#i drew this back when i first remembered the ass cigarette

[dusty-pistol]

I heard the dreaded ass cigarette was mentioned in the Roger DLC. I come bearin terrible news. As I have drawn somethin awful like a year ago, I think probably. Keep in mind this is kinda OLD art, so... my apolocheese

[pradabambie]

the roommate. rafe cameron x reader x felix catton. pt. 4

masterlist

as felix exited the bar, following your boyfriend's tall figure, memories of the past months living with you flooded his mind.

living in such close quarters had magnified the subtle dance of emotions.

he recalled the late-night talks, the way you would fiddle with the clasps of his bracelets or trace your fingers over the stars tattoo on his hand whenever you talked to him, and the way it secretly made his stomach flutter.

he remembered all the late night talks in the balcony, all the cigarettes you two shared while laying on the grass, the sunlight made you look heavenly, he always thought to himself.

all of the parties, the shared quiet laughs in class—these moments lingered in his mind, etched with an ache he couldn't quite name.

felix couldn’t deny the attraction he felt towards you.

he always found himself stealing glances when you changed in your shared room, unable to resist the pull of his eyes. the way your figure moved, the subtle curves, and the casual grace in your actions created an undeniable allure for him.

he had never felt this way about a girl, it was always about sex with them, but not with you.

not that he didn’t think about it, he did. some would argue he thought about it way too much, but he couldn’t help it. he simply had to have you.

but of course there was rafe, and you would never.

to be fair, you found yourself in a conflicting whirlwind of emotions when it came to felix.

despite your committed and loving relationship with rafe, there was an undeniable, magnetic attraction to felix that tugged at your thoughts.

you couldn’t deny the subtle flutters when felix was near, the way his wit and charm drew you in.

you struggled to admit, even to yourself, the undercurrent of feelings you had for felix. it was a silent acknowledgment, buried deep within, as you navigated the complexities of emotions.

the guilt lingered, but so did the unspoken attraction that added a layer of tension to all your interactions.

as felix opened the door, the chilly night air embraced him and rafe, as they stood outside the pub, the distant sounds of the party acting as a faint background melody.

rafe took a deep breath, trying to clear the tension that had built up inside him throughout the evening.

"so, rafe cameron, the infamous boyfriend," felix remarked, breaking the silence.

he leaned against the wall casually, his eyes studying rafe's reaction.

rafe shot him a sharp glance, unamused. "cut the act. i know exactly what you're doing."

felix raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. "and what, my dear, might i be doing?"

rafe crossed his arms, a defensive stance. "you're trying to get under my skin, testing how much i can take."

he was used to this kind of thing. i mean come on, was this the first time another boy wanted you? of course no. he was used to all the dickheads in the island wanting to get his hands on you.

that’s why rafe made it his number one priority to make sure everyone knew you were his, and if he had to kick some pouge ass to do so, he was ok with it.

so let’s say he was not that threatened.

felix's playful demeanor softened, "look, i get it. you're protective, and that's cool with me. we’re just friends.” a hint of sadness breaking through. he wanted to be more than that, and he knew it.

rafe remained silent, his expression unreadable.

“just friends, huh?"

felix sighed, a wry smile on his face. "yeah, friends. and to answer your unspoken question, i know she's yours. i know." his stomach turned as he said the words.

rafe raised an eyebrow, a mix of surprise and suspicion in his eyes.

felix chuckled. "relax, mate. now, why don't you head back inside? i'm sure she's missing you."

rafe regarded felix for a moment, then turned to make his way back into the pub. as he disappeared inside, felix let out a soft sigh, watching him go, a tinge of sadness in his eyes.

later, back at the table, felix announced, "hey, everyone, i've got an early morning thing with ollie so i should get going. i'll crash at his place. give you two some space," he declared, flashing a smile in your direction, yet there was a subtle hint of longing in his eyes.

leaving you with rafe, felix felt a sense of loss. the special connection he cherished felt like it was slipping away, making him long for the times when it was just the two of you navigating the uncharted territories of friendship.

on the other side, rafe's expression shifted from annoyance to a subtle sense of triumph.

contradictory thoughts invaded your mind. why were you upset that felix was leaving? you had wanted a night with your boyfriend since you got here, but now… it was different.

“let’s go, princess” rafe got up and took your hand “i’m in the mood to show you how just how much i missed you” the boy said while smirking.

your mood switched, and you smiled back “okay rafey” maybe you just needed to be reminded of who you belonged to.

[worth-the-chaos]

Adventures in Babysitting - Steve Harrington x female!reader - Chapter 2

Chapter Summary: With the events of last fall in the past, you attempt to move on, still working on your academics and babysitting Dustin. You and Steve have drifted since your encounter with the otherworldly, but he begins to make more active efforts to talk to you, making sure you have an invite to Tina’s big Halloween party.

Content Warning: swearing, stancy, reference to upside down stuff, billy being an ass, college application stress, drinking, anxiety and trauma

Word Count: 6.3k

Author’s Note: Again, I’m trying to follow a lot of the plot lines of the series for this x reader, so a lot of it is probably a bit familiar! This part follows the reader’s involvement through Halloween, when things begin to turn sour again.

Series Masterlist | Part 1 | Next Part

***

You took a deep breath as you looked at your reflection in the bathroom mirror. Half-dressed for the day, your eyes couldn’t help but focus on the scars that littered your upper arm, remembering when they used to be deep gashes.

It had been about a year since you stood in the Byers’ house fighting for your life against the horrifying entity from what the kids elected to call the Upside Down. Though your physical wounds had healed, the emotional ones still lingered. Every once in a while, fear invaded your consciousness as you thought back to the flashing lights and the low growl resonating through the small family room. Sometimes when you closed your eyes, you could still see the rows and rows of razor sharp teeth, inching closer and closer to your face.

It was paralyzing, but you shoved those thoughts and feelings aside as you threw a long sleeve shirt on, covering the physical evidence of your fight against the supernatural. Stop thinking about that, you reminded yourself, it’s all over now.

The walk to Hawkins High wasn’t terribly long, though you did still wish you were fortunate enough to afford a vehicle of your own. Once you finally reached the parking lot, a car honk drew you from your thoughts and you were met with the familiar face of the one and only Steve Harrington as he smiled and waved from the driver’s seat. Sat next to him was Nancy Wheeler. Steve’s talk with her in the hospital evidently had been successful because they’d been back together since then, coming up on their first anniversary. You found it difficult to be happy for the couple, but you pushed the jealousy down in your chest and did a small wave back, a half smile on your face. Nancy didn’t respond with the same enthusiasm as Steve, her smile not quite reaching her eyes.

The window suddenly rolled down and Steve called out, “Hey y/n! I’ll see you in study hall! I have a question for you!”

“Okay…? See you then, I guess,” you responded, a bit surprised. Since last year, Steve had rethought his life choices. He wasn’t the same douchebag he’d been when he broke Jonathan’s camera and called Nancy a slut. He dropped Tommy H and Carol, started focusing a bit more on school, and was generally a lot nicer than he used to be. However, despite the way you both risked your lives together, blindsided by the paranormal darkness lurking in Hawkins, you both kind of fell out of touch.

He had Nancy and you had…well, you had your studies. And your babysitting gig. One year strong babysitting the Henderson kid, and only one apocalyptic encounter. Needless to say, you were doing pretty damn good.

Suddenly, the sound of tires screeching on the pavement drew the focus of the three of you away from the semi-awkward encounter, watching as a car with California plates peeled into the parking lot. A boy you didn’t recognize stepped out of the car, flicking his cigarette behind him. A young girl emerged from the passenger seat, turning and making her way down the hill in the direction of Hawkins Middle.

You scoffed, being the impeccable babysitter that you were. Was this guy really too lazy to drop his kid sister off at her school that was less than a block away?

He swung his car door shut and paused, looking you up and down before sending a wink and smirk your direction and turning to make his way into the high school. Your hands gripped your backpack straps a little tighter, feeling like an object to be used or consumed under his gaze. You didn’t have a good feeling about this boy, and something told you that Hawkins High had found its replacement for the King Steve that disappeared when Harrington wisened up last year.

“Who is that guy?” You suddenly heard Steve’s voice ask, annoyance painted on his face. He wasn’t too thrilled with the way he had looked at you. Steve knew the type of guy he was; the type that wouldn’t take no for an answer, and in that moment despite the countless girls drooling over his dumbass mullet, he had zeroed in on you.

“Must be new,” you responded, forcing a smile in an attempt to demonstrate that the mystery boy’s actions hadn’t fazed you. You fought an otherworldly entity; surely you could handle some asshole jock. In a way, you already had, and look how that turned out.

“The two of you should steer clear of him. He’s bad news,” Steve warned. Nancy and you didn’t argue, nodding before you took off to enter the building so you wouldn’t be late for first period.

By the time you were on your way to third period study hall, you had already spent the morning contemplating what Steve could possibly have to ask you. It was your junior year, his senior, and while you were taking it for the extra study time, he was taking it to avoid coursework from one more class, largely using it as a time to take a school sanctioned nap. As such, normally you didn’t interact much during the one hour break from boring lectures and busy work.

“Hey,” Steve whispered as he slid into the chair next to you, a stark juxtaposition to the way he slammed his textbooks on the desk, causing you to jump.

“What? Not taking your spot in the back corner so you can sleep without Mrs. Reed giving you shit?” You asked, staring up at him innocently.

“Actually, I was thinking I could get us out of here for the hour.”

“And how do you suppose that’s going to happen?”

“I’ll put on the old Harrington charm…just watch,” he smirked as he stood up, grabbing you by the elbow to drag you to the teacher’s desk. Mrs. Reed was not the type of person to mess with. She wore her hair up in a slicked back bun that meant business, wearing a scowl like it was an accessory. You seriously doubted the “Harrington charm” was going to do shit to get you out of that classroom.

She glared at the boy through her thin wire glasses, clearly not in the mood for his shenanigans. “Is there a problem?” She droned out, her expression fixing further into annoyance, if that was even possible.

“Actually, Mrs. Reed, I’m afraid there is,” he started, “you see, y/n here was just telling me about how she has this big presentation in her fourth hour class, and she was really hoping for an opportunity to practice. Is there any possible way you’d be so gracious as to let us utilize one of the study rooms in the library? I mean, we can’t go letting Hawkins’ star pupil do anything less than ace this thing, am I right?”

He shook you by your shoulders a bit at the end, and even though the compliment was nothing more than a lie, you still flushed under the praise. It wasn’t everyday that you got complimented in front of your entire study hall class by the most popular student in the school.

“Is that so, y/n?” She turned to you.

“You know me and my nerves, Mrs. Reed; I could really use the help. And besides, Steve is probably about the most rowdy audience I could possibly have, so presenting after this will be a piece of cake,” you pasted a smile on your face. You felt bad lying to her; she’d been a pretty decent English teacher your sophomore year.

“Fine. Don’t worry about coming back before the end of the hour. I know I can trust you to keep Harrington in line,” she answered, glaring at Steve before turning back to the work on her desk, done with the bullshit of high school students; the good ones and the bad ones alike.

You both quickly thanked her before Steve grabbed both of your backpacks and you headed out the door.

“Okay, if I’m going to be completely honest, I was about 85% sure that wasn’t going to work. Mrs. Reed fucking hates me…like a lot,” Steve breathed out as he tossed you your bag, his cocky facade finally dissipating as he continued down the hall.

“This better be a good fucking question, Steve,” you grumbled, not happy about the lie he forced you into, “what am I supposed to do if she asks me about my presentation? What am I supposed to do if she talks to Mr. Hayes?”

“Woah, woah, woah, cool your jets,” he rolled his eyes, “Mrs. Reed is probably a year or two away from retirement and barely even cares about the shit she’s teaching, so I think you’re going to be fine.”

You entered the library, quickly moving to one of the study rooms. You tossed your bag on the floor, already tired from the day and not fully emotionally prepared to spend an hour one on one with Steve.

“Alright, what’s the deal?” You asked as you sat in one of the chairs, crossing your arms as your face fixed into a glare.

“Well, first of all, here,” he shoved an obnoxiously orange flyer at you. You grabbed it a bit aggressively, still not super happy with the boy in front of you. He had a dorky-ass grin on his face though, and it almost broke the cold exterior you were trying to keep up….almost.

“‘Tina’s Halloween Bash, come and get sheet faced,’ are you kidding me? This is what we’re skipping study hall for? Dude, I have an AP chem test this week that I really needed to study for,” you whined, shoving the flyer back at him.

“No, of course this isn’t the reason we’re skipping. I may be dumb, but I’m not an idiot,” he said as he shoved the flyer back at you, “It’s just…I know you never go out, a-and—and it’s Halloween! You can’t stay in on Halloween! Plus, Nancy and I are going to be there, so it’ll be fun, I swear it.”

He leaned across the table, the elbow of his right arm settling right in the middle as he reached his hand towards you. Your focus shifted to his extended pinky. You looked at him incredulously as he waggled it a few times, looking at you with his big brown puppy dog eyes. This boy was going to be the death of you, but you wrapped your small pinky around his anyway.

“I’ll consider it. That’s the best you’re getting.”

“You know what, I’ll take it. Which brings me to my next topic, and pretty much the entire reason for this in the first place, which is that Nancy thinks my application essay sucks and I really need some fucking help,” Steve leaned back while he ran his hands down his face.

You felt a pang in your heart because you knew how stressful this all probably was for the boy. You’d been smart and planned accordingly, so getting into colleges wasn’t the part that was stressing you out; it was the finances that did. Steve on the other hand had screwed around for two and a half years and now somehow needed to manage turning things around enough so that he had even a fighting chance.

“Just give it to me,” you sighed and he quickly handed over the essay he had written.

Steve watched your eyes scan the page as you read the words that he had spent the last week writing. He was a bit embarrassed, to say the least; he had taken one English class with you last semester and knew that he didn’t even write half as well as you did. Hell, Nancy didn’t even come close and her writing was really, really good.

“You…you compared winning a basketball game to your grandfather fighting in the war?” You asked incredulously.

“…yeah?”

“Steve.”

“I know, I know! It’s bad, but that’s why I need your help! I was gonna have Nancy help me but we have this thing tonight and I can’t miss it and—“

You cut him off. “Steve, stop talking. I can help you…but I think you’re going to have to rewrite this whole thing.”

Steve hung his head and buried his face in his hands. Of course I’m gonna have to rewrite the damn thing because it can never just be fucking easy. He felt your hands pull on his wrist and he looked up, finding you staring at him sweetly. A bit pitying, but it was still sweet. With that, some of his anger subsided and he took a deep breath.

“You just need to find something more meaningful to you. I mean, I can tell your heart really isn’t in this. Besides, sometimes the best essays are about the things you’ve lost, not the things you’ve won.”

Steve thought about this. He lived a pretty privileged life. He didn’t want for anything, his future was pretty much set so long as he took the job at his dad’s company, he had the girl, the car, the hair, etc. Sure, his parents kind of really, really sucked but that was small potatoes compared to all of the things he had easy. It was hard to think of something he really, truly lost.

He almost had lost you.

His thoughts flashed to the demogorgon, the way his heart stopped and instinct took over as he had swung the bat with all his might to get the damn thing away from you. He pushed the thought away and suddenly he wasn’t interested in working on this essay anymore.

“You know what? You’re right. I’m gonna need some time to brainstorm some things to write about, but in the meantime, how about we focus on that AP chem test, huh? I mean, there’s no way you don’t have color-coded flash cards and all that jazz”

“Steve, you really don’t have to. I’m sure you have a lot better things to do than to help me cram for some dumb test.”

“Hey, first of all, if it’s important to you, it’s not dumb. Secondly, I might be a shit learner, but I’m a pretty damn good quizzer, so hand ‘em over,” he motioned for you to hand him your index cards as you sheepishly pulled them out of your backpack in their color-coded glory.

“How could I have possibly known?” He feigned surprise.

“Shut up, Harrington.”

***

When all was said and done, you felt moderately better about your AP chem test. Steve wasn’t lying when he said he was a good quizzer; by now, you had every word on every one of those damn cards memorized. During your walk to the Henderson household, you pulled the bright orange flyer out of your pocket. You couldn’t help but smile thinking back to Steve inviting you. He wanted you to be there.

“Y/n!” Dustin drew you out of your thoughts as you quickly shoved the flyer back into your back pocket. The middle school and the high school let out at the same time. He wasn’t far behind you, sat atop his bike as he hopped off and walked with it next to him so he could talk to you.

“You can ride your bike home. I seriously doubt you can get into any serious sort of trouble in the five minutes it takes me to catch up,” you reminded him, though you weren’t entirely sure that was true; in fact, the boy was such a problem sometimes that you considered upping your rate to charge his mom for hazard pay.

“First off, I think you underestimate how much faster I can get home on my bike than you can on foot. Secondly, what was that you just put in your pocket?”

“It-It’s nothing,” you said maybe a little too quickly as your face heated up.

“Bullshit. Spill.”

You sighed. “It’s just some stupid flyer for a big Halloween party. Nothing that concerns you, unless you somehow age several years in the next few days and are suddenly eligible to attend,” you joked, sarcasm lacing your tone as you tried to gather your bearings and act more casual. He didn’t need to know that, to you, it was more than just some Halloween party; it was a Halloween party that Steve Harrington had invited you to.

“You don’t go to parties though,” Dustin was quick to remind you. He was right. Sure, early on in high school you’d been invited to a few, but after you continued to decline, people stopped reaching out.

“Well…there’s a first time for everything, isn’t there?” you muttered.

“Are you gonna dress up?”

“I don’t know.”

“Who invited you?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Was it a guy?”

“No!”

“So it was a guy!” Dustin exclaimed. You rolled your eyes and jogged ahead, trying to put some distance between you and the incessant questioning of the boy you had the great misfortune of babysitting.

“Your silence is incriminating!” He shouted after you, unable to run very gracefully while attempting to guide a bike around.

You shook your head and sighed. Could babysitting Henderson ever be easy?

***

You walked towards Tina’s house feeling more than just stupid. You didn’t even know Tina super well outside of her always bumming notes off of you when she missed fifth period French. After your conversation with Dustin, you began considering the many elements of a Halloween party that had slipped your mind when you pinky promised Steve you’d go. You hadn’t thought about a costume because, frankly, you hadn’t initially been planning on doing anything for Halloween; it was just going to be another Wednesday for you.

As such, you had decided not to dress up, instead opting to pick apart your closet to find clothes that would maybe scream “party,” settling on your favorite pair of jeans, a low cut black tank top, and a denim jacket. So, yeah, you weren’t in costume, but at least your tits had kind of showed up to the party, so you decided that was good enough.

The mess of bodies dancing at different levels of sobriety made it difficult to navigate the front lawn and you hoped with all your might that Steve and Nancy were already there. You got closer to the front door when you heard the headache inducing sounds of high school testosterone as a bunch of the douchebags from Hawkins High hyped up Mr. California for doing an absurdly long keg stand.

Gee. Great.

As you reached to grasp the doorknob to let yourself into the party, a hand from behind you slammed the door back shut just as soon as you had opened it. You were met eye to eye with the mullet headed, leather jacket wearing douchebag himself. Something was off about this boy (besides the fact that he was unbelievably hammered), and you thought back to Steve’s warning to stay away.

“Hey,” he slurred as he looked you up and down, his eyes pausing longer than they should’ve when they reached your chest. You felt small under his hungry gaze, but you refused to allow yourself to visibly shrink so you straightened your posture and forced your chin up as you looked him in the eye.

“Excuse you,” you muttered as you tried to pull on the door handle again. Obviously it didn’t budge, and he laughed at your attempt. You scowled as you met his eyes again. “What’s your deal, man?”

“The name’s Billy. Billy Hargrove,” he shot you a smirk that screamed trouble as he extended his hand towards you, offering up a handshake.

What a total ass. Fortunately though, he was cocky enough to think that striking up a conversation would cause you to stay, removing his hand from the door, so you took the opportunity to maneuver past him, opening the door and slipping inside.

“Frankly, I don’t give a shit,” you added before slamming the door in his face. You saw the look of shock flash across his features before he disappeared from view and you couldn’t help but feel good about it. The feeling quickly dissipated though as you attempted to weave around the living room, nearly tripping as you made your way into the kitchen where you met Nancy.

“What’s in this?” She was asking a guy in a toga. You recognized him from your second period class, but you didn’t know his name.

“Pure fuel! Pure fuel! Whoo!” He shouted back at her, and you realized you were perfectly fine not getting to know him.

“Well, with that ringing endorsement, we’d be dumb not to have a little, right?” You chuckled and Nancy spun around at the sound of your voice.

“Y/n, you made it,” she said, smile not really touching her eyes, “Steve wasn’t sure you were going to show.” Both of you dipped red solo cups into the questionable mixture, filling them up with the red mix of booze and punch.

