#and i tried to converse and organise things with her and this other person

[nooradeservedbetter]

x

[flowerandblood]

The Lost Haven (4/16)

[ modern mafia • Aemond x niece • female ]

[ warnings: uprotected sex, drunk sex (with consent), incest obviously, smut, fingering, the angst, suicidal thoughts, description of cruel physical violence, bad, bad things ]

[ description: The vacation from eight years ago still haunts his memories and doesn't let him forget what happened between him and his niece, the daughter of his sister and Harwin Strong. Their paths separate and he immerses himself in his father's mafia world until the day she calls him for the first time since those events. Sexual tension, dark, dangerous, withdrawn, thirsty Aemond. ]

Author’s note: As promised, this is another, this time official modern version of The Fall from the Heavens. In this version, Daemon is not related to the family, but is simply Rhaenyra's husband and the leader of the second gang, Alys and Larys are also not related to each other, but Larys is Harwin's brother. I will partly refer to the original series, hiding some easter eggs, and some will be a completely new, fresh plot. As in every universe, only Aemond calls her Rhaenys and this is not her real name (she is unnamed character and the others also do not know that he calls her that). There will be a lot more brutality and angst in this version, so watch out. You can read this as a standalone story. Song used in this chapter: Every Breath You Take by The Police

Series & Characters Moodboard Aemond & Rhaenys Moodboard

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

Next chapters: Masterlist

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Over the next few days, Daemon tried to get out of her what had happened and who had put the rape pill into her drink. To his fury, she lied that some guy she didn't know had done it, afraid of what would happen if her stepfather declared war on Larys Strong.

She figured this man wanted just that.

Chaos that he would be able to cash in on, using what was happening to destroy them.

"I do not comprehend you. From now on, I or your mother will be dropping you off and bringing you back from your classes at the University. No meeting friends or going out until you come to your senses." He communicated to her coldly and she replied nothing, not having the strength to stand up to him.

It wouldn't do any good anyway.

Although she should have been worried and terrified, she felt a strange kind of excitement and tension because her uncle, whom she hadn't seen for eight years, had really taken her out of there.

He had really helped her.

She closed her eyes, remembering the touch of his warm, broad hand on hers and his voice, so different from his childish one, deep and low.

Her heart beat harder at that memory, a pleasant, familiar warmth rippling through her lower abdomen.

She felt she had to write him something and after hours of thought she simply wrote the usual thank you. She couldn't stop the feeling of disappointment that spread through her body when he didn't write her back, even though she checked her phone once in a while.

For some reason, she had naively believed that something would now change between them, that she would regain contact with him, that his person would return to her life making her able to finally close this difficult chapter of her past.

However, he remained silent, exactly as he had done for eight years.

She thought it would stay that way until it turned out that her grandfather was organising his sixtieth birthday party with pomp and her whole family was to attend.

"No." She heard Daemon's voice standing in the corridor, overhearing in silence their conversation which he was having with her mother in his office. "There's no way I'm shaking that whore's hand."

"Daemon. My father is dying. You can only show up for a little while and then lock yourself in a hotel room. None of us like it, but I don't want to say no to a man who may not be among the living tomorrow."

Although no one seemed to be happy about it, they were all going to travel there and with each day approaching the event, she was panicking more and more.

She was going to see him for the first time in eight years.

He had no Facebook, Instagram or any other social media accounts: she had no idea what kind of person he was now, what he looked like.

She was afraid that seeing him would make her feel disappointed, that something inside her would finally snap, that the thought that all was lost would make her fall into a state she would never get out of again.

In addition, no one but her knew about what Larys Strong had told her.

Otto Hightower had ordered the murder of your father.

How was she supposed to look that man in the eye?

How was she supposed to look her uncle in the eye knowing he worked for him?

Driving there in their big, black Mercedes she felt like she was about to throw up, her heart pounding like crazy, making her head spin.

"Are you all right? You're pale. I don't want to go there either." Said Jace, glancing at her over his shoulder from the front passenger seat.

Daemon, who had been driving while her mother, following behind them drove the other car, looked at her in the reflection of his mirror, throwing her a piercing, menacing look.

He knew she was hiding something, he could feel it, and the tension between them grew more and more.

When they arrived, they were all searched: no guns were allowed inside.

This was to give the guests some sort of sense of security.

As they walked into the great hall, she was overwhelmed on the one hand by how many people were there, but on the other she was glad to disappear into the crowd. She felt her heart stop for a moment when she spotted Aegon talking to his mother – his blonde hair was pulled back, his jacket carelessly thrown over his shirt, sunglasses on his head.

She spotted Viserys sitting next to him, she spotted Helaena, she even spotted Otto measuring her with a focused gaze, but she didn't see him anywhere.

She felt a wave of disappointment at the thought that he would not come.

As they sat in their seats, searching for their name cards, she felt she was on the verge of crying.

He won't come because of her.

He would never forgive her.

They were served starters and drink, the loud music and the conversations of the people around her made her feel like she was at a wedding, only the guests were individuals she wanted nothing to do with.

She saw how tense Daemon was, looking around the room impatiently, throwing Otto Higtower a warning glance once in a while.

She saw out of the corner of her eye that someone had entered the room and froze, recognising him instantly – he was looking at her, his healthy eye wide open, his nostrils quivering with each of his deep, anxious breaths.

She was taken aback by how tall he was, how drawn and sharply defined his jaw and nose were, his pale, long scar running from his eyebrow arch to his cheek.

He was dressed all in black, in a leather jacket and turtleneck tucked into belted trousers, his short hair, although visibly styled in a hurry, looked elegant.

She wanted to get up, to approach him, to thank him for everything he had done, but as she rose from her seat he immediately turned his head away, something akin to disgust flashed across his face, from which she felt a squeeze in her gut.

She watched, feeling like an idiot as he took his seat next to Aegon and turned tense, thinking that she needed to get out of this place as soon as possible.

She walked out into the garden and headed towards the pier, wanting to be alone – she felt like her heart was about to leap out of her chest, burning tears squeezed under her eyelids, wanting to run down her face.

He couldn't even look at her.

He just pretended not to see her.

She couldn't say why it hurt her so much, why she couldn't let him go when he wanted it so badly: she felt there were years of unsaid words between them, wrongs that had never been made up for.

There had been no apology or explanation from anyone's lips, nothing to help her get back on the right track.

She sat on the wooden platform, staring dully into the black surface of the water, thinking about how it looked in the starlight as if it were some disgusting, dark, dangerous thick mass.

She had a feeling that if she jumped into it she would be all sticky.

She shuddered as she heard someone's footsteps, convinced for some reason that it was Daemon who had come out after her, unable to bear sitting with all these people alone. As she turned over her shoulder she froze, noticing him and stood up quickly, terrified by his gaze, piercing and cold, his eye wide open.

Her heart pounded like mad, her breath heavy in her chest as she watched him pull a packet of cigarettes and a lighter from his jacket pocket, his gaze fixed on her face.

"− what were you doing there? −" He asked finally.

She shuddered to hear that his voice was exactly like the one in her dream: cold, deep and low. She swallowed hard, overwhelmed by how close he stood to her, that he had come to her, that he smelled of some intense, masculine perfume.

"− what do you mean? −" She choked out with difficulty, unable to take her eyes off his face.

He took his time answering − he leaned with the cigarette between his full lips over the flame, its tip lit red and hissed as he took a drag.

"− what were you doing in that club −" He hummed. "− looking for a new experiences? −"

Something in the way he said it, mocking and amused, made her feel discomfort and pain in her chest. She furrowed her eyebrows, unsure of what she should answer to such a brazenly asked question, surprised by his directness.

His lips tightened in displeasure, something in his gaze changed – she had the impression that his iris had turned completely black as he puffed out smoke with his mouth, the smell of tobacco filling her lungs.

"− I don't like to ask twice −" He said coolly, making an unpleasant shiver pass along her back. She swallowed loudly feeling that her whole body tensed, ready to run away.

There was something about him that she feared, as if he wasn't fully human.

You don't even know what monsters lurk in the shadows.

"− I wanted to find out how my father died −" She said finally, wanting to see how he would react to her words.

To her surprise, he burst out laughing, however, it was a downright chilling sound that had nothing to do with genuine amusement. He tapped his finger on his cigarette, causing ash to fly to the ground.

"− and what did you find out? −"

She looked at him with big eyes feeling her heart in her throat, wondering if she should tell him, if she should confront him.

Will he kill her for what she says?

Will he hurt her family?

Despite the questions in her head, it seemed to her that her words had left her mouth without participation of her will.

"− that your grandfather killed him −"

He stared at her for a moment, surprised, his hand frozen in mid-motion to his mouth as he laughed again – this time it sounded like a low chuckle.

"− who told you that? − Larys Strong? − was he the one who dragged you there? −" He sneered making her feel a cold sweat run down her back.

How did he know?

Seeing the look on her face he grinned in a way from which she felt a shiver sweep through her − her breath caught in her throat as he took a few steps towards her, towering over her with an expression on his face from which she could read nothing, taking a drag on the remnants of his cigarette.

"− it was Larys who reported him − after the death of his father and brother, all the fortune fell to him − my grandfather just passively looked on −"

She felt as if he had stabbed her in the heart with his words − the real pain in her chest made her open her mouth wide, her eyes filled with tears of horror.

Larys had used her like a silly little girl.

He had planned everything.

"− did you know about this? −" She muttered, for some reason wanting to believe he had nothing to do with it.

The smile disappeared from his face, as if her question had frustrated him.

"− everyone knew −" He replied. "− he passed sentence on himself when he started talking with the police − his days were numbered anyway −"

His answer made her simply move ahead, bursting into a sudden, hysterical sob, as if everything she had held inside her for the past days, months, years, had poured out of her like a dark, viscous, thick wave that could not be stopped.

Everyone knew.

She sighed and squealed when she felt his wide hand clamp down aggressively on her arm like steel tongs, turning her violently back towards him, causing her pain. She tried to push him away, panting and whimpering, something about his movements, his brutality, the ache he was causing her gave her pleasure.

Some part of her felt she deserved it.

Some part of her wanted him to kill her, to strangle her with his own hands.

She sobbed when his hand tightened on her hot cheeks, wet and red from the tears that flowed down her face, forcing her to look at him − his wide-open eye seemed completely black to her, his lips parted in a heavy, drawn-out breath swollen with excitement and rage.

He was so obscenely close, watching her as if she were some pretty, interesting, expensive object, the smell of his perfume, his sweat and his cigarettes made her dizzy, everything around them seemed blurry to her.

"− don't you miss your favourite uncle anymore? − hm? −" He breathed out at last, his words on the verge of a hiss, his face so close that the tips of their noses rubbed against each other once in a while.

There was a kind of desperation and helplessness in what he was doing, in his words, in his gaze fixed lustfully on her lips, as if he wanted to bite her.

The person in front of her had killed the boy she loved and she knew it perfectly well.

"− I don't recognise you − God, I don't recognise you −" She mumbled at last, feeling the warm tears of grief run down her cheeks.

She closed her eyes, thinking that he could do whatever he wanted to her − strangle her or throw her in the water – she would let him do anything as long as she finally stopped feeling anything.

She squealed in pain as his fingers dug into her tender skin as hard as if he wanted to break her jaw − he took a loud breath through his mouth and shuddered as if something in her words had broken him.

"− good − because I don't fucking recognise myself either −" He hissed out in a trembling, dispassionate voice full of pain from which she felt hot in her heart.

A quiet sigh escaped her lips as his forehead pressed against hers, accepting at last that his brutality stemmed from a need for closeness, a need to take by force what he was sure she would never give him of her own free will.

Something in his words and in his gesture of despair made her hands, clenched until now on his jacket, rise higher, to his neck and to his face, running slowly over his jawline. He sighed and shuddered, feeling it, closing his eyes for a moment, the grip of his fingers on her cheeks easing.

She felt her nipples harden under the material of her dress, felt the space between her thighs swell and pulsate at the thought of what she wanted to do.

The moan that involuntarily escaped his throat when her fleshy, moist lips ran over his sounded sweet and innocent, the lick of his tongue that was his response made them cling to each other in a violent, loud, sticky kiss.

It had nothing to do with a gentle caress because it seemed to her that they were simply trying to devour each other − their hands clamped down on each other's bodies as if they wanted to merge into one, their slick tongues meeting again and again between their teeth, licking and teasing each other with loud clicks of their saliva, stripping this act of any sense of innocence.

They knew it was wrong and that's why they wanted it so badly, so when his fingers tightened on her plump buttocks, pressing her against the throbbing bulge in his trousers, she felt her sticky wetness run down her thigh, her hands clenched on his hair, letting him know he could take what he wanted.

"− it's your fault − it's your fault −" He panted into her mouth between deep, passionate, messy, hot kisses, his lips beneath hers swollen and wonderfully wet – he tasted of mint chewing gum and cigarettes, something forbidden, strange, terrifying.

He was a monster, and she wanted him to devour her.

There was no longer a lamp to light for her.

"− mghm −" She mumbled as she felt his hips begin to roll back and forth, rubbing deliberately against her lower abdomen, his tongue thrusting again and again deep into her throat, telling her that he could fuck her, he could destroy her, he could take everything from her, and she felt a wonderful heat in her lower abdomen at the thought.

She wanted him to do this to her.

She wanted to know what it would be like to feel him there, deep inside her.

What it was like to have someone devour you with every thrust of his hips, every loud sigh of desire that was wrong in itself, what it was like to experience fulfilment on the brink of revelation.

"− are you sure you saw her here? −" She heard Daemon's voice and froze, pulling away from him instantly.

They looked at each other with big eyes, pale and terrified, panting hard and quivering as if they didn't recognise each other.

Oh God, oh God, oh my fucking God!

"− I'm here − I'm coming −" She called out in a trembling voice and ran towards them, towards the light, seeing the silhouettes of her step-father and her brother standing just inside the entrance where two evening lamps were lit.

Back to the light, back to the light, back to the light.

Oh God, oh God, oh God.

Daemon furrowed his brow as he looked at her, his gaze fleeing to the side, far away to the silhouette of her uncle standing in the distance.

"Did he do something to you?" He asked coldly.

"N-no. No, I just thanked him for what he did for me. Let's go inside." She lied, stepping back into the hall, struck immediately by the loud music, Every Breath You Take was playing all around her, dancing pairs of businessmen, gangsters and drug dealers made her feel like she was about to vomit.

Oh, can't you see You belong to me? How my poor heart aches With every step you take?

"Mum, excuse me, will you show me what room I'm going to sleep in? I feel bad." She muttered with difficulty feeling like she was suffocating, her heart pounding like mad.

