#i never forget it usually but i've had a lot on my mind today so i was a bit distracted

[karinhart]

initially forgot to add alt text to that audy drawing bc it's the middle of the night but i updated it a few minutes after posting (at which point a couple of people had already reblogged it) so if you've reblogged a version with no alt text i would really appreciate it if you'd reblog the fixed version instead! although this is probably a lost cause because the old version is the one that's getting passed around 😭

[astrxealis]

i really want to write a song one day

[soaps-mohawk]

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

What Could Have Been

Summary: You've reached the age you can be chosen. Little do you know your future has been planned out from the start.

Pairing: Philip Graves x reader

Word Count: 7, 358 words

Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, a/b/o, Omegaverse, Alternate Universe, AU of an AU, suggestive content, mentioned predatory behaviors towards a minor, Philip Graves is a major creep, reader has a set age for plot (she is an adult), dubcon (pushing noncon at the end) but it's muddy water because a/b/o, kissing, touching, lingerie, panic, coercion, virginity and purity culture, fade to black because I couldn't write smut for this

A/N: I am...very sorry for this. Honestly I've been debating posting it but I wrote 7k words and I don't want that to go to waste. This is very...dark. A lot is implied but there's still some fairly disturbing content because of those things. The reader is 18 in this because of plot, but it still feels very...icky. Definitely recommend reading Chapter 34 before reading this to understand the context. Not necessary to read. Just an AU what if kind of bit for the story.

Also if you're finding this and you've never seen my stuff before, Hi! I highly recommend reading Cherry Red, Crimson Blood first before this for context otherwise some things might not make sense. I suppose it could be read as a stand alone but still, context is nice to have

What Ifs Masterlist | Directory

“You’ve been chosen.” 

You had barely managed to get a bite in of breakfast when one of the staff members had pulled you away and led you to the director’s office. None of the omegas at FIOT particularly like him. He’s a small man, middle aged and balding. His scent is...not pleasant. Nutty with undertones of wet animals and whatever he ate for his meals that day. Every omega in the institute dreads being called to his office, being closed in with the offensive smell he permeates. 

You would have been experiencing that same disgust had it not been for your shock at his words. “What?” You breathe, eyes wide. 

“You’ve been chosen.” He repeats, folding his hands on his desk over a thin file. 

“So soon?” You ask, forgetting all decorum and manners you’ve had drilled into your head for two years. 

It’s your eighteenth birthday today. You just became old enough to be chosen a matter of hours ago. 

“This pack is very eager to claim you as their omega.” He says. “One of their betas will be by tomorrow to interview you.” 

Your heart flutters in your chest. While it’s shocking you were chosen so soon, this is what you had hoped for. Two years of training and drilling perfection into your head did pay off. You’ve hardly been on the available list more than a few hours and already there’s a pack interested in you. Something about it has a chill running down your spine, tickling at the base of your neck. You brush it off as shock at this all happening so soon. 

“You may return to breakfast.” The director says, going back to his paperwork. 

“Thank you, sir.” You say, exiting his office. 

It doesn’t feel like your feet touch the floor as you walk back to the mess hall, your body floating as you make your way through the halls. If tomorrow goes well, this will be the last day you spend in this building, this prison you’ve been confined to. They’ll be here as early as they can be tomorrow, if they’re this eager to choose you. 

The thought has something prickling in the back of your mind still. 

Who are they? Who is this eager to choose you? The must have known about you before you even showed up in the registry as being available. You’ve heard rumors that institutes will supply information about omegas to packs for the right price under the table. Information on omegas that aren’t old enough to be chosen. 

You wouldn’t be surprised if FIOT was one of those institutes. The packs that get their omegas here are packs that can pay a hefty price. There’s usually a waiting period while background checks are done and information has to be verified and packs have to interview with the director before omegas themselves can even be interviewed by the pack. You’ve seen it take weeks before. 

Whoever the alpha of this pack is...they knew about you before you became available. 

“What did the director want?” One of the omegas in your age group asks as you take your seat at the table again. Amanda. She cried for five days when she was brought in. 

The others at the table lean in close, like you’re about to reveal some big secret. 

“I’ve been chosen.” You tell them. The words almost seem like a foreign language on your tongue. 

They all cheer happily, getting looks from the wardens around the mess hall. 

“That’s amazing!” Chelsea says, wrapping her arms around you to squeeze you in a tight hug. 

“So soon?” Amanda asks as the congratulations die down. 

“Yeah.” You say. “They’re interviewing me tomorrow.” 

They all share looks, and you know they’re thinking the same thing you are. 

The rumors are true.

“Impressive, isn’t she?” The warden for your dorm group says, as if you’re not sitting there too. She’s responsible for overseeing the small group of eight omegas you’re a part of. She’s the most knowledgeable about the omegas under her watchful eyes, and it’s standard practice for the wardens to sit in on the interviews between the pack beta and the omega being chosen. 

“Quite.” The beta says, looking over your thick file. Bryan, he’d introduced himself as. He’d shaken your hand, something you hadn’t been expecting. He acknowledged you as existing right away, something that doesn’t happen often in the stories you’ve heard about interviews, stories from omegas that had made it this far in the process, but were rejected in the end. “Excellent scores, quite extensive essays.” He says, flipping through the file. He’s not really looking at it. You can see his eyes just scanning the pages. He already knows. He came into the building with his answer. 

Whoever his alpha is has already seen your file. 

He closes the file, pushing it forward on the table. He’s looking at you. You can feel his eyes on you. Yours are lowered respectfully, no matter how badly you want to stare back at him. 

“To be honest, my alpha already made his decision before I got here.” Bryan says, leaning his arms on the table. “Your profile was enough to convince him.” 

“So, you’d like to move forward with the process?” Warden Jameson asks. 

“Yes.” He says, nodding. “She’s going to be a perfect fit.” 

You glance up at him, a warm smile on his face as he stares at you. It’s really happening. You really have been chosen. 

The next hour is a flurry of paperwork and signatures. None from you, of course, but from the beta of your new pack. The paperwork would be sent to your new alpha to sign off on and to finalize the decision once you meet him. No one has ever been sent back after that point, yet you can’t help the nervous flutter in your stomach. What if they don’t like you after all? What if they made a hasty decision and regret it as soon as they meet you? What if you mess everything up?

You follow Bryan and the director towards the entrance to the building, something you haven’t seen since your tour after your arrival. It’s off limits to omegas, several locked doors standing between them and freedom. 

Or more like to keep others out. 

There’s someone at the front desk as you pass by, and you turn to look out of curiosity. It’s a middle aged woman with blonde hair, dressed in a business suit. “Kate Laswell, here for an appointment with Director Jones.” 

You don’t get to hear anything else, ushered out into the world by the director. You’ve heard how giddy he gets about omegas leaving from staff, though you supposed that’s because it’s extra money in his pockets. The more omegas he can match and get out of FIOT, the more the government pays him. 

“I’m looking forward to hearing how she’s settling in.” The director says to Bryan as he hands off your small bag of meager belongings. 

“Of course.” Bryan says, setting it in the front seat of the car waiting out front. “My alpha will be in touch.” 

“Good.” He shakes Bryan’s hand before turning to you. “Good luck. I expect the best from you.” 

“Thank you, sir.” You say, dropping your gaze out of respect. 

Bryan opens the car door for you and you slide in, smoothing out your skirt. You’re still in your uniform, and you won’t be able to change until you get to where you’re going. If they let you change. It’s important they remember where you came from, where you were taught the things you’re supposed to know, where you were trained to be the perfect omega. As if they could forget where they paid for you. 

Bryan drives away from the institute, taking you away from the place that’s been your home for the last two years. It’s the first time you’ve been outside those walls since you were forced in, ripped away from your home the day after your presentation. You’ve thought about your family many times over the last two years. Where are they now? How are they doing? What have your siblings been up to? Have any of them presented as omegas too? 

Maybe your new alpha will let you contact them again. 

It’s wishful thinking. Most don’t. Not the kinds of alphas that buy from FIOT. 

“Nervous?” Bryan asks, glancing at you through the rearview mirror. 

“Yes, sir.” You say, smoothing your hands over your skirt. You’re projecting your scent without even realizing it. “Sorry, sir.” 

He smiles. “I don’t blame you. I’d be nervous too. Don’t worry, though. You’re going to a good place.” 

Despite his well meaning words, you can’t help but feel a bit of trepidation. Is it a good place? Or is it only a good place by beta’s standards? He can’t possibly know, he can’t possibly understand, unless there’s other omegas. 

You’re almost excited by the thought of being around other omegas in a pack. Having that chance to have friends and bond with others like you who know. Those who understand. 

You can’t help but stare as Bryan pulls into the parking garage of a very nice hotel. The cars in the parking garage are some of the most expensive you’ve ever seen. You’re not surprised, given the types of alphas that choose omegas from FIOT. Rich, important alphas looking for trophies to wave around. 

Look at me, look at my perfect omega. 

Bryan opens your door for you, helping you out of the car. He’s holding your bag in his hand, using the other to guide you towards the elevator. His hand is warm, even though your back is beginning to sweat a bit. You’re really nervous now, but you try to keep your scent under control. 

Your new life is about to begin, the life of a claimed omega. 

Unless they don’t like you. 

You have to do everything in your power to make sure they do.

The elevator ride seems to take a lifetime as you go up to a high floor overlooking the city. You’ve never stayed in a hotel this nice before. You’ve never even been in a building with this many floors before. 

Bryan leads you down the hall to a door, using the keycard to open it. He gives you a reassuring smile before pushing it open and guiding you through. It’s a suite, possibly the nicest hotel room you’ve ever seen. Bryan leads you to the small living area, the man you assume is your alpha seated on one of the couches. He’s sitting there casually, ankle crossed over his knee, his arm thrown over the back of the couch. There’s a grin on his face, your eyes widening as you stare at him. 

“Phil?” 

It comes out before you can stop it, all training and decorum leaving as you stare at him in shock. His smile widens, showing off perfect white teeth and dimples. He’s a bit older now than he had been back then, but it is him. 

“Hi darlin’.” He says, pushing himself up to stand. “Been a while.” 

Ten years or so. He was your dad’s best friend while he was stationed in Texas. He was at your house constantly, sitting around watching sports and standing in the backyard while your father barbequed. He was always friendly to you, always sitting just a little too close, always hovering. You hadn’t thought anything about it back then. You were too young to understand. 

Now you do. 

You drop your gaze as he approaches, trying to recover from your shock. You still have an impression to make, a role to fill. Calloused fingers cup your chin, lifting your face back up. You stare up into Phil’s bright blue eyes, just as friendly as you remember them being. 

“None of that.” He says softly. “We’re familiar with each other, aren’t we?” 

“Yes, sir.” You say, swallowing thickly. 

A small smile tugs at his lips before he releases you. “Come on, make yourself comfortable.” He motions to the couches. “We've got a few things to discuss.”

Nerves twist in your stomach as you move to the couches, tucking your skirt under you before you sit. The couch is comfortable, your body sinking into the cushion. It's far more comfortable than the chairs and benches at the institute. He takes a seat right next to you, draping an arm across the back of the couch behind you. 

His fingers curl under your chin again, turning your head so you're looking at him. Those bright blue eyes scan your face, taking in every detail.

“Those pictures didn't do you any justice.” He says. Your file is sitting on the table in front of you. “You've always been a pretty little thing.” His thumb traces your jaw, your stomach churning. “Look like your mom more than your dad. That's certainly not a bad thing.” He smirks. 

