervous excitement as you continue to explore each other.

Hands pull at clothes, material discarded, fluttering to the hotel room floor as acres of skin are revealed. You’re warm to the touch, the earlier chill from the balcony chased away by Hunter’s hands. Self-consciousness creeps through you as your underwear is cast aside, thighs pressing together to try and hide yourself.

“Cyar’ika…” Hunter tuts, strong hands moving down your body until he can rub and squeeze at your thighs. “Don’t hide from me. Wanna see all of you.” He murmurs, kisses trailing down your body. Tongue gliding across your breasts, he draws a nipple into his mouth, the corners of his lips curling upward as you gasp, your fingers tangling in his hair.

Pleasure rolls through you as you tug gently at Hunter’s brown curls, back arching to press more of yourself against him. He’s warm against you, bronze skin and dark ink pressed as close as possible, and it’s difficult to ignore the weight of his half-hard cock against your thigh.

Switching his focus to your other nipple, Hunter lavishes it with the same attention before he starts to creep back down your body. “Wanna taste you.” He breathes against your stomach, lips drawing across soft skin, fingers teasing your thighs. “Make you feel good.” He adds, pausing to glance up the length of you, finding your eyes focused on him. He can see your trepidation but also your burning curiosity and desire. “No one’s done that for you, have they?” He asks with no judgement.

Embarrassment burns through you, teeth sinking into your lower lip as you shake your head.

Hunter’s heart aches. How had no one loved on you before? Their loss was his gain, he supposed. “That’s okay.” He reassures you, pressing a kiss to the juncture where your thigh and hip meet. “Only if you want.” The reminder is gentle, fingers skirting back up your body to not put pressure on your decision.

You know you could say no, and that would be the end of it, but you’d seen many women enjoying it on the holonet, and they certainly seemed to like it in the novels you vicariously consumed. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to try. “Please.” You push out the word, embarrassment still sitting in your chest, though it evaporates when you meet Hunter’s hungry gaze.

He hadn’t been expecting your agreement, content to work you up in other ways, but that soft little plea from your lips sent fire through his veins. Hands finding your thighs once more, Hunter slowly pushes them apart. “A little wider, baby.” He encourages, a deep groan vibrating in his chest as you follow his order, and he shifts to lay between your thighs, greeted with the prettiest pussy he’s ever seen. Dropping soft kisses to your inner thigh, his tongue darts out to wet his lips.

Eyes flitting up to gauge how you’re faring, his cock twitches where it’s trapped between his body and the mattress as he catches you watching him. Holding your gaze, he leans forward, nose pressing against you as he inhales, committing the intimate scent of you to memory.

He starts slow, a gentle press of his tongue against your entrance, dragging it up through your folds until his tongue flicks over your clit. You jolt, letting out a small keening noise that he’s desperate to hear again.

Spurred on, kitten licks accompany broad, sweeping tastes, soft open-mouthed kisses dropped against heated flesh as Hunter closes his eyes and focuses on bringing you pleasure. His tongue drags across your clit again, and he grunts as your fingers, tangled in his hair, try to drag his face impossibly closer.

You’d watched for as long as you could, engraving the sight of Hunter between your thighs into your mind. Head tilting back, eyes fluttering shut, warmth coils through you. Letting out low whimpers and quiet gasps, your hips rock, chasing the pleasure he’s so beautifully giving you. Now you understood the fuss, why all those women on the holonet and in the novels adored this.

Lips wrap around your clit, and your grip on Hunter’s hair tightens as the pleasure curling through your body climbs, the light suction and the rapid flick of his tongue across the sensitive bud pushing you ever closer to the edge. The warm wetness of his mouth was better than anything you’d ever been able to achieve with your fingers.

“Hunter.” You moan out his name, enjoying the groan he lets out in response. One of his hands slides up the bed, fingers interlacing with those on your free hand as he doubles-down his efforts.

Most of the time, Hunter considers his heightened senses a curse rather than a blessing, but right now, with the scent of you in his lungs, the taste of you on his tongue, and his name falling from your lips like a prayer, he’s never been more grateful for them. Tuning into your body, to every thud of your heart, every sharp inhale, and the little whines you let out, he uses them to guide him until you’re close, teetering on the edge.

Two fingers enter the mix, pressing against your entrance, slipping in with ease as Hunter laves kisses and licks across your folds. His lips find your clit again, applying light suction as he crooks his fingers right against that sweet little spot.

Caught off guard, you come with a cry, the noise echoing in the room as the pleasure that had been building crashes into you. Thigh’s quivering, tiny trembles coast through your body as you pant through the high, body going pliant as your release works out of your system.

Enraptured, the pride Hunter feels is undeniable as he pries his fingers from your pussy, sliding them into his mouth to clean them off and savour the taste of you even more.

Staring up at the ceiling as you drag your breathing under control, a small snort of laughter escapes you. “Oh, stars, you can do that again whenever you want.” You vow quietly, enjoying Hunter’s chuckle as he shifts back over you, capturing your lips for a deep kiss, the tang of you lingering in his mouth.

As Hunter pulls back, he rests on his knees between your thighs, soaking up the sight of you naked. He still can’t believe this is happening, that you’d chosen him.

Your gaze travels over his body – broad shoulders, firm chest, defined abs. He was gorgeous enough to be a carved statue in a fancy Naboo garden. Eyes roaming lower, you swallow at the sight of his cock. Hard and flushed, it twitches with his heartbeat, girthier than you’d expected.

“It’ll fit.” Hunter can’t resist teasing, tattooed hand shifting down so he can give himself a few lazy strokes. The way you watch the movement gives him ideas for the future. “Still want this, love?” He checks in.

Your earlier nervousness is still there, but it’s smothered by anticipation. Eyes flitting up, you meet Hunter’s gaze, parting your thighs just that little bit more.

Delight flares in Hunter’s eyes, and he moves to rest back over you, one hand supporting his weight as the other stays wrapped around his dick. Holding your gaze, he drags the velvety head between your slick folds, enjoying the way your breath stutters as he brushes against your clit.

“I’ve got you, princess.” He coos, lining up before pressing forward. “Doing so well.” Hunter praises, focused on your face and your body’s reaction as he bottoms out, hips flush to yours.

The sensation is unlike anything you’d experienced before. The stretch burns slightly but gives way quickly to pleasure as he feeds the last inch of his cock into your heat. Love and adoration weave through you, that earlier sense of rightness rearing its head as you squirm a little beneath him.

Hunter’s now free hand drops to your hip, grip firm as he holds you still. “Just…give me a second.” He murmurs, voice strained as his eyes close. “Been dreaming about this for a long time, and if I don’t take a few breaths here, I’m gonna kriffing embarrass myself.”

The revelation that he’s dreamt of this moment makes you involuntarily clench around him.

“Not helping…” He growls quietly, words lacking any bite. You feel like heaven, like everything he’s ever wanted and desired.

Mirth dances in your eyes as you lift a hand to trace along his inked jawline, still unable to comprehend that he wants you and that he’s buried inside you, the two of you connected in the most intimate of ways.

Dark eyes snap open at the contact, and Hunter takes you in, soaks in the sight of you sprawled underneath him, hair fanned on the pillow, lips plush from kisses and eyes still a little hazy from your orgasm. “Kriff, baby. I love that no one else has seen you like this, that no one else has felt you before, been inside you. They don’t get to have you, but I do.” He rasps, letting the last fragments of his feelings for you eke out of the box he’d kept them locked away in for far too long. “Feel so good wrapped around my cock.” He groans.