His tongue deep in her throat, his heavy breath smelling of cigarettes and mint, his swollen lips pressed against hers as if he had been dreaming of this moment for years.

This is your fault.

Rhaenyra stroked her shoulder, worried, and rose from her seat.

"Are you sure? There will be birthday cake and wishing soon." She said softly, but she shook her head, the words of the song echoing around her had her on the verge of crying.

Since you've gone, I've been lost without a trace I dream at night, I can only see your face I look around, but it's you I can't replace I feel so cold, and I long for your embrace I keep crying, baby, baby please

"I can't make it." She whispered.

She and her mother went to get her backpack with her things from their car, and then they walked to the hotel part of the manor − the lady at the reception gave them the right key, and her mother escorted her to her room wanting to make sure she could manage.

"Do you need anything? Shall I give you some pills for a stomach ache?" She asked, but she shook her head quickly, opening the door with her card.

"No, thank you. And I'm sorry. Have a good night."

"Don't apologise, my love. Sleep well."

As she closed the door behind her she turned on the light and saw that her room was tiny: it contained a small toilet, and beyond that a single bed, a desk with one chair and a wardrobe for clothes.

She pulled off her dress, washed her face and teeth, then changed into her pyjamas, which were really just an oversized white T-shirt and panties. The night was warm, so she turned off the light and opened the window, lying down in bed.

She tried not to think about what had happened, about how wonderfully he had kissed, about how she had never felt with any boy she had dated what she had felt with him, after years of separation.

She thought she was broken, that she was attracted to something that would help her destroy herself.

Even though her whole body screamed for her to relieve herself with her hand, to sink her own fingers into her warm folds, leaking with desire, she decided that she would not do it, that she would keep the remnants of her dignity before herself.

She fell asleep only hours later from exhaustion, dreaming of him, of him coming to her, of him taking the pillow in his hands, only to press it to her face.

She shuddered, terrified, seeing only darkness around her, hearing some noise. Only after a moment did she realise that someone was knocking on her door.

"− Rhaenys − fuck −" She heard his unclear mumble indicating that he was barely conscious and drunk. Her shoulders lifted in some subconscious defensive gesture, her lips parted in a terrified, accelerated breath.

Oh no, oh, God, no, no, no, no.

She heard a rustling and a thump, as if someone had fallen over, her hands clenched into a fist on the fabric of her duvet.

"− I want to go to sleep −" He muttered so that she barely heard him. She covered her mouth with her hand, feeling that his words, his request, what he subconsciously wanted was tearing at her heart.

He wanted to return to that moment, to fall asleep beside her as he had then.

It frightened her how well she understood him.

She stood up on trembling legs, feeling that they were as soft as cotton wool, and walked quietly to the door, pressing the handle slowly. She looked uncertainly out into the corridor, afraid of what she would see – his silhouette sat on the floor leaning against the wall, his head bowed, a nearly empty bottle of whisky in his hand.

He was not coping.

"Come." She whispered.

He shuddered and lifted his gaze to her, his stare soft and dishevelled. He muttered something under his breath, trying to get up, but fell over, collapsing to his knees, his bottle falling out of his hand, spilling its contents on the floor.

"− fuck −" He growled, wanting to reach for it and pick it up.

"− no − leave it − come inside −" She mumbled quietly, afraid someone would hear or see them.

His body was heavy and numb, making her help him up with great difficulty − he had to grab onto the frame of her door and lean against the wall to keep from falling over, and after a moment he slumped down on her bed, sighing heavily.

She closed the door behind him, swallowing loudly, and walked slowly towards him. He only flinched when she untied his shoes and pulled them off his feet, but furrowed his brow, displeased when she tried to pull his leather jacket off him.

"− you'll be too hot −" She muttered, slipping it off his shoulders but unable to pull it from behind his back, which was crushing the material. She squealed, surprised, placing her hands on his chest for balance as he drew her down with a sudden, sharp movement, causing her to fall against his body.

"− come here − God, you smell so good −" He exhaled making her moist insides pulsate greedily around nothing, a pleasant, tickling sensation filled her lower abdomen as his fingers ran through her hair in a gesture she might call affectionate.

He forced her to bend over so that her body clung to his − his thighs parted so that she could feel what was happening to him, how hard he was because of her proximity, while his lips clung to hers with a loud, messy click.

He smelled of alcohol, the taste of whisky melting on her tongue with each of his wet, hot, hungry licks − his hands slid from her neck down her back to her buttocks, slipping under her panties, his fingers digging into the soft texture of her skin.

"− tell me to leave −" He gasped out. "− tell me to stop −"

She moaned softly into his moist lips, knowing that she should do it.

But she didn't.

She felt his erection pulsate hard beneath her as she let the motions of his hands guide her body, rubbing against the bulge between his thighs, her weeping cunt all hot and swollen with desire, leaking with longing.

How could she let him do this?

How could it be so pleasurable?

She got the answer to her questions when his fingers slid deeper between her legs − she squirmed in his mouth, simultaneously terrified and delighted when the tips of his fingers found her hot, throbbing slit, slowly teasing her opening.

"− shhh − easy now −" He whispered in such a way that she felt a tickling shudder run through her lips, nipples and insides making her wetness begin to drip onto his hand, the circular motions of his fingers pressing wonderfully into her sticky folds began to be accompanied by the quiet clicks of her moisture.

She moaned into his mouth like a helpless little child − he hushed her as if he wanted to soothe and calm her, one hand placing on her head, combing his fingers through her hair, the other teasing her puffy little bud, once in a while running over her entrance, making wonderful waves of heat flow again and again through their bodies.

Their kisses became deep and lazy as they concentrated on the movements of their hips, rocking them so that they brushed against each other.

She shuddered and squirmed, shocked when she felt the tip of his middle finger sink between her fleshy walls, soaking wet with desire, sliding in and out of her with the sticky sound of her moisture, making her hips roll back and forth, coming out to meet him.

"− uncle − we can't − we can't, we can't, we can't −" She mumbled out, feeling his tongue thrust deep between her mouth with his sigh of pleasure, repeating the movements of his finger between her lips, her hands roaming over his cheeks and hair, stroking him tenderly as if she loved him.

As if she loved him.

"− we can − we will − we need to prepare you properly − shhh −" He gasped softly, making her body arch in a spasm of pleasure, a helpless, girlish moan ripped from her throat as his finger sank fully into the hot, soft structure of her throbbing cunt.

"− please − it's wrong − God, it's so wrong −" She whimpered, feeling tears of terror begin to run down her cheeks, her hands clenched on the material of his black turtleneck, her hips falling and rising on his finger, seeking fulfilment.

They both knew it wasn't enough.

"− shhh − I know, baby − I will take care of you − I got you −" He whispered as his free hand from her head slid down between their bodies, undoing his belt and the button of his trousers − she cried out loudly as she felt him slide them down along with his boxers, his fingers slick with her wetness pushing the material of her panties aside, directing her swollen, pulsing slit at the head of his cock.

"− please, Aemond, please −" She mewled, trying to pull away at the same time and spreading her legs wider, involuntarily allowing him to open her wide on his thick, long erection.

"− let me − I need you −" He exhaled, tilting his head back only to look again a moment later at their bodies, at what he was doing to her, at the way he was forcing himself deep into his niece's body.

The experience was wonderfully painful and pleasurable, as if something that had remained empty had at last been filled, as if she was at last whole, as if his body had always been part of hers.

Her walls offered him only apparent resistance, clenching against him in delight, his quiet, helpless moans were evidence of how good it felt.

She let him sink into her fully, sitting up on top of him, placing her hands on his chest, surrendering − she tilted her head back as his hips with deep, sure thrusts began to slam his cock into her body, his fingers clenched on her soft buttocks.

"− I − ah − mghmmm − G-God −" She mumbled out, bursting into sobs, parting her lips wide, leaning lower, letting him rub her with each stab where she needed it − her silky walls began to throb around his erection, soaking him wet, their breaths heavy and hitched, full of helplessness and vulnerability.

She felt strangely full, with each movement of his hips deep inside her body realising what they were doing and how sickeningly pleasurable it was.

"− thaaat's it − that's my girl − fuck, so good −" He exhaled, drifting off completely into the world of his fantasies, with steady, deep pushes building their way to fulfilment.

She thought in disbelief, panting heavily, that the experience of feeling him inside her was something almost spiritual, a revelation of sorts, her body rocking to the rhythm of his thrusts without involving her will.

What they were doing seemed both animalistic and natural to her, as if it was obvious that it had to end this way.

"− just a little more − please, just a little more − let me cum inside, baby −" He mumbled softly, his hands spreading her buttocks apart, allowing him to sink deeper into her fleshy core − she leaned over him and kissed him, their tongues colliding, licking each other in the most ungodly, perverted, lewd way imaginable.

"− A-Aemond − Aemond-Aemond-Aemond − ah! −" She whined into his mouth as he wove his hand into her hair and sank her face into his neck, feeling her warm moisture run down his thighs − her moans and cries of delight were muffled by his skin as her cunt squeezed and sucked him deep inside her in a stunning, overpowering orgasm that shook her body like a wonderful, hot, tickling wave.

She heard him sigh loudly and tilt his head back, clamping his fingers on her flesh, his body convulsing several times as if he had suffered some kind of attack when his hot seed filled her insides at last.

"− God − oh my fucking God −" He gasped out, panting heavily along with her, their hips moving for a moment more in a subconscious desire to prolong this feeling full of relief and warmth.

"− oh, baby −" He whispered, stroking her head and buttocks as if she were a small child.

For some reason unfathomable to her, she was not indebted to him, stroking his torso, neck and jaw, snuggled into him as she had been then, many years ago, feeling at peace, feeling safe, feeling good.

She felt his hand slide from her ass under his back, slipping his leather jacket out from under them, with which he covered their hips. His hand returned immediately to her soft buttock, as if he liked the feel of her silky skin under his hand, his soft manhood pulsing gently deep inside her.

She didn't mind.

"− sleep − don't worry − I want this baby −" He muttered and she swallowed hard, smiling involuntarily, wondering if he even understood what he was saying to her.

I want this baby.

His drunken alter ego was ready to become a father if it turned out that she became pregnant.

She sighed quietly and closed her eyes, focusing only on his scent, on his heart pounding hard beneath her breasts, on his broad hands embracing her body.

She thought, feeling a strange lightness in her heart, that she hadn't felt this wonderful in eight years.

[warehouse-in-la-cienaga]

Imagining a Fantasy high Junior year where the rest of the students get involved with the BK’s. There are so many times that bad things happen, and the Bad Kids are isolated from the other students so they have no clue.

Like, the last stand. Thinking of Arthur, instead of making clones, makes the last stand a whole school production, with the Students as the audience. The last stand is a ‘once a decade’ kind of test, due to the difficulty, and a perfect example of adventuring, so it’s very exciting. The students can’t interact with the fight, but the BKs have some kind of microphones, and a screen of spells and stats for the audience. The students can’t be hit, but the proctor still can.

The rest of the students seeing how competent the BK’s are in fighting. Kristin and Fig will have no problem getting followers after this. People are filming Fabian’s fights to put music to. No one can see Riz, but that’s kind of the point, and it’s a game to find any trace of him. Adaine is the most organised, respected Wizard example, even in so much chaos. When Gorgug almost solos that purple worm, at least one person faints.

And they’re joking. They’re having regular conversations. Half the time, there’s no forewarning, they’re just changing tactics on a heel turn, and they’re all on the same page. Those questions are out and answered so quickly, there isn’t a chance for the audience to give an answer. Every correct answer is a slam dunk. The stats on Fig’s damage output is insane. There was a exactly one wrong answer and it’s extra credit.

Then Buddy goes down. I think the plan was for the BKs to have no chance of revivify, so as long as none of the students see KLCK, she goes through with it. So long as the BKs are dead, no one can accuse the Rat Grinders without proof. But they don’t go down. Instead, the rest of the student body see Kristin, after a quick internal battle, run for the guy that she’s had public arguments with, try to save him even as the rest of her party finish the fight. They try to save Buddy, and the Students see it. They see there’s no diamonds, and it’s understood that there was never a plan to revivify the BKs. But they didn’t need to be.

The BKs somehow become even more cool. Gorgug’s little ‘sit down’ gets him a cult following. When Buddy shows up, claiming someone came along after to revivify him, the rest of the students show him how the BKs tried to help. The Rat Grinders, with that kind of attention, go even further underground, and the rest of the students are more and more suspicious about their involvement in the BKs almost-death.

[stevieschrodinger]

Part Two

Part One

Eddie sits in his van, and he cries about it. He cries so much the already tangled mess of yarn in his hands becomes nothing but a colourful blur. He knows a lot of this is hormones; his neglected Omega falling further and further into depression.

If he neglects his Omega much more, another heat spent alone might actually kill him. Eddie vaguely recognises he's far enough gone that simply not waking up one day sounds kind of nice.

He bought the most expensive yarn he could afford. He knew it wasn't good enough for a pups blanket, but he just couldn't afford the nicer stuff. Yarn is fucking expensive.

So yeah, he got the cheaper stuff, attracted to the colours as much as anything, even knowing he'd have to double it over to make it thick enough to knit. And that was how the trouble started because doubling it over meant unspooling the whole thing.

And now it's just another thing Eddie has fucked up.

He's not a good Omega, he knows that, he's been told it his entire life; too brash, too loud, too imaginative, not good at cooking and cleaning and organising and all the stuff Omega are supposed to naturally be good at.

Which if he didn't care, then it wouldn't matter, but Eddie wants a pup. Wants one like it's a burning urge inside him. Wants to carry one, wants to make another person who's a part of him. His Omega whines and whines and whines and Eddie wants it. Wants it enough that he tries to be a good Omega; he just always fucks it up.

And that makes it so much worse.

Some of the Omega in senior year are already mated, already walking around with bites proudly displayed on their necks. Fancy Omega with good breeding and nice families who have chosen Alphas for them. Which, sure, Eddie's not sure he'd like to have an Alpha picked for him, but to have a pup of his own? Eddie would put up with a lot.

One girl is already pregnant, everyone congratulating her and celebrating with her; as soon as she started to show Eddie found he couldn't even look at her any more, the envy was eating him alive.

But it'll never be for him.

They're supposed to make pup blankets in Omega class and Eddie can't even afford the fluffy yarn. He's already failed.

And then Eddie nearly shits himself when someone bangs on the driver side window. He's been ugly crying, and he tries to wipe his eyes and snotty nose to see who it is, winding the window down. Steve Harrington; fucking wonderful.

"Hey, man, look, are you, okay?"

