#by the third day remembering i still had another job i could go back to even if it paid less was indescribably cathartic.

[humunanunga]

Walking back into your old job for your last paycheck really does feel like letting your ex see how much you're flourishing without them.

[zhongfile]

something’s missing. — Lee Donghyuck

PAIRING. haechan x fem reader

GENRE. smut

WARNINGS. blackmailing, dubcon themes, unprotected sex, crying, slapping, oral, degradation, forced breeding, stalking of socials, non-consented recording. big d!ck haechan agenda.

WC. 2.1K

A/N: miss the dreamies so bad it got me writing again😪 please enjoy this smut that i’ve been working on for a while that only @2cupids has known about LOL. feedback is so highly appreciated it’s been so long!! proof read but not rly oops. hope you enjoy:’)

Haechan scoffed when he viewed your story. Jealousy washing over his body when he saw you kissing another man on the cheek. the caption reading happy one month with a pink heart emoji. “Unbelievable” he mumbled to himself, tossing his phone. Surely you were only posting that to make him upset right?

You and haechan parted ways a long time ago. Two years ago to be exact haechan still believing you loved him and only moved on to get a reaction out of him. Which.. wasn’t true. You stopped worrying about haechan the day you two broke up. Threatening to get a restraining order made him back off a little, giving you the chance to call the quits. Haechan tried to rationalize with you saying he couldn’t live without you and wanted to remain good friends even if you two weren’t together anymore. You were easy to manipulate though that quickly came to an end.

Your ‘friendship’ lasted maybe a good week before you stopped returning his phone calls and blocked him on everything. Now here you are two years later in a happy relationship, new friends, and even a better job. Haechan hasn’t even crossed your mind since you’ve been with Jake, finally feeling safe in a relationship for once.

Haechan on the other hand still kept tabs on you. Though you blocked him and all his friends he still had an old burner account he used to stalk your socials. He was happy to see you happy but hated that it wasn’t him being there for you and all your new accomplishments. He hated seeing you under another man. He hated that you were purposely posting all this to make him jealous. To make him react this way.

He shakes his head, smacking his dry lips together, how could you just move on that easily?

Haechan had to think of a way to get you back into his life again.

You laid your head on your boyfriend's chest as you slowly began to drift off to sleep. Your phone buzzed ignoring the first two times it went off getting up to check it the third time it buzzed. The number that texted you was a number you didn't save or recognize, figuring someone just had the wrong number. Your eyes went wide at the three video attachments of you fucking haechan and giving him head. ‘Why does he still have these?’ You asked yourself. Your heart sank at the following messages. He found you yet again.

Unknown: Remember these?

Unknown: Oh how I miss you and your tongue. I still watch these videos to get myself off

Unknown: come on y/n don’t ignore me :((

Unknown: maybe i should send these videos to jake huh? show him how much fun we used to have.

You froze at the text.. How did he know who Jake was?

You: please delete those videos haechan. seriously please

Unknown: look who finally decided to reply!

Unknown: come over and maybe i’ll consider deleting

You: please don’t do this again. just delete them and we both can go our separate ways donghyuck.

Unknown: either you come over or i send it to him. your call

Haechan smiled to himself when you texted you were on the way. He was going to make you his again.

Haechan decided to tidy up the place before your arrival, spraying some cheap air freshener in his living room to make his apartment seem more comfortable. He wanted seeing you again to be memorable, setting up a camera in the far left corner in his living room hiding it good enough so you wouldn’t see. His hands felt sweaty and his heart rate was increasing, butterflies filling his tummy. He couldn’t believe he was actually about to see you, a grin slowly creeping on his face.

You had a horrible feeling about how this whole thing was going to go. Haechan never takes no for an answer and you had a gut feeling it was going to take everything in you to get him to delete those old videos. The pit of your stomach began to drop when you arrived at his apartment. Horrible flashbacks started playing in the back of your head when you parked your car. let’s just get this over with you thought to yourself as you approached Haechan’s door.

It’s like he could feel your presence at the door opening it before you even knocked. He smiled, “hi”

“hey..” you mumbled under your breath barely looking at him.

Haechan opened the door wider welcoming you in. Everything was still the same.. the exact same. Same old raggedy furniture that he should’ve thrown away years ago. Even your old pictures of the two of you were hanging on the wall. All the memories between you two begin to flood your mind and you need to get haechan to delete these videos so you could leave and never think about him again.

“Come sit,” Haechan patted his thigh, that shit eating grin resting on his lips. You didn’t want to upset or trigger anything obeying everything he asked you to do. You sat on his knee, hands resting uncomfortably in your lap. “So tell me what’s been new? How are things with your little boyfriend?” he asked, moving your hair out of your face to see you better, making you close your eyes at his touch. “Things are okay...”

“Just okay?” he asked emphasizing on ‘just’

“things are good..” you corrected yourself trying to shift off his lap a bit haechan pulling you closer to him squeezing your thigh. “Why are you trying to run away from me?” He asked with a slight pout to his lips

“Haechan.. please” your voice was barely above a whisper refusing to make eye contact with him. “I just want you to delete the videos so we can go our separate ways again”

“Come on, you don’t miss me?” you didn’t reply quick enough for his liking making haechan pull you all the way onto his lap a gasp leaving your lips as you now straddled him.

“Haechan” you called softly “ohh now you can hear me” he let out a teasing laugh rubbing his hands up and down your thigh.

“please..” you begged once again. Haechan rubbed your cheek so softly and sweet like he actually cared about anything you were asking him for. He reached in the front of his pocket pulling his phone out unlocking it and showing you his messages. The video of you two already loaded up to be sent to jake. All it took was one press.

“Haechan please stop” you cry, “i’ll do anything!” you blurted out reaching for the phone.

Haechan locked it and looked down at you. And there it was. He knew you were gonna eventually give in.

He rests his arms on the couch looking at your head tilted to the side. “Get on your knees”

You hesitated getting off his lap kneeling between his spread legs. Your hands were shaking unbuckling his jeans only pulling his pants down far enough to free his cock. Haechan hisses at the cool air hitting his tip dripping in pre-cum. your lips glide over his length trying your best to fit him in your mouth. bobbing your head back and forth gently Haechan getting impatient with this little act you were putting up. You’ve sucked his dick plenty of times. Why are you acting like you don’t know what you are doing?

He grabbed a fistful of your hair making you yelp “Are you trying to piss me off huh?” he slapped you across the face making you close your eyes from the sting.

You shook your head no. “I can’t hear you” he slaps you again, a tear falling down your cheek. “no..” you sniffled.

“Then do it right” he pushed your head back down onto his cock doing the work for you.

“fuck” he mumbled under his breath pushing your face all the way down on his cock almost cumming on the spot watching you gag. You pinched at his thigh trying to get him to let go so you could breathe but Haechan didn’t care. He just wanted to get his dick wet by his favorite girl.

He finally pulled you up smirking at the way you gasped for air. He let out a moan at the sight of you. Drool and spit dripping down your chin and chest. Eyes filled with tears. He loved seeing you all messy like this. He swore his cock got harder from you crying. For him it was his favorite site. He grabbed you by the jaw guiding you back to his lap.

“Sit on it” you sniffled again wanting to tell him no but couldn’t risk making him more upset. Taking a step back to take your shorts and panties off. You align his cock up with your entrance gripping onto his shoulders to help steady yourself. Haechan surprisingly lets you take your time easing down on his cock the stretch feeling unbelievable.

Haechan let out a sigh when you finally sat all the way. Hands gripping your hips “still so fucking tight— shit”

“y/n— you gotta move or fuck— i’ll fuck up into you” you let your hands rest on his shoulder slowly beginning to bouce up and down.

“it hurts.. you’re too big” you mumbled in between sobs.

“Jake doesn’t fill you up this well does he baby?” you close your eyes at the mention of Jake. Feeling completely horrible for even doing this.

“You missed me didn’t you?” Haechan asked, thrusting up into you watching the way you bite your lip to hold back your moan.

your legs were growing weak and you felt like you could cum in any second. You wanted to keep your eyes closed but couldn’t help but look at the way haechan was so into it. His head was thrown back resting against the couch as he helped you bounce on his big cock. Lip snuck between his teeth watching the way his cock goes in and out of your sweet cunt.

“it’s so big,” you whimpered. “I know baby” Haechan cooed wiping at your tears.

“missed you and this pretty fucking pussy so much” he shook his head, “can’t believe you stayed this tight”

you tried to ignore his words grabbing at his shoulders so hard you were sure he’ll have marks in the morning.

“so pathetic your boyfriend can’t get you off the way i can”

“stop” you managed to mumble out. “What's wrong? don’t like it when i talk about your sweet boyfriend?” he teased.

“How do you think he’ll feel if he saw you right now? Whoring yourself out like this for me?” the tears wouldn’t stop. You hid your face in his shoulder begging him to stop bringing Jake up.

He let out a laugh at the way you hid yourself rubbing circles in your clit. “Haechan please.. stop” you weren’t even sure if you were letting out real words anymore. Your head was dizzy and full off of being a shitty girlfriend and Haechan.

“You’re so fucking close i know you” he laughed. “Cumming from the thought of your boyfriend seeing us fuck hm? Pretty fucked up way of thinking huh pretty girl?” The tears wouldn’t stop still hiding your face in the crook of his neck.

“you’re only crying because you feel bad for enjoying this” you begin to sob harder because he’s right.

You didn’t miss haechan and you didn’t miss your relationship but you missed this. The sex life. His big cock that he only enjoyed abusing on you. You love Jake and everything about him but you knew for a fact he wouldn’t fill you up the way Haechan is right now.

“Gonna cum in you” Haechan groaned, closing his eyes shut. You jolted up at his words telling him no.

“Gonna cum in your sweet cunt” Haechan moaned again ignoring your first protest.

“Haechan you can’t! i’m not on the pill—“ he covered your mouth with his left hand tossing his head back as he came in you. Filling you up so good. You closed your eyes at the feeling letting another tear fall down your cheek. Haechan finally took his hand off your mouth trying to catch his breath.

He unlocked his phone showing you to your face that the videos are gone. Deleting all three. You still sat there cheeks puffy and eyes swollen red from all your crying. Haechan wiped your face and kissed your cheeks.

“You don’t have to worry anymore okay? it’s all done” you gave him a nod getting off to clean yourself up before heading home. You couldn't wait to be back in Jake’s arms again.

When you left his apartment haechan promised not to contact you. Apologizing for bothering you in the first place again. You felt pretty good about it this time not feeling the need to block him on anything.

Haechan reached behind his flower pot, stopping the video he recorded. He smiled to himself when he hit play hearing your sobs and pleads. God it was good enough to get him hard again but not tonight. He uploaded the video to his laptop adding to a folder labeled ‘y/n’ where he kept all videos and pictures of you over the past two years. He walked up to his calendar lifting up the page to October. Circling October 21st. That’s when he’ll text you again with another video, surprise. He couldn’t believe how easy this was again.

He finally had your trust back.

[novemberheart]

{overview} A doctor mistakes you for something you're not

{warning} fem reader, a/b/o dynamics, poly 141, panicking, MDNI mentions of masturbation towards the end

Chapter 16 <- Chapter 17 -> Chapter 18

Priya was waiting for you when you got to the bottom floor the next day. When you woke up that morning the last thing you wanted to do was get out of bed. You had slept in Johnny’s bed, well not really slept. You drifted in and out waking up every half hour from some creak in the floor, or the sound of the refrigerator making ice. When the sun started to come up you finally felt comfortable to sleep- that was cut short by your alarm.

“I know it might not sound fun, but it is,” she smiled. It felt wrong going someplace without Anais. You pushed that thought away. Surely she does things with Jane and her other friends.

The walk was nice. The weather was starting to heat up for the start of summer. You were mostly excited to tease your pack with your summer dresses.

The thought sends a pang through your heart. God you missed them.

The rec room was nice and nearly empty. A few older doctors seemed to be taking their breaks in there, playing a round of ping pong. You and Priya settled on checkers.

You had grown bored after the third round, even though you had won two of them. Priya was still invested, making the game drag on for another five rounds. She won most of them.

“Hungry?” you asked, already standing up to push your chair in. Your lower half had grown numb, the tingling verging on painful as you began to walk around the room.

“There's a vending machine in the hall,” she stood as well. Luckily your pack had left you with some money.

“What are you thinking about?” Priya asked, making you jump.

“Just miss my pack,” you sighed.

“Mmmm. I remember those days. You'll get used to it and then pretty soon you'll be wishing for some space,” she chuckled.

You couldn't imagine wanting space from them. Especially when they seemed so far away.

You bought a bag of chips- or crisps as your pack would say.

“I'm going to run to the bathroom quickly,” Priya excused herself, dodging away before you could say anything. You shrugged plopping down in a hard blue chair. This reminded you of when Simon was in the hospital. His hazel eyes droopy from all the medicine in his system. You wished you committed them to memory more, now all you got were his sharp calculating eyes.

“There you are! Come, you are needed in room B17,” a doctor- seemingly appeared out of nowhere. He reached down grabbing your arm, pulling you up from your chair. “You omegas are always taking breaks,” he growled, pulling you along. Your phone slipped out of your pocket, clattering against the tile.

“No! I'm here with a friend I'm not here to”-

“Keep your bloody voice down. People are trying to sleep,” he chided. You wondered why he was so angry. It made your stomach twist in knots, your throat running dry.

“Stop,” you growled back, pulling yourself away.

“I’ll report you if you don't knock it off. Damn holding houses always sends the difficult ones,” his grip on you was tight, too tight. You will undoubtedly have bruises tomorrow. Everyone seemed to disappear as you were tugged along the seemingly never-ending hallway.

‘Just remain calm. This is just a misunderstanding.’ you told yourself.

“Sir, stop. This is a mistake. I have my own pack here on base, you need to let me go,” you tried your hardest to keep your voice calm. He didn't seem to be listening. He opened a door and pushed you inside. “I’m not here as a healer,” you insisted.

“Stop your whining and get on with your job. You all get sent out here and then come up with every excuse to not have to do anything. I saw you playing checkers,” he spat. “This isn't a vacation.” he began to shut the door, your hands reaching forward to keep it from shutting. You quickly lost. The door locking into place. What kind of place has locks on the outside of the door?

“Fuckfuckfuck,” you repeated, surveying the room you were tossed into. There were two large men hooked up to various machines. You knew what you were sent in here to do. The same reason you were sent here for Simon. One man was sleeping peacefully and you couldn't quite grasp what was wrong with him. The other man had been beaten to a pulp. His face was black and purple. You couldn't bear to look at him for more than a few seconds. You approached the other bed cautiously, looking for a call button on the side of the bed. You found it, digging your thumb into it like your life depended. It very well may.

After a minute of pressing no response.

Two minutes passed, your eyes trained on the clock above the door.

“You,” a low voice from the other bed alerted you. Your blood ran cold. Your eyes quickly fled to the bed, you couldn't tell if his eyes were open or not. “Don't hurt me anymore. I payed enough.” your brows furrowed before the realization hit you like a bolt of lightning.

It was him. One of the men who attacked you. The one who pulled the other one away.

The one that was missing.

You backed up heading towards the door. You needed out. You needed out right now.

“I only did it because Lieutenant Hale asked me to. We weren't going to hurt you,” the man practically whimpered.

“What did Hale want?” you questioned, trying to hold steady.

“I don't know. I didn't know who you were when he asked me to get you. He just gave me a description of what you smelled like. I didn't even know you were 141 till you turned around. I would've never done anything had I known,” he was shaking more than you at this point, his heart rate monitor going off the charts.

A sudden heat filled you. You couldn't tell if it was rage or fear but there was no stopping it.

“You shouldn't have done it anyways,” you snarled. You held all the power. You alphas had protected you. The evidence was right in front of your face. You were a part of their pack- it was time you started to act like it. “Fuckin disgusting,” you spat. You turned back around pounding on the door with all your might.

The door unlocked and you pushed it open before the person on the other end had time to think.

“Get back in there and stop”- it was the same doctor from earlier, his grip on your arms returning.

“I’m not a freelance omega,” you snarled. His eyes widened at your disrespect. “You know who my Alphas are? Captain John Price and Lieutenant Ghost. That ring a bell?”

It was cliche but the results were immediate. His hands left you, instead resting against the wall, the other one patting his chest.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I had no idea”-

“Instead of thinking you know everything, how about you listen to people. Especially omegas. We don't owe you anything and deserve to be treated with respect,” you chided. He quickly nodded his head, too panicked to disagree. “You put my life at risk.”

“You're absolutely right. I'll start”- you didn't wait for him to finish turning on your heels walking back down the hall, and grabbing your phone.

You breathed in the fresh air like you had been under dense smog for years. You leaned against the building, quickly texting Priya.

I'm outside by the door we came in. You aren't going to believe what happened

I went home! You disappeared… wanna hang out tomorrow?

You rolled your eyes, already heading back home.

You left her on read.

You slept peacefully that night.

Your phone ringing woke you up. Your heart pounded at the sound.

“Hello,” you answered quickly.

“Hey, peaches,” Johnny’s voice went in through your ears all the way down to your toes.

“Mac,” you whined.

“None of that,” he snipped gently. “I wake you up?”

“No,” you lied. “I am in your bed though,”

He groaned from the other end.

“What are you wearing?” he purred, making you giggle. You put on your best seductive voice.

“Nothing,” you whispered.

“You’re a new type of evil, hen,” he chuckled. “I miss you.”

“I miss you too,” you sighed. “Very much.”

“Alpha wants to talk to you. I'll see you soon, Bon,” Johnny ended. You heard a bit of shuffling your heart rate picking back up.

“How you doin’ pretty girl?” the muscles in your body went lax at the sound of John’s voice. He'd only been gone for about four days and you had already forgotten the effect his voice had on you.

“John,” you breathed into the phone. “I miss you.”

He sighed heavily into the phone- bordering on a growl.

“We’ll be back in three days, pretty. Finishing up here early. Then we’ll be all yours, okay?” he eased.

“Okay,” you agreed. Your head felt light. If this was how you felt now you could only imagine how bad it would be when you were finally marked. “Be safe.”

“Always.” he lied, hanging up.

You stretched out under the covers. Your body was warm and tingly, with a tight constriction in your lower abdomen.

You don't get “excited” often. Unless it’s your heat of course. You had little to no interactions with suitors, only being constantly surrounded by your peers. When you were around “potential” mates you never felt much desire towards them.

Your pack changed that.

You've suddenly found yourself in a puddle most of the time, your thighs clenching at the most inopportune times. Kyle and his feathery touches, the way his lips always skimmed your neck when he would whisper to you late at night. Johnny and the way his hands seemed to be permanently glued to your hips, squeezing your soft flesh. The way John’s beard scraped against your cheek or your lips. It was easy to imagine what it felt like against your thighs. Then there was Simon. He wasn't incredibly physical with you, but that left even more to the imagination.

You groaned, rolling over onto your back.

You did have the place to yourself. Your finger danced across your stomach, trying to imagine they were Kyle's instead. You slowly slipped them under the waistband of your underwear, moving to where you felt it should go.

You were pathetic. You hardly even knew how to touch yourself.

A few minutes later you had dried up, frustration the only thing on your mind. You growled rolling back over to bury your face into Johnny’s pillows.

Maybe when your pack got back they could help you with your problem.

Hi friends! Short chapter today! I'll see you in two days for chapter 18! The boys come back! 🧡 I wonder how they’ll react to your little run-in with the doctor……

[sophiethewitch1]

What We Want - Chpt. 3 - Dreams And...

In Which A Romantic Breaks The Universe

(Yandere!batboys x f!reader) 18+ MDNI!

SUMMARY

Another lonely birthday, another empty year. You miss your family. You're late for your bills and rent, and even then, you got robbed last Tuesday.

Still, you buy yourself a cupcake, because you need it. I mean, hey. What's dessert for if not to get over cheating boyfriends and dead relatives?

As you blow out the candle, watching the clock switch from 11:59 pm to midnight of the next day, you make a wish.

And because the world doesn't like to make much sense, it comes true. Your life is suddenly flipped on a dime, and you're stuck trying to catch up with it. Fantasy becomes reality. You're a Wayne now, apparently. Or you used to be. You're loved, you're rich, you're talented and powerful.

Well, sort of. Careful what you wish for, right?

(TRIGGER WARNINGS AND MASTERLIST HERE) - PLEASE REMEMBER TO CHECK, THIS CHAPTER IS DARKER IN TONE!

PREV - NEXT

Your hands are pruned. It’s quiet in the extravagant bathroom, other than the sound of the tap’s running water and your own shaky breathing. This was all a bit much. Your hands are more than clean now, but you absolutely do not want to go back out there.

You kind of just want to go back into one of the stalls and cry. A core girlhood experience, except you were an adult with a job and taxes. Or, you were. You think you’re some rich scion or something in this dream. Which like, cool, who wants to slave under capitalism anyways?

…You wonder if anyone would notice if you slipped out the window. You’d been gone for a while and nobody had come looking for you, since you’d totally gotten lost trying to find the bathroom. Sure, you were on the third floor, but at this point you were willing to risk it. Even if you couldn’t walk in a straight line right now, much less climb the trellises. For some reason, you could not handle your liquor today like you usually could. But once again, this was all just a very vivid dream, so it wasn’t like you could die.

To punctuate that thought, you hear someone scream.

It cuts off instantly, and then there’s quiet again. You pause, then turn off the tap, listening for any more sound. Drip, drip, drip… you press the tap down again and properly turn it off. Still no noise. Immediately, you realise you are standing directly in a horror film. You live in Gotham for fuck’s sake. It wasn’t an unlikely occurrence. You’d gotten mugged just a few days ago.

And you were alone in the bathrooms. So unbelievably drunk, and alone in the bathrooms. You were actually so dead, it was crazy. A dream, a dream…!

Your head bows, staring into the white porcelain of the sink as you focus hard on your hearing. You don’t think you could hear the party before, but you’re not sure. It’s definitely not there now. You swallow the dry pain in your throat, trying to summon a modicum of courage. Your vision spins.

You slap your wet hands to your face and then blink through your fingers. God. Okay, okay, okay. You can do this. You survived a mugging just last week with only minimal bruising. To convince yourself of your badassery, you dig your fingers into the blemishes, hoping to wake yourself up with the pain. It’s a bad habit but you have lots of those.

…Where’s the pain? Oh god, where’s the pain? Wait, don’t panic, it’s a dream! Of course, you wouldn’t have your bruises in a dream. That made total sense. And you definitely weren’t panicking.

You splash more water on your face. Time to face the music, you drunken moron. If you were going to be in a horror movie, you’d be the final girl of all final girls.

One hand on the sink, you take your heels off. They’re going to get in the way, and the sound of them clicking against the marble will give away your location. Massaging your sore ankles, you try and come up with a game plan. You don’t know what’s going on, and it really could all just be a false alarm, but better safe than sorry and all that. It’s a gala full of some of the richest people on earth, and you’re pretty sure you saw a swat team of security guards at the entrance.

So this was probably a hostage situation or a villain attack. You’d hear more noise if it was a supervillain fighting a superhero downstairs. Then you’ll bet on a hostage situation for now. Depending on who had taken you all hostage, that could be a totally fine situation where you all just end up leaving with lighter purses, or it could be the Scarecrow’s shown up and he’s about to mentally traumatise you. Like you needed any more of that.

Of course, this was all probably still a dream. Maybe if you say it enough times you’ll actually believe it. You’ll just plan ahead in case this is real (which it definitely isn’t). Plus you’d proven you could feel pain in this dream anyway, with all the times you’d slapped yourself. You hoped the fucking Tim Drake didn’t think you were too weird. Because he definitely thought you were weird.

It’s cool. You’re cool. You could handle this. You were a Gotham native after all. Totally cool. You have to force yourself not to gag on your own fear. Totally, absolutely, terrifically cool.

A few deep, calming breaths later, and you’re cracking the door of the lavatory open just an inch. You peer through the crevice, taking another deep breath when you don’t see anyone in the hallway. You push the door open a bit wider, peek your head around it to look the other way. Still empty. Another deep breath, you feel your chest rise and fall, and then you take the first step out onto the wooden floors. You wince at the slight noise the bare sole of your foot makes and hurry over to the long Persian rug to snuffle any more sounds.

And then you’re standing in the middle of the hallway in your ballgown, head swivelling back and forth as you try and catch any minuscule sounds, shoulders bunched up to your ears.

The first thing you need to check is the exits. Since you are on the third floor, and the banquet was on the first, you can assume that they’re well-guarded, but probably far away from you. Still, this is the Wayne Enterprises Tower, and there wasn’t just the party happening tonight. It was mostly empty as you’d seen but there’d been a few people you’d wandered past. They’d all seemed like late-night office workers, and the female janitor you’d bumped into was the one who had told you where the toilet was.

Was the janitor okay? Was that her scream you’d heard? Concentrate, dumbass. On airplanes, they tell you to put your mask on first before you do it for anyone else. The idea was the same here. Save yourself before you can hope to save anyone else.

That was… that was if you even needed saving. This could all still just be your own paranoia. Someone hit their knee on a ridiculously fancy side table or something. Like that scream wasn’t of pure terror. Like it didn’t sound like someone on death’s door.

Concentrate! Okay, check the stairs first. Don’t take the elevator, because you’re not an idiot. Maybe. Hopefully. Slowly but surely you creep your way back towards the entrance to the third level, where both the elevator and the stairs were. There was a map, too. You hadn’t been able to figure it out earlier, but you had a bit more incentive this time.

You make sure to place your feet carefully, aiming for the carpets and rugs. Even if your drunken steps miss half the time, you’re still mostly quiet. Every time you have to walk across a crossing you spend a minute listening, and then peer around every corner too. You’re not sure if you should be running, or if you really should try one of the windows.

Deep breaths. Keep moving. That’s the best course of action. Don’t get caught, but don’t just hide either.

It’s when you’re almost at the third-floor foyer when you hear something. There’s a crash, the sound of something breaking. No voices, though. Still, you can’t convince your body to move for a full minute. There’s a part of you that wants to go hide in an abandoned cubicle and wait, but there’s another part of you that is very aware of the rates of fires in this city. You keep going, taking a longer route to avoid the source of the crashing.