He holds you there for a moment staring into your eyes. Something tickles in the back of your mind as he stares at you, something instinctual like a warning. He releases you, dropping his hand back onto his lap. 

“It's good to see you again.” He says, the fingers of the hand behind you playing with the strands of your hair. “A lot has changed, hasn't it? I got old, you became an omega. I always knew you would. Your temperament wasn't right for an alpha. Always so calm and eager to please. You weren't rowdy like your brothers. Always such a sweet little thing.” His fingers trail over the back of one of your hands where it's draped in your lap. Your stomach clenches at his touch, something churning inside you, something you haven't felt since the last time you were around him. “You didn't deserve the way he treated you. It wasn't your fault for becoming what you are.”

He's talking about your father. 

“How did you-”

“I was the one he called.” Phil says simply. “Raging and carrying on about his useless child presenting as an omega.” He shakes his head. “So I pulled some strings, promised some favors, and got you into FIOT immediately, with the stipulation that you would be mine as soon as you were old enough.” He grins. “Now here we are!”

You swallow thickly, staring at him. “It was you?”

He nods. “Had to make sure you'd be taken care of until I could come yet you myself. Now you’re here.” His arm wraps tighter around you, the hand that had been brushing yours dropping to wrap around your thigh. You stare up at him as he leans down slightly closer to you. He smells just like you remember. Woody with the rich scent of chocolate underneath. “I will take care of you.” He says, looking pointedly into your eyes. “You'll want for nothing and you'll be happy.”

Will you? 

You break away first, your eyes dropping to stare at the hand that’s gripping your thigh, fingers indenting the skin through your tights. It feels like a threat, a silent reminder of the power dynamic between you, something he won’t say out loud. He’s an alpha, you’re only an omega. He has control over you, he can dictate your entire life now that you’ve been chosen by him. You belong to him, just as he’s wanted. 

He’s been waiting longer than two years. 

“You hungry?” He asks, his entire demeanor suddenly shifting. 

You are hungry. You had left the institute just before lunch, and you had barely been able to eat breakfast because of the nerves. You nod, deciding telling the truth is better than to try to lie to him early on. “Yes, sir.” 

He gives you a grin. “You don’t have to be so formal. You can call me Phil, just like old times.” He finally releases you, leaning forward to grab a tri-fold menu off the table. “Pick whatever you like.” He says, putting it in your hands. “I’ll be right back.” 

He gets up from the couch and you watch him go before turning back to the menu. The prices make your stomach churn. Your family wasn’t necessarily poor, but with so many of you, you certainly weren’t taking very many vacations very often. Your family moved around so much there wasn’t much of a need to take vacations either. 

You’re not even sure what to do, looking at the menu. What was acceptable? What if you ordered something too expensive. With a hotel room like this, you’re not sure you could order something too expensive. You’re not even quite sure what Phil does anymore. You remember overhearing a conversation he had with your dad about joining MARSOC before he disappeared from your lives. Is he still involved with the military? Did he leave and enter a new career field, one that allows him to stay in places like this? 

You might never know. It’s not your job to know things like that. 

You just need to know how to serve your alpha and take care of him, follow his orders and give him pups when he desires them. Be a good omega and do whatever it is he wants. Your wants don’t matter, only your alpha’s. 

“Decide what you want?” Phil asks, appearing in front of you again. 

You jump in surprise, having been so caught up in your thoughts, you hadn’t noticed him approaching. You’ll have to break that habit and fast. “Yes.” You say, even though you hadn’t even read through the menu in its entirety. 

You try to stop your hands from shaking, picking out the first thing your eyes land on. You’re not even quite sure what it is or if you’ll like it. You needed an answer and you gave it to him. Just exactly what he wanted. 

That is your job, after all. 

Give him exactly what he wants. 

The bed looks plush and comfortable, larger than you’ve slept on in a long time. The beds at FIOT weren’t too terribly uncomfortable, but you’ve gotten so used to sharing a room it seems strange to be sleeping on your own. 

That’s not the only reason it feels strange. 

“Are you not going to-” 

Phil cuts you off before you can finish, not even needing to know what you were going to ask. “No. Not here.” He says, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “That’s for when we’re at home. Besides,” He smooths a hand over your hair. “You’ve had a long day.” 

He stares down at you for a moment, and you almost think he’s changing his mind, deciding he can’t wait until you’re back in Texas. Instead he takes a step back, turning to the dresser your bag had been set on. There’s other shopping bags next to it, things you hadn't even noticed when you walked in. 

You had been too focused on the bed. 

“Bryan picked up some clothes.” He turns back to look at you, his hand trailing down your back. “As cute as the uniform is, I’d rather you be comfortable.” 

You can see it in his eyes. He’s picturing you in it, and not standing before him. It makes your skin crawl. 

“Get some sleep.” He says, moving his hand from your lower back. “We’ve got an early flight tomorrow. You need anything, I’m across the hall and Bryan’s next door.” 

You nod, swallowing the lump in your throat. “Thank you, Phil.” 

He grins down at you, dimples indenting in his cheeks. “Of course, darlin’.” 

You stare at the door for a minute after he closes it, holding your breath. You half expect him to come back in, change his mind and decide he’d rather do it here. He could barge in, force you down on the bed and you wouldn’t be able to do anything. You’re not supposed to do anything. 

Good omegas do as they’re told. Good omegas don’t fight back. 

You wish the door had a lock on it. 

You jolt awake as you’re jostled in your seat. You let out a quiet sound, not quite sure where you even are, much less what’s going on. 

“Just a bit of turbulence.” A voice says, pushing your head to rest against a shoulder again. 

Right. You’re on a plane heading towards Dallas. You didn’t realize you fell asleep, your head resting on Phil’s shoulder. He smells like scent blockers, all three of you do. The plane is a cocktail of scents, the chemical burn of scent blocker mixed with the ugly mesh of too many scents in one confined space. Not everyone has the decency to use scent blockers while traveling. You’ve always hated planes for that reason. 

You stretch your legs out as much as you can, your knee bumping the tray lightly. It had been lowered, you assume, at some point while you were asleep. Your book is sitting on it, the book you had been reading before you fell asleep. It’s the only one you own, a worn out copy you stole from FIOT’s library during your first week and never returned. The cover is faded and nearly falling off, the pages yellowed and stiff from how many times it’s been read over the last two years. 

You’d had a brief discussion about it before you descended into silence, Phil promising you all the books your heart desires once you get to his home. Your home. 

It’s your home now too. You’re no longer attached to your family, no longer attached to the institute. Phil is your world now, and you exist solely in his sphere. You’re dependent on him, and once the claim is made and the paperwork is filed, you will be his forever. 

There won’t be any going back. 

Phil will never change his mind. 

The plane jostles again and you grip the arm resting on your leg out of instinct. 

“Easy.” Phil shushes you, his lips brushing your forehead. His hand closes around yours, squeezing it gently. “Haven’t flown much, have you?” 

“Twice.” You say, your fully awake brain realizing you’re still leaning against his shoulder, but you’re not sure you should move. He obviously likes it if he let it happen. Will he get mad if you try to move? Would he reprimand you on the plane, even if you are quite spaced out in first class? 

He hums, resting his cheek on your head. “We’ll go on lots of flights together. I’ll take you all over the world.” 

Would he take you to see your family again? 

They were friends once. He has to at least know where they are and what they’re doing. Would he do that for you? Or is he going to keep you isolated as expected to prevent those bonds from forming again. Your only bonds should be with him and his pack. Not your old pack that you left behind for a reason. 

You don’t know anything about his pack. 

You know he has a beta, Bryan, his most trusted beta, from the looks of it. How many others are there? How many other alphas and betas? Is he head alpha, or is there someone else? You can’t imagine Phil not being in charge. He always seemed to take command of a room, even with other alphas. Even with your dad. 

Are there other omegas in his pack? Or will you be alone, surrounded by alphas and betas? 

Can you even ask him? Or is he saving that for later, when you’re at his home. Would he get annoyed if you asked? Would it ruin his plan that he obviously has laid out? 

Your name being said brings you back to reality, your head tilting to look up at Phil. He’s staring down at you, his eyebrows raised. 

“Welcome back.” He says, and for a second you wonder if you fell asleep again. “Lost in your head there, huh?” 

You swallow thickly. “Yeah. My instructors said I have a lot of strengths, but my one fault is I think too much. Sometimes they’d say I’m sucking all the thoughts out of the room. Though, I think that was less of an insult towards me.” 

Phil chuckles. “Got a lot of things going on in that head of yours. Just don’t let it get you too distracted. Hate for something to happen to you.” He presses a kiss to your forehead again as the plane begins its descent. 

His words almost feel like a threat again, like a silent warning that something will happen if you don’t stop thinking so much. Will he try to fix that habit for you? Will he try to break you of that? Good omegas don’t have to think, they know and they act. An omega with too many thoughts is too independent. Alphas don’t like independent omegas. They want someone to listen and do as they're told, not question their orders. 

You can’t help but sense the silent threat that radiates from him, the undertone of danger that has warning bells going off in your head. He’s been nice and polite and caring so far. 

How long will that last once you’re in the privacy of his home? 

It’s a nice neighborhood. Nicer than you’ve ever lived in, at least. The houses are big, the cars parked outside are nice, the lawns are pristine. It’s all very picturesque, it all feels very...manufactured. 

Phil drives to the end of the cul de sac, pulling into the driveway of one of the two houses facing the rest of the street. There’s an American flag hung up on the porch rustling with the soft breeze. It’s warm outside, something you haven’t missed. It’s been years since you’ve lived in Texas, ten almost. You had been eight years old when your father received his next change of station orders and your family packed up and moved again. 

That had just been shortly after Phil disappeared from your family’s lives. 

Phil pulls into the garage, parking the SUV next to a rather expensive looking classic sports car. You stare at it for a moment, questioning just what Phil does and how much he makes from doing it. You’re not sure you want to know. 

You fumble with the seatbelt as Bryan opens the door for you, blinking yourself out of your haze. He offers a hand and you let him help you out of the car to not seem rude. Phil gives you a small smile as you approach him. 

He cups your chin, staring down at your face. “Jet lagged?” He asks, his thumb stroking your jaw before letting you go. 

Jet lagged, confused, uncomfortable, unsure. All of the above. 

“Yes.” You nod. 

“Come on. I’ll give you a tour and then you can nap.” He says, slinging an arm around your shoulders. 

He opens the door into the house, unlocked, you note. The inside is nice. Clean, pristine, staged looking. You’re not sure if anyone even lives in the house. You can’t help but wonder if Phil bought this house just for this moment. 

“Cleaners come twice a week.” He says as he leads you around the first floor. “This whole space is yours, except for this room.” He says pointing out a door at the end of one hallway. “This is my office. Door’s always locked at all times. No one is allowed in besides me. You see anyone trying to get in, you tell me right away. Understood?” 

You nod. The idea of what could be behind that door has a shiver running down your spine.

“Good girl.” He says, booping your nose. “Now, for the best part.” 

He leads you upstairs, giving you a quick tour of guest bedrooms that don’t look like they’ve been touched, bathrooms far too clean to have ever been used. Why he needs so much space is beyond you. 

No, you know why. 

He leads you down to the end of a hallway, a door looming in front of you. You know what’s behind it. It’s what’s been clawing at you since the plane landed, since the drive from the airport, since you stepped foot in Phil’s home. Your home. 