"Fine," Eddie answers, clearly not at all fine, one hand smeared in snot and the other wound so tight in the fucked up yarn his fingers are turning white.

Steve sees it, "do you, want a hand with that?"

"I don't think there's any saving it." Eddie says, defeated, but it was unexpectedly decent of Harrington to offer so he tacks on, "thanks."

"I was just here, late, you know, shooting some practice hoops, maybe if we go in the gym we could spread it out, maybe?"

Eddie just stares at him for a minute, because this is the nicest anyone's been to Eddie for ages and it's coming from and Alpha which just makes it that much worse so Eddie just...nods. Finds himself following Harrington into the gym.

They work in silence for a while, and at Steve's suggestion, they do end up cutting the yarn once to make it easier.

"Thankyou."

"No worries man, I knew we could do it, what's it for?"

"Omega studies," Eddie mumbles at the gym floor, "pup blanket"

"Ah, right, that's cool, Why'd you pick it? I like the colours."

And in what universe is Steve Harrington making idle conversation with Eddie Munson, "was all I could afford," Eddie admits, shame faced.

"They make you buy it?" Steve's frowning, "even though it's for a grade?"

Eddie just nods, and then shrugs.

"Oh, well what did your Alpha think?"

Eddie snorts, can't help it, the ridiculousness of it, "I don't have an Alpha," Eddie declares, much more loudly than he'd really ment to.

"Oh. I just figured...I mean you're so pretty. You must get plenty of offers."

Eddie just...stares at Steve. He must have fallen and hit his head, surely. It's the only explanation for what's happening here, Eddie laughs again, "sure, if I want to get on my knees in the bathroom." Which is true, Eddie gets plenty of offers, just not any he'd like to participate in. He's going to loose his virginity to an Alpha who cares for him, in a nest that Alpha built, even if it kills him.

Which it just might, if he goes through another heat alone. He sees the way Wayne looks at him, the worry in his eyes. He knows he's not well, but he's just going to ignore it. There's nothing else to be done.

"Oh," Steve says, he looks uncomfortable but then he ploughs on anyway, "you do smell...well, I...I can tell you're maybe not doing so hot."

Great. Time for Eddie to fucking bail on this. He's hit his limit on Steve Harrington pity for the day.

It's the next day when Eddie finds a paper bag hanging from the windshield of his van. There's five skeins of yarn inside; dark blue, a little sparkly, and the softest thing Eddie's ever felt. He looks around to see who could have done this; across the car park Steve Harrington gives him a shy, two finger wave.

[disaster-theysbian]

Gotta say, I've been out as a lesbian for 3 years and nonbinary for a year and a half. And I've noticed something.

Just because someone *always* gets your name and pronous correct, and angrily calls out anyone who forgets, doesn't necessarily mean they support you.

Conversely, just because someone struggles to remember your name and pronouns, or can't wrap their head around gender neutral/neo pronouns at all, doesn't necessarily mean they DON'T support you.

This is applicable to any situation really not just queer shit. Watch what people do, not just what they say, and you will find your friends. Someone might shower you with compliments and have common interests with you, but what happens when you tell them no? Do they get angry when they are corrected? Do they have kind things to say about other people?

My colleagues wouldn't know a gender-neutral pronoun if one hit them in the face with a dictionary, but they make sure I've had a lunch break and get home safely. They have my back if I have a difficult patient. They defend me against other staff members who like to create drama and bitch about people as if they're still in the school playground. If someone has something to say about me being a big ol' queer, they make it known that discrimination has no place in our unit.

My best friend in the whole entire world forgets my name and pronouns every day. When the organisers of her therapy group changed "men and women" to "people" and "he/she" to "they" in order to be more inclusive, there was outcry. Everything from the "it just doesn't sound right" grammar-policing nonsense to the "f*cking special snowflakes are offended by everything". She came down on them like a ton of bricks. She said if the organisers hadn't told them that it was changing, that they wouldn't have noticed. She told them they obviously haven't loved someone outside of the gender binary and they were missing out. She then told them how she had seen me grow and develop since I came out, and how in awe she was of the person I had become. No, she doesn't understand it at all, but why should that mean that she can't be there for me and appreciate how happy I am to be able to be me? Why should that mean, because you lot don't understand it, that someone with the same issues as the rest of the therapy group feels unsafe and unwelcome and doesn't get their issues resolved? As a result, a few of them changed their minds, INCLUDING HER OWN FATHER, and the rest at least shut the hell up about it.

ON THE FLIP SIDE...

A queer person who used my correct name and pronouns delighted in making me walk on eggshells, inventing reasons to be angry with me, convinced me I was a terrible person and even went as far as to try and turn me against my own therapist. They tried to tell me that my therapist only said I was a good person because she was paid to, and that because they themselves had a psychology degree that they could tell I had all these complexes and needed to work hard to be a good person, and it was unlikely I'd never get there. (I chose to listen to my therapist and stop being friends with this person).

A queer person who used my correct name and pronouns continued to do things that made me uncomfortable when I asked them to stop. Never said in as many words "you're not allowed to hang out with your friends" but conveniently had an emergency every time I had plans, and accused me of being uncaring if I needed my own space. They knew I had difficulty asking for help, but still got angry with me when I asked because I didn't ask "soon enough".

A queer person who used my correct name and pronouns told me they would look after me and they didnt. .

A queer person threatened to misgender me MORE when I corrected them.

I'm just saying, that if you choose to yeet everyone who doesn't get your name and pronouns right... that doesn't necessarily make you safe. We live in a very binary world. As much as we want that to change, it won't if we ignore or shout at the bits we don't like. (Believe me, I've tried).

[allicat0]

hiii

anyways LOVE ur writing !!

i had an angst trope in mind recently abt hunter x fem!reader

basically as he's quite bad at expressing his emotions he tends to scold her and be really mean but not on purpose, thinking she sees it as him being protective, which she doesnt

and then they take a 2 person job from cid where she almost dies during it and he's mad and all and they fight and she says that maybe she should've died earlier, and just before finishing the job she ALMOST actually dies but there's a happy ending

is that's alr🫶

Left In The Dark

ans: oh my goodness, YES! I love this idea so freaking much, I also love love love writing angst and was so happy(but also sad)writing this. Hope you enjoy! I tried my best😭

Summary: Lately things within the Batch had been stressful and Hunter felt the pressure caving in on him. He knew he wasn’t alone, and that his brothers took an equal leadership role as he did. Though his continuous need to protect everyone but himself, still left this heavy weight on his shoulders that he could never seem to shake.

Content: afab, Angst, Self-doubt, Hunter x FemReader, arguing, blame game, harsh language.

A/N: I don't like Hunter when he's sad, it makes me sad. Again sorry for any punctuation, grammar or structural mistakes!!

Lately things within the Batch had been stressful and Hunter felt the pressure caving in on him. He knew he wasn’t alone, knew that his brothers took an equal leadership role as he did. Though his continuous need to protect everyone but himself, left this heavy weight on his shoulders that he could never seem to shake. 

Hunter was sitting alone in the dimly lit room, his thoughts swirling in a chaotic storm of confusion and sadness. He stares blankly at the wall, lost in the echoes of past conversations that ended in hurtful words and shattered trust. The weight of his own emotions feels like an invisible chain, binding him to a cycle he can't seem to break. "What am I doing," he whispers to himself, the words heavy with self-doubt and longing for understanding. He doesn't know why he reacts the way he does, why his attempts at protection often turn into painful misunderstandings. Like a wounded animal, he retreats further into himself, searching for answers that seem to elude him at every turn, a haunting reminder of his struggle to navigate the complexities of his own heart. “She was just trying to help” He mumbled to himself once more. 

You on the other hand were at the front of the Marauder, while Tech and Echo were both doing repairs on the ship. The last mission didn’t go as smoothly as you had hoped, leaving the whole Batch divided. The atmosphere in the batch was heavy with tension, the air thick with unspoken frustration and disappointment. The mission had been carefully planned, every detail scrutinised and rehearsed, yet despite their best efforts, it had unravelled into chaos. Hunter could feel the weight of failure pressing down on him, his shoulders sagging under the burden of expectations. You did your best to help him, to cheer him up, remind him that what happened today wasn’t his fault but, he bursted out and left to be alone. 

Between Hunter and the rest of the crew, there was a volatile mix of frustration, anger, and a lingering sense of betrayal towards fate itself. The silence was deafening, each member grappling with their own thoughts and emotions, unsure of how to bridge the growing divide. It was a moment frozen in time, marked by the bitter taste of defeat and the uncertain path that lay ahead.

You and Hunter had found yourselves locked in a cycle of bickering over seemingly trivial matters, yet the tension between you has been palpable. It's as if every conversation, every interaction, has become a potential minefield where the smallest spark ignites a fiery exchange. Simple things, like navigation or organising the next mission, making your every day with him a battlefield. What starts as a minor disagreement quickly escalates into heated exchanges, with words exchanged like arrows in a skirmish. The weight of these constant conflicts hangs heavy in the air, casting a shadow over what used to be easy camaraderie. Don’t get it confused, the two of you loved each other so deeply and had made it clear you would do anything for eachother, though Hunter had a hard time expressing it leading to your bickering arguments, pulling yourselves away from one another. 

It’s always been evident that Hunter has struggled with expressing emotion, ever since he was a young clone. His demeanour created a significant and unhealthy strain on him and the relationships of the people he holds closest to him. He knew he would sometimes hurt the ones he loves, but he never knew why he did it. There's an ongoing internal conflict within Hunter. On one hand, he genuinely cares about the well-being of the people around him and wants to protect them. However, this desire to protect sometimes manifests in ways that come across as harsh or critical. Despite his intentions, he is often unaware of the unintended impact of his words and actions. He may say things with the intention of offering guidance or preventing harm, but these words can be received as hurtful or dismissive by others. 

You heard footsteps travelling through the Marauder, stopping behind you. “Cid wants to see you in the parlour” It was Echo. You looked behind you and gave him a soft side smile “Thanks for letting me know” You sat up and out of the chair, making your way past Echo, he quickly placed his hand on your shoulder, stopping you in your tracks. “You know he doesn’t mean it” he said to you softly referring to Hunter’s last outburst. “I know” You said softly, moving away from his grip and meeting Cid inside the Parlour. 

When you walk in your met with Cid speaking to Hunter, his arms were crossed over his chest, he didn’t look too happy with whatever Cid was telling him. “We just got back” You heard Hunter say as you were in range of their conversation. “And you’re going right back out- Ah there she is” Cid said as you caught her attention, Hunter looked over to look at who Cid was referring to. The anger left his eyes as he looked at you, filling with shame. “I need the two of you to go out on a quick and easy job for me” Cid said crossing her arms Hunter was about to protest but she quickly cut him off. “I don’t wanna hear your complaints, remember who you’re working for.” 

“ I have a guy waiting for his Cargo I was meant to deliver some time ago. . anddd I may have forgot, so I need you two to go deliver it to him” Cid explained the plan to the two of you “We need a ship, the marauder isn’t in any condition to fly.” You said finally speaking up. “I’ll give you a ship, just don’t screw this up alright, or they’ll have all our heads.” Cid warned. You and Hunter loaded up the ship in silence, neither one of you finding the courage to speak up to one another, now wasn’t the time to speak on behalf of each other's feelings, the two of you had a job to do. 

“Look I” Hunter started to speak but you quickly cut him off “there is no need to apologise right now, we’re on a job. . we can talk after.” You said sternly, clearly upset of the events that took place a few hours earlier. Hunter's eyes fell to his hands resting in his lap, letting out a sigh as you continued to fly the ship. The whole ride there, there were little to no words shared, just silence. 

The hum of the engines was steady as you piloted the ship through the vastness of space. The mission had been proceeding smoothly so far, each step executed with precision and expertise. He sat beside you, monitoring the navigation systems and keeping an eye on the mission objectives.

As the ship cruised through the starry expanse, a sudden blip on the radar caught your attention. Before you could react, Hunter's voice cut through the calm atmosphere. "We've got incoming," he announced, his tone shifting instantly from relaxed to alert.

The ship shuddered as Tie Fighters swooped in, their lasers blazing through space. Your reflexes kicked in, manoeuvring the ship expertly to evade the onslaught of enemy fire. Hunter frantically worked the defensive systems, trying to buy precious seconds as he returned fire.

The intense battle raged on, the ship jolting with each hit it took. Despite the chaos, you remained as focused as you could, your piloting skills keeping the ship one step ahead of destruction. However, luck was not on your side as a critical hit struck the ship's engines, sending it spiralling out of control.

The alarms started to blare, lights flickered, and the once smooth mission turned into a desperate struggle for survival. “Hold on, we’re going down” You said you were doing your best to control the plane so the landing wasn’t too harsh but there was no preventing the outcome. With a final impact, the ship crash-landed on a nearby planet, Jakku, the ground shaking violently upon impact.

As the dust settled and the ship's systems powered down, you and Hunter coughed from the smoke, making your way out of the ship. The ship was badly damaged, you and him weren't gonna hear the end of it from Cid either. Luckily the two of you weren’t badly banged up, “why did they even attack us anyway-” Hunter groaned while leaving the ship. “There was no warning, no coms to surrender, or to even identify who we were.” He continued to ask open ended questions. 

As the initial shock of the crash landing wore off, Hunter's frustration began to simmer beneath the surface. He surveyed the wreckage of the ship, his expression tight with concern and annoyance. "Damn it," he muttered, running a hand through his dishevelled hair.

You approached him cautiously, knowing that Hunter's emotions were running high. "We'll figure this out," you said, trying to reassure him. Hunter turned to you, his eyes flashing with a mixture of anger and worry. "This shouldn't have happened. I told you to keep an eye on the sensors!  We could have avoided those Tie Fighters if we had seen them coming sooner," he accused, his voice edged with frustration.

You felt a pang of guilt at his words, knowing that he was right. You had been focused on monitoring other systems and had missed the early warning signs of the impending attack. "You can’t blame this all on me! They came out of nowhere Hunter!," you protested against him, but felt the weight of his disappointment. Hunter's expression softened slightly, pinching the bridge of his nose "Cid had to pick you to come with me, of all people," he huffed out. “Excuse me?” you said as your eyebrows furrowed together. “Last time I checked, I was the one holding up our position for most of that, without my piloting abilities we could have had a much worse fate" 

“Well look where you got us!” Hunter raised his voice back at you pointing towards the ship.

“The ship is destroyed, we have no way of transportation, and” Hunter inhaled sharply, taking a deep breath. “Look I” 

You cut him off “No, I perfectly understand what you mean” You snapped back at him. “Maybe you’re right, maybe it would have been better if Cid sent someone else with you, if I didn’t come at all, since everything I do lately seems to be pissing you off!” You said sternly. “But I can tell you now, that there was no way to avoid that!” You pointed towards the destroyed ship.