Another noise. A scream. Laughter. Spine-chilling laughter.

Shit, motherfucker. Why the hell did you get smashed at a fucking Wayne gala? Everybody knew the rogues of this city were totally obsessively in love with Bruce Wayne. Especially your own personal worst nightmare. You don’t dare even think his name, lest you summon the bastard.

Was he in Arkham right now? He should be. Like you should be at home in the Narrows getting a good night’s rest. Like you should be wearing dorky Flash pyjamas, not a dress more expensive than your rent.

He should be. It’s not nearly enough.

You realise, suddenly, that you have to make a choice here. You can walk away, pretend you didn’t hear anything, that you can’t hear anything. A woman’s cries, you think. You could leave her, save yourself. Hideaway and let whatever fate she’s facing befall her. Could you do that? Could you even stomach the idea?

In the end, the universe makes the decision for you.

“And who do we have here? What’s a pretty little thing like you doing wandering around?”

You hear your doom in his slimy voice, even though you didn’t hear him sneak up on you. Shaking, you raise your hands into the air, and slowly turn around. You see your doom in the twisted clown mask’s grin. For a second you think it’s really him, but then you notice his dark brown hair and the tanned skin under the mask. God, god, god. It’s a Joker goon. Your literal worst nightmare, given flesh. Is he here? No, no, no- You swallow down the urge to scream, to run, and do your best to keep thinking like a person and not a prey animal.

You feel like one. You think he knows that. You hope he doesn’t.

“Hey Travis, I found another one!” the man calls out, raising his gun to point at you. He jerks it, moving forward, and you turn back around obediently. The gun presses against the back of your head, and you move forward, obediently.

“Shithead, don’t say my name out loud!” another voice replies. You get to see its owner when you come around the corner and find the foyer.

There are five other people here, all tied up. Four seem to be exhausted office worker bees, who just stayed too late on the wrong day, and the last is the janitor who helped you. The kind lady gives you terrified eyes, but she’s the only one not crying among the hostages.

“Man, you worry too much. Like there aren’t hundreds of Travis’s in the city.”

“Just shut up, my god! If we leak info and it gets traced back to us, he’s docking our pay.”

Who’s he? Who’s fucking he?! He can’t be here, right? He fucking can’t be. You can’t, you can’t. God, you're going to vomit right here and now.

“Whatever. Anyway, this is the last person on this floor.”

“Check the feed again, dickhead,” the second one commands, obviously the leader between the two.

The one who caught you groans, and then you hear the sound of fabric shuffling. Is he looking at his phone? You wish you could turn around and look. You don’t dare with the barrel against you.

Your teeth dig into the side of your mouth. So did they have the security feeds? That meant you were doomed from the start. The only other option would’ve been to actually jump out one of the windows. They would’ve probably found you anyway. Hunted you down to meet their quota.

Shit. Shit. Shit, shit, shit. This is looking like a big deal. And everybody knew Joker never left out on his big deal jobs, he enjoyed them too much. He’s probably downstairs demanding the Batman come meet him and have tea or something. Shit.

All of a sudden these goons seem like the much better end of the deal.

“Checked, checked, double-checked, triple-checked… There’s nobody else here,” the man behind you grumbles, and the one in front of you sighs.

“Alright, alright. Bring her over, I’ll tie her up, and then we can blow this joint,” the man says, and you really, really hope he’s not being serious about blowing this place. You’d had enough of explosions, thank you very much. Especially ones organised by the Joker.

The gun digs harshly into your skull, “Well, go on.”

Swallow, swallow down your fear. Don’t let it stop you. You walk forward to the other man, arms in the air shaking. When you’re in reaching distance, the second goon roughly grabs you and shoves you to your knees. He pushes your hands in front of you, not bothering to tie them behind you. You don’t know if that’s a good thing or not.

The rope cuts into your skin. It’s going to leave marks, and bruises. The man finishes tying the knot and then pulls you back to your feet. Then he shoves you towards the elevator and turns to start picking up the other hostages. You turn so your back is toward the wall, not willing to have your eyes off the monsters for even a second.

It’s when he’s pushing one of the office workers towards you, that the second man speaks again.

“Hey, the boss said we had to kill one of ‘em.”

What? What did he say?

“Oh yeah, oops.”

The gunshot goes off before you can process the words. Before you can process the gunshot, the janitor’s body is crumpling to the floor. Before you can process her fall, blood is starting to seep from the wound in her chest. Before you can process any of that, the man behind you laughs.

He laughs. He laughs and laughs and laughs.

The janitor lies on the floor, blood seeping into her hair and uniform. You squeeze your eyes tight, tears slipping over the lids. You refuse to look at the wound. At the gaping hole in her chest. And despite yourself, you know why they shot her, not you. Not any of the workers either.

Because she wasn’t worth the cash.

Yesterday, that would’ve been you on the floor. You were a fake wearing a fancy dress, who didn’t belong here at all. Still, they didn’t know that. You didn’t think anybody knew that. Not anyone but you, who had woken up in a world a little to the left.

“I’ll be down in a minute, Trav. I wanna play with this one for a bit,” the shooter says, and all of a sudden you’re thrown back into your body, into your frail mortality. You’re cold, your spine gives a shiver, and your horrified eyes find the wretched clown mask.

Like you said, your doom. You wish you weren’t right all the time.

“No way. She’s one of the high-profilers, we need her,” his leader replies, and you’re desperate to stick by his side. You didn’t think a Joker goon would be your saviour, but here you were.

“I’ll give you five K of my split,” he offers, not willing to let go of it. Of you.

The other one pauses, glances at you assessingly. There’s a glint of something in his eyes, something that tells you you’re not making it out of here unscathed. It’s something you recognise, something you even recognise inside yourself.

It’s greed. And it’s going to kill you. You always knew it would, you just didn’t think it’d be like this.

“Make it seven,” he finally announces, the deal for your soul made without any fuss or fanfare.

“You’re such a hardass. Fine, fine, seven it is.”

“Alright, and only thirty minutes, tops. Not a hair on her head, you understand me?” he says over his shoulder, waggling a finger at his coworker.

The group leaves through the elevator. It dings, and you watch in mute, stunned horror as the other hostages refuse to meet your gaze. As they abandon you to save their own asses. You couldn’t really blame them, as much as you wanted to. You were ready to do the same earlier.

“I think not even a hair is pushing it, right?” the creep says, finger reaching out for said hair. You jerk back out of his reach, an instinctual flinch. He grins, and lets his hand fall back to his side. You take a shaky step backward.

You’re trembling with fear. With the need to get away from this terror, this situation.

He gestures with his gun, pointing back in the direction of the branching hallways.

“Well, go on. Run.”

And God help you, you do.

Spinning on your heel, you flee to the echoing sound of his laughter. Your feet fall rhythmically against the marble floors, the sound of your bare soles far too loud. You can’t even do anything about it. There’s no option for stealth here, only the sort of hunt you’d expect to find in the woods.

Not here in civilised mankind’s territory. But this was Gotham, and the monsters often looked human.

You dart into a large room filled with tiny square cubicles. A call centre or something, a maze of low walls that are too small to hide behind. You keep going, teeth-gritting when his laughter cuts off. He’s taking this seriously, hunting you down. You think he’s done this before. ‘Played’ with people.

You can’t worry about those other poor victims, lest you become his next one.

Another crash, this time to your left. Your head snaps to the side, eyes wide, but when you look there’s only a broken lamp on the floor. You have to swallow down the urge to cry. He is. He’s playing with you. He’s having fun with it.

You keep running, passing by halls and offices and don’t stop running till you can’t. Out of breath. You’re out of breath. You bend over, the stitch in your side too much for you to stand. Why are you out of breath? You can run more than this. You often run more than this when you’re late for your morning train.

What’s going on? What’s happening to you?

A bang, behind you. You spin around. Don’t see anything.

He’s nearby. Right under your nose. You need to keep running, you have to. Through your panting you hear his laughter again, and that’s enough fear to get you moving again. Maybe you were in Arkham, arms strapped to your side and screams wailing down the halls.

You didn’t believe it. No, not in this moment. Not right now, as you run for your life. If you lived through this, you’d probably go back to thinking it was all a dream or a delusion.

But with that monster nearby, there’s nothing this could be but real. With sweat dripping down your neck, smearing your makeup. With the feeling of your heart beating out of your chest, in your ears. With the blind, all-consuming panic you’re in.

He’s real. And he’s coming for you.

You lift your tied hands and press them to your lips, muffling the sound of your harsh breathing and soft sobs. Heart beating out of your ribcage, you push your body even as it screams for you to stop. You’re flagging. Vision’s swimming, and you can feel bile creeping up your throat. You can’t keep doing this. You need to keep doing this.

For a moment, you stop to catch your breath. And he catches you too.

You scream, tugging at the rough grip on him. He swings you around into a wall, and again, you cry out. Side throbbing with pain, singing with it. Still, you don’t stop. Can’t stop. Not safe, not safe, not safe. You push back against him, and he pushes back against you. Your drunken state is no match, and you tumble down onto the carpet. When he laughs, you look up at him, and he down at you.

The goon’s plastic mask merges with the Joker’s mutilated face, until you can’t tell the difference.

You aren’t the type to fight back. It’s just not instinctual to you. But when you hear his belt buckle clack, your foot kicks out before you can even think. You hit him squarely in the stomach, knocking him backward, and then you scramble away from underneath him.

“You bitch!”

He grabs you by the nape of your neck, yanking you backwards. You choke, hands grasping desperately at the grip around your throat, but he offers no relent. You’ve pissed him off. That doesn’t mean you can stop, can give up. You can’t stop fighting. Can’t stop struggling. Can’t stop, can’t stop, can’t stop-

The gun clicks. You freeze.

“Yeah, figured you’d be more obedient if I did that. Now, get up,” his voice is breathy, from the high of the chase or the hit you delivered, you’re not sure.

You hope it’s the latter. You hope this fucker drops and dies, right on the spot. You’re not that lucky, though.

Ah, your hands are hurting again. Not just the one, but both. Maybe you touched something. An allergic reaction of some sort. It shouldn’t be distracting you, it shouldn’t even be noticeable in the situation you’re in but god. The itchy heat is nearly as unbearable as the evil cretin in front of you.

“You think you’re gonna get away with that? I’m so fucking sick and tired of you whores who think you matter anything. You don’t, and I’m going to help you realise that,” he rants. His eyes are red through the tiny slits in the mask. Angry, dangerous, on the edge.

“Please, look I’m sorry,” you stutter out, stinging hands in the air. You want to run, but you think he’ll shoot if you do.

“You’re lucky I don’t fuck corpses.”

No, that doesn’t sound very lucky at all, actually. No, this seems like maybe it might turn out to be the new worst moment of your life. You don’t think it can get much worse than this, than the next moments that will pass. And it’s too much. It’s too, too much. Your palms are itchy and there’s a gun pointed between your eyes and the goon’s licking his lips and oh my god you’re going to die from an allergy before the bullet and-

And you just want it all to stop. You want it so desperately. You want the man in front of you to disappear, to never exist again, to go right down to hell where he belongs. You just want him gone.

Your hands stop hurting. The burning heat disappears. It’s quiet again. You can’t hear him laughing, the awful slick sound of him licking his lips. You can’t feel the cool iron on your forehead, the heat from his body so close. You can’t smell his sweaty stench. Your eyes open.

…There’s no gun. There’s no man.

You crumple to the ground with a relieved sob. Fisted hands lift to your eyes, as big blubbery tears stream down your face. Your shoulders shake with your cries. Your heart is screaming in your chest, trying to beat out of it. He’s gone, somehow. You’re alive, somehow. You’re not dead with a bullet in your brain, somehow. Somehow, somehow, somehow.

An impossibility. It’s an impossibility, and you’re so goddamn grateful for it.

As always, you don’t give yourself long to cry. Even as your tears still fall, even as you lick them off your mouth, tasting salt and lipstick and fear, you push to your feet shakily. You almost fall over with your hands still tied, shouldering the wall next to you for balance. You don’t have time to cry. No time to process what just happened. You need to get to safety.

You creep back into the main area, heart pounding in your ears, breath hiccuping. You don’t know how long it takes for you to get there. Ten minutes, thirty, maybe even an hour. When you try the staircase door, it doesn’t open. You yank on the handle, grab a chair and try and smash it in, but it stands strong. Fuck. You try the elevator as a last-ditch effort, but the buttons don’t respond.

You press your overheated forehead to the cool metal. Okay. Okay. Okay, okay, okay.

You turn around and storm back into the cubicle space, find one at the edge of the room with a clear view of all the doors, and tuck yourself under the desk. Pulling your knees to your chest, you resist the urge to rock yourself like a baby.

And you sit there, and you watch, and you wait. It doesn’t matter how many hours pass, you are not moving from this spot. It doesn’t matter how heavy your lids feel, how the adrenaline leaving your body has you sagging.

You’re not going to sleep. It’s not safe, and you’re not dying today. You’re simply not.\

You’re not allowed to.

-

A hand touches your shoulder, and you snap awake. Your fist slings out at the would-be attacker, but they dodge it smoothly. When you rear up for another, they move back, hands in the air in a show of surrender. Panting, you don’t lower the fist, your vision swimming.

It’s the Joker. But the Joker wouldn’t back up, right? And the Joker isn’t red, he’s green and purple.

It takes a while for the Joker’s pale, laughing face to disappear. But when you blink and he’s gone, you find someone else underneath. A red mask, a man you think you recognise from TV. A vigilante. God, you hated the vigilantes in Gotham.

Not more than the Joker. Not more than him.

The man stays a safe distance away, gloved hands firmly in the air. He’s tall, really tall. Broad-shouldered, scary. But he’s a vigilante, right?

Is he here to save you? Someone should've by now. The bastard's late then.

He says your name, you think. You can’t hear him properly. Wait no, it’s a nickname, one you haven’t heard in years. You could barely remember your mother calling you that as she tucked you in, as she told you she loved you over the phone, as she disappeared from the world entirely.

You hadn’t let anyone call you that since.

How does he know that name? How does this bastard know your name?

“-hurt? Hey, hey. Listen to me, are you hurt anywhere?” his voice is deep and warbled through the red metal mask, his eyes peering down at you through his domino. You just stare at him, eyes wide, barely breathing.

You need to know how he knows. Unconsciously, your hand reaches up to him, and after a moment, he takes it in his own firm grip. It’s awkward, as you’re still sitting half under the desk and he’s trying to stay as far away from you as possible. Still, his hand is warm through the leather, grounding, keeping you from drifting off into panic and fear. Into your worst nightmares come to life.

Because this was real. It didn’t matter that it was impossible, it was real. You simply couldn’t deny it any longer, this was all real.

You stare at this stranger’s gloved hand like it holds the answers to the universe. It might, in the end. It really just might. It wasn’t like the universe was making much sense at the moment.

“She seems fine. Uninjured, if a bit shocked. Doesn’t seem to have a concussion. Hardly responding anyway,” Red Hood speaks, but not to you. An earbud, you think. Superheroes used wiretaps and things like that all the time, right?

If you could even consider Red Hood a superhero. Everybody knew he had his own gang. Of course, even as your very life is being saved, it’s by a morally grey hero who runs around with crowbars and guns. Ah, you’re crying again.

You told yourself a long time ago that you wouldn’t let yourself cry anymore. And you’d managed it, mostly. You think you’ll give yourself a pass for today, just a little one. You hold this stranger’s hand, and you cry.

You just cry. You cry, and you hold the hand of some stranger you hate, because you have to.

MASTERLIST - NEXT

[upsidedownwithsteve]

A soulmate AU: Steve Harrington x fem!reader [3.7K]

THE TIMELINE

"There was something 'bout you that now I can't remember, It's the same damn thing that made my heart surrender. And I miss you on a train, I miss you in the morning, I never know what to think about. I think about you."

- About You By The 1975

V. HAWKINS, INDIANA: 1988

Two years had passed since the last gate had closed and despite the aftermath of the “earthquakes,” Vecna had yet to make any sort of reappearance. 

Max’s bones healed, eventually, and she regained most of her sight, relying on thick lensed glasses when she grew tired or the words in her books turned blurry. Nancy went to college, Jonathan tried it for a year, Hopper took El on a month-long camping trip to see something other than the town repairing itself and Lucas went to therapy. 

Soon, each kid followed suit, attending sessions that eventually helped them sleep a little better because even though they couldn’t tell the person on the other side of the coffee table about monsters and the world under their feet, there had been enough death and suffering to fill the hour with regardless. 

Dustin told Steve he should go too and Robin agreed. After Eddie’s funeral, the one where they all stood with Wayne, a guy from the garage Eddie worked at on weekends and the remaining Hellfire members beside a small gravestone, they had another one. 

A second ceremony near the woods behind Eddie’s trailer, close to where he died, to where Dustin had found him bleeding and proud. The kids cried and Joyce held on tight to Will while Jonathan hugged Nancy and Dustin punched a tree trunk. It felt better than the first one, easier somehow, when they didn’t have to lie and hide the guilt they had at knowing each and every one of them felt a little shame in having a hand in someone’s else’s death. 

But it was closure. 

The town healed, roads were repaired, houses rebuilt, new flowers planted in the park in memory of those who had been lost in the accident - the natural disaster that made headlines, the one that no one could have predicted. 

Steve helped Dustin clean Eddie’s grave when the spray paint covered the dead boy’s name. Robin stopped crying when she looked in the mirror each morning. Jonathan left his room. 

The kids got better. They smiled more, went to the new arcade on opening day, shared slushies and rode their bikes around town again. Joyce visited Wayne when she could, took him pies and meatloaf and eventually got him out of his armchair and into a coffee shop for a full hour. Hopper got his job back, had a ceremony that preceded the funeral he had years before and Robin managed to get her and Steve a sweet gig at the record store that replaced Family Video. 

It felt fresh. New. Clean. 

So why was Steve still dreaming about gates?

For the third night in a row, he woke up gasping. A yell stuck in his throat that tasted like metal, like blood, and he was drenched. Shirtless, his sheets stuck to his chest, the weight of them tangled around his legs in a sickly familiar way, vines tugging at his ankles. His room was dark, the house empty, too quiet. Quiet enough that his breath ripped from his lungs in harsh pants, his head pounding from the exertion of running in his dream, back in a place that he hadn’t seen in almost twenty one months. 

At first, he dreamt of death. 

Of Eddie and how they found him lifeless and in Dustin’s arms. How Max was barely conscious in the attic of the Creel House, her body broken in ways that no doctor could understand. He dreamt of how he had pulled Lucas away from her, the boy sobbing and yelling, fighting with more strength than he knew he had as Steve tried to restrain him just enough for the paramedics to get Max into the ambulance. 

Then the dreams turned empty. He dreamt of losing everyone, Robin, Dustin, Hop. El was gone, Will too, Mike nowhere to be found. Nancy’s house was empty, Joyce and Jonathan didn’t exist and Steve sat alone in a town that turned grey, crumbling to dust until the vines came back and the clouds turned red. 

He ran miles every night, searching for his friends, his family. Woke up to shaking breaths and sore legs like he’d really sprinted across a town that was no longer home and each morning when the sun rose, he sat with a coffee and his bare legs dipped in the pool in his backyard. He stared at the water until the ripples blurred and wondered how long it would take for Barb to come haunt him too, if she’d reappear in his dreams despite the years that had gone by, if she’d come crawling back out of his pool like she used to, dripping wet and with no eyes. 

But Barb never came and he stopped dreaming of the kids, stopped hearing Lucas’ screams, stopped seeing Max in a hospital bed with blood coming from her eyes and eventually, one night, he dreamt of a gate that he’d never seen before. 

It didn’t even really look like a gate. 

Not the ones Steve knew. It wasn’t framed by dead vines, it didn’t pulsate, it didn’t have a red glow coming from its innards. This one didn’t look like rotting flesh, like a wound in the earth that couldn’t be healed. This one wasn’t at the bottom of a lake, lined with wet moss and cracked rocks, it wasn’t in the Munson trailer nor in the middle of the woods. 

This one opened on a blank wall in Steve’s bedroom, replacing the shelves where his old basketball trophies sat, where he usually left his pile of clothes before falling into bed. In the dream, it started as a crack, a crumbling of plaster and blue plaid wallpaper and Steve watched it open, a yawning thing that split the room and bathed it in light. It was too bright at first, like blinking into a summer sun. And once the white-hot of it cleared from Steve’s eyes, he saw blue skies and he could smell the ocean. 

There were trees he’d never seen before in real life, something out of a movie, tall and green and narrow as they swayed in a breeze he couldn’t really feel from his spot on his bedroom carpet. The buildings were a pinky-peach colour, like clay, with orange slate tiles and there were foundations and statues carved into the walls, water trickling from the mouths of gods and vases that stone faced women held in their marble arms. 

It was like looking at a painting, a canvas between his bed and his old desk, framed with olive branches and large, red fruits that protruded from the gates mouth. 

Pomegranates. 

Steve could smell them, a sweetness that mixed with the ocean air, a kind of freshness that you couldn’t find between the fields and farms that surrounded Hawkins. In the dream, he wanted to move closer but found that he couldn’t, his eyes wide and his bare feet rooted to the spot as he stared at the scene. It felt like a memory the more he looked, the buildings becoming familiar, a baby blue door that looked like somewhere he’d once owned the keys to and the cobbled streets became a well walked way home. 

Then, as if he weren’t supposed to really see it, he spotted something move in an upstairs window. Two houses from the front of the gate, with rusted shutters and white linen curtains, he saw a girl stand between them. 

A pretty girl, with eyes he knew he’d seen before, in a white dress that he was sure he remembered the feeling of. 

The sight of her made Steve’s heart hammer, the dream making him dizzy, the realisation that he knew that girl making the line between unconsciousness and reality a little blurry. He didn’t know her name, or where he knew her from. He didn’t even know where he was looking or why the gate was there. 

But he stared and stared until the girls eyes met his and before he could lift his hand, or even try to speak, there was a crack that seemingly came from the sky - the one above Hawkins or the one inside the gate, he didn’t know - but something flashed, the gate went dark and the rip in his bedroom wall stitched itself back up. 

He woke up feeling like he’d remembered and forgotten something all at once. Like a book he’d read back in middle school, a photo he’d once misplaced, a song he hadn’t heard in years but still remebered some of the words too. 

He knew her. He knew her. 

Steve thought about the girl so much, so often, that it didn’t take him long to think of her, to refer to her, as you. You were someone he’d once known, from a memory or another dream, he wasn't sure. It was the same feeling as watching a movie and seeing a pretty actress on screen, in a different outfit with different hair but knowing her face and wondering what show he’d seen her in before. 

Except with this, there was an aching want that buried itself in his chest at the sight of you, an awful feeling that grew larger each night. And every time his wall cracked open again, it seemed like his ribs did too. A crushing feeling, a yawning expanse inside his body that made room for the way his heart seemed to grow and grow at the sight of you. 

Yearning, that’s what he thought it was. A slow, burning build of it. 

The second night, he dreamt of you in a garden. A sprawling, green lawn with a pond so green-blue it made his eyes hurt. There was an awning beside it, a pergola of sorts made of white stone and it had ivy growing between the pillars, covering the roof and reaching down to trail its flowers in the water below. You were closer than before, than you were in the window, and Steve could see the way your lashes hit your cheeks as you looked down, stitching something that you held in your lap. 

There was a wicker basket beside you, a loaf of fresh bread wrapped in a cloth and he could still smell pomegranates, sweet and tart. There was a space beside you on the blanket, enough room for two but no one else came. 

You were always alone. 

Steve tried to talk to you, to reach out and see if this gate worked like the others, if he could walk through into this other world, this other dimension, but it didn’t work. 

Not yet, anyway. 

You seemed to notice him more on the fifth night, as he watched you walk along the edge of a lake. Your hair was shorter now and your clothes had changed. They look more modern, more like his, the cabins behind you reminiscent of a summer camp, a holiday lodge or something. He could hear music, a song he swore he heard on the radio not too long ago and that night, you watched him back. 

It seemed like you were waiting for someone. And when Steve saw your face light up with a smile, his heart stumbled. You raised your arm, reaching out a hand to the edge of the gate, off to the side as if someone else was in Steve’s walls. He saw another hand reach for yours, larger, definitely male, with a freckle where the thumb joined the palm. 

The jealousy he felt was unmatched, a burning thing that scorched his chest and his throat, hot needles at the back of his mouth. Before the man came into view, the crack in his wall trembled and the gate stitched itself closed once more, leaving plaster dust and flakes of paint on his carpet. 

Apart from the small mess, no one would have ever guessed another world opened up inside of Steve Harrington’s bedroom each night. 

It took him a week and half to notice his hand had a freckle in the same spot. A small beauty mark he’d never really paid attention to before, painted in the space that joined his thumb to his hand. He tried not to read too much into it, tried not to hold onto the hope that maybe it meant something - because none of this made sense, not really. 

They were just dreams. Strange things, brain scrambling things. But it was a welcome reprieve from death and darkness and vines that held onto him too tight. He no longer woke up in a cold sweat, he no longer wished for morning to come, no matter how tired he felt when he opened his eyes. 

Steve wondered if anyone else was experiencing these kinds of dreams. If the rest of the party were getting glimpses of other worlds, other timelines. He wasn’t sure what they were, too scared to ask, too afraid to make everyone else worry. The thought that these dreams could be a trick crossed his mind more than once, a new tactic from Vecna, an infiltration of his sleep that was meant to lull him into some kind of false sense of security. 

Safety - an unknown feeling. 

But everyone else spent their days talking about school and their new bosses, the fair that was coming to town to celebrate the town hall finally being rebuilt. No one mentioned Vecna or dreams or gates or girls they knew from somewhere they couldn’t place. 

So Steve accepted the fact that whatever these dreams were - whatever they meant - they were just for him. Which meant that you were his too. 