It’s nice inside. Clean, well organized. It looks like a stage in a movie. The bed is large, larger than necessary you think. The comforter is a deep navy with nothing but the necessary amount of pillows on it. There’s a chair in the corner that doesn’t look like it’s ever been sat in. A TV hangs on the wall across from the bed and a dresser sits between two doors on the far wall. The closet and bathroom you assume. It’s spacious, but not comforting. 

That’s your job. 

“Don’t worry, you can add your womanly touch to it later.” Phil says, stepping up behind you. You can’t hide the way your body tenses as his hands slide up your arms. His breath fans over your ear as he leans down, pressing his face against your neck. “We’re going to make good use of this room.” His lips brush your throat, tongue darting out to lick your scent gland. He hums appreciatively. “Sweeter than I remember, those strawberries.” His arms wrap around you, pinning your back against his chest. “We were made for each other.” 

Your stomach clenches as his scent intensifies, blending with yours. You try not to panic as his lips drag up the side of your neck. There’s no stopping him. There’s no convincing him to wait. 

He presses his nose into your hair, taking a deep breath in. “Get some rest.” He finally releases you. “I’ve got some things to take care of, and I don’t doubt the girls will want to take you shopping.” 

“Girls?” You frown, turning to face him. 

“The other pack omegas. They’re excited to finally meet you.” 

Oh. You haven’t even thought about the pack or how big it is or its dynamics. Everything has happened so quickly, there’s been no time for discussions like that. You suppose you should have that conversation soon. Though, it’s been a long day already and he’s not wrong. You do need some rest. 

‘A good night’s sleep is essential for omegas to do their jobs effectively. No alpha wants a whiny omega.’ 

He brushes his hand over your hair, giving you a soft smile. “Take a nap. You look like you need one.” He presses a kiss to your forehead before he leaves, closing the door behind him. You stare at it for a long moment, half expecting him to change his mind, but you can hear him going down the stairs. You can hear everything in the silence of the house. It’s almost too quiet after the constant noise of the institute. There’s always someone talking, moving around, making noise. Even at night it was never truly quiet. 

Now the silence is almost loud in your ears. 

It won’t be silent forever. 

You stare at the bed, half tempted to just curl up on the floor. He would be mad if you slept in one of the guest rooms. He’d know immediately. You’ll have to brave the bed. Better to do it now than when you have no choice. 

“Look at you!” Hands squeeze your arms. There’s so many scents floating around you, yet it’s comforting. You’re among your own again. “Oh, you’re just a baby aren’t you?” 

Natalie, her name is. You had been introduced in a flurry of excitement, and you had lost track of most of their names. Doesn’t matter, you’ll learn them all eventually. 

Her alpha is Osmond, ‘Oz’ as he’d told you to call him, Phil’s second alpha. Not necessarily a large man, but highly intimidating nonetheless. You’d guess Natalie to be in her 30s, though you’ve never been good at guessing ages. 

“How old are you, sweetie?” She asks, squeezing your arms again. She’s trying to comfort you in your obvious state of overwhelm. 

“Eighteen.” You answer, staring up at her. 

Something flashes across her face, but it disappears as quickly as it arrived. “You are a baby.” She wraps an arm around your shoulders. “Come on, we’ve got a lot to cover and we’ve got some errands to run.” 

There’s a lot of omegas. Phil had finally broken down the pack and its dynamics over a late lunch, even introducing you to a few members on your way to Oz’s house. You had your suspicions that Phil was pack alpha, and you were right. His presence, the kind of power he radiates. You’re going to be the head omega once Phil has claimed you. Natalie has been serving that position, as second alpha’s omega. 

You’re not sure you want to take it from her. 

They’re all older than you, if by only a couple of years. You do feel like a baby in their midst, so unprepared and unsure. It’s natural to feel that way, you were taught. There’s a shift, a change in dynamics, an adjustment period in the pack when a new omega is added. 

Why couldn’t Phil have just been the family alpha type?

“Phil says you’ve known him for a while.” Anna, Marcus’ omega, says. 

You nod. “He was friends with my dad when he was stationed in Fort Worth.” 

“That was a while ago.” Jenny says. 

“About ten years.” You say. 

Silence falls in the room for a moment. It’s a tense silence, speaking volumes of their understanding and the realization of the situation. They won’t say anything. They can’t say anything. 

“Well,” Natalie says, breaking the silence. “We’re glad you’re here. If you need anything at all, you’ve got us now.” She wraps her arms around you again. She reminds you a bit of your mother, perhaps if your mother hadn’t been constrained by the controlling nature of your father. “All omegas truly have is each other, right?” 

The others agree with her, and you can’t deny it. What do omegas really have? Nothing their alphas don’t want them to have. Nothing parents, institutes, anyone in control don’t want them to have. 

All we really have is each other. 

“I mean it.” Natalie says. “Anything at all.” 

They are excited to take you shopping, despite the heaviness of the conversation that had transpired. They spoil you, throwing bags and bags in the back of the SUV, brushing off any concerns about money. Anything you want or need, you get several of them. It’s overwhelming after never getting anything but the bare necessities and what the institute wants you to have. 

Marcus, one of the higher ranking alphas in the pack, follows everyone around like a security detail. You had been concerned upon hearing only one alpha was accompanying you...until you saw Marcus for the first time. He’s big. Very big. Tall and bulky, he’s the perfect specimen of an alpha. Many young omegas’ dream alpha. Marcus is intimidating, letting off a dangerous air which causes most that pass your group to not even give you a second glance. 

He escorts your small group around, offering up no question or complaint. You almost wish he was going to be your alpha, but then again, you know almost nothing about him. You don’t even really know that much about Phil. Most of the things you know are things you overheard from conversations he had with your father. But how trustworthy are those things, really? You hadn’t understood much until now. Now it all makes sense. 

A lot of things make sense now. 

Natalie stands with you on the sidewalk as Marcus and Bryan carry load after load of bags into Phil’s house. Your house. You’re scared for what’s coming tonight. Phil won’t wait. He won’t put things off, he won’t hold off until your first heat. He’ll want to make things official now, stake his claim as soon as possible. He’s waited ten years for this. 

Natalie smiles softly down at you, a knowing look in her eyes. “Nervous?” She asks, picking up on your uneasy energy. 

You nod, trying to stop the tears from pooling in your eyes. Good omegas serve their alphas, no matter what. 

“I know what that’s like. I was scared shitless too.” She laughs quietly. “I think Oz was just as nervous too. Just relax and breathe. Phil will take care of you. That I can be confident about.” Her smile turns almost bittersweet. She knows. She understands. “You’ll be alright. I’ll come by tomorrow morning, okay?” 

You nod, trying to suppress your nervousness. Natalie will understand, though you’re not so sure Phil will. 

You look terrified as you stare at your reflection in the mirror. You bathed an hour ago and yet you still can’t quite bring yourself to leave the bathroom. You smooth your hands over the silk hugging your skin for the thousandth time. You’re shocked you haven’t worn through the thin fabric yet with your sweaty palms. 

Your eyes dart down to the sink, your stomach churning wildly as the bedroom door closes. Phil is back. You’ll have to leave the bathroom soon. You can’t spend the whole night behind the locked door. 

You don’t doubt he’d break it down eventually. 

Then he’ll be angry. 

You let out a long breath, curling your hands into fists to stop them from shaking. You have to do this. This is your job, your duty as an omega. Serve your alpha and make him happy. Be a good omega and do what he says. Obedience is an omega’s purpose. This is always what was going to happen, be it with Phil or with a stranger. Perhaps there is a small comfort in the fact you know Phil. You’re familiar with him. Why would he wait ten years for you just to hurt you? 

The little food you managed to eat churns uncomfortably in your stomach. Phil had treated you to dinner before he’d left again, giving you time to clean up and prepare yourself for tonight. For right now. 

You spritz more scent-enhancing perfume on your skin before you let out a long breath. You try to fix your face, not look quite so terrified, but you’re not sure you can hold it as you unlock the door, turning the knob. 

The light in the closet is on, the door half open. Phil must be in there, likely having to maneuver around bags. You’d unpacked some things and put them away, but you’d nearly had a breakdown when you reached the lingerie store bags. You’re wearing some of it now, the silk robe and little white number your fellow omegas had gotten you. Specifically for tonight, you think. You won’t be wearing it again. 

The closet door opens fully, Phil standing there in nothing but his jeans. His eyes trail your body as you stand there awkwardly in the middle of the room. His teeth sink into his lip, his scent thickening. You’re trying to look anywhere but at him but you can’t help the way your eyes are drawn to his form. He’s just as tall and muscular as you remember, more lean than bulky like your father had been. His skin is pale, though you can’t imagine him spending much time lounging in the backyard by the pool. Under the awning at the grill with a beer in hand as he used to do, that you can picture. 

“Look at you.” He says, turning off the light before stepping fully out of the closet. “All wrapped up like a present just for me.” 

You feel like vomiting as he approaches you slowly. You feel like a rabbit trapped in the sights of a hungry wolf, too afraid to run, too afraid to fight back. You’re going to be devoured and there’s no stopping it. 

You jump as his hand cups your face, your eyes darting up to his. There’s a soft look in them, an attempt at soothing your fear. There’s nothing he can do to make this easier, though, other than just get it over with. 

It’ll get easier. That’s what Anna told you. Eventually your omega will be happy, content with a good alpha and a pack. It’s just an adjustment. That’s why it’s recommended to wait when adding a new omega. Get past the adjustment period before reaching this stage. 

How do you stop an alpha that’s been waiting ten years? 

Most alphas don’t wait anyway. 

“Don’t be scared, darlin’.” He says, lips tilting up in a smile. “I’ll take good care of you.” 

His fingers tug at the ties of the robe around your waist, your heart thudding in your chest. You’re shocked he can’t hear it. It’s pulsing in your ears, nearly blocking out all sound as he pulls the tie free, revealing your lacy lingerie underneath. He lets out a low whistle as he pushes the robe off your shoulders, letting it drop to the floor. 

“Look. At. You.” He says, enunciating each word. His hands slide down your sides, brushing lace and smooth skin. “Can’t wait much longer.” He nearly groans, his gaze darkening. He steps up closer to you, your gaze locked on his. You can’t look down, you can’t stare at the tent in his jeans, you can’t stare at the bulge that’s brushing against your pelvis with every breath. “You ever done this before?” He asks. 

You shake your head, swallowing the lump in your throat. “N-No.” 

“No?” He raises a brow. “Not even a kiss?” 

You shake your head. 

“Pure little thing, all for me.” He nearly growls, pushing his body fully against yours. His hand cups the side of your neck, something tingling in the back of your brain as his fingers brush the sensitive skin on the back of your neck. 

You’re distracted from that tingle though as he kisses you, his lips rough against yours. You’re not sure what to do, but he doesn’t seem to care. His other arm wraps around your waist, pulling you tight against him. Your stomach is churning, not entirely from nerves anymore as his scent completely takes over, clouding your mind. Despite your nerves and hesitation, your omega purrs appreciatively. He smells good, like alpha. It’s exactly what your omega wants, what she’s been craving. 

“Fuck,” He groans against your lips, hands tugging at the lace covering your lower back. “So fucking sweet.” He bites at your lower lip, harder than you're expecting. You let out a quiet nose but that only seems to encourage him. 

He pulls away from you, turning you towards the bed. Your palms fall against the mattress to catch yourself. The comforter has been pulled down, your hands falling against the sheets. White sheets. 

Phil’s hands drag up your back until it reaches the top of the lace. He rips it easily, tearing it down the back before he pushes it off your shoulders. His hands run over your skin as he pushes the lace from your body, his back meeting your chest. His skin is warm against yours, his bulge pushing up against your ass at this angle. 