“I got us to Jakku, now let's finish this cargo drop off so we can find a way to get back home” You walked away from Hunter grabbing the Cargo box from what remains of the ship, dragging it out. It was heavy and gonna be a pain in the ass to haul through the sand in the blistering heat. Hunter came beside you lifting the other end of the cargo and the two of you were off. 

The relentless sun beat down on Jakku's barren landscape, turning the air into a sweltering oven. You trudged through the soft sand, each step sinking deeper into the heat-absorbing grains. Sweat trickled down your forehead, stinging your eyes as you hauled the heavy cargo box behind you.

The box, filled with god knows what but it seemed to grow heavier with every step. Hunter walked beside you, his face etched with frustration and exhaustion mirroring your own. The two of you had been travelling for what felt like endless hours, the heat and monotony of the journey wearing down your patience. "What's taking so long?" Hunter's gruff voice cut through the hot air, his tone tinged with annoyance. "We should have been there by now."

You gritted your teeth, the heat amplifying the tension between you. "It's not like I'm enjoying dragging this thing through a desert," you retorted, your own irritation bubbling to the surface. Hunter scoffed, wiping the sweat from his brow. "Could've fooled me. At this rate, we'll be lucky if we make it before nightfall."

The bickering continued as you pushed forward, the weight of the cargo box a constant reminder of the challenges you faced. As the sun dipped lower on the horizon, casting long shadows across the sand, continuing your travel through the sand. The two of you finally reached your destination, coming to a small area filled with people. The relief of unburdening yourself from the cargo box was near, the coolness of the evening a welcome reprieve from the blistering heat of the day.

As the last rays of sunlight faded over Jakku's horizon, you and Hunter finally met the Client you were asked to deliver the cargo to. He stood tall and imposing, his features hardened by a life lived on the edge of the law. You approached him cautiously, the weight of the cargo box now off your shoulders but the weight of the situation heavy on your mind. "We've got your delivery," you announced, gesturing towards the cargo box at your feet.

The Client’s eyes narrowed as he inspected the box, his expression unreadable. "Took you long enough," he grumbled, a hint of impatience in his voice. "We hit some unexpected obstacles," Hunter explained, stepping forward to diffuse the tension. "But the goods are here, just like we promised."

The Client’s gaze shifted from Hunter to you, his scrutiny making you uneasy. "And is it all here?" he demanded, his tone sceptical. You exchanged a quick glance with Hunter before nodding. "It's all there," you confirmed, hoping that the client wouldn't notice the slight hesitation in your voice.

He seemed satisfied for a moment, but then his eyes narrowed again. "This is only half of what I asked for," he accused, his voice rising in anger.

You and Hunter exchanged a worried look, realising that this was not going to end well. "We were told this was the entire shipment," you tried to explain, your words falling on deaf ears. A tense standoff had begun, the air crackling with tension. Finally, the client seemed to relent, though his expression remained distrustful. "Well it’s not what I asked for," the client said, frustrated, looking over at you. He pulled out his gun from the holster pointing it at the both of you. 

“Easy, now” Hunter said, holding his hands up in defence. “There's no need to -” The client cuts him off “Oh there is every need, I want what I was promised” He yelled his blaster still pointed towards you. You felt as you were quickly pulled into the client's arms pressing your back against him, blaster to your head, Hunter pulling him out in defence against the client. 

The cold metal of the gun pressed against my temple sent a shiver down my spine, as I stood there, held hostage by a desperate individual. Hunter, always quick on his feet, assessed the situation with a calm demeanour, his eyes flicking between me and the client.

"Let her go," Hunter said evenly, his voice carrying a hint of authority that demanded attention.

The client's grip tightened on the gun, his eyes wild with fear and desperation. "Ahh I see, a little soft spot you have for her I see. .be a shame if anything. . happened. To her."

Hunter took a step forward, his hands raised in a non-threatening gesture. "Don’t you touc-” He took a deep breath “look We can work this out. There's no need for anyone to get hurt."

But the man's resolve was unyielding. He kept the gun trained on your temple, his finger twitching on the trigger. Your heart was pounding out of your chest, never in a moment as serious as this one. Your hand slowly moved to the button on your buckle, sending an alerting beep to the marauder grabbing the attention of Echo, allowing them to know they were in trouble. 

“They’re alerting us from Jakku, the plan must not have gone as expected.” Echo said relaying the message to Tech “not surprised.” Tech countered.  

“Is the Marauder ready to fly?” Omega asked Echo and Tech a worried look spread across her face. “Well see” Echo said as Tech fired up the engines getting ready to take off, they were on their way. 

The three of you were in a standoff, Hunter was unsure what to do in this situation he was crossed, your eyes were laced in fear and there was nothing Hunter could do. You had to think fast and thank you did, your eyes locking with Hunter's mouth the words “shoot” to him. Your foot stomped down onto the Client’s, he yelled out in pain letting you go, moving out of his grip Hunter shot him in the shoulder, yelling out in pain. It was just enough time to allow you to get to his side. “Come on we need to go” Hunter said sternly, as you were about to leave you suddenly felt a piercing pain threw your upper torso right by your ribcage falling to your knees, yelling out in pain. You had been shot. “Ah shit” you cried out doing your best to stand on your feet. Hunter turned to the Client and blasted him right through the chest.

Hunter wrapped your arm around his shoulder giving you support, raising you up, and getting the two of you out of there.”we got to go before things get worse.” Your breathing was heavy, as you did your best to keep yourself collected, but you could feel yourself losing your strength by the second.

Groans would escape your lips, as you would lose the strength in your legs. “Come on, we're so close.” Hunter did his best to keep you focused and awake, but your eyes began to blur. 

You struck in and out of consciousness “No no, come on stay awake” You heard Hunter say as your body began to go limp. Who knows how long you were out, coming in and out of consciousness, your eyes would open every now and then, getting small glimpses of what was unfolding around you. You could see the bright light of the ship come down, it had to have been the Batch, feeling as the sand hit your face. Hearing the worried conversations ringing throughout your mind. 

Your eyes begin to slowly open, taking a second to adjust to the light beaming down on you. Feeling the pain of your Wounds coursing throughout your body, causing a groan to escape your lips. Unsure of where you were, you tried sitting up, but falling back immediately. “Mm fuck” you cried softly. 

Your groans caught the attention of Hunter who was sitting in the chair, by the corner of the room. “She's awake” he called out to the others coming to your side. His hand pushed your hair back and behind your ear, getting a clear view of your face. “Hello handsome” you said with a cheeky grin going to laugh, but coughing in the process hurting your side. “Easy, easy, he got you pretty bad.”

Hunter leaned down and kissed your forehead. “I thought I lost you. . there was a moment I thought you weren’t coming back. . scared us all” he explained to you, the pain coming through his voice. “I’m fine” You said to him with a weak smile, grabbing onto his hand. There was a look in his eyes, full of shame and regret. He looked away, not facing you. . taking a deep breath. “Look I.” Hunter began but you cut him off “I know” You said to him softly, his eyes softened. “I’m sorry.” his head fell. “I’ve been so, unfair to you.” He barely let out, he felt horrible for his recent outbursts and detached emotions, but you didn’t blame him. You never did. “It’s not something you have to apologise for Hunter, I get it. .” You tried to make him feel better, but he shook his head disagreeing with your words.

“No, it’s not okay,” Hunter said sternly. “You don’t deserve that. . what if, what if I couldn’t get you back. . all I’ve been is unfair and cruel. . I don’t mean to be. I don’t know why I do it. . I hate it.” He admits to you his voice breaking with every word. “I hate that I am, that I can’t express myself properly, I just end up hurting you further. . I fight and” he went to continued but you stopped him “Hunter. .” You looked at him with a soft gaze, feeling his pain. You knew he was trying, you knew he was struggling and it broke your heart. “I forgive you.” You gave him a faint smile reaching your hand up and cupping your cheek. “But never be afraid to tell me what's going on inside that crazy head of yours, alright?”He nodded his head “yeah. .okay”

“I love you so much. .and I wanna be able to help you. But I want you to understand that I never will and never have blamed you for anything, everyone processes their emotions differently and that's fine. . just don’t leave me in the dark. Promise me from here on out you’ll try.” You said pleading with him. “I promise” he said to you softly “I love you.”

“I know.” you smiled. 

@allicat0 . .signing off

[flamingo-writes]

ok but hear me out, artist f reader having pregnancy craving and hobie is taking care of her, that would be so adorable 😭💖 really love your posts, xoxo

No listen, I’m with you in this. Part of his badass punk nature is looking after his own, like the way he looks after Gwen, and how he helped Miles after 20 minutes of meeting him. I’m sure he’d be hella attentive of his s/o especially if his s/o is pregnant. Let’s go!

Chocolate Banana Bread — Hobie x Reader

You never really discussed children. Living together, staying life long partners was out of the question. It was just a given. Children were never part of the conversation. Not because you didn’t want them, but because it never turned up.

And when you found out you were pregnant, the both of you panicked a little bit. And you weren’t sure on what to do next. And the more time it went by, the more comfortable and even excited you got with the idea of becoming parents.

Hobie was already a very supportive boyfriend, but the moment you found out about the pregnancy he became even more protective and attentive. Even when you thought it was impossible. Especially when it came to your cravings.

However, his spider sense worked almost like telepathy. Every time he came home from doing his spidey duties, or just running errands, he always brought you something. And somehow it always seemed to be exactly what you craved.

Most of your days looked the same. Working in art pieces in the morning, a couple of commissions, a couple of personal projects. You went to the art gallery you helped run and helped around with whatever was needed. Lunch break. Some more time at the gallery, mostly showing people around. And then back home. And an hour or so later, Hobie returned.

However, on one of your free days, halfway through your pregnancy, you were starting to get restless. You spent the morning not doing much, watering your plants, cleaning your brushes, organising all the paint you had, even gathering all of Hobie’s sketches and pieces of scrap paper he used for his collages and random materials for installations.

This day in particular you weren’t sure what you were craving. But you wanted to eat something very particular, but you couldn’t pin point exactly what. Chocolate maybe? Bread? You could do some chocolate bread, but there was something else missing. Raisins? No. That was weird. But pregnant women got weird cravings wasn’t it? Banana? You don’t remember being this crazy over bananas but many of the things that had changed, you attributed them to the pregnancy.

Chocolate banana bread.

As you looked around the kitchen, you grew frustrated with the fact that you had very few cocoa powder. Enough flour. And no bananas. In any other moment, you could easily grab your wallet and keys and go buy what you needed. But not today. Today the raging hormones got the better of you and you felt incredibly overwhelmed with everything. The lack of ingredients. The effort of grabbing your things. Walking to the store. On your free day! This isn’t how you wished to spend your free day! Bubbling like soda, your emotions soon erupted from your eyes in desperate tears as you tried to make sense of your own emotions.

“Home, sweet’eart!” You heard Hobie’s voice echoing, coming from the room. “Marco!”

“Polo!” You replied between sobs.

Upon hearing your shaky voice, Hobie rushed out of the bedroom, alarmed. As he saw you, he got up to you and called your name softly.

“Hey, hey, baby, what’s wrong?” He asked as he gently cupped your cheeks in his large hands. “Hey, it’s okay. Everything’s gonna be okay, baby, what happened?”

“I wanted to make chocolate banana bread and we only’ve got flour…” You sobbed softly, your eyes wide and teary.

Hobie chuckled softly and kissed your forehead. “Hey, it’s a’ight, let’s make banana bread, luv…” He said as he pulled away and swung his backpack off his shoulder and opened it. “Take a peek,”

You cleaned your tears and looked at him puzzled before looking inside. Your eyes widened, and the plethora of hormones and emotions made your eyes teary once more as you started crying again. Hobie giggled softly.

“Hobie! You brought what we needed for the banana bread!” You sobbed.

“Hey, it was a hunch. These spider senses are pretty spot on, aren’t they?” He chuckled as you nodded and cleaned your face with the back of your hand. “Come on, luv…” He said, kissing your forehead. “You can stop crying…”

“I’m just very happy, Hobes…” You cried softly.

“I know, babe…” He chuckled cupping one of your cheeks, “I think it’s cute, actually” he purred before jerking his head, “c’mon, let’s get bakin’, although, I don’t want my banana bread all salty from tears…” He teased, making you laugh.

“Let me go wash my face…” You whispered as he clicked his tongue and winked.

“Sure, I’ll get started in everything else,”

[regionalcinnabonmanager]

“You wouldn’t have a key to this random door, would you?” 

Flufftober 14: locked in/trapped

You and Leon are stuck in a storage closet at the DSO's headquarters. One problem: You're claustrophobic.

fluff, (obvi) second person pov, gn reader, idiots in love, mutual pining, leon is awkward at feelings, he is also a major simp for you, written with re4 leon in mind but can be read as any, let me know if i need more tags. i don’t think it needs much? NOT PROOFREAD.

word count: 2.1k

i fell in love with leon and subsequently hopped on the fluff train, now i'm writing this nonsense fic. rationale is,, not optimum rn but thats fine, uhh enjoy, simps.

--

“Ow-!” Leon winced in response to you stepping on his foot by accident. 

“Sorry!” You took your foot off of Leon’s as you tried to look for that damn battery pack Hunnigan told you and Leon to look for, struggling greatly to find it as you shined your flashlight in various directions, trying to find it. 

A blackout had happened at the DSO. Those usually never happen at HQ, due to there being backup generators during city-wide blackouts, but apparently, some idiot electrician fixing something down there had screwed up and caused all the lights at HQ to go bye-bye.

So now you were stuck in a dark, small, storage room only big enough for two people to freely move around in, looking for a spare battery pack for people’s flashlights. 

“Found it yet?” Leon asked, shining his flashlight at the storage racks filled with various chemicals and cleaning supplies. You scoffed in response.

“If I did, I’d be grabbing the thing and getting out of this damn room ASAP. Starting to get really uncomfortable here..” You replied with snark, spotting the battery pack a little bit after. With a feeling of accomplishment, you took it. “Found it.” You turned around and held it up, shining your flashlight upwards.

“Good, let’s get out of here and get it to Hunnigan. Still don’t know why she made us do this..” He sighs, hand reaching out to turn the lever door knob. 

As he does so, the door knob falls to the floor with a clatter. Leon picks it back up and tries to reattach the piece of metal, but fails; and it falls to the floor again. 

Silence envelops the room as the two of you stare at the door knob for a few seconds… and then slowly, your eyes meet each other’s. 

Shit.