Weeks went by with Steve viewing you from the split in his wall, sometimes hearing music, sometimes hearing your muffled voice. Never real words, never loud enough to hear and it didn’t seem like you could hear him either. But Steve watched, enraptured, following you around different parts of the world, new countries and scenes that he could never really place but, oh my god, each one felt like home with you in it. 

Then one night, he saw himself. 

He felt the surge of panic flood him even in his sleep, his body jolting against his bed as he saw the familiar face, staring back at him, nonplussed. He looked a little different, maybe older. His hair was shorter at the back, cropped closer to the nape of his neck but the biggest difference was how happy he looked. 

This Steve, the one in his dream, inside this gate - this Steve from another time, another life - he looked lighter. He didn’t have purple smudges under his eyes, no deep lines settling across his forehead from frowning so much. His clothes were different too, looser, less fitting, the colours more muted. He wore a pair of jeans that looked much more comfortable than his tight Levi’s, a soft burgundy sweater that had the sleeves rolled up. 

Steve didn’t recognise where this dream took place, but he knew it wasn’t Hawkins. America, yeah, the street signs and licence plates on the cars in the street giving that detail away, but he wasn’t too sure where. The buildings were bigger, shinier, more glass than brick but the skies were still blue and it looked peaceful, warm. 

Safe. 

Dream Steve strolled down the sidewalk with his hands in his pockets, looking back over his shoulder every now and then as if to make sure the real Steve was following him. He walked past storefronts and stopped to pet a dog, a golden retriever who was waiting for his owner outside of a bakery. When he came to a bookstore, Steve could see a large building in the distance, a huge billboard atop it that looked like it was advertising a new movie, or a show maybe. It didn’t have much details on it, no actors nor dates to tell what year this was supposed to be. 

Certainly not 1988. 

It only had lettering across it, big and bold and red against a pristine white background: “ANOTHER LIFE.”

The bell to the bookstore jingled and then Steve saw you. As pretty as you had been in every other gate, every other world, every other lifetime. Like a figurine inside a snow globe, like something from a fairytale. Steve had never seen you this close before. 

He watched your smile, the way it widened at the sight of his counterpart, this other version of him. You were so pretty that his breath got caught in his lungs, his sleeping body kicking out in shock when you lunged at the dream version of him, throwing your arms around his shoulders in greeting. 

Steve watched the two figures embrace on the street, he watched how this luckier man got to bring his hand to your cheek and hold to there to kiss, how his lips - Steve’s own lips - met your own and parted them, mouths melting together in something that was so much more than a quick hello. 

Steve didn’t have it in him to feel jealous then. He wasn’t sure if he was supposed to. He watched the hand that held your jaw, the thumb that caressed your cheekbone as you grinned into him, your own hands clutching his waist now. There was a freckle, the same as the one he had on his own hand, in the matching spot on yours. This Steve took that hand and kissed that very mark, smacking kisses across your palm and up your wrist until you were laughing, head thrown back, eyes bright. 

Steve hadn’t seen anything so happy. 

He woke up before the dream finished, before the gate closed. Steve woke up with tears stinging at the corners of his eyes, his vision blurry in the navy gloom of his bedroom. It wasn’t yet morning. There was no gate on his bedroom fall, no new city between the plaid striped wallpaper. 

He thought it could’ve been Chicago, maybe New York. Perhaps Philadelphia. 

He wondered if he left and went looking for that bookstore, that street, that billboard, he’d find you too. If he was supposed to, if you were real, if this life was all he was supposed to get. 

Something told him otherwise, that open crack inside his chest that made him ache for hours after he awoke. He never forgot about you during the day, each life he’d watched you live, how you had grown your hair out and then cut it, how you seemed to change your clothing depending on where you were, from old petticoats to jeans and shirts with logos on them he’d never seen before. 

Steve felt like he’d lived a thousand lives with you. 

He wasn’t sure what he had to do to get you in this one. 

After two weeks of dreaming of this life with you, one that he was so sure would happen, he spoke to Joyce. He waited until the kids dragged Hopper out into the yard to help them with some sort of rocket they wanted to make and he found her in the kitchen. It was the closest kind of feeling he had to home - bar from the sight of you, but he wasn’t really sure if that counted when he was asleep. 

So he tried to sound casual when he leaned over the Byers kitchen counter, elbows avoiding the jelly stains that Mike had left after making a sandwich, and asked, “hey, uh, do you believe in soulmates?”

Joyce blinked at him, flour and butter between her fingers as she tried to turn the page in her recipe book back to the instructions for apple pie. The book flopped shut when she let go, her hands reaching for a rag instead. Her eyes never left Steve’s. 

“Uh, well. I guess so,” she paused, head tilted to the side as she watched the younger man, how his cheeks turned pink and his gaze fell to the floor. “I haven’t thought about it all that much. Why’d you ask?”

Steve didn’t know what to say then. So he floundered, flushed in the face and nose scrunched as he ran his fingers through his hair too harshly, hoping that no one else walked in. What was he supposed to say? That he was dreaming of gates in his bedroom walls? But it was okay? ‘Cause these ones didn’t have monsters or creatures set out to kill him, no, these gates held something that he thought he’d once had, that they held something he was so sure he was supposed ot have again?

Maybe, just not in this life.

Maybe, this time, something was broken. Wires were crossed, cut, unravelled. Maybe the upside down messed up a timeline, maybe it ripped apart whatever plan it had originally laid out for Steve Harrington. 

He didn’t know. But he knew it sounded crazy, even in his head.

So he shrugged and said, “no reason.”

And then that night, after Joyce gave him funny looks over the dinner she served him and the rest of his friends, the kitchen table full, he went home and lay on his bed, hardly bothering to pull the sheets over his bare chest.

He counted his breaths, hoped for sleep and wished for you.

Like always, his room grew darker, his lids heavier and the crack in his bedroom wall crumbled and split until the dust settled and he saw your face. You were alone this time, pretty as ever and in the same looking city he’d last seen himself in. The skies were blue behind you, the buildings still tall and shiny looking, all glass window panes and metal framework. If he concentrated enough, he could smell summer.

Hot tarmac and sunscreen, fresh fruit from one of the stores behind you, tart lemons and freshly ground coffee. 

You were looking right at him and even in his sleep, Steve smiled. Your eyes were pretty, too pretty, the colour bright and your gaze excited as you gazed at him. Like you’d been waiting. You held out a hand, coaxing, kind, soft, patient. And for the first time, when Steve reached out too, his hand slipped through the gate. 

He was right, about the season, about it being summer. The air inside this world was warm on his skin, like the sun was on him despite being sprawled out in the blue gloom of his dark bedroom. It felt like a July morning, right before the heat hit. 

He was almost touching your fingers when he woke up alone again.

[justnatoka]

...and consequences

Poly! The Lost Boys x GN! Reader

Word count: 1.9k

Prompt: "You are all remarkably well behaved tonight. What did you do?"

Summary: The boys decide to take matters into their own hands.

Part 2/2

Previous Part

It’s been a few days since the boys came to the diner, and you started to get slightly anxious. Sure, it’s not like they visited you every night before, but based on how you had to part ways last time, you feared they weren’t coming back. Maybe they got tired of your manager’s bullshit and decided it just wasn’t worth it. Even though you thought you had something going on between you and them, maybe you were the only one who started developing feelings. When they didn’t show up on the third night either, you felt like they abandoned you. So you decided to keep your head down and distract yourself with the monotony of work.

There was just one problem. You still had to interact with your manager, which was a challenge given that he was the cause of all this. In the following days you made sure to make him wait a few seconds every time he called your name, always dragging your feet a bit when he gave you a new task to complete. It was childish, but it made you feel a bit better knowing that you caused him mild irritation all day. It’s not like he could do much about it, you still did your job right, completed everything he told you to. It was a small and pretty harmless way to show him your disdain.

At first you thought it was your actions that had him on edge, but after you witnessed him literally jump out of fright when a customer accidentally sneaked up on him to ask him a question, you knew it had to be something else. You noticed him eyeing the door all night, flinching every time the bell chimed above it. Not to mention how he got more and more nervous when closing time drew closer. You always left a few minutes before him, since it was his duty to lock up, and you could have sworn you saw his hand shake last night as he waved you goodnight.

Another peculiar thing was that he started to be nicer to you. Sure, he wasn’t exactly friendly, but it’s been days since he chastised you for something, and his backhanded comments had also stopped. You had no idea what was going on with him, but you weren’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth.

On a night exactly one week since the incident, the bell chimed like usual, and when you looked up to greet the new customer, your heart missed a beat. Paul and Marko was grinning at you from where they stood, the latter even waving enthusiastically, David and Dwayne behind them, all of them handsome as ever. You felt a bright smile grow on your face, and you couldn’t contain your excitement as you walked up to them.

“Well look who decided to finally show up,” you greeted them.

“Hi babe, did you miss us?” You felt something warm swell in your chest as Paul asked the same question he did last time.

“You know what, Paulie? I actually did miss you guys.” His eyes seemed to shine just a tad brighter. “Where have you been?”

They took their seat at their usual booth before David levelled you with a curious look.

“We had some pest problem that needed to be taken care of,” he answered, his word choice sounding strangely purposeful.

The four of them shared glances and smiles with each other, and now you were sure there was some hidden meaning that you weren’t privy to.

“How about you, sugar? Everything okay with work?” Marko asked casually, and for a second it seemed like all of them were awaiting your answer with bated breaths.

“Everything’s fine, the customers are mostly nice, and even my boss seemed to lay off his pestering lately. I have no idea what’s gotten into him,” you admitted. There was a noticeable shift in the air around them, as if some unseen tension dissolved all of a sudden.

But now that you mentioned him, you remembered that your manager must be fuming by now, staring daggers at your group. Looking over your shoulder, you were surprised when you didn’t see him anywhere. You shrugged it off and took their order. Going back to the kitchen, there was still no sight of him. It was odd, as he was usually watching them through the window in the kitchen door. While waiting for their food to be made, you noticed another curious thing. The boys were sitting neatly in their booth chatting, no bickering, no shouting, just acting like normal people.

Even after you brought out their food, they thanked you with bright smiles, no over the top flirting, and they ate without a fuss or without a single piece of fry going anywhere other than their mouth. It was too normal.

You stood behind the counter, chewing on your nail in contemplation. Something was up.  For one, you haven’t seen your manager since the boys came in, even though you were sure he was talking to a customer just before that. You didn’t even see him disappear into the back office, he was just gone. On the other hand, the boys were acting like your everyday mild mannered townsfolk who came in for a late night snack, which was the total opposite of their usual chaos. Some unseen connection gnawed at the back of your mind but you couldn’t quite put a finger on it.

In the end you couldn’t take it anymore, and seeing as there was no one to chastise you for it, you went over to chat.

"You are all remarkably well behaved tonight,” you eyed them suspiciously. “What did you do?”

“Nothing,” David answered nonchalantly. “We realized that we’ve been causing you a lot of trouble so we decided to play nice.” The innocent smile he gave you told you otherwise.

“Yeah, sure.”

Hearing the disbelief in your voice, Dwayne asked, “Is it so hard to believe that we can behave nice?”

“Honestly? Yes.”

Marko snorted but said nothing.

“Oh come on, dollface, we can be really nice if we want to,” Paul insisted. “You know, like helping old ladies cross the road and whatever shit people do.”

Marko almost choked on his milkshake at this point while you just stared at Paul with the most deadpan expression of your life.

Someone cleared their throat behind you, and as you turned around you saw your manager peeking out the kitchen door hesitantly. His gaze was flitting from you to behind you, his face suddenly going pale. When you looked back to the boys, you just barely caught something before they all smiled at you innocently. You told yourself that it was just the trick of the light that made it seem like their eyes shined yellow for a second.

“Yes?” you turned to your manager again.

“C-Can I talk to you for a second?” The stutter was new.

You furrowed your brows as you answered, “Sure.”

Following him into the kitchen, he stopped just on the other side of the door, sending nervous glances outside.

“Can you tell them that I learned my lesson and they can stop now?”

“What?”

“It’s all good, they can come in any time they want. I’ve been good, haven’t bothered anybody. Please, just tell them! I can’t take this anymore!”

He was getting agitated now, looking absolutely terrified. The puzzle pieces fell into place in your head. Glancing over to them through the window, it looked like the boys were looking at your interaction intently, but the second you turned to them, the same innocent smiles were suddenly on all their faces. Letting out a heavy sigh, you assured him that you will tell them everything he wanted you to, then marched out of there and over to their table.

“What did you do to the poor guy?”

“What do you mean, kitten? We did absolutely nothing,” David faked concern.

Looking at Dwayne, you knew you had no chance of getting anything out of him either, and even though Marko looked a bit antsy, a stare from David rendered him mute. So you turned to the weakest link in the group.

“Paul, darling, why don’t you tell me what happened?” Your voice was sickly sweet and he started to sweat.

“Nothing, like David said.” No pet name meant he was nervous. Good, you thought as you continued.

“Paulie,” you practically purred his name, and you saw him break in front of your eyes.

“We might have threatened him a bit,” he muttered under his breath, but you heard it nonetheless.

Your eyes almost fell out of your head as you stared at them.

“You WHAT?”

Paul shrunk under the extremely disappointed look David was sending him.

Seeing no point in denying it anymore, Marko jumped in. “He was treating you like shit, sugar, he hurt you. Were we supposed to just stand around and do nothing?”

“You sure as hell weren’t supposed to threaten him! What if he went to the police?”

“We made sure he wouldn’t,” David answered matter-of-factly, his tone casual but his gaze so cold it caused a chill to run down your spine. How can such a short sentence sound so sinister?

A big hand enveloped yours, and you turned to look into Dwayne’s deep, warm eyes.

“We didn’t want you to get hurt. We just wanted to help.”

Feeling your resolve crumble, you let out a dejected sigh. You gave his hand a little squeeze before looking over them with a much softer expression.

“Thank you for looking out for me, but you didn’t need to do all that. I don’t want you guys to get in trouble for me, it’s not worth it.”

“But you are worth it, babe,” Paul asserted, seemingly back to his normal self. “Besides, if we couldn’t come here anymore, we wouldn’t be able to see your beautiful face so often.”

A blush crept up your cheeks, but now you were smiling brightly.

“Jesus, Paulie, how can you turn everything into a flirty comment?” you chuckled.

“It’s my talent.” His grin was infectious.

“Okay, but promise me one thing. Let’s not resort to threats to solve our problems, alright?”

“Hey, I didn’t even break his nose,” Marko chimed in and you burst out laughing.

“You want me to give you a gold star?”

“I can think of a few things you could reward me with,” he winked, and everything was back as it should be.

The rest of the night was filled with jokes and laughter. David felt satisfied as he watched you interact with his brothers. You were good for them, he felt that the very first time you met. That’s why he promised himself to protect you. And for now, that meant protecting you from the truth.

You didn’t have to know about how they hunted down your manager when he was walking to his car in the empty parking lot after locking up the diner. You didn’t have to know how they cornered him, changing before his eyes and threatened him, leaving him with a reminder that the only reason they let him live is because it’s more convenient for you. But also making sure he knew that if he ever put his hands on you or treated you like shit ever again, they would find him. You didn’t have to know that they kept stalking him for a whole week, keeping him on edge, making sure he kept his promise. There were a lot of things you didn’t have to know yet. And maybe they will tell you all about it one day, but for now, they were satisfied with just spending these nights at the diner with you.

[mehiwilldoitlater]

Another Request ~

Macaque falls in love with Y/N? Maybe. It'd definitely be one-sided for sure.

Sorry, I'm just a sucker for the guy. Also, one-sided love is so fun to read. Loved the last request you answered psycho Macaque for the win.

- Phoenixeclipse-Lmkau 🩷

In front of him, two pieces of fabric. He pondered deeply, massaging his chin. Deep in his thoughts.

"Um, yes...yes, I see..." He esclaimed before throwing the two samples in the air. "They're the same color! I'm regretting helping you, Y/N!"

You laughed, putting on the small tablet the other samples of silk that the third and fifth sisters had brought for your dress. He collapsed on his back, in desperation, while you reached him, kneeling near him.

"I told you that it was a dirty job."

"Yeah, yeah, I know...butbi really wanted to help! As a future husband, it is my duty! And...for other reasons!"

"Other reasons?" You lay next to him, allowing him to take you in his arms, hugging you for comfort.

"Well, I can't see you in your dress, but I can imagine you!"

"Aaaw, aren't you the romantic one?" You said kissing his nose, which he enjoyed—maybe too much.

He guided you to his lips, depending on the kiss, trying to avoid tò becoming too aggressive and still taking the best from it.

"Oh gods," he gasped, his face contorted in a painful expression. "I regret this too!"

"Aaaw, baby, you wanted to keep your hands on yourself until the wedding night! Your words are not mine." You said with a mischievous grin on your face. He had to bite his tongue, avoiding Just screw everything up.

"Not the best idea of mine..."

"It was romantic! A lot to be fair."

"Yeah, and you're a walking temptation,he sighed in defeat. You had already shared your bed, to use others words, but the fact that he knew how good you were for him and putting some stakes made everything just so hard. He had urges, and so do you.

"Well," you continued caressing his chest. "We said nothing about kisUMPF!" And he didn't give you the chance to continue. 

You stayed like there, enjoying each other in that small moment, well knowing that the line between a kiss and a falling into your desire was thin like hair.

A series of giggles and shush woke you up from the trance, which made you both remember that you were technically in an area full of other mobkeys instead of your shared house.

"Just in time, uh?"

"Yup!" You said standing up, reaching the door.

"AH AH! Brother, get a room, please!"

"So scandalous!"

"As your king, I demand respect!"

The group of monkeys Just started at him, expecting them to show respect?! Yeah, sure, believed that!

Míngzé, one of the more composed ones, and the one that had opened the door, with some awkwardness, had stepped inside.

"There's someone who said he knew you, brother." He asked for you and Lady Y/N."

"Someone?" He said sitting up.

"He's a brother from afar!"

"Must be Shen!" You said with a joyful voice, "Maybe he had finally decided to come visit!"

"In that case, let's not make wait the forefather!" Yuán Fèn made a Jumo on his feet, causing some laughter from his younger siblings while others ran away to go back to their duties. The day couldn't go wrong!

///

"Hello darling..."

A white furr as snow, a pair of glowing yellow eyes, emphasized by a deep black sclera, and six ears that heard your heart stop beating, in your chest.

He just smiled; it seemed an innocent, kind one, but you were sure that inside he knew that you were struggling to not just run away from him. He feaked ignorance; he was good at lying.

Yuán Fèn held you so close that you could feel his heartbeat racing, his breath getting heavy, and his eyes literally digging daggers in the other monkey.

"Look at you! You're radiant, you know that? Honestly, you're looking like AGH!" The Macaque was able to stop the sudden attack of his counterpart just because he had his weapon ready, just in case.

"What are you doing here?!" Yuán Fèn was gnashing towards him; the other monkeys were now screaming and mimicking his own action, ready to throw rocks and whatever kind of weapon was in their hands. The other one smiled, amused by the fact that he could still pull some stringer on you and him.

"Can't a monkey try to get in touch with his kind?!"

"Your kind?! AH! We have nothing to do with you!"

"Still salty for what I did? You almost kill me; I should lash out at you." He huffed, husing his tail to get free from the stalemate.

"I'm not here to cause troubles."

"Do you think I believe you?! After what you've done?!"

"Well, no, but I guessed that two kind ones like you would hear my pleas." He looked at you; he seemed to be mocking the fact that you were renowned to be a kind soul around these parts. You wanted just to get smaller and smaller, trying to disappear from his sight. Yuán Fèn had already blocked his eyes on you, putting himself in front of him.

"She's the kind one; I would love to smash your head."

More than a threat, the macaque rollers his eyes bored by the other monkey's hyper-portective behavior. Seriously, couldn't he just move in and forget that he tried to kill him, take his place, and almost amputate your leg? What a bommer.

"Listen, "he sighed," as much as I would love to kick your ass again."

"Yes, of course. Dream on."

"Thank you; I'm really here without malevolent intent! I...Need your help." By saying that, he gestured both of you.

You widened your eyes: he needed your what?!

Yuán fèn face contorted in a growling expression; he didn't buy it a single word, the Macaque was saying, and nobody wanted to hear his stupid plea of help. A small revenge for what he had done before...

The Macaque understood that the two of you weren't convinced, so he tried more.

"I've nowhere to go. As far as I know, the Celestial Realm never saw monkeys in a good way, and those old Bián huá survivors aren't the most nice with our kind. And, since it's clear I'll never regain my full power, at least I wanted to plead for asylum."

Yuán Fèn emitted an outraged scoff. How dare he ask for asylum?! Especially after what he had done! He went to you, moving away to discuss the matter, even if, for him, nothing was to debate.

"I'll make him leave. Just give me a few minutes, okay?"

You looked at him...then to the ground, biting your cheeks.

"...OOOOH no!" He crossed his arms. "You can't really consider him staying here!"

"Yeah, but...think about it! If he's here, we can control him, and he can have a home! Is a win-win!"

"I don't want a win-win; I want me to win and him to leave!" The monkey was exasperated by your suggestion. You sighed, massaging your temples.

"I want him around as much as you, but... leaving him dying out there won't make us different from him."

"...so you're basically telling me to be the bigger person?"

"Basically, yes."

He groaned in defeat. You were right, he had to be a good king, and even Wukong would prefer to be on good terms with that monster.

And, since now he knew that he was not a dead corpse rotting somewhere, he couldn't just let him run off like he was nothing. Again, you were right: keeping him near you both was a good way to monitor him.

"How much I wish to be the small one..."" he turned toward the macaque, suppressing the urge to smack away that smirk of his face.

"You can stay."

"Aaaw, brother, I know you-"

"Do not, Brother, me! I haven't finished!" He pointed the iron rod toward him. "If I even heard, no, sniff, that you're planning something, I'll erase the memory of you from this world. Am I clear?!"

His smirk disappeared from his face, sending the seriousness in the other tone.

"Crystalline."

///

You were so regretting it, and you and no one to blame but yourself. You were too arrogant to believe that you could stand even in the same place as him, and it was clear to everyone that this thing was stressing you out.

"Big sister, are you there?"

You looked at the small monkey, confused on why you were cleaning that pearl for five minutes straight.

"...y...yes!"

"You look worried... Is that creepy guy again??!"

When the small one started to greet her teeth like a small piranha, you were already in awe at how such a small cutie pie like that could become such a menace to the world.

Well, all the monkeys were cute until someone of their own felt threatened or there was a danger around. Which, to your prospective, were now both on the plate right now.

"Nooo, no, no! Please no more grrr and no more rawr here! I Just Need...some peace, that all."

Thing that was true, again, you were in a mental mess since you both decided to let that psycho stay at Mount Huaguo. You couldn't focus correctly, and the few times that you had to breath was when you had to visit the Spider sister to talk about the wedding and everything.

Every day was another fight. Despite you both letting the macaque stay, Yuán Fèn had always shown nothing but animosity towards the other male, and this had been murrored by the other monkeys. 

Even if he was supposed to work alongside others, the same monkeys had tried to attack him or push him away. During the meals, he was forced to go and eat away from the group, and even the night he had to sleep somewhere else.

You stayed silent, observing the flowers and the flowers around you.

"Say, why don't you bring me one of these snacks that I like? ...We can share!"

The promise of free food made the monkey dart from her spot to the door in a second, disappearing in a few screams and laughter.

You too laughed with yourself, giving you the chance to calm lady down and relax in the silence. Who knows, a good action could have led to such successful events? Well, it was better to not think about it at the moment...

You were almost there, ready to fall in a small nap, when you sensed the light of the sun from the window was clouded by something. You didn't think about it at that moment...

"Slacking of work, uh?"

You gasped and rose up immediately, looking at the window. His white tail moved slowly in waves, his chin on his hands, looking at you with some half-open eyes.

You jumped on your own two feet, pointing one of the many hairpins at him as a makeshift weapon.

"What are you doing here?!"

"I'm enjoying the view, of course!" He used that cheerful tone, reminding you of the day that he almost made you list a leg. He snickered, lowering down the hairpin with his tail.

"Relax, I'm not here to make a mess...for now."

You rolled your eyes, forced now to go back to the jewelry instead to relax like you were doing a few minutes before.

"Those are a lot of treasures here," he said, getting down from the window and taking one of the gens with his foot. "Have you decided to steal someone?"

"They are garmet for my wedding robe. Friends had sent too much of these, and now I had to decide which one I wanted."

"Wedding,?!" He threw away the gen that you caught before he could break it. "And since when did monkey get married?!"

"Since," you said, start to save everything from his grasp," me and Yuán Fèn are pretty much very in love, and since it's something nice to be done."

"OOOOH, so you covered the poor king?"

"I didn't coerce him!" You said offended." He proposed, and I accepted! ...like you could understand..."

Why he had to put his nose in your business?! He was lucky that it was you around and not your fiancé since he was already One step closer to smashing his skull.

"And by the way," you said, fixing on yourself another pair of earrings. "Why are you here? Aren't you suppose to work?"

"Well, I did have the intention to help around, but," he said, sitting on the edge of the window, "your future husband's little servants didn't enjoy my presence...so I left them."

"Wait, wait," you started to face him, a little more concerned than before. "They told you that?"

"Not exactly the same words, but gritty teeth and snarls are quite explanatory themselves."

So it wasn't just about the food and sleep, even in the working hours...you started to scratch your arm, nervous from this revelation. A part of you wanted him to suffer, yes, but another knows that this was too much.

Despite their mimicking of normal human lives, monkeys were still monkeys. He was a stranger—one that once had even hurt you and their leader. If you two felt unsafe, the entire group needed to intervene, and even if you did accept him, more for pity than for anything else, you still felt uneasy around him, and they were acting for you.

"Maybe I could...try to talk to them?"

He arched his head, now looking at you with a curious glim in his eyes.

"I mean, tò let you help. tò       Let you work and don't make a fuss about it."

He stayed silent after your suggestion. Then he started to giggle, then chuckled, until he just erupted in a big laugh.

"You...want...you want to...oh oh! This is hilarious! You think that they will listen?!"