Hand leaving your hip, Hunter tilts your head back up as he sees it start to dip down. “Don’t go getting shy on me now.” He whispers. “Keep those pretty eyes on me.” He slowly draws his hips back, watching as your lips part and the sweetest sound slides from between them as he pushes himself back inside. Hunter takes his time, building up the pace, focusing on every noise you make, every shift of your body, every flutter of your heart.

With every roll of Hunter’s hips, that earlier pleasure starts to build again. Hands grasp at his sweat-dampened shoulders, providing leverage as you move with him, the harsh sounds of your breaths filling the room alongside the noise of your bodies meeting. The air feels hot, matching the heat inside you as Hunter’s lips crash against yours, devouring you. A whine escapes you as his tongue presses forward, tasting you. It’s unrefined and needy, his usual self-control long thrown out of the hotel room window.

“That’s it, baby, that’s it. You can give me one more. I know you can.” Hunter whispers against your lips, pulling back just enough to slide his free hand between your bodies, thrusts never faltering. Dragging his lips across your jaw, he peppers kisses down your throat as his fingers circle over your clit once, twice, and on the third round, he nips at your throat.

The building pleasure slams into you, tipping over into ecstasy as you cry out his name, back arching, and body clenching around him as the high washes through you. Panting for breath, nails digging into Hunter’s shoulders, you coast through the feeling, small shakes rocking your body as Hunter’s hips snap against yours a little roughly.

The way you’d tightened around him, the sound of you crying out his name in the throes of pleasure, it was all too much for Hunter. “Kriff, cyar’ika. Where?” He asks between ragged breaths, thrusts sloppy as he closes in on his own climax.

It’s probably a stupid idea and could go very wrong, but it’s the first one that comes to mind. And you’re desperate to experience it. “In me. Come in me. Please.” You insist.

Hunter crumbles for the second time this evening, unable to deny you anything, consequences be damned. A few more rough thrusts and he’s growling out your name, pressing himself into you as deep as he can get, lips finding yours for a passionate kiss as he finds his own release, cock twitching as he fills you.

His hips slow to a stop, and your kiss turns softer and more reverent as the haze of lust dissipates. Hands stroke across each other’s bodies reverently, lips parting as Hunter mouthes down your throat to the spot he’d nipped earlier, pressing open-mouthed kisses to your skin. He sucks lightly, just to leave the slightest mark, so faint that unless someone was standing right beside you, they wouldn’t see it.

Contentment curls through you, hand brushing Hunter’s hair, fingers snagging on his bandana. Feeling cheeky, you pry it off, wrapping it around your wrist, enjoying how his eyes darken.

“Playin’ with fire again, cyar’ika.” Hunter murmurs, lips moving up to ghost across the shell of your ear.

A smile paints itself on your lips. “If that was me getting burned, then tie me to a stake and call me a Nightsister.”

Hunter’s whole body shakes with his laughter, amusement shining in his pretty brown eyes. “Oh, one day I’ll tie you to something, don’t worry about that.” He vows.

A thrill shoots through you, your own laughter joining his. As it fizzles out and the room falls silent, you’re left staring into each other’s eyes.

“How’d you feel?” Hunter asks, slowly shifting you both down onto your sides. The movement has him slipping from you, and you wince a little. Hunter’s arms loop around you, drawing you close.

“Loved.” You answer honestly.

“Good.” Hunter smooths a hand across your hair, pushing it back from your face. He captures your lips for another soft kiss. “Because you are.” He shares as the kiss breaks.

Warmth sweeps across your cheeks again. He was getting too good at pulling this reaction from you. “As are you.” You reply, wanting to ensure he understands how much you care for him in return.

Hunter’s smile is blinding as he draws you closer, suffocating the space between you, tucking you safely under his chin. Burying his nose in your hair, he inhales deeply, picking up on your combined scent.

As the night draws on, the two of you lay entwined, finding comfort in the shared warmth of your bodies. The soft glow of the cityscape filters through the window, casting a gentle illumination in the room as you share quiet conversations.

As sleep begins to claim you both, you whisper a quiet promise into the stillness of the night. “No matter where the stars take us, I want to be with you.”

Hunter holds you a little tighter, kissing your forehead in silent agreement. Together, you drift into dreams, wrapped in the warmth of love and the certainty that, no matter what challenges awaited, you would face them together.

[theglamorousferal]

Persephone's Binding Part 6

AO3 Prompt Part 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12

Jason crouched into a fighting stance, mimicking Danny. They began to circle each other, making a complete circle of the training ring in the process.

"One of us has to move first, and you're the one who wanted to test me." Jason quipped. Danny lunged, intending to hit a spot of fabric visible between Jason's armor.

Jason dodged, then went to hit Danny in the middle of his back, only for him to fall through him. He tucked into a roll and popped up on on knee. "Okay, now that's not fair. Density shifting? Didn't think I'd be fighting someone like the Martian."

Danny paused. "Martian?" He shook his head. "Never mind, I can ask later. I'm already handicapping myself with like half, the shit I can do keeping projectiles outta the fight. At least let me keep my basics."

Jason looked at him suspicious. "What are your basics?"

"Oh just intangibility, invisibility, flight and super-strength." Danny grinned like the little shit he was. Definitely a younger sibling. Jason thought. He rolled his eyes and got to his feet, ending up in a fighting stance again.

"Yeah, but If I can't touch you at all how are you gonna gauge how I fight?"

Danny tilted his head and squinted his eyes at him. "You have a point." He pouted. "Fine, I need dodging practice anyway."

"Good, now come at me." Jason gestured. Danny gave up trying to obey gravity and flew straight at Jason's mid-section, intending to tackle him. He was not expecting Jason to flip out of the way and to the side, before landing facing where Danny now was positioned.

Danny growled and then leapt towards Jason swinging at his face; Jason did not expect the kick to the stomach. With the air punched out of his lungs, Jason swiped at Danny's head, intending to knock him over. He only managed to send him spinning towards the railing before Danny caught and righted himself.

"You good?" He asked as Jason wheezed a breath in.

"Yeah, I'm good, when was the last time you fought a human kid?"

Danny froze for a moment before a dark look passed over his face. "About seven months. And I was aiming to harm." He shook himself after a moment before a guilty expression flashed across his face.

"I'm good, I promise. Just maybe pull it back a little so you don't accidentally break a few ribs." Jason waved him off, jumping a bit and getting himself psyched back up. "Let's go."

They continued to spar for hours. Danny won the first match, then Jason. The third they got each other locked in a grapple that neither could break and called it a draw. They moved onto weapons after that, first with swords, edges dull for training, then staffs. After a bit they broke for some water.

"So, your sister mentioned you were attending IRU? What's that?" Jason asked after chugging half a bottle.

"Oh, Infinite Realms University. There were a bunch of entities, ghost and neverborn alike, whose obsessions are either teaching or have decided that to feed their obsession and therefore existence, that they would teach others about it. It started as a group of ghosts who manifested together and then slowly expanded to cover every conceivable subject or degree. Myself and a couple of friends are trying to put together a way to do online classes so the people in Amity can attend."

"Oh, so they take full humans?" Maybe I can get a degree if I'm stuck here.