“Sweet little omega.” He growls, pressing his face into your neck, inhaling deeply. “All for me. All mine, aren’t you?” 

“Yes, alpha.” You say, fingers curling into the sheet beneath your hands. 

He hums appreciatively, nipping at the skin over your scent gland. You can’t help but begin to feel a stirring in your stomach. It feels good, despite everything. Your omega is growing complacent, the promise of what’s coming not nearly quite so frightening. 

It gets easier. 

Phil’s hands rest on your stomach, pushing your body tight against his. “Can’t wait for your next heat.” He groans, pushing his hips against your ass. “Gonna pump you full until it takes, give you a pup like you’ll be begging for. Keep you pumped full, just like your mama, huh. You’ll give me a big pack, won’t you?” 

You’re glad he can’t see your face as he holds you there, your eyes glued to the white sheet in front of you. You desperately fight back the tears blurring your vision. 

“Yes, alpha.” 

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[thatfreshi]

Forever and Ever (Astarion x Reader)

I'm going to sob and throw up everywhere this was so incredibly sweet.

Tw - mention of scars (i think that's it)

Recommended Song: Ronson Princess - Clarence James

Waking up to the sunlight gleaming through the red fabric, you and Astarion wrapped in each other's arms. It's odd for you to wake up before him, especially since he doesn't have to sleep all that much, but he's been particularly stressed the past couple of days. Baldur's Gate has brought up a lot of unpleasant memories, things he would've rather left behind. But sadly, everything has brought you back here, and he still wants Cazador dead. Perhaps that's what's weighing on him so heavily, knowing facing his master is so close.

You stare at his sleeping face for a long while, letting the sun continue trickling in, knowing soon he won't get this, soon that freedom of being in the sun, it'll be taken from him, just like everything else. Today you've prepared very special plans, kindly getting everyone to leave camp for the day. Before things change drastically, you want him to have something nice, a day without fighting, a day without talking about Cazador, a day without walking past taverns that he'd rather forget. You continue to smile at him, as his eyelids slowly flicker open. He smirks.

"I can practically hear you staring at me you know."

"Well good, at least you know how gorgeous I think you are."

You leave a kiss on his nose. Locking his fingers into yours, you start tracing his knuckles, all the little lines, tiny scars from fights, the callouses on his palm. He'd deny that he had them to anyone else.

"So... I have a surprise for you."

His ears perk up.

"Oh really? Whatever did I do to deserve such a thing?"

"You know I've said this a million times, but you don't have to do anything to deserve a gift my love. I just know you've been really stressed since we got back in the city, so I thought it would be nice if we had a day away from everything, just to ourselves."

"As if we could ever get time to ourselves with our hooligan friends."

You grin.

"That's the best part, I got them all to go do something else today, so we have the entire camp to ourselves!"

You feel a little bad, being so excited that your friends are leaving you alone, but Astarion likes the quiet. Sure, he's a performer, making little quips in a crowd, but it's that solitude, especially with you, that he cherishes. Maybe he was Stockholmed into it, being forced to be alone so often, but it was usually better than dealing with his 'siblings,' or Cazador. At least rats can't cut you up when they feel like having a good time.

"You seriously kicked out all of our friends so we could be alone for the day? However did you manage that?"

"I may have put some of your manipulation tactics to use..."

Last night, you just so happened to make an off-handed comment about something that would interest each of them. It wasn't too hard, especially since everyone in your group is obsessive over one subject at least, if not more. One by one, they decided they'd spend the day checking out something in the city.

"I have never been more in love with you."

You lock lips, running your hands through his hair, realizing that quite uncharacteristically, he hasn't washed it in days. He's usually quite ritualistic with his appearance, no doubt due to how he always had to look perfect. The habits simply stuck around, but he doesn't mind all that much.

"So, I have a whole day of activities planned!"

He sighs, thinking you mean some intensive itinerary.

"Okay maybe not activities, but nice little calming things to do. I call it... self-care day."

You look way too proud of yourself, and Astarion makes it known.

"What, dear gods, is self-care day? I am all for caring about yourself, as I am spectacular, but an entire day?"

"Yes. It's supposed to be overkill. Just a whole day of absolute bullshit, so you don't have to worry about anything!"

"As if I have ever gone a day without worrying."

You sit up, lifting him up to sit with you.

"Well, we're going to try, because you deserve it. Pleaseeeeee, I just want to spoil you."

He can't ignore your pleading, especially when you look at him with those soft eyes, a gaze that could ask for anything and he'd oblige.

"Alright fine, I will follow along on your self-care day, even if it sounds a little silly."

"Great! So, remember how I went out after dinner last night, and I told you that you couldn't come with me because I was doing something super special and secret?"

"Oh, when I was terrified of you roaming the city by yourself? No, why would I remember that at all?"

His voice is absolutely dripping in sarcasm.

"You know as well as anyone that I can take care of myself, you just like being a chivalrous piece of shit to people that are mean to me."

He shrugs.

"Yes. That sounds entirely reasonable, why would I not do that?"

"Okay yes whatever you like protecting me blah blah blah. We're getting away from the story. I found lots of cool little things, for example..."

Your voice trails off as you dig through your bag, trying to find the cloth sack you got your hands on yesterday. After you find it, you slowly open the pouch.

"I found your favorite tea!"

It's quite a particular brew, one you're pretty sure was made in this city. It's almost impossible to find anywhere else, and when you find it here, it's usually expensive. You hand the bag to him, and he takes in the scent. Blackberry, lavender, ginger, and a couple notes of citrus. Is it way too complex? Yes, quite, but he likes to dissect the flavor, focusing on the different components in the drink.

"You remember that thing I said, what was it... about saving money for, oh I don't know, a place to live after this? You know this is far too expensive my dear."

"It's fine, I can pickpocket a few people."

He laughs.

"You mean I can pickpocket a few people and you'll say you were there for moral support?"

"Yes."

Astarion simply sighs, because if he didn't love you, gods would he absolutely hate you. You could probably say the same thing about him though, so at least you're even. He grabs two cups from somewhere in the mess of his belongings, and the two of you make your way to the dying campfire. As you grab some water from one of the carafes, he adds some more wood to the fire, casting ignis instead of actually putting in the work to start a fire. Usually you would tease him about how he doesn't know how to start a fire, but today he's allowed to take the easy way out. You begin boiling the water for your tea.

"Okay, time for surprise number two while surprise number one is still cooking up."

"Oh, a second surprise?"

"It's self-care day, not self-care hour. There are many surprises to come."

You quickly walk to Gale's tent, bringing back a charcuterie board, filled with small finely cut fruits and mini cheese wedges.

"Ta-da!"

Astarion takes in the beauty of the spread, his heart fluttering a little. Sure, he doesn't have to eat, but he certainly lives for the finer things in life, and a charcuterie board is one of them. After all, eating things that aren't bloody animals makes him feel a little more normal. You smile, realizing he's actually excited and isn't relentlessly teasing you.

"I bought them last night and had Gale put together the spread this morning. I know it's less romantic but-"

"No my sweet it's... it's wonderful."

The two of you eat heart shaped strawberries and little pieces of cheese while you wait for the tea to brew.

"I know I joked a lot, but I do really appreciate all of this darling. It's nice, to know someone cares about me this much. Especially to know that you care about me this much."

"Of course my love. You deserve this and so much more."

You kiss his neck, leaving a little bit of juice from the strawberries. It's hard sometimes for Astarion to remind himself that the worst is behind him, that all he has to do now is deal with his master, and he can finally leave all of this shit behind him. He can finally have that life he wants, with you in some nice house, sleeping together in a nice bed every single day. It's also hard to remember that you love him, that he isn't some charity case you picked up, that you do all of this out of the kindness of your heart. He thought for the longest time that no one was truly kind, and that if they were, they were going to be dead soon enough, and yet he would do anything it took to keep you safe, one of the kindest souls he's ever met. He tears up a little, thinking about how you would care this much, that anyone could care this much about him.

"Are you okay Aster?"

You wipe a tear off his cheek.

"Yes, I'm alright. Just sentimental, that's all."

The way his eyes get wide when he cries, as if he's letting the world in for once, you always notice it.

"That's okay, you can cry all you want. Besides, usually makes you feel better after."

While you're consoling him, you pour out two cups of tea, handing him the first. You take a sip, realizing why this is his favorite. Sure, it's a lot going on, but there's something luxurious about it, soothing, as if made for royalty. Astarion wipes at a couple of his tears, and takes a sip.

"I'm serious though Tav, you have got to stop spending all of our money after this. I'll take this one nice day, but after that, it's back to pinching pennies for us."

Always worried, always thinking about the next thing, always five steps ahead. He's always had to be, playing his life like chess, knowing he's a pawn in some far greater game, knowing if he makes one wrong move he'll lose everything. You don't blame him one bit. After all, the two of you do need enough money to buy a place after all of this is over, and yet you don't worry about it, knowing you'll figure it out. Things have worked out for you so far, and they'll continue to. They simply must.

"Alright, deal."

After sitting and drinking your tea for a while, talking about what you want in the house when you finally buy it, you lead him down to the nearby creek so you can wash his hair.

"Now I know what you're going to say-"

"What, that I could simply do it myself and that you don't have to do something ridiculous like wash my hair for me?"

"Yes... something like that, yeah."

"Then why would you even try asking if you could?"

"Because I love you, and I want to, and I don't want you to have to worry about it."

You stay silent for a second.

"...and I may have bought a really nice shampoo from a store in the city even though I probably shouldn't have splurged but I just want you to have nice things..."

You make those puppy eyes at him, expecting him to say no or give you some lecture.

"Alright, if you insist."

"Wait, really?"

"Yes. Now go ahead and start before I change my mind and lecture you about how to properly bargain for things."

Now this, is a truly rare occurrence. He's so particular about his hair, to the point where he has to fix it every time you mess with it. You swiftly fill a bucket of water and take the nice shampoo out of your bag, putting yet another strawberry in your mouth.

"Seems like you're enjoying the strawberries much more than I am."

He says as he turns his back to you, the two of you sitting in the grass by the creek.

"Hey, it's a board for the both of us. If you're not eating off of it, that's your loss."

You mumble while still chewing on the fruit. He realizes you're right and grabs another piece of cheese before you eat it all. You motion for him to take his shirt off so he doesn't get water all over it, and soon you start working through his hair. It's sadly become quite knotted the past couple of days, due to neglect from the slump he's been in. You try your best not to get sad about it, knowing it's the truest sign of just how out of it he's been. Between dirt and knots and dried blood, there's plenty for you to work through, slowly but surely cleaning it all out, combing through it along the way.

"Are you sure I'm not going to look like a wet cat when you're done?"

You laugh at him.

"Hey, I never said anything about styling, just that I'd wash it. How it looks after is on you."

You don't see it, but he smiles. He has this moment of realization, a sense of clarity. This is it. The thing he's wanted all his life, he's found it, and it's someone so unlike him. And yet somehow, here you were, madly in love, eating fruit and cheese by the water, simply taking care of each other.

"I want it to stay like this forever."

He says suddenly. Your face lights up.

"Me too."

You put down the comb, wrapping your arms over the tops of his shoulders. He holds onto your hands, as if he's realizing for the first time just how real you are. You're here, and he's here, and you're in love. What a wonderful thing, to truly be in love, to have a plan, to have a future. He never really had a future, just a present, day after day. But now there's hope, a life after today, and tomorrow, and the day after.