“Yep, here I am. In the flesh,” you laughed again, trying to dispel the awkward energy. Something about her seemed off; normally she would be much more friendly. You hoped that you hadn’t done anything to upset her. “Nancy, is everything okay?” You asked quietly as you gently grabbed her wrist.

“I’m fine,” she replied as her jaw set and her tone told you not to push the question. You let go of her wrist and nodded, letting her know that you were going to let it go for now. Her body relaxed and you lifted up your cup toward her.

“Cheers?” You asked with a half smile on your face. This earned you a small smile from the girl as she brought her cup up to tap yours. You smiled and both of you brought your cups to your lips, you taking a small sip while she threw her head back and downed the whole glass.

“Hey! Woah, woah, woah, take it easy! Nance!” Steve was suddenly beside you, reaching across you to try and grab the cup out of her hand.

“We’re just being stupid teenagers for the night. Wasn’t that the deal?” She glared at him before downing more punch, wiping away the bit that spilled onto her face, and shoving her way into the crowd to dance.

Steve’s expression fell a bit as he watched her leave, but his focus shifted to you. “Sorry about that. She’s just…in a bit of a mood today,” he apologized and shook his head, “but I’m so glad you’re here! I mean, I was pretty sure you were gonna bail on me considering I know for a fact that you were invited to some of my house parties last year and you didn’t show.”

“How dare I, right?” You rolled your eyes and chuckled. It’s true. You had been invited to his parties, especially after your encounter with the demogorgon had brought the two of you together in a weird but irreversible way. You would always have that experience, but you weren’t interested in changing for him. Besides, he was never the one to personally extend the invitation, instead you heard about it from someone else every time.

“You aren’t in costume.”

“Way to point out the obvious,” you retorted, finishing your first cup of punch. Steve shot you a look, clearly not trusting that you knew your limits with alcohol. “You’re joking, right?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, it seems a bit hypocritical for the king of parties himself to be judgmental about someone else’s drinking habits.”

“Well, it’s exactly that. I don’t get the impression that you have drinking habits, and if it’s your first time drinking, you should watch yourself, you know? Can’t fault me for looking out for a friend,” he added and you bristled a bit at that last word. Friend.

“Y/n, what?” He asked, noticing your reaction. You sighed before responding, not really sure how this conversation was going to go.

“So…we’re friends now?” You asked, but it was more of a statement than a question.

Steve was taken aback, clearly confused by your confusion. “What do you mean? Of course we’re friends! Y/n, we went through so much together last year, I mean, did you really think I was just gonna drop you like all that shit didn’t matter?”

“You kind of did. It’s not like we hang out or really talk or anything remotely close to what friends would do. We’re just two people who know each other a little bit better than we did. I wouldn’t necessarily call that ‘being friends’,” you responded, putting air quotes around the final words. You hoped that your statement didn’t hurt him. It was the truth though. Your shoulders tensed as you awaited his response.

“You know what? You’re right y/n, and I’m sorry. I should’ve done more to keep in touch, and I’m not going to make any excuses. So let’s just start over, okay?” He asked, his big brown eyes staring into yours.

Your breath hitched in your throat, and you nodded, not trusting that your voice wouldn’t fail you.

“Alright, perfect,” he smiled, and suddenly he extended his hand towards you, “hey, I’m Steve. I don’t know you but you seem pretty tough, and like you might have some killer fighting instincts, so I thought we could be friends.”

You laughed. Like really laughed, and Steve was beaming. You wiped away a tear that slipped from your eye as you took a breath to regain your composure. It was all so absurd and perfect and so incredibly Steve that you couldn’t help but accept his offer. You willed your palms not to sweat as you grabbed his hand and shook it, “Well, I’m y/n, and yeah, you’re right; I do have some pretty kick-ass instincts, but I can’t promise it will keep you out of trouble.”

“That’s okay because I’ve got some pretty kick-ass moves myself, so I think we’ve got it covered,” he added, smiling at you. He let go of your hand before saying “well, Nancy’s probably halfway to being shit faced, so we should probably go party it up with her while her memory’s still intact.”

You nodded as you turned to exit the kitchen, Steve placing a hand on your back as he guided you through the mess of people dancing to get to Nancy. It was fun to let loose and dance, and you wondered why you hadn’t let yourself party like this before. It felt freeing, and you felt the slight buzz from the drinks that you’d had as you let your body move to the music that was almost too loud to hear yourself think.

Suddenly, you felt hands around your waist, and you instantly sobered up, remembering a big part of why you didn’t like parties: asshole guys who were just looking for a quick hook up.

“Hey!” You shouted as you turned around, eyes met with the same piercing blue ones from earlier.

“Woah, no need to get all angry, baby. I gotta say it’s pretty hot though,” Billy chuckled as he moved his hands to grab at your waist again. You maneuvered away from his grasp, swatting his hands away.

“Can’t you tell I’m not fucking interested,” you replied.

“Baby, come on—“

You cut him off, “I’m not your fucking baby.”

“No need to be a bitch about it, come on. Can’t have a little fun?”

“She said she’s not interested, dude. Leave her alone,” Steve spoke up, having realized the position you were in. He moved to stand between the two of you, pulling you by the wrist behind him. Nancy was pretty wasted but aware enough to act, as she took your hand and pulled you farther away, weaving through the crowd to create some distance.

“Sorry, I wasn’t aware that you had two girlfriends, Harrington. I mean, I’m shocked you even have the one to begin with,” Billy retorted, taking a step towards Steve.

Steve stood his ground, knowing it wasn’t worth it to get heated over Billy’s comments. Billy just wanted to get a rise out of him and Steve wasn’t going to let him have the satisfaction.

“I’m just looking out for a girl that needs help. If you’re not going to listen to her maybe you’ll listen to a guy, okay? So walk away.”

“Whatever, Harrington,” Billy replied as he shoved Steve in the shoulder and turned around to walk away. Tommy H was hot on his heels, a mindless dummy and fair weather fan to whoever he deemed to be top dog at any given moment.

“Y/n, are you alright?” Steve caught up with you and Nancy.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Ugh, I just hate assholes, like come on!” You exclaimed, hugging your arms around yourself in an attempt to be self-soothing.

Steve opened his mouth to apologize when he realized Nancy was going back to the punch bowl. He quickly pivoted, following her into the kitchen. “Nancy, no, you’ve had enough, okay?” He said as he tried to grab the cup out of her hand again like he had earlier.

“Screw you,” she slurred, pulling her hand out of his reach and dunking her cup in the bowl.

“No, Nancy, I’m serious! Stop…Nance, put it down,” he warned, grabbing at the cup again. Nancy continued to protest, and Steve continued to fight it until he lost his grip on the cup and its bright red contents went spilling onto Nancy’s pristine white shirt. An audible gasp rang out through the party as those in the near vicinity stopped their dancing to gawk at Hawkins’ power couple’s power struggle.

“What the hell?” Nancy whispered as she stormed out of the room, and Steve pushed past you to follow, yelling after her. And just like that, you were alone. Without Steve and Nancy’s presence to calm you down, you felt your anxiety rise in your throat. You scanned the crowd, trying to find anyone that you knew moderately well enough to crash their group, and when you found no one, you cursed yourself for being such a loner. That was until your eyes met Jonathan Byers’, dressed equally un-festively, and you sighed a huge sigh of relief.

“Jonathan!” You shouted over the music, making your way over to him. Clearly he had seen what just transpired between Nancy and Steve, eyes darting back to focus on the hallway they’d disappeared down.

“Hey, y/n. What just happened?”

“Nancy’s pretty wasted and Steve was trying to cut her off and he spilled her drink on her. They’re probably in the bathroom trying to clean it up, though I doubt it’ll do any good. That punch is definitely going to stain.”

You didn’t know Jonathan super well, but you resonated with him. Both of you were more inclined to keep to yourselves, but via absurd and inter-dimensional means, ended up intertwined in the lives of your high school’s most popular couple. You saw the way he looked at Nancy when they talked, and it wasn’t dissimilar to how you looked at Steve; wanting for something that you couldn’t have but settling for what you did.

The two of you found a quiet corner and continued to make small talk, catching up on each other’s lives since you didn’t talk much. Jonathan told you about how Will was struggling, still visiting Hawkins’ Lab for appointments in an attempt to sort out his PTSD.

“The doctor says it’s some anniversary effect, and how since we’re coming up on a year, he’s just more on edge than usual. He’s been having these episodes though.”

“Episodes?”

“Yeah, they’re kind of like these waking nightmares I guess. He’s still scared out of his mind, y/n,” Jonathan explained, and you saw the pain in his expression. Your heart ached and you felt a lump in your throat as you thought about the way the poor kid was struggling. You wished you could just make it all go away, that you could erase it ever happening in the first place.

“And you trust this guy? The doctor I mean?” You asked hesitantly.

“He seems like a good guy. Sometimes it doesn’t feel like he’s being completely transparent. I guess I’m on edge too. It just seems like everyone’s bracing for something else to happen,” Jonathan added, and you felt the tension in your shoulders as he said it.

Suddenly, Steve stormed through the family room, Nancy noticeably absent. He quickly maneuvered through the crowd, reaching the front door and slamming it shut behind him.

You looked at Jonathan. “Divide and conquer?” You asked, knowing that the two of you were going to have to pick up the pieces of whatever had happened between the two of them. Jonathan quickly nodded, as you dropped your prior conversation. “Okay, I don’t have a car and Nancy’s not in a state to walk home, so you take care of her and I’ll handle Steve,” you added as you started walking backwards to make your way towards the door.

“Are you sure? He seems pretty mad.”

“I’ve handled worse!” You shouted back as you turned and swiftly made it out the door. Your eyes scanned the front lawn, still littered with people, but they quickly found the brown mop of hair that you had become familiar with just as he was reaching his car.

“Steve!” You shouted, but he ignored you, fumbling with his keys as he tried to unlock the door. By the time he finally managed to get it unlocked and opened, you had grabbed the side of the door so he couldn’t close it and drive off.

“Y/n, just leave me alone, okay? I’m seriously not in the mood,” he warned, his head hung as he tried desperately to avoid eye contact with you. His voice wavered a bit and you could tell by his body language that he was pretty upset.

“No, I’m not going to leave you alone; you shouldn’t be alone right now.”

“Then get in the car because I’m not fucking staying here,” he sighed and you hesitated before moving around to the passenger seat.

“What happened?” You gently asked as he began to pull away from Tina’s house, the night that you had all been anticipating clearly ending in disaster.

“Oh, you know, just Nancy saying that our relationship is pretty much complete and utter bullshit which is what every guy wants to hear from the woman that he loves,” he replied. His announcement of his love for Nancy stung, but you pushed it aside; this wasn’t about your feelings.

“What do you mean? What’s going on? You guys always seem so happy together,” you were honestly pretty shocked. They were the perfect couple; the kind of people who would end up high school sweethearts and the talk of every high school reunion. It couldn’t possibly all be bullshit.

“The Hollands are selling their house to pay some private investigator to find Barb.”

Oh.

Your stomach dropped and suddenly your body seemed to remember the alcohol you had consumed.

“Steve, stop the car.”

“Woah, woah, woah, what’s going on? Are you—“

You cut him off, shouting “just stop the damn car! Now!” The car screeched to a halt as he slammed his foot on the brake pedal. You quickly opened the door, retching onto the desolate backroad that you were currently on. Steve rubbed big circles across your back as your stomach emptied its contents. When you were done, you shut the door, tears running down your face.

“I’m so sorry, Steve. Sometimes I just forget about all of it; push it all away because I’m not ready to handle it and I just think about what it was like to be face to face with th-that—that thing and I can’t imagine what Barb’s final moments were like and I just—“ your sobs cut you off, unable to speak through your horror in contemplating Barb’s death.

“Hey, hey, you’re okay y/n. I’m right here,” Steve reminded you, pulling you into a hug as you buried your face in his neck. He held onto you until you were able to calm down and you pulled away from him.

“I’m sorry. I monopolized your turn being the one in crisis,” you let out a weak laugh, wiping the remaining tears from your eyes as you sniffled.

“No, honestly that was helpful. I think I get where Nancy’s coming from a little better now. Maybe she didn’t really mean all that shit about us, you know?” He rationalized.

“Yeah, maybe,” you replied, your voice small.

“Hey, don’t disappear on me now. We’re handling this crisis together and we’re putting it behind us, okay? So what’s going on?”

“It’s just…I was almost her,” you whispered, looking in horror at Steve.

“What?”

“I was almost Barb. If you hadn’t shown up—“

“Y/n, don’t think like that. You can’t think like that. It’s going to eat away at you. You’re here. I’m here. And we’re okay,” it seemed like he was trying to convince himself just as much as he was trying to convince you. You nodded, not entirely persuaded but ready to be done with the conversation. “Alright, where to?”

“Just mine, you know,” you said quietly, embarrassed that Steve was going to see your house. It was dinky compared to the Harrington residence. You knew he wouldn’t care, but you couldn’t help but feel inferior.

“Sure thing,” he replied as he put the car in drive, as you both attempted to put the evening’s sourness behind you. You chatted and caught up on all of the normal things you’d missed as you’d drifted apart this past year and by the time he reached your house, you felt a little bit better about things.

If only the two of you knew about the danger that was still lurking right under your feet.

***

a/n: I hoped y’all liked this chapter! I’m so excited to continue this story as we unpack all of the upside down nonsense of season 2! I’m new to this whole writing fanfic thing, so if you really liked it, I would be forever grateful if you would be so kind as to reblog it! It really helps it get to other people!

[madam-wakefield]

Open when... Chapter 12

AO3 Link FF Link

Summary:

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 When a few years into their relationship Bernie is asked to go back to the army and deploy Serena isn’t sure how she’s going to get through the nine months without her girlfriend. What she doesn’t expect is for it to be her girlfriend who has the perfect set of surprises to get her through both the best and the worst days. Canon divergent - Elinor lives (well actually the accident never happens), Raf lives, and Cameron isn’t a total ass! The staff of AAU also probably didn’t all work on there at the same time in canon but do in this! The fic is already fully written with the first few chapters having already been Beta’d. 27 chapters including the epilogue. Hoping to post every Monday and Friday!

Open when you want to reminisce…

Serena has spent the day putting up Christmas decorations. She loves Christmas and always has, even as a little girl from which she has fond memories of a house decorated beautifully and the excitement she always used to feel as the big day drew closer.

Elinor had come round to join her and Jason to decorate the Christmas tree, a real one, of course. They’d shared lunch together after that, and she loves the way that Elinor’s and Jason’s relationship has developed since she took Jason in, originally worrying that it would never happen. 

She’d have thought Elinor would have wanted to go home then, but she’d asked if they could watch Elf, her favourite Christmas film and when Jason had said it was one he enjoyed too, Serena couldn’t say no. She couldn’t help but think as the three of them sat on the sofa that there was just one thing missing however:  Bernie. This is their third Christmas together but they are spending it physically apart. She had pushed the thought from her mind, had known Bernie would want her to enjoy this time and not spend it worrying about her.

It’s only now, that Elinor has gone home and Jason has gone up to bed that she’s had time to finish the last few bits of the decorating, adorning the photo frames with silver tinsel. She’s doing okay, until she gets to the one of her and Bernie, taken at the first Holby Christmas party they had attended as a couple, Bernie in a simple navy suit, with that shirt Serena loves on her so much, Serena herself in a deep red floor-length dress. The happiness in both their eyes is strong enough to have been captured in the picture.

And suddenly she misses Bernie more than she has in weeks, and she just needs to be able to remember more happy memories. She goes to her room and extracts the box of envelopes from her closet. She’d brought it home in case she wanted to open any during her week off. She hadn’t wanted to take the time off, but she’s got holiday time to use up and Hansen had insisted.

She finds the envelope she wants and goes back downstairs, of course, pouring herself a glass of wine. She considers turning the main living room light on but then decides she’ll read the letter using the twinkling lights of the Christmas tree, her sometimes dodgy eyesight be damned.  

“Serena, open when you need to reminisce…” and right now it’s exactly what she does need.

My Dearest Serena,

You feel like a little reminisce and this is my way to help you. We’ve had so many wonderful unforgettable moments together and I just want to remind you of some of them, to bring a little smile to your face. I wish I could write them all but if I did I’d be here forever.

I’ve picked a variety of special memories for us, a few of them are from before we even started dating. From the moment we first laid eyes on each other to our last date night before I deployed, I tried to pick memories that we both find special, that we both still talk about frequently.

The first has to be the day we met, you getting mad at your car and telling me I didn’t look like a mechanic. Laughing over my crazy love for cigarettes and your need for a nice glass of Shiraz, we should have known then how well we’d slot together.

I can’t write you a letter about reminiscing and forget to mention a certain ‘plumber by trade’ patient who caused us to have a fun little arm wrestle. I thought in the weeks just before that that I’d messed up with you for good, and well at that point the laughs I got to have with you that day were very much needed.

The next memory has grown to have so much more meaning now than either of us could have ever known when you first said the word: “Equals.” Called into Hansen’s office after lying to you again, even if it was to protect you, I thought I was a goner, and then you told Hansen we were equals. It was one of the first times I’d ever felt truly valued in the civilian world. And how that word has come to evolve, now as girlfriends, partners, lovers, equal in every sense of the word, except for nominal rank of course.

I guess the next memory would have to be the trauma bay, the way you believed in me despite everything. The surgeries we’ve performed together, the people we’ve saved because of it. And now here you are running it for me with Raf! Remember I want my spot back once I’m home.

The next memory comes with more mixed emotions. Our first kiss, there in the theatre of AAU, having just performed lifesaving surgery on our friend and colleague. Even to this day I couldn’t tell you what made me do it, other than that I wanted to. But despite what came for a time after, I wouldn’t change that decision for the world. I kissed you that day and it was like the world righted itself. I know it isn’t what you had planned for your life either, but I think I can speak for you when I say, I guess that kiss really did change our lives.

I’m not going to save your blushes during this little reminisce so I’m afraid I must bring up the girl from Stepney. Talking of Stepney we still never have made it there, I think we should put it in as a date, maybe for four years after the conversation happened?

What can I go on to from there to say other than  an Italian with an extensive wine list? Sitting in that restaurant with you for the first time never could I imagine what was going to unfold the next day or over the coming months. Me running off to Ukraine because I didn’t know how to face my own feelings. At times we were both idiots, but it turned out for the best in the end, and we’ve had many a pleasant date night there since, though not enough for you to have made it through that extensive wine list yet.

You have to know what the next memory is, your delightful nephew playing cupid, and where would we be without him? Neither of us were brave enough to say what we needed to do without him. And I will be forever grateful that he locked us in that office on the day we now call our anniversary. Even just thinking about that kiss, the way it felt to be back in your arms after so long makes me feel tingly all over. It might not have been the most delicate kiss or the average way to get together, but it is so perfectly us!

For one of our first proper dates, we decided to go ice skating seeing as it was December and the open-air ice rink had been erected for Christmas. I very ungracefully smashed into the back of you almost landing us both up in hospital. Instead, I brought you hot chocolate to apologise and vowed I’d never step foot on ice again.

Then it was our holiday together to Italy. I’ll never forget the way your eyes lit up when you first laid eyes on Venice, or that special kiss we shared in the gondola. The special time we had to just be us and learn all about each other. And the sex was pretty incredible too!

It wasn’t long after that you gave me the keys to your house, told me that you didn’t want to have to be without me most nights with the knowledge that I was in my tiny little flat when your house was more than big enough. The idea terrified me as much as it excited me. But for the first time, I managed to voice my worries to you instead of running, I’d gotten good at running by then. I’ll never forget how proud you were as you looked at me as I voiced my concerns to you. I guess that’s when things really changed for us, isn’t it? I learned I didn’t need to run, that you didn’t expect or need me to be perfect, you just needed me to be myself. Two weeks later I did my back in moving boxes, though I guess it was worth it for the amazing massage I got.

It wasn’t until we’d been together a year that Elinor finally agreed to meet me properly. I was so nervous, but you kissed me and reminded me that you loved me and that I didn’t need to be anything I wasn’t. That the fact you loved me should be good enough for Elinor. It was awkward but we made it through, and I hope over time my relationship with Elinor will keep improving, and maybe one day Charlotte will be willing to meet you too.

Then there was that day when we went to the beach together. We had a fabulous day, we played in the arcades, ate fish and chips and far too much ice cream. I even managed to convince you to have a paddle in the sea. Then you told me you couldn’t stand getting sand on your feet once they were wet, so I told you I’d piggyback you over to the bench. You didn’t believe I could manage it, as if you’d forgotten I was in the army for over twenty-five years. I managed it and we fell about on the bench laughing as if we were teenagers and not two middle-aged women.

And then a few months later my call to go back to the army came, and that intense fear to shut people out welled up inside me again, but then we talked it through and for the first time in my life I was with someone who understood that being part of a relationship meant being able to let the other person have what they need and you told me you’d support me if I needed my closure.