“What did you do!?” You were the first to break the silence with an exasperated remark, questioning how the fuck Leon managed to break the doorknob.

“I didn’t do anything! The knob just.. broke.” He replies, equally as confused as you are. 

Oh shit, this was your worst nightmare put into words. Which was ironic, considering you worked at an organisation that dealt with nightmarish monstrosities on the regular. 

Of all the things you could be afraid of, somehow small spaces were one of those great fears.

You felt yourself begin to panic. The room felt suffocating. 

“Okay, relax, I’ll just call Hunnigan and tell her we’re stuck in the storage closet. She’ll get us out.” Leon pulled out his phone and flipped it open, dialling Hunnigan. Shortly after, she picked up, and he explained what had happened to the both of you. 

As Leon was on the phone with her, you bit the inside of your cheek and began to zone out, trying to keep yourself together. You could barely hear their conversation as a high-pitched ringing drowned out their voices.

“..Thanks Hunnigan. Bye.” He ended the call, flipping his phone closed with a sigh. “Hunnigan called facilities. ETA is in an hour, so we might as well get comfy.” He pocketed the device as he turned to your still form staring at the wall. “Hey, you good?” He reached over to pat you on the shoulder, snapping you out of your trance.

That seemed to work, as your head immediately turned to him. “Huh? What?”

Leon sighed, repeating what he just said to you. “Are you okay?” He added at the end. “You were kinda.. zoning out.”

You shook your head and sighed, your face twisted into a frown. “No- yeah, I’m uh..” 

Leon raised a brow. “Are you okay or not?” 

Figuring that you can’t hide the truth forever, especially not in a room as small as this, you decided to tell him your fear. “I’m claustrophobic. And I’m kinda, y’know, freakin’ out right now-” You laughed in an attempt to stop yourself from spiralling, but it just made you look sad. 

A look of realisation crossed Leon’s face as he tried to think of what to do to help you calm down. He had experienced panic attacks before, and he knew how to deal with them. Maybe that can help?

“Alright, deep breaths right now, okay?” Leon took your hands and sat you down on the cold floor in an attempt to ground you back to reality. He gently took your face and made you look at him, his blue eyes meeting yours. “Tell me five things you can see.” He took your shining flashlight and pointed it up, letting you see your surroundings.

You looked around momentarily, your eyes landing on a plastic container filled with an orange liquid. “Floor cleaner,” Your eyes trailed over to other spots, “Rat poison, white floor, mop, mop bucket.”  

“Good.” Leon tried to remember the next step. “Four things you can touch.” 

You raised a hand and felt around the place, landing on the cold floor. “Floor..” You touched your arm, fabric balled into your grip. “Clothes,” you reached behind you to feel the cold metal of the storage rack. “Storage rack..” 

You then looked down at Leon’s hand on yours, turning your wrist to intertwine your fingers with his. “Your hand..” You mumbled with a little warmth in your cheeks. Leon seemed to share the same heat on his face as well, but you both chose to ignore it.

Clearing his throat, Leon let your hand stay with his as he ran you through the last three steps of the grounding technique. 

“You feel better?” He asks softly, rubbing the skin of your hand with his thumb. 

You nodded, looking up at him. “Yeah, yeah, I’m.. feeling better now..” 

There was a kind of tension in the room as the two of you sat on the floor of the supply closet in silence, hand in hand. Neither of you had ever done this before, so there was a definite awkwardness.

He was just trying to help you calm down, You thought to yourself, rationalising his actions. Nothing more to it. 

Your eyes shifted over to Leon, glancing at his face for a second before looking away.

Shit, they’re probably uncomfortable right now, Leon silently thought to himself. But, they’re not pulling their hand away.. Maybe they don’t mind it?

“How- how much time did Hunnigan say facilities would get here?” You broke the silence with a question.

“An hour, she said. Although, they might get here a bit later because they’re still dealing with the electricity problem. Then they’ll get us out.” He replied with a sigh, leaning back into the metal storage rack behind the two of you. “Don’t worry. It probably won’t be too long.” 

You nodded in response. An hour, huh? Well fuck. What’s two people to do ‘til then?

The two of you sat in more silence as you quietly waited for time to pass by, the occasional clicking of shoes together the only source of sound in the room. Leon’s flashlight was propped up and acted as the singular light source that illuminated everything just enough for it to be visible. With which, you decided to admire your best friend’s arms.

Everyone with eyes knew Leon was a catch. He was blessed with good looks, and a body that looked like it was chiselled by the Gods. Whether he knew it or not, he was dashing. You knew that, everyone did. 

Fortunately, (or unfortunately,) you had the pleasure of knowing what was behind that physical layer and found the treasure underneath. He was kind, endearing, always fought for what was right, and was overall, a really good guy.

And thus, the crush began. You’ve been hiding it pretty well, you’d think. He didn’t seem to notice anything. Besides, if he did, it’s not like you could do anything about it. He probably doesn’t feel the same..

As you went on your little thought train, your mind wandered deeper into the brainrot, thinking about how his arms would feel wrapped around you and embracing you in a warm hug..

“Can you like, hug me?”

Leon turned to you, giving you a look of confusion. “What?” 

Shit, did you say that out loud? FUCK.

Well, no turning back now.

“Uh- can you.. give me a hug?” You asked again, a little more embarrassed this time.

He was a little bit hesitant, but you reassured him that it was fine. And so he finally put his arms around you, gently pulling you towards him and resting your head on his shoulder. The position was not innocent at all. You were facing him, your chest against his as his arms wrapped around your waist and your head rested on his shoulder. 

 A little intimate for ‘best friends’, there. A little voice in your head spoke up, but you quickly shut it down, deciding to ignore it in favour of feeling the comfort of Leon’s arms around you.

Even if he doesn’t like you in the same way, then at least… you can still enjoy the feeling of being his best friend. Enjoy this hug. 

Your shoulders slumped a little at that thought. 

--

Holy fuck, holy fuck, holy fuck, the holiest of fucks. What in the actual hell am I doing?

Leon silently panicked to himself as he held you in his arms. Was he really doing this? Was this real? Did he or did he really not have his best friend/long-time crush in his arms right now? And you’re the one that asked for the hug? This was a dream come true. 

Maybe… this is a hint that they like me? He thought to himself, before dismissing the thoughts. No.. they probably don’t feel the same way. 

He heard a little yawn from you, betraying your fatigue. “You wanna sleep?” He asked, to which you nod in response to. “Alright..” Acknowledgement comes from him in the form of a soft whisper.

Fuck, they’re so cute when they’re tired.. He raised a hand from your waist to your back, drawing circles to help you fall asleep. He knew you deserved this. You’ve been running around settling the technical things since the blackout, no wonder you’d be just about ready to collapse. 

After about 20 minutes, he eventually feels you relax in his arms, your breathing slowing down to a calmer, more peaceful pace. A tell-tale sign that you’re asleep.

He sighs quietly, deciding to talk to himself as you sleep. “Why did I have to fall for you?” He whispers as he continues to draw circles on your back. “Why did it have to be you?” 

“You’re way out of my league. Stunning, smart, funny… God, I knew I’d never have a chance, but I just couldn’t help falling for you.”

It was really no wonder how he fell for you. You were everything he wanted, but he knew he’d never have you for a multitude of reasons.

“You’re much better off without me. You shouldn’t have to worry about someone who’ll die on you anytime I’m away. But fuck, I want you so bad.”

That was the truth. His job made it hard to maintain a relationship, he knew that, you knew that. In fact, every agent in the building knew it. Though there were no restrictions on having a family, most were either too busy to find love or chose not to for obvious reasons.

Leon held you tighter in his arms, being careful not to crush you. “I love you. So much. I know I can’t have you, but that’s fine. I’ll keep loving you from afar.” 

He sighed, thinking about why he was even spilling his heart out like this. “What am I saying? You can’t even hear me..” He chuckled mirthlessly.  His hand gently cradled the back of your head, a small smile on his face as he played with the hair on the nape of your neck. 

Unbeknownst to him, you were still awake. Half-asleep, but you heard everything.

Bonus:

The lights flickered back on, waking Leon up from his sleep. The power was back, and there was a clattering of the lock on the other side of the door.

“You two okay in there?” Hunnigan’s muffled voice called from the other side of the door. “We almost got the lock opened, just hold on.”

A few minutes later, the door opened, revealing a guy from facilities and Hunnigan standing in the doorway. “Oh, thank God you two are fine-” 

She stops in her tracks, spotting you in Leon’s arms, sitting on the floor. She blinks a few times, trying to connect the dots. “Did you two-” 

“Nothing happened.” Leon got up, carrying you with ease and walking out of the door. He did not want to speak of what happened, lest it caused a gossip storm among the employees. “Don’t tell anyone.” 

Hunnigan just followed along, kind of having this ‘whatever’ mindset. 

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

✨✨✨ (so I can id my post)

Aita for not wanting another color guard member to be in leadership when I’m technically not either?

I (m18) am a junior in high school and have been doing color guard since the winter of my freshman year (over 2 years at this point) and besides our seniors, (who, for obvious reasons, are not going to be there next year) I am the oldest and most experienced person in our guard. Our captain is a senior, and since July, people have been saying that they think I should replace her as captain next year. I’ve been wanting to be captain after her since before then. We aren’t doing winter guard this year, but the past couple of months, we’ve been meeting after school on Wednesdays to practice. Our current captain and only other squad leader are both seniors so they haven’t been coming, making us leaderless for the time being. I’m more likely than not going to be captain next year, given that I’m the only person who’s willing and qualified, and have been attempting to step up to the plate with these practices, but but am having some problems with a certain member that we’ll call K (nb14/15).

When I told K that we’d be doing the practices weekly and gave them some of the details, they said that they knew already and that they were the one to organise it with our band director. This confused me, because I was the one who talked to our BD about the practices and she said nothing about having already talked to K about it, but I figured that it was just a communication mess-up and moved on.

The next week, I reminded everyone that we’d have practice after school on Wednesday at a specific time and in a specific place. On Wednesday, I went to the assigned place, but nobody was there, which confused and worried me because I had seen everyone that was going to be there earlier. I was legitimately really worried because even when I called/texted everyone that was supposed to be there, I was not getting a response. I’m kind of freaking out at this point, so I go to the band room to ask our band director if she’s seen them, and she tells me that they were in the gym. I go to the gym, and everyone’s in there, already practicing. I was pretty upset, because I’d told multiple people multiple times that I’d be at practice, which was happening in another place and when that changed nobody came to get me, but I brushed this off as a miscommunication. At this point, I was starting to notice that K has been doing a lot of stuff without talking to me first, and sometimes was getting information about specific guard stuff before me.

The next day, I ask K if there was a way that we could meet up for lunch to talk about color guard next year, because they were taking on certain leadership roles lately and I didn’t want to undermine them, but wanted to be able to handle things myself. They said that they were busy that week and next because of an English assignment (which shouldn’t be taking up lunch time for a full week, but I digress) and I took it and told them to get in touch with me when they were available to meet. I reminded them the next week, but they said that they were still too busy.

A couple weeks later, a different guard member texted me and said that she, K, and a few others decided that it would be best to cancel practice for the next two weeks because we were all really busy with school work that week, and had a special school event the next week. I was a little annoyed that I hadn’t been involved in this conversation, but was ok with it because I needed the time anyway. Two weeks go by, it’s Wednesday, and I’m about to go home because I thought we wouldn’t have practice, but when I passed the place that we usually meet at, everyone was there and was practicing. This time I was legitimately upset and pulled K to the side and told them that if they’re going to make decisions like this, they’re going to have to make sure EVERYONE is told, because good leadership requires communication, they apologized and we tried to move on with practice, but I left early, because there wasn’t enough space for me and it didn’t really seem like anyone wanted me there. (And even though K apologized, I was still upset about the situation)

This week (at the time of submitting) I wasn’t able to go because I was sick, but it was also the first time that some new people would be practicing, so I texted K and told them to teach them drop spins and pull hits. They responded and said that they’d taught them before so they knew what they were doing. I had not heard of this happening before then and it threw me off, but I was too tired to do anything.

this makes me look really bad, but there are a few things to take into consideration:

Before this all went down, it was sort of mutually established between us that I would be taking over next year, so it’s not like K is just doing what needs to be done, because I’ve been doing it already.

K is a freshman, and has only done color guard for one season, so they’re under experienced for the role that they’re attempting to take on

I mean this as no offense to them, because they work really hard and legitimately love guard, but K isn’t very good at it. This wouldn’t usually bother me, but I’m scared that they’re going to teach the rookies the wrong technique and it’s going to slow them down at band camp next year

I have a plan for what next year could look like, that I’m pretty positive that K would like, but I need to talk to them about it first and they’ve sort of been avoiding me.

What are these acronyms?

[mapofthemazeinthemirror]

I have been meaning to yap to you about this because I am a certified mafia jjun enjoyer but….listen!

two things: one (1) reader is hired by said mafia group to protect the leader (yeonjun) gosh I imagine like enemies to lovers? she hates yeonjun at first, and thinks he’s so so mean. At first he thinks “how is she going to protect me?” but she’s protecting him more than physically. he eventually eases up on her and ends up being mean to everyone but her. gahhh something about meanie jjunie that has a soft spot gets me.

two (2) this might be quick but reader and mafia boss tyun being from rival families, but they cross paths and end up falling for each other. aaaah forbidden romance <3

ASH I LOVE YOUR MIND. Thank you for feeding me with this. I’ve been craving gang txt ever since the new gbgb choreo, the part where it looks like they’re fighting 🫢 Number two (2) with Taehyun is so yummy, just imagine the banter they'd have with each other!

words: 1.8k oops

warnings: a bit of workplace discrimination, mentions of attacks, criminal activity, blood briefly, treating wounds, probably too soft at the end

If there’s one thing you’re going to do, it’s do your job damn well regardless of your personal feelings towards the man you’ve been hired to protect – and especially if said man seems to think you’re not fit for the job. It appeared Yeonjun was not pleased when you first showed up to work, pulling a member of his team aside and having what looked like a tense conversation. It only made you more intent on proving your position. You often butted heads, unable to agree on the right approach to many things. Yeonjun prioritized quick gains, confrontations and aggressive plays, recurrently willing to forgo his security or the safety of the more expendable members of his organisation to get what he was after. On the other hand, you wanted him to undertake less risky tactics, ones that were better for his reputation, his long-term safety. There were a couple of instances where he tried to plan some dealings without you, locking you out of his office and leaving you to stand outside fuming and trying to hear what little of the discussion you could through the crack in the door. The men took you even less seriously after that stunt – if the boss didn’t respect you, why should they?