"Would you do this again sometime? This whole, self-care thing with me? It's been quite nice."

You leave a couple of kisses on his shoulder, and he feels you smile into his skin.

"Of course. As many times as you want my love. Forever and ever."

[katz-rambles]

Hi! I saw your requests are open and I’m wondering if I can get a little Viktor xFem!Reader fic? 🥹

Maybe some angsty/dead dove themes, and lots of fluff? Maybe the Reader is taking care of Viktor while he’s in pain and they end up cuddling? Anything you want is fine! 💖

TIA if you decide to write this!!

Awww, yess! This sounds so cute. Viktors, my personal favorite, so I had a lot of fun writing this!

(fluff, angst(?) w/ comfort, gn!reader, this is it?)

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊‧꒰

Your footsteps echo throughout the empty hallway as you try and get to your lovely boyfriend as fast as you can. You haven't been able to see him all day. he and Jayce have been cooped up in the lab all day long.

It's well past midnight at this point, and Viktor still isn't home. Usually, you'd just let him do his thing, but not tonight, not when it's getting closer and closer to one in the morning, and there's still no sign of him. All signs in your mind point to the worst. Maybe he had a fit today and is in the infirmary, or maybe he just got caught up in whatever he was doing. You pray it's the latter.

The door to the lab is unlocked, so he hasn't left yet. He'd never forget to lock it. Unless there was an emergency. Your thoughts are swarming with what might have happened, none of them good. You have to brace yourself for what you think you may see when you get inside the lab.

It's quiet when you first enter, you could hear a pin drop. You look around, desperately searching for Viktor, and there he is, on the ground. "Viktor!" You quickly rush to his side, kneeling to try and figure out what's happening. He's sitting on the floor, his head resting against one of the legs of the desk behind him. His hands are gripping his leg as he lets out a low groan. He looks up at you, tears pricking the sides of his pretty eyes, and his brows are furrowed as he leans his head back and groans again.

"Okay. I'm gonna get you up, and we're going to go.. somewhere." You brush a few stray strands of hair off his face, internally panicking as you try and think of where to go. "Not the infirmary," he sighs, looking at you once again, "I've already been there." His words just make you panic even more.

You wrap one of your arms around his back and slowly help him stand up. He clings to you as you both get on your feet. His legs are wobbly, and if you weren't there, you're sure he would have fallen by now. You both take smaller steps. There's a comfort in the sound of the footsteps that are echoed by the thumping of a cane. It helps you remind yourself that he's right beside you and that he's not going anywhere anytime soon.

You silently thank whoever is listening that your shared dorm is on the same floor as the lab. It's not a far walk either, but the walk feels like it's taking forever. Every time you start to move a bit too fast, you hear Viktor groan, and it has your heart hurting for him. You know how much he hates it.

You embarrassingly fumble with the keys for a few seconds before you can actually find the right one. "It's okay, dear, I'm right here." Viktor mumbles, taking one of your hands in his. You nod and take a deep breath, finally grabbing the right key and opening the door. You help him get in the bed and leave the room to let him get changed into more comfortable wear.

He opens the door, and you immediately go inside, crawling onto the bed to lay beside him. You rest your head on his chest, and you can feel his slim fingers curl around your shoulder, pulling you closer. From this position, you can hear his heartbeat. Each beat is a tell tale sign that he's still with you. His hand starts to rub your arm, and he kisses your forehead.

He leaves his head on the crown of your head, inhaling your scent. Letting both of you know that you're with each other. "Do you think you'll be able to get better?" Your voice wavers at the last few syllables that leave your lips. You feel the vibrations of Viktor chuckling. "I hope so, my love. I really hope so." He sighs, and you move your position so you can clearly see his face. Your hand is resting on his chest, and your finger starts to trace random shapes into his skin. Moving to outline the marks that adorn him.

"But.. ehh.. don't worry about that. Let's focus on the present." He whispers, his voice barely reaches you. You place a soft kiss on his lips and rest your head back on his chest. For now, all you can do is hope that someone, somewhere, finds a cure. Maybe one day they will.

[seangelfish]

WHEN THEIR S/O GETS JEALOUS

Featured characters: Kaoru Hakaze, Rinne Amagi ♡ Tags: (Mild) angst to fluff, established relationships (separate), fem reader (she/her pronouns), not proofread. ♡ Word count: 1,023 (Kaoru), 711 (Rinne) ♡ Synopsis: Short fics of the characters' s/o getting jealous through misunderstandings or just on purpose. A/N: Needed to clean my drafts (again) lol

KAORU HAKAZE – Accidentally making you jealous

Situated in the middle of the Ensemble Square lobby, you took a seat on one of the vacant couches. You were waiting for your boyfriend to walk you home like he usually does, but he was oddly late today. Normally, he would be the one waiting for you in the lobby, so you assumed that he just had more work to do. You didn't mind waiting for him. After all, he is an idol and he was bound to be quite busy rehearsing with the rest of UNDEAD or doing some other solo work.

However, it had already been 15 minutes and he still hadn't shown up. You were getting agitated especially because he hadn't replied to your messages asking him where he was. And the worst part? He has seen those messages too!

Today had been a draining day working at Cos Pro and all you wanted was to be with Kaoru, to be held and comforted by him. So why wasn't he here? Why wasn't he replying to your messages? ...Did he forget? No, Kaoru would never!

You decided to wait for him for another five minutes. If he didn't arrive by five minutes, you were just going to go home by yourself even if Kaoru has told you multiple times not to walk home by yourself at night.

Oh, if only he would pick your calls up too... which he didn't.

Kaoru never showed up within those five minutes you spared him. You sighed but attempted not to show your frustration. You walked out of the building and was greeted by an indigo night sky scattered with stars. It would've been nice to watch these skies with your boyfriend... if he were here with you.

You continued to make your way to the bus stop but came to an immediate stop. A few metres away stood Anzu, a fellow producer at Ensemble Square, accompanied by someone you knew fairly well - Kaoru.

"Oh, I get it," you muttered to yourself, annoyance spewing out of your system. "So that's why he never showed up."

Before the two of you started dating, people titled Kaoru a 'lady's boy' as he was constantly surrounded by girls and would do anything for their attention. But you've acknowledged that those days of his were over, it's the fact that before your relationship, he had this obvious crush on Anzu.

Is he still hung up over that? Is that why he's with her and not you? His actual girlfriend?

Were you just his second option?

You didn't know what to do at that moment. You wanted to cause a ruckus, to yell at your boyfriend, but your insecurities kept telling you that if you did, it would make him like her even more.

So you just stood there pathetically, watching them speak to each other with sweet smiles on their faces. At that moment, Kaoru turned around and his eyes fell on you instantly.

"(Y/N)-"

"I've waited so long for you, Kaoru. I texted you multiple times asking where you were, but here you are," you began. "You're so annoying. You should've just told me you didn't like me anymore..."

"W-Wait, what?" he questioned before realising the situation from your perspective. "(Y/N), did you not get my message?"

"You didn't send me a message at all."

Kaoru checked his phone and you were right, there were no messages delivered to you, but what you didn't know was that he did send you a message, it just didn't send due to an error. He explained that he was going to get you, but he did get caught up in a lot of work which Anzu was a part of. So when that was finished, he decided to walk her to the bus stop before retrieving you. After all, he stood by his words - girls shouldn't walk themselves alone at night.

After the two of you bid farewell to Anzu whose bus arrived, Kaoru continued.

"I'm so sorry, (Y/N). I had my phone on silent too so I didn't know you called. I was the one who should've called," said Kaoru with such sorrow in his voice. "I'm sorry. I can't imagine how you felt when you saw me here with Producer instead of you."

Kaoru has always been correct with your emotions and reactions, and he was spot on with this one too. Perhaps it's because he knows female emotions more than the average male as he was always with them during high school.

It was silent for a moment. Kaoru was getting increasingly nervous at how quiet you were being. He tried reaching for you, but you'd take a step back each time he did.

"Do you still like her?" you asked.

"What...? Of course not," he said. "The only girl I love is you, (Y/N). The only girl I will ever long for is you. The Producer is just a friend to me now, nothing more. You're all I ever want, all I ever see. I'm sorry that this situation has made you lose your trust in me. I will do better to show you that you mean the world to me."

Kaoru always had a way with words. He seemed remorseful too, for leaving you in the lobby. Well, you supposed he didn't do it out of malice, and his words were sincere.

You took a step closer to him. "You're sure that I'm not your second option?"

He wrapped his arms around you and you let him. "You were never an option to begin with. I just knew you were the one."

After all, when he saw you were there at the bus stop with him, his eyes instantly lit up just like the stars in the sky. You may not have noticed this, but everyone around you did. Kaoru only had eyes for you and you only.

"To make it up to you, I'll sleep over at yours tonight, okay?" he suggested in which cheered you up quickly. The two of you held hands throughout the rest of the journey back to your place, happy in each others' presence.

RINNE AMAGI – Purposefully making you jealous

You hummed to yourself happily, carrying a packed lunch between your fingers. You decided to surprise your boyfriend with a homemade lunch box since he usually buys himself lunch at the cafeteria, and it would be nice if he had a home-cooked meal from time to time.

You waited for him at the cafeteria with a smile on your face as you tapped on the lunch box excitedly. You couldn't wait to see his face when you surprise him with lunch. Imagining how he'll thank you by patting your head made you feel giddy.

When Rinne finally appeared, you stood up from your seat to call him over, waving your hands to get his attention. There wasn't too many people at the cafeteria, so he should be able to spot you without any difficulty.

His eyes lit up and his lips curled into a smile. "Ah," he said as he headed towards you.

As you opened your arms, expecting him to engulf you into a hug, he completely ignored you and passed by you without second thought.

“There you are, onee-san!” he greeted.

You turned around, confused by his behaviour. Your arms drop to your sides as you find him beginning to spread his arms wide for Anzu, the producer who was currently eating her lunch at one of the tables behind you.

You stand in your spot, completely speechless. Your hands began to tingle as your eyes threatened to spill tears.

"Oh..." you muttered.

You quickly walked away from your table, leaving the lunch box behind. Thoughts about your relationship with Rinne spun in your head. It wasn't as if he didn't see you. He purposefully ignored you and went straight to Anzu. But what about you, his girlfriend? What was he trying to imply by doing that? Is he already throwing you away for his producer?

"(Y/N)!"

A hand grabbed your wrist, forcing you to stop in your tracks. Rinne turned you around to face him.

"I was kidding!" he blurted out. "Sorry, sorry. I thought it would be funny!"

You stayed silent, your eyes focused on the ground. He didn't sound too sincere. Your hands clutched themselves into fists as your nails dug deep into your palms. Rinne was aware of this. He took your hands in his to slowly unfold them from their current position.

"(Y/N)~" he sang. "Come on, look at me..."

He held your chin up so he could look you in the eyes, but is surprised when he found out that those eyes of yours were coated in tears. Immediately, he brought you to his embrace, stroking your back apologetically.

"I'm sorry," he murmured. "(Y/N), I'm sorry."

The sincerity in his voice was apparent now.

You gripped onto his shirt angrily. "You're not funny..." you hissed. "That wasn't funny."

"You're right. It wasn't. What could I do to make it up to you, huh?" he said softly. He let you go so he could cup your face to plant a kiss on your lips. You avoided his affection by not returning the kiss. "You looked so happy when you saw me too... Argh, I feel really bad now."

"You should..." you mumbled, returning back to your table to show him the lunch box you made for him. "I even cooked you something for lunch too and this is what you pull?"