You treated me to a final date, a week before I deployed, and you wanted to make sure we could both thoroughly enjoy ourselves. A meal at that posh restaurant which you knew I’d both love and hate at the same time. It’s a good thing I’ve been in the officer’s mess enough times to know how to behave! I’m sure you just used it as an excuse to get me drunk though, and it worked! Though I can’t say I’m complaining, and it’s a good thing neither of us had work the next day, as even if we hadn’t had hangovers, neither of us could exactly walk properly! You really do know how to show a girl a good time!

And then just like that we knew it was time for me to get ready to leave and that’s what led to this letter, and I will never be able to put into enough words just how thankful I am that you’ve let me do this. I’m not sure how far into my deployment I am but what I do know is I can’t wait to make more memories with you.

I’m going to sign this letter off without saying anything else more except that I love you and miss you and that I really can’t wait to make more memories with you.

All My Love, Bernie,

Your Big Macho Army Medic x

[eddie]

⛧˖ ─── AFTER WATCHING TO ENSURE THAT Chrissy had made it safely through the door of the restroom, Eddie unfolded the shirt that he was holding in his hands, spreading it open in front of him to behold the design once more. This time, it wasn’t the scheme of the garment that captivated him though. It was nice, of course; the manicured hand of a woman with a gear shift in her grip ( a clever and probably not-so-subtle gesture ), but it was hard to fully appreciate it when he was so focused on the personal sentiment that the article itself held. IT MATCHED WITH CHRISSY CUNNINGHAM’S. The design could have been something significantly less cool and he still would have treasured it.

            Slipping it on overtop of the tank top that he was already wearing, the metalhead then pulled his leather jacket back on and lit up a cigarette. As he’d glanced down at the new addition to his wardrobe though, he found himself having to roll his eyes. JESUS H. CHRIST. It was beginning to seem as though no amount of rationalizing with his own lovesick ass was going to save him from losing touch with reality. Once again, he had to remind himself that this WASN’T. A. DATE. Regardless of how much fun they were having together, she was still with Jason fucking Carver, and he, himself, still wasn’t worthy of her.

            And then the very cause of all of his grief (and the reason for all of his smiles) came bouncing out from around the corner of the bathroom with her pretty blonde hair flowing over her shoulders and her hand up in the air … and HIS NEWFOUND RESOLVE INSTANTLY CRUMBLED. He’d noticed the little polished thumb that was sticking out where it shouldn’t be, but it hadn’t taken the cheerleader long to remember that ‘ the devil only had two horns ’ and tuck it away. With the nervous and adorable ' ROCK ON ' that she'd so timidly squeaked out, he wasn't sure that he would have been able to correct her anyways.

            The smile on the metalhead’s face grew alongside the swell of affection in his chest as the strawberry blonde drew closer, allowing him to take in the sight of her metal attire for the first time.

            ❝ … Shit! ❞ Eddie gasped in exuberant surprise, immediately throwing himself into an internal battle against the sudden urges he had to act like a complete fool. ❝ Be still, my beating heart! ❞ A playful exclamation, albeit an entirely literal one. The metalhead was unable to hide the grin that suddenly split through his expression and forced the dimples in his cheeks to surface, a palm settling briefly over his own chest. He stepped towards her, meeting her halfway before he’d taken the hand that she had up in the air into his own hold, prompting her into the gentle motion of a twirl. It may not have been her traditional style, but there was no denying that a girl like her could make just about anything look good. THE PERKS OF BEING SO PRETTY.

            ❝ It, uh— ❞ Eddie tried to tighten the smile on his face while his thumb fidgeted with the butt of his cigarette, but it was to no avail. ❝—It looks good on you, Chris. Kinda knew it would though. ❞ He selfishly took another brief moment to admire her before he’d let go of her hand, and in a matter of seconds, it was as though the previous conversation that he’d had with himself NEVER EVEN HAPPENED. ❝ And with that, I do believe… you are officially ready for your big metal debut. ❞ The smile on his face began to twist with a changing expression, one of his eyebrows slowly arching upwards with the hint of the impishness that was so characteristic of him. ❝ What do you say, Miss Cunningham? Are you ready to ascend and meet thy METAL GODS? ❞ In classic EDDIE MUNSON fashion, the amplification of his voice began to grow in volume and flair. ❝ Are you ready to lose your mind? Are you ready to bang. YOUR. FUCKING. HEAD? ❞ His floppy mane swayed with each word as he thrashed his head in tandem, ceasing only after the verbalization of the last word to prompt her to take his arm.

            Unlike the strange looks that his behavior would garner in places like the Hawkins High cafeteria, such a display of RAMBUNCTIOUS ENERGY in a place like this only collected the riled-up cheers of passers-by in the shifting crowd. With his undivided attention on Chrissy, however, the recognition that he was accumulating from his metalhead kin was hardly even being registered.

♡ ┈┈ ꔫ ┈┈ ♛ →  EVEN AS THE ITEM WAS handed to her and the purchase was finalized , Chrissy's gaze never left the price, forcing herself to memorize every last detail ; he would be repaid for this kindness, even if he found it under his car seat or in his dashboard or under his mattress -- somehow... Of this, Chrissy was certain she could accomplish! It's almost intoxicating being around Eddie when it came to disobeying ; all her life she'd been taught to be this obedient little doll, but now? She was at a metal concert with the school freak and was about to pay him back for the shirt he'd just bought her as a gift!

       As he handed the fabric to her, she leaned in and gave it a tiny sniff, glossed lips pulled back into delicate smile. This scent was different than the ones she was used to. It smelled...dank like it was left in the sunlight and the scent of dew was buried into its fabric, unlike the ones inside the stores that her mother forced her into ; she could only hope he wouldn't judge her for this.

       ❝ I love it!, Eddie! ❞ She managed as they wandered toward the bathrooms, sneakers already knowing they'd require a good wash when she left from here, but, for once, a little dirt didn't bother her ; for once, she felt..safe, happy, not thinking about the devil that haunted her nightmares. It was enough. Whatever they did today, was enough for her to finally breathe, and, thankfully, the music would be loud enough to ward off the creature -- much like Halloween costumes used to ward off bad spirits in the older days. With Eddie, she could be safe, she could share this, she didn't feel so ostracized or lonely...

       Pulling the shirt close to her chest, she'd sheepishly nod her head as she'd scamper inside the dirty-looking restrooms, the women's seeming to have less visitors than the men's for once, a relief to her as she took the time to pull closed the stall door and lock it. Shaky breath, her movements starting to slow as she began to undress, remembering --

       CHRISSY, OPEN THE DOOR!

       The haunted screams of her mother -- no, whatever it was -- from that day. The bangs that sounded off the walls, horrifying, telling her that she was fat and ugly and a pig. Eyelids fluttered halfway as feet instinctively moved to the back of the stall and her voice began, trembling, to hum as her jacket is thrown over the door as new shirt was placed over her old one, fitting with enough room to keep it from being snug on her. What a relief...

       Breaths pulled inward, she reached for her jacket -- 1, 2, 3, 4 -- and pulling it around her waist, tying it once then twice, tightly to ensure it wouldn't fall off during the concert (perfect). One more time doe eyes check beneath the stall door, ensuring there weren't any grotesque feet awaiting her...

       The door creaked open, head peering out, giving the bathroom a suspicious once over, the other women in there, their big puffy hairdos, giving her a returned stare. Strawberry blonde locks fell over her shoulder as she managed across the room to the sink, staring at herself in this new outfit ; she looked...metal.

       Cherry pink lip gloss is reapplied in the mirror, a giggle leaving her, the mental strain of the stall claustrophobia fell further behind in memory. This would prelude her excusing herself from the restroom as she ducked around the other ladies, who were definitely more metal than her, and stepping outside to meet back up with Eddie. Raising up her arm, she'd give him a salute, her index finger, pinky, and thumb all up -- eyes widen then the thumb is pulled inward in an instant. ❝ R...Rock on! ❞

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ →  @eddie continued for beta editor ; n ;

[justagirlwhowasbored]

How about a prompt where the reader is extremely witty to the point where even Alastor becomes a flustered mess? Also love your work make me smile like an idiot while reading 🥰

Thanks so much for the compliment! I love this idea, now I am an idiot who has a small vocabulary so I apologize if I wasn’t the best with witty, now without further ado. Here is the fic and sorry if it’s late I don’t check submissions for awhile.

Tw: light swearing and mention of cigarette.

They/them pronouns.

I don’t proof read so sorry if I used any she/her pronouns.

Alastor x witty reader

“Darling if you want to find a man then you should act like a decent human .” Alastor pointed out, after he had enough of your constant witty remarks. And seeing you complain about being single. “And you if you want to find happiness then you should act like food, people love food.” You replied tired and knowing that it wasn’t your best remark.

“That was not your best one, are you getting sick of being rude?” He questioned “Nope just hoping you’ll realize that the only reason I’m talking to you is because I’m bored.”

“Hmm.” He muttered with a large frown.

Ever since you came to the hotel you two had always had banter with you being incredibly witty and sarcastic. Which in no way made alastor liked, though something drew him to you.

The fact that you could be like this to anyone made him fascinated. You have done this to people you have no chance of fighting.

“Well if you wish to be treated like a human you should get more of a brain.”

He once again stated trying to ‘help’ you in life. “Al one, this is hell try and remember that strawberry man. Two if we put your brain in a bird it would fly backwards, so with that what’s your point?” The more you made remarks like this the more intriguing you were to Alastor. Truthfully he noticed you did this epically to him, not even to Charlie or Vaggie were you so ‘rude’

He even talked about this to Husker, when you first noticed this you simply responded with, “ If you’re talking behind my back you’re in a good position to Kiss my ass shit head.”

He was, embarrassed, no shocked, maybe, no you made him flustered. That’s when it clicked he wasn’t intrigued with you he had a crush on you. Yup you just sparked the interest of the radio demon.”

From then on he wanted to try and get to know more about this feeling. So what did he do, he made the worst choice and went to Angel Dust.

“They wants to fuck ya Al.” Angel said said smoking a cigarette, “Wh-what!! Me!?!” Al said with a bright red face and eyes that look like he had just been told he’s going to heaven.

“Oh ya their tryna flirt with ya so you stick yer meat in them.”

Al kinda knew that you don’t want that you just wanted a… relationship? With him!?

So he confronted you, didn’t go well.

Honestly I’m tired so here it is, and if you would like me to continue this then please tell me or if I have to motivation I’ll finish it. I like this fic and also ended it because I don’t know if you wanted platonic or romantic. I thought romantic but I didn’t want to assume things. Anyways thanks for the request I really need some so please give me some!

[writtenjewels]

Monstrous

Jason scrambled through the woods on the hunt for prey. Tonight he managed to get far into the woods before he transformed, so there were plenty of rabbits and deer to get his attention. Even though he'd eaten not too long ago, Jason's stomach growled with the need for food. His nose caught the scent of food nearby and he pointed himself in that direction.

There was something strange about this scent. It reminded Jason of ham. Why would ham be in the forest? But hunger and animal instinct overrode him, pushing him on. He didn't even see the trap until it had already snapped closed over one of his legs.

Fuck! He let out a yelp of pain. Jason pawed at the trap trying desperately to find the catch that would release him. He couldn't let hunters find him! And he sure as hell wasn't going to sit here stuck until morning when he changed back. At least this wasn't the kind of foot-hold trap with sharp edges. Jason tried to remember how one opened these things. It was one of his front legs that got stuck so he tried swiveling around to get his back legs to press down on the levers.

Then his nose caught a new scent in the air. It distracted Jason enough that he stopped struggling with the trap. He took another sniff but still couldn't figure out the scent. He caught some familiar scents: cigarette smoke, incense, but those were overlapping something else. Trying to get at the true scent was starting to make Jason's nose itch.

A figure appeared through the trees and Jason's fur instinctively stood on end. No wonder it didn't smell right: it was a goddamn vampire. Nevermind it was wearing normal human clothes-- probably stole it off one of its victims. Its horns and protruding fangs were all Jason need to know. Jason let out a low growl that alerted the vampire to his presence. The creature looked confused at first but then picked something up off the ground.

It was a fucking ham! Jason thought angrily. It was dripping red with blood, too, which was probably what attracted the vampire.

“I wonder if this was meant for me or you, my friend?” the vampire mused. It spoke with an accent, not that it mattered where this fucking thing came from. Jason growled louder. “How inconsiderate of me. Please, let me help you out of that.” The vampire drew closer and this time Jason showed his teeth.

The vampire hesitated. Then held both hands palm up and showed them to Jason. As if vampires needed weapons to be dangerous! Still, this thing did have opposable thumbs. Jason hid his teeth again and relaxed his body.

“There, you see? There is no reason for us to be enemies.” Jason would argue that but he really wanted to get out of this trap. The vampire pressed down on the levers and Jason stepped away. He gave his leg a few good licks to make sure it was none the worse for wear.

Guess I should thank him. Jason gave a bark and a single wag of his tail. This made the vampire smile, which... made him look pretty nice. He was pretty good-looking, actually. Except he's a nasty-ass vampire! I don't care what he says: we're fucking enemies!

“Did you want the ham?” the vampire offered. Jason gave another tail wag. He didn't go for dead meat in this form, but it'd be a shame to let the ham go to waste. “My name is Salim,” the vampire added as it set down the meat. “Would you like to hunt together tomorrow night? The enemy of my enemy is my friend, after all.”

Jason's fur bristled at the idea of teaming up with a vampire. Then again, it wouldn't hurt having someone else along. The vampire could watch out for traps and Jason could stalk the prey.

He looked the vampire-- Salim-- in the eye and wagged his tail in agreement.

[innocentlymacabre]

Anna, Version One

tw: suicide mention (not acted on), alcohol, OD mention (not acted on)

Before we begin, I should make it clear that this story takes place in the early 1960s, when aeroplane rules were a lot laxer. One could brandish a cigar, or holster a pistol, or even brandish a cigar while holstering a pistol. Now, consider if you will, the thoughts of one James Augustus McCoy, as he goes airborne in a helm of metal, held together by nothing more than nuts and bolts, and is rocketed to well over twenty thousand feet in the sky, at speeds faster than any other passenger vehicle can even attempt. His nightmare treads the razor edge between the possibility that it’s merely James’ psyche feeling especially cruel, or that what he thinks he sees hanging off the edge of the plane is real.

ONE

“Okay men, we have a problem,” Jerry Cramer began, addressing the room of three carefully selected candidates: Phil Digby, Luke Kendrick, and James McCoy. “The Swiss are backing out of the deal. Staying neutral as ever, those tricky bastards.”

“Of course they are,” Digby chimed in. James had never particularly liked him. Kind of a kiss-ass and didn’t do his job particularly well. Digby didn’t know it, but the only reason he was on this little team was because they needed a fall guy if everything went belly-up.

“Goes against who they are or some other crap probably,” Kendrick barked through a cigarette. “Knew it was risky to go into business with them.” James didn’t fall for his gangster façade, but he liked the man. He did his job and was bloody good at it.

“Be that as it may,” Cramer said, regaining control of the room, “we’ve got to get this sorted out. James, I need you on the next flight to Switzerland. Talk to Meyer, get this sorted.”

“Fuck, you got me flying again? Kendrick. Kendrick will go, he’ll get it done. He knows the deal basically as well as I do. I am not getting on a plane again. I went when we started this thing. My flying is done.”

“Said it yourself, James – you started it, we need you to finish it. “Basically as well” isn’t the same as as well. Nothing’s going to happen to you. Just get there.”

“Fuck me,” James sighed. “I’m flying first class and not paying for anything. The company’s paying for the entire trip.”

“Done,” Cramer said looking satisfied with himself.

“Can’t believe I’ve got to go back. Damn Swiss need to learn how to finally pick a side.”

“Hey, hey, it won’t be that bad. Just get on the plane and try to go to sleep. You can’t be scared if you’re not awake,” Anna suggested.

“I don’t know.”

“Look, it’s not as if you’ve got much of a choice anyway. Best to just get it done and over with.”

James snorted but ultimately resigned to his fate.

“Good man. Call me when you land. And hey, remember to pack socks – you always forget to take them and end up with one pair for the entire trip.”

“Oh, good one. Thanks, honey,” James said, breaking away from selecting a shirt to reach for his sock drawer.

“Oh, and take a few cigars from the bar – the good ones – for your meeting. You don’t want to show up to one of these things empty handed. They’ll chew you up and send you packing.”

James nodded, not stopping to question his wife’s advice for a moment. He wasn’t sure what knowledge she drew on when she gave him advice, but she was never wrong. She was also a lot more confident and open than most other women. She spoke her mind and she spoke frankly and didn’t give a damn about who knew. It was one of the best things about her and was what made James fall in love with her all those years ago.

He made a mental note to grab the cigars on his way out and headed into the bathroom to pack his toothbrush. He very well could have used the one in the hotel, but James preferred his own. He took it out of the cabinet and placed it in a small pouch, then cleared the rest of the cabinet out and took a step back. James took a deep breath, then quietly locked the door before turning back to face the cabinet once again.

Another deep breath later, he reached forward and carefully scaled the back of the cabinet, feeling for the loose part of the wood where the back gave away to reveal a small, secret compartment. This was the one thing in his life that Anna didn’t know about. They shared everything else with each other, but this compartment was only his. And it had to be. If Anna knew what he kept in there, all she would do is worry.

James wiped the unconscious sweat starting to form on his temple, then reached for the 9mm. He checked to make sure the safety was on and that it wasn’t loaded, then placed it at the bottom of the pouch along with its clip. He replaced the false back and quickly restocked the cabinet, then sat down on the toilet seat.

He didn’t know why he carried it every time he flew. Maybe it was because he wanted to go out on his own terms. If the plane was going down, he was damned if he was going to let the fire get him – he’d shoot himself and that would be the end of it. But then again, Anna always liked to point out that things are often more complicated than they seem; maybe there was some other reason he took it with him. Either way, the 9mm was James’ constant companion throughout his aerial adventures.

TWO

James walked out onto the tarmac, dragging a suitcase behind him. Donning a bespoke black suit, he did his best to give off his signature don’t-fuck-with-me look, but a million alarms were going off inside his head. He gingerly ascended the steps, pausing at the top and leaned against the frame, taking deep breathes to calm himself down.

An old man in line behind him tapped him on the shoulder, “Scared of flying?”

“Yep.”

“Me too. But my daughter’s getting married, so,” the man replied with a shrug.

“Congratulations,” came James’ warbled reply.

“Don’t worry, take your time. I get it.”

James gave the old man a smile from over his shoulder by way of reply. He took a few more deep breathes to steady himself, then entered the plane. He clambered over to his seat, helpfully in the front, and began furiously strapping himself in, tightening the seat belt as far as it would go. He clung nervously to both armrests, staring out of the window at the men loading the luggage into the cargo hold below.

He wondered what would happen to the poor soul who accidentally wound up stranded in the hold, perhaps adjusting a bag at the back or correcting the fastening on one he noticed on his way out, the others oblivious to his absence. The hold door would shut and he would scream and shout, trying to alert the others to the situation, but no one would hear him over the roar of the plane engines. Then the plane would take off and he would hold on to some strap, some bag, something, for a while, but his arms would eventually grow tired and he would succumb to his fate. He would be tossed around from side to side, smashing into the cargo as he went. When the plane finally lands, they’d find him dead in a pool of his own blood, his body and bones shattered beyond hope of creating even a semblance of the man before.

James shook his head clear; he mustn't think of such things. Especially when there was so much else that could much more easily go wrong. The plane could lose connection with ground control, their frequency could be hijacked, turbulence might toss them abou-

No!

He stopped his thoughts midway once again, turning his attention to the other passengers filing in. James had a habit of making short mental notes of the people he was going to be around for any extended period; it made him feel more secure.

Naturally, first class was mostly solitary Swiss and Britons, most likely travelling for work. James could make out a banker by the way he was reading the business section of the newspaper and a lawyer who was working on the contents of a manilla file labelled HARVEY SAWYER VS KURT WAGNER. Other than that, it was anyone’s guess. There was one couple, but thankfully no child. James absolutely detested crying infants, and more so on planes. Their accents sounded like they were Polish. Oh, Poland – a tragedy if there ever was one. Bet no one saw that coming.

James caught himself drifting to death once again and decided there was nothing more he could do. He drained the small plastic bottle from the seat pocket in front of him and pulled his nightcap down. If things were going to go wrong, he'd rather go in his sleep, instead of having to face the danger head-on. With that in mind, he popped another one of Anna’s sleeping pills in, hoping he wouldn't hit the OD limit, and swallowed it dry.

Ten minutes later he wasn't feeling any sleepier, so he resigned to his fate and reached for the Daily Mirror dutifully placed in front of him. He glanced fleetingly at the date — Thursday, February 16th, 1961 — as if to confirm that he really was having to suffer through this nightmare and read the front page.