"Yes, they will!" You responded with an offended tone in your voice.

He calmed his laugh and took a step closer to you. This time, you didn't flitch.

"Darling...Y/N...honey, this is not a human village...of the monkey king hates me more than everyone else does!...but it's not all bad."

"Ah!" Now this was your time to laugh, feeling more irritated with those nicknames. "Pray to tell?"

"Firstly," he started with his finger, "I can do what I want, and no one cares what I do until I do something bad. And second..."

He paused, looking at your figure. Your foot was tapping on the ground, your eyes were thinging, and your face was in an annoyed glare. He stopped more closer; only now you noticed the vicinity, which made you uncomfortable. His finger touched your face, giving you a small buffet on your cheek. 

"Of course I'm busy working; I can't mess with you."

You gulped; all your bravado left your body. 

He enjoyed that view, seeing you all a mess. After trying to sound so strong. He could really look at that forever...until a small monkey started to throw at him snacks that you like.

///

"You want WHAT?!" You covered your ears, while Yuán Fèn had literally thrown away the apples that he started to pick.

You had to avoid the fruits too, but you never lost sight of your husband.

"It's just letting him work! It's not such a bad option!"

"I would love to help you, Y/n, but you can't ask the others to accept him!"

"But why?!"

"Because," he jumped down the tree, cleaning one of the fruits that he had picked and gave it to you. "Monkeys don't work well with threats."

"I'm not saying that you have to threatened them!" You have a bite of the fruit. "I'm just saying that they need to learn how to cooperate!"

He hummed, thinking about your idea. He knew how kind you could be—too much for your own good, but he had to admit that you were right on your own part.

"So... less he stays around, less he's going to do evil staff?"

"More or less, yes!"

He hummed again, clearly reconsidering your idea. And, by the way, he needed to work around the colony, or he would be Just a freeloader... A freeloader with an evil plan. And, since all of this happened when he couldn't come to kick his butt After touching you, it seemed like a pretty good option on his part.

The next day, with your satisfaction, you heard about the Macaque being part of the team that was supposed to take care of the vegetables, and, with the same satisfied smile, you decided to go and take a look.

You founded him there, taking care of the snails and the small paradise against some lettuces—clearly not a job for someone that wanted to take the place of Sun Wukong.

"Enjoying your work day?" You chirped happily, and the monkey looked at you with an annoyed glare. How the tablet turns...

"I would prefer," he putted a snail in the bucket, "to have a more... less parasitic job."

"Ooh, don't be such a baby! You're doing great!" You laugh while the monkey just sighed while fighting another snail.

///

As every night, he took what he needed and left the area where everybody was supposed to eat. 

"Hey," you looked at Yuán Fèn. "Where he's going?" He looked at the monkey, following your finger, chewing a small piece of rise bun.

"I guess he's going to eat alone."

"Alone? Why?"

"I don't think the others are feeling that safe to have him around."

You looked at the macaque, eating alone under a tree—not so far but not that near to track attention. You felt again that sensation in your chest, the pressing feeling... and you were getting the name of it.

You felt guilty.

He gave a small sip of his soup when he noticed the movement of a skirt, the smell of meat near him, and a not-so-stranger perfume.

"Your fiancé is going to kill me."

"Maybe, but I'll spend eternity with him. One lunch with you, what could happen?"

He looked at you between his eyelids, hiding between them and the small spoon. How curious you were with that strange attitude of yours. Firstly, you were ready to smack him with a broom. Now you were there, eating your dinner all nice and cozy, with no trace of fear of his past actions. Well, maybe there was still some fear, but maybe you started to grow out of it?

And, while the two of you were eating in silence, you didn't notice the approaching of three young monkeys. Those were some teens, and by the looks of them, they were training in the martial arts. They sat a few meters away, looking at the two of you, sharing looks and talking between themselves. You noticed them and felt a rush of nervousness.

"Calm down," the macaque spoke. They just want to talk to me."

"Oh! And how do you know?" He just trapped one of his six ears, making you remember that he had an amazing gift there. You looked at the small group back again, then called for them.

"Come closer! He doesn't bite!" He begged to differ.

The three monkeys didn't lose that chance to get closer to eat alongside you and pester with question one of the few that put their future king down. It was a peaceful night, even if all of you were under the not so pleased eyes of your lover. 

///

Days start to pass, and with the change of the sky, even the Macaque had tò noticed some changes in him.

Before, he was feared, hated, left behind, and mistrusted. Now he has to look at three teenage monkeys that want to become stronger and that want to learn something different. He has duties around the colony, and a few ask him for his consulence. He wasn't always welcome, but he was tolerated by the others—all because of little you.

You with that almost bothersome optimistic nature, you with that annoying way to look at everyone and try to see equality, you with that kindness that had made enemies trust you.

You feared him; he hurt you. When did you stop feared him and felt sympathy?

Oh, wait, he knows when... that time at the river...

"Now, be honest with me." You said, posing down the scroll full of names and invitations.

"Why were you trying to steal the relics? I got the all-powerful being thing, but it was just that? Nothing less?"

He darted his eyes from his disciples to you, cursing your curiosity and your ability to read between lines. He sighed, shifting his weight from one leg to another.

"What am I to you?"

"An edgy monkey."

"Not that, i mean regarding the story."

You moved your head, trying to understand his words. What you knew was that he was some kind of evil monkey that wanted to take his place during the journey, but their motivations or his reasons never were explained at all. By the time you needed to find the reason, he understood about your confusion. 

"I guessed, back there, "he finally spoke," that if I was able to get the sutras, everyone would have finally acknowledged me. What I didn't understand back there was that Sun Wukong was behind this... and I was supposed to be just his copy forever."

His silence struck you, but not as much as his words. So that was it? He wanted to exist as himself... Despite the senplicity, for someone that was bound to be Just Sun Wukong, the evil twin It was... A lot 

That's why he wanted the relics; with those he would have been able to exist. To you, it felt simple yet so complicated.

"I do believe you exist."

He turned around, looking at you. Your face was adorned with that gentile smile that had bound many before him.

"I don't think you need the relics for this, but, as much as it could matter, I do think you exist for everyone else."

From that day on, after those words, you were more Kinder than before. You searched for him, asked him things, walked with him, and more.

And so his mind started to act different.

He wanted for you to search for him, to meet him, to call for him. He wanted you to desire for him to burn like that flame in his chest.

He wanted you, and he knew how wrong It was... but after all, he was bad...

He believed that it was just a small fantasy, something like a silly idea. How could he love? Love was above him, a creature born only to be the malice of someone else. 

He always wanted to be more; no one even cared to understand...but you did. You talked to him; you gave him a second chance, and he opened himself to you.

You have that power over Yaoguais, tò Just be so fucking nice and gentle, to be a different view.

You made him imagine things. You made him dream of courting you, to take you away from that wedding of yours, far too near to his own liking. He dreamed of fighting properly against the Destined One and winning you, and...and you were happy. You were happy to be with him.

///

"Thank you for the help. I REALLY needed another pair of arms!"

He hummed, looking around, trying to see if someone was looking for you or if you were watched.

No one was around...

"So you were saying that those mushrooms were on this side of the mountain?"

"Yeah... Just a little further. It's far from the village, so no one comes here."

Why did you have to be so trustful? Why did you believe that he had changed? He would have tried this if it wasn't for your naiveté.

No... No It wasn't you... It was him, the bad guy of the story.

While you both get deeper in the mountain, he opted so many times to stop, to just find some mushrooms and leave it...but he was too deep now, and he didn't want to stop.

Hours passed, and more you both got on that road, and more darkness started to fall. But you felt safe—too much safe, and he was taking advantage of that.

Finally, you spotted what you were searching for, under the base of a lonely tree. You gasped, happily knowing that your search did give you results, and you ran towards those mushrooms, starting to pick them up.

"There are so many! Look! Ah! You're so good at finding staff!"

You didn't see his body moving towards you, his staff in his hand.

You would understand; you always do. He would even take the form of Yuán Fèn if you wanted, just to make you happy and comfortable, but he needed it.

He needed the love you showed the other to him. He wanted your total attention.

He wanted you.

He prayed for your forgiveness while rising his staff.

"There! Done! I guess these are...uh?"

He was gone? Where did the Macaque go?

///

The trident puerced his shoulder, going so deep that the metal met the wood. The macaque needed to hold a scream of pain, scratching the metal of that weapon and trying to break free from it.

Erlang's piercing eyes didn't show remoteness against the monkey; she stopped to look at him with a silent hate and disdain.

"Despicable One... She trusted you, and this is how you're repaying her?! I knew I should have acted immediately when you set foot at Mount Huaguo, but I couldn't believe you could go this far."

The macaque looked at the celestial being in front of him. So that was why many other deities had left alone the mountain because of the sacred divinity protection? 

"Big words," he mattered between his hiss of pain, "for someone that kiled monkeys for sport!"

Erlang looked at him without trace of any emotion this time; he hated when people used old mistakes to make him feel bad, like he wasn't already.

"And I'm not the one that is trying to take away another groom's bride."

The Macaque was intelligent enough to see something else in that pure hate look on the divinity's face, and he couldn't hold a laugh at the event that was unfolding upon him. Erlang looked at him, annoyed by his antics.

"So you fell too, uh?! You fell for her! This is too good to be true!"

"I suggest you to watch your mouth, monkey."

"I watch mine, but at least I have some girls to actually act. You're nothing but a coward, too afraid of rejection than fighting for the hand of the one you love!"

Erlang didn't answer his provocation, yet he saw it. In his eyes, he did leave a mark with his words. The Celestial being freed the monkey from his grasp, but his weapon was still pointed towards him, even when he was at his knees.

"It's because I love her so much that I decided to stand back. And for love, I'll keep fighting to be his protector and shield against the skies and the other celestials. And I gladly can make some space for you too, monkey."

Despite the threat, the macaque couldn't do anything but smile. So that was it, eh? Old Erlang Shen has fallen for you and wanted to be your champion. He could have had another joker, but the idea of dying wasn't appealing at all.

"I trust that my words reached you, monkey." His weapon was sharper than ever right now.

"They did, sacred divinity."

And so that was his destiny—long for something that he wished but couldn't have—such was his life, uh?

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[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

You Make Me Wanna 5

Warnings: dark elements, noncon, age gap, best friend’s dad trope other dark elements. Proceed with caution.

Note: Please let me know what you think as it helps me a lot with ideas and I love interacting with you all.

Part of The Club AU

Three times. Walter, Mr. Marshall, Detective, whoever he is that day, has driven by your house three times. Three times that you’ve noticed. 

The first time you recognised his car, you were taking out the trash. The second time, you were making sure your siblings got on the bus for school. And the third time, you’re coming out the front door, in uniform as you mentally steel yourself for another day at the grocery store. 

You try not to be too obvious as you look for him. You set out on your usual route, a peek here and there over your shoulder, a strategic glance down the street as you turn to cross. Maybe he can stop you for jaywalking. A perfect excuse for him to swing around his weight. 

You take out your phone as you come in sight of the plaza with the grocery store at its centre. Still not word from Faye. You really don’t expect her to be the first to reach out. You’re still sore yourself. It isn’t just that she ditched you, again, it’s that she was so quick to believe you sold her out. She knows the way her father is and yet just like him, she assumes you’re in the wrong. 

As you approach the front doors of the store, you glance back at the lot. It’s sparse with vehicles, still early enough that stockers work at the shelves and the deli still fills its baskets with slices and salads. You clock in and tie on your apron, taking your vigil behind a till. Debbie leaves you as the sole cashier as she goes to do her counts. 

You stare across the store, vision blurring, as the ceiling speakers drone out 80s pop. Your eyes nearly cross at the orbs of colours that form around you; the medley of produce, the smear of labels, and the looming shade of endless aisles. As you detach yourself from the monotony, you’re filled with a cloud of futile acceptance. Every day for the rest of your life. 

Last year, you still had hope. You remember you told Faye you could save up and join her at college. That’s definitely not going to happen. You barely saved a nickel. Just like high school, your cheques were spent picking up after your mom’s job hopping. Your siblings can’t go without food or clothes or everything you didn’t have. Even when you get a few staples free from the clearance cart, you’re still paying far too much just to feed the lot. 

Chrissie is almost fourteen now. She offered to put in an application but she’s still a few years from all that. Besides, you don’t want her to be like you. Only ever worrying about the empty fridge and your mom’s latest antics.  

Zooey is only ten and blissfully unconcerned with anything but anime and drawing in her sketchbook, and your brother, Milo, seven, likes to bring home frogs and snakes. They’re both too young to sense anything is off, though at times, they ask you very pertinent questions about the other kids in their class. 

You sigh. You never wanted this life. Against your will, you’ve inherited your mother’s lot. Your siblings need a parent and she’s not willing to be one. So, you’ll just have to ring through eggs and milk for the rest of your life and make sure they aren’t caught in the same bog. 

“Hey,” the sharp greeting draws you back. 

You blink and shake away the daze. You look over at Mr. Marshall. Not again. You do your best to smooth the worry from your forehead and reach for the sole item on the belt. An excuse, you’re sure. 

You can through the breakfast tray of a hardboiled egg, pita, hummus, cheese, and grapes. The beep chirps harshly in your ears as he stares you down over the top of your till. You stifle a yawn as you hover your hand over the buttons. 

“That everything?” You ask dully. 

“You looked worried,” he moves to lean on the other side of debit machine, where his tray awaits him. “Like maybe you’re keeping secrets.” 

You huff, “I told you I haven’t heard from Faye.” 

“I didn’t ask.” 

“Don’t treat me like I’m stupid,” you snap, “are you going to pay or do you want me to put this back, detective?” 

“I’m off duty,” he tilts his head, “night shift.” 

“Great, so credit or cash?” 

He puffs through his nostrils and squares his jaw, “lot of kids running around your place, huh?” 

“No,” you say curtly, “don’t.” 

“I’m just tryna figure out where my kid is. Pretty crowded at yours so... maybe she’s somewhere else.” 

“Maybe she is,” you utter in exasperation, “but I guess it doesn’t matter how many times I tell you that I don’t know where. You're still going to waste my time. And yours. So, please sir, cash or credit?” 

He scoffs and looks around, the place is still desolate, “you got time.” 

But you don’t have the patience. You barely keep from the retort. You turn and start tidying the till, distracting yourself as you rearrange your sanitizer and check the bin in case it was missed. 

“She’s my daughter. How would you feel if one of your sisters ran off, huh?” 

“You don’t get to talk about my sisters,” you turn back to him, “fine, alright, you want evidence, I’ll give you evidence, sir.” You take out your phone and flick through it in frustration, “the last message she sent me was the night we went out.” You turn the screen to him, “she hasn’t texted, she hasn’t called. Happy? Cause I don’t think she’s interested in being my friend anymore. She’s finally outgrown the poor girl.” 

You can’t help but throw the phone at him as your emotion wells up, “she was only ever friends with me to piss you off. Like I said, I’m not stupid. I just--” you cut yourself off, “I got work to do.” 

You turn back to the screen at your shoulder and brace the cash drawer. You take a slow breath and let it out. You’re embarrassed. He finally did it. He finally got you to crack. You refuse to look at him as he gently places your phone on the counter. 

“Got it,” he says softly, “she isn’t with you.” He clears his throat and shifts, “debit.” 

You grit your teeth, staring at the screen as you hit the button to activate the pin pad, “go ahead.” 

You listen to the beep of each button as he puts in his pin. You wait and the till chimes as the transaction goes through. You rip of the receipt and drop it beside you on the counter without looking. You can hear everything, even the soft noise of him slipping his card back in his wallet. You keep your attention on the monitor. 

“Enjoy your breakfast,” he says. 

Your furrow your nose as you listen to his footsteps and only turn when you hear the automatic door whoosh. You look down at your phone beside the tray of food, the receipt laid neatly over it. You peek up at the doors and your stomach growls. 

His pity is hardly preferable to his spite. 

[attapullman]

Good at Makin' Bad Decisions | Rhett Abbott

Summary: Even a year after you've broken up, after a night of drinking you still end up in Rhett Abbott's bed.

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: f! reader, smut, 18+ ONLY as always, fingering, swearing, alcohol, healthy dash of praise k!nk as usual

A Note From Mo: I blame reading an old fic I desperately wanted to re-write and having covid, strep, and my period all at the same time for whatever the fuck this is. Anyway, happy 6 months since the last time I wrote Rhett! xoxo

There’s something about waking up in a bed that isn’t yours that causes an anxiety like none other. Especially when the night before is a hazy blur. And you aren’t wearing any pants.

Wait, where are your pants?

Creamy morning light bleeds through the thin plaid curtains in the room. From your spot half-buried under the comforter, you notice the vaguely familiar rodeo posters tacked up on the wall and dust-covered flannels on the floor. The slight tinge of boy sweat engulfs the room. Definitely not a Tillerson room, but who the fuck did you go home with?

A quick body scan results in these observations:

Your jeans were long gone, but cheekies and tshirt still remained.

Your head was splitting open from the axe of a bad hangover.

Based on the groan that did not come from your body, there was definitely another person in the bed. And they were awake.

You flip over in bed, panicked. Praying to God that beside you is some random Wabang townie. But you would know those dark, grown out curls anywhere. He may be turned toward the wall, but you know him better than you know yourself.

“Rhett?”

A tentative hand leaves the warm cocoon of blankets to roughly shove your ex’s shoulder. He grunts with consciousness and a veiny hand rises up to rub at his eyes. Takes a moment to rake through those unruly curls. Flipping over onto his back, bright ultramarine eyes quirk up at you. 

“Good mornin’ to y’too, sunshine.”

It’s hard to remember everything you want to say when he’s looking entirely too delectable for the morning hours. Something you’d sweetly told him during your relationship, but after your swift uncoupling it’s downright rude of him.

“Why am I in your bed?” His eyes roll slightly as he lifts up onto his right arm, rolling the thick, labor-built muscles of his neck and back. It’s mesmerizing, watching him work out the kinks that come with his profession. Your eyes unable to leave where his hand massages over that bronc tattoo you’re still weak over. “We didn’t sleep together, did we?”

He’s sexy as hell, but you’ve been doing a really good job avoiding him the past year.

“D’ya not remember any of last night?” Your head shakes, cheeks heating. “Not even a little? Oh fuck, really? You had quite t’night, darlin’.”

The color completely drains from your face. In your hey day, the two of you could drink the bar under the table, stumbling out of the Handsome Gambler with the sloppiest grins and even sloppier kisses. Drunken shenanigans were the norm. 

But since your breakup last year, nights out had been quiet. A beer or two, a tequila shot when the time called. Your friends don’t have the tolerance of a bull rider. And neither do you anymore, since you can’t remember much past that third shot of Don Julio.

How had you landed in bed with Rhett Abbott? 

As you watch him roll out his other shoulder, it’s like no time has passed since that night. Sitting in his truck, the front porch light on as your roommates wait for you to come in. Deciding that if he’s gonna be traveling the mountain states to make a name for himself, it’s not fair for you to be sitting at home worrying what bone would break. You can’t take off weeks to follow him around. You’re too young to sit around pining. He can’t handle all that time away from you. It just makes sense to call it quits. And yet tears poured down both your cheeks when you shut that truck door for the last time, Rhett Abbott no longer your business.

Why are you here?

Blinking back the ghost of tears, you clear your throat. “What kind of night exactly?”

In the past, a night of too much tequila in Rhett’s bed would have had Royal knocking on the door at an ungodly hour and Cecelia giving you an exasperated yet playful look when you snuck out the back door in the morning. 

“Do ya really want t’know what happened?” He’s leaning against the headboard, broad chest in view, sheets low on his hips. You say one last prayer that he’s wearing sweats so that you can still believe that you didn’t have a blackout fuck with your ex.

“I’m scared to ask,” you admit, the gentle smirk on his face confirming that this story is not going to paint you in a flattering light. 

Rhett’s head tilts down as he laughs, teeth flashing as the hearty grumble fills the room. Looks back up at you with that boyish mischievous grin you’ve loved for years. There’s a pillow indent still marring his cheek. Your heart lurches for him, for when you could call him yours.

His lip quirks. “Ya threw a rock at m’window in the middle o’the night. Begged me to let ya in. Told ya to go home, but ya threatened t’wake up my folks.”

Your cheeks flame with shame. Drunk you was not in your corner.

“Snuck ya in the back door, like ol’ times. Said yer friends had dropped ya off, so let ya stay until ya sobered up.” The burning embarrassment lifts a little, imagining you quietly climbing in bed and sleeping. But that unruly mischievous smile is back. “Then ya started tellin’ me how much you miss my cock and asked t’go for a ride.”

A hole opening in the earth and swallowing you couldn’t make you escape this embarrassment.

“Please tell me I didn’t-”

“Oh, but y’did, darlin’. It wouldn’t be a drunk night out with ya without asking for m’fingers. Practically gagging for it as I got ya upstairs.” He’s radiating pride. You risk a glance at those thick, calloused fingers. Yep, you can see yourself begging for even just one of them.

“Then ya started strippin’ off yer pants…forgot how cute yer booty looks shakin’ like that.” He lets out a joyful grunt, the happiest sound a cowboy ever did make. “Had to hold yer hands to yer side to keep it from bein’ a free strip show.” 

You swallow down every ounce of your dignity, the scene playing behind your eyes. Those strong hands wrapped around your biceps. Your cheeky comments, grinding your ass on any part of him you could. The lack of inhibitions on your part was concerning, but when had you ever been able to restrain yourself when it came to Rhett?

His giggles fade as you both sit against the rough wooden headboard, the one that is nearly as old as this creaky house. In the silence of the room you can now hear the busy sounds of his folks making breakfast. Figures they still have that louder than sin coffee machine. You could really use a cup.

He shifts beside you, the energy in the room softer. “Ya know, after y’fell asleep, I kept on thinkin’ about all the times ya stayed over here. Nights in the pasture. We were s’good…” He trails off, the silence filled with reminders of rushed kisses between rides, lazy afternoons on horseback, and too many days spent in the barn pretending to do chores while the two of you fell in love. 

It was you. You couldn’t handle the broken bones. The purpled bruises week after week. He loved it, and you couldn’t take that from him. So you had left a part of yourself with him and spent the past year pretending like you weren’t missing a limb. It was him. He didn’t want to be always missing home. Canceling rides purely so he could drive hours back here. He cut his losses before he was in too deep, spending the last year acting like a chunk of his heart wasn’t permanently cemented in you.

When you two crossed paths in town you exchanged sad glances and half-hearted smiles. Nights at the Handsome Gambler a drink was raised in greeting. It was as painful and as amicable as a breakup could be. But this was the closest the two of you had been since that night in his truck. The most you’d spoken other than forced hello’s. The most you’d touched since that last kiss goodbye.

Looking into those impossibly deep oceans he calls eyes, there was an emotion that you couldn’t read. His smile gone, thin lips bitten as he worried them between his teeth. Mirth replaced with angst.

You need to get out of here.

“M’sorry for interrupting your night. You know my libido has her own brain when I drink. Give me ten and I’ll be out of your hair - think Ce will notice me going out the back door?”

You’re barely off the bed when an arm, all hard muscle and thick veins, wraps around your bicep and brings you to a warm chest. “I-I…just for a minute, ‘kay?”

It’s the best you’ve felt in so long. Safe, warm. He’d shaped perfectly to accommodate you. It’s only natural to scoot closer into him, blurring the lines of ended relationships to seek his comfort.

Rhett’s heartbeat is solid beneath your cheek, speed picking up when you curl into him and run your hand along his side. The rumble of his chest vibrates as he clears his throat. “Ya don’t have t’ leave. I like havin’ ya here, missed holding’ ya, yer so soft.”

You hum in agreement and then there’s a beat, and you can almost see the bashful grin splitting his face. “And yer s’sexy in those panties.”

At least you weren’t the only one enjoying the view.

One of those perfectly large, comforting hands slides down your side, hitching your hip up so you can straddle his thigh. That thick expanse of pure muscle was exactly where you belonged.

You were already here, already embarrassed yourself. Might as well go the whole way.

“Rhett?” His eyes latch onto yours, eager to hear from you. “I don’t have to go. If you want to, uh, catch up?” If his hungry smirk wasn’t an indicator, the twitch in his boxers below speaks volumes.

Aware there’s an old house with no sound proofing and an entire family downstairs eating bacon, he rolls you over onto your back, rippling biceps boxing you in. That confident smirk that looks as in place in bed as it does atop a two ton bull. The hungover logic in your brain pleading you to go home not nearly as strong as the instant spring of your legs landing either side of his hips.

His lips ghost over yours, eyes searching yours for any sign of hesitance. The slightest groan left you, eager to feel him. Taste him.

“Please…please don’t tease me.” His smirk is bordering on arrogant as you wrap impatient hands around strong shoulders. Your libido was making her triumphant return after not being satisfied the night before, pooling in the apex of your thighs as he presses against you. You want Rhett, and you want him now.

He kisses the corner of your mouth, a shadow of the real thing. “If y’can be quiet f’me, I’ll give you m’fingers, darlin’.”

Dignity fades to the back of your brain as you quickly nod at him, lips pressed close like a good girl.

Scruff scratches along your jaw as he hums along your skin, pressing his weight to one side as calloused fingers make their way south, slipping and catching against your soft skin. Both your eyes fluttering as cotton is pushed aside and he finds your clit, rubbing the softest of circles. His little chuckle at how wet you already are. Small whimpers leaving you before he finally tilts his head down to smother your lips in a warm, soft kiss.

Fuck, he’s an even better kisser than you remember.

Running a hand through those unruly curls, letting the dark hair tangle between your fingers as you fight to keep your moans contained. A struggle as he presses deliciously on the button, delighted at how you squirm against him. Lips ghosting against your ear as he moans your name. “Doin’ s’good for me.”

While his thumb continues its mind numbing descent on your clit, the tips of his fingers brush against your folds. He knows you love a tease, the promise of what’s to come. His special trick to getting you to your orgasm in less time than he rides a bull.