Rinne is able to read the room well, but he just couldn't help it. A laugh erupted from inside him. You were just too cute!

"Kyahaha, you cooked me lunch?!" he exclaimed excitedly. "Aww, that's so cute. My girlfriend's the best!"

He hugged you from the side in order to kiss you on the temple. A small smile appeared on your face, but you tried looking away so he wouldn't be able to see it. Rinne saw it alright.

"(Y/N), I love you," he said in his most serious tone. "I'm sorry for what I pulled on you, but let's enjoy this lunch together, okay? I'm hungry for what you cooked me!"

You rolled your eyes, but mimicked the grin on his face. Despite Rinne's childish antics, you appreciated how quickly he is able to make you smile again. The two of you eat lunch together, laughing at each other's jokes and stories.

Intro page | Ensemble Stars masterlist | Rules

[ivyyisbored22]

𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭— 𝐁𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐅𝐅

Note: Check Description and other chapters first to understand the story ^^♡

Chapter 8

WARNING!!!🔞 This Chapter contains SMUT: Unprotected sex, oral (f.recieving), morning sex, mention of kink and size (I think it's that?), strong language, pet names, multiple orgasms.

Minors do not interact!!!

Bang Chan

The day I met Aria when my father introduced us to eachother a week before our wedding, some instinct told me she will be the death of me.

And I was right.

With those soft curls, brown eyes, that small beauty mark on her chin which was unwantedly attractive to my eyes, she is going to be why I'll lose every sense of control I've had of myself.

Every part of me wanted to have her last night, to make feel like she is the one and every part of her drove me crazy. Because my mind was tipsy, I wouldn't have been able to worship her the way she deserved. But one day, which isn't so far, I will have her.

It's obvious Aria desires me the same way I do, but fuck, my mind is never straight when I'm around her. Maybe Hyunjin was right. I should try talking to her sober. Instead of like a fucking alcoholic.

Never in the 26 years of my life was I ever attracted to woman the way I was attracted to Aria. She held something, a magnetic pull in her voice and in every single thing about her. A part of me wants to get lost in my world with her, forgetting about any deadline of us.

I woke up before an hour before sunrise, sitting in front of my laptop, I worked until I heard the birds chirping outside my window. Which I think was the first time I ever heard them since I moved into the mansion last year.

I usually either wake up late or don't sleep at all, depending on what I do the night before but ever since my father brought up about the marriage topic and I got married to Aria, my mind has been focusing a lot on work than anything I used to do when I was in Europe.

I was never a workaholic back then, not even when I first got the COO position, I don't know what fucking alien took over my body.

"Once you bring her home, you will understand that life is more than just partying Christopher"

My father's words replayed in my head again, echoing through the morning silence. He was right, as much as I hate to admit it.

My mind drifted back to the day of our wedding. Despite the conversation about the agreement the two of us had the night before, Aria's face was swelled with happiness on the wedding day, a smile I remember like it's a photographic memory. It's now that I'm realizing, that the smile was masking the uncertainty she must have felt.

Maybe this new focus. This relentless drive to work, was a distraction from her, my way of providing for her, of ensuring that our future was secure, well, at least for a year. But still, the change was startling.

Back in Europe, my nights were filled with laughter, music, and the constant thrill of the unknown. My friends used to joke that I would never settle down, that I was a free spirit, untethered and wild.

Yet here I was, grounded and, dare I say it, domesticated.

I looked up at my calendar on my phone, I didn't have any plans today neither was I in the mood to go to the office after finishing half of the work at home itself, I thought to check up on Aria and see if she had any plans. I quickly freshened up, ruffling my hair, I left my room and walked to hers at the other end of the corridor.

Once I reached the door to her room, hesitation crawled but like Bin said,

"If you want to make it through the next 300 whatever days without losing your fucking mind, maybe try talking to her. Really talking."

I had lock my ego up in a cage and properly communicate with her.

As I was about to knock on the door, it swung open revealing a cutely sleep-rumpled Aria, tousled but fixed hair and pillow crease on her face.

It looked like was expecting me to be at work, she instantly covered her chest, seeing the view in front of her.

She was wearing just a silk camisole and boyshorts, that gave me a view of too much of her flawless skin. The top did barely to cover those sweet, peeking nipples.

My jaw tightened at the sight at the same time sending an electrifying shock straight to my cock. Was she roaming the mansion like this when I was at work?! Almost half-naked while my staff was around?

"Chris, oh my— what are you doing here?" She stammered, her hand over her chest and eyes wide with surprise. They fell on my bare torso first and then met my face earning sly smirk from me.

"I...um. I just thought to— check up on you—"

Fuck.

The words kept coming out of my mouth before I could process them in my brain but I managed to keep my gaze fixed on her face.

Aria's eyebrows drew together, her expression a mix of confusion and concern. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, everything's fine." I replied quickly, cursing at myself that this was again, a bad idea.

She blinked, clearly taken aback. "I thought you were supposed to be at work." Her voice tinged with uncertainty.

"Took the day off," I said rubbing the back of my neck and sliding my other hand in the pocket of my shorts.

"I just," I swallowed, "I wanted to see you" I finally admitted.

"Oh," She was unaware of what to say next and so was I. The moment seemed to stretch like an eternity and I fucking hated it.

"Alright then," I turned to walk downstairs but her soft hand held my wrist stopping me. "Chris wait," Her brown eyes locked with mine, steady breathing but I knew she still felt slightly intimidated by me.

For a moment the two of us stood still without a movement. The next, before either of us could say anything, I cupped her face and crushed my lips against hers.

Roughly. Possessively.

She pulled me inside her room, her fingers pressing on my arms then sliding up my neck, I kicked the door shut behind me, fisting her hair and not breaking the kiss as we fell onto her bed.

My tongue stroked the seam of her lips, I grunted, tilting her neck, demanding entrance, this time not letting any damn thing interrupt what I was going to do.

No contract. No deadline. Just her. Just us.

Her hands sank into my hair as my palm swept beneath her little silk top. We kissed like we needed eachother before the world ended.

Frantic. Hungry. Desperate. But I couldn't get enough. I needed more of this. More of her.

I broke the kiss as I trailed my path down her neck, sucking on her sweet skin, leaving my marks and making her mine. Only mine. I didn't give a fuck about anything else at this moment other than her.

"Chris..." The sound of my name as she whimpered when I cupped her breast beneath the top sent another jolt of electricity straight down to my cock, it throbbed behind the barriers of my shorts.

"That's it sweetheart. After today my name shall be the only thing you remember" I said as I slid her top off and shorts down with little effort, leaving her completely naked and bare beneath me, it was the sight of a lifetime.

Flawless skin, breasts the right size to knead and suck on, perfect little waist, I eyed her body capturing every single detail like a wanderer discovering a hidden paradise.

I leaned low and kept my mouth around her nipple, sucking the sensitive tip and rolled the other with my index and thumb, earning another whimper of my name.

"You're such a good girl"

Neck. Arms. Breasts. Every part of her had a pleasing marks of hickeys, I was eager to map every inch of her heavenly body with my hands and my mouth as I made my way down kissing the valley of her stomach to her pubic bone.

Her soft skin was hot as she trembled when I got closer to her pussy, the scent of her arousal and the glazed sight in front of me felt like snorting a line of pure cocaine. I softly placed a kitten kiss on the awaiting clit, goosebumps pebbling her skin as I stroked her thighs.

"Chris, God Chris, please"

"Please what sweetheart?" I taunted.

"Are you that excited to have my mouth on your sweet cunt and eat you out?" I cooed. She looked up at me and her head fell back on the pillow when I licked her slit.

"Tell me babydoll"

Aria's breathing increased as her hand fisted my hair so hard, the tiny ache just turned me on more.

"Yes," The word left her mouth in a plea mixed with a demand. "Please Chris"

The next second my face was buried in the wet heat between her legs.

Her back arched instantly as her juices coated my tongue, I delved on her clit like a man starving to death. Sucking and devouring her cries of pleasure as my eyes rolled to the back of my head.

Where I thought her presence drove me insane along with whiskey that had me tipsy, Aria's moans and her taste down here were fucking intoxicating. My cock twitched, matching the rhythm of my pulse, begging for me to dive into her.

Aria bucked her hips, pleading to stop, but her body begged to keep going, moan after moan escaping from her throat. Slow licks and flicks, I focused on her dripping cunt, a twelve course meal I'd enjoy for the rest of my life.

"No...please...I...more..." Aria pleaded and begged, coating my face by every passing second. I wanted all of this inked on my brain.

Her back arched as I continued to feast on her sweet little pussy. I sucked on her clit and pushed a finger stretching her lips, then another, pumping in and out, her knuckles turned white as she grabbed on to the sheets for dear life.

Forget coffee, water or a great buffet for breakfast, she tasted so much fucking better.

I groaned, sweat beading my forehead as I pulled my fingers out and I rested her legs on my shoulders, fiercly holding on her thighs, letting my tongue thrust inside of her. The taste of her made me want to do nothing but stay here and let this morning last forever.

My nose kept nudging on her clit as I ruthlessly tongue fucked her, eating her out, that tore sharp cry after cry. After feasting on her cunt, Aria came down shuddering, her orgasm flooding my senses and my face as I was sent to the ends of insanity.

"Want me to stop sweetheart?" I towered her, wiping my chin with back of hand, her taste still lingering on my tongue. I placed my hand next to her on the pillow holding me up, the other hand pinched her nipple and then went down circling that swollen nub.

I knew she wanted more. But I loved hearing it. Making her beg.

Aria shook her head whimpering, her face was tinted pink as her cheeks were flushed with arousal, my mind clouded with lust. My cock was so hard it threatened to pierce through my shorts.

"You have to tell me babydoll."

"Don't stop Chris, please"

Nothing turns me on more than the sound her sweet voice pleading me. I freed myself from the fabrics of my shorts and boxers, they joined her clothes on the floor. Her chest was still heaving from the aftermath of her first orgasm. Oh baby she's going to come more than once.

"You will come for me again okay?" My voice remained rough even though I tried to soften, I traced her pussy with the pad of my thumb and sank two fingers again to find her still soaking.

So wet. So fucking gorgeous.

Her eyes fell on my coated fingers as I pulled them out and licked the glistening pleasure, then at my cock jutting out, long and painfully hard, when she slowly got from up her high.

I leaned down to her ear, "I'm going to make you feel really good baby"

I spread her legs further apart and positioned myself in between, grazing the tip in the inner thigh and the folds of her opening, teasing her a bit more.

"Christopher,"

Never has my name sounded this good when someone said it. I felt a different sense of pride and possessiveness when it came out of her mouth. In that voice.

The tip was still slowly grazing her opening, she was so wet, it kept slipping. I was testing my own patience along with hers, without another thought I gripped her waist, Aria's head fell back on the pillows the second I thrusted through her wet entrance smoothly.

Her legs instantly wrapped around my hips locking me into place, it was now I knew I have found my heaven on earth.

"Too— big...ah" I couldn't help but chuckle at the way she moaned and commented about my size.

"But you take it so well baby" I teased.

A muffled moan.

I stayed in place for a few seconds, letting her adjust to my length and slowly pulled out and then slammed back in.

Starting slowly and easy first, then I picked up a hard and fast pace, pounding into her, each thrust making her breasts bounce. Sweat slicked her body, her eyes and mouth were half shut as she kept moaning, it was the sweetest sound to my ears.

Christ. I've never had a kink for breasts but her tits alone were enough to drive me mad. And this sweet tight little pussy that took in my cock like she was fucking made for it.