"I mean, they take anyone at all if they can handle the ambient ectoplasm."

"Right, you have both mentioned that. What exactly is ectoplasm? I nebulously know it has something to do with ghosts, but nothing further. Ghosts aren't really a thing in my world as far as I'm aware."

"Right, Jazz mentioned you're new to literally all of this stuff. We grew up with it and then I have it as a lived experience. Here's this is a form of ectoplasm." Danny allowed ectoplasm to pool in his cupped hands. It was florescent green and giving off a glow that shone across Danny's armor.

"That looks like Lazarus water but not bubbling. Can I touch it?"

"Probably not until we get your soul looked at. I mean, I can see it if I look, but I won't know what I'm looking at."

Jason paused. "You can see my soul?" He asked, incredulous.

"Yeah, it's something I've been working on with some of my teachers. Kinda tricky to learn, and you need a proto-core at least to do it. It's taken me a few years to get it down right, now I gotta take more lessons on recognizing differences and classifications, I need to learn before I take the big chair." He chugged the rest of his water bottle and wiped his face with his arm.

"You nervous?" Jason asked.

"Wouldn't you? All I did was fight a dude like I always did to save my town and it resulted in being ghost royalty." He grumbled.

"I mean, I tried to steal the tired off a car and it resulted in me being able to summon mystical glowing swords."

"No way."

Jason smirked and stood, holding his hands out and willing the All-Blades to appear. Glowing flame-like blades sprang to life from his closed fists.

"Okay, that's pretty cool. I mean, I can do that with ice too, see?" Danny holds out his own hands and two swords made from ice appeared to grow from them.

They both looked at each other's weapons, then caught each other's eyes and smirked in unison. "Race ya to the ring!" Danny yelled then lumped high into the air above Jason who scrambled towards the ring.

[tgrailwar-zero]

And after that performance, the fight was over. You felt JAGUAR MAN give you a hearty pat on the shoulder.

JAGUAR MAN: "Now that was a fight, kid! You should feel proud. Little Miss Samurai should have been returned to the fighter's resting area."

With that, she walked out.

You stepped out of the locker room and returned to find MUSASHI was back in the rest area, laying down. She had taken her eyepatch off, though she sat up when you approached.

MUSASHI: "So? Pretty cool, huh?"

She had her Flame Pad on her lap, and you saw she had a few new notifications that she hadn't opened yet. She flipped it open and unlocked it, before handing it to you with a yawn.

MUSASHI: "Here you go, 'Manager'. I'll let you handle that, I'm kind of beat."

You looked at the notifications as she went back to lounging.

New Messages: ⟡ {ADAMAS} - 1 New Message! (Woah, now that…) ☠︎︎ {MNSLYR} - 1 New Message! (yeah, thats about…) ♛ {JISHNU} - 1 New Message! (Quite the show…) ☀︎ {CITT} - 1 New Message! (Lady Samurai, I've…) ❀ {JERAN} - 1 New Message! (Good game, Saber!…)

-

Recent Messages:

✴{JAGUAR} - Admin: JAGUAR MAN † {FATHER} - Admin: FATHER KOTOMINE ✘ {BLADE} - Fighter: WANDERING BLADE

-

✩ {3STAR} - Fighter: TRI-STAR ☕︎ {CHAJIN} - Fighter: CHAJIN ✴ {EAGLE} - Fighter: CUAUHTLI 🗡{STRONG} - Fighter: STRONG MASK ➶ {KARASU} - Fighter: CROW PRIEST ༄ {MOBYDK} - Fighter: MOBY DICK 𓆟 {WTRREV} - Fighter: WATERSIDE REVENANT 𖦹 {TWISTR} - Fighter: FLESH-TWISTER 🗲 {THUNDR} - Fighter: THUNDERER

--

You checked the available messages.

--

-{ADAMAS} -- [ Woah, now that was what I'd call a fight! I knew from the moment we met you were more than just a beautiful flower, but a special blossom with razor-sharp petals! Spend the evening with me, please! You're beginning to consume my thoughts, and I feel like I'm falling in love all over again!

Hi, this is Adamant's manager. We will make sure that he behaves himself if you choose to meet with him. ]

--

-{MNSLYR} -- [ yeah, thats about what i expected from you, saber. sleepin on the job and somehow pullin off a win? what kind of stupid shit was that lmao. man we better get a chance to fight or i'll be pissed.

listen, i can't meet now, but drinks tonight? you've earned it.

again, congrats. since your fight was goin on at the same time as the whale, you should actually feel pretty damn impressed that lady cleopatra was lookin at your bout more than the damn sea monsters. also the whale won (obviously) so thats your next opponent. so uh. good luck. or maybe i should be tellin that to the fish? ]

--

-{JISHNU} -- [ Quite the show you put on, Saber. It even had me on the edge of my seat! I'm assuming you've heard my deal with your allied Caster and Rider? If you claim victory, then I'll pull some strings and allow you a personal audience with Pharaoh Cleopatra. However, I do also have information on a certain Archer you may have been acquainted with in ages past. Curious? You're curious, aren't you? I'll send you my current whereabouts, and I'll expect to see you there. I'm not a man that likes to be kept waiting, however. ]

--

-{CITT} -- [ Lady Samurai, I've heard legend of people like you, those that people outside of the 'Solar Cell' deemed as 'Heroic Spirits'. I could tell from the way you battled that you must be one of them, though I apologize if I'm being presumptuous. Still, if I am correct, to have a chance to meet you in person would be a great honor. I understand you may be busy and certainly receiving a large amount of requests after such an exciting first match. However, if you do have the time to spare, I would be grateful to receive it. ]

--

-{JERAN} -- [ Good game, Saber! Talk about bad luck for me, getting put up against someone as formidable as you. Ah, but I guess I'm in the loser's bracket now… oh well, it's not a huge loss. As always, my services are available if you want some information on your opponents. Not every fighter is going to be as weak as me, you know. Not right now, though, I need time to recover, haha. Still... man, katanas really are the coolest... ]

--

It seemed like there were a few options already.

Going to a fight allows you to meet with at least one of your currently allied Servants, though their own availability may vary as the arc continues. It may also create a chance encounter as well.

[bomberqueen17]

sewing and dyeing

I have managed to achieve some sewing!

I finished the silk dress from the yardage I'd dyed around Christmas, even hemmed it and everything, I feel very accomplished. So that's done.

And the linen bias-cut slip dress I made around Christmas, which I never wore anywhere because it was white-- I've managed to dye it, and it came out much more interesting than I'd expected! So, pictures and discussion behind the cut.

[image description: A mirror shot of me, a fat blonde white woman, in a grungy basement, wearing a clingy white knit tank top with a drapey cowl neck]

Firstly, I made this tank top (I bound the armholes, it looks nicer that way)-- started with the Cashmerette Wexford top, then used this tutorial from Threads Magazine to hack a cowl neck onto it. Ages ago I'd had a cowl neck sleevless top that I loved, and wore holes in, and couldn't find one again. So I used a yard or so of very slinky knit, probably some kind of rayon blend from Dharma would be my guess.

I tried it on, and immediately threw it in the soda ash solution to dye it because I don't need a white top like this, it'll get shit dripped on the tit immediately so I might as well give it a busy dye job. I will make more of this top in other fabrics, but 1) make the cowl just a bit longer so it drapes farther, and 2) make the self facing deeper, I feel like this one is going to flip out all the damn time.