Bad move.

The top story read "Eight Hours to Live" and was about the United States ice-skating team. Their plane crashed and exploded, killing all seventy-two passengers and crew. James's stomach tightened at the same time as the rest of his muscles loosened, almost as if they were giving up.

They were just kids, none of them more than twenty years old. Their entire lives ahead of them. But they had been snatched up by the brethren of the very thing he now entrusted his life to.

When his body finally reverted to normal, James got up to go to the bathroom, thinking a cold splash of water would help him. He picked out a small kit from his bag in the overhead compartment and made his way down the aisle.

He walked slowly, each step taken deliberately after due forethought. He was quivering with fright, with half his body poised to jump right back into his seat at a moment’s notice the entire time.

James stood by the sink and gripped the edges with both hands, staring directly at his reflection. His eyes, while usually brown, were now a disorienting shade of red. The shock sent him back a few stumbled paces, knocking him into the toilet. He steadied himself with an outreached arm, leaning on the counter, once again staring at the red-eyed lookalike in front of him. James could see the veins popping out of his forehead, crossing over and under each other, throbbing dangerously hard, feeling like they were about to rip themselves out of his body. He shuddered, suddenly feeling very cold, and wrapped his arms around his body tightly, trying to drown out the noise of the cabin and focus on his own breathing.

He doused his face with water and looked up again. His face seemed back to normal. No more red eyes. He took slow, deep breaths as he stood in the small, closet-like cabin in a contraption held together by nuts and bolts at a lethally scary height, desperately trying to forget the fact.

He opened his kit and pushed the toothbrush to the side, his hand curling around the 9mm. He sat on the toilet and stared at its pure black body gleaming in the drowsy yellow light of the cubicle. It would be so easy to just pull down on the little piece of metal and end this misery. He’d never have to fly again, never have to endure this twisted form of torture again. He quickly shook his head clear of these thoughts though and put it back.

He had performed this routine every time he'd flown, never once going beyond just looking at the gun. Sometimes he wondered why he simply didn't leave it at home if he was never going to use it. For reasons he didn't really know himself though, he always kept it back in.

He had actually made it all the way to the taxi without it once, and as he sat in the car, James breathed a sigh of relief, thinking his fear had finally been washed away. But the moment he could no longer see his house in the rear-view mirror, he told the driver to turn back around and had dashed in to grab it.

The moment James returned to his seat, the seat belt sign lit up, and the captain's voice came crackling through the PA system.

"Passengers, this is your captain speaking. We seem to be experiencing some mild turbulence. Nothing to be afraid of, but I'm going to have to ask you all to return to your seats and strap in, nevertheless.” Then, after a beep, “Cabin crew, please take your positions."

"Nothing to be afraid of..." James muttered under his breath. He'd decide that for himself, thank you very much. And he decided there was something to be afraid of and tightened the seat belt until it was pressing into his stomach, set his seat upright, and pulled up the window shade. His head lolled to the side as he stared unseeingly out of the window, his mind wandering all over the place. The pills seemed to finally be working and James did nothing to stop it — he needed to at least mentally get out of there.

The flash from a jolt of lightning snapped him back to the present. He jerked his head towards the window and froze almost instantly. There was a man hanging onto the wing, clinging for his life.

He swayed up and down and side to side, slamming into the wing over and over again. The man feverishly clawed his way forward, as if he saw the tiny window as some form of solace. His mouth opened and closed repeatedly but James couldn't make out any of the words he was saying.

James frantically called the air hostess over.

"Man... wing... lightning... window."

He had trouble forming full sentences, producing only fragments accompanied by frenzied arm movements. When the air hostess finally came to his side, the only thing there was to see outside the window were a few clouds, lazily drifting along the night sky. The steward looked at him with a mixture of concern and confusion and asked if James wanted anything.

"A gin and tonic,” he decided. “Four parts gin." If drugs didn't cut it, alcohol would have to.

Lightning flashed outside again, and the figure had re-appeared. Only this time it wasn't the same person. He took a closer look at the figure in peril and paled when he realised who he was.

"Anna..."

No. No, it couldn't be. Not his Anna. James inched closer to the window, hoping, praying, pleading it wasn't her. Oh, but it was.

No. No, it wasn't. It was just a figment of his imagination. He wouldn't call for help again. He watched helplessly as she was tossed around like the man before her; he watched with desperation as she too tried to make her way forward. But the winds were not as merciful as last time. They did not allow her to make her way to the window as her predecessor had. James was even ready to break it himself and tug her in. But no. The winds picked her up, bashed her against the body of the plane, and sent her downwards, barrelling towards the ground to grant her a fate much like that of the lost cargo man.

Desperately, James called for the air hostess again but didn't even try to offer an explanation this time. He just sat there, curled up in his seat, clinging to his sides. The air hostess — Claudia, her name was — draped a blanket over him and brought him a warm cup of tea, telling him it would help with the nerves.

Needless to say, it didn't, but James fell asleep soon after that, his body finally buckling under the stress it had been handling.

Just under an hour later, Claudia gently woke James up from his pool of sweat and told him they were preparing for landing. He had made it, but felt like some part of him had died up there anyway.

THREE

He checked in at the reception and asked for his bag to be sent up to his room. He told the receptionist he was expecting someone by the name of Leon Meyer and to send him to the rooftop restaurant when he came, then headed there himself. James had been to loads of these meetings-that-weren’t-really-meetings, but he never failed to enjoy one. He never really had a taste for boring board room meetings with drab presentations and subpar food. As soon as James hit the big leagues, he went exclusively to these ones at lavish restaurants with expensive champaign and caviar and clever segues into business deals.

“No clever segues this time,” he corrected himself. This meeting was purely about getting the Swiss back on board as soon as they could.

The lift dinged and opened right onto the restaurant, greeting James with the overwhelming scents of sausages, meatballs, pastas, and beers. It was a purposely small place, designed to look and feel ultra-exclusive, only five tables across. James was shown to the one he had reserved from back home, then began taking in his surroundings, repeating his exercise of making mental notes of who he was sharing a room with.

He decided to start at the far end of the restaurant and work his way towards himself, then beyond. At the very end, overlooking the city below, sat a man that looked like he belonged in a Roald Dahl book. A rather heavyset man, he was stirring a cup of tea with his left hand and riffling through a paper set on the table with the other. He boasted a thick moustache and gave his left hand the occasional break to twirl its end. James watched him for about five minutes but didn't once see him take a sip of the tea.

At the table next to him, sat a man of quite the opposite build. He was tall and wiry, as if the wind may carry him away at a moment's notice. He had a large pitcher next to him, but regarded it with a certain air of suspicion, as if he didn't trust the waiter that brought it to him. Instead, he focused his attention on the fish in front of him. James scowled at the appalling pairing.

The next table was him. He had arrived a bit earlier than their meeting time, but Meyer was now ten minutes late and he didn't particularly like his lack of professionalism. He noted that with some bitterness, then continued with his observations.

Next to him sat a couple on their honeymoon by the looks of it. James guessed either rich parents or incredible luck, or perhaps some combination of the two. They ate out of each other’s plates and settled in an eternal embrace that they didn't seem to be coming out of any time soon.

Finally, with a view of the other end of the city, sat two men thoroughly engrossed in their conversation. They spoke in hushed tones and had barely touched the food in front of them; by the looks of it, weren't planning on at all.

James had just made this last observation when Leon Meyer finally walked in. Dressed in a crisp blue suit, he walked quickly, maintaining his air of bravado nonetheless. James saw him and waved him over.

"Sorry I'm late, James. There was a mess at the office I had to deal with."

James had long learned the art of fake politesse and called upon it once more. "No problem, Leon." Then, reaching into the inner pocket of his coat, "Gave these a little more time to mature," he said, placing a wooden cigar box engraved with his initials on the table.

Meyer gave James a look of appreciation and eagerly took one, chopping the end off with the cutter also from the box, and produced a lighter from his pocket for the two of them.

"Look, Leon," James began. "I respect you and your company enough to skip the usual formalities and just get right to it. What's the problem with the deal? We drafted it after weeks of meetings and made it beneficial to both companies. Yours actually stands to benefit more than ours." Most of what he said wasn't true, but James saw no harm in slipping the little details in. Anything to tip the scales.

"James, I like you. I do. But the boss changed his mind. Here," he said, opening his briefcase and pulling out a file. "We've drafted another deal." He pushed the folder across the table.

James took it and pulled a pen out from his coat, ready to amend the document. They went back and forth for a while, each cancelling out the other's changes until they reached a mutually agreeable middle ground.

The technical term for what conspired would be “price fixing”, but James preferred to think of it as simply allowing British products complete freedom in the British market. They celebrated their new agreement with expensive champaign and admittedly fantastic lobster.

“Thank god the company's paying for everything,” James thought.

Thanks for reading! You can read the full story for as little as $0.86! Why not a full dollar? Because my sense of humour is in need of serious medical attention and I think this would be funny.

This is my first pay-what-you-want project and I really, truly hope it goes well! With the holiday season upon us, it would make a great (print-ready) gift too. Thanks for all your support :)

taglist (ask to be added/removed!): @caspersgraveyard @zephsthings @mujhe-rone-do @shikayatein

[atomic-insomnia]

last line...snippet

seeing @dustylovelyrun post inspired me to put this up, plus I’ve gone so long without any progress on my WIPs this might kickstart me back into working:

“God, the stars are something else when it’s cold out,” Alfred said, folding his arms behind his head.  A lazy, detuned sort of smile stretched across his face as he stared into the dark sky.  “It’s like it clears everything else away.”

The cold and dark made Ivan think along different lines.  “…Alfred,” he said quietly, not even sure he wanted to ask but hit with curiosity, “When was the first time you died?”

Beside him Alfred shifted, wrapping his arms around himself instead.  “…I don’t remember.”

“Oh, no?”  Ivan kept his voice light.

“I really don’t,” Alfred said.  “I was…I was brand-new.  I think it was touch-and-go for a while with me.”

“What does that mean?”

“That, uh, that it could’ve gone either way.”  Alfred sighed slowly, sending up a cloud of breath.  “I could’ve failed to ever take hold.”

“Oh.  What a shame that would be.”  Cupping his hand to block the light, Ivan lit two cigarettes.  A sudden bright flash would’ve ruined the ability to see those stars for a few minutes.  The sharpness of tobacco smoke cut through the cold night air, not quite warm, but a little closer to it.  “Then you would never be here with me.”

“Aw, shut up,” said Alfred with a sharp smirk, “and I’d never have kicked Germany’s ass, or–or–”

“Or bankrupted the West.”

“I–well…”  Tucking his arms in tighter, Alfred sat up, his back against the building.  He didn’t look at Ivan.

Not until Ivan waved one of the cigarettes close enough to get his attention.  He double-took, glancing at Ivan’s face.

“…Spasibo.”

“Your accent is still terrible,” Ivan said.

“Back at’cha.”

“This is my country, I can speak however I like.”

“That’s not what I’ve heard.”

Ivan hissed a smoke cloud through his teeth.  “That is because you keep attempting to subvert and overthrow our socialist way of life.  You capitalist dog.”

Rather than answer him, Alfred took a long drag.  When he came up for air, he tilted his head back.

Watching from the corner of his eye, Ivan said, “…What are you doing?”

The first smoke ring he blew was only a ring because there was no other name for it.  The next two got steadily better.

Ivan knew exactly what the rude capitalist wanted him to say, and he clamped his jaw to stop himself.

The words broke out anyway.  “…Show me how to do that.”

Sure enough, Alfred grinned, all teeth.  Instead, after a slow and contemplative moment, he said, “I know it was in the winter.”

“What was?”

“The first time I died.”  Another drag, another infuriatingly slow smoke ring.  “I don’t actually know where I came from.  England claims he found me in the woods in Virginia, but Tsenacommacah–the Nation-spirit that lived there first–she always claimed the Europeans brought me.  I don’t know, I can’t remember more than little bits and pieces that far back.  I don’t remember Europe, if that’s true.  England tried to set up a colony, and…”

He paused again, but merely rolled the cigarette between his fingers.  “…And winters in Virginia are a lot colder than he was expecting.  I mean–”  And with a sheepish sort of grin he turned to Ivan, tipped his hat.  “Not like yours.”

“It is no insult to me.”  Remembering his own cigarette, Ivan feigned disinterest.  He’d never heard any of Alfred’s childhood; if anything, he’d only noticed the other when America threw off British rule.

“But still, more than he was expecting.  I remember…I remember frostbite, and…”  Alfred frowned down, drew his knees in.  “When I got here, not long after, you asked me if I ever starved to death.”

“…Ah.”

“It…it wasn’t quick.”

“It never is.”

Alfred gave a little laugh, bright and brittle.  “It happened a couple of times in the early years.  Maybe for a hundred years or so.”

“Touch-and-gone?”

“Touch-and-go.  On-and-off.  Yeah.”  He took another drag, although this one didn’t turn into a party trick.  “…I’ve starved more than just then–I guess that’s why I’m always hungry, haha.  A lot of times it happens as immigrants start getting close to shore; I’ll get dizzy, sometimes pass out.  Usually don’t actually die, anymore.  I guess I just pick up on their hunger, you know?”

Frowning, Ivan smoked in silence.  With how many immigrants he had, he’d never noticed–his hunger came about when the people already part of him fell to famine.  He’d certainly known his share of rough winters and failed crops, but…

“You sort of roll your tongue.”

<<What?>>

Hat tipped back, Alfred puffed on the cigarette and blew another smoke ring.  Best yet.  “You sort of keep the smoke in your throat, and tsk your tongue, but like, on the bottom of your mouth.”  He did it again.  A perfect circle.

Instead of trying the way he knew America wanted him to, Ivan slashed his hand through the ring.

Alfred only laughed.

An older scene from Brother, Can You Spare a Dime.  (For reference, this is the 1930′s Great Depression/American Immigrant/Early Soviet Union RusAme slow burn fic I talk about on a regular basis--historical AU but exploring the nations’ nation-weirdness enough that it technically counts as fantasy or magical realism) I’m serious when I say I can’t write attempted flirting without it turning to discussions of mortality.  I like this scene but most likely it’ll be cut or changed heavily to, you know, make something actually happen.  But still, call this proof I am still writing it.

if anyone wants to take this as a sign to post something from their WIP, consider this an open tag!

[jujutsu-headcanons]

Gojo Satoru general headcanons

Let's get one thing clear: this man is absolutely chaotic. He is always full of energy. His energy levels never reach below 50%. He is loud and proud, always running, and never takes a minute to relax.

Do not give him Monster. Shoko did that once and it took her forever to get him off the ceiling. Also, avoid caffeine. Shoko replaces his normal coffee with decaf and he still hasn't noticed the difference. Keep it that way.

He was the class clown when he was younger. He wasn't exactly a trouble maker, but he may as well be. I cannot word that sentence and I am sorry. Next.

All of his teachers assumed he never listened in class, so they always called in him when they thought he wasn't paying attention. It still shocked them every time he rattled off the correct answer.

Not only did he answer the question correctly, but he could also explain his reasoning behind the answer, and if it was multiple choice, explain why the other answers were wrong. 

This tall man child would march up to the board and absolutely fill it to the brim with work, turn around, drop the chalk-like a mic drop and walk back to his desk with the smuggest look on his face.

That doesn't mean he did the work tho

Idk how schools in japan work but we all know schools in America only care about the amount of work you do and not what you actually know so we'll use that for the sake of the headcanon: he had straight D's bc he never turned in his work

Despite not doing the work snd goofing off, teachers actually really liked him

A lot of people liked him and he was super popular, but he still felt alone

Fake friends, you know how that works, he didn't meet any real friends until he became a shaman

Clean freak. This dude actually makes his bed. He scrubs his bathroom twice a week. His desk can get cluttered but he straightens up once a week. He's not exactly a germaphobe because

He cannot respect your personal space and that's actually canon but let me take it a step further 

He's a slapper. Especially when he laughs. It doesn't hurt, it's playful dw. He hugs you from behind especially when he's cold. He picks you up and carries you around. He will grab your wrist, arm, or hand and lead you around even if you're following him. He lays his legs across you or lays across your lap. Puts his head on your shoulder. Platonic cuddling between friends is mandatory. He's just so hands-on it's ridiculous.

Unless you explicitly tell him you're uncomfortable he won't stop

Don't worry, if you aren't in that type of relationship, your no-no square is safe. Except, if you seem chill, he will slap your ass regardless of friendship status. His ass is also slappable. You can't tell me Geto and Gojo didn't run around slapping each other asses, okay

He was weird and scrawny as a child. He didn't start beefing out until he started training to be a shaman and he's still kinda smaller than most beefy boys

He can pick you up and throw you around easily. He carried around a 170 pound Yuji like a sack of potatoes and can easily carry around three times that weight

It's amazing he's so tiny because you remember 2014 Shane Dawson making all of those wack ass desserts that was just s pile of chaos wrapped in chocolate?

He can eat every last bite of one of those monstrosities without getting a stomach ache, gaining weight, or dying basically

He knows bc Yuji dared him to do it

He has really cold hands and feet

He sounds old. Let me elaborate. He's constantly cracking his joints. They also creak when he moves. He complains about body pains like he's 80 y/o

He also shares wisdom with the kids as if he's actually 80 y/o

It's irrelevant advice that doesn't make sense but is also useful. Megumi can't count the number of times he's asked Gojo for feedback on his technique but had been told to remember to chew 40 times or never go to bed angry

Starts off sentences with "now son" and "when I was your age"

He uses his blindfold as a headband when he wants his hair out of his face. He also uses headbands as... Headbands... When he wants to wear sunglasses but get his hair out of his face

He owns so many pairs of sunglasses but he always wears the same pair

He's only bought a handful of them himself, most of them are gifts

No one knows what to get him for Christmas or his birthday bc he has everything, so they resort to sunglasses

His favorite pair is a pair that Shoko and Geto bought him as a gag. He thought they were dead serious, though, so he wore them around for a month

They were heart-shaped, rose-tinted glasses

Can you believe this man doesn't use any gel or anything to keep his hair spiky with the blindfold on? It just naturally defies gravity when the blindfold is on

Tell this man he's pretty because he already knows. He's narcissistic but not the cringy kind

Photogenic as hell. Takes great pictures from any angle. 

He gives everyone a different story as to why he covers his eyes. Sometimes he says it's because his eyes are too pretty and are a distraction. Sometimes he says it's because the sunglasses/bandages/blindfold look cooler than his eyes. Sometimes he says it's to protect the six eyes from seeing things he doesn't want to see. The world may never know

He's tried covering his whole face before, but he thinks he's too pretty for that. He at least wants one of his many amazing features to be shown at all times.

So about his driver's license;

He knows how to drive. He can be a good driver. When he wants to be. He just doesn't have a driver's license.

Now he TELLS people he just never got around to getting one, however, there's a rumor he lost it due to too many parking tickets

It's amazing the only tickets he's ever gotten have been from that and once he got caught without a seatbelt; he would have gotten out of that one if he hadn't been flirting with the police officer so bad

This doesn't stop Gojo from driving places though

He steals Ijichi's car a LOT and Ijichi DOESN'T KNOW HOW like??? The windows are never broken and it doesn't look hotwired-

Gojo has a key

You're not even supposed to be able to duplicate car keys but Gojo did 

Also; none of the first-year trio knows he doesn't have a driver's license, though that much should be painfully obvious

He whips around corners, speeds up at yellow lights, goes "watch this" and does a donut, it's just a mess

The poor students have to sit in the backseat too. Just imagine Megumi with all three seatbelts around him like that one meme.

He thrives off of Nobara and Yuji screaming from the backseat, and he can see Megumi being smooshed because he thought the middle seat was the safest through the rearview mirror

Which he doesn't even need because of the six eyes

Despite being such a reckless driver, he knows when danger will happen, so he's never once gotten in a wreck

He blasts the radio, which makes up for the driving.

Has a habit of getting in a car and ending up in the McDonalds drive-thru

Steals other people's fries and keeps the fullest one for himself.

He was rebellious as a kid and teenager, but hey, at least his juvie record is sealed 

He's been detained and in the back of a cop car many times, but the reason was never really bad enough for him to be arrested. Mostly he's just being mouthy. And the time he got caught spray painting on the side of a building. And that one time he and Getou hopped the fence to get into the local pool. And that other time-

It got worse after Getou wasn't around to get him out of trouble. Suddenly, breaking the rules wasn't fun anymore and he mellowed out. 

Tried alcohol and cigarettes before he was legal. Decided neither was his thing, however, he did start drinking occasionally when he was legal.