Nails grooved scars on my back and my arms, the piercing sting felt good more than pain. She was so tight, her walls clenched nicely around my cock, it drove me out of my mind.

I slowly leaned to her face and kissed away the tears that had run down her cheeks, Aria slowly peeled her eyes open as she looked at me, they were fogged with intense pleasure and unshed tears glittering like a sparkling galaxy.

She looked at me in a way no one ever has, it fucking hurt like a punch to the soul, leaving me breathless and reeling. My mouth crashed onto hers desperately, a tidal wave possessiveness washing over me frantically.

"Mmm" She hummed into my mouth, I chuckled swiping a strand of hair from her face.

"What do you want sweetheart?"

"More— more" And that undid me.

Her pussy squeezed my cock as I fucked her harder and faster, watching her back arch and bouncing breasts, the dirtiest symphonies of moans filling the room. Seeing her take in my cock this gorgeously was a sight I want to keep seeing for the rest of my life.

"Fuck...Aria..." I hissed, her walls pulsated, I was at the edge and if I didn't release I would literally explode right here.

She looked so fucking gorgeous beneath me, I could have believed she was unreal.

No part of my skin goes untouched and no part of hers goes unfucked. I held her pretty waist beneath my palms, picking my pace, sucking on her sweet nipples, her moans and whimpers and cries sounded MUCH better than the melodic sounds from the strings of my guitar.

"Chris, I— I..." Aria moaned.

"You will sweetheart"

Molten lava dripped down my spine as I hit her G spot, her back arched, giving me the once again perfect view of her beautiful chest.

"Come," Before the word fully left my mouth she came all over my cock in a harmonious cry, flooding my cock with her juices.

I let her settle for a few seconds but then kept fucking her until another orgasm chased the first, and another, she shattered apart falling into a glorious limp of a mess and in that moment I was grateful to be alive.

After what was her fourth time coming, a few seconds later I came inside of her in a powerful orgasm that felt like a volcanic eruption, thunder roaring in my chest.

Never had sex felt so good like this.

There was sweet love making and rough hard fucking and definitely many more. But this? This felt like it was a route to find peace and but at the same time, a route to insanity.

I slowly pulled myself out, in taking the sight of her wrecked wet pussy and kissed her inner thigh making my way upto her face and fell next to her. The both of us starting the day in a very Good Morning.

"Goodness Chris I...," I chuckled at her breathless response and turned to her, placing a kiss on her forehead and pulled her into my chest in a tight embrace.

I had surely pushed her beyond her limits after making her come so much, I held her tight, wrapping her with my warmth.

I've had my time back in Europe with other women, but I cuddles after sex wasn't my thing. It was way too intimate and I couldn't get myself lost in that. And I had my rules when fucking.

Don't look at me in the eyes. Don't expect aftercare or whatever. Simple.

But Aria. Damn it. She is the reason why the icy barriers I built around my heart is threatening to crack.

"How do you feel sweetheart?" I asked, her lips met the soft skin on my neck causing me to inhale a deep breath.

"Amazing" Her eyes closed, my hand glided up from her ass to her waist, my grip tightening.

"Is this why you took your day off?" She asked mischievously, I let out a deep chuckle, my grin widening.

"Maybe. Since I'm always having trouble getting you," I pulled her, her chest pressed against my chest, "I had enough of it"

"I see. Well, I didn't know Bang Christopher Chan desired so much"

"You don't know how crazy you drive me" I said pressing my mouth on hers hard and demanding. She melted against me as I kissed her, never getting tired of her taste.

We remained in each other's embrace for a while before I glanced at the clock on the wall, it was almost 9am, I slowly removed my arm from under her neck and sat up on the bed, the sheets rumpled around my waist.

She got up as well, an expression painting across her face, worrying if I might leave after having my time. Honestly I did want to leave now that I fucked her but somehow something made me stay with her.

I leaned in and smiled at her, kissing the corner of her lips.

"You've plans for today?" I don't know why, but I wanted to spend some time with her, my friends' advices still replayed in my head every now and then. She shook her head, looking at me, curiosity filled in her eyes.

"Good. I have a nice spot we can go to"

I'm definitely getting myself locked in a complicated cage, mixing sex when we have an expiration date.

But when time comes, I'll deal with it then.

------------------------

Taglist: @bowsnbang @bangchannie97lov @hwasmints @laurenalpha123

If you want to be added to the taglist, let me know <3

Thank you for reading!

xx,Ivyy

Next Chapter

[slayfics]

do u write yandere if u do can i request a yandere bakugo PLS

have a great day and ignore this if u can't do or ur not comfortabel

Bakugo takes care of a problem for you.

You let out a heavy sigh as you lay down on Katsuki's chest.

"Everything alright?" He asked, wrapping an arm around your waist.

"Yeah, just a tough day at work," you explained.

"What happened?" He asked.

"Nothing really- it seems dumb to complain about compared to your job," You said, nuzzling into his chest more.

"You have a right to have tough days too- so tell me what happened," He pressed.

"Ugh," You exclaimed. You wanted to forget about your day, but you knew Katsuki too well. Now that he knew something was bothering you, he wasn't going to let up until you told him. "Fine, one of the higher-ups at work gave me some feedback on my work. Stuff I should have been doing differently. I understand now what I need to change but- it was the way she said it. It was so fucking rude and made me feel stupid," You explained.

A low growl came from Katsuki's chest as he squeezed your waist tighter. "It was the bitchy brunette, right?" He asked.

You picked your head up off of his chest to look at him, stunned by his comment. You had never given him any descriptions of your co-workers, and to your knowledge, he hadn't been to your job, you never even told him the address of where you worked. "What?" you asked to clarify.

"Never mind," He said as he put both of his hands on the side of your face and brought you closer to kiss the top of your forehead. "Forget about work, it's all going to be fine. Let's get some sleep. I have to be up early for a patrol, and you need some rest."

You wanted to press further about his comment, but he was right, you were exhausted, and you didn't want to keep him from his sleep after the tiring day of hero work he had.

The next morning, Katsuki had left before you woke up. He was careful to keep quiet so as to not disturb you. You went through your usual routine and dreaded every second you got closer to work. You felt completely burnt out dealing with the high expectations of your work, and the little understanding of your higher-ups from simple mistakes that were bound to happen when you had to rush so much to meet the expectations.

Hu, strange, you thought as you pulled into the parking lot of your job. Your co-worker, who has been giving you a hard time, wasn't here yet. Usually, they were annoyingly early every day.

You grabbed your belongings out of your car and made your way into the building. Walking past a couple of your other co-workers, you overheard their conversation.

"Isn't that so scary!" One exclaimed.

"Wait- her car just exploded?!" The other asked.

"Yeah! They said it must have been something short-circuiting in the car but- I've never heard of something like that!"

"Was she hurt!?"

"I don't know!"

Your stomach dropped, and you sneakingly made your way to your desk.

This had to just be a coincidence right?! There's no way Katsuki tracked down your co-worker and did anything. He was a hero, he wouldn't do something like that... right?

You took a deep breath and sat down at your desk- when you noticed a sticky note on your desk.

Your hands shook as you picked it up and read the message that was in Katsuki's writing.

You should have a much more peaceful day today, kitten.

Thank you for the request! I hope this lives up to your expectations.

Tags: @unofficialmuilover @maddietries @fiannee

[stellarspecter]

stwg daily prompt 4/10/24: guitar

1.8k, steddie, modern au, guitar teacher eddie/guitar student steve (+ dustin as steve's brother)

so this is literally just me giving eddie my exact job and letting the plot bunnies do as they may. will be up on ao3 in a day or two once i've had time to look it over and think of a title but here it is! divider graphic by @saradika-graphics

“Let’s try that verse again, okay? 5, 6, 7, 8…” 

The little girl in front of Eddie plays with the utmost concentration, her little brow scrunched up as she tries to switch to a D chord. 

“It’s our little triangle, remember? On the — good, exactly,” Eddie nods and keeps strumming. “And to C, slide down to the first fret… 1, 2, 3, to E minor, yep, 1, 2, 3, 4.” The last notes fade into the slightly stale air of the practice room. “Good job! You did a lot better with your chord transitions this time. We’re about out of time for today, but try and practice that verse and chorus at home, okay? And then we’ll see about that bridge next week,” he tells her.

She nods with a big gummy smile. “Okay!” Eddie helps her put her guitar back in its case and walks her back out to the little waiting area they have behind the lessons desk. It’s honestly a little cramped, but before they hired him, he hadn’t even known that Guitar Center offered lessons at all, so it makes sense. He sends the girl off with her parents and a promise to practice every day before he slides behind the desk to check his schedule for his next student.

Usually he has a half hour gap on Wednesdays that he uses to practice for his band or chat with his coworkers, but today there’s a new name on the schedule: Steve Harrington.

“Huh,” he mutters. His manager hadn’t mentioned any new sign-ups to him. Maybe it was from online? With a shrug, he settles in to wait for the guy to show up. It’s 5:57, so he’s still got a few minutes.

After a minute or two of dicking around on his phone, someone calls out, “Hey, Eddie!”

He looks up to find his 6:30 student standing in front of him, an excitable kid named Dustin Henderson. He’s fun to chat with, and Eddie looks forward to his lessons — especially since it’s an opportunity to get yet another young mind hooked on metal. Sure, he’ll play and teach whatever is required, but he’ll never forget his one true love.

“Henderson,” Eddie responds, standing up and leaning against the pillar bracketing the desk. “You know your lesson is in half an hour, right?”

“I know!” He replies, chipper as ever. “I’m after him!” He jerks a thumb back behind him, and Eddie finally notices the most beautiful man he’s ever seen standing behind Dustin.

Dear god. If this is his new student, he’s absolutely fucked.

“Hi,” the man says, extending a hand when it becomes clear Eddie is incapable of forming words. “I’m Steve.”

Eddie forces himself to act normal and grabs his hand, shooting him a smile that he hopes comes off as confident. “Eddie,” he replies. “Munson. I play guitar.”

“I’d sure hope so,” Steve jokes, eyes dancing, and Eddie is fuuuuucked. Completely and absolutely. How is he going to be able to be alone with him in a tiny practice room for a whole half hour? 

“Well, you’re in luck,” Eddie says, kind of operating on autopilot while his brain reboots. “It’s. Guitar Center.” He mentally facepalms and claps his hands together, spinning and walking them back towards the practice rooms. “So, Steve, what brings you here on this fine day? Are you Dustin’s… dad?”

Usually, his mom is the one to drive him and wait in the lobby, but it’s not out of the question that Steve could be his stepdad or something, with their different surnames. He seems around Eddie’s age, but maybe he’s just into milfs or something? 

He can’t be single. The universe is never that kind to Eddie.

Dustin bursts out laughing. “My dad? Dude, he’d had to have had me at like, twelve!”

Eddie flushes. “Well, I don’t know!”

“He’s my brother.” Steve swoops in and saves him from embarrassment. “The Hendersons took me in when I was sixteen, that’s why we have different last names.”

Eddie nods. “Oh, cool. So I assume Dustin got you to take lessons too?”

Steve laughs a little, just when Eddie thought he could finally cope with his unearthly beauty, the dick. “Yeah, he’s dead set on us starting a family band or something. I told him I could just dust off my piano skills, but he insisted. Little twerp.” He goes to ruffle his brother’s hair, and Dustin expertly ducks — clearly a common occurrence in their household.

“Cool,” Eddie says again. “Well, you ready to get started?” 

Steve nods, and Dustin goes to look around the store and mess with the DJ equipment. 