I also think I'll hem this shorter, but I haven't hemmed it at all so far so it remains to be seen.

Secondly, I have nearly finished this button-up camp-collar shirt from the Cashmerette Club, in a natural linen that I have so many yards of from an old project I never did.

[image description: me in the same grubby cluttered mirror view of my basement, wearing a gray shirt, slightly wrinkly, with unfinished sleeve edges and I'm holding it shut because there aren't buttons on it yet. There are two breast pockets and one is significantly higher than the other.] So the breast pockets are optional and uh I am definitely only going to put one or zero on the next one of these I make because I checked and rechecked and rechecked and this is literally the best I could do at making them even??? ugh also they don't sit right because there's a bust dart and one of them went on ok and somehow the other one is overlapping the bust dart slightly, which means it's Not On Straight. Just.... not optimal. I get why there are pockets but I also super get why they're optional. No thanks!

I hate the interfacing too, it was awful to work with and feels like paper. But once I've finished and washed this I hope it will settle down. (In the past I've used shitty salvaged interfacing for things I was making, and used spray adhesive and sewed the edges where possible, and it worked fine. This, I splashed out and got the stuff in the package that's ostensibly meant to fuse on with your iron and guess what doesn't fucking work? that. So it's been just a nightmare and I'm not buying the nice stuff again because it fucking sucks. I get that you don't want to not interface the collar of a shirt like this, and the button band would be awful un-interfaced, but christ, I'm using the flimsy salvaged shit I cut out of an old bedskirt next time.

The directions on this pattern are... well as long as you know what they mean it's great. But there's a video sewalong, and that helped a ton. This is a very complicated pattern and yet somehow none of it has been beyond me, even though i sewed one bust dart inside-out first thing, and immediately also sewed the yoke to the back inside-out, and then right away also assembled the collar inside-out because I was so distracted by how much the interfacing did not actually fucking do what it was supposed to (yes i followed the package directions, no it did not fucking fuse). I got a lot of seam-ripping done, is all. (It really is a cool pattern, and if you manage to get through the directions, which are extremely specific, you wind up with a fully-finished interior with almost all the seam allowances beautifully enclosed-- it's cool as fuck.)

I have fabric already set aside to make at least two more of these. IDK how much I'll wear them but I love them. (I *have* coveted a shirt-dress for years, with one Almost Okay from Torrid that I wore a lot but have recently realized looks awful on me actually, so I will be making it a dress too, no fear.)

But then! Also: Dyeing!

So I looked on Dharma Trading for their tutorials and was not disappointed. I don't want to do traditional tie-dye, but I want the effect I got at Christmas with the silk scarves that I space-dyed. I don't have to steam-set fiber-reactive dyes, so that's a plus.

I saw this tutorial on dharma for ombre dyeing and I'm super gonna try that next, but haven't yet.

Tie Dye Tutorial on Dharma Trading: this is the one I used as a starting point.

So I dissolved a cup of soda ash in a gallon of warm water, put that in a plastic bucket, and soaked my fabric for 5-15 minutes, and then I decided to do a kind of gravity-based thing with squirt bottles and a spray bottle. I hung a clothes hanger from the gas pipe in the ceiling, put a big plastic mortar tub underneath, put a smock on myself, mixed up my dyes (and urea and in some cases salt, as directed by dharma the all-knowing-- half-cup batch size for the squirt bottles, and quarter-cup sizes for the spray bottle), and got to work one garment at a time.

I put some pleats into the garments and held them with clothes pins. Then I sort of "drew" along the pleats, picking a color to be the tops, and a second color to squirt into the valleys. I filled in with the spray bottle to highlight the pleats more, since that would hit the outer parts of the folds but the interior would be shadowed and stay white; then I could go draw in those white areas with my shadow color.

Everything then would drip down toward the hem of the garment, though there wasn't really that much movement; if I wanted a drip to cascade, i had to draw it down there myself with the squeeze bottle.

[image description: two squeeze bottles with narrow nozzles, and a spray bottle of more rigid plastic with a pump-dispenser top, sitting on top of a piece of stained scrap fabric on an old washing machine with tubs of dye powder sitting in the background.]

I also did a shirt where I spread it out on a rack in a pan at an angle, and sprinkled a mixture of dye powder and salt on it. Then I went and used the squirt bottles too, but it was a fun technique and I'd use it again.

[image description: a garment lies in loose folds, speckled with dark blue-green spots, and at the top decorated in splotches of blue and green.]

I wrapped the garments in plastic, and put the smaller ones into plastic bags, and then hung them outside in the sun so that a) the dye would flow downward rather than backstaining the areas I'd meant to leave white, and b) the sun would warm them so the dye could cure, and c) the plastic would keep them wet because the dye only chemically sets while damp.

Let them cure for 24h, and then today I brought them in and rinsed them for about a thousand years, and then washed them and gave them a soak and rinse in dye-fixative, then dried them on the line.

Here is the linen bias-cut slipdress I made at Christmas time, dry and ironed.

[image description: a dress on a hanger, with my hand pulling out one side of the skirt: the straps and neckline are bright emerald green, and then the body is streaked vertially with varying shades of green, teal, and dark blue, with a little purple at the hemline. The colors are light and a little muted, and some white shows between them in a few places.]

The linen took the dye lightest, the cotton a little darker, and a small offcut of rayon I'd had sitting around took the dye darkest of all.

here's everything still damp on the line:

[image description: under a blue sky, a metal clothes-tree-style line on the left has several small items in shades of green and turquoise, and then a line crosses the screen from right to left through the middle, with several items hanging on it. In the background are two cotton dresses, one mostly teal and the other green at the top with a white and purple skirt, then the linen dress from above in the middle, and closest to the camera is a mostly-quite sheet of fabric with geometric lines in green, blue, and purple.]

The foreground fabric is the rayon, and I sandwiched it between two blocks of wood with rubber bands holding it in place, and just saturated the edges with dyes. I'm extremely into it, it came out beautifully. i have more rayon so I am going to make something from that to ombre-dye, for sure.

I have severely overdone my physical activity the last two days though; I lay awake for a couple of hours the other night with my sciatic nerve just burning, and I expect the same tonight. We'll see though, maybe I'lll be pleasantly surprised, or just lucky.

Oh yah I'm trialing Ritalin, but just like the other medications, it's such a low dose and it's not extended-release. I looked up how to take it and the directions assumed I'd been given two or three pills to get through a day. Not so! So I have about four medicated hours in a day, and keep experimenting with where to put them. I don't notice it wearing off the way I did with Adderall though, so there's that at least.

Maybe by the end of May I can try a full dose of something, and see if that helps. IDK, it seems like it might.

[theshireisburningg]

I don't like that when they threw me in the car I gave your name as my emergency phone call Honey, it rang and rang even the cops thought you were wrong for hanging up I dial drunk, I'll die a drunk, I'd die for you

Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson | 2k

“It’s the Harrington boy again, can you tell Hopper we’re bringing him in?”

Steve leans back against the headrest and watches as Officer Powell bends through the window to speak into the radio, eyes linger on Steve as he speaks with a disappointed shake of his head.  He turns to talk to Officer Callahan and Steve only catches on to parts of the conversation, realizes he's not getting off easy when Officer Callahan gets into Steve's car, pulling it off the curb and away from the scene.