He's a fucking chaotic drunk. Oh my god he's absolutely feral

Most bars in the vicinity know him by name and they sigh whenever he walks in

Shoko is his emergency contact. She hates it

Shoko has to drag drunk Gojo home at least twice a month and is not happy about it

Once she left him in an alley. He made it home okay so she guesses it's fine

Once he got so drunk he spilled beer on his sock. The thought the fastest way to dry them was by sticking them in the microwave. Forgot about it until someone asked, "Who the fuck is cooking socks???"

I feel it important he was in the break room of the local grocery store and no one knows how he got there

As he was escorted out he stole a grocery cart and rode away in it while singing Don't Threaten Me (With A Good Time) by Panic! At The Disco

He has no alcohol tolerance at all what so ever

He will literally just stare at you and giggle

It's funny he's really flirty but also doesn't seal the deal. Literally, every woman in that bar is willing to get in his bed but he declines every offer. No one knows why

Its because he respects women

He helps his students break the rules as long as they're within reason. Once night Yuji was really hungry and after having a temper tantrum he couldn't order Uber eats bc the school is supposed to be secret Gojo helped sneak him out to get food. Who needs curfew anyway.

The shirts in his closet range from like twenty bucks to the iconic rich bitch shirt the kids ruined in that one chapter we all know the one 

He still wears that by the way, he calls it "art" 

When he was younger, Megumi drew a picture of Gojo being eaten by his shadow dogs. Gojo found it and now it's framed in his room.

He keeps up with current trends and memes like no one's business. This is how he bonds with his kids.

Don't call him old, but also, he'll tell you to respect your elders it's a mess

He has a lot of games on his phone. You can usually find him holding his phone sideways playing some RPG game he probably spent too much money on 

He did hop on the Pokemon Go hype train but after becoming overpowered he got bored

This happens to a lot of games. He pays way too much money, gets to be the strongest in the server, and gets bored

He likes games where you can kill other people's troops and likes to watch as they lose all their power

I canon him as being borderline sadistic

This is why he's Sakata Gintoki reincarnated

White hair, sweet tooth, black leather clothes, dad vibes, never takes anything seriously bc when he does he's scary as fuck, the works.

He is Sakata Gintoki

He liked Gintama growing up. He watched a lot of iconic shows as they aired. He considers himself an og

He's hella bilingual

Because he's the strongest he goes overseas for missions a lot. Because of this he speaks a lot of languages and knows a lot about international cuisine 

He takes pictures of himself eating disgusting foods like snails. He never likes them but he loves the idea of Nobara gagging back in japan

Has paperwork sitting untouched on his desk from three months ago that he will not touch for at least another three months

Does the crossword puzzles in the newspaper every week

Uses humor as a coping mechanism and it honestly just became a personality

Constantly popping his joints. I'm sorry if you find this gross I too find it gross.

Probably brought home every stray animal he ever met ever until he was at least like 22 y/o

Tags: @wasabito @kittaliapenn

[wolveria]

Inside Your Wires - Ch 6

Pairing: Human!Connor x Android!Reader

Series Warnings (18+ only): Eventual smut, slow burn, fantasy bigotry, violence, brief noncon elements, angst with a happy ending

Chapter summary: Connor gets his new assignment. He's not thrilled.

AO3

Story moodboard by @uh-kitty-got-wet​

Chapter 5 art by @semains​ (18+ only)

November 6th, 2038

Saturday 09:56AM

There was a time when Connor didn’t have to come in on Saturdays. He remembered the days when mandatory overtime was few and far between.

Not anymore. 2038 seemed to be the year shit just kept happening, and now that he thought about it, quite a few of it seemed to be because of androids. Ones gone missing. Disobeying orders. And now, homicidal.

Connor rubbed the bridge of his nose after putting his car into park, regretting how enthusiastically he’d hit the bottle last night. It wasn’t too bad this time, just an annoying throbbing behind his eyes, but it made it more difficult to see and he’d had to squint through his windshield.

Whatever. The reason for his shame-drinking was no longer relevant. Connor just had to survive until lunchtime, and if he were lucky, Hank would let him go early. He tried not to itch at the butterfly bandages on his cheek, applied himself after he’d woken up in a haze with blood on his pillow having completely forgotten the injury existed.

Connor kept his head down as he walked through the lobby of the station and through the security checkpoint to the bullpen proper. He tried not to be completely antisocial, however, and sent weak smiles at the coworkers who bothered to notice he was there.

Helen, Alexander, and Rupert all acknowledged him with various degrees of warmth, some colder than others, and all pretty much deserved. Ralph gave Connor a nervous smile from his chair, though it quickly faded as his eyes flickered to something across the room.

Frowning, he followed Ralph’s eye line across the bullpen and scowled when he spotted Colin leaning casually against Connor’s desk, talking to… someone. He couldn’t see who, Colin’s figure blocking them from view.

Against his better judgement, Connor drew closer, pressure building at the back of his neck, an uneasy feeling of dread that increased with each step.

“Con’s just gonna love this. But seriously, if he bitches about it too much, or gives you a hard time, you can always partner up with me. I won’t mind one bit, promise.”

Connor would have rolled his eyes at his brother’s typical cocksure demeanor, but instead, he went stock still at the familiar voice that answered.

“While the offer is appreciated, Lieutenant, my instructions stipulate that I must assist Detective Anderson with his new, specialized caseload. I’m sure you can understand that CyberLife only wishes to cooperate with the DPD and does not want to interfere with police procedure—“

“What the hell are you doing here?”

The YN800 model blinked and turned its head to meet Connor’s eye, its little blue light blinking for a moment before solidifying again.

It was sitting in Connor’s chair.

“It’s good to see you again, Detective,” it answered, chipper as ever as a fake smile graced its features.

Connor looked the prototype over, his nose crinkling at its appearance. The suit must have been brand new, there were no stains or bullet holes, and her—its hair was once again pinned upwards into a perfect knot.

He felt his insides churn at the near slip, at thinking for even a split second that this thing was a person. Shoving down the crude thoughts of the night before, Connor gave the order through gritted teeth.

“Get. Up.”

The prototype did as it was told, for once. It rose out of his chair, not even having the decency to look chagrined as it straightened its jacket of nonexistent wrinkles.

“I’m sorry, Detective, but I tried to call your phone and left you a message. It was not my intention to surprise you—“

“Oh, no, it’s never your intention to do anything, is it?” Connor snarled back. His headache was in full force now, and he swore he could see the bright lights of the station brighten in time with his heartbeat.

“Aw, c’mon!” Colin slapped him on the shoulder. “Be nice to the temp.”

“Temp?” Connor answered, voice pulled as taut as a wire.

“Yeah, you know. The temporary assistant. The new girl. The—“

He shoved Colin’s hand off his shoulder, leveling a glare at both of them. Colin merely shot him a shit-eating grin while the YN800 stood there, hands clasped behind its back at parade rest, polite and perfect as ever.

“Connor!”

All three of them turned toward the voice booming across the room.

“Get in here!”

Connor glared at the android, as if Hank’s shouting were its fault, which was probably the case.

He turned without a word and stalked to the captain’s office, shoulders hunched as his heart raced and his hands shook at his sides. He let the glass door fall shut behind him, but when he didn’t hear the whoosh of it close, he glanced over his shoulder to see the YN800 had followed him inside.

Great.

Connor stood in front of the desk with his arms crossed.

Hank sat down in his chair, pointedly looking at the chairs in front of his desk. Connor remained standing.

The older man glared, answering Connor’s attitude with a look and a heavy sigh.

“Bet you’re wondering what that’s about.” Hank jerked his chin over Connor’s shoulder. The prototype had taken a spot at the back of the office, observing politely with its hands clasped in front of its hips.

“Yeah, I am.” Connor was a little too cranky this morning to try a more diplomatic approach. “What the hell is it doing here?”

“I’ll get to that. First on the docket, I got a shit ton of android-related cases filling up our database every day and I’m at wit’s end.” Hank took a deep breath, bracing himself as he met Connor’s eye. “Which is why I’m assigning all of these cases to you.”

“You’re what?”

Connor stared at him, dumbfounded.

“You think that case last night was a one-off? We’ve got more android-related crimes rolling in, including assaults and homicides just as bad as the Ortiz case, and right now, you’re the one with the most experience.” Hank leaned his elbows on his desk as he leveled a formidable glare his way. “Is that going to be a problem, Connor?”

 “Yeah, it is a problem, Hank! Why the hell do I have to do this? What about Colin? He was with me at the crime scene and was there for the interrogation!” Connor shoved a finger at the glass wall to prove his point.

Hank’s jaw tightened. Connor had seen that behavior enough times to recognize how he was pushing his luck.

“CyberLife asked for you specifically.”

“What?” Connor blinked, dumbfounded once again, racking his brain but coming up empty. “Why?”

“The hell if I know!” Hank barked back, rising to his feet as he pointed a finger at Connor, “and frankly, I don’t give a damn. Colin’s got enough on his plate—“

“—and I don’t?” Connor interrupted, scowling. Hank sighed and rubbed a hand down his face, and Connor almost felt guilty for his outburst.

Almost.

“That’s not what I said.”

“But it’s what you implied.” He tried not to sound like a hurt child, but, well, that’s exactly what he sounded like.

“For fuck’s sake, Connor! There are more people that are gonna start dying from this!”

“Yeah, I know, but—“

Hank lifted his hand, palm forward, effectively shutting Connor up.

“You saw what one of those deviants was capable of last night, and that was with three of you and another android trying to get it under control! You think the average person stands a chance against one of these fucks? That a little ol’ grandma can defend herself against the murderous robot gardener coming at her with a pair of shears? What the hell happens when a nanny bot decides to take a human kid for itself? Oh, wait, that’s already happened, and you would know that if you checked the goddamn case files I sent you!”

Connor was silent as Hank deflated. The older man leaned back against his desk as he looked through his glass wall out over the bullpen. His voice was rough but much quieter for the next round.

“We’re totally in the dark, Connor. We don’t know how bad this is gonna get and how many androids we’re dealing with. This has the potential to turn into a fucking nightmare with Detroit as ground zero.” Hank’s gaze drifted over Connor’s shoulder to the elephant, or the machine, in the room. “CyberLife was gracious enough to send us a state-of-the-art prototype until this issue is contained. It’s gonna be your partner until such a time that these androids are no longer a threat, and then you’re free to go back to being a misanthropic son-of-a-bitch as much as you like.”

Connor was thoroughly shamed by the end of Hank’s speech, that old familiar feeling of disappointment making his gut roil with nausea, but his anger hadn’t entirely flagged. He clenched his hands tightly to his thighs, fingers desperate for either his coin or his cigarettes.

Connor hadn’t felt the need for one in months. This was bad.

“Hank,” he tried again, his voice soft and pleading in that way he knew Hank couldn’t ignore. “I’m not saying this just to be a pain in your ass. I understand the stakes, but I genuinely believe I’m not qualified for these types of cases. I’m not a CyberLife technician, or an AI specialist, or a computer engineer. I’ve never even owned an android.”

That last one was technically true but only in the barest sense, and Hank gave him a knowing look. It wasn’t without sympathy, and his own answer was given with more kindness than he probably deserved.

“I know, Connor. I also know you’re the sharpest pair of eyes on the force, not to mention the quickest brain and the best instinct. You see shit other people don’t, even Colin, and you’ve got this creepy knack for taking one look at a person and knowing what makes ‘em tick. I’d say you’re almost like an android yourself, but I know how much that’d piss you off.”

Connor gave him another narrow-eyed scowl, and Hank immediately put up his hands as a sign of surrender even as a smirk played on his lips.

“My point is, I need you on this, son. I know it’s not ideal, hell, it downright sucks, but I know you can do this. I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t.”

And there it was. As effective as Connor’s pleading expressions could be, they were nothing in comparison to his need for Hank’s praise. The old geezer knew it, too.

And throwing a “son” into the mix was a goddamn dirty move, but Connor couldn’t even muster up annoyance. He just sighed, gave Hank the smallest hint of a smile, and said, “All right. But only until these cases are solved. Once the deviancy issue is addressed, the prototype is going back to CyberLife and you never give me an android case again.”

“I’ll pay for the postage to ship it back myself,” Hank said, smile wide and pleased as he patted Connor on the shoulder before returning to his desk. “And I want daily reports on the progress you and your new partner are making. Gotta make sure CyberLife’s best is pulling its weight.”

“I can assure you, Captain Anderson, I am worth every penny. And considering it took a small fortune to build me, I—“

“Yeah, yeah,” Hank interrupted the prototype, using that catchphrase that Connor and all of his brothers had picked up years ago. “Don’t let the door hit you on the way out.”

The android blinked almost comically before giving a slow nod. It then turned to face Connor, straightening its back at attention, and he rolled his eyes. He was still being handed the shit end of the stick, but he couldn’t deny that the cases were piling up and Hank really did need the extra help.

But why, out of all the androids in the world, did it have to be one like that.

Exhaling sharply through his nose, Connor turned and left Hank’s office, not waiting to see if the android would follow, knowing with a sinking feeling, it would.

Next Chapter

[221bshrlocked]

Okay. Here me out. Leaving Javi a note telling him to meet you at your place around midnight 😏

Bruh, you’re killing me and you know perfectly well I am incapable of not writing something down when I get these kinds of messages. ugh. now i’m hot and bothered. Again. I blame you for this and for not being able to start on the Pedro/Sebastian/Reader fics...but enjoy this.

He was already having a hard time ignoring you during debriefing, ignoring the side glances and the smiles and the way you constantly moved just so he could spare you a look. But then you had the audacity to slip a note in his back pocket as you left the meeting and he all but lost it, ignoring Steve’s teasing remarks and almost cussing him out when he heard him laugh at his blush.

Waiting until everyone left the room, he fished the note from his pocket and unfolded it, smiling like a schoolboy when he read your words and shoving it back in his pocket as he returned to his desk. You were standing next to Steve discussing something about the meeting and Javier narrowed his eyes at you when he saw you lean over and whisper something in Steve’s ears.

As soon as you left, Javier sat down and crossed his legs, lighting a cigarette and waiting until Steve turned his way before warning him.

“Fucking watch it.” It was more of a growl than a hiss really and Steve snorted at his partner before holding up his hands and pointing at his wedding ring.

Javier wasn’t sure how he’d managed to keep his mind from steering towards you all day long but as the sun set and the moon rose in the night sky, he was sure he has never been edged for this fucking long. As the clock struck eleven, he decided to hit up the bar near the building where you stayed, hoping to relax before making his way towards you.

He should have known better. As soon as he walked in, he saw you sitting and chatting up the bartender, swirling a clear drink around before throwing it back and asking him for another. He walked towards you, pulling out the chair and lighting a cigarette before nodding towards the man.

“Whiskey por favor...” It was a forced request and you shook your head when you remembered how much he hated it when you laughed at others’ jokes.

“You know, jealousy isn’t an attractive trait Javi.” You winked at him before paying for the drinks, downing the vodka in one sip before standing up and leaning towards him.

“But you make it look so sexy baby.” You whispered in his ears, letting your hands trail down his chest before grabbing his inner thighs. He groaned against you, dragging a breath from his cigarette as you kissed his cheek before walking away.

Javier watched as you sauntered out of the bar with an extra sway to your hips, turning around before exiting and winking at him.

“Pinche puta madre,” he whispered under his breath before mirroring your actions and chugging down the whiskey, forcing a smile at the bartender and leaving a tip right before leaving. He wasn’t a desperate man, far from it, but he felt that it would be rude to keep you waiting.

Running across the street, he pushed the code to the gate and went up the stairs two at a time, strutting straight to your door while attempting to calm his nerves.

He shook his head when he saw it was cracked open, slamming it behind him and not caring how loud he was being as he made his way to your bedroom.

“Are you out of your fucking mind? The hell were you thinking leaving the door unlocked?” Javier didn’t expect to see you almost naked and he hated how distracted he became whenever he saw the expanse of your skin.

“Left it open for you mi amor.”

“Anyone could have walked in.” He was finding it harder to stay in control of his voice, clenching his jaw when he saw you walking towards him in nothing but a bra and panties.

“You’re not anyone Javi.” You smiled at him, wrapping your arms around his neck and stepping on his shoes to reach his cheek.

“And how did you know I was going to come now bebé?” His voice was much lower now, hands hovering against the skin of your hips to try and hold off just a little while longer.

“You’ve been undressing me with your eyes all fucking day Javi, that’s how I knew you were going to follow me.” Licking his neck, you stopped right at his Adam’s apple and kissed it before sucking on the cartilage until you felt him wrap his arms around you.

“And you’ve been eye-fucking me all day sweet girl.” He didn’t push you away, enjoying the attention you were giving him and finding it uncharacteristically calming. He thought it was hilarious, the first time you told him just how much his neck turned you on. No one has ever said that to him. Previous lovers usually complimented his lips, his tongue, and not surprisingly, his dick. But then you came along and refused to stop talking about the way his fingers were the right size, and he wasn’t sure if that was in reference to the way he fucked you with fingers sometimes or how he loved to keep hold of your throat as you rode him. And he truly enjoyed those days where you were somehow hornier than him because you went on and on about his mustache and his neck and his jaw and his fucking thighs. It drove him mad.

“Guilty as charged Agent. Now, you wanna put those cuffs to good use or should I just call Steve t-”

“Don’t you fucking dare querida.” You giggled when he growled in response, turning you around and throwing you on the bed. You didn’t bother to turn around, looking over your shoulder to watch him as he stripped down to nothing and joined you.

“Oh, what do we have here?” You smiled when you felt his cock hit your ass cheeks, shaking your hips when you felt him pull down your panties and push them against his nostrils.

“Smell so fucking sweet, all the god damn time.” Javier was talking more to himself than you and he narrowed his eyes down at you when he saw the way you were eyeing him.

“Javi please, I need you. Just fuck me already.”

“You sure you don't wanna call Steve cariño?” He was teasing you, unhooking your bra and trailing his eyes down the curves of your back as you took it off and threw it away. He pushed the head of his cock in your cunt and held himself there, waiting for you to beg for him.

“Please Javi, lo siento...I don’t want anyone else baby. I want you to fuck me, please...missed this cock. Missed having you fill me up with your cum...don’t you wanna feel me baby?” You knew what your words did to him, even if he didn’t tell you. That was the thing with Javier, once he heard you begging for him, he’d forego all plans of teasing you. And just as you knew, Javier was bottoming out and throwing his weight on you, hissing in your ears as he slowly bucked his hips against your ass and filled you up.

“Fucking shit sweetheart. You’re always so tight around me. So warm and tight and fucking heavenly.” Javier bit down on your shoulder, sliding his arm beneath you and cupping your breasts to keep some semblance of control. You were panting under him, occasionally gasping his name when you felt him pinch and roll your nipples in between his fingers.

He alternated between deep and slow thrusts to quick and shallow ones, enjoying the way you whined and moaned every time he changed his pace just to deny you of your orgasm. With each pass of his cock, you felt your cunt squeeze tighter around him, the wet, squelching sounds you were making letting him know just how much you wanted him tonight.

“Come on querida, don’t fall behind.” Javier moaned against your ear, snapping his hips again and again until the only sounds in the room where your combined heavy pants and his navel hitting your ass cheeks.

“Just want your hands Javi, I- ah fuck, I’m so close baby you fuck me so good. No one- oh god, no one fucks me like you Javi. Please, I wanna cum. Wanna cum on your cock oh god, oh fuck- right there, right fucking there.”

“Fucking hell baby that’s it. Taking my dick so deep...so well. Cum on me, let me feel this sweet cunt clench around me. Milk me dry mi cariño..fuck, ah fuck- cum on me. Now!” His pace faltered, and he felt your legs shaking beneath him just as he pushed his cock one last time inside you before coming, and you bit his wrist when you felt him coating your walls with streaks of warm cum. He rubbed at your clit furiously, hissing when you violently squeezed around him as you reached your peak. When you tried to reach down and stop him, Javier shook his head against you and bit your back, continuing his assault on your pussy until you were begging him to stop.

When he finally pulled away and rolled to his side, you turned your face towards him and let out a deep sigh of relief. He reached down to his pants and took out another cigarette, lighting it as he sat up against the headboard and motioned for you to come to him. You grabbed the covers and haphazardly threw them over the two of you, nuzzling into his side as he drew random patterns on your shoulders.

“Next time you want me fuck you querida, don’t give me a twelve-hour heads up.” He looked serious but you knew this was as close to him being playful as he could get.

“Well, I just wanted to give you something to look forward to...”

“Yeah well, I barely got anything done today...’ve been fucking hard since I read your note.”

“I mean you can always just fuck me on your desk.” You smiled when he raised an eyebrow at you before blowing out smoke through his nose. Only Agent Javier Peña could make smoking look this sexy.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Showing everyone how much of a good girl you can be.” He finally cracked that infamous toothy smile at you and you swore your heart was close to leaping out of your chest and flying out the window.

“Only for you Javi, only for you.”