“R-Rhett.” Your voice is barely audible, struggling to keep yourself from screaming his name to the heavens. Your fingers never feel this good, nothing could ever be as satisfying as his touch. Your pathetic whimpers picking up speed as the blinding white pleasure threatened to overtake you.

“Are ya gonna cum for me, darlin’? Y’know y’want to. Cum for me, baby girl, show me how good I make y’feel.”

Scruff against your neck and jaw as he showers you in kisses, whispers praises in your ear, fingers stroking and rubbing and bringing you closer to the promised land. Slips that wild tongue between your lips, groaning at your familiar taste, and that’s all it takes.

A thousand years could pass and you would still remember how all-consuming every orgasm is that Rhett Abbott has given you. The flash behind your eyes, the constriction of your chest. Thanking the good Lord that Rhett’s tongue is deep in your mouth to shush the pleasured scream that threatens to escape. 

You settle from your orgasm with soft kisses and his wet fingers trailing along your skin, soothing you. Not that it’s easy to be soothed when his erection is throbbing against your thigh. He’s hot and ready, prepared to take you all the ways he’s denied himself the past year.

You’re doing the mental math. Your ex giving you an orgasm isn’t that bad. Fucking him? That’s the kind of mistake you can’t undo and should be avoided.

But when you look in those midnight blue eyes, all reason hightails out the door. It’s just sex - not a relationship - you two are so good at sex. And it’s been so long since you’ve taken him for a proper ride.

Your fingers sink into the back of his boxers, itching to sink your fingers into the meat of his ass - hard and toned from hours riding. Tease him a little by pressing a kiss to that scruffy chin as he ushers you along, desperate to be inside you.

Just as you get the checkered material past his cheeks, there’s a knock at the door. Rhett’s a deer in the headlights above you; wide, scared eyes aimed at the door.

It’s Cecelia, speaking through the wood as she walks past with the laundry. “Rhett, hurry up, y’got chores in the barn.” 

The two of you exchange a glance, relief at being in the clear.

“Oh, and sweetie? Since you’re still here, if you want breakfast, there’s some extra bacon.”

Abandoning my normal tag list since it's not Bob and tagging some fellow Rhett bb's who might enjoy: @bobfloydsbabe @sorchathered @bobgasm @auroralightsthesky @creatchie8 @just-in-case-iloveyou @ryebecca @sebsxphia @lewmagoo

[shybluebirdninja]

FADED DAYS: PART 2

Summary: In a bleak world where Logan has lost his purpose, an unexpected connection with his nurse brings a spark of humanity back into his fading life as an Uber driver.

Pairing             : Uber-Driver!Logan Howlett x Nurse!Fem-reader

Genre              : Heavy Angst

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) (Part 7: The Final)

You swipe the screen to clock out from your shift, feeling the heavy pull of exhaustion in your bones. It was one of those nights—sick patients, endless charts, and a doctor who looked at you like you’d just ruined his life every time you handed him a pen. You just want to go home, crawl under the covers, and sleep for a decade.

But the second you tap the Uber app, you see it.

Your driver: Logan. Estimated arrival: 4 minutes.

“Oh, hell no.”

You vaguely remember the grumpy old guy from last time, the one who looked like he was one minor inconvenience away from driving the car straight off a cliff. You sigh, rubbing your temples. The last thing you need is another ride full of awkward silences and death glares.

His car pulls up, same as before, creaking to a stop like it’s gasping for its last breath. You get in and immediately regret it. It smells faintly of...is that whiskey? And maybe motor oil? You’re not even sure anymore.

“Hey,” you say as you settle in. “Fancy seeing you again.”

“Yeah, lucky me,” he grunts, his voice sounding like it’s been dragged over sandpaper. No eye contact, just the same stoic stare out the windshield. The engine groans, and you wonder if the car’s going to make it through the ride—or if the driver will, for that matter.

The silence stretches out like an awkward third wheel in the backseat. You figure you might as well try to lighten the mood.

“So, Uber driver, huh? Is this, like, your dream job?” You flash a grin, hoping for at least a chuckle.

“Pays the bills,” he mutters. “Not that it’s any of your business.”

Ouch. Guess humor isn’t his thing. Still, you push on.

“I dunno, man. You don’t really scream 'people person' to me. No offense, but I thought Uber drivers were supposed to be...uh, friendlier.”

He snorts. “I ain't here to be your friend.”

“Clearly,” you mumble under your breath. “Just trying to make conversation.”

Another snort, this one a little more amused, but still tinged with that world-weary, grumpy-old-man vibe. You’re not sure whether to laugh or feel sorry for him. He’s like the human version of a stray dog—ragged, angry, but you know deep down he’s just tired of being kicked around.

The car lurches forward as he merges onto the freeway, and you notice the deep lines on his hands again. The knuckles, those strange scars. You’ve seen your fair share of battle wounds in the hospital, but his look different. Old. Like he’s lived through something worse than just a bad day at work.

“Rough shift?” he asks suddenly, breaking the silence. His voice is still gruff, but there’s something softer beneath it. Not exactly sympathy, but...close enough.

“Yeah,” you admit. “You could say that.”

He grunts again. “I’ve had worse.”

“Yeah?” You glance at him, eyebrow raised. “Like what?”

He doesn’t answer right away, but his grip on the wheel tightens. For a second, you think you’ve hit a nerve, but then he shrugs. “Nothing you’d believe.”

“Try me.”

There’s a pause, and for a moment, you think he’s going to brush you off. But then he glances at you, just for a split second. His eyes are tired, so tired. “You ever been shot six times in the chest?”

Your eyes widen. “Uh…no?”

“Yeah, didn’t think so.”

You blink, unsure if he’s serious. Then he coughs—this raspy, painful sound—and you can’t help but laugh. It’s ridiculous. The whole situation is ridiculous. This grumpy, near-dead Uber driver who claims he’s been shot six times and lived to tell the tale.

“You’re kidding, right?” you ask, half-expecting him to say it’s a joke.

“Nope,” he says, popping the p in the most deadpan way possible. “Still hurts when it rains.”

There’s a beat of silence before you both laugh, his cough mingling with the sound. It’s not exactly a light-hearted moment, but it’s…something.

But as you look at him, the laughter fades. You see the deep, hollow weariness in his eyes again. The kind that no joke can really erase. And something tugs at your chest—a weird mix of sympathy and sadness.

You shake your head, changing the subject. “So, Uber wasn’t your first gig, huh? What’d you do before?”

“Stuff,” he says, evasively.

“Stuff? Very specific.”

“Stuff that ain’t your concern.” His tone is final, but there’s no malice in it. Just the same wall of grumpiness he’s clearly used to hiding behind.

When he pulls up to your place, you linger in the car for a second, wondering if you should say something more. Something...human. But instead, you just glance over at him one last time.

“Take care of yourself, Logan.”

For the first time, his eyes flick up to meet yours, and you swear there’s a flicker of something behind that grizzled exterior.

“Yeah,” he says, voice low. “You too.”

You step out, closing the door softly behind you. The car lingers for a moment, like he’s thinking about something. Then, with a groan of the engine, he’s gone, disappearing into the night.

As you walk up to your apartment, you can’t help but smile. Who knew a grumpy old Uber driver could leave you feeling this weird mix of sadness and warmth?

You’ll probably see him again. Something tells you he’ll be around.

[zujime]

─── vi

cw. best friend’s ex! vi, fluff, implied fem reader (no pronouns used tho), acquaintances to lovers, (slight) slow burn, cuddles, sharing a bed, movie nights, pet names mentioned: princess, babe, hun, gorgeous.

note. a lil somthing i conjured up during my period insomnia :)) I'm running on one hour of sleep ya'll mrgh... anyway, should i make another part?

best friend’s ex! vi who you only ever saw in passing when she was still with your bestie. why they broke up was always a topic your friend never really expanded upon but they got off on somewhat good terms—though you do recall the prolonged stares vi would give you when she’d come by.

best friend’s ex! vi who you happened to stumble upon when going to get your lunch at the cafe that was across from your job right after you finished your shift. you remember hearing that she wasn’t really a fan of the food here because “the food ’s just glorified hospital food”, though the silly jab at her comment is caught in your throat when she greets you; silver eyes soft as they flicker between your eyes, scarred lips curling into a shy smirk as the velvety soft sound of her voice reaches your ears.

best friend’s ex! vi who you gave your number to after that same encounter to keep in touch—she’d text you during your breaks to ask silly questions and take your mind off work stress and later call you after your shifts end. and those calls end up lasting far longer than intended, either up until someone falls asleep or till someone’s phone dies.

best friend’s ex! vi who takes three weeks to ask if you wanna hang out, you know, as friends? inviting you over for a movie night at her place on your day off to watch the movies you’d been dying to watch but never got around to. you were able to get through the first two but as soon as the third movie started, you began nodding off before vi felt your head softly fall onto her taut shoulder—your lashes ghosting the exposed skin as you slept peacefully, drooling a little.

best friend’s ex! vi who chuckles slightly at the sight and at the warm, heart-swelling feeling you give her whenever you call, text—hell, whenever she sees your face. she turns the tv off before picking you up and tucking you in her bed before she goes to sleep on the couch.

best friend’s ex! vi who you wake up and walk down the hall to see laid out on the couch, limbs hanging off the couch from under the soft blanket she had on—low mumbles could be heard from her sleeping form, faint yet audible, though they’re cut short as she stretches and slides a hand over her face in hopes of wiping away the sleep, eyelids heavy as she peers at you.

“how long have you been watching me?” her voice still carried the taunt with a softness as she spoke groggily. you feel your face grow warm at her question, despite it being a tease but you brush it off and thank her for letting you stay the night even though none of you intended to have a sleepover. she hums in response before getting up off the couch. “it was like—three in the morning—and i am not some asshole who would’ve just let you go home alone, princess.” the pet name slid so effortlessly off her tongue as she passed by you, to go shower.

best friend’s ex! vi who you find yourself hanging out with more and more, and the pet names she’d give you only seemed to grow—not like you had a problem with it. she’d call you things like babe, princess, and hun far more than she’d ever say your actual name, she even calls you gorgeous, though rather sparingly because sometimes she feels like she’s going a little too far.

best friend’s ex! vi who you refuse to tell your bestie about every time she asks what you’re thinking about whenever you zone out during your monthly outings.

“what’s with that face?” she inquires, giggling a bit at the shamelessly lovesick expression you wore. “what face? what’re you talking about?” you snap back to reality, eyeing your friend anxiously as you listen to her response. “you know, that face people make in those really cheesy romcoms from the 2000s when they’d just met the love of their life or something…” she trailed off, now squinting at you in suspicion. “...are you seeing someone?” “...” “hello?!” “girl, no! i’m thinking about when imma get my mfing food.”

best friend’s ex! vi who you practically live with at this point—because of how often you two have sleepovers, she has a majority of your belongings all around her apartment; your clothes in her closet and dresser, your extra toothbrush and hair products, fav foods/snacks and drinks in the fridge, etc. though, she still insists on sleeping on the couch whenever you stay over despite you stating you have no problem sharing the bed. eventually, she caved—reluctant at first as she squirmed under the comforter to get comfortable beside you until she finally was able to fall asleep. 

best friend’s ex! vi who at first when sharing the bed with you, would often wake up to make sure she wasn’t crowding your space or being touchy in any way. but the moment she woke up to your arms draped over her frame, she softened and decided to just let herself sleep—burying her face in the crook of your neck and holding you close as she slept, yet she still tries to be mindful of her movement so she doesn’t wake you.

best friend’s ex! vi who you realize is a huge sucker for physical affection. oftentimes brushing her hand against yours in hopes of holding it but hesitantly refraining from interlocking fingers when in public. and when the two of you are alone, she desperately leans into whatever you give her—head scratches, movie night cuddles, pinky holding, tracing her tattoos with your fingers, anything.

best friend’s ex! vi who realizes she has feelings for you during one of your typical movie nights, but the look you gave her when the movie ended—eyes reflecting the television screen so prettily as you tilt your head slightly to peer up at her before speaking, but whatever it was you said had completely gone through one ear and out the other as the skin of her ears slowly became a deep red.

"fuck." was the only thought that crossed her mind as she stared at your soft eyes. "vi?" you murmur, a little worried at the expression she wore. but she abruptly stands up before excusing herself and heading to the bathroom.

best friend’s ex! vi who you spent the last few days worrying about—is she ok? is she sick? did you make her uncomfortable? thoughts seemed to race through your head endlessly until she asks if you could come over real quick, through a text.

best friend’s ex! vi who—despite having met multiple people before—gets nervous when you step foot in her apartment. in her eyes, the feeling of her words falling messily from her lips as she spills her guts to you feels weird. but when you creep close to her—lips mere inches from hers as your breaths mingled and eyes heavy-lidded—that feeling dissipates.

best friend’s ex! vi who gets lost in the sea that is your lips as you drown in the feelings she was too scared to show you. callous hands slotting themselves needily on each side of your face, pulling you deeper into the kiss with every shared breath, begging never to part. almost as if accepting her request, you rest a hand against hers, smiling into the searing kiss before finally pulling away for air and softly gazing up at her silver orbs.

© zujime. all rights reserved. do not translate, copy, modify, repost or claim any of my works on any platform as yours.

[songsofadelaide]

HELLOO!!! me again teehee i was wondering if u still accepted requests or if theyre closed for now but i still wanted to share my ting!! moment but its totally up to u whether or not u’ll accept.

in part two of the cbffs hoshina x reader series, hoshina mentioned reader should write him letters if there are anything reader cant say to his face and i was wondering if we could get like a moment where that happens im thinking uhh since hoshina is pretty important member of the force maybe he gets too busy/ preoccupied/ spending too much time w work and while reader understands this it doesnt mean she doesnt feel lonely sometimes… maybe add a bit of jealousy w hoshina spending alot more time w/ okonogi or whoever/ whatever scenario if thats up to ur liking and reader just gets distant?? and decides to leave a letter to hoshinas table telling how she feels as she cant say what shes feeling to his face

idk theyve been so cute and happy i wanna ruin it EMZ!!! lowkey theres already a number of good jealous hoshina we need more of jealous reader imo. thank uuu!!!

ANON WHY?! Like why ruin a perfectly good thing LOL BUT I GET! 😂 I'm all for fluff, but maybe the reader should go apeshit sometimes. 🤭

This will be the final part of my Radiant Point series, which took on a life of its own after I received so many lovely requests for more parts of it! 💛

My apologies too that this took so long! There's balancing life in real-time. (I just quit my job and am now hunting for a new one lol! 😂)

flare — another side story to radiant point. ✧ refulgence | candor

cw: vice captain soshiro x platoon leader (f) reader, fiancee reader, childhood friends to lovers, jealous + mean reader, no use of 'yn', happy reunions.

Vice Captain Hoshina Soshiro of the Third Division was perhaps the second most admired person in Tokyo. 

Not only that, but perhaps he's also the second most busy person in your division.

You learned about that the hard way one day when you found Soshiro conversing with one of the Operations trainees Konomi assigned to him during low-risk missions while on your way to the Captain's office. You just wrapped up from a mission yourself when you nearly walked in on him and the young but pretty girl. She had a neat look to her person and evidently took everything he said to heart, jotting down notes as he spoke to her about pointers you had no idea about. If you remembered correctly, too, she must be one of Konomi's best and brightest since she had no issue assigning her to the Vice Captain, of all people. 

"Well? Did you get all of that, Tateyama? It's a lot to consider, but Okonogi-chan thinks you're capable enough."

"Yes, boss! I-I mean sir!" The Operations trainee, Tateyama, eagerly nodded her assent as she closed her notepad and slipped it back into the pocket of her white coat. 

"Do you have any other questions?"

"D-Do you have a girlfriend, Vice Captain?!"

"I'm engaged to Platoon Leader Koganei," Soshiro replied with his usual cheer. "You must not know about it since we've just recently announced it."

"O-Oh, I see! One of our Platoon Leaders…" 

"She and I are childhood friends, too."

"Ah! And childhood friends, too!" The younger girl remarked with a look of complete surprise on her face. "How romantic!" 

You left them to their conversation after hearing just how harmless it was and decided to pay no thought to it afterwards. A young girl with a silly crush on your fiancé was nothing to feel threatened about. More than anything, it was rather flattering to know just how well-sought-after Soshiro was and that he still chose you out of all the people he could be with.

But then you realised the young girls around him may not be as harmless as you initially thought.

The young Operations trainees were taking a break from weapons calibrations when you overheard their conversation at the mess hall that afternoon. You didn't mean to, of course. You and Tae were there for a break yourselves, but something in the tone of their voices made you do a double-take.

"I can't believe you actually asked Vice Captain Hoshina if the rumours were true!" 

"I-I know! It's too bad that they were. That means he's off-limits," said the girl you recognised as Tateyama from the other day. "B-But that doesn't mean we can't daydream about him a little now, can we? He's just so cool!"

"Exactly! And he's got a cute side, too. Maybe if we show him just how good we are, he might cave in and even consider enterta—"

"Well, that's not a good w— O-Otome-chan?!"

Your fellow Platoon Leader was unable to stop you from marching towards their table, where you unceremoniously slammed down your favourite iced drink.

"P-Platoon Leader K—!" The girls hastily rose to their feet to meet your smiling yet furious gaze. "We—"

"You're… Tateyama, aren't you? The one assigned to the Vice Captain," you said, not even allowing them to speak. "And you are?"

"A-Akabane, ma'am," the other girl stammered.

"My, you must think so little of Vice Captain Hoshina if you think he'll consider entertaining little brats like you," you stated with a wicked grin on your face. "How… funny. I seem to recall the Vice Captain telling you that he was already engaged, Tateyama. But that doesn't bother you at all, does it?"

"I-I…"

"This isn't high school, children. We aren't in the business of stealing other women's boyfriends here. Even more so that he's engaged. We're all about saving lives and subjugating Kaiju here. If you're really as smart as Konomi-chan says you are, you'll know what's more important."

How scary, Tae thought to herself, though she couldn't blame you for reacting that way, too. Then again, these kids are way too brazen!

Captain Ashiro Mina of the Third Division, a pillar of strength and a beacon of light for the people of Tokyo, has been reduced to matchmaking duties because she's had just about enough.

Because two of her best officers were acting like idiots.

She was supportive of your relationship with Soshiro at first, but now that you were unable to coexist in the same space whenever the Vice Captain was around, she thinks it's borderline ridiculous. You couldn't even deliver reports without glaring at him wherever your eyes met! (And you admit that it's totally unprofessional on your part.) Mina is forgiving, but your situation begs the question now.

Can loving someone really fry your brain that much?

She heard about how you scolded the younger Operations trainees and even had Konomi apologising for their "brazen" behaviour, as Tae also mentioned.  

Soshiro's not-so-subtle teasing and flirting aren't helping your case, either. Everyone knew he liked throwing around little endearments, but the way he spoke to you was different— his voice hushed to a whisper and a string of endearments he'd rather not let anyone else hear—and it made sense to the rookies that you were a blubbering mess afterwards.

But they all noticed how you avoided the Vice Captain like he had the plague even though he just whispered yet another light-hearted sweet nothing to you. It was clear to them that you were annoyed, but the way your lips quivered in embarrassment gave you away and you might as well just combust on the spot.

"I'm acting like a fool…"

The final straw was when you were taking your bath late in the night. Mina realised you were purposely avoiding everyone else by volunteering to be the last one to take a bath and mop up the floors. You thought you'd be all alone by then, but you were shell-shocked by the dark silhouette that appeared behind you as you groaned to yourself. 

"C-Captain! I-It's late! Wh—"

Your Captain held her belongings in one hand while the other had a finger gun pointed at you. "You need to tell me if you're acting like a fool for a reason."

Soshiro has had just about enough of your attitude lately.

Your jealous outburst was cute when he first heard about it, but the Operations trainees wanted nothing to do with him anymore after that. And he couldn't have that happening since they had to practise analysing vitals and situations and calibrating weapons with someone. He will have to pass on the task to the Platoon Leaders, but he needed to speak with them— and you. 

You avoided him as much as you possibly could and everyone else picked up on it now because no one else spoke up whenever you two were in close proximity, as if they were waiting and anticipating for the two of you to reconcile. You didn't mention anything about leaving Tachikawa, too, since he found out earlier this week that your platoon was assigned under Ryo and Tae in the meantime.

"I gave Koganei an assignment. She's at Ariake," Mina told her Vice Captain as he inquired about your whereabouts. "She… didn't want me to tell you about it."

"Ah, I see," came Soshiro's flat response. "I apologise for draggin' the entire division in our…"

"She'll be back tomorrow. When she arrives, I'll need you two back here in my office to discuss something," she stated. "In the meantime, Hoshina, have you considered organising the files at your office?"

Letters were among the many things you and Soshiro shared, especially when you went to France to further your fencing skills. For the young man who loved to read and devoured nearly everything that had words on it, your letters to him were always a source of delight. When you were still in France, it took around 10 days for your letters to reach each other, so you always had something new to read almost every week.  

He was utterly elated when he found yet even more letters from you addressed to him, though you never sent them his way because of how candid they were. It pleased him to no end to find out that his feelings for you were reciprocated. In your letters, he could trust you to give voice to the very depths of your emotions, even more now after he told you to write to him whenever you wanted to. 

On his office desk sat a single letter in your familiar and favourite cream stationery, and it was only then he realised that his Captain's cryptic comment was meant to be a sign of sorts pointing to his most favourite means of communication with you, his most favourite person. The letter sat atop a number of document folders that had to be sorted out, but he'd figure those out later. 

"To Hoshina Soshiro-副隊長,

I suppose I'm still at headquarters by the time you find this letter. I remember you once told me that I could write to you whenever I could, whenever I wanted to, especially if there were things on my mind that I couldn't speak out loud. It's embarrassing having to write something like this, but I feel like I can be honest with you here.

It was only recently that I realised that Vice Captain Hoshina Soshiro of the Third Division is perhaps the second most admired person in Tokyo. I say second because Captain Ashiro is still at the top of the list. Imagine that— your fiancé, one of the most admired persons in the city. The whole of Japan, even, now that I think about it. 

You always claimed to be nothing special, but I can confirm with you that it wasn't true at all when I heard those little girls prattling about impressing you. They speak about you like you're some monolith meant to be worshipped… and the worst part is I completely understand them. I, too, look up at you in awe of your silent strength and skill and still hope that you will turn my way— even though I know that your gaze rested solely on me and that your heart is mine, even from long, long ago. 

Truth be told, I can't handle the way other women speak about you. And it's beyond my control. You are just so amazing like that— And have you heard the way they talk about your body??? You've been objectified so many times now, I might as well burn down the base—

I know I must have been a brat this past week, but I promise you that my antics end now. Captain Ashiro scolded me in the bathroom sometime last week and told me to sort things out with you. She even said you must hand over my remaining brain cell because I clearly wasn't thinking straight these past few days. 

I apologise for being such an insufferable person. I hope we can talk once I return from Ariake. The Captain of the First Division requested a blade master for close-quarters training, so Captain Ashiro sent me, claiming I am the second best Tachikawa can offer. You are, of course, a knife she can't afford to lose. 

She also told me to beat up Captain Narumi in her stead, so there is that.

I'll bring back some Mont Blanc from that shop at Jiyugaoka. Let's have them with coffee and tea when I get back.

I love you dearly."

Soshiro was nothing but happy to see you back at Tachikawa a day later, the box of Mont Blanc you promised him nearly dropped in the process when he welcomed you back with a hug. He didn't let go despite your struggling and urging and whimpering at how embarrassing this was. 

How could he let you go when you were holding him just as tight in the first place? 

You both had barely set down your salutes when your Captain welcomed you into her office with a simple declaration, an order you couldn't refuse. 

"I need you two to go on a vacation for me."

✦ Thank you for requesting! Nothing makes me happier than writing a request I know I can work with. 🍹 You can read more about requesting here. (Requests are closed at present. Thanks for your kind understanding!)

[lucienarcheron]

Spirit Meets the Bones XXV

Genre: Angst/Romance/Drama Warnings: Mentions of physical abuse. Author's Note: anddd we're finally starting with the new chapters! I hope you all enjoy :)

shoutout to @abruisedmuse for being part of this journey with me!!

tagging: @climb-the-mountian / @vanserrass / @zenkindoflove / @animezinglife / @readthelastpaage / @teddyhoneybear / @positivewitch / @krem-does-stuff / @clockwork-ashes / @carolynmezzosoprano / @carnythian / @runningwiththeoceans / @secret-third-thing / @readychilledwine / @goldenmagnolias / @thedarkinmansfield / @mali22 / @maidr-00 / @electromagnetic-waves / @eastofatlanta / @moobell55 / @bibliophiliaxvignette / @devilsfoodcake22 / @moonfawnx / @weesablackbeak / @ladywhilemia / @alohaangels / @eachies / @feysandfeels / @thelovelymadone / @corcracrow / @dawneternal / @sinnerrsworld / @gracie-rosee / @stormycleric / @queenoftheworld1998 / @wolvesnravens / @illyrianvalkyrie / @that-golden-lyre / @ladystarrynight / @rityrooroo / @thewilderheart

Find it all here.

Eris lost track of how long he’d been staring at his wife. He woke up on his stomach to find her nuzzled into the arm he had wrapped around her waist, curled into his side. He hadn’t dared move and like any respectable husband, Eris watched his wife sleep soundly. 

He could tell by the lighting of their bedroom, that it was well into the morning. Normally, Eris never slept in. Normally, he would’ve been long gone in his meetings with Iris in her lessons or joining him. But this morning would be different. Every morning could be different now. 

For once, his head was quiet. For once, Eris had woken at peace. Despite what had happened yesterday with his father, with Iris’s father, nothing could shake this…ease he was feeling. 

His arm was slightly numb at this point but the corner of his mouth lifted as he continued to watch her. He couldn’t bring himself to disturb her. It made him ache in a way he never had before and Eris shifted to brush his lips to the top of her head. 

She was his. Just his. 

The exhaustion of the day had caught up last night and Eris didn’t remember the last time he had sunk into such a deep, blissful sleep. And it was thanks to her.