The blue and red lights that were painting the street shut off as Powell gets into the driver's seat, silent as he follows Steve's BMW down the back roads.

The ride to the station is uneventful, with occasional radio messages coming through that Powell seems to ignore. The real problem starts the second he's through the doors of the station, staring down Hopper who stubs his cigarette out and stands, marches until he's only a foot in front of Steve.

"What is your problem?" Hopper's voice is quiet, but Steve knows him well enough to pick up on the angry clench of his jaw, and sees the look he shoots Powell, who drifts down the hall in an attempt to give them privacy.

"Callahan and Powell are so fucking dramatic, you know that right? I didn't do anything."

"Thirty miles over the speed limit? Drunk off your ass, nearly taking out a fucking telephone pole, you're telling me that's nothing? Doesn't sound like nothing."

"Jesus, everyone goes thirty miles over on Franklin, the speed limit is a joke."

“Yeah? And a man was left paralyzed last year after he flipped three times on the corner near Rich’s farm. Is that a joke too?”

Hopper levels him with a look that tells Steve that was a rhetorical question and you better not respond. He waves Powell back toward the two of them.

"Book him overnight."

Steve's eyes widen, feels that punch in his gut when Hopper just gives up on him.

"Hopper man, come on. Don't do this, I'll pay whatever bullshit fines you want me to, just let me go home."

"I'm not doing it this time, Steve. I know you've been through shit- we've all been through shit, but just... treating your life like it's nothing? Putting yourself in danger when you know there are people that rely on you? My kid relies on you. I'm not doing it.  You're on your own for this one."

It hurts more than he thought it would, hearing Hopper go from angry to downright disappointed in him. He’s through the doors before Steve can respond, and Steve is left alone to stumble after Powell towards the back room.

The actual cell room is quiet, only occupied by one other person, an older guy Steve has seen pandering outside the package store on multiple occasions, curled up and asleep on the far bench. It reeks of cigarettes and damp cement, has Steve scrunching his nose.

"Anytime now."

 Steve sees that the cell has been unlocked by Powell who gestures him in.

Steve racks his brain for any way out of this, thinks of earlier in the month when he narrowly avoided this exact situation, and grasps at straws for a rescue plan.

"Wait I- I definitely get a phone call. That's like, the law or something."

"Oh, suddenly we care about the law, Harrington?"

Steve purses his lips and stands his ground outside the cell.

"I'll be quick."

And Steve thinks Powell must have had a shitty day because with nothing more than a sigh the door is closed with Steve still on the outside, a receiver pushed into his hand.

"Quick."

Steve dials fast, punches in the only number he's ever managed to memorize. The line rings, and rings, until Steve is eventually met with a beep, quiet static signaling the answering machine picking up.

“Shit..." Steve trails off, realizing in his haste to get a call he hadn't planned as far as what to actually say when he got through. He struggles through a half-assed explanation of his night.

"Hey, it’s um.. it’s Steve. There was a mixup and I’m at the station and Hop is being a pain in my ass. If you uh- wake up and hear this I was thinking maybe you could come pick me up?" Steve pauses, sees Powell watching him, and picks up on the hurry it up in his glare. “Anyway, I, uh- I love you. Call back if you can.”

When nothing else comes to mind, Steve hangs up, hoping he sounded more put together than he feels.

"No luck, huh?" Powell raises an eyebrow, and gestures for Steve to return to the cell.

"Fuck off. He'll call back, it's just late." Steve says with no fight, dropping down onto the metal bench with a clank.

"Mhm. I'm sure."

Once the lock clicks Steve tilts back, runs a hand through his hair and down his face, feels the exhaustion setting in. Now that he's sitting still it's hitting him how fucked up he got, how drunk he still is.  The room spins, and he closes his eyes in an attempt to drown it out.  The sound of the clock must lull him to sleep, because the next thing he knows he's jolting awake, takes a second to get his bearing, and realize that Callahan has taken over and is banging on the bars to get his attention.

"What?"

"Jesus kid, I said you got a call. You gonna take it or not?"

At that information, Steve rises quickly and stumbles towards the barred door now being held open for him. He grabs the phone resting on the countertop and answers with a breathless exhale.

"Hello?"

"Are you fucking serious, Steve?"

Eddie sounds pissed, even over the phone, and Steve flinches back from the receiver.

"I... uh-" is the most articulate response he comes up with, trails off into silence. It seems like Eddie wasn’t done with what he had to say anyway.

"This is the second fucking time this month, I mean... you're so selfish Steve you know that? I should just fuckin' leave you there. I mean- what gives you the right to call me and expect me to drop everything to come and save your ass? Again?"

"Baby, I'm sorry, I-" Steve sees the eyebrow raise from Callahan, ignoring the voice in the back of his head telling him, to stop talking. Eddie cuts him off, probably for the best.

"Don't fucking baby me Steve. Get real."

Steve doesn't respond, has no clue what to say, but forces a loud breath out to let Eddie know he's still on the line.

"I'll be there in fifteen. Fuck." The last thing Steve hears is the phone being slammed again the hook on the other side, and Steve stares into the receiver like he'll see Eddie on the other end, pictures him fuming as he paces the hallway of the trailer. 

___

It feels like he's back on the metal bench for an eternity before Eddie is coming through the door and Steve catches a glimpse of Hopper, who must have stayed at the station after all, whispering final words to Eddie who nods and enter the room alone.

Eddie hangs by the door, stares Steve down intensely but remains absolutely silent, only stepping close to slam a few bills on the counter to pay Steve's bail and pocket his car keys, ignores the mumbled thank you and retreats back to the door to wait for Steve to finish the paperwork.

Steve doesn't try to speak until they're in the privacy of the van and waits until they're backed out of the parking spot to say something.

"Eddie."

"Don't."

He does, anyway.

"Thank you."

"Do not thank me.  I cannot explain to you how much I don't want to be helping you right now."

"Then why did you?"

Eddie glances at him quickly, doesn't let the eye contact linger for more than a second before he's staring back at the road.

"I don't know Steve. Because I love you? Is that what you want to hear? Because despite the fact that you don't care about me- at fucking all- that I still drop everything to help you even when you don't deserve it?"

Steve sits up straighter, eyes fixed on the side of Eddie's face, and sees the pain there in the flashes of the street lights.

"I care about you. I love you. Why would you say I don't?"

"Because if you loved me you wouldn't get fucked up- on who knows what by the way- and almost drive yourself into a fucking ditch."

"Hopper is overexaggerating. I had two beers at a party and there isn't even a ditch to drive myself into on Franklin Street anyway."

Eddie sighs and shakes his head at Steve's words.

"And if you loved me you wouldn't lie to me about this shit. I've been dealing since I was fifteen you think I can't tell you're high off your ass?"

At the acquisition, at Eddie pointing out the truth, Steve has no response, and they sit in silence for the rest of the drive.

There are lights on in the trailer when they pull up but Steve is still careful to shut the van door quietly in hopes that Wayne is asleep because the last thing he needs is to disappoint the other half of his honorary father figures.

Luck continues to not be on Steve's side, as it turns out, because Wayne is sitting on the couch when he trails in behind Eddie, sets his coffee mug down, and stands to greet them.

"Son."

Steve nods and hovers back. He would usually greet Wayne with a handshake, or a hug when it's been a particularly long time, but now he refuses to meet his eyes and counts the tiles at his feet instead of responding.