[lupiiifics]

Lucky To Love You

Fic #2 Posted on AO3 on October 1, 2021 for Luzeni Friday on Twitter.

A/N: I swear my stories aren't going to be formatted like this. It's just that I formatted it to fit AO3 so I wasn't sure how to split the chapters here. I didn't want to post them separately, so this is how I did it. Hope it's not too jarring. Next story will be posted on October 8, 2021.

Summary: Zenigata and Lupin agree to a date in Lupin's jail cell. Some hijinks occur, but it's mostly just pining and fluff.

Word Count: 6,988

Chapter 1:

"He's coming."

Goemon appeared between Lupin and Jigen's shoulders, the first sign of him being the hilt of Zantetsuken. His hand gripped the shoulder of the seat in front of him, and Lupin looked back just in time to see blue lights flashing in the distance.

" Shit . How do you do that?" He asked, glancing at the samurai. "I thought we'd have a clean getaway tonight, but it looks like Pops has other plans."

"I thought you kept this one secret? How'd he find us?" Jigen asked.

Lupin shrugged. "Dunno. That guy has some sixth sense when it comes to us."

"When it comes to you , you mean," Jigen corrected. He pulled his Magnum from its holster and popped the chamber to count the amount of bullets. "Want me to take care of him?"

"Maybe. How many are there?"

Jigen turned in his seat, peering past Goemon to stare out the back windshield. "It's just him and his lacky. No one else."

Lupin nodded, tightening his grip on the steering wheel. "Hold off for now. I'll signal you when I need you to slow 'em down."

Jigen lowered his hand but didn't put away his gun. "What're you plannin'?"

Lupin waved a hand in front of them, steadily accelerating to try and outrun their pursuers. They were fast approaching a large copse of trees, the plush green blur becoming clearer as the seconds passed. "I'm gonna try and lose them."

"You sure?" Jigen angled his head upwards until one of his eyes was visible, his bangs peaking through to frame his face. "I could at least stall them."

"Don't waste your ammunition. Save it for when we really need it."

Jigen shrugged, leaning back to kick his feet up on the dash. He pushed his hat down over his face again and stuffed a cigarette from his pocket into his mouth. "Suit yourself. Just don't complain to me later when he catches you."

"He won't catch me," Lupin said, matter-of-factly. "I'm Lupin the Third!"

"That hasn't stopped him before," Jigen muttered. “That guy can’t resist putting his handcuffs on you, can he?”

Lupin grinned, glancing through the rearview mirror again. “Hey, I can’t help being irresistible. It comes with the charm of being me!”

The blue lights were fast approaching, as was the forest. He slammed on the breaks and pressed the clutch to the floor, shifting down until he felt the car catch enough to turn. He jerked the steering wheel, pressing Jigen up against the passenger side door, and throwing Goemon against the back seat. He came up with a glare on his face, his fierce stare peering at him through the rearview mirror.

“You could have warned us,” Goemon said, gripping Zantetsuken. The debris from their sudden shift fell through the sunroof, covering each of them in fallen branches, leaves, and dirt. Lupin ignored the yells of protest coming from his two partners, pressing down the small dirt road in hopes of losing Zenigata. The blue lights still stubbornly pursued them, however, a permanent fixture in the reflection of his mirrors.

The sound of the sirens mixed with the sound of crunching metal as long grey streaks appeared along the sides of his precious Fiat. He pressed his cheek against his window, watching as the trees scratched his car. “ Fuck . Pops is gonna owe me for this one.”

“Ain’t the first time I’ve heard you say that,” Jigen drew a pull from his cigarette, blowing the smoke out through his nose. “You gonna actually hold him to it, this time?”

Lupin leaned forward, shifting as he accelerated deeper into the forest. It was a bumpy ride, throwing each of them around the car as the forest grew more narrow.

“Hush you,” Lupin said. He leaned over, not taking his eyes off the path ahead of him. “Gimme a taste of that, would ya?”

“Thought you hated Marlboros?”

Lupin craned his head, shrugging. “Can’t really pull one of mine out right now, can I? I’m driving.”

Jigen huffed. “Fine. Here.”

He held the cigarette out and allowed Lupin to suck on the end of it. As soon as he pulled away, he crushed the cigarette between his fingers, shoving it into the car’s ashtray and pulling another from the pocket of his jacket.

Lupin laughed the smoke forward to filter against the windshield. It rose overhead and escaped through the sunroof. “Grumpy much, Jiji?”

Jigen ignored him, lighting his brand new cigarette. Goemon leaned forward between them again, his face grim and his hair dotted with leaves and spots of dirt.

“The car will not last,” he said, indicating their slowing speed with the hilt of his sword. ���Zenigata will catch up.”

Lupin looked between the samurai and the speedometer. “What? No! She can’t give up on us now!”

Jigen held up his Magnum again, eyes glinting with obvious mirth. “You want me to slow them down now?”

The car began to sputter, dying like a star at the end of its lifecycle. “I’m not sure there’s much point. Looks like we’re running from here. Goemon, you got the stuff?”

Goemon held up a duffle bag full of loot, the pockets glimmering with various pieces of gold, silver, and whatever else they could find that they deemed worth enough to take. He hefted it against the top of one of his shoulders, hopping through the sunroof right as the car came to a stop at the end of a clearing. He drew Zantetsuken in one fluid motion, sending the surrounding trees crashing to block Zenigata’s pursuit. They could hear the inspector yelling on the other side, obviously frustrated to be stopped in his goal of catching them.

“LUPIN! Move these trees, dammit!”

“Sorry, Pops!” Lupin shouted over the chaos. “But I’ve gotta run.”

“Oh no you don’t!”

Zenigata exited his police car and began climbing the fallen trees. When Jigen and Goemon saw this, they began to back away.

“Whelp, I’m outta here. You comin’, Goemon?”

The samurai nodded. “I’m right behind you, Jigen.”

Lupin turned to follow them, but found his arm restrained by a familiar set of handcuffs. He looked back, and found Zenigata half slumped over the trees, grinning at him with a thick rope clutched between his fingers. “I’ve got you now, Lupin!”

Lupin turned toward his friends, watching as they continued to run away from him. “Wait, no. Guys, help me !”

Jigen gave him a sympathetic look while Goemon remained stoic in their escape.

“Sorry, boss,” Jigen said, “but we gotta keep the goods safe, right?”

“No! You’ve got to keep me safe, you bastards!”

Jigen ignored him. “We’ll be sure to give you your share when you escape, okay boss? See ya later!”

“What?! No. Jigen , get your ass back here.”

They disappeared out of the clearing, leaving Lupin alone with Zenigata and Yata. Lupin slowly turned to find Zenigata standing behind his shoulder, tugging his hand up to grin at the cuffs.

“Thought you could escape from me, did you?” He asked. He untied the rope and grabbed Lupin’s other hand to trap behind his back. “Now you’re coming back with us to the station.”

“Aw, but Pops. Tonight was supposed to be a quiet night. I didn’t even send out a calling card.”

“I don’t care!” Zenigata beamed, his face absolutely alight with pride. “Wherever you go, I follow, remember?"

Lupin hunched his shoulders and blew out a defeated sigh. "Normally I'd call that romantic, but with you I'm not so sure."

"Call it whatever you want. You're not getting away this time, Lupin ," Zenigata said. He turned toward the pile of trees and pulled Lupin along with him. "Yata! Come help me load our prisoner."

"Yes, sir!" Yata poked his head up from where he had climbed the trees, reaching an arm down to do just as Zenigata had asked. "Boost him up. I’ll pull.”

#

Zenigata fumbled with his cellphone, struggling to dial the number of his police chief. Yata did his best to help him, but there wasn't much he could do for a man as stubborn as the Inspector. Lupin watched helplessly from the back seat, listening as the two bickered.

"Just let me dial the number—"

"No, I already told you I got it. Here, look. See? It's ringing!"

Zenigata held the phone gleefully to his ear, a large grin spreading across his face. Yata's expression was a little less enthusiastic, exhausted against his superior's relentless tenacity.

Zenigata didn't notice this. His voice was bright as he said, "hello? Chief? Yeah, we got 'em! We caught Lupin. We're transporting now."

Lupin had already slipped his cuffs, but his escape was thwarted by this car's lack of back-door handles. This wasn't Zenigata's typical police car. It didn't have a sunroof either.

He wrapped his arms around the headrests of the seats in front of him, leaning to poke his head between the two police officers. Yata jumped when he noticed the thief, while Zenigata ignored him and finished his report.

"We'll be there in an hour. Have his cell prepped and ready for me, alright? Yes, sir. I'll give you the full run-down once I have Lupin locked up tight."

"Sir—" Yata sputtered, staring wide-eyed at Lupin. He held his hand to his holstered handgun, ready to use it if Lupin decided to try anything hasty. Zenigata remained calm as he felt Lupin snake his hand around his left shoulder. He simply said his goodbyes, hung up the phone, and turned to look at their prisoner.

“You slipped your cuffs,” he said, voice flat.

Lupin held up the cuffs in question, hanging them off the top of his forefinger. He grinned. “You know me, Pops. I’ve never been one to be restrained.”

“I beg to differ,” Zenigata said. “Seeing as I’ve got you where I want you, and we’re heading back to the station now.”

Lupin shrugged and fell back against his seat. "I'll find a way out of this. I always do. You got a smoke?"

Zenigata grumbled, much of his initial enthusiasm gone from his body language. He rummaged through his pocket for his cigarettes and lighter, pulling one out, lighting it, and handing it back to Lupin. Yata stared at him as the cigarette left his lips, his entire face twisted in confusion.

"You're actually giving him one?"

Zenigata shrugged. "They haven't been tampered with, so why not? Not like he'll get many opportunities in prison anyway."

Yata slumped his shoulders. "You're too kind, Inspector. He's a thief!"

"Hey, just ‘cause he’s a thief, doesn’t mean I can’t treat him with respect.” Zenigata said.

Yata sighed, and Lupin laughed at the reserved look on the young police officer’s face. This earned him a glare worthy of Goemon, and Lupin’s laughter only got louder.

“Zenigata, with all due respect, you’re hopeless…”

#

His cell was at the back of the police station, past the rows of office desks, people, and officers. The room was dark and windowless, with lights that were controlled by whoever was guarding him. The cell door was heavy and automated, with no obvious control panel, nor way Lupin could conceivably hack it. He realized then that this cell had been specifically created to contain him, at least temporarily, until they could figure out a way to keep him from escaping. It was kind of impressive actually, until he realized the reality of what that would mean.

“You’ve been doing your research,” Lupin said, looking around. There was a bed suspended by wire in the corner of the room, and a mirror and toilet behind a wall for him to use.

“Told you you weren’t going anywhere,” Zenigata said. He pressed his hand against the back of Lupin’s shoulder, pushing him forward into the cell. “Welcome to your new home, Lupin~”

Lupin was beginning to panic, though he hid it under a veneer of careful planning. He straightened the orange jumpsuit they’d forced him into. Anything to make him look, and feel, composed. “ Temporary home, you mean. You know I’ll bust outta here eventually.”

Zenigata smiled at him and started to turn to leave the cell. “Whatever you say, Lupin.”

Lupin stumbled forward, unaware of the movement until it was actually happening. He caught Zenigata’s wrist in a plea to get him to stop. “Wait.”

“What?” Zenigata raised a dark eyebrow at him, turning to stare at their intertwined arms. “Do you need something?”

“Let’s make a deal.”

“A deal?” Zenigata shook his head, pulling away. “I don’t make deals with criminals, Lupin. You know that.”

Lupin was desperate. “A bet then. If I can make it through a week, you have to go on a date with me.”

Zenigata’s face flushed red and he took a step backwards. “A date ? Are you out of your mind?”

“Probably,” Lupin said, “but anyway. What do you say? Will you accept?”

Zenigata pressed his back against the cell door, face still flushed with what Lupin thought was embarrassment. “Don’t you have Fujiko? Or Jigen? Why would you want me ?”

“Why wouldn’t I want you?” Lupin asked, genuinely surprised. “You’re my rival , Zenigata. No cop in the world has ever managed to capture me for more than a night, and you’ve done it more than I can count. You’re my equal .”

“What about the others?” Zenigata asked. “Won’t they be angry?”

Lupin waved a hand. “Nah, they won’t care.”

Zenigata spluttered. “But isn’t that… cheating?”

“ Zenigata …” Lupin stared at him, a smile slowly growing to meet his eyes. “People can be polyamorous.”

“R...Right.”

Lupin edged toward the inspector eagerly. “So? What do you say?”

Zenigata rubbed his face. He was silent for several moments, seemingly going over the pros and cons in his head.

“This isn’t some plan to escape, is it?”

Lupin shrugged. “That depends. Where will the date take place?”

Zenigata scanned the room with his eyes, a plan slowly forming in his mind. “Here.”

“Really? How?”

“We’ll figure it out,” Zenigata said, “but we’re sure as Hell not doing it anywhere else.”

Lupin drooped his shoulders, disappointed that his idea hadn’t quite worked how he expected. “Aw, you’re no fun.”

“Just be glad I’m gonna let you do this at all.”

“So is that a yes?”

Zenigata looked like he was about to sign his soul away. He exhaled and rolled his shoulders. “ Yes , but only if you make it a week. Otherwise, the entire thing is off.”

Lupin shouted his excitement, throwing his arms around the inspector’s shoulders. “I’m looking forward to it!”

Zenigata allowed Lupin to nuzzle into his neck for a moment, enjoying the contact as much as he could allow. A moment later, he pried the thief off of him, and missed the warmth of his arms almost immediately. “Seven days,” he said. He held up seven fingers. “One week from today, or the date’s off.”

Lupin saluted him loyally, stepping back with a grin bright on his face. “Yes, sir! One week.”

Zenigata gave Lupin a small smile, stepping to turn back to the door. He paused for a width of a second, expecting something else, but the only sound he heard was the squeak of Lupin’s bed as the prisoner climbed into it. He wasn’t sure why he was disappointed as he left the jail cell. There shouldn’t have been anything else he was expecting.

#

As soon as the door closed, and Lupin was sure Zenigata was gone, he tugged at the edge of his ear until a small earpiece popped out into his hand. He played with the contraption for several seconds, bending and contracting it until he had it how he liked it. Then he hooked it back to the plastic by his ear, and grinned when he heard the other end pick up.

Jigen sounded tired as he answered, and Lupin wondered if he had woken him. “Boss?”

“Hey, Jiji . Listen. I need a favor.”

Chapter 2:

Report #1, Zenigata Koichi. Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department:

“Day one of Lupin’s imprisonment was an overall success. Lupin himself was cooperative. He answered my questions, followed orders, and did his best to seem like a perfect prisoner. Most of his first day was spent lounging on the bed. When I asked if he needed anything, he requested extra blankets. This seemed to be for comfort, as he used them as pillows and laid one over the sheets on the mattress. Otherwise, there is nothing else to report. He asked me for details on the date, and I hesitated to answer. I’m still not sure what I’m feeling over our bet, but my heart keeps skipping beats. Maybe I should go see a doctor?”

Report #2, Zenigata Koichi. Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department:

“Day two came with a string of complications, none of which seemed to affect Lupin or his seemingly unwavering determination to make it through this week. I hadn’t expected him to be so positive throughout this experience. So far he’s been nothing but smiles when in the past, it was always grandeur and posturing. I feel like he’s hiding something from me, though I can’t figure out what. I will get to the bottom of it, however. He can’t hide from me! I know all his secrets. Also… he called me ‘handsome.’ I’m not sure if that’s information I should share in my reports, but I can’t stop thinking about it.”

Report #3, Zenigata Koichi. Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department:

“I think his facade is starting to crack. When I approached his cell at the beginning of my shift, I found him shouting orders to the men guarding his door. Of course, this stopped once I announced myself. The men wouldn’t answer me when I asked what he had been shouting about. Instead, they told me it was nothing and, even when ordered, ignored me when I asked them to tell me. I entered Lupin’s cell angry, which was a mistake, because he caught me off guard with a hug from behind. I was so startled that I threw him off. Of course, he laughed about it. Sometimes I forget how damn good of a man Lupin can be. It takes a lot to piss him off. Apparently throwing him against a wall isn’t enough to break him down.”

Report #4, Zenigata Koichi. Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department:

“Day 4 and I think Yata has finally given up on me. He refuses to work with me on Lupin’s imprisonment, instead choosing to pursue the other three. So far, he hasn’t made much leeway. I warned him that this would be the case. Lupin might have screwed up by allowing himself to get caught, but Jigen and Goemon are a whole other monster when put together. And who even knows what’s going on with Fujiko? Lupin doesn’t seem to know where she is, but he’s not concerned, so neither am I. I instructed Yata to keep looking, if only to keep him from judging me. He seems disappointed in my deal with Lupin. Personally, I don’t see the issue with it if it keeps him in jail. We’ll have to see how it goes. That is, if Lupin makes it through all 7 days and Yata stops sighing whenever he looks at me.

Lupin was just as sugar-coated as usual today. He kept asking me opinions on things we could do during our date. I’m not sure if that was his way of flirting with me or if he was simply trying to make small talk. He does seem fairly sincere in his affections, but Lupin is like that with a lot of people. I don’t know if I can trust him. The men cheered when I exited the cell and I found several post-it notes with words of encouragement at my desk. I’m not certain I like what they’re all getting at.”

Report #5, Zenigata Koichi. Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department:

“We ran into our first actual issue with Lupin today. He seemed oddly defeated when I visited him in his cell, though he put up a facade almost as soon as he noticed me. Otherwise, he was energetic. I don’t know if being in the cell is starting to take its toll, or if he’s accepted his future imprisonment. He wasn’t lying when he said I’d done my research. The cell itself is tailor made to keep him contained, plus it’s at the back of the police station. If he were to escape, he’d have to go through me and every officer on duty in the office. He might be a master thief who had escaped from impossible odds time and time again, but everyone has their limit. He is just one man, and as far as Yata has told me, there’s no sign of Jigen or Goemon on their way to save him. As far as I can tell, they’ve abandoned him. Maybe that’s why he’s so listless? He’s probably missing his partners. I’ll try my best to make him happy during his time here, if only to wipe that hurt puppy look off his stupid monkey face.”

Report #6, Zenigata Koichi. Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department:

“I can tell Lupin is trying to come up with a way of escaping after our date in two days. He was restless when I found him this morning. I don’t think he’s really slept since I caught him, and while that shouldn’t concern me, it does. I tried asking him about how he was feeling, and he just dodged the question. I wonder if this is what he’s like with all of his partners. Is he open with Jigen, Fujiko, and Goemon? Or does he thrive on hiding behind a mask? He seems to be trying to convince me he’s fine, but I can see he’s not. I don’t think he likes being alone. He thrives off of other people, but I can hardly let him around other prisoners. It’s not that he’s particularly dangerous. He’s rarely even violent. He’s just flighty. If I let him anywhere but the bath house and his cell, he’ll get too many ideas and be out of my hands before I even know it. Maybe that’s not a risk right now with our date at the end of the week, but it becomes a risk as soon as that date is over. I’m not sure if this entire thing is just some elaborate scheme to take advantage of me, but he does seem to actually like me. I keep asking what it is he sees in me, an old police inspector, and he keeps saying the same thing. We’re destined rivals, which means we’re destined to be together.”

Report #7, Zenigata Koichi. Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department:

“The date is tomorrow night, which seems to have revived Lupin’s spirits a bit. He gave me a hug again when I entered his cell, though he waited until I could see him before actually doing it. This time, I didn’t throw him off me, though part of me kind of wanted to. I just can’t wrap my head around what’s happening here. We’re on the opposite sides of the law. I shouldn’t have this pressing need for him to be nearby, but I do. I’ve tried so long to push these feelings aside, or to channel them into capturing him, and now that I have, I don’t know what to do with myself. I’ve started to realize that this is the way it’s always been. That my desire to capture him was more than just my job. It was personal, and I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do about that. The men seem supportive, with the only detracting person still being Yata. He seems to have overall accepted the fact that this is something that’s happening. I don’t know how to explain to him why I have to do this. Hopefully, he’ll eventually understand.”

Report #8, Zenigata Koichi. Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department:

“I still think Lupin is hiding something from me, and when I tried to ask about it, he once again ignored me. For now, I’m giving up on figuring it out by focusing on tonight. Lupin seemed over the moon when I talked to him about it this morning. I’m mostly nervous. I’m getting off an hour early to go home and prepare. The men seemed excited for me. They kept cheering me on about it. They even got Yata to join in, though he seemed embarrassed. It makes me happy to finally see him come around. Yata’s still new to this. I think it’s taken him a while to understand that the life of someone like us is not all about catching criminals. Sometimes, it’s about capturing them and then going on dates with them. I still can’t believe I agreed to do this.”

Chapter 3:

Zenigata pulled up to the police station embarrassed.