Carefully, he detached himself from her grip, quickly replacing his arm with a pillow but Iris had barely moved, only snuggling deeper into the sheets. He spared her another glance and felt that urge, that need of the mating bond pulsing beneath his skin, tempting him to go right back under the sheets and touch her.

Displaying any kind of emotion, or desires — he had trained himself against all of it. Not only had he shown it all yesterday, but he also wasn’t sure how to bottle it all back up now that Iris had seen it. 

After so long of pushing it down and containing it, his emotions had overflown, and short of slitting his own throat, it wasn’t going to get bottled again. He had been hanging by a thread for years. It served him well that his wife of all people would push him over the edge. 

He was going to throw up. 

Rubbing his hand down his face, Eris forced himself to walk to their washroom, and away from her. Even if walking away felt like trudging through mud. He needed to keep his head. He needed to keep it together.

And the sight of himself in the mirror immediately sobered him, making Eris’s jaw clench. While his father’s gifts had healed better than how they usually did thanks to Iris’s work, the sting when he moved was still present. It didn’t even compare to the agony of trying to clean the wounds before they healed in the shower last night. Eris had done a great job of ignoring them but knew he would have to be more careful and allow it to heal properly the next few days. 

He would have to do something about his hair as well. It made Eris scowl as he ran a hand through the roughly chopped strands and he turned away from the mirror in distaste. He had told Iris everything and the feeling of how raw and exposed he felt was starting to catch up. He had never been that vulnerable with anyone and Iris seemed to have known that he…he needed a little more last night. And she had not hesitated to give that to him. 

It made Eris want to hurl again so he shifted his focus on all the oils and bubbles stocked on their bathroom shelves and decided he would let her indulge in relaxation this morning. He didn’t want to leave their room until he absolutely had to. His gaze flickered across his wife’s collection of options, and selected the ones that he knew smelled like her: vanilla with a hint of raspberry and his favorite, a scent he had specifically requested for her, iris petals. 

He knew Iris liked to indulge in baths and his eyes shifted around the shelves until he found a bottle of a lavender scent he knew she liked. This would be a nice gesture for her, wouldn’t it? 

Eris froze just as the thought went through his mind. He had not just gone there.

He stared down at the bottles in his hands and a deep sense of embarrassment crashed over him. He was far too fucken old for this shit and his scowl deepened as he suddenly pictured how hard his mother would laugh at him for this. 

And that thought made the pit of his stomach sink in and his grip tightened on the bottles. 

His mother. 

He wasn’t sure what state she would be in and he didn’t — couldn’t see her just yet. He didn’t want to think about what had happened between his parents while he was with his wife. He didn’t want to think about what his father had been up to after he had finished with his son. 

Eris felt his insides shrivel. He was a piece of shit, sitting here thinking about indulging in relaxation when he should see what happened in his absence. It had been hours. What could his father have gotten up to during this time? 

And again, he thought back to how he had told Iris everything — everything about his parents and why his family was the way they were.

The familiar sense of self-loathing began to spread and he felt rooted to his spot, pathetic and wretched, and as disgusted with himself as everyone outside of their court always seemed to be with him. This was why he had hesitated to share things. Because it felt wrong to expose their issues. Wrong to share this burden with anyone else. 

Shame and regret began to swirl in the pit of his stomach and Eris had to swallow hard to truly not vomit. Maybe if he just — 

A touch on his arm startled him out of his thoughts and Eris whirled with a snarl then choked, freezing in place as he found Iris blinking at him rapidly, her hand inches away from his arm.

The two watched each other for a moment, that animalistic urge of the mating bond thumping through his body again and his nostrils flared as her scent hit him. He had to use all his willpower not to launch himself at her. 

“Are you alright?” she asked and Eris’s eyes swept down to catalog her body, covered in that same robe from last night then back up to her face. Her hair fell in messy, loose curls and it made him want to run his hands through it. Then grab a fistful of it. Gently. She could like that.

But it was the look of concern on her face that had his heart stuttering in his chest. 

Gods, she cared about him. It hadn’t been a figment of his imagination from last night. 

A beat of silence passed then Eris blurted out the only thing he could think of, “What are you doing?” 

Iris blinked then lifted a brow. “What are you doing?” she asked. “You look like you’re truly two seconds away from launching yourself out the window.”

Eris’s expression flattened and it made his wife’s lips twitch. 

“Well. Good morning to you.” he said curtly.

“Good morning.” Iris replied with a small amused smile. “Is everything alright? You seem unsettled.”

Eris watched her for a moment then looked down at the bottles in his hands again. He was unsettled. By his own thoughts and where they’d taken him. By how much he was feeling. By the way his mate stood before him and looked at him with eyes that saw through him too clearly. 

“Do you…want to talk about it?” she asked carefully but Eris shook his head. 

His wife didn’t say anything else, waiting for him to speak but he felt her gaze on him.

“I’m thinking.” he finally said quietly, his hands gripping the bottles tightly. 

“You tend to do that too much.” Iris replied, her eyes flickering to his hands and then back to his face. 

“Someone has to.” he mumbled and she bit back another amused smile at the frown on his face. 

“And what are you thinking about this morning?” she asked.

Another beat of silence passed and Eris made himself swallow. A muscle feathered in his jaw but he forced his mouth to open and say, “That I shared too much last night. And it makes me feel nauseous.” He glanced up at her. “I want to stab myself just for saying that. I don’t like feeling this way. I don’t like feeling.”

Iris watched him carefully for a moment. She had woken up to the sound of his movements but it had been a surge of negative emotions that had tugged her up from her bed and compelled her to go to him. 

As she stood before him and heard the frantic beating of his heart, she knew a part of him was ready to bolt, like a deer caught in the wild. And Iris wondered for a brief moment if she should find it strange that she was still the level-headed one between them. 

“The after-effects of oversharing have kicked in, I see,” Iris said gently and gave him a small smile when he looked up at her. “I know it’s not easy for you.” 

Her husband only swallowed hard and watched her silently then glanced back down at his hands. It made her ache that he felt so much and had never felt safe sharing it. 

She moved closer to him and ran a hand up his arm, enjoying the feeling of his skin beneath her fingers; a few months ago she hadn’t even thought she’d be breathing the same air as the Prince of Autumn. Yet here she was, her heart skipping a beat as he shuddered at her touch. “You do know that it’s alright to allow yourself a break every now and then. You’ll worry yourself to death otherwise.”

“I’ve survived this long somehow by smothering it all down,” he replied. “Breaks usually don’t work out well for me. Bad things tend to happen when I take a break.” 

Her lips went into a thin line at his words. The ache in her chest intensified and she took in his expression and the tenseness in his shoulders but Iris knew not to push. Yesterday had been a lot for them both but for him especially. The sight of him walking into their room last night was still seared in her brain and she wanted him to feel relaxed before he could speak his mind. 

She let him sit in his reserved silence for a moment, let him be lost in the thoughts that always seemed to unsettle him until Iris couldn’t take it anymore. 

“Typical of you to think the world revolves around you and your enormous head,” she said then gently nudged gently with her elbow; it was the only part of him that reacted, forced to move with her touch. Iris frowned then laid a firm but still gentle touch to his arm. “Eris.” The sound of his name made him shift slightly. “Stop thinking for a moment and look at me, please.”

Eris quirked a brow but did as he was told, turning to fully face his lovely wife as she gazed up at him. “Happy?”

“Yes.” she said, the corner of her mouth curling up. “Hello, husband.”

His wretched heart jolted in joy at her words. Hearing her greet him this way after last night gave the word more meaning – more depth. 

As his eyes took in her beautiful face, Eris suddenly didn’t mind taking a break. A small reprieve was needed. It would be good for him. Nice, even. 

“Hello, wife.” he replied with a snort as Iris jerked her chin to the bottles in his hand.

“Were you preparing a bath for me?”

“No.” he replied immediately.

She rolled her eyes and gently took the bottles from his hands then walked past him to their enormous bathtub. She hadn’t forgotten about the few days she slept in it after their first big fight. “We just woke up, don’t start with your lies.”

Eris watched her lean over the tub and open each bottle to pour the different liquids over the running water. He felt his hands start to tingle at his sides as he watched her calmly testing the waters with her hand, itching to touch her. 

Again, that urge hit him like a sack of bricks. He immediately scowled at the ridiculousness of it all. 

As if sensing his thoughts, Iris looked over her shoulder with a shy, yet knowing smile before straightening. He continued to watch her as she returned the bottles to their places and licked his lips, watching as the steam seemed to stick the satin robe to her skin.

Her gaze dropped down to her robe, where his eyes had strayed. She couldn’t help rolling her eyes even as color bloomed on her face. “I see I’ve found the perfect way to get you to stop overthinking,” she said lightly, walking the few steps back to him and his eyes narrowed. 

“Why are you so calm about this? I just told you I regret telling you things and you’re…not offended.” he said with a wave of his hand, his tone disgruntled and she couldn’t help the twitch of her lips at his scowl. 

“Maybe it’s because I know who I’m dealing with.” she started and her tone was soft as she continued. “Because I know this is new for you…And now that I've seen you — the real you, Eris. I understand.”

Eris scoffed but the coloring in his face gave away his true thoughts and she couldn’t help the small smile as she continued, "Do you think I haven’t noticed how you are by now? You talk to no one, your trust is extremely limited, and even those that you do trust,  you cannot speak of certain things to. You've locked it all away.” Iris said quietly, her fingers gently resting on his forearm again, her touch tender. “And now I'm here, very much a part of your life in ways that neither of us expected. I'm not one of your men whose loyalty you earned. I’m not one of your hounds who can’t spill your secrets. I’m not one of your brothers who you hold at arm’s length or your mother who you barely share anything with because of your father. I’m your wife and that title carries a weight to it.”

She watched the color darken on his face the further she spoke, felt the mixed emotions come off him in waves as she squeezed his arm gently. "Not only am I your wife, I’m your mate. Someone you are not only meant to trust but are meant to confide in. And this…is a lot. For anyone. But especially for someone as secretive as you are.” 

“This is all very disturbing.” he muttered, his scowl deepening and Iris gave him a pointed look.

"I know but…it’s like a puzzle piece falling into place and I understand. I really do.” she said softly, her tone firm. “I’m not surprised at all that you're second-guessing yourself."

“You should be. I am always in control of my emotions.” he said with a sniff and Iris rolled her eyes again, shoving his arm gently. 

“Of course you are.” she said with a snort. “You also can’t murder me after sharing because it wouldn’t really go well for you as my mate.” A coy smile bloomed on her face. “And of course, you’d never let yourself die in such a cliche way. Over a female and not in a glorious battle where they would write ballads in your name.”

Eris couldn’t help but roll his eyes. “You think you’re so funny, don’t you.” 

“I’m very funny,” she confirmed and Eris watched her movements as she tied her hair into a high bun. “You just don’t like it when someone puts you in your place.”

He shook his head, his lips forming into a small, reluctant smile at her tactics. He knew what she was doing and he was…grateful. Iris always seemed to know exactly what to say to bring him a sense of peace. Maybe it would be okay for him to be…at ease with his feelings around his wife. She understood him. She saw him. They were meant for one another…he was allowed to focus on just them, wasn’t he?

He was allowed to indulge in her, wasn’t he?

“And here I was, ready to provide us with a relaxing morning and you’re being mean to me.” he muttered after a moment. “Per usual.”

“I thought you said this bath wasn’t for me?” she asked with a raised brow and he narrowed his eyes.

“It’s not. It’s for me. But I will allow you to join.” 

“Will you now?”

A pleasant tenseness bloomed between them in the room at the teasing and Eris licked his lips, taking a step towards her.

“Of course. How could I deny my wife?” he asked as Iris took a step closer. “Especially when you’ll slip out of that robe and I get to see you in all your naked glory.”

“Scoundrel.” she barely managed and turned her face towards the filled tub, her heart thumping in delight as she cleared her throat. “Bold of you to assume you get to see anything.”

“Would you be so cruel to deny me the sight of you, mate?” he teased and Iris felt herself flush deeply, that invisible string between them tugging gently on her ribcage. 

She watched the water, the aroma of the chosen oils wafting through the room as it filled with steam, and Iris gently rubbed at her neck. Eris was right of course. She did want to slip it off – if only to feel as beautiful as his eyes always seemed to make her feel. After last night, she did want to be closer to him. She wanted him near. And last night, she had been ready for him to see her.

She turned and without looking at him, Iris began, “If I did let you see…” She bit her lip, her fingers on the silk holding her robe together. “If I wanted to take a bath and wanted you to stay, would you behave?”

Eris watched her lovely face and the way she fought against her shyness. It delighted him to see this side of her, even more so than the question itself. To know that the angry wife, the one who had been afraid of him, had morphed into one that was comfortable to let herself be vulnerable with him.

He liked it so much.

“I can behave.” he answered almost too quickly and Iris glanced at him, her lips twitching. 

“Those hungry eyes of yours say otherwise.” she muttered and the corner of his mouth lifted.

“I think you like my hungry eyes.” Eris said. “Goodness knows they like you.”

Iris huffed out a laugh and shook her head but Eris kept his eyes on her as she processed how she felt. This shyness was sweet and slightly unexpected. 

“A question for a question.” he said suddenly and Iris tilted her head curiously. 

“Yes?”

“What are you thinking about right now that’s making you hesitate with me?”

Iris looked away from him. She obviously liked it when he looked at her. Iris could feel the heat coursing through her body at the thought and hated this newfound shyness. She hated it. It made her feel juvenile, like having a schoolgirl crush. As if the male before her was anything but lethal elegance. 

Was it finally her turn to lose her mind and for him to be the calm one? She could hear his heartbeat a steady rhythm in comparison to the wild beating of her own.

It was just so…bright in the daylight. Where he could see her too clearly. Was it foolish to start thinking about how many people he’d been intimate with over the years now? To compare? She had never fretted about her body before. Where had her boldness from last night gone? She hadn’t cared about all this when she’d thought about straddling him and touching him all she wanted — but this delayed sense of panic was about to hit her in full force and Iris bit her lip, narrowing her gaze at her hands to avoid looking at him.

Eris watched her with thinly veiled amusement and not for the first time, wondered if this was what he looked like whenever his emotions got the better of him. No wonder she was able to remain calm. 

But she had been his calm last night, he could be hers this morning. 

He took a step closer to her and Iris finally glanced up at him. Eris gave her a small smile as his hands gently cupped her face for a moment then slowly slid down to rest on her shoulders.

“What — what are you doing?”

“For someone who came in to check on me, you’re being awfully skittish now.” he teased with another chuckle. Eris began to soothingly rub her shoulders, his hands sliding down her arms. “Are you…feeling alright this morning?” he asked quietly and the color in her cheeks deepened as she nodded.

“I’m…alright.” 

“Liar.” he said playfully and because he rarely could help himself around her, he leaned in for a swift kiss to the corner of her mouth. A chaste kiss by his standards but it had the desired effect; her shoulders loosened. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

Iris sighed, roses blooming on her cheeks as she finally looked at him. “I’m thinking that…being with you in the daylight is a different kind of vulnerability that I wasn’t expecting to feel so…” she took a breath, trying to find the right word then huffed, waving a hand towards herself. “Like this about it.”

“Adorable? It is rather unexpected with how threatening you typically are.” he said and her expression flattened. 

“My knife is right through that door.”

“There she is.” Eris said with a smirk then laughed at her annoyed expression before pulling her into his arms and holding her against him. Iris hesitated for a moment before carefully wrapping her arms around his waist, fighting an embarrassed smile. 

He moved once more, his lips marking her temple before leaning close to her ear and whispering, “All I want to do is relax together this morning. Anything else will be up to you.” he said. “Is that alright?”

Iris met his gaze and then nodded once more, biting her lip as Eris stepped back again and slowly pulled on the sash of her robe then gently turned her around. Her heart rate quickened as her husband slid his hands to the top of her robe, similar to how she had wanted to slip it off the night before, and let it slip to expose her shoulders. 

“See how easy it slides?” he said, his voice low and Iris tried not to shiver as her hands held the robe by her chest, preventing it from fully slipping off. He leaned in and placed a delicate kiss on her shoulder and then on her neck. “It’s almost like it wants you to take it off. No shyness is necessary.” 

A breathless noise slipped from her lips and he chuckled against her neck, kissing her shoulder once more. “I’ll turn around until you get in the water.”

Iris looked at him over her shoulder, knowing the color of her cheeks had intensified then turned away with a sigh. “It’s silly, I know.” she said quietly. “After last night you’d think it would be fine but…”

Eris hummed as she trailed off. “I understand,” he said after a moment. “I’m the only one who gets to see you this way.” Eris kissed the back of her neck once more, causing her to shudder, and let his hand gently guide her by the chin to look back at him once more. “The dark makes us all a little braver but I want you to be brave with me every hour of every day.” 

Whatever hesitation she had felt fizzled out at his gaze.

Husband. Friend. Mate. 

“Do you want to see what I had picked out for you last night?” she whispered and Eris felt his heart stutter in his chest. 

“My answer will always be yes,” he murmured. “I will take whatever you’re willing to give me.”

Iris waited for a heartbeat, the flush deepening on her skin at the overwhelming sense of modesty she felt. Was this how newlyweds usually felt? Was this how it could’ve gone? 

It was so simple but so exciting. Because they could have it now. They could start over. 

Slowly, she turned to face him and with her eyes never leaving his, Iris watched Eris’s expression shift as she let the gown slip down her body to the floor, her lips twitching at the appreciative noise that came from her husband. 

She couldn’t tell whose heart was beating faster. 

Eris had always wanted her and it may have taken Iris longer to admit it, but gods did she want him too. Her body pulsed with a need she had only allowed herself to think about in her very private moments and as she watched him watch her, Iris knew it was very clear to her husband how she felt about him.

For Eris had gone rigid, every thought emptying from his head as he felt his mouth go dry at the sight of her. His wife was stunning. He couldn’t look at her for a moment without the thought crossing his mind. But the way she stood before him, in a gown hugging her figure so delicately, so much of her lovely skin on display, and her expression — the desire mixed with shyness. It would be the death of him. 

This is what had been waiting for him. Had the night gone differently — had he been able to stomach being touched more than what he had managed last night — 

His insides crumbled when she bit her lip at whatever expression she saw on his face. 

“You are so beautiful.” he whispered and her flush deepened.

“I thought you’d like it.” Iris said softly. “You seem to appreciate me in green.”

“I appreciate you in everything,” he said and stepped closer, his fingers delicately holding the silk edge of the gown, heat radiating from them both. “I look forward to the day I am privileged to appreciate you in nothing.”

Iris tried not to shudder as his eyes devoured the sight of her before him. Hungry was truly the only way to describe his gaze and she was close to letting him devour her whole. 

But she remembered his hesitation to touch. She remembered how she had reacted to his. Iris didn’t want to push but she did want him to know that his wife wanted him too.

“It could be sooner than you think,” Iris whispered and Eris shot her a smoldering look and shook his head. A pained laugh slipped his lips as he took a step back and turned from her, running his hands through his hair.

He had to take a deep breath before answering “Get in there. Before I lose my mind.”

Iris bit back a laugh, her cheeks aflame as she carefully slid the lacy slip and undergarment off her. She stood there for a moment, debating if she should say something else — if she should tell him to turn around and look his fill. Did it torture him more to look and not touch? Her eyes fell on his clenched fists and as she opened her mouth, he cut her off.

“Don’t tempt me, wife. Not yet.” he said quietly, the words a sensual promise of what he would do when he allowed himself – when he could touch her and not worry about his body stinging. 

Iris managed a small breath before making her way to the large tub, even as the tug of the mating bond told her to turn around – begged her to touch him, she forced herself forward and slowly sank into the welcoming warmth. 

She closed her eyes and couldn’t help the small groan that slipped from her lips as she sank deeper into the water and bubbles, the water stopping at her chin. The stress of yesterday slowly seeped out of her bones and she leaned back against the tub, letting herself soak in the pleasant sensations until Eris’s low chuckle flowed to her. Iris opened her eyes to find him seated on the step outside of the tub, resting his elbow on the edge just watching her.

The bubbles were a barrier between them but it didn’t stop the heat from coursing through her body, knowing that Eris could see if he wanted to and Iris knew without him saying anything, his thoughts had drifted in the same direction. 

“Do you…want to join me?” she asked softly and Eris blinked, his eyes on the water surrounding her and he swallowed hard before shaking his head.

“I want to let you enjoy it,” he said and ran a hand through his hair again. “I don’t trust myself not to ruin the moment with my hands.”

Iris glanced down at the water. “But I like your hands.” she said and looked up with a soft laugh at his groan.

“I am sincerely trying to be a gentleman and you’re making it hard not to regret the choice immediately.” he muttered and let his hand slip into the water, flicking it in her direction. 

“You? A gentleman?” Iris replied with a playful scoff, flicking water back in his direction. “Who are you and where have you gone with my husband?”

Eris rolled his eyes. “Don’t worry, he’s coming right back to deal with his wife’s sassy mouth.”

Iris tried and failed to hold back a coy smile. “I thought you liked my mouth.” 

Eris’s mouth curled as he gave her a knowing look. “Oh, I very much do. I don’t think your husband would appreciate just how much I liked it.” 

She immediately looked away from him, biting down on her lips and trying not to go into cardiac arrest. They were flirting. So easily. So openly. Her cheeks heated again at how ridiculous she felt at her reactions but it couldn’t be helped. It felt so… good. 

Iris shyly glanced at him once more to find him watching her, amusement softening his face. 

“I like the aroma choices.” she said sheepishly into the silence.

His mouth seemed to fight back a smile. “I picked your favorite scents.” 

“You noticed that?”

“I notice everything about you, wife.” 

Iris’s gaze dropped to the bubbles in front of her again, biting the inside of her cheek as her heart thumped at his words. He noticed so much about her. He saw her. 

“I never did get to tell you last night…” she began and braved a glance at his face. “Thank you for sharing all of that with me. I know it was hard.”

His expression sobered, his eyes softening in a way that thrilled her every time he let it slip. A heartbeat passed before Eris finally spoke. “Thank you for listening.” 

Oh gods. She thought as a deep flush overtook her face. This — this was new territory. These… gentle feelings. The idea of liking him so much threatened to overwhelm her, it made her want to go back to hating him.

Sensing her distress, Eris tilted his head and asked with furrowed brows. “What’s wrong?”

“We’re being so polite.” she whispered. “It’s freaking me out.”

Silence filled the room for a moment as Eris blinked at her and Iris felt her mortification expand when his lips twitched. 

Her husband’s laugh was met with her own groan of embarrassment, echoing off the walls and Iris flicked water at him again.

“Don’t laugh at me!”

“How can you expect me not to laugh? You did say you were funny.” he said with a boyish grin, leaning on his braced elbow across from her and reaching with the other hand to brush a loose curl from her face. “Give me a moment to be nice about the fact that my wife is sitting naked in a tub with me when a week ago she barely let me touch her.”

Their gazes met and Iris felt a pleasant jolt down her spine as he watched her. Attraction. Lust. Curiosity. It all mingled in that one look. So much to be said in a shared gaze. 

How long could they delay the inevitable return to reality outside of their bedroom? How long could Iris keep him to herself, unburdened like this? 

She sat up slowly in the water, and Iris would never stop loving the way his eyes watched her every move, zeroing in on the now-exposed shoulders where the water stopped. 

“Eris.” She said softly and he straightened at the shyness in her tone. That shyness. It would do him in.

“Iris.”

“You never did kiss me good morning.” She continued, a finger tracing the edge of the tub as she looked at him. “I think husbands are supposed to do that.”

His mouth was a soft smirk. “Is that so.”

Iris glanced down at the finger still tracing the edge of the tub then back to him. “Mm. I bet mates do that too.”

Eris’s head emptied at the small, coy smile, despite the flush of her cheeks. He took in her beautiful face and how a few loose strands of hair had curled to frame her face and gods, he could easily understand how people became obsessed.

“I can most definitely do that.” He said, his voice dropping. “Shall I come closer and give you the kiss you desire?”

Iris shrugged her shoulder playfully. “I hope it’s not my desire alone.”

“Never.”

A heartbeat passed then —

Iris leaned up as Eris leaned in, their lips meeting in a caress of hellos. His hand found its way to the back of her delicate neck, mindful of what happened the night before, his thumb caressing her skin as Iris brushed a hand against his face, pulling him into her. Their kiss deepened, an answer to a call that thumped beneath their skin. 

And it was always a melody that played, a tune of comfort, a song that eased their battered spirits. Eris wanted to sink in her touch and never come out. He hadn’t known a – a tenderness like this could exist. That he was worthy of it. That he deserved it.

He leaned even further, allowing Iris to lean back against the tub as she opened for him, his tongue meeting hers, and a moan slipped from her mouth that had his body heating. Eris could stay here all day, tasting her and taking more, the bond between them almost begging them to do more. 

Mine.

The word seemed to echo in his chest and before he could let himself get too carried away, Eris nipped at her lips one last time then slowly eased back as Iris watched him, bringing her hand to the rest on his still settled near her neck. 

Eris’s eyes narrowed slightly as he licked his lips, watching her face, her hand on his. “You…you are going to be a problem.”

Iris flushed prettily. She slowly moved his hand from her neck and interlaced their fingers, holding it in hers beneath the water. “But I haven’t done anything to cause problems.”

He shook his head with a short laugh. “You have witchcraft in your lips, wife. You know exactly what you’re doing.” Eris nodded towards his hand beneath the bubbles. “You seem to have ideas on where that hand should be.”

“Am I not allowed to hold your hand as my husband?”

“My hands are at your disposal, mate.”

It fell quiet between them again and Eris couldn’t help but move closer again, trying not to think about how she was holding his hand in both of hers beneath the water, resting on exposed skin. 

Skin he would want to touch, to taste — gods he wanted to —

With a sigh, he rested his forehead against the edge of the tub. “I need to find a way to stop time.” he muttered and Iris fought back a smile.

“So you could do what?”

“To do nothing. Or everything,” he replied and straightened again. “To stay like this without worrying about everything else out there.”

Iris’s expression softened and she squeezed his hand. “We’ll figure it out. It will be fine.”