"There's coffee in the pot. I'm going to turn in for the night if you boys are alright?" He directs this part to Eddie who nods and mumbles thanks before going to grab a single mug, slams the cabinet door louder than necessary. He fills it to the brim with black coffee and stalks down the hall to his room without looking back.

Steve follows, lost, and takes the mug as Eddie thrusts it into his hands.  He hovers by the door, takes a gulp as Eddie leaves, and comes back with a bottle of aspirin that he throws on the bed.

Eddie's facing away from him, and Steve sets his mug on the desk gently, steps forward until he's wrapping his arms around Eddie from behind, tries not to think too hard about how Eddie flinches at his touch.

"M' sorry."

Eddie sighs, lets his arms hang limply at his sides but makes no move to step away from Steve.

"You can't keep doing this Steve. I'm serious. This is the last time I help because I'm not going to be a part of this whole self-destructive bullshit thing you have going on right now."

"I'm going to get better. I'm trying." He rests his forehead on Eddie's back, words muffled into the fabric of his sweater.

"That's what you said last month when Hop caught you and Tommy buying coke outside Family Video."

"I'm sorry." Steve apologizes again, feels like it's the best thing that he can come up with that Eddie won't see right through.

They stand there quietly, Steve swaying them both side to side lightly. Eddie lets him but Steve can tell he's still tense, his shoulders drawn up in defense.

Eddie is the first to break the trance and squeezes Steve's wrist lightly before prying his hand off, stepping away from the warmth of his body.

"C'mon. Let's sleep."

Steve shucks off his jeans and climbs under the covers, watching as Eddie does the same.  He takes the two aspirin handed to him dry, tosses the bottle back to the foot of the bed, thinks it might be useful in the morning when the hangover pain really sinks in.

Eddie faces away from him still, rolls as far to his side of the bed as he can.  Steve feels the distance between them and wants to reach out and pull Eddie close but knows he has no right to.

He's not sure if Eddie is asleep but he speaks anyway, a whisper into the night.

"I'm going to get better. For you. I'll do it for you."

A beat passes with no response, no sign from Eddie that he heard at all, but then he's rolling over, eyes finding Steve's in the sliver of moonlight hitting the bed.

"You have to do it for you, Steve. Don't put that on me."

"I'm sorry. I will."

Steve sees that Eddie only half believes him, and knows they've been here before, the gap between them growing every day.

But Eddie reaches out and finds his hand under the covers, and brings it to his mouth.  A faint kiss to Steve's bruised knuckles.

"I will," Steve says again, just to fill the silence. Then, "I love you," because it's the only thing he knows he can say that won't be a lie.

[empyreanwritings]

Not Your Average Birthday

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+ only - minors DNI, light smut, mentions of throat fucking/gagging, implied cheating (reader & her bf cheat on each other and they're fine with it), Gojo is a Cocky Asshole, pet names (princess, baby, etc), dirty talk

Word Count: 846

A/N: Shoutout to me for coming back to the writing world just to write something totally self-indulgent and horny. Love yall ❤️

"Happy Birthday, Princess!" Gojo sets a velvet box in your hands, and you can't help but smile.

Until you open it and see a small silver chain with a diamond studded 'S' dangling from it.

"Gojo-"

"Satoru," he corrects you.

You huff. "Satoru, you know I can't wear this. My boyfriend would flip."

Gojo sucks his teeth and gently pulls the necklace from the box. You don't fight him as he pushes your hair over one shoulder to hook the necklace around your neck. Both of you know, despite your protests, you would have worn it anyways.

"Your boyfriend knows I've been fucking you for the last year and doesn't say shit," he mumbles against the crook of your neck. "He cheats on you too, and he can't fucking take me in a fight, so wear it."

You twist the small charm between your fingers, smiling softly to yourself. "You claiming me right in front of him?"

"Baby, I'd fuck you right in front of him," he says and grabs your chin, forcing you to look away from the necklace and into his eyes. "I'd fuck you brainless, make you cry my name over and over again in front of him. Make it known that only I can make you feel that good."

"I'm surprised you even let him have me too," you whisper.

Gojo chuckles darkly. "Oh, princess, he doesn't have you. You go on dates, sure. He fucks you, occasionally. But you aren't his."

You don't know when he started backing you towards the bed, but your knees hit the edge and send you toppling backwards before you can comphrehend it. Gojo crawls on top of you, placing his hands on either of your head and knocking your knees apart so he can slide his against your core.

"You're mine," he reminds you with a cocky smile. "The second I tell you to dump that lame ass boyfriend, you will."

"Oh? You're so sure?"

His stupid smile doesn't falter as he tugs on the necklace. "I'm sure. In fact, I've decided you owe me a present. Dump him right now."

"But it's my birthday! You can't make demands on my birthday."

His knee shifts against you, and you choke back a moan. He doesn't like being told no, but he knows you aren't serious. If you were, why are you reaching for your phone?

"Princess, call him right now and dump him, and I promise I'll make this a birthday you'll never forget."

His fingers dip below your neckline, tracing along the lacy edge of your bra. He's not even touching them, but your nipples are already hard. You love how possessive you've made him just by implying he might share you with your boyfriend. It shouldn't make you wet, but it does.

You press the phone against your ear, and his smile grows. That little feral look in his eye makes your heart race, and it takes you a few seconds to greet your boyfriend when he answers.

"Is everything okay?" He asks when you don't say hello right away.

"Y-yeah," you manage to squeak out just as Gojo cups your breast. "I need to tell you something."

Gojo rolls his eyes. Why the hell were you drawing this out?

He snatches the phone from your hand and places it between his ear and his shoulder. He refuses to let go of your tit, and he needs to use his other hand to stuff two fingers into your mouth to keep you from protesting.

It works, too. The second his fingers hit your tongue, your lips wrap around them and greedily start sucking.

"So, I hate to break it to you, man, but she's gonna have to break up with you," Gojo taunts through the phone. "I don't like to share, and you're not even making her cum so what use are you?"

"What the fuck-"

"I know, I know, it must be hard finding out this way," Gojo stops and hisses when you bite down on his knuckle. "But I'll make you a promise, yeah?"

"The hell kind of promise are you going to make?"

"That I'll fuck her so dumb, she won't even remember who you are or that she was ever in a relationship with you." You moan against his fingers, and he smiles. "You have a good day now, bye bye."

He tosses your phone onto the nightstand amd forces his fingers down your throat until you gag. Tears blot at the corner of your eye, but he doesn't pull back. Only tells you to relax your throat for him.

"See, princess? You don't belong to anybody but me. Don't ever fucking think otherwise."

You nod the best you can. You're his. All his, you want to say.

He pumps his fingers in and out of your mouth sloppily, letting drool dribble down your chin and all over his hand.

"Now let me fuck this pretty throat of yours to show you what a good birthday girl you are, yeah?"