He was dressed in a dark brown pinstripe suit, with a pristine white dress shirt, a cream and gold striped tie, and an old pair dress shoes. He felt oddly stuffy when walking into the station. Like he looked out of place. Most of the people on duty complimented him as he passed, and suddenly he wished he had not gone without his hat. At least with it he could hide, and maybe get rid of this feeling of wanting to flee. This was Lupin’s reward, after all. He couldn’t back out now, not when the thief had buckled down and done what he had promised to, anyway.

He noticed about halfway through the office that most of his colleagues wouldn’t look him in the eye. Normally this wouldn’t be something that bothered him. He could be intimidating, especially to younger officers, based on his title alone, but this was different. People he’d worked with for years didn’t quite meet his gaze. They dodged his questions, welcomed him and asked him what he had planned, but they didn’t look at him. It got to the point that he thought something was wrong with the way he looked, and a wave of self-consciousness washed over him once again.

The only outlier was Yata, who led him back to Lupin’s cell with the same smile he always had on his face. He treated Zenigata as he normally did, and for the moment, that helped to calm him down.

“Is something wrong?” Zenigata asked as they passed the rows of desks.

Yata shook his head. “I don’t believe so. Why do you ask?”

“It’s just that everyone seems to be acting weird.”

Yata shrugged. “It’s not everyday a police inspector has a date with a world-renowned criminal. I’m not sure it’s surprising that they’re acting differently.”

Zenigata shifted the basket he had brought with him to rest under one of his arms. “You’re not mad at me, are you?”

Yata looked back, holding out his keycard, but not actually scanning it against the hidden scanner quite yet. “No. Why would I be mad?”

Zenigata rubbed his neck. “Well, I know this isn’t quite what you expected when you agreed to become my partner.”

Yata laughed and it surprised him. “With all due respect, sir, nothing we’ve done so far has been what I was expecting. It’s been fun though, and I hope we continue to work together.”

“So you’re really not upset at me?”

“No. I thought it was odd at first, but then the men reminded me that this is always how it’s been between you and Lupin.”

Zenigata was astonished. “That’s not true…”

Yata smiled. “Are you sure? From what they tell me, you’ve always been smitten with him.”

“That’s… okay, probably true, but I don’t know if ‘always’ is the word I’d use.”

“Whatever you say, Inspector.” Yata scanned the keycard, and punched in a code that was linked to his work phone. “You ready?”

Zenigata sighed, looking down at himself and the basket. He looked back up to Yata and nodded. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

The feeling of nervousness was so strong his chest hurt. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting as Yata opened the door. Maybe it would be empty? Maybe this was how they discovered how Lupin had played them? Maybe it would be normal? He didn’t know.

What he wasn’t expecting was the sound of music, the smell of scented wax candles, or the shuffle of feet as Lupin rushed to finish whatever it was he was preparing. He stepped through to see the thief turn on his heel, greeting Zenigata just as the door to his cell slammed shut behind him.

“Pops! Welcome!” Lupin swung his arms aside to showcase what he had been working on. It was then Zenigata noticed that both the room, and Lupin, had been transformed to match that of some fancy French restaurant. There was a tall circular table in the middle of the room, covered by a bright white sheet. On this table sat a basket of red wine and two crystalline glasses, as well as two tall candles and a single red rose in a vase. On the floor near the table was a small black cassette radio playing a song Zenigata didn’t recognize. It said,

“ I ain't got any worries

And I ain't got any money

But luck seems to follow

Wherever I go

When you said hello

My luck disappeared

You didn't even know I cared. ”

Lupin wore a black three piece suit, fancier than anything Zenigata owned, with a white ruffled blouse, and shiny silver cufflinks. He was so surprised by this, he didn’t even hug back when the thief wrapped his arms around his shoulders. His mind was too preoccupied with trying to figure out how he’d done this, along with processing just how good Lupin looked in that suit.

“What is this?” Zenigata asked, voice weak.

Lupin pulled away from him and smiled. He led Zenigata to the table, and pulled out one of the two chairs for him to take. “Our date,” he said. “It’s not much, but I hope you like it.”

“How? How did you do this?”

Lupin’s smile turned into a grin. He picked up the glasses and placed one in front of Zenigata. “I enlisted the help of your men. They planned everything. All I did was order some stuff for Jigen to drop off. Like this wine, or my favorite suit.”

“They… really? Is that why they wouldn’t look at me as I was walking in?”

Lupin shrugged. “I guess they didn’t want to ruin the surprise. What do you think? Did they do a good job?”

“It’s perfect,” Zenigata said, still shellshocked. “Wait, did you say you’ve spoken to Jigen?”

“Yes, but not about escaping. I’ve kept my promise.”

“That’s not what I’m concerned about. I just want to know how.”

Lupin looked guilty, and pulled at something at the top of his left ear. A thin flesh colored piece of metal appeared between his fingers and Lupin held it out to show him. “This is how. It’s an antenna with a builtin speaker and microphone. I connect it to this,” he removed another piece by his ear,  “and I can talk to whoever it’s connected to like a cellphone.”

“Shit, didn’t think of that,” Zenigata said. He wasn’t really surprised. With the amount of contraptions Lupin had on his person at any one time, it was impossible to be alarmed by missing something.

Lupin’s expression of guilt shifted to pride and he grinned. “Clever isn’t it? I came up with it for situations just like this.”

“You came up with it for dates with police inspectors?” Zenigata smiled, watching as Lupin’s expression shifted once more into disdain.

“Quit being facetious. You know what I invented it for. Now drink your wine.”

Zenigata nodded and picked up his glass. “About that. You said Jigen dropped this off? How’d he do that without being caught?”

Lupin took a sip of his own glass, tipping it toward him. “He disguised himself as one of your officers. Said something about finding everything I asked for dropped off at the door with a note attached saying, ‘For Lupin.’”

“And they didn’t notice?”

Lupin bobbed his head. “What can I say? There’s truly no one out there like you, Pops.”

“Koichi.”

“Hm?”

“For tonight, call me Koichi. This is a date, isn’t it?”

Lupin laughed. “Yes it is. Doesn’t that mean you should call me Arsène?”

“Do you want me to?” Zenigata asked.

Lupin hid his face in his glass. “I wouldn’t be against it, though I cannot remember the last time someone called me by my first name. It might have been right before my grandfather died. I can’t be sure.”

“Well, Arsène , if it’s any consolation, I don’t remember the last time someone called me by my first name either.”

Lupin shivered and placed his glass back down on the table. “Okay, that’s gonna take some getting used to. It doesn’t even sound like my name anymore.”

“I can call you Lupin instead if you’d like.”

Lupin shook his head. “Nah, if it’s coming from you, Koichi. It’s fine.”

Zenigata smiled. He leaned forward in his seat and took another sip from his glass. “Alright, but we go back to normal after this. I don’t know how the men would react if they heard you calling me Koichi.”

Lupin nodded. “And I don’t know how Jigen would react if he heard you call me Arsène. He might actually kill me. He gets kind of touchy when it comes to things like that.”

“I don’t think Jigen would be capable of killing you,” Zenigata said. “One, you’re well… you and two, he loves you too much.”

“Oh he’s capable, alright. If Jigen wanted to, he’d be able to take me out in mere seconds. Luckily, as you said, he loves me.”

“A lot of people do,” Zenigata said.

Lupin leaned forward. The look on his face was wide and cocky. “Is one of those people you, Koichi ?”

The way Lupin purred his name gave Zenigata pause more than the actual question did. He found himself spluttering for an answer, his entire face flushed and bright red. “I… well . Yes. I suppose so.”

The song playing over the radio had long since repeated itself, playing softly to aid the thoughts running through Zenigata’s mind. Now it said,

“ Lucky-I can't be lucky in love

All my four leaf clovers

Can't do me no good

Funny, just when I needed to be lucky

Couldn't help but lovin' you

Lovin' you… ”

Lupin repeated the last of the lyrics in a whisper between them, wineglass all but forgotten and Zenigata the main focus of his attention. He reached forward and plucked the inspectors hands up off his lap, rubbing calloused thumbs over the top of both of them.

Zenigata stared at their entwined hands, and couldn’t help the thrum of emotion from rising deep within him. He almost felt like crying. He wasn’t quite sure why.

Lupin noticed this and smiled at him. He leaned farther forward, close enough that Zenigata could smell the wine on his breath. “I haven’t gotten a chance to tell you this yet, but you look wonderful tonight, Koichi. I wasn’t even expecting you to come dressed up.”

“I couldn’t very well show up in my regular clothes now, could I? Just because it’s been a while, doesn’t mean I don’t remember how to prepare for a date.”

“I wouldn’t have minded,” Lupin said. “You’re perfect no matter what you’re dressed in.”

“That’s not true, but thank you anyway, Arsène.”

Lupin looked scandalized. “It is true, but you’re welcome.”

Zenigata felt awkward, but he plowed forward anyway. “You… you look nice tonight too. So nice in fact, I think I short circuited when Yata let me into your cell.”

Lupin giggled and nodded his head. “I noticed that, though I wasn’t sure if it was me or if it was everything we’d managed to sneak in.”

“It was both,” Zenigata said. “Though you were a big part of it.”

“Even in jail, I clean up pretty nice, don’t I?” Lupin looked down at himself and back up at Zenigata. “They even let me shave.”

“I can tell, and yes. You’re probably the most beautiful person I know.”

Lupin looked genuinely touched. “Even compared to Fujicakes?”

Zenigata nodded. “She doesn’t even begin to hold a torch to you. I promise.”

“Hey, Fuji-chan’s a knockout. Don’t underestimate her looks.”

“Don’t underestimate yours either,” Zenigata said. “You’re gorgeous, you know?”

“So I’ve been told,” Lupin smiled. “Hey, Koichi. I have a question.”

Zenigata dipped his head. “Yeah?”

“Can I kiss you?”

Everything stopped, and the blush returned to Zenigata’s face. That song kept up it’s chorus, saying,

“ Couldn't help but lovin' you

Lovin' you… ”

“Yeah…”

Lupin inclined his head, letting go of Zenigata’s hands to press his own against his cheeks. His lips were soft as they met the inspector’s, sweet like wine and cherry chapstick. For several moments they stayed like that, lost in a world of warmth, love, and that happy song playing in the backdrop. Zenigata’s heart raced as the time went on, but he couldn’t bring himself to pull away. The kiss felt so right against him that he wished it would go on forever. The rush of air between them tickeled as their breaths quickened, and their tongues slid together through parted lips. It was like nothing Zenigata had ever experienced. Like lightning in a bottle or the unmistakable feeling he got during a car chase.

When they pulled apart, he wanted to go back in. When Lupin smiled at him, he did. The second kiss was faster, more passionate, but just as sweet. They pushed against each other, fighting for dominance. For a time, it was unclear who would break away first. It seemed to go on endlessly, but at long last, it was Zenigata who broke contact.

They came up from the kiss huffing into each other’s faces, out of breath but grinning like school girls. Lupin snuck his chair closer to Zenigata, and wrapped his arms around his back to bury his face in the inspector’s neck. He sighed heavily, purring almost like a contented cat.

“I’m glad we made that bet,” he said. “I had a really nice time tonight.”

Zenigata hummed and allowed himself to nuzzle his nose against the thief’s shoulder. “I did too. We should do this every time I catch you.”

“Thought I wasn’t getting away?” Lupin chuckled, and Zenigata felt it bubble between their chests.

“You’re not,” Zenigata said. “But in the case you do, I’m going to be extra determined to get you back.”

Lupin’s chuckled turned into genuine laughter, and he pulled away just enough to see Zenigata’s face. They were close enough that their knees pressed together, the fronts of each of their chairs practically touching. “Challenge accepted,” he said. “Though we don’t have to save these dates for every time you catch me.”

“Yeah, but where’s the fun in that?” Zenigata asked.

“Hey, the chase and date themselves might be fun, but I’d actually like to take you out sometime.”

“I wouldn’t be against that. This turned out to be more than I was expecting.”

“Is that a good thing?” Lupin asked.

Zenigata nodded and pressed his lips against Lupin’s forehead. “It’s the best.”

“Good,” Lupin leaned down onto his shoulder again. He grew heavy until, that is, he noticed something. He perked up. “What’s that?”

“What’s what?”

Lupin broke away from him to grab the basket Zenigata had deposited beside his chair. He held it out. “This.”

Zenigata slapped his forehead, having completely forgotten about his basket. He took it from Lupin and placed it on the table, opening it up and dropping its contents around the candles and rose. The moment he pulled out two containers of cup noodles, his electric kettle, and bottles of water, Lupin lost it. He nearly fell out of his chair laughing, and for a moment Zenigata grew defensive.

“What are you laughing at?”

The laughing continued. “Why…why did you bring cup noodles?”

“It was all I had.”

“But we’re on a date .”

Zenigata was confused. “So? They’re good and easy to make. There’s not much we can do in a jail cell so I had to improvise.”

“Yeah, but cup noodles? You could have ordered something from a restaurant and brought it with you.”

“I didn’t think of that,” Zenigata said. “And anyway, why does it matter? Why’s it matter what we eat?”

“It doesn’t,” Lupin said. “It’s just so incredibly you . I’m not sure what else I was expecting.”

“I’m not sure what you were expecting either.”

Lupin continued to laugh. “You realize the wine I asked for isn’t cheap, right? Wine and cup noodles. It’s so… perfect .”

Zenigata began to put his supplies away, offended by Lupin’s reaction. “If you don’t want ‘em, I’ll leave. Maybe this was a mistake after all.”

Lupin threw out his hands to stop him. “ No . No. Don’t go. I'm sorry. I’m not mocking you. It just caught me off guard, that’s all.”

“I can order something too if that’s what you’d prefer. I’m sure Yata would—”

“No. Make the damn noodles, Koichi. I’m sure they’ll be delicious.”

Zenigata slowly started to place his supplies back down on the table. “You’re sure?”

Lupin nodded. “I can’t wait to tell Jigen about this. He’ll get a kick out of it.”

“Alright,” Zenigata said. “I’ll be sure not to bring noodles with me on our next date.”

Lupin shook his head. “But you have to. At this point, I’d be disappointed if you didn’t.”

“You’re enjoying this too much.”

“Perhaps, but it’s only because I love you.”

Zenigata stared at him, all the emotions of the past hour rushing back to flood his brain.

“I love you too,” he said, along with the chorus of that song, and the chuckles of his thief reverberating throughout the jail cell.

[snowgoldwaylon]

And That's When You Came - Naga X Reader

So this is my first Naga x reader fic, I'm a bit nervous about it y'all. I hope you guys enjoy!

TW: Violence, kidnapping, murder, drugs, strong language.

This time around, druglords were swarming parts of the Jungles around the world. This sometimes made working with the CIA and Marines hard trying to tie up loose ends.

So, of course, you took a leadership role, and assembled a small, efficient team to head out to the Jungle, and clean up some of these businesses.

You had gotten word over enemy comms that there was a possibility of trafficking coming up, just a few days short of today. So you know today was the day to make the right move and head out.

You gathered the team up, and took off right there and then. You had to head Northeast until you reached the heart of the Jungle. The plan was to ambush whoever was doing this and make them lead your team right to the main compound.

After 4 hours of constant flying, your heli touched down a few clicks North of the potential location. You took out the evidence from the comm broadcast and looked around.

The druglords were smart around these areas. They communicated in code. Morse code, to be exact. Thankfully you could read and understand morse code like you could in your native language. Looks like some classes pay off!

You took a minute and looked over the past conversation between these unknown individuals. You read the morse code with ease, and quickly you understood what was said.

'TRIBAL VILLAGE, WEST OF THE RED STREAM. FOLLOW IT 5 CLICKS AND MAKE A SHARP LEFT BY THE SKULLS.'

You felt a sick, sinking feeling when it mentioned skulls. Now you knew that you were about to walk a thin line with danger, or possibly even death.

You looked back at your team who geard up. You turned your radio on and spoke to the one man you could trust.

"Lazar, I might not come back from this. If I don't, please send a search team. I'm about to broadcast you my current coordinates." You said calmly.

"Y/N, you will come back. I promise to come to save your ass myself." Lazar said.

"Appreciate that, I'll keep in touch. 2-3 out." And off your radio went.

You rounded your team up and stood upon a rock so they could hear you loud and clear.

"Okay Strike team, we are going in. You will follow me and my orders, we stay together at all times. This could potentially be a large threat, and I will not have any deaths today. Now, follow me. Keep an eye out for any potential harm. Form the formation we talked about. Always check those corners and look back!" You said, strapping your MP5 around you tightly.

You led your team off in the direction that the morse code told you about. You came to the red stream and decided to take a look around and see if you saw any possible movement or another break in the case.

You took your binoculars and scanned the area. In the distance, you saw a small, white building. It was covered by trees, well hidden if you didn't have good vision.

"Hey Houston, take a look over there, almost 3 and a half inches to the left. See the white building?" You said, handing the binoculars to your teammate.

Houston took them and looked, he turned back to you and nodded.

"I see it. Do you think we should go check it out?" He asked.

You thought for a moment. What if this was another building with possible evidence or even someone in there you could question? You looked back towards him and nodded.

"Yeah, I think we should. Let's get in there and at least check it out. It'll be worth it if we do I think." You reasoned.

He quickly gathered the team, and you made a slow but steady movement towards the building in question. There was no doubt you were nervous, you had a really bad feeling and you weren't sure why.

When you came up to the building, it was a garage. It had a large, retracting door and a small door for someone to walk into. But there was no house, just a garage.

"Okay Houston, we're gonna walk into this place very carefully, and slowly." You said.

After getting confirmation from everyone, you walked up to the small door. You carefully took the handle and twisted it. The door creaked open as if this was some sort of horror movie and the killer finds the person hiding.

You took a few steps in and checked all the corners. Your team followed behind and within minutes, the whole place had gotten a clean sweep. There was nobody to be found. So, you quickly gathered everyone in the middle.

"Okay, so this place is clear. What we are going to do next i-" You were cut off by a large bang.

BANG!

You drew your MP5 and took a protective stance. Suddenly, thats when a loud and frantic banging started to happen. What took you off guard was the cries for help that followed.

"PLEASE HELP, I'M DOWN HERE!" The male voice cried out.

You looked all over the room, and noticed a hatch to what looked like a cellar, the doors chained shut with heavy rocks on top.

"Commander, I don't like the feeling of this..." One of your team, Leon shuttered out.

"Cover me, we must save this man!" You said with no hesitation.

You ran over to the doors, and ripped the rock off with brute strength. You smashed the chains off with the butt of your gun, and yanked them off. You could now open the door.

"Houston, Leon, with me!" You commanded.

They stacked up behind you and took stance. You ripped the doors open, and out came a man fell out, wearing some sort of uniform. And behind him was a some of two dozen men, armed. You had been tricked.

"Commander!" Houston yelled, jumping in front of you as a bullet as shot. It ripped through his heart like a dagger. He fell to the ground, going limp.

"You fuckers!" You shouted.

You went to shoot, but a rock came flying and hit you right in the eye. You heard everyone else struggle and a few gunshots. When you came back from the hit, you were grabbed and restrained.

The man you first saw, immediately tied all your team up, but a couple of the guys had you in a hold, rather than tied up. You were so scared, for everyone. The first guy who came out grabbed his walkie and talked into it.

"Naga, this is Blade. I have their Commander. Waiting your order."

"Good, bring their Commander to me. Take the rest to the pit. We have work that needs done." The mysterious voice spoke over the radio.

"Got it."

When your team started to get taken away like cattle, you got pissed. You saw the bodies of a few crew mates and it made you almost get sick. Houston and Leon were dead, all because of you.

When you started to be dragged away, you began to kick and scream.

"Get off me you rat fucking bastards! I'll kill you all!" You shouted.

The men only chucked, and kept walking.

You were able to get an arm free and sucker punch one. The other, you kicked straight in the teeth, which made him double over. You took the opportunity and snapped his neck with ease.

The other man though quickly recovered and tackled you. You both fought for a minute until you somehow got on top, flipping him to his back. You restrained his arms with your leg and grabbed his face.

"I fucking told you, asshole. Now, join your friend." You said with anger. You quickly pulled his head back, killing him. You got off and took a rifle he wore.

You looked around and started to gather your surroundings. Now you were kind of confused. First thing first, you had to find your team. You ran back to the garage and went to the corpses of Houston and Leon.

"I'm so sorry you guys." You said, picking up their dog tags. This was the only way to identify them now.

You left and followed a blood trail to a nearby meadow. There, in the distance, you saw thick trees. You came up to a set of some, and in front of you was a 4-way split.

"Fuck! I'll be fucked if I go the wrong way...." But before you could even think, you felt a presence.

Like, somebody was watching you. You looked up into the trees, and that's when you saw a man wearing a strange cap, sunglasses, and a bandanna. He held a tube in his mouth.

Before you could run, he put air into it and shot out a dart at you of some sort. Luck was not with you today though.