Using your intel, you cleverly plan out routes for the driver to take that steer clear of trouble. At first Yeonjun is annoyed and questions the detour, but later that night, he learns through his informant that police were doing a random car check on the usual route, due to the crimes of a gang in the area. When he thanks you the following morning, you think you've earned the respect you've been craving. However, the good feeling doesn't last. As the day goes on, not only does Yeonjun give you his drink order, as if you're a simple assistant or coffee runner, he also laughs at a joke one of his men makes about you, right in front of you.

And maybe from time to time you fantasize about the young, stupidly good looking, ridiculously well dressed mafia boss getting what he deserved; about letting his laundering fall through, letting his shipment go to the wrong country, or turning a blind eye to the betrayal of one of his most valuable men that you have discovered. But you're a professional, and professionals don't let their sour thoughts derail their career.

It's only when the truth about the disloyalty of Yeonjun's right hand man is laid out for him that things begin to change. You had supplied all the proof, having hired a private investigator of sorts to get the incriminating photos you needed, accumulating dirt on the man who was Yeonjun's favourite, his oldest friend in the business, until there was no room for doubt in his mind.

What you hadn't expected was for the boss to show up at your place a few days after your exposé, looking more exhausted than you'd ever seen him. The betrayal had hit him hard. He seemed despondent as he glanced around at the place you lived, showing no reflection of his opinion. You weren't even sure how much he was taking in with those tired dark eyes. His hair was not to his usual standard, and his coat which was usually tied fashionably at his waist hung open and loose on his thin frame. You felt more awkward standing before him in this state than you ever had when he'd been laughing at your expense. You offered him a seat but he turned it down. All you could do was stare and wait for him to speak.

“I'm very grateful,” he began. His voice was hoarse, bringing a deepness to it you'd never known. Finally he looked you straight in the eye for the first time since he'd arrived. “I never would have seen it for myself. I was blinded by my… If you hadn't disclosed this to me…” It was the first time you'd seen him struggle to articulate himself. You nodded in understanding, and he seemed relieved.

After that, you were given a raise – a silent one, since he applied it without saying anything to you about it – and an office of your own. Not only did the jokes and snide comments from the other men stop, but they seemed to eye you with caution, some with reverence. You had become the one Yeonjun trusted most, the one he came to with his concerns, and nobody would ever question your value again. Not unless they wanted to face the boss's fury.

Things have been good for a while: you love your job – and maybe, as much as you hate to admit it, your boss, just a little bit? – when something unforeseeable happens. You're busy handling communications when you spot Yeonjun's ride pull up in the underground lot on the security monitor. Watching as the two front doors of the vehicle swing open and both the driver and the ridealong dash to open the back doors, your anxiety is thrown into gear. Then Yeonjun stumbles out from the back seat. You're on your feet before you see them check him over, out the door before he can wave them off.

By the time he's in the building, there are more men around him, asking questions and putting their hands on his shoulders in concern. He shakes them all off in annoyance, ordering them to get back to work. As the men fall away he spots you standing by, and he softens. When he approaches, you see the sharp red lines that are scratched into the side of his face, notice the bloody cuts on his hand as it sweeps his black hair up over his forehead.

“What happened?” you ask when he reaches you, even though you have a pretty good idea in your mind. You need to know anyway, as you keep a record of all offenses committed against him.

“It was an ambush,” he says simply. He watches your hands take his bigger ones from his sides and turn them over, inspecting. His hands suddenly feel cold in contrast to your warm skin as you make contact.

“Are you okay?” You glance briefly up to his eyes, indicating that your question does not refer to his obvious abrasions.

“That bullet proof glass might need a touch up,” he states rather matter-of-factly in reply, looking away from you. He sounds so nonchalant, as if it's not a big deal. Your heartbeat has picked up significantly, an unexpected reaction to hearing about danger that has already passed, and you realise that a threat to Yeonjun's safety means more to you than it should; more than a professional responsibility for his security.

You usher him into his office and locate the medical kit. This is the first time you'll be putting your first aid training to good use, you muse silently as you pull the lamp down close to Yeonjun's face. It's an intimate position you've found yourself in; Yeonjun seated on the large plush sofa while you hover above him, one knee on the seat of the sofa to steady yourself. You don't even register that your knee is between his spread legs, so focused on treating his injuries. You've never touched him before, and yet it feels like one of the most natural things you've ever done as you work instinctively, the fingers of your non-dominant hand along his cheek without your noticing. His warm eyes, which had seemed distant just a moment ago, check your face occasionally, until he abandons subtlety and they unabashedly train on you as you treat him, lit by the glow of the lamp. You try not to notice it, though you definitely do.

“I usually do this myself,” he says quietly as you reach for a new cloth and the bottle of disinfectant once more. The tug of a lazy smile appears on his mouth. “This is much better.”

Your eyes meet his, and all at once you feel much too warm. Now that you're not concentrating, you notice the placement of your knee, and your whole body seems to come alive. Retracting it as casually as possible, you hold your hand out to him, hoping your flushed state will go unnoticed. The feeling of his palm against yours sends sparks through you, making you feel like a stupid high schooler. He's still smiling, which makes it even harder to ignore. You suppose he's used to his life being threatened, used to targeted attacks, and that's how he's so calm after the ambush. Unless the starry look in his eyes speaks of an oncoming concussion.

He doesn't flinch once as you disinfect his scrapes and cuts. You're glad there's no glass to be picked out of the wounds. He watches everything you do quietly, and you find yourself having to remind yourself to breathe occasionally. It's new to be this close to him, and you don't hate it – not in the slightest. Most of his wounds are superficial, thanks to the bullet proof glass, and once you've applied coverings to the cuts on his hands, you're all finished. When you go to move the lamp away, you notice that his face has changed. He looks drained now, all his earlier charm and blasé attitude abandoned, maybe a little paler than usual even under the warm light, and you wonder if he's starting to feel the effects of the ordeal.

“I'll get you some water,” you tell him. Before you can move away, you feel his fingers softly grasp your hand. Your eyes come back to his face in surprise.

“Wait,” he says, a little weakly. His eyes are looking away from you, his brow quirked as though he's trying to figure something out. “I'm fine. Can you- can you just…”

There's only been one other time he's not been sure of his words before, and he'd been through something rough then, too. Something inside you begins to warm up and slowly melt as you realise that Yeonjun is not as unbothered on the inside as he plays on the outside. He may be tough, but he's not invincible. He may have had this kind of attack on his life before, he might even be used to it or expect it, but his body still undergoes the shock, even if it’s a delayed reaction.

His eyebrows are still slightly furrowed as he looks up at you. Without words and with the gentlest, smallest tug at your hand which you may not have noticed in another circumstance, which could probably have been played off as nothing if it had been rejected, he asks you to stay. You can't hide the smile that twitches at your lips. With something that feels like courage coursing through you, you step towards him. Turning slightly, you set yourself down on his lap and feel him relax. His arm winds around you to keep you snug to him and you lean your head onto his shoulder, getting a breath of expensive cologne. He sighs deeply before breathing evenly, dropping into a deep rest.

You're content like this, though you never imagined being this close to him, glad that he's resting when he clearly needs it, and proud that you could help. If this is how you can protect him physically, even if it's only in this small way, you'll take it. Though, in your head you've already begun thinking through methods of retaliation to whichever rival faction made this attempt on his life.

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

Hi bby girl hope you’re doing amazing❤️‍🔥

Can I request Matt x Reader(female) they broke up bc of Daredevil Matt finds out the reader has been dating again becomes extremely jealous and tries to sabotage her dates bc he still loves her and wants her back(happy ending maybe a little angst)🥹✨

hii sweet!! hope you’re well <3 sorry for the delay, I had a writing break before I got to finish this. thank you or requesting, hope you like it 💌

—

SABOTAGE

matt murdock x female reader

word count. 1289

warnings. angst? matt being jelly. hopeful ending

Matt's nightly absences could only go unnoticed for so long, especially with your sceptical eye second-guessing every excuse he could mutter. It wasn't long before you started to connect the dots, to put the pieces together, eventually figuring out that Matt had a secret lifestyle, being Daredevil.

At first, it made no sense - a blind man doing acrobats and shutting down crime organisations. But after weeks of observations and sneaking around, you confirmed your thoughts and finally decided to question him - cornering him into confessing.

Neither of you took the news well, and it caused a massive rift in your relationship. You felt betrayed by Matt's mistrust and wounded by his decision to leave you in the dark - feeling hurt as if he didn't trust you with the information.

The disloyalty began to interfere before it all got too much for you to handle - eventually leading to you calling things off. The feelings you had -have- for each other still remained, which made moving on just that bit harder.

After a few months, you wanted to get back out there - try dating again. Much easier said than done. The dating game was scarce and limited, so you took every available chance - wanting nothing more than to rid your mind of your ex and maybe have a couple casual hookups to clear the haze.

Though, nothing ever went to plan. 

Most of the guys you arranged dates with never showed, but the ones that did were incredibly dull and boring, and you'd find yourself having to make an excuse to leave halfway through dinner.

After a little while, it began to feel like a trick, as if you were playing a game that was rigged to lose. You were dating guys you had no interrest in, only to clear your mind of the one person you ever truly loved.

Even months later, you'd see parts of him everywhere you went or think of him when you saw his favourite food in store. The Bulletin didn't help either, plastering his face on every front page.

Eventually, you decided enough was enough and planned one last date before calling it quits. You arranged a date with the guy you had been texting non-stop for the past week. He seemed like everything you could want: sweet, charming and handsome, even similar beliefs.

-

The evening finally rolled around, and it was time for your date. You had spent the day pampering and prepping for tonight - getting your hair and nails done before splurging on a slightly over-budget dress.

You make your way to the restaurant with a pep in your step and scan the outside area for your date, waiting in the spot as arranged.

Time goes on, and you continue to stand patiently by the entrance for signs of your date's arrival. You send him another message -that goes unread like the others- before eventually deciding to call him. It goes straight to voicemail, and you can't help but notice the slight swell in your throat when you hear the line go dead.

You pull the phone from your ear and throw it in your bag. You turn back around and head for your apartment, tears welling in your eyes after being stood up for the nth time. 

On your way back home, you stop past your local Chinese restaurant for some dinner, deciding to treat yourself to food and a movie while you wallow on the couch. 

You hang around in the sitting area as you wait for the kitchen to make your favourite dishes, chatting to the elderly lady beside you when she strikes up a conversation. 

After a little while, your food is ready. You collect it from the guy at the front before waving goodbye to your new friend, and as you reach for the door, you accidentally bump into a new customer in the process.

"I'm so sorry. I wasn't— Matt?"

"Sweetheart?" your ex replies, a smile lining his lips. 

"Uh—" you breathe out, not knowing what to say. "Er— how you been?"

"Been better," he chuckles, head tilting to the side as if to analyse you. "You smell nice. What've you been up to?"

"Yeah," you laugh, remembering the series of events from this evening. "Went on a date."

"A date?" he repeats, his brows momentarily furrowing. "How was it?"

"Dunno, he never showed," you snicker, laughing at your self-depreciation. 

You brush off your hurt, but you can see the empathy and pity on Matt's face, as if he realises you're faking it - pretending not to be upset about it. 

"Are you free?" Matt asks, his features still as he fidgets with his stick - suddenly seeming tense and nervous. "Hoping you can come back to mine so we can talk."

"Yeah, guess so," you reply, clutching at your bag of takeout food. "Am I okay to eat this at yours? Don't want it getting cold."

"Yeah— yes, of course. Are you alright waiting for a few minutes while I order?"

"I can share mine," you smile genuinely, shaking the white bag. "Got plenty."

"Only if you don't mind," he grins. "I'll pay."

-

You and Matt chat at the dining table while you eat, catching up and laughing as if no time had passed, like you hadn't spent the last several months apart. 

Everything was going well until it didn't.

Matt places his chopsticks aside and rubs the bridge of his nose. "I haven't been honest with you," he exhales, shaking his head slightly. 

Your head cocks to the side, and your face pulls together - confused. "How? What do you mean?" you ask, placing your glass on the table. 

He sighs, his body language stiffening as if to tell you he's uncomfortable. "I'm not... over you," he pauses, finding the words he needs. "I didn't like that you moved on so fast... so I got in the way."

You feel your heart speed up, the flow thumping in your ears. "Got in the way? I don't— I don't understand. What did you do?"

"I scared your dates off," his tone quiet and ashamed.

"Are you serious?" your voice juxtaposing his meek one, almost cowering him. "Can't believe you," you spit, your brows knitted in anger. "Really."

"I did it because I couldn't— I still love you... I didn't want you with anyone else," he pleads, his eyes soft and apologetic. "Please? Just hear me out."

"No, Matt," your tone quieting as the hurt sinks in. "That's not fair. You don't get to do that. We broke up."

"I know, I know, but sweetheart, please," he says, his voice warm. "I never stopped loving you— and," he pauses, slipping his hand into yours. "I know you feel the same."

It was like you had to debate different parts of your brain. One part wanted to snatch your hand away and walk out the door, but the other part -the overpowering side- told you to stay, to forgive him. It told you to stop wasting more time and to kiss and make up. 

But instead, a slither of logic creeps in, and you slowly slip your hand from his, wrapping it around your arm and stroking as if to soothe yourself. 

"I do. I never stopped," you whisper. "But what you did wasn't right, Matt."

"I know, please, I would do anything— anything for you," Matt pleads, speaking desperately. "I would give you anything... just one more chance."

"Matt," you breathe out, rubbing your temples. "... I need a few days. Then maybe we can get a coffee and talk things out?"

"Yes," he replies instantly, responding without a second thought. "I'll wait. For as long as you need."

— — — — — — — — — — ☆ — — — — — — — — — —

matt taglist: @hailey-murdock @ashlynhasmanyhyperfixations @idontknowwhattohaveasmyuser @redecoratestan @kpopgirlbtssvt @scarletsloveletter @princess-pebbles-things @messymissy @schneeflocky @readerhead @thegreengoop @charmedkim @queerponcho @selfryed @simplyreflected @kinglokisqueen4ever

[burnedwriter]

‘’jealousy’’

warnings:none,just fluff,some angst,mention of cheating,petnames,some suggestive elements but not too spicy,!gender neutral reader

A/n:some headcannons of how jealous they are

A/n:Dottore and scara have me on a chokehold lately

🐉Zhongli

🐉zhongli is the least jealous person on the list.He doesnt really get jealous by you talking to other people,sometimes he even joins in the conversations,since your job consists with talking to people constantly

🐉hes totaly oblivious of how human interact with eachother,hes still learning after being a god for thousands of years,so even if you purposly tried to make him jealous it wouldnt work.