[scoonsalicious]

okay, thoughts on the latest happenings hmm, first off, I love Tony and Pocket's brother-sister dynamic, it's so funny and sweet. If it were me, I would've asked for a house and a retirement fund and a bunch more but then again, she is already working for Stark Industries, so I think she's already set lmao. And obviously, we already knew Tony didn't authorize the shit Joseph just pulled, but I'm still not buying the fact that she did it alone. I mean, she could've since she's well capable, but something is still very fishy about it.

which brings me to Steveioli (I really like the nickname now, it flows off the tongue so well), hmm, okay, I don't think he's that bad now, but still keeping one eye open because I still don't trust him. Which brings me to my first theory, I feel like this short interaction between him and Pocket is going to cause something. And Juniper will be the one pulling the strings because lol the manipulative sack of shit she is. Like, she's probably good with tech too, so what if she managed to get footage of the dance, or just Steve walking Pocket to her room and then show it to Bucky? (or maybe Steve would give it himself but i digress) And I fear that's going to trigger something ESPECIALLY knowing how Jocelyn is going to spin it. And yeah technically Bucky and Pocket aren't together albeit the blurred lines with this friendship, so she doesn't really owe him anything. But, I wished she could've told Bucky about the interaction with Steve first so he knows the truth of what happened before Jennifer manages to twist it. AGAIN THEORY. But I really do have a feeling Something is going to trigger Bucky to do something rash (not cheat, but I can't pinpoint as to what yet. Maybe some harsh words being spoken or him defending Jomar again). Either way, it's going to be related to Steve because he always seems to be a sensitive topic.

Also, to add, why was my danger alert flaring when Steve handed Pocket that lemonade? Is that me being paranoid? lol but then again, we don't really know what's going on with Pocket being sick so maybe I'm just reaching. But since I have an inkling that she was given something, I'd be wary of accepting drinks from anyone. ESPECIALLY the person who's still madly in love and probably has a secret mission to break a relationship for good. But hey, maybe that's just me.

And I'm so anxious as to what's going to happen on the mission. (help as i was typing this a theory came to mind) What if Bucky gets badly hurt because Jakari sabotages it just like she did with Rhodey? But instead of Bucky being mad at her, he's still going to defend her? Say something about it wasn't her fault blah blah blah and it's going to anger Pocket especially if badly is hurt. OR OR ON THE FLIP SIDE, what if Judith intentionally hurts herself and make it look like Bucky didn't defend her or somehow makes a spin that it was his fault? THEN he'd start taking care of her, not because of anything fishy or feeling wise, but because he feels GUILTY and feels like he HAS to which, goes back to what you said about the way he followed through with his actions. Idk idk I'm probably reaching and I could be so so wrong haha sorry i'm just a theory girly

But anyways, CONGRATS ON FINISHING THE FIC. that's a great achievement you should definitely celebrate! Though I do get this would bittersweet though. But hey, don't be sad that it's over, be glad it happened. Keep doing what you're doing! you're amazing, lots of love!

— Jnon 🤍

Jnon! Hearing from you never fails to make my day! NEVER. I love you and you're perfect. I love writing Tony and Pocket. They bring me so much joy with their banter. Right now, though, Pocket's got no need for a house. I leaned on it much more in earlier drafts, but Pocket's fucking loaded. Like, she may not be a billionaire, but she aint' hurtin', lol. Obviously, Tony didn't send Joe Jonas to Russia; he hates her almost as much as Pocket does at this point, but as for whether or not she got in on her own... well, we shall have to wait and see!

As for Steveioli, it does roll off the tongue so smoothly! There are definitely repercussions concerning his encounter with Pocket at the gala, which you'll start hearing about this afternoon! I want to say so much more, but EEP! I cannot not! I will say, the lemonade, like the Thai food, was safe. No worries there. It was more like Steve trying to make a point to Pocket that he knows her so well. Pathetically. Your theories as to what could happen on the mission with Bucky and Jabba the Hut are fantastic; I wish I had come up with any one of them, but I did not. :( And finally, THANK YOU SO MUCH! I had a moment yesterday where I typed the final sentence and was just like "shit; now what do I do with my life?" I'm pleased to say, I'm ten pages in to With Friends Like These already, so I think we'll be good, lol. And while I was so happy to finally be rid of The Famous Jett Jackson (wow-- that's a throwback; I'm old), I'm nowhere near done with Pocket, I think. I love her too much, lol. As always, I love getting your responses. They make my day! J'scoons

[latestparis-style]

My sister and I made French toast from a recipe in a fanfiction. And we took a lot of pictures.

Welcome to the LatestParis_Kitchen.

For the last year or so, my sister and I have made a fun hobby of reading the most bizarre Phantom of the Opera fanfictions we can find. Out loud, tossing the phone back and forth to each other by chapter. Neither of us read it beforehand, and it's a 10/10 experience.

There's a POTO fanfic on Wattpad by the name "Angel In Hell". It's by user: momenttodebruh. Read the fic. It's the epitome of the perfect, unhinged Y/n fic. With loads of iconic lines. My sister and I quote this fic like it's a popular TV show. Seriously, it got to the point where my mother repeated one of lines because we said it so often. This fic is (intentionally or not) hilarious and a masterpiece.

In the fic, the protagonist, a Y/N my sister and I dubbed "Bitch", makes her "famous French toast™" to impress the manager into hiring her as a chef at the opera house.

The best part?

The recipe is followable with exact quantities given.

Here are screenshots from the fic:

I refined it to this recipe:

You know, just in case you're a freak who wants to try this.

My sister, Beth, and I have joked about "Bitch's famous French toast™" every time we make regular French toast, and today is the day we decide if her recipe would make us hire her.

Beth can make a mean French toast, so let's see how Bitch's famous recipe measures up.

Here's all the ingredients. We are following this shit as closely as possible, so no half batch. 6 eggs and all.

We thought we would only need four slices of bread. God were we mistaken.

Just as a side note, Beth and I were doing this while our parents were out to dinner, so we're on a time crunch. Sorry for any blurriness in the photos!

Here's the 6 eggs. This is the least gross looking photo I managed to take. Also, Beth is method acting, look at the Victorian lace on those sleeves.

MAY I PRESENT THE TEASPOON OF THE ONLY SEASONING! CINNAMON Y'ALL!

We added the vanilla extract here too, but I believe it didn't change much.

Okay, so we used our four slices only to discover that there was half the batter left. Beth suggested we make it to freeze. She has much more hope in Bitch's Famous French Toast than I do, but I agreed. We were drenching these slices, so maybe you could get more out of this recipe.

haha, this is where shit hits the fan, or egg hits the pan? Anyway, the house started to get a little smoky. Our house has smoke detectors connected to the alarm system, so if they go off, the firetrucks are coming. We burnt about half the French toast, so I took the smoke detectors off the walls. Then the alarm started... beeping? It wasn't blaring, thank God, but I'd never heard it beep before, so Beth opened all the windows to air out the house, and I had to awkwardly call my dad like: "heh, we made French toast, so if you get a call, don't let the fire trucks come. oops."

Only after that did I realize that the alarm was beeping because I took the smoke detectors off the walls.

So I put those back on.

We were simultaneously laughing our asses off while flipping out about the possibility of firefighters coming to our house because of a fanfic. It was fun. Certainly intensified this experience.

And in the end we had...

A strangely eggy, flavorless stack of "Bitch's Famous French Toast"

Some of them were very burnt, but that's down to Beth and me. Y/N doesn't hold any blame.

Look at all that toast (eight fucking slices) and keep in mind that Firmin canonically eats the entire stack. And, AND! It was so good, in the next chapter, he call for it to be served to the whole opera house.

Beth quote: "It really just tasted like eggs. The cinnamon didn't do much, but because the egg soaked into the bread so much, it had this strange, bizarre custardy quality?"