It sucks right into your neck. And it felt like a rock had just dropped on you from a great height. You fell to your knees and collapsed. You tried to crawl, but the world went black around you.

The man jumped down from the trees and came over. He removed the dart and rolled you over to see your face. When he saw it was you, he picked you up and carried you towards his large camp.

"Finally got you."

Meanwhile, back at the safe house

Lazar came up to Adler and Sims.

"Doc, Y/N was supposed to come back 5 hours ago. I was even told if I don't hear anything, to come to find them." Lazar spoke with worry.

Adler almost brushed it off, until he heard your name.

"Wait, as in Y/N Y/L/N? Commander of Strike team?" He questioned.

"Yes, remember they went into the Jungle for the possible compound raid. I think something is wrong." He said.

Adler put out his cigarette and got up. He walked over to a plan made out by you. His eyes went large, and he immediately started to pack up and get ready.

"Lazar, you are right. There is a good chance they are in danger. We leave right now! Get everyone rounded up and locked and loaded." He commanded.

Lazar did as he was told, and got everything in line. The crew left within 5 minutes.

One day later, Y/N POV

You finally woke back up, but you were changed to a wall. Your clothes have scratches, and your head felt like a bobblehead. The room had a bright, uncomfortable light above the head. You looked around and saw so much drug paraphernalia.

You were about to pass out again until the door opened, and the same man from before stepped into the room. You both made eye contact, and you saw a slight smile behind his bandanna.

He came over to you and ran his hand over your face.

"Well, look who is finally awake. I thought you weren't going to ever wake back up, my precious little dandelion." He said in a creepy tone.

You revolted to his touch and tried to kick. But, you were held in place by the tough shackles.

"No no no, little one. You won't be leaving now. Do you know how long I waited for you? And here you fall right into my lap...." He trailed off.

You still kicked and screamed, until he finally walked away over to a projector.

"Oh Y/N, I've been watching you for months now. I knew you had been tracing people like me to raid their compounds. Well, I didn't want you fucking up my business." He said, pulling up the images on the projector.

You looked at them in horror when you realized they were of you, in many different states. You at your own home, on a date with Lazar, out with the safe house team for bowling and drinks, even you in the shower. The fucking shower!

You began to cry. You were very afraid.

The man only laughed upon seeing your tears and started playing audio logs of you calling your family on holidays.

"Don't cry, little one. I've always wanted you in my life." He spoke, slowly walking towards you. You began to panic, and started kicking and muffled screaming again.

When he reached you, he ran his hand up your side, and to your face.

"Don't worry. My name is Naga and I'm here to keep you forever. You are mine now, you know." He said.

He stepped back and turned on an older song. He kept the pictures up as he walked towards you with a knife. Your heart sank.

"Do you see this, honey? This is what you'll get when you misbehave. Understand?" He spat at you.

"I'm going to undo your gag. Don't do anything stupid." Naga said.

As soon as he did, he smiled.

"There. Now, why don't you tell me something with that gorgeous mouth?"

You looked right at him, and spit right into his eye. He jumped back in disgust. That pissed him off, and his gaze turned cold.

"You fucking bitch! You'll pay for that!"

But before he could even lunge, a man came from behind and wrestled him to the ground. That man was none other than Lawrence Sims.

You started to wiggle as you saw Lazar and everyone else behind him. He quickly ran over to you and got you free. Adler jumped in with Sims and restrained Naga. He put up one hell of a fight though.

You were carried away to the EVAC chopper, where Mason sat.

"Y/N!" Mason shouted, helping you get onboard.

You sat up and coughed. Your body hurt so much, you felt drained.

"Please Mason, clean up this cut on my leg. It's getting infected." You pleaded.

Immediately, he started to tend to every wound you had. It stung like hell but you were relieved it was over. Lazar sat with you and held your hand. You felt like you were in shellshock.

After about 10 minutes, everyone came back to the heli. Lazar didn't look happy.

"What the hell? Where is he??" He questioned.

Adler pulled out a cigarette and lit it. Sims just signed.

"He got away. The bastard is like a snake. Plus not to mention, he turned my balls into innies." Adler said with defeat.

You sat up and hugged the blanket tighter around you. You looked around at everyone as the heli flew off.

"Wait, what about my team? They still might be down there...."

Adler nodded at you.

"We sent in spec ops to recover survivors. But we are glad to see you back here safe."

You nodded with relief and lay back against the heli. You looked out over the dark skies and the now ominous trees below. You knew, deep down inside down there, this wasn't over.

Naga still roamed these trees. You looked down over the treetops and clenched your fist tight.

"I promise, this isn't over. I'll be back, even stronger."

[rodeoxqueen]

SMELLS LIKE QUARAN-NEROKIRI SPIRIT 

Nero/Kyrie

“In quarantine, Nero and Kyrie spend time together.” 

Rodeo’s Two Pieces: 

First time writing for Nero/Kyrie. Tread lightly with my take of their dynamic. 

(I)- Dalgona Coffee and Cookies. 

Despite how everything was shut down and the grocery was found vacant of basic necessities, Nero was grateful to at least be with someone he loved the most. 

“Look, we probably need some time off from kickin’ demon ass anyways,” Nico explained, smoking a cigarette during the video chat. 

“Yeah, not like demons care about being six feet away. People don’t even do that.” Nero looked at himself in the little square in the corner of his phone. Clad in a grey hoodie, he hadn’t even bothered putting on anything over his boxers. No one had come to visit since the mandate to stay inside, what was the point? 

Nico was in her garage again, from what he could see in the camera view. Cigarettes and old cups of coffee littered her desk, warbled country music playing off-view. 

“Who knows, maybe I’ll make something to fix that. I was thinking a mask-gun, rapid-fire reloading.” 

“Artisan of Arms, huh?” Nero laughed, getting up from his bed. 

“You fuckin’ bet. Now I gotta go. Got some things to weld.” 

“See ya, Nico. Stay safe, alright?” 

“Yeah, yeah.” He gave a peace sign before pressing “end video call.” 

The video chat ended and Nero tucked his phone into his pocket. Even banter just wasn’t the same virtually. 

“Who was that? Nico?” Nero made it down the hallway to see Kyrie, bustling about getting things from the cupboards. 

“Yeah, still building stuff as usual.” 

Kyrie had been in their apartment’s kitchen, deciding to try her hand at some recipes she saw online. A bag of flour, too many bowls, and more chocolate than Nero remembered buying, all laid out on the table. 

Just when he wanted something to eat, he’d have to wait or his girlfriend would practically make enough to feed an army and be surprised when he didn’t want anymore. 

He opted for a cup of water instead. 

Nero admired her hair, how it looked when it wasn’t in a ponytail, how it sat perfectly on her shoulders. Seeing how she started to measure some ingredients, he took the hair tie on his wrist, careful fingers bringing it into a low ponytail. 

“Oh, thank you.” She commented, opening her booklet of recipes she had handwritten. Neat, slanted cursive in a smattering of blue, red, and black read out recipes for cookies, cakes, and bread. 

“You look busy, planning to make all of those?” Nero rested his chin on her shoulder, shrouding her with warmth. 

“Well, I don’t know how long we’re going to be stuck at home, might as well try some recipes out. Maybe we can deliver some to the orphanage.” 

“That is if I don’t eat all your prototypes first.” She laughed, birdsong to Nero’s ears. 

“As long as you help me I don’t mind if you do.” Kyrie handed him a measuring cup. Nero sighed, taking it. He always lost count of how many cups of flour he was supposed to put in the bowl. 

A jar of porous dough caught his eye as he sifted some baking soda in his white mixture. He took it from Kyrie’s side of the island. 

“Whoa, what is this? A science experiment?” Kyrie chuckled, watching Nero scrutinize the date on the white tape to the top of the mason jar. 

“No, it’s a sourdough starter! It’s basically wild yeast. We can make bread with it since people bought out all the dry yeast in the grocery store.” 

Nero shook it with curiosity and then opened the silver lid, making an “eh” face at the smell. 

“It’s yeast alright.” 

Kyrie continued whipping up the sugar and butter mixture, Nero helping himself to a handful of chocolate chips. 

“Have you talked to your uncle and father? They must be staying at the shop in Redgrave.” 

Nero shrugged. 

“Most likely, I haven’t talked to them yet. Dante probably didn’t pay the phone bill and Vergil doesn’t know how to use the phone anyways.” 

“Let’s just hope they’re getting along during this time.” 

Nero thought back to all the “family outings” he had since his uncle and father returned from hell, mostly just jobs becoming contests of strength that turned to friendly family fights. Endless banter and elbowing. 

Honestly, compared to that, standing next to his girlfriend while they shaped cookies for the oven was heaven. 

Once the chocolate chip cookie dough was done baking, Kyrie insisted they make some whipped coffee while they cooled.  

“I thought you didn’t like coffee, Kyrie.” She stooped down to find something in the lower cabinets. A robotic hand that was colored dark blue and black, his old Devil Bringer, appeared with a tiny whisk duct-taped to it. 

“Yeah, but that TikTok made it look so good.” Nero handed her the glass container of instant coffee. 

Turning on the Devil Bringer, the tiny whisk spun to life, rapidly mixing sugar, coffee, and water together. With her back turned, Nero popped a thing of cookie dough in his mouth. 

“Honestly, Nico should have patented these Devil Bringers, make a bunch of money, and maybe she’d stop trying to rip me off all those times.” 

“Support local businesses, Nero.” 

He looked over her shoulder, surprised at how an abysmal brown mixture had become fluffy and thrice its previous volume. 

Two cups of milk poured, the practically instantly whipped coffee laid on top like a decadent Mount Everest next to a still-warm plate of cookies. 

“Cheers!” Kyrie clinked glasses with him, stirring her mug vigorously with a spoon. He copied her, taking a sip of surprisingly light and sweet coffee. 

When he lowered his cup, Nero both revealed to the world a mustache of whipped coffee. 

Kyrie snorted into her cup, covering her mouth as she bit back a laugh. Embarrassed, Nero went to wipe it off when Kyrie pecked him on the lips. She drew back to reveal an imprint of the ‘stache on her own upper lip. 

“We match now.” Kyrie giggled, helping herself to another gooey cookie. 

Half a plate of cookies and two mugs properly drained of its contents, Kyrie and Nero loaded up the dishwasher to do the work. 

“This is coffee, why am I tired?” Kyrie yawned. 

The couch was this god-awful IKEA purchase that took hours for Nero to just figure out what the instructions meant. But right now, it perfectly supported both of them while they slept away their food coma. 

(II)- Curl Up And Dye. 

After the second time the mandate got lengthened, Nero could sense that Kyrie was starting to wane in her ever-positive attitude. The news had nothing good to say, and the number of shows they had binged left them indifferent to watching anything more. 

They did a lot of singing during quarantine, Kyrie always being the musical one. Evanescence was one of their favorites to sing together, Nero’s guitar skills and Kyrie’s ability to hit those high notes left many memorable nights of laughter. 

After a while, Kyrie began to just sit on the couch a lot and have Nero pay her company. 

“What’s wrong?” Kyrie sighed heavily, curling into Nero’s hoodie as he opted to stay shirtless. 

“I don’t know Nero, it just feels like everything is the same. We go through the same things every day and I just feel...trapped.” 

Nero kissed the nape of her neck, humming in agreement. 

“Look, I’m usually the one going to you for stuff like this but...it will get better. It’s been a really hard time for all of us, and we’re just watching everything go downhill. It’s not a good situation but, you got me. Always. And there’s still a lot of things we can change up if that helps.” He stroked her hair and rubbed her back, feeling her take a deep breath. 

“You’re right Nero. That really did help. Thank you for listening.” 

“Of course.” 

While he scrolled on his own phone, he didn’t heed all the things Kyrie was watching. She touched her own long hair, seeing the way other people recorded their own home-salon trims. 

“Things to change, huh?” She mumbled. 

So here they were now. 

“It looks so bad!” Kyrie exclaimed, her face in her hands, hair on the bathroom sink. Nero shook his head. 

“No it’s not, Kyrie! You look fine, just let me fix it!” In the mirror, Nero cringed at the way her hair was ridiculously over-layered. 

“Um, what did you try to do-” 

“Curtain bangs! Oh Nero, I shouldn’t have tried to change up my hair!” Kyrie was thoroughly upset, seeing how her bout of bravery lead to her bangs being mauled by her own hands. 

Nero hugged her, noting that she had been wearing his shirt while she trimmed her hair. 

Okay that shirt’s gonna itch for a while until all the hair comes out. 

“It’s okay, let me see if I can fix it.” Kyrie blushed in the mirror, groaning at how bad her hair was cut. 

“There’s no way you could make it worse than what I did.” 

Nero gingerly took the scissors Kyrie put in the sink, a little bit too small for his hands but good enough. Although he was no stylist, he could tell where Kyrie had either cut too much off or unevenly. 

Eventually, they did manage to cut it in a way that hid the previous mistakes. Kyrie took another deep breath. 

“I shouldn’t have been so impulsive.” She murmured, arms crossed. 

Nero chuckled at her rare emotional outburst. He was glad to have been able to be there for her. She always hid how she felt, helping others her way of expressing herself. Now with no one around but him, he totally understood that she felt helpless. 

No one liked being helpless. 

He kissed her cheek and a lightbulb went off in his head. 

“You wanna dye my hair?” Kyrie turned around in surprise. 

“What?” 

“I mean, who knows how long this shutdown is gonna be, it’ll be fun,” Kyrie noted how Nero had forgone shaving, his peach fuzz becoming something more. 

Honest blue eyes peered at her, wondering what she would think. Her surprise softened to a sort of relief in their solidarity. 

“What color, Nero?” 

“Neon green-” 

“Nico’s going to make fun of you.” Kyrie giggled. Nero shrugged nonchalantly. 

“I don’t mind it.” 

(III)- Can’t Get Out Of It, Get Into It. 

“Nero, you look so fucking ridiculous.” 

“Shut up, Dante.” 

His uncle finally managed to figure out how to work the virtual chat on his fossil of a computer, and Nero was already prepared to end the call. 

His father sat slightly off-camera, not in the mood to entertain Dante’s antics to ridicule his son. Although, he did look oddly radioactive with his washed-out green hair and strong quarter-past five o’clock shadow.  

“Quarantine did not do you a favor, good lord,” Dante commented, kicking his feet up on his desk. Nero flipped him off. 

“Good to know you’re still living in shambles, not surprised neither of you cleaned up after yourselves.” The number of bottles on the floor was a travesty and the couch littered with poetry books Vergil had slowly begun to hoard. 

Nico entered the zoom call, smoking another cigarette Nero was lucky to not have to smell. 

“Nice broccoli head.” 

Nero flipped her off as well. Kyrie came into view, smiling at her boyfriend’s family and their shared friends. Nero decided to get a drink, clicking a few buttons before letting Kyrie have the seat. 

As they discussed how the business would continue with Devil May Cry, Kyrie sat next to Nero. 

It was mainly business, until it got to a certain line that Dante said. 

“I don’t know, it just feels like things are just going to keep staying like this. Hate to break it to you Nero, but it’s going to be tough for a while.” 

Kyrie finally heard enough, scooching Nero aside so she could talk. 

“Kyrie, wait-” 

“We’re going to get past this. As long as humanity still keeps coming together for the sake of benefiting each other, and we keep working to make sure to keep safe, we will get past this. We just have to keep hoping, and sure, hoping isn’t always going to make you feel better. I would know. But in a time where we do feel helpless, we should connect with other people in a different way. That’s why we succeed, we keep moving, we keep adapting! And hope, hope keeps that going.” 

Kyrie took a long breath. Looking at the dumbfounded group, she waited for a response. 

“Um, Kyrie. You were muted.” Nero finally said. Kyrie realized her blunder and how Nero’s hand was attempting to unmute them. 

“Oh.” Kyrie flushed, looking embarrassed. 

“I have no idea what you just said, but that’s okay.” 

“I’m sorry, that was so awkward.” 

“Don’t worry yourself, Kyrie. I bet it was real sweet whatever you had to say,” Nico assured. 

The zoom call was full of laughter since, a business call turned to a time to discuss how each person was doing. 

Dante and Vergil had spent days and nights sparring, Vergil learning more about humanity from Dante, and “making their own pizzas.” 

Nico had continued welding and making weapons for her own curiosity rather than based off of commission-based instructions. The van finally had the vinyl player fixed and she apparently gave herself a stick-and-poke. 

“So what did you two love birds do?” Nico asked, lighting another cancer stick. 

Nero and Kyrie looked at each other, smiling at their shared memories of this strange period in human history. 

“Where do we even start?”  Kyrie said, thinking of all the days and nights that seemed to breeze by and also slowly progress. 

Nero ruffled his longer messy green hair, Kyrie tucking her curtain bangs behind her ear. As they were two peas in the pod, Nero had decided to get another set of gray sweats for Kyrie, matching finally. 

Kyrie bit into a cookie, offering Nero some. 

“Smells like quarantine spirit, huh?” Dante finger-gunned.

Nero chuckled. 

“Hell yeah.” 

[kuradoberijam]

Jinjin for the opinion ask game (if someone else already sent him, then Tsubaki maybe?)

You are surprisingly the first person to send me Jin!!

❄️ Overall Opinion of him:

Literally such a fucking loser (affectionate) I have been attached to this Blorbo for the last 6 years even though he sucks so bad. He is so pathetic (also affectionate).

❄️ Gender & Sexuality Headcanons:

I think he’s bi given the right circumstances and also trans but I’ve also been kinda flirting with the HC of him being in that sort of grey aro area + some sexual aversion (not quite ace) just because I couldn’t really see him dating anyone and that working out for more than a month. Jin at his core is shitty at holding himself accountable which is important for communication in relationships.

❄️ Favorite moment in canon:

Oh 100% when Ragna lectures him in continuum shift to pull his head out of his ass. That in general is actually one of my favorite scenes with them together because it was the last real time we got any potential for their character dynamic. It really showed that despite everything Ragna still cares about Jin because Jin is his little brother but also showcases that their relationship can’t change until Jin pulls himself together enough for them to have a proper final fight. I could talk on and on about that scene but I would be rambling too much. 

❄️ Favorite moment in a fan work:

I’m going to flex on myself a little bit here because I’m one of the few writers on ao3 that doesn’t write ragjin incest shit but I still really like Bury the Hatchet. It kind of aged a little bit poorly considering I’ve gotten better at writing but I still feel like it holds its own with Jin characterization.

❄️ Favorite Line:

I think most of his lines suck so bad but his introspection at the end of his calamity trigger route still gets me. I drew it once but I was 17 then and didn’t know as much about art as I do now so I’ll have to go back and re-draw it. 

❄️ Characters I like seeing them interact with:

Ragna for sure. We could have had so much when it came to their dynamic. I desperately wanted to see them have a satisfying character arc where maybe they don’t necessarily ever become close again but they can tolerate each other at family gatherings and have occasional fun being belligerent towards each other. We should have been allowed to have a dynamic where Ragna smokes a cigarette because it’s just one of those days and Jin takes it and puts it out on Ragna’s hand. Their dynamic would be so much better if it moved to being built around Jin pestering Ragna in non violent ways and Ragna getting got by his shit every time. Either that or go straight for the tragedy but don’t leave us in the middle with no closure.

❄️ Last thing before sleeping headcanons:

Jin wears an ungodly amount of makeup every day. Because of this, that means that he has to spend a total of 30 or more minutes washing foundation off of his face and wiping off eyeliner with make up wipes. Sometimes his eyes get red from the sheer amount of times he has to wipe stuff off of his eyelids. Ragna once said he looked like a melted Madame Tussaud wax figure and the rest of his night was spent evading Jin running around the house with a knife. He’s also very obsessed with skin care and once had to begrudgingly lecture Kagura about what a pore strip was because Kagura found it in the trash once and didn’t know what it was.

❄️ Sleeping habits headcanons:

Jin sits sleeping upright with a weighted blanket because if he didn’t he’d be sleepwalking the way he did when he was a kid. He still remembers the days when he would end up knee deep in the creek by the church with Ragna worriedly shaking his shoulders yelling at him to wake up. Jin did however, forget his routine once and ended up just outside of Torifune’s borders with military personnel prying open his eyelids. Jin also sleep talks and his eyes flicker when he’s in deep sleep which has worried more people than he cares to admit.

❄️ First thing after waking up headcanons:

Jin primarily wakes up to his own nightmares. As a result, he’s grown intimately familiar with the early hours of the morning. He usually starts his day by making some tea and then putting on an insufferable amount of makeup because he can’t stand looking at his bare face in the mirror. 

❄️ Favorite locations headcanons:

Jin likes anywhere quiet. It’s why he used to like the library when he was at the military academy. People always thought that was why he was a good student but he mainly just went there to feel at peace. He hates loud noises and crowds more than he can express (autism gang rise up).