🐉but you had to put it to the test to see the results,so one day you decided to take it upon yourself and start flirting with a customer.Both of you talked while zhongli watched the whole thing unfold

After the customer left you see zhongli get up from where he was sitting and slowly approach you.You finally got him you thought to yourself,were you really about to see his jealous side?,just the thinking about it turned you on by what he could do to you to show you who you belong to

‘‘Dear i saw you speaking to that customer,do you know them or is this how mortals talk to their favourite customer?’‘Zhongli asked you confused

You were left speechless,did he really not notice what you were trying to do,was he really that oblivious

‘‘no’‘you replied,signing defeated

‘‘no?’‘he said questioning your reply

‘‘i tried to make you jealous but i failed miserably’‘you said disappointed by the results

‘‘hahaha...I know how much you love me and have showed to me multiple times’‘he laughed softly,at your little test you tried to put him through,Though he wasnt wrong at all,you did love zhongli and you were ready to spend an eternity with him

💉Dottore

💉Dottore also falls in the category of people that dont get jealous at all,i mean you wouldnt dare to make him jealous to say the least

💉The only time you saw him get jealous was when you and Dottere went on one of the ball that the Tsaritsa organised for her Harbingers and of coursed you were obligated to attend it since you were the signaficant other of a harbinger

💉 and there you were with your drink in your hand still waiting after an hour has passed waiting for dottore to come back after the Jester called out to him for an emergency meeting,he reasured you that it wouldnt take him long before leaving into the backrooms

Thats when a pyro agent walked towards your direction,the conversation starting off normal but the more it progress the more flirty it became,you told him that you wer already taken and not interested but he kept insisting.

Until you felt the presence of someone standing right behind you

‘‘How dare you try and take the signaficant other of a Harbinger’’Dottore said,anger slightly visible in his voice

The pyro agent started apologising profuriously,stambling over his words before running away with his tail between his legs

‘‘are you alright my dear?’‘he saked,placing his hand on your shoulder as a mean of reasurance.

‘‘Thank you for looking aout for me,he just wouldnt leave me alone’‘you answered as you exhaled in frustration

‘‘anything for you dear,lets go dance now shall we"he said grabbing your hand softly guiding into the circle

💨scaramouche/wanderer

💨Scara is at the top of the list of jealousy.He will try to play it off like it didnt bother him at all but deep down hes fuming.

💨He will give you little remarks until you confront him about the situation and explain yourself,although he might have changed for the better, some parts of him are the same

💨one day while trying to get to the location you and scara agreed to meet,you stumbled upon one of your childhood friends that you havent seen in a long time,You sat there for hours the two of you laughed and talked about your lives,making you loose track of time

Finally going to wave goodbye to your friend,you felt someone draging you by your wrist only to see it was scara and he looked pretty pissed.He pulled you away from the people and behind a tree were you could speak in peace

‘‘do you know how long i have been waiting for you,i thought somethings happened to you but no you were out there cheating on me!’‘he spat angryly at you

‘‘what are you talking about?,i was talking to my childhood friend that i havent met in a long time’‘you reasured him and telling him the truth

‘‘if you dont want to be with me,just say it i wont be mad at you’‘his words cold stabbing your heart like dagger but you knew he was just bitter

‘‘are you jealous’‘you said with a sly smile that started to form on your face

‘‘no’‘turning his face away from yours

‘‘yes you are’‘you started poking fun at his reaction

‘‘fine,maybe a little bit...’‘he admitted feeling not being able to hide it from you

‘‘i knew it!’‘you explaimed happyly

‘‘how about we go to the place we agreed to meet and talk it there hmm’‘

‘‘sure’‘agreeing to his proposition 

The both of you started walking to the correct diraction while you held his hand

[cetaitlaverite]

Anything to Anywhere

Masters of the Air - Bucky Egan x OC

sorry for the delay!! we are so back masterlist is here <3

13. Clay Pigeons

‘Stels,

Went on leave in London. I copied out the number of my hotel on the other side of this note. Call if you want to talk.

- John’

Stella had read and reread the note at least a hundred times since finding it beneath an empty mug at the place she sat at breakfast everyday. She wasn’t sure what she was feeling.

After storming out on him she’d spent all night tossing and turning, trying to come up with what she would say when she inevitably saw him the next day. Today. She’d even come up with something she was somewhat satisfied with. She knew she was a difficult person to deal with and resented that she showed some of her most complicated parts to John, so she’d put extra effort into forcing herself to be vulnerable when she explained herself.

But he was gone. Come morning, he had organised leave, packed up his belongings, and fled to London.

It made sense, Stella supposed, that he wasn’t going to stick around, holding his breath waiting for an apology he had no reason to expect was coming. But his absence stung her all the same. She didn’t care that he’d left a number for her to contact him on, she cared that he wasn’t here, that he’d just gone.

Screwing the letter up in one hand, Stella buried it in her pocket and thanked the waiter who delivered her breakfast. Then she went about her business as usual, trying her best to contribute to Alice and Jessop’s conversation even when she felt like storming out.

She flew her chits and mulled over everything she might say to John on the phone. She wouldn’t call him, she knew, but it was almost thrilling to imagine a version of herself who might. If she were braver or bolder or more forgivable she supposed she would. At this point, she’d made herself so utterly undesirable she was sure John had left the number solely out of courtesy and didn’t much want anything more to do with her.

Even still, that night she found herself gnawing on her bottom lip, sitting on her bed with her teddy bear in her lap as she toyed with the idea of calling.

He would be out, she reasoned with herself. He wouldn’t be sitting around in his hotel room, not on his first visit to London.

But then again, if she called and left a message at least he’d know she actually had called. She wouldn’t have to speak to him but he’d know she’d tried.

But he probably didn’t even want to hear from her. It was courtesy, she reminded herself. He didn’t mean it.

But if he did pick up, she wouldn’t have to have that difficult conversation she’d spent all night thinking up in person, and how much easier would it be to do it over the phone? He wouldn’t get to see her blush or tear up or any number of embarrassing things she might do when she had to apologise. All she would have to do was keep her voice steady.

So, pyjamas on, Stella shoved her feet into her boots and made her way to the ATA hut through the dark, to the only telephone she could use and guarantee no one would overhear her. Usually she’d go to the officers’ club, but at this time of night it would be packed and she didn’t much fancy dodging eavesdroppers while standing in the midst of everyone in her pyjamas.

Her heart was in her throat as she listened to the phone ring and she hadn’t even been put through to the operator yet. Her left foot was tapping vigorously against the ground, her right hand twisting and untwisting the telephone cord. She kept glancing over her shoulder, seeking out silhouettes in the dark corners of the room where the lamplight didn’t reach, kept tugging at the hem of her nightdress as though unwanted eyes were on her.

She felt she could have been sick.

When the operator put her through to John’s hotel the nausea only got worse. Stella considered hanging up a good many times but reasoned with herself that she’d traipsed all the way across base to get here so she was going to make it worth her while.

And then the hotel receptionist came on the phone and put her through to John’s room.

And then, after a hefty bout of ringing, the receptionist came back on the phone again.

“He doesn’t seem to be in, miss,” the receptionist said, the apology heavy in her voice. It was clear that, in spite of how Stella had introduced herself simply as a friend, the receptionist had inferred some sort of romantic intimacy in her relationship to John, had inferred that she was calling him in the middle of the night because she was suspicious of what he was doing in London.

Stella hated that implication. And she hated what the fact that he really wasn’t in his hotel room at eleven o’clock at night actually did imply.

“Oh,” Stella said, sounding forlorn even though she hadn’t honestly expected John to be in. “Can I - um -” She stopped to clear her throat of its awkward hoarseness. “Can I leave a message? Maybe?”

“Of course, miss,” the receptionist hurried to assure her warmly.

“Thank you,” Stella said, then hesitated. She was left breathing down the phone as she warred with herself about what to say. She couldn’t decide whether or not to deliver her prepared spiel to this random, unfortunate receptionist over the phone, but then the receptionist prompted her to speak and she could ruminate on it no more. Tentatively, she began, “Can you please tell him that Stella Finley called for him. That’s me. Obviously. Um - Sorry -” She shook her head at herself. “Can you just tell him that I said I’m sorry for running away from him. And that he was right. About my brothers. And - and just that I’m really sorry for being so difficult all the time and I don’t deserve to have him as a friend. Okay, that’s everything.”

The other end of the line was quiet. Stella worried, briefly, that the receptionist had hung up on her. But then she said, “I’ve got it all written down, miss. I’ll make sure to pass the message on.” There was something sad in her voice.

Stella let her eyes fall resignedly shut and breathed, “Thank you,” in reply.

She had no idea how long John was supposed to be on leave and, at first, she tried to convince herself not to care. She went to breakfast and flew her chits and wrote up her flight reports and went to dinner and went to the officers’ club and read her books and went about her business the way she always did. But she couldn’t ignore how big of a hole there was in her life; not having John there to talk to whenever she so desired left a bigger gap than she would have realised had he not so suddenly removed himself from it. A chasm, really.

He didn’t call her back the entirety of the following day.

Stella went to see Buck before he went out on his next mission.

“Finley,” he greeted her, glancing up in surprise when DeMarco, beside him, nudged him to get his attention.

“Hi,” Stella greeted in return, squinting into the morning sunshine. “I’m sorry to show up unannounced and I promise I won’t stay long, I just - do you know how long John’s going to be on leave? It’s not really any of my business and I suppose if he’d wanted me to know he would’ve told me but he left me a note and he told me to call him and I did but he didn’t pick up and now he hasn’t tried to call back - or, at least, no one’s told me that he has - so I was just wondering how long -”

“Finley,” Buck interrupted her, chuckling softly to himself under his breath. “He’ll call you back. I’m sure he’s just busy.”

“He probably doesn’t even want to talk to me,” Stella disagreed. She lifted a hand to shield her eyes from the sun, shifting on her feet. “Did he tell you what I did?”

Buck’s eyebrows furrowed. “What’d you do?”

“I ran away from him.”

“Why?”

“Because he was asking me personal questions.” Stella shook her head as though to clear it, lowered her hand from where it had been resting against her forehead and then raised it immediately right back up again when she found the sun just as strong as before. “Anyway -” Buck made to interrupt her but she kept on talking over him like she didn’t notice, “- do you know when he’s coming back? I just feel like I want to be prepared before I say something stupid.”

A short silence fell. There were only the sounds of airmen preparing for a mission, mechanics running around and ensuring each plane was ready. Behind Stella, Ken Lemmons was still fiddling around with the plane Buck was about to fly.

Buck was wearing a tiny, wry smile, silent as he simply stared at Stella in the wake of her babbling.

Stella raised her eyebrows at him, shuffling once more on her feet and resisting the urge to start tugging on her sleeves. She wasn’t sure why she felt so self-conscious - there was nothing in what she’d said that should be making him look at her like this.

“Tuesday,” he confessed at last, still with that same inexplicable smile. “He’s coming back Tuesday night.”

“Tuesday?” Stella asked. “That’s a long time to be on leave.” How long did one man possibly need to be in London by himself?

Buck shrugged. “He needed a break and he’s not needed around here until then.”

“He’s always needed around here,” Stella objected without thinking. When she heard her own words, however, she flushed so suddenly her cheeks were on fire. She clamped her mouth shut. “I mean, in the ops room,” she added hastily once she’d regained some semblance of composure.

Again, Buck chuckled under his breath. “Right,” he agreed. “But he needed a break, Fin. You ever taken one of those?”

“A break?” Now it was Stella’s turn to laugh. “No, never. As long as there are planes to ferry I’m staying here. I’d get antsy if I couldn’t fly - you saw how I was when I was in the infirmary.” She shook her head and batted the thought away. “Anyway, I’ll go now. Sorry for badgering you.”

Buck brushed her aside. “Ain’t no problem at all, Fin, you’re not badgering anyone.”

Stella smiled. Now she really was fiddling with her hands. She wasn’t sure how to tell him that she was grateful to have him as a friend - were they friends? - without coming on too strong, so all she could do was stare at him and smile.

“Have a good flight,” she offered after a beat, when she became conscious she had probably outstayed her welcome. “Come home safe and all that, okay? I’ll be lonely with you and John both gone.”

Buck rolled his eyes jovially and clapped her affectionately on the shoulder. “I’ll see you later, Fin. Take care of yourself when you’re out flying today, alright?”

“Alright,” Stella agreed. “You too, Buck.”

“Alright,” he answered her.

Stella gave him one final smile and a half-hearted, poorly executed salute before turning on her heel and heading back to the ATA hut from whence she’d come.

Tuesday. That was so far from now. She had no idea what she was supposed to spend her time doing until then. Waiting around for a return phone call, probably. How had he still not called? Had the receptionist even passed on the message? But she’d sounded so sincere over the phone. Surely he was just ignoring her. Or maybe he wasn’t even at the hotel - maybe he’d met a lovely, pretty, normal woman and was staying with her. Maybe, maybe, maybe.

Stella was twiddling her thumbs, sitting around on the edge of the airfield, when the B-17s returned from their mission. She wasn’t sure why - John wasn’t with them - but she supposed it might be nice to keep Buck company now that Curt was gone and John was away in London. He was probably even lonelier than she was with his best friend on leave.

Sixteen planes returned of the twenty-four which had been sent out. Three of those had experienced mechanical failures and come back early. Thirteen had completed a successful mission.

Eight planes had gone down somewhere over Germany.

Buck’s plane was among them.

“Fuck,” Stella wept as she sat in one of the returned B-17s that night. “Fuck!” She had no idea why she was crying except that so many people she knew were gone. Curt and Buck among her new friends, basically all of the boys she’d gone to school with, four of her brothers. Four of her brothers. She was supposed to have eight and she had four.

“Fuck!”

Stella slammed her hands into the yoke until they stung and burned, until they hurt too much to bang anymore. Then she gripped it tightly and squeezed until her hands went numb, digging her nails in until they broke and bled.

She tipped her head back until it rested against the seat behind her, shut her eyes tight and let the tears flow freely.

So many men. So many boys. How many more? John was sure to end up going too. He always talked about how good of a pilot Buck was, how he was the best. If even the best could go down then what hope did the rest of them have?

The Battle of Britain was finished and yet airmen were still being shot out of the sky like clay pigeons. The Germans were hunting all of them for sport. An entire generation of young men would be wiped out before the war was out and maybe then Stella would finally get her wish of being sent out into combat. Who else would there be to fight this pitiful, godforsaken war?

Stella’s hands were shaking when she released the yoke and pressed the heels of her palms into her eyes. Her shoulders were heaving with every sob, with every gasping, wheezing breath she drew in. How many more times was she going to have to sit in the dark and cry for a man her age or only just above, taken too soon by some nameless Luftwaffe pilot in the name of patriotism and glory?