Eris hummed. “I won’t allow it to be any other way.”

And before he could let himself spiral again, Iris reached out with her other hand and brushed a strand of his hair back. “Maybe we can sneak you over to the Winter Court and have you hibernate with their fuzzy bears.” 

He snorted, gently tugging his hand out of her grasp. “No thank you. I’d just melt everything and Kallias would go to war with me for ruining the environment.”

Iris chuckled softly. “At least it wouldn’t be over a petty squabble I’m sure you two have had before.” 

“No, I reserve my petty squabbles for the Night Court.”  

She shook her head with a small smile. “And you call me a problem.” Iris said, earning her a small smile from her husband. She bit her lip and had to look away at the mention of the Night Court, the conversation she had with Elain a while ago surfacing in her mind. She hesitated to bring it up and at her hesitation Eris’s brow lifted.

“Wife?”

Iris pursed her lips, pink tinting her cheeks. “A question for a question.” 

Eris leaned against their tub, his expression curious. “Mm?”

She paused once more, thinking about how to word the concern she had. “It’s about the – our mating bond.” she said quietly and Eris straightened again. 

“Yes.” he said tightly and Iris slipped a hand out of the water and gently touched his. 

“Mates…” she began and licked her lips, her finger tracing the back of his hand. “Are equals — matched in some form or another. Be it in power or standing, they are on matching grounds.” 

“And?” he asked carefully. Iris paused once more, her hand falling back into the water. 

“It doesn’t…bother you that I’m not as powerful as the other females you were interested in?” she asked quietly. “I know alliances across courts are usually rooted in power matches. You don’t feel like your father made you…settle?”  

Eris sat quietly for a moment then tilted his head as they shared a glance. “You know about Nesta Archeron then.” 

Iris nodded and Eris took a breath, feeling the back of his neck heat. 

“I wanted her for the power she had, yes. I thought that type of magic was wasted in the Night Court. Nothing more, nothing less.”

Iris’s hands twitched nervously beneath the water and she glanced down. “Ah. I see,” she said and Eris quirked a brow. “I’m sure how beautiful she is didn’t have anything to do with it.”

“She may be beautiful but…” Eris began, then reached out and lifted her chin to meet her gaze. “She has nothing on my mate.”

“Your mate who doesn’t have a fraction of your power,” she answered and Iris tried not to let this newfound insecurity chip away at her as she frowned slightly. “I think I answered my own question.” 

Eris watched her curiously for a moment. He knew navigating this side of their relationship wouldn’t be easy – the idea of being married and mated to a Prince, soon-to-be High Lord when she wasn’t used to seeing herself as important. When all she’d known was to be stifled. It didn’t surprise him that this concerned her. “Is that what you think?” 

She glanced at him then looked away, pulling back from his hand. “My abilities are only just growing. I mend and heal. Given the cutthroat nature of being part of a High Lord’s household, I’m not sure that’s going to be the kind of power match you were aiming for.” 

Eris watched for her another moment, the color in her cheeks deepening as her words hung between them. The idea that she had anything to be worried about when it came to him made him want to laugh. 

He chuckled and Iris immediately scowled. 

“If you make fun of me –”

“I don’t think you realize how matched we actually are.” he said and Iris paused. “Mates are equals, yes. But it’s not only about power.” Eris let his fingers dip in the water, heating it before flicking a little water at his wife who squirmed, flicking some right back at him. The corner of his mouth lifted. “Mates are about balance. You have a soul partner for a reason and the very core of that is a sense of stability. Peace.”

Their conversation from last night came to mind as Iris digested his words and though her cheeks were still flushed in slight embarrassment, she felt her shoulders relax. “So what you’re saying is that you and I balance each other and that’s why we’re mates?”

“I think that you underestimate how badly someone like me needed someone like you in his life.” he confessed somberly and Iris’s expression softened. 

“Someone to put you in your place?” she teased quietly and Eris chuckled.

“But of course,” he replied and held out his palm to her. “I think your healer hands were meant to find me.”

Iris bit the inside of her cheek and rested a hand on his, squeezing. “You think so?”

Eris hummed his agreement. “Fingers crossed, they don’t end up stabbing or choking me at some point, of course.” 

Iris snorted and slapped his hand. “At least you know I can fix it should I be inclined to do so.” 

“See? Balance.” he said with a wink and Iris couldn’t help her chuckle before nodding toward him. 

“Speaking of fixing…would you like me to try and fix your hair for you?”

Eris brushed a hand through his hair and then shook his head. “I have someone for that. He’ll fix me up,” he replied. “I have too much to do today and I can’t be too careful around you with a blade. With my neck exposed nonetheless.” 

Iris rolled her eyes and flicked water at him with her free hand. “You’re annoying.” was her only response and Eris shrugged with his signature smirk. “What do you have to take care of today? Can I help with anything?”

He hummed softly, thinking about how if things were different, he’d be in that bath with her. If things were different, he wouldn’t already be shuffling things in his mind trying to make up for hours he lost in the morning and get things done. If things were different, he’d look into a little cabin in the woods where he could whisk her away to – just for the two of them. If things were different, Eris would spare his mate more time to indulge in her the way he wanted. 

But again, he was patient. He would indulge when it was safe. When she wouldn’t end up on the end of a blade for his choices. Eris sighed once more, his brows furrowed in thought. “I need to check on my mother and then see Izak.”

She cocked her head. “You normally don’t mention Izak. Is something wrong with him?”

“Something is always wrong with Izak.” Eris said and smiled drily at Iris’s snort. “I didn’t get a chance to share the wonderful news Finn told me…”

[buckychristwrites]

About You | Day 10 | j.t.

Summary: Your job? Pop culture journalist for The Independent. Your assignment? To write a profile on the cocky footballer that you're publicly feuding with.

Word Count: 7.2k

Warnings: Cussing. Enemies to lovers

A/N: i regret everything nothing

Masterlist | About You Masterlist | Main Blog

Quiet music filled your flat to keep your mind focused. Without it, the silence would eat you alive. It felt like there was so much to do. Your hair was done, which was one step to check off, but now it was time for makeup. The counter in front of you was a wreck. Eyeshadow palettes, lip sticks, foundations and eyeliners were scattered across every possible surface. Despite the fact that you spent your whole day watching tutorials on how to actually apply semi-decent looking makeup for an event at this scale, you just weren’t getting it to your liking. Either the eyeshadow didn’t blend properly, or the eyeliner would mark in a way that you couldn’t fix. It just felt like every time, something had to go wrong.

With a sharp exhale, you wiped it off again to start over for the third time.

The pounding in your chest only increased when you looked at the clock. Time seemed to be going by quicker than you would’ve liked. Briefly, you considered phoning Keeley for help, but nixed that when you remembered that she would be busy setting everything up. No sense in interrupting her for something so minute.

Another thought popped into your mind: Ring Jamie? 

Of course not. The emotional support would be everything you needed. But the call from the night prior was still haunting you. It had been wildly unprofessional for you to call him in such a way when you were still writing the profile about him. It seemed that too often lately did you forget that the only reason you knew him so intimately at this point was because you were doing your job. With the ever growing feelings growing inside you (that you were reminded of every time you heard his name or saw his face) it became more and more pertinent for you to remember how journalists were supposed to act under these circumstances. And calling the interviewee to comfort you over your self esteem issues was not it.

Putting your utensils down, you stood up and examined your makeup. It had taken forever, but after intense inspection, you gave it a just barely passing grade. For a second, you picked up your brush again.

“Maybe I could fix- no,” You declared, dropping it back down. If you tried to fix it, it would only end with you starting over. There was simply no time for it.

You abandoned the makeup to give yourself a hard glare through the mirror. Leaning in, you rose a finger to the glass.

“Do NOT give Jamie all of your attention tonight,” You angrily told yourself. “You’re going to be a GOOD journalist and dance with fucking hot men all night and maybe makeout with someone. Or whatever people do at these things.” Pulling your hand away, you crossed your arms over your chest, which was covered with a fancy, expensive strapless bra. “You’re going to look amazing. You WILL NOT ogle over the one man there that you cannot have.” Pause. “Well, I guess you really can’t get with anyone on the team, can you?” You pinched your chin in thought. “NO FOOTBALLERS AT ALL THEN.” You shook your head in disgust at your reflection. “Fuckin’ slut, that’s what you are.” 

As slowly and carefully as humanly possible, you slipped the dress over your hair and head before pulling it down your torso. When you looked in the mirror, you didn’t recognize yourself. It was hard to believe that just the night before, you were worried about looking horrible. But here you were, completely done up to the nines, excited for people to see you. What a weird turn of events. You were never excited for people to see you. It’s crazy what a nice fitting dress and some makeup can do for a person.

Glancing at the clock again, you jumped back into action. Phone thrown in your tiny handbag. Shoes grabbed from the bottom of your closet. After you slipped them on, you gave yourself another once over before pointing at yourself again.

“Don’t even THINK about Jamie Tartt tonight.”

Eyes narrowed, you let the glare linger for another few seconds before rushing out of the bedroom. You grabbed your keys and the press pass, then made sure you were all ready before walking out the door. 

Your eyes were glued to your feet as you slowly walked down the stairs. You weren’t used to wearing a dress like this, and you were desperately afraid of falling. Even when you were graciously at the bottom and walking through the lobby, you were still staring at your shoes. When you opened the front door, the crisp, cool air felt amazing against your skin. Maybe a walk would be perfect. No one had to know, especially not-

You looked up to find Jamie Tartt’s wide eyes staring at you.

“Woah.”

The air was forced out of your lungs. 

He was wearing a simple tuxedo, black dress trousers and a button up with the red suit jacket thrown over his shoulder, being held up by his left hand. The white button up hugged his arms so perfectly, as if he was a statue that had been sculpted that way. His long hair was slicked back. A bowtie was perfectly tied around his neck, forcing you to wonder if he did it himself or if he had help. Behind him was a black car that you had never seen before, a driver waiting patiently in the driver’s seat.

“Jamie Tartt,” You said in a scolding voice that did not, in any way, match your expression. “What are you doing here? I told you I would drive myself.” He didn’t answer immediately, his mouth busy being slightly agape as he stared at you. He took a few careful steps forward, his eyes wandering up and down your body. You had never been more aware of his gaze as you were at this moment. The pit in your stomach grew with every moment that he was silent.

“Fuckin’ hell,” He said, shaking his head. “You’re gonna make me punch more men for you tonight, aren’t ya?” He swallowed hard before meeting your eye. “Stunnin’... just doesn’t sound like the right word to describe the way you look right now. I don’t think that word exists, to be honest.” You suddenly felt bashful, the familiar warmth returning to your cheeks.

“You didn’t answer my question.” He cocked his head to the side.

“I had a feelin’ you were gonna try walkin’,” He told you. “So I figured I’d make sure meself that you didn’t.” He lifted his eyebrows in a way that begged you to prove him wrong, but you couldn’t, because he wasn’t.

How could he read your mind? How did he know you so well? Did he know that you had told yourself not to think about him, too? Because he had also ruined that.

“Right, let’s get goin’, yeah?” He said, turning and opening the door for you. You gave him a shy smile as you walked over. When he offered you a hand to help you in the car, you felt like you were going to pass out. His fingers were toasty against the cool, early evening air. He shut the door before walking over to the other side and letting himself in. The minute his door was shut, the driver took off. 

You looked out the window as the car went. It was the perfect temperature inside, but it was that moment that you realised you never grabbed a shawl or anything to keep you warm once the sun went down. Silently, you cursed yourself.

“What’s your favourite part of these events?” You asked Jamie, turning to face him. He laughed.

“Going home after, no question,” He admitted. This made you laugh too. 

“How can you hate these things?” You asked him. “Everyone will be so excited to see you, I thought that would make you feel good.” He shook his head.

“That’s why I hate these things.” His eyes met yours. “A whole night of having to ask people for money ‘cos I’m famous and that’s the only sell I have, but that’s what makes them donate. Being bothered by girls who want The Jamie Tartt. People talkin’ to me like I’m worth somethin’ just ‘cos I can play football. Can’t I just be normal for a minute?” You pressed your lips together in a straight line.

“I’m sorry.” It was the only thing you could think of to say. He looked at you before waving it off.

“S’alright,” He said. “It’s gonna be a good time. Just too bad I can’t get drunk.” You remembered the match.

“Oh right,” You said. “The match tomorrow night.” He nodded. 

“Won’t stop me from sneaking a drink or two, though.”

The car started to slow down as it joined the line of cars waiting to drop off at Nelson Road. You peaked over Jamie’s shoulder, shocked at what you saw. 

The entrance was decorated so nicely that if you didn’t know any better, you wouldn’t have ever guessed you were going to a football pitch. Tall flowers and trees were suddenly surrounding a red carpet that led into the entrance. The place was packed with photographers, who were all parked in front of a backdrop that had logos of several businesses, charities and the AFC Richmond one, where they waited for the next star to pose in front of. 

“Keeley and Rebecca really popped the fuck off,” You said into Jamie’s ear. 

“Looks fuckin’ amazing.”

The car pulled up to where the red carpet began and came to a stop. Jamie looked over at you, giving you a tight smile.

“Ready?” You felt like you lost the ability to speak, so you just nodded in response. It didn’t seem he thought about it for a second before placing his hand on your thigh and giving you a supportive squeeze. 

Your heart jumped to your throat.

The second the door opened, the flashes from the paparazzi filled your vision like lightning. Jamie climbed out first, his hand leaving your thigh and the comfort going with it. The sound of screaming and cheers, plus the increase of lightning flashes towards the car, let you know that all eyes were on him. Hesitantly, you scooted towards the door, but you were frozen where you sat. Jamie’s frame hid you away from the cameras, and you wished you could stay behind him the whole night.

When he noticed you weren’t coming out, Jamie turned back around. You stared up at him.

Fuck, he is handsome in that suit.

He leaned towards you, his voice quiet. “I’d be honoured to be the only person who sees you tonight.” He looked deeply at you. “But I believe we all deserve a look, don’t ya think?” It took a few seconds, as you were stunned by his words, but you eventually nodded. He offered you a hand, similarly to how he had before, and you took a deep breath. He wrapped his fingers around yours before smiling at you.

“That’s a good choice, love.”

He turned just in time to miss your eyes widen at the now second time he called you that. 

Stepping to the side, Jamie helped you climb out of the car. The camera flashes were even brighter outside of the car, but when you peaked at Jamie, he was looking around as if this was just another day. How did someone get used to this?

You made your way down the carpet, Jamie following behind you. Just over the noise, you could make out someone calling your name. You had to look over the shoulders of some tall men, but you finally spotted Keeley making her way towards you. She looked gorgeous in an indigo ball gown style dress, her hair curly and sleek. You could tell she was sporting some high heels, though you couldn’t see them, just by the way she was running/hobbling towards you. Grabbing your shoulders, she planted a kiss on both of your cheeks.

“You look so gorgeous,” She said as she pulled away. “I’m so glad you could make it.” 

“I wouldn’t have missed it!” You exclaimed, pulling away to look at her. “And you look absolutely beautiful, Keeley. This is fucking amazing.You did a wonderful job on this!” She leaned in.

“Just wait until you see the party area,” She said, smiling wide as she went to greet Jamie with a hug and kiss on the cheek. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Roy Kent approach. In a surprising turn of events, Roy was wearing a black tuxedo with a black button up underneath. 

“Roy,” You said in greeting. “Looking as handsome as ever.” The actual surprise of this moment was him actually smiling at you before leaning down and kissing your cheek. 

“You look lovely,” He said, lowering his voice before adding, “Tartt picked a good one, didn’t he?” All of the blood in your body rushed to your cheeks as Roy turned and gave Jamie a hug, as if everything was normal and he hadn’t just left you absolutely stunned by the whole interaction. 

“He’s had a few drinks already,” Keeley whispered to you as the both of you watched her boyfriend, who was laughing at something Jamie said. “Makes him a little nicer, doesn’t it?” 

“So much nicer!” You exclaimed. The men made their way to the photographer area, leaving you to watch Jamie’s receding back as he went, him turning back once to give you a supportive grin. You nervously returned it. Keeley’s name was called in the distance. 

“Sorry! I’ll see you in a bit,” She said, giving your hand a squeeze before rushing off. 

You felt like a lost puppy, suddenly alone as you looked around. Sighing, you took out your phone and press pass. That must mean it’s time to get to work. You began to walk around, looking for a friendly face, but one found you first. Someone in the distance called your name. When you turned, Sam Obisanya was waving to you. 

“Hey!” You called, pushing through a crowd to make your way towards him. He raised his arms out to you, and you allowed yourself to be enveloped by them. 

“You look absolutely beautiful, my friend,” He said, shaking his head. You popped your leg out of the slit, making him laugh loudly. 

“Would you care to give a comment on what you hope to accomplish tonight?” You asked, lifting your phone. He smiled as if confused before answering. 

“I hope that we as a team are able to make change for the homeless youth of our great city tonight,” He said. “We have the power to make a difference, and I am proud to play for a team that uses that power.” You stopped recording and pulled your phone away.

“That was lovely, Sam. Thank you!” You were quite surprised when he laughed.

“Sorry to laugh,” He said, waving his hand. “I just forgot that you were a journalist.” When your eyebrows knitted together, he elaborated. “I have just come to think of you as one of the team, since you are always around, and you do not treat us like most journalists do.” You grinned widely at him.

“Richmond has definitely made an impact on me that I won’t ever forget,” You told him. Looking behind you, he bumped your hip with his own before nodding in that direction.

“Some more than others, yes?”

You turned to see Jamie posing for the cameras with Roy, Dani and Coach Beard. He had put his jacket on, and now you could see the black collar against the red jacket. You stared for a beat too long, and when you turned back to Sam, he was smiling at you in the way that you had seen too often from too many people now. 

“Be nice, Sam,” You warned, rolling your eyes playfully. “Shouldn’t you be schmoozing someone for money or something?” He laughed as he walked away, giving you a salute before turning. You watched him go, shaking your head before turning around and making your way to…wherever you ended up next. You looked around, trying to find someone who wasn’t busy talking or having their picture taken. You found it incredibly rude when journalists interrupted conversations for a soundbite, but you wondered if that was just how things had to happen. 

“Looking lovely, as predicted,” A voice from behind you said. You turned to reveal Isaac, who was smiling down at you. You leaned up and kissed his cheek.

“Isaac! You look so proper!” Indeed he did, with his bright royal blue suit. He posed for you, and you appeased him with a photo. Switching back to the recording app, you lifted your phone. “Would you like to comment on what AFC Richmond is doing here tonight?”

“Homelessness is bad,” He said simply. “Homelessness as a youth is worse. Please donate if you can.” 

“Simple, but to the point,” You remarked. “Thanks, Isaac.” He nodded, smiling before turning and walking off. 

You made your way inside, following the directions of the well dressed stadium workers in order to get to the correct area. You thanked every one of them as you made your way. When the directions led you towards the pitch, you grew sceptical. But once you opened the door to let yourself out, you swallowed all doubt, your mouth falling open.

In the middle of the pitch was a large, low step patio that was so large, it had a bar top, a DJ booth, a dance floor, and dozens and dozens of tables and chairs. Three sides were covered with white tent walls, while the side facing you was completely open, more red carpeting laid out from the door you stood at to the patio. The stadium lights were turned on as the sun was going down, but the lighting inside the tent was a deep red. Enough to see, but dark enough to create a mysterious ambiance. Even from a distance, you could see the star decorations hanging from the ceilings, and plants scattered throughout. It was so elegant, you couldn’t stop staring.

As you slowly made your way across, you made out silhouettes inside already. Music got louder as you approached. You were careful when you stepped up to not fall. The red lighting looked even more insane when you were standing in them. You hoped Keeley was getting paid so much money for this, the tiny fucking genius. 

You made your way to the bar and ordered a drink. While you waited, you looked around, bobbing your head to the music. None of the people around appeared to be people you knew, though it was harder to tell. The bartender smiled at you as she placed the vodka cranberry on the bartop and slid it towards you. 

“Thank you!” You said, tipping the drink towards her before taking a sip. A little strong, but still good. Part of you was incredibly thankful for the open bar. 

“There ya are.”

You turned to see Jamie walking towards you. His jacket was once again off and thrown over his shoulder. It was as if your mouth just couldn’t help but break into a smile when you saw him. Maybe it was the alcohol. You had, after all, just had a very large sip, and though there was no way it could already be making you tipsy, it still had to be the cause. That could be the only explanation. 

“How was interviewing?” You asked him. He blew a raspberry before leaning on the bartop.

“I ain’t doin’ any of that,” He said. Your eyebrows hit your hairline as the bartender approached him. “Double whiskey please.” You leaned towards him, taking a sip from your drink.

“First of all, Keeley will kill you if you don’t do any interviews,” You said to him quietly. “Second of all, did you forget you have a match tomorrow?” He blew another raspberry.

“When in Rome,” He said, clinking his glass against yours before tipping his head back and drinking half the glass. He exhaled happily when he brought the glass down from his mouth. “What’cha drinkin’?” He peeked into your glass. “I can’t tell from the fuckin’ lights in here.”

“Vodka cranberry,” You told him, taking another sip. He looked surprised.

“Look who’s gettin’ drunk tonight,” He said. “It’ll be my turn to drive you to your flat tonight.” You took another large gulp of your drink. He went to do the same.

“Technically, to return the favour entirely, you’d have to drive me to your place and host me.” He paused, the glass just on the tip of his lips. Without taking a drink, he lowered the drink.

“Would you be walkin’ naked around me house too?” He asked jokingly.

Was it the drink in your veins or the confidence the dress gave you? You weren’t sure, but something caused you to say. “Would you want me to?” 

The tiny smile on his face disappeared, and his expression became unreadable. When he took a step towards you, your breath got caught in your throat. He opened his mouth to speak when-

“Jamie!” You both turned to see Keeley storming towards the both of you, shouting your name as well. Jamie stepped away from you as you chugged the rest of your drink. She stopped in front of the both of you, looking distressed. “You won’t believe who is here.” You and Jamie exchanged a look before turning back to her. 

“Who?” Jamie asked. 

“Shandy!” She exclaimed, her face so sullen that you were also upset about this person you didn’t know. “She got her invite before I fired her, I couldn’t stop her from getting in.” She looked around. “I’m worried she’s going to do something horrid. You know what she did to my office.” You stared between the two of them, waiting for elaboration, but it never came.

“Can’t you have security remove her?” Jamie asked, looking at you with a look of apology for the interruption. Keeley was shaking her head, but from her face, it was clear she wasn’t really listening to him. 

“Help me find Roy, please,” She said, grabbing his sleeve and dragging him away. You watched her back and Jamie’s slouching shoulders disappear into the crowd. Your heart was still beating out of your chest as you were desperate to know what would’ve happened if Keeley hadn’t run over. What was he about to say?

You shook your head as you remembered what you had told yourself in the mirror. This night isn’t about Jamie. Don’t even think about him.

“Can I have another please?” You asked the bartender as you turned back around. She quickly obliged, another being placed before you in no time. This time, you grabbed your drink and began to wander. 

You had a bit of a sway to your step as you walked around, sipping your drink. The crowd out on the pitch had grown significantly since you had initially made your way over, especially in the bar area, as everyone was just starting their alcoholic journey of the evening. The dance floor was lacking, as again, most people weren’t drunk enough to feel in the mood. But as you finished your second drink, you found yourself setting the empty glass down and making your way over. You didn’t recognize the song playing, but you liked it enough to join the handful of people and begin to dance yourself. 

You turned to see Dani Rojas creeping over, swaying his hips and smiling at you.

“Dani Rojas!” You yelled, throwing your hands up. He mirrored you, shouting your name back at you as the two of you danced like old friends and goofballs together. Quick to join was Collin, who was followed by Isaac. You laughed loudly at them, clapping your hands at the way they danced. Richard and Bumbercatch were watching from the sidelines, each with a beer in hand, but it didn’t take them long to join, either. Normally, you would feel silly, dancing like this. But with the team dancing however they wanted, you suddenly forgot that there could be anything worth getting embarrassed about. 

When Coach Beard joined, everyone cheered loudly. He threw his jacket to the side and began to dance wildly. Even Roy, who was even more inebriated than before, came over and danced, though not as intensely as everyone else. Seeing him reminded you of Keeley, which reminded you of Jamie. When you looked to the side of the dance floor, you saw Jamie watching the team dance party. He had another drink in his hand that he had finished off as you began to break from the dance circle. 

“Havin’ fun?” He asked with a smirk as you approached. You took the glass from his hands and set it down.

“Be more fun if you joined,” You told him as you took his hand and pulled him to the dance floor. It took him a second to relax, but soon enough, the two of you were dancing together while amongst the team. You couldn’t help but laugh, and he was doing the same. It definitely was the alcohol that made it seem like the music was filling your veins.

When the song changed to a slow one, everyone groaned and began to evacuate. As you turned to leave, Jamie grabbed your hand. His eyes were anxious when you turned to meet them.

“Dance with me?”

Your answer was immediate.

“Sure.”

He led you to the middle. He placed a hand on your left hip, his other cradling your right one. You folded your fingers down to cover his. You knew you’d heard the song before, the beat familiar as you swayed along with him, but you couldn’t for the life of you remember the name.

“Did Keeley solve the Shandy problem?” You asked him. He was so close that you were able to talk to each other without yelling.

“I don’t think so,” He said. “She didn’t want to cause a scene by gettin’ security, but she also doesn’t want to confront her and cause a scene. It’s a mess.” You nodded. 

“I hope she’s able to figure it out,” You told him. “She did an amazing job on all this. Be a shame for someone like Shandy to ruin it for her.” He nodded in agreement. 

The alcohol was starting to take effect now, your head feeling lighter. You wanted to lay your head down on Jamie’s shoulder, but decided not to. A strand of Jamie’s hair had fallen down his forehead from the dancing. He showed no indication of knowing it was there. You picked your hand up off his shoulder and tenderly brushed it back into place, letting your fingers swipe gently across his forehead. His eyes never left your face as you did this. 