Her rating: 4/10

I, as a person with celiac disease, had to make it on gluten-free bread. It's worse that way: 3/10

After eating, uh, some of the French toast and freezing the rest for a moment of hungry desperation, we sat on the couch to collect ourselves. I started typing up this post, when our upstairs TV miraculously turns on (it turns on with any change in the room's lights, and it's extremely annoying).

What is it playing?

KITCHEN FUCKING NIGHTMARES

Which, in fairness, we had been watching earlier. Gordon Ramsay was speaking to our souls while we sat on that couch.

Side note, please don't take this as us hating on this fic. It was our single biggest inspiration while writing "A Girl's Desire" and we genuinely adore it for all it's worth.

If the author sees this, I will be starstruck.

[zephyra-in-the-house]

Heya zephyra

How're u doing 💓

Um u got any tips on how to start or make a fanfic ?

I wanna write my own fanfic I just don't know how to start

I already got my OC done and the back story of my OC

The only problem is how to start 🫤

Thought maybe ask someone with experience like u ❤️‍🔥

So u got any tips or advice ?

Thanks 😁🫱🏻‍🫲🏼

That's a good question!

Honestly, I'm not sure how I've managed to get this far in my writing. It amazes me just how many people follow Second Chances and continuously read each new chapter. I never once thought that I'd get to this point but I'm very grateful for all the love and support I've been shown because it just motivates me to keep writing~

With that aside, I started out on a pretty big scale when I first started writing fanfics. I've written two so far and basically it started as one little scene that I had in mind and then I built around it.

I'm not sure how other writers do it but I think my way may be a little unorthodox LOL

I say that because I never start at the beginning. In fact, most of the time, I will get inspired and think of a scene to write but it's almost never a beginning scene.

Instead, I always end up coming up with little scenes that are sprinkled throughout the entire length of the story. It could be a certain kind of hug or a fight between certain people or one particular conversation or something simple like that. I will then take those little puzzle pieces and splatter them all over my canvas called Google Docs. Then I go through and I reorganize each scene based on where I think they would fit during the story's progression.

Therefore, I ended up with a canvas that had various colors splashed on it.

Since the beginning, I always knew that I wanted to start with that first chapter where Macaque gets food from "Pigsy’s". That was my absolute starting point no matter what.

So, I wrote that and then I went through my colorful canvas of ideas and I split it into sections. Each section was for a specific chapter. Now, after I wrote that first chapter, I developed a process where I have the current chapter I'm working and then a more or less concrete sketch of the next 2-3 chapters to come.

I don't write more than that right away. I have ideas for chapters beyond that but nothing concrete. That's because a fanfic is constantly developing. There is no way to make concrete plans. What you plan for chapter 10 might be completely changed because of something that you thought of for chapter 6. Or you could end up writing more than intended for one chapter and have to split up certain chapters (*cough cough* the shopping trip *cough cough*). Either way, I've learned that it's better to be flexible with what you plan to post when it comes to fanfic.

That's kind of how I started and that's how I've been making Second Chances so far.

In any case, I feel like I'm rambling at this point 😅 I could talk about writing techniques and strategies for days but!

My main advice is: you do you.

When it comes to writing, there is no correct way to do it. It's kind of like art in that way. You can add as many scenes or as many wild colors as you want or you could be a completely black and white artist or someone who only writes poetry.

Either way, the key to anything creative is to just do it. It doesn't have to be good. It doesn't have to be perfect. I can't count how many times I've written something and then came back to it and gone "that's absolute shit what the fuck was I thinking". On the flip side, I've also had times when I write something and toss it to the side and I come back and I'm like "Who the fuck wrote this cause I know it wasn't me man that shits too good" 😆

So just write what you want to write and make it as simple or as complicated as you want it to be. The best thing I ever did was get into the habit of writing just to write. Whether it was a memoir or a poem or a short scene in a story I'm doing, I just write. Freeball it.

Thank you! I wish you well on your adventures!

[fandomwe1rd0]

If I had a nickel for everytime I wrote a story about Rick comforting Morty after a nighmare, I'd have two nickels, which isn't a lot but it's weird that it happened twice right?

Stories under the cut if you're curious, if you do end up reading them, put which one you prefer in the comments or tags

Rick finally went to his room and fell on his bed; he fell asleep and a few hours later he heard a knock. He groaned, who could it be at this hour? It was midnight. He opened the door and saw Morty covered in sweat with eye bags, his eyes were bloodshot like he had just been crying, and Morty was clutching a pillow to his chest "H-hey Rick..." Morty managed to get out, Rick put his hands on Morty's shoulders and got down to his level "Jesus Christ Morty! What the hell happ*burp*ened?" Morty squeaked "I had a n-nightmare..." One part of Rick's unibrow was raised "A nightmare? You just had a fucking nightmare? Seriously are you that much of a pussy?" Morty's voice cracked "Can I please just crash with you tonight...?" Rick groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose "Morty, you're fucking 14. You're too old to be doing this shit. You can't go to your parents? They are the ones that are sup*burp*posed to deal with this shit." Morty said "Well...I would but Space Beth came over so..." Rick sighed "Fine...but you're sleeping on the floor." Morty sighed "I-if you're going to be an asshole about it-" Rick shrugged "Just put your pillow on the floor before I change my mind." Morty nodded and placed his pillow on the floor, "Fucking pussy..." Rick grumbled. Morty fell asleep quickly, Rick glanced over and sighed, picking up Morty, hoisting him over his shoulder, careful not to wake him, he put Morty on the bed, tucking him in. He got a chair, took a swig of his flask, and made sure Morty didn't have any nightmares. When morning came Rick injected serum into himself to make him have the effects of a full night's sleep, he quickly changed his clothes and woke Morty up "Morty! Wake up! It's time for school!" Morty groaned "Rick you're probably just going to drag me out of school anyway, so what's the point?" Rick's unibrow furrowed "The point is you have to at least get on the bus or your parents will bit*burp*ch at me. Now get ready!" Rick threw a yellow shirt and blue pants at Morty and walked out.

2. Rick groaned as he flipped through the channels, how could they have literally every channel in the universe, and still have nothing interesting to watch? The dim light cast on his face as he sighed, all of a sudden he heard a noise and quickly whipped his head. It was Morty, he was trying to get a cup but dropped some. Rick got up "You're up late Morty. It's a school night, you know your parents would blame me if you stayed up all night, why the fu*burp*ck are you up?" Morty gulped, he was covered in sweat. "I-I was getting a drink, I-I'm sorry if I woke you..." Rick tilted his head "You ok Morty?" Morty nodded "I...I had a nightmare..." Rick sighed "Seriously? A nightmare? You're 14." Morty looked down and then his eyebrows furrowed "Y-you know what I'm not taking this! Y-y-y-you're a cold unfeeling asshole, Rick!" Morty stormed off in his room. Rick mumbled something about Morty being a pussy and went back to the couch. After a while Morty awkwardly stood in front of it, his eyes were bloodshot like he had just been trying, he definitely had another nightmare, after a while, Morty asked "C-can I...?" Rick shrugged and said "Whatever." Morty sat next to Rick and after a few seconds of channel hopping, Rick spared Morty a glance and extended his arm out, Morty put his head on Rick's shoulder, and Rick put his arm around Morty, using his other arm to take a sip of his flask. Eventually, Rick just went to a random channel and decided to watch that. He looked over to Morty and saw that he was already asleep. Rick turned off the tv, and fell asleep too.