It was on weak, shaking legs that she started the trek back to her hut, still weeping, hugging her arms tight around herself less to ward off the chill of the night and more to ward off her demons. Her feet were dragging behind her, her shoulders slumped forward, her head shaking from side to side like she was trying to reprimand the world for doing this to her over and over again.

“Stels,” John said, pushing up off the wall to her hut when she first came into view.

She didn’t hear him, just kept sniffling and sobbing, her bottom lip clasped between her teeth and her eyes full with so many tears it was like she had an endless lake inside of her.

“Stels,” he said again, louder, when she got closer. “Stella.”

She looked up, startled, and hiccuped when her next sob never came.

Through the darkness he was formidable, big and looming, somehow casting a shadow behind him even in the absence of light.

He didn’t try to approach her, just stared back at her from where he was.

There was a long moment of silence. The two of them stared at each other.

Stella’s bottom lip wobbled and she hiccuped once more. When she couldn’t help but sniffle she hastily wiped at her nose with her sleeve and accused, “You never called me back.”

“I only got your message after -” He faltered.

“After you found out about Buck?” Stella deduced.

He didn’t say anything, didn’t even nod, but Stella knew she was correct by the way his gaze hardened.

“Did you meet a woman?” she asked. She got a sick sense of satisfaction from the way he averted his eyes.

So she’d been right. He’d been staying at someone else’s place.

“Was she pretty?”

“Stels -” Again, he faltered.

Stella scoffed a low laugh. “John, it’s fine. I’m not your girlfriend. You can fuck whoever you want.”

“Stels.” No faltering, just that one word, a full sentence. All the disapproval of a father in the hardness of the consonants.

“I’ve never had sex,” she said, sniffling, wiping at her nose. “Is it any good?”

She revelled in the way she’d clearly caught him off guard. John, never unnerved by her, always expecting the unexpected, had not expected that.

“I’m not drunk,” she said, just to fill the empty air. She didn’t know if he was imagining she was but she wanted him to know she wasn’t just in case. Wanted him to know she was behaving like this out of emptiness, not inebriation. “I only had a few beers and a couple of shots. Tipsy, maybe. But not drunk.” She took an ambling step closer to him. “Are you drunk?”

“No.”

“Are you sad?”

Silence.

“I’m so sad,” she said, and laughed at herself. It was a sad laugh, the twinkle of wind chimes in an old, abandoned house, and she hiccuped right after, just so she didn’t forget she’d just been weeping. “All the time. ‘Cause - ‘cause -” The dam broke. The sobs she’d been withholding came spilling right back out of her. She was powerless to stop them, a doorstop trying to keep out a pack of angry wolves.

Wrapping her arms tightly around herself, Stella curled in on herself and started past John, pushed past him when he stepped in front of the door and then headed briskly into her hut. She didn’t feel like talking to him anymore. Didn’t feel like crying in front of him anymore.

She collapsed on her bed, boots and all, and curled up in a ball, with Ralph, her childhood teddy bear, clutched to her chest. She muffled her crying into the top of his head, tried fruitlessly to breathe in the smell of home which had long since faded away.

John sat on the bed beside hers. Alice’s bed. She didn’t turn to look but she could sense his presence. If she wasn’t crying and if she listened hard enough she thought she’d probably be able to hear him breathe.

He didn’t say anything while she cried. He didn’t even try to touch her. Maybe he feared she’d try to flee again if he did. She was so flighty, so delicate, unpredictable and liable to combust at any given moment.

She wouldn’t have fled. If he’d tried to touch her. She might have cried harder but she also might have cried softer. Had anyone ever tried to comfort her when she cried? No one ever seemed to know what to do with her.

“I’m sorry about Buck,” she managed to choke out when her tears started to slow. “I - I went to see him earlier and - and -”

“Shh,” John said simply. Finally, tentatively, he laid a hand on the centre of her back.

He had such big hands. Just one hand was on her and yet she was sure she could feel its warmth in her entire body.

She curled into it, pushed her spine back against it.

He started to rub it slowly up and down.

“My brothers -”

“I know, Stels.”

“Four of them.”

He drew in a deep breath. “‘M sorry.”

“Everyone keeps -”

“I know.”

“I don’t know what to do.”

John didn’t say anything. What was there for him to say? He didn’t know what to do either.

[taissaswifelowkey]

yellowjackets and how they’re jealous

1996 timeline, all characters aged up ‼️‼️

a/n: thought i’d hop on the jealous yellowjackets bandwagon. leave any feedback if you have any and enjoy reading 💪👁️

warnings: none, gay, self-indulgent YOU ALREADY KNOWWWW, proofread but idk some mistakes might still be lingering, i’m sorry :(

it starts below the cut 🧑‍🦲

📚 okay so i’ve said this so many times but taissa is genuinely a reasonable person. so she can’t get jealous. she knows you only want her, i mean all those looks you throw her in class? that’s saying something. it says a lot, even. but when the person you’re talking to starts getting a bit too comfortable with you, she will try to have an honest conversation. and if that person is in your class, she will possibly subtly tear that person down whenever there’s a debate going on. it’s an ethical method of having revenge. trust me my girl is on to something

🛹 van is asking herself if she’s supposed to be jealous. she’s just laughing at the person trying to flirt with you, all “lmao do they want to be a third or something???” and sneaks an arm around you. she is just a tiny bit insecure, but knows that you will never leave her. no one can make horror movies look like a comedy other than her, and no one can hold special evenings. from then on, to ignore how jealous she is she will organise said evenings more, to which you’re concerned but she just waves it off with a “i missed you all week.” so REASSURE HER!! hold her and give her lots of cuddles. overthinking will make her lose sleep

🕷️ a jealous nat? omg. bless the person who tried flirting with you and who touched your arm. that was the last limit. not like their stupid jokes did anything really, but as soon as they placed their hands on yours they were in for a long week of mind screwing. like, jumanji level of mind screwing. nothing too serious though. like just taking their jacket, waiting for a week and then placing it back. i feel like she’d be closed off for a bit too and avoid confrontation and when the time comes to talk she’s dismissive. it’ll take a bit to warm up to her heart and show her that she’s the only one you ever want to make you laugh the way she does, but you do work things out

🦉 misty does not hold back 💀💀 if the person who was running their hand through their hair trying to look cute and slick, she will leave wrong class notes and slip it inside their locker. and yes she found out bc she has disguising skills (a cap and a jacket). and they didn’t even know she existed, letting alone dating you. like “oh you go here??? my bad, i didn’t know”. when she got up from her place to march straight over to you after noticing how close they were. you were just like 🧍‍♀️🧍 “yeah we’re dating.” and you hold her hand in hers. what a charming sweet person you are. she’ll have to tell your children how you stood your ground and held their mother in your arms

🎀 lottie would just make her overthink tbh. you’re in her room one day going over homework when she randomly asks what’s you’re with her. you of course don’t even think twice and answer because you love her, she’s sweet and she feels like comfort. it reassures her a bit but pull her in your arms for a sweet kiss and repeat how much you love her, she’d melt. eventually she will ask you if the other person has a partner and why are they always with you. you answer honestly (not that you would ever hide anything from this girl) and the next day you’re laying boundaries with the person. all is well that ends well

🧸 jackie would walk straight up to you, and talk to you like the other person doesn’t even exist before walking you away from them under the guise of her not knowing where her home room is. she then sprays her perfume on your clothes, offers to polish one of your nails in the same colour she has, and wears your hoodie. now everyone will know that you two are together. she’s surprised how the person who dared touch you with their greasy fingers (her words) didn’t had the slightest of ideas that you’re basically a couple from ET magazine. it’s actually embarrassing for them. she’ll definitely dig out some info to use against them later, with her bsf shauna’s help of course. she’s the one who provides nearly all details.

🪵 shauna would be a tortured artist. she’d write poems on poems, diary entries on diary entries and won’t talk to you. you wonder if you did something wrong do you give her space until she talks. it doesn’t last that long though, just for a few days. when you do talk she has that sad yet slightly annoyed look on her face, all “i’d hate to interrupt your friendly conversation with your crush.” you don’t know what she’s talking about, she’s pissed off. she tells you to forget it but you softly and kindly insist, not wanting her to drop the subject so quickly. especially when it comes to the both of you. you let her know what it’s okay and that you’ll just stop seeing them if they continue to make moves on you. and even then she’s still writing about it weeks later, she’s lowkey still feeling the remainder of the hurt and plays emo music whenever she thinks of it though 😭😭 give my girl a hug

[alpaca-clouds]

I am so annoyed with atheists by now

I really am so annoyed with atheists right now. I do still have atheist friends. Like, not the "vaguely agnostic, but does not believe in the ONE GOD" kind of atheist. But the "starts screaming as soon as someone mentions religion". And... I just find it so childish?

I was so big into the entire new atheism thing between about 2010 and 2016. And even after that I got into arguments with religious people pretty regularly. Heck, I would even say I stand with some of the stuff I said back then. If you back the Catholic church that is an organisation that not only tries to keep their own child molestors from justice, but also do internationally so much harm to queer people and other minorities (like some disabled people). But... The problem in there is the organisation, not the believe. So, you know, these days I would kindly ask people to consider their membership in the church, not their believe. Especially in countries like Germany, where members of churches will help to finance the institution by the simple fact of being part of the church. (Churches in Germany are allowed to collect taxes.)

I personally was so angry about religion, because I had so much religious trauma. Because my very, very Catholic mother abused me in the name of her religion. And so many people in the church knew. And they just looked on. So I was angry. I was really angry about it. But nowadays I realize that just projecting that anger and hurt onto other religious people, that had nothing to do with it.

The thing with those atheist friends I have is, though, that they do not have religious trauma. In fact two of them were not even baptized or forced into a religion. They never had a religion. But still, they are so angry about it. And I... don't get it.

I mostly really got to be alright about religion because of Castlevania. That sounds funny, right? But really, empathizing with Isaac and his character arc helped me to... actually understand, why religion is important to so many people. From that I went into looking into how religion and race intersect. And from there more into the science of religion. I made religious friends, admittedly, yes, mostly Muslims.

My own religious believes by now are more going into the direction of spiritualism. But I do not really believe in the Abrahamitic "ONE GOD". Still, I have by now befriended an Imam. And I honestly have great philosophical conversations with him.

Still, the aforementioned atheistic friends... They have by now accused me several times of having converted to Islam because of it. Because they can just not fathom that I just talk to religious people about religion.

And they will just not... talk with religious people. Because religious people, according to them, are basically evil. And when I tell them, that with that they are about as prejudiced as they accuse religious people of being, they will just get angrier.

I will be frank... It is just exhausting.

Like, just let religious people, who do not use their religion as an excuse to be hateful towards minorities, do their stuff. They do not harm you. And you are not "more intelligent" and "more enlightened" than religious people, because you do not believe in any god.

Especially as a lot of atheists still believe in all kinds of unscientific shit.

Just chill, folks. Just chill.

[the-wales-5]

"Crazy for this girl" (Chapter 6)

His friendships have blossomed throughout the time. The prince was often seen talking with several people in the dining hall and taking part in rugby matches frequently.

His relationship, however, was on the rocks. William was aware that it was just a university thing and wouldn't last for a long period of time, but Massy-Birch’s constant complaints were an obstacle for him to find peace, furthermore he could not understand her at all. At last, he decided to have a conversation full of honesty.

“I feel like I do not matter to you anymore, Willy!” she said and pretended to cry

“I am sorry that our relationship is not as normal as you expected it to be”

“I knew what I was getting myself into! Don't treat me like a child, Willy”

“For God's sake, stop calling me ‘Willy’. You know that I don't really like that nickname”

“Oh, really? It was not an issue for you earlier”

“In fact, I do have an issue with lots of things these days” William closed his eyes

“I gather that you've got a problem with me as well” Massy-Birch rolled her eyes

“This is absolute nonsense. Why are you trying to inflict something that is not true?”

“You keep ignoring my calls, my text messages, you even avoided our one-month anniversary four days ago! Isn't that a big issue for you?!”

William tried not to scoff “Well, I'm sorry if you expected something more expensive than a new pair of earrings. And no, I am not treating you like a child as you put it. I am doing the exact opposite. I am trying to protect you and to maintain a remotely normal relationship”

“By avoiding it all the time? Why couldn't you even invite me for coffee somewhere? Is it a part of protection? You know, I also do have a problem - with your immature attitude!” his girlfriend said louder.

“We're just twenty years old. What do you expect? Nobody's ready for commitment at our age” William said a little bit louder but added calmly "Listen, it is difficult to organise those coffee dates days in advance, I've been avoiding calls not only from you but everyone, so as not to get hacked as it often happens in my family, and I've got many other things on my mind meanwhile” William exhaled deeply

“Well then, name one of those things! Let us talk in a normal way. Name at least one thing that bothers you apart from our relationship” Carley scoffed. There was silence for a moment, and William finally said “It's complicated, way too much than you think”

“No, it is not complicated at all. This is just another sick excuse of yours” Massy-Birch screamed and left the room.

William took a deep breath. At that moment, he was certain the thing between the two of them made no sense anymore.

Therefore, when a day later, Carley told him that she shared the same view, it brought him relief.

*

“Isn’t she coming to greet you? Is there trouble in paradise?” was the question asked by one of William's friends when they were waiting for one of the seminars, days after his relationship between him and Carley ended.

“No. We're no longer together” William said and took a sip of water

“Oh, already?”

“They all seem annoyed,” Fergus remarked as he looked in the direction of Massy-Birch, who was with two other girls, all sending evil looks towards her ex-boyfriend. “What was the reason? Was she out of your league?”

“I am not categorising women like that” William said, feeling quite annoyed by the claim “She is such a nice person, and we both love the countryside. This is not enough to keep a relationship for long, though”

“Are you still missing your previous girlfriend?” Oliver Baker asked

“That’s not the case either. My relationship with Arabella belongs to the past now”

“And what are your plans for the future?”

“Certainly not fortnight relationships like some of the couples here. I'd rather focus on organising you-know-what”

“Are the girls invited?” Fergus teased

“Stop asking me questions as if it was royal press conference"

“Is anyone aware if there will be a test from the information we were covering last week? I am not sure I am well-prepared”

“As always, Oliver” Fergus laughed

“Speak for yourself. I was not the one who could not attend one of the classes last week because of “sick leave" or rather a hangover”

“Stop it. Let's just see what happens“ Fergus replied and chuckled.

Although he did not like those particular classes, William was glad that it was starting at that moment, as it was an excuse for him to be out of his ex-girlfriend's sight.

**

Chapter 7