“There,” You said quietly, once you were satisfied. “Not a hair out of place now.” You giggled at your joke, but all he shook his head slightly.

“You really have no idea what you’re doin’ to me, do you?” He asked in a whisper. When did his face get so close to yours? Or was it always that close? It wasn’t until now that you noticed his warm breath on your face, smelling of spearmint and whiskey. 

“What am I doing to you, Jamie Tartt?” 

He opened his mouth to speak, but then, Keeley appeared on the stage and grabbed the microphone.

“Good evening everyone!” She said excitedly. “Thank you so much for joining myself and all of AFC Richmond for out first ever Charity Gala!”

Jamie and you watched her for a moment before realising that the two of you were still positioned to dance, the only movement being your held hands had fallen to the side. He reluctantly pulled away from you, turning with his hands in his pockets. It had to have been the night air that made you suddenly so cold, and not the void Jamie’s absence left.

You put a hand on his bicep, making him lean his head towards you.

“I’m going to get another drink,” You told him, mouth almost against his ear. “I’ll be right back.” He nodded, seeming to be frustrated and unable to make eye contact with you. Feeling slighted, you made your way through the crowd towards the bar. There, sitting at one of the stools and facing the stage, was Roy Kent, sipping on a whiskey. His eyes followed you as you took the spot next to him and hailed down the bartender.

“Are you two ever going to admit your feelings or am I going to have to watch this sadness forever?” He asked through slurred words. 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Roy,” You said to him, looking away from him as the bartender handed you your drink. 

“Please,” He said, shaking his head. “Anyone who has eyes sees how the two of you look at each other.” You shrugged casually, taking a large drink from your cup.

“I look at him no differently than I look at you,” You declared. His eyebrows shot upward.

“Well, you better hope Keeley never sees you lookin’ at me then,” He said. “She’s got a mean punch, that one.” You rolled your eyes before walking away. 

Keeley’s speech was over, but you couldn’t find Jamie. Not on the dancefloor, not by the bar, not at the buffet tables. On a random chair that you almost blew passed, you found Jamie’s red jacket. With a smile, you grabbed it and threw your arms through the sleeves, your drunken brain taking considerably much longer to do so than your sober brain would. Inside was a pocket large enough to fit your small clutch. Feeling incredibly accomplished, you continued on. You found yourself wandering outside, continuing to sip on your drink as you peeked at every face in an effort to find him. 

“You okay?” Sam asked when walking passed him just outside the door you had come out from. Normally, you’d have no issue asking Sam for help, but he had an unfamiliar lady on his arm, making you smirk at him.

“Nope!” You said, raising both hands up. “Perfectly fine. Go on with your evening.” He winked at you before turning and walking off with his lady friend. You proudly watched him leave before turning. Initially, you planned to go through the designated entrance, but when you looked over, you saw the tunnel that went directly to the changing rooms. Before walking on the grass, you slipped your shoes off and carried them in one hand, your drink in the other. The grass felt amazing against your feet. Or was that just the alcohol talking? Probably.

The lights were on when you entered. It was so blissfully quiet as you wandered around, reading every name placard. You paused at Jamie’s locker in the corner. When you looked away, you saw the yellow Believe sign hanging over the door to the coach’s office. You stared at it for a while, it making you feel some type of way. Maybe that was the point of it. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw movement in the boot room, which did not have the lights on. You opened the door and went to the right side of the shelves where you found Will the kit man, folding kits and setting them out.

“Will!” You exclaimed. He jumped, whirling around to face you. You lifted the hand that held your shoes in question. “What are you doing in the dark? Why are you doing the wash? It’s a party!” He looked embarrassed at the fact that he had been caught. 

“I just was getting this done right quick,” He told you. Taking the opportunity, you sat down in the corner between the open cubbies and the wall. Though you couldn’t see the door, you could still see out the window into the changing room.

“Well, I’m just gonna have a sit and then I’ll be out of your hair,” You told him. Another sip of your drink went down your mouth. It was obvious that Will was anxious by your presence, so you decided not to say anything more, instead just enjoying the quick break before heading back out. You hummed one of the songs that had been playing earlier while finishing your drink. Will looked at you out of the corner of his eye. This almost made you quiet down, until you noticed that this seemed to calm him. 

From the other side of the door, you saw it open, and in came Jamie, glancing around as if he was looking for someone. Will turned to look as well.

“I should probably-” You went to rise but froze when another figure had followed him in. It was a beautiful girl with tan skin and long, beautiful hair. She was wearing a long, one sleeved, hot pink dress with a deep cut for cleavage and an opening around her midriff. You had never seen her before. They were talking, but there was no way for you to know what was being said. 

“Will,” You said in a quiet voice. “Who’s that?” 

“That’s Shandy,” He told you. “She used to work for Keeley. Always flirted with Jamie when she saw him.” He shook his head. “She is awful, that one.”

Your heart fell into your stomach when you saw Shandy approach Jamie, her arm wrapping around him. From your place on the bench, you couldn’t tell where his hands were. Your brain was screaming at you to look away, but you just couldn’t.

Will sat down next to you, placing a hand on your forearm. He said nothing, but he didn’t need to. As you turned to him and opened your mouth to thank him, the door to the boot room was thrown open, bouncing against the wall before the soft close mechanism kicked in. 

“You ever had your cocked sucked in here, Tartt?” Shandy asked as she pulled him towards the other side of the shelves, opposite of where you and Will sat. You lowered yourself down, suddenly feeling incredibly sober. She turned to face him, getting incredibly close. “I hear a lot of magic happens here… let’s create our own. What do you think?” You could see Jamie from the other side of the shelves thanks to the open backed cubbies, and you could see the tension in his jaw.

“Shandy-”

She grabbed his shirt, pulling him closer. 

“Jamie, Jamie, Jamie,” She said as she untied his tie until it was out of the neat little bow. She held both ends in her hands, pulling him closer to him. “What can you do, Jamie Tartt? What makes you special? Besides your lovely face and sexy body?” She began to sing. “Jamie Tartt dodo dodo dodo, Jamie Tartt dodo dodo dodo, Jamie Tartt dodo dodo dodo…” She was centimetres from his mouth as she whispered, “Jamie Tartt.” When she planted a deep kiss on his mouth, you felt the urge to cry.

It was the fact that he didn’t push her away that made the tears spill over.

You looked down at the floor, finally deciding it was time to look away.  Will’s hand squeezed your arm, reminding you that it was there. The weight of Jamie’s jacket seemed to increase at that moment, but you didn’t want to risk moving to take it off. The sound of them kissing was so loud. Why was it so loud when two people kissed? It was so tempting to interrupt them. To shout, or kick something over. But instead, you sat still. Who were you to do that? Just a stupid girl who read into things too hard. The only plus side to this was now you could tell Roy that he was wrong all along.

You looked around for an exit when you spotted the door just across from the shelf that hid the two of you. Nudging Will, you pointed towards it. A lightbulb seemed to go off in his head as he slowly stood and made his way over. He did his best to not let it creak, seeming to be successful when no changes came from the other side of the shelf. The sight of the hallway on the other side of the door was a welcome one.

Slowly standing, you began to tiptoe across the floor.

I LIKE BIG BUTTS AND I CANNOT LIE. YOU OTHER BROTHERS CAN’T DENY THAT WHEN A GIRL WALKS…

You stared wide eyed at Will, who met your gaze with an equal look of terror before fumbling for his phone, the source of the intrusion. It was too late though, for the kissing sounds had stopped. Your eyes closed.

“Who the fuck is in here?” She demanded as she rounded the corner. Her eyes fell on Will and you, her expression a mix of anger and disgust. “Who the fuck are you two?” Followed behind her was Jamie, who’s eyes fell on you, changing his entire expression. You let your arms fall limp at your sides. 

“Absolute fuckin’ perverts,” Shandy shrieked. “I’ll be callin’ security on the both of you.” Rolling your eyes, you turned and walked out of the door, Will still holding it open as he had just gotten his phone to stop ringing. 

Though your brain was feeling sober, your body hadn’t quite caught up, for it was stumbling down the hall of the Nelson Road stadium as you tried to escape. It felt like the air was a gas that was suffocating you, crawling into your lungs and not allowing oxygen to enter. When you pushed the door open to the outdoors, you almost fell onto the sidewalk, but you caught yourself on the wall. 

Give yourself a second, you told yourself. Just breathe.

Slowly inching up the wall, you were standing straight again. You continued to hold the wall and get your breathing under control for a minute before you let go and began to walk. In. Hold. Out. In. Hold. Out.

The cool sidewalk felt amazing against your bare feet, spare the occasional pebble that would dig into the soles. It didn’t matter though. You’d walk through a thousand pebbles right now if it meant you got home faster.

Far behind you, that familiar Mancunian accent yelled out your name. You stumbled into the road despite the sign saying Do Not Walk. A car slammed on their breaks, blaring their horn, but you continued to walk as if nothing had happened. He yelled your name again, this time a little more forcefully, which suggested he was running. Tears began to fill your eyes once more.

Please, You begged. Please, not now.

“Hey.” His voice was right behind you. A hand grabbed your bicep, causing you to instinctively rip it from the grip. When you turned, Jamie’s face was a mixed bag of emotions; Guilt, confusion, desperation. He said your name again, this time a whisper. “Please let me explain.”

You tiredly shook your head. “I just want to go home, Jamie.” It made you furious that your words were still slurring. When you turned to leave, he ran in front of you to block your way.

“Please!” He exclaimed, choking up. “I wanted nothin’ to do with Shandy. She was all over me-” 

“It’s really none of my business,” You said, waving your hands while stepping backwards. “I’m just a journalist who is writing a profile on you. What you do outside of work, and what I do outside of work, doesn’t affect the other at all.” He feverishly shook his head.

“You have to know that you’re more than that,” He said in disbelief. “You can’t possibly still think that’s the only way I view you.” He ran a hand down his face. Your head fell to the side. 

“I don’t know what I think, Jamie.”

You walked around him and continued down the sidewalk. For a minute, you wondered if he was going to let you go. Which would be worse? If he followed? Or if he didn’t?

“At least let me give you a ride,” He called out, weakly.

“We’re already almost there,” You yelled back. “No point in going back for the car now.” 

You kept walking, and though he didn’t say anything, you were painfully aware of the fact that Jamie was following you. You had to give him props for not letting you walk home, drunk and alone. But you couldn’t possibly deal with the night’s events through the drunken lens. You needed a shower and sleep, and then maybe sober you would be able to deal with it. 

When your building came into view, a sign of relief tumbled from your lips and fresh tears streamed down your face. You picked up the pace to get inside, throwing the door open and rushing up the stairs. The sound of the door opening a second time alerted you that Jamie was not going to stop outside. He was taking the steps two at a time to keep up with you. 

When you reached the door of your flat, you quickly grabbed your little purse from the jacket pocket and searched for your keys. Jamie was a few feet away, leaning against the wall. 

“You can go now,” You said exasperatedly. “I’m clearly home safe.” He said your name in a low tone, pushing off the wall and taking a step towards you. More tears streamed down your face.

“I don’t want to leave ya like this,” He said. “Please. Please, let’s just talk this out.” You finally got a hold of your keys, throwing the one to your flat in the lock.

“Please, Jamie,” You whispered. “I just want to go to bed.” The door unlocked and you stepped inside. 

“I don’t even like Shandy!” He exclaimed. You were full on crying now as you dropped your shoes on the ground.

“I’ll see you at the match,” You said in a broken voice. At this, he went to step forward, his own face beginning to crumble, but you were too quick as you closed and locked the door. In the safety of your own flat, you allowed yourself to break, your hands pressed against the door as you released every emotion you had been holding in between now and when you saw Jamie and Shandy. You turned and let your back hit the door, sliding down and curling into yourself. 

It was there you sat, your knees to your chest and head cradled in your arms with quiet sobs into Jamie’s jacket being the only sound for a long time. Eventually, you got up and dragged yourself to the bedroom, where you left the dress and coat abandoned on the floor, and curled into bed for a night of restless sleep.

If only you had listened to yourself. If only you hadn’t thought about Jamie.

[alchemistc]

WIP Wednesday

tagged by @liminalmemories21, who Doesn't Go Here but whom I am going to try to tempt further into the fold by choosing a hockey heavy snippet just for funsies. Just to see. Also I couldn't decide where to clip this so... enjoy like a whole game.

Tommy shifts his weight and settles the nerves, accepts the smack to the back of his helmet, and watches Binnington throw a fit between the pipes when the stripes don’t call the puck trickling in behind his net an icing.

They’re five minutes in and everyone’s getting testy. He can feel it.

This is where Tommy does his best work. It’d been a task, ten years ago, a part of the job he’d accepted because he was good in a fight and fully capable of taking a few punches. Under the thumb of the old boys club it’d just been expected of him — the ability to throw his weight around was what had kept him from complete obscurity in a lower league that would have worn him down much sooner. Tommy’s fists and his ability to twist his shoulder just in time to knock a guy flat on his ass were the only things that mattered when his agent settled him down with two offers and he’d chosen the team most likely to make his dad proud.

Never mind that his dad had come to three games when Tommy was a bright eyed-rookie, seen Tommy get his ass handed to him by a man twice his size, and stopped bothering to show up.

He’d turned that around, in recent years. Longer stints with the affiliate teams, less time under the microscopic eye of the national press (even as a role player he’d had his moments under that eye) — he’d learned when to pull his punches, when to turn the other cheek, and when to lock his ankles and aim for the fucking chest. He had friends up and down the continent who knew him as the guy who’d take them all out to dinner after a bad loss, find something stupid and entertaining for them to do after, and then go into the next game with a chip on his fucking shoulder.

There were three kids with insane star power in the league who had him on speed dial even though he hadn’t played with them for a year or more, because for some fucking reason he had the ability to talk them off a ledge when the pressure drove them towards it.

He’d never tell a soul that Crosby still sent him gym selfies so they could compare the relative size and plumpness of their ass during the offseason.

There was still a reverence for real enforcers, in the league, even if they’d fallen by the wayside as teams got smaller and quicker. They were more a deterrent than anything else these days, but that usually meant Tommy got to lumber around on the ice for a few minutes a game, remembering what it had felt like the first time he’d laced his skates and stepped out to a roaring crowd, before he took another dumb penalty and spent the next forty-five minutes riding the bench. He’d been instructed not to take any dumb penalties, tonight, because St. Louis didn’t tend to get sloppy until the game was on the line.

Thirty-six minutes in, Schenn takes a chop at Diaz’s knee under the guise of a poke check and the home crowd gets loud, and ornery.

Nash smacks him on the shoulder on their way back down the tunnel for the third, eyes a little wild, and Tommy immediately recalls the old highlight reels of Nash shaking hair out of his eyes while he squared off against a guy twice his size, motor-mouthing his way into getting the other guy to take the first swing. Minnesotans and their right hooks weren’t something to fuck around with. Too much time in the cold not to have a little crazy in them.

Tommy rolls his tongue over his teeth, tilts his head to where Diaz and Buckley are bent over the boards together on the bench, already prepared to hop out the moment Bannister tries to get a match-up that’ll tilt in the Blues favor.

Nash sends him out with the rest of the fourth line, and Tommy doesn’t waste any time.

It’s immediately clear that they’ve all been warned to keep level heads. Schenn won’t engage, Buchnevich barely acknowledges Tommy when he hip checks him into his own bench — he goes ass over tea kettle and Tommy gets nothing more than a few shifty looks and some smack talk from the guys sitting.

There’s an easy way around that, though.

Tommy clambers back over the boards and waits out his next shift, practically vibrating with it when a shot pings off the crossbar and Greenway skates right through Binnington’s crease chasing after it.

Kyrou tries to take out Buckley against the boards, looks livid when Buck skates just free of it, and Buck does some ankle breaking in a rush to the goal. It hits the post, and when the whistle gets blown fifteen seconds later Tommy watches level heads not prevail when Binner says something snippy to Kyrou that has him rolling his eyes on the way back to the bench.

It takes another minute and a half for Nash to set up the line matches the way he wants them, but as Greenway skates off for relief and Schenn’s line stays stuck in their own zone spinning their wheels, Bobby smacks a thick hand down on Tommy’s shoulder. “Kinard, you’re up!”

Tommy takes an awkward pass once he’s past the blue line and goes full tilt towards the net. Full tilt for Tommy isn’t anything special, but it’s not what the Blues are expecting, and most of them have been out for two plus minutes at this point, hemmed in by their third and fourth lines just shoveling the puck back in every time it nears the blue line.

The snow shower he aims at the goal, half an inch into the crease when he fully stops, isn’t anything to write home about, but it has it’s intended effect. Already short on patience, Binnington watches Schenn intercept and send the puck careening down the ice — a third icing in a row — and lashes out with the butt end of his stick, a glancing blow Tommy laughs at as the rest of the players start to circle up at the whistle. Tommy’s laugh pisses him off. The laugh pisses him off so much.

It’s so fucking easy to rattle him with he’s already two goals down. There’s some shoving, a few hockey hugs to keep things from escalating, but Panikkar has apparently cottoned on to Tommy’s plan, and he says something under his breath that has Sundquist in his face, and Binnington skating around behind the net in irritation while the zebras break up a few of the more reticent shoving matches.

Tommy wins about one face-off out of every fifty, but that’s not the reason he’s bending across from Schenn now at the circle.

“We could end this before he loses all his cool and breaks his stick on the pipes,” Tommy goads, and the linesman with the puck rolls his eyes towards Schenn. The other man shifts, readjusts the grip on his stick. “Or I could just keep taunting him for something that isn’t even his fault, this time.”

Schenn’s not a particularly bad dude, just a little gun shy about fighting when his coach has clearly told them all not to engage.

Tommy wants him to fucking engage.

Schenn waits for the puck to drop, and miraculously, it’s Tommy who scoops it up to a fresh-faced Buckley just in time for the man to wind up and sneak it through about four bodies on it’s way over Binnington’s shoulder.

It takes Tommy a few breathless seconds to remember to skate in and hug the rest of his team, and another five to realize that technically the assist is his. He stopped caring about stats so much the second year in a row that his time in the box exceeded his time on ice for more than five games out of the season, but it sits there, in the back of his mind, his name next to Buckley’s on the score sheet.

And then Schenn gets sloppy again, a check into the boards that has Panikkar limping back towards the bench while the crowd boos the refs, and Tommy doesn’t give Schenn any time to think about it when Nash sends him out in the immediate chaos.

He catches Kyrou mid-ice with his head down, a shoulder right to the chest that sends him reeling back, skates leaving the ground as he crashes backwards, and Schenn is on him in the next five seconds, gloves off and a resigned look in his eyes. Tommy grins and shifts his weight back, tossing his own gloves and reaching for the neck of Schenn’s sweater.

i know it's late so consider this a no pressure tag for Thursday Tidbits: @beefcakekinard @rcmclachlan @kirkaut @xofemeraldstars @princessfbi

[evesaintyves]

so in the allegedly non-homophobic spirit of this cursed genre of post (which, props to this one for at least saying the quiet part loud: that these criticisms are exclusively directed toward queer pairings), and inspired by a prompt of sorts from fandom gem @saintsenara -

i wrote some platonic jily and i completely agree, they're better as friends.

never mind the prosecco, here's the potter-malfoy-potter-blacks

Rated M | Jily, Narlily, Jegulus, Drarry | AU - everyone lives and it's like 2010 | tw choking, pussy juice, eggs

Three things occurred to Lily, leaning back on the island of cool italian marble in the fuck-off big kitchen of this ridiculous house: one, that she had no idea where all this was coming from, as James had never given a single fuck in his life about womens' Quidditch; two, that even three decades after they'd split up he was still obviously desperate for her to think he was cool; and three, that he was burning Regulus's eggs.

"So what the Harpies have done," he patiently explained as if she was listening, "is create a turn-based system for rotating positions—so every player has experience with beating, seeking, and so on—that way everyone's aware of the weak points—" he seemed to catch on that she wasn't making eye-contact, and tossed his mop of silvering hair. "The Weasley girl was on the Wireless about it this morning. Really inspiring."

He turned back to the crispy eggs and stirred them vigourously. They made a sort of crackling noise.

"I guess I'm just not sure why you're telling me," Lily said, taking the moment to finally do what she'd come to the kitchen for: grabbing a fresh bottle of prosecco from the fridge.

"Well, it's incredible what these girls are coming up with. 'The future is female,' I saw that on someone's shirt the other day."

He glanced eagerly at her over his shoulder.

"Cool," she said.

"Never mind the prosecco," Narcissa drawled, sweeping into the kitchen in her marabou-feather gown. "Draco's popped a button on his robes, so he'll be calling any moment."

"Do you mend buttons?" James asked with genuine interest.

Narcissa made an appalled face and gathered the lapels of her robe together.

"Have you not finished?" Regulus said sourly, coming down the stairs. Looking directly at Lily, he added, "This kitchen has smelled like a crematorium ever since you let Boopsy go."

Lily - still on the defensive after all these years! - crossed her arms and replied, "I didn't 'let her go,' she was legally emancipated and got a job at Pret a Manger."

Regulus waved a hand in the air, making the slight haze of egg-smoke swirl prettily in the light. "It's political correctness gone mad," he muttered.

Inexplicably, James got one of his big simpy grins, beckoned Regulus over, and smacked a kiss on his pale brow.

Draco apparated into their midst with a pop and instantly recoiled at the sight of them.

"Potters," he spat, by way of greeting. "Er—" he nodded to Regulus, whose name he could never seem to remember. Narcissa glided over and took his face in her hands.

"Oh, darling, come here, I've been waiting all morning to see you."

Lily, concerned she might not be effectively controlling her facial expression, turned to slot the prosecco bottle back into the fridge. Narcissa had actually spent most of the morning sprawled on her back with her thighs squishing the sides of Lily's face.

Draco squirmed slightly under his mother's hands. "It's all the buttons under the third one," he said gruffly, thrusting an armful of jacquard robes at Narcissa.

"Sweet boy," Narcissa cooed, "I'll send it out to the tailor immediately. How ever did you manage to break them?"

With another pop, Harry apparated into the room.

"Hi Mum," he said. "Dad. Hi Cissa and Reg."

James disentangled his arms from Regulus's and clapped Harry on the back. "Wha gwan, son?" he roared happily, and even with his back turned Lily could see Harry's shoulders cringe.

"I told you—" Draco began through his teeth.

"You were taking forever," Harry shrugged.

"I'm glad you're here," James said, very serious furrows appearing in his brow. "I was just listening to that bird you used to go out with on the wireless—"

"Oh!" Narcissa exclaimed, still petting Draco's face. "Darling, will you show everyone the trick you taught me last week?" To the room: "You'll all want to see this, it's marvellous. Draco's enchanted a mirror to do something incredible."

Draco sighed defeatedly. To Harry, he said, "Let me see your phone."

Harry pulled a slim black piece of glass out of his pocket, and, with a sideways glance at Lily, tapped and swiped at it with his fingers a few times before handing it to Draco.

"This mirror," Narcissa was saying, "quite remarkable, really—all you do is push a button on it, and a horrible little muggle comes to your door and brings you a prawn fettucine. Draco, please—" she scrabbled at the glass in his hand. "—will you push the fettucine button for mummy?"

"It's called Seamless, Mother," Draco mumbled, and just as he did Narcissa pulled a face and slid her finger round the collar of her son's shirt.

"Draco," she said, with a kind of horror rising in her voice, "What's happened to your neck? Is it dirt—?"

A flush instantly came to Draco's face and Harry twisted round from his one-sided conversation with James to give Draco a rather pointed look.

"Mother, stop, it's nothing," he said, pulling away. And on Harry's face was a look Lily had seen on James a thousand times, back in their day: like he was trying, but not particularly hard, not to look smug.

James's eyes shifted between Harry and Draco and he seemed, bless him, to finally clock what was going on. He pulled Harry by the shoulder to the other side of the kitchen and began to speak to him in hushed tones.

"You want to put all the pressure on the sides, not the front," he was saying.

Regulus went and scraped his ruined eggs into the bin, obviously eavesdropping, then put the pan back on the stove without shutting off the flame. The tang of hot metal began to compete with the crematorium smell and Lily wondered if anyone would notice if she got the prosecco back out and necked it.

"Regulus," she sighed. "Anything new with you?"

Regulus looked startled to be spoken to.

"Not really," he said, eyes shifting round the room. "I don't actually have all that much going on, canonically."

"Can—what?"

"Do you know how to make eggs?" he said hopefully.

"I think I've a salve for that," Narcissa was telling Draco, leading him by the hand into the suite she shared with Lily. "Well, it's more of an eye cream, but it's done absolute wonders for me—"

"You can do real damage to the trachea that way," James was explaining to Harry, demonstrating with a cupped hand to his neck.

"I work in Magical Law Enforcement," Harry deadpanned. "I think I know how to fucking choke someone."

Regulus emitted the strangely high-pitched giggle Lily was always hearing from inside the cup-strewn, bleach-smelling lair he shared with James.

"Why does it smell like—" Draco stopped in Lily and Narcissa's doorway. With narrowed eyes, he hissed to his mother, "I thought you were all in some sort of... like, queerplatonic... situation...?"

James's brow got those furrows again.

"What's queerplatonic?" he whispered to Lily.

"It means nobody fucks," she whispered back.

James squared his shoulders and took a step forward as if he might try to fight Draco.

---

"We raised a good kid," James would tell Lily later, after they'd put out the fire on the stove, slightly misty-eyed with nostalgia and the acrid smoke. "All of us," he'd add, with a nod toward Lily and Narcissa's side of the house, which was now perfumed rather pleasantly with a melange of prosecco, wet pussy and prawn fettucine.

"Yeah," Lily would say wistfully. "Shit taste in men, though."

"Well, it runs in the family." James would ruffle his hair, the way he tended to. After a pause, he'd venture: "And I daresay you and I had a pretty good run, didn't we?"

Lily would tip the bottle up and drain the last of the prosecco at that. James would hold out his hand, and she'd pass him the empty bottle. He'd try to take a drink, then bin it with a disgruntled look.

"It was all right," she'd say.