“So, you said you played piano? How long ago was that?” Eddie asks as he ushers him into the practice room.

“Oh, years and years. My parents made me take lessons when I was a kid, stopped in middle school, so it’d have to be… ten years or something now? Eleven? Jesus, I’m getting old,” Steve answers.

Eddie laughs. “Oh, trust me, I get it. Every time I say I’ve been playing guitar for over a decade a little part of me dies.” They share a laugh as they both get situated on their matching stools and guitars on their laps. “So that’s a little bit about me, that I’ve been playing for over a decade. I didn’t go to school for music or anything, but I’m in a metal band in my free time, and I like to think I have a pretty good understanding of music theory and techniques after all this time, so don’t worry, you’re in good hands.” It’s easier than he’d expected to slip into his practiced first lesson spiel, but he’s still hyper-focused on Steve’s reactions, taking in every hint of a smile. “I’m actually self-taught, so I learned basically by just watching YouTube tutorials and spending a lot of time on Ultimate Guitar,” Eddie explains with a wry smile. 

“That’s really cool,” Steve says, impressed. “I could never do that.”

“Well, that’s what I’m here for, right?” It’s a familiar back and forth to Eddie. Maybe he can do this. “I like to run my lessons the same way — instead of learning some random two-measure exercises from a book, we learn songs that you want to learn, and through that we can learn some new chords and strumming patterns and techniques. How does that sound?”

“Perfect,” Steve says. “That was always the worst part of piano lessons. The music was so boring.” His nose wrinkles in distaste.

“Awesome,” Eddie says, and pulls out his phone, already open to his notes app. “So, what kind of music do you want to learn?”

“Uh.” Steve pauses. “I, uh, I listen to a lot of, um, pop? And, like, indie? Kind of just top forty radio type stuff.” 

Eddie nods as he writes that down. “Cool, cool. Any artists or songs in particular? Or just pop as a whole?”

“I dunno,” Steve admits. “I like most of the popular stuff. Oh, there’s this one artist my friend has been getting me into — Chappell Roan?”

“Nice,” Eddie responds, somehow managing to keep from jumping with joy that he might actually have a chance with this guy if he listens to gay people music. 

“You don’t… mind?” Steve asks hesitantly. Eddie looks up at him, confused. “I just mean, you don’t exactly look like you would love all that girly pop music.” He waves a hand at Eddie’s Metallica shirt, ripped jeans, and patch-covered vest. 

Eddie shrugs. “Well, maybe, but it’s my job. You wouldn’t believe the amount of Swifties I’ve got, I couldn’t avoid it if I wanted to. And I mean, it is pretty catchy,” he concedes, if only to see Steve smile again. “And,” he continues, “even better, really easy to play.”

“Oh, good,” Steve laughs.

Eddie pockets his phone and reaches for his folder, taking out a sheet of empty chord diagrams. “So usually for a first lesson, we just learn a few basic chords, and then get started with our first full song next week, sound good?”

Steve nods. “Yep.”

“Great.” Eddie sets the sheet on the stand in front of them and pencils in two little dots on the first diagram. “Here’s our first chord. This is called an E minor. You wanna put your first finger on the second string…”

He goes on to teach Steve an E minor chord, then a C chord, then a G chord, and by the time they’re done learning D, Eddie thinks that Steve’s fingers are going to haunt his dreams. He’s not mad about it. Just sad that he won’t be able to see them in person again for a whole week.

They make their way through the lesson, stumbling from one chord to another, but by the end of the thirty minutes, Steve is already doing pretty well with his chord transitions. Eddie’s honestly impressed. He drops him off in the lobby and exchanges him for Dustin, who is bouncing up and down with excitement.

“How was he,” he bursts out as soon as the door is closed.

Eddie snorts. “He was good. Just learned a few chords.”

Dustin waits expectantly. “And?”

“And what?”

“And how was he! Like, was he excited? Did you have a good time? Are you guys gonna be friends now?” 

Eddie rolls his eyes fondly and takes a seat. Technically, he’s not supposed to be actual friends with students, or even talk with them outside of work, but with Dustin and now Steve, they don’t feel like paying customers so much as friends he’s doing a favor for. “He was good. I’m sure he’ll tell you in the car on the way home.”

Dustin groans. “Come on.”

“You come on. You better have been practicing, show me what you’ve been doing.”

With that, Dustin drags himself to his seat, and the lesson goes great from there, both of them distracted from Steve by the intricacies of Stairway to Heaven.

When he brings Dustin out, he’s almost taken off guard by Steve waiting for them. In just half an hour, he’d already forgotten his stunning resemblance to a Greek god. It’s honestly unfair for his memory to do that to him. 

“Hey,” Steve greets them. “Had a good lesson?”

“Obviously,” Dustin scoffs.

“He did great today,” Eddie tells him, “And so did you. Just remember to practice, alright? Gotta build that muscle memory.”

Dustin rolls his eyes, too used to hearing it, but Steve nods enthusiastically. “Yeah, of course. See you next week?”

It’s a simple phrase. He says it every day. It’s a contractual obligation that yes, he will see them next week. But when Steve says it, it feels like a promise. Eddie can’t wait to fulfill it.

“Yeah,” he breathes, mesmerized by the way the fluorescent lights bring out the green in Steve’s eyes. “See you next week.”

Steve smiles and turns to leave, picking his way through the aisles of musical miscellany. Eddie can already hear Dustin interrogating him about his lesson. He leans back against the wall with only one thought in his mind: only seven days until he gets to see Steve Harrington again. 

He’ll be counting every single one.

[askthe-r-m-au]

I'm sick and it's the middle of the night...

Yall know what that means...

R-M FIC TIME!!!! :D

Uhh yeah It's been a while since I did chapter 1 (link right here) so I think nows the time to continue!

Man I wish I could just copy paste stuff from my brain-

Uhh so ye let's go

[The Ring-Misstress Chapter 2: A Promotion]

Several days have passed since Pomni and Caine became "coding buddies." Or- since Pomni made her ultimate plan to find the exit. Other than that, it was actually kinda nice. The more time she spent fixing things around the circus, the less time she'd have to spend alone in a room that wasn't hers. Just doing mundane things... heck, maybe that's all she needed...

☆Well then, looks like we're done for the day!! Great work as always, Pomni!☆

And just like that, the mundane was over.

♧Oh... uh, thanks...♧

☆I best be off for now then! Oh-! Don't be late tomorrow morning, because I have some news for all of you!!☆

He looked up to see the Jester walking away, giving a weak thumbs up.

☆Alright then, goodnight, my dear!☆

Pomni shut the door behind her and crawled into bed. She lay there, staring at the ceiling as she recollected the days events. She thought about the last thing Caine brought up. "News? What was so important that they all needed to know??" Part of her kind of dreaded it, but...

Another part of her didn't.

Meanwhile, Caine slowly flew down the circus hall. He, too, reflected on the work they got done today. He was proud of it, really he was!! But... he wondered what caused these sorts of bugs in the first place. He thought about the first time pomni fixed a line of code. What even happened to bubble that day?? He's never seen him glitch like that before. It almost looked like a-

°○ Hi boss...○°

Speak of the devil...

°○All these new textures sure look shiny...○°

Bubble chimed, staring at the wall and licking his lips.

☆Bubble, if you so much as Touch a PIXEL, I-☆

Bubble began gnawing on the wall, ignoring Caine's sterness.

"Pop!"

The ringmaster let out an annoyed sigh, snapping his fingers to fix the wall.

"Just how is he going to deal with Bubble now?! With the big important stuff coming up, his behavior certainly wouldn't do..."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The next morning, Caine eagerly woke everyone up, including Pomni. They all quickly gathered to the main stage, ready for whatever nonsense Caine had to give them today.

☆Good morning, Superstars!! Now, you are all aware that I have some very important news today!!☆

•Yeah, yeah, we get it. What's soooooo important dentures?•

☆I'm glad you asked, Jax!! As you may have noticed, the graphics look much more polished now!☆

Everyone collectively looked around. He was right. The circus did look more high-quality.

◇Yeah, and?◇

☆As you are also aware, this place is usually inactive. BUT, I've noticed more of these enhancements, AND, some developers' notes! (Which I haven't found in a while actually) Seems like the game is finally being published!☆

The crew were confused for a moment, but then it hit them. How could they forget this was a kids' game? This place was about to get a lot more crowded... with children nonetheless! They could barely survive this place, let alone could kids!!

This was not good...

♧Uhh, exactly how much time do we have before the game launches..?♧

☆Probably within the next couple of days. So, we should have a little bit of time to-☆

The group was interrupted by a loud "Thud," followed by glitching noises coming from the hallway.

☆... I... I'm gonna go investigate. Pomni, mind if I pull you aside for a second?☆

The Noises in the Distance didn't sound like any normal code bug... but what choice did she have.

They followed the glitching sounds to the hallway entrance, Pomni jumped slightly when Caine suddenly froze to a stop.

☆...Bubble?☆

At the end of the hallway stood Bubble, only larger and heavily corrupted, covered in glitches and code. He kept biting chunks of code from the wall, making him increase in size.

☆My, how did this happen??☆

Bubble didn't reply and continued eating away at the code.

☆Uhm, hello??☆

♧CAINE I DONT THINK NOW IS THE TIME TO ASK QUESTIONS...♧

☆Ah, of course! Now... let's fix this up!!☆

Caine snapped his fingers to no success.

☆Okay, Pomni, any ideas?☆

♧Me? Uhm...♧

She noticed an odd looking piece of code in the center of Bubble's corruption

♧K-keep him distracted! I think I have an idea!♧

Caine followed orders, snapping the walls fixed, making Bubble eat them again, and then He'd fix them again, so on so fourth.

As He kept Bubble Occupied, Pomni snuck behind Bubble and Snagged the strange line of code. Bubble slowly returned to normal size but remained slightly glitchy and corrupted.

♧Got it!!♧

She held it up for Caine to see.

☆Hold on a second... are you sure that's what caused it??☆

♧Well, yeah, I-♧

Caine cut her off, sounding almost confused.

☆That's... That's his central code... he's always had that...☆

Pomni thought for a moment... "That's weird... it looked an awful lot like a virus code..."

☆Well, now what??☆

Pomni stood in silence for a second... she wasn't sure how Caine would take this. But they didn't have much choice.

♧Looks like you're gonna have to pop him one last time...♧

Caine slowly reached his index finger towards Bubble.

"Pop!"

The glitching stopped. And the stray peices of code faded away.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

•Man, where on earth are those two?!•

◆Hey, I'm pretty sure it takes em a while to fix things◆

•Well yeah, but it definitely shouldn't take more than 20 minutes! I'm outta here.•

◇Honestly, this is the one time I agree with you.◇

Just as the crew were about to go back to their rooms, Caine and Pomni made their return.

♧Heheh... we're back...♧

☆Apologies for that, superstars...☆

•Well it's about time!! What happened back there??•

The pair stood in silence for a long time...

☆So... Bubble is dead.☆

A few of the cast simultaneously gasped, visibly confused, and surprised.

♧L-let me explain. Turns out Bubble... was a virus. He was eating the place inside-out, so we kinda sorta had to...♧

•Eh, whatever. I never liked the guy anyway! He was pretty annoying. Good on you two.•

The others collectively chattered to eatch other.

☆Well, now that that's out of the way... that's really all I have for you. You're all free to go. I have plenty of work to do!☆

The cast all started towards the hallway to their rooms, as usual. Pomni began to follow them when Caine stopped her.

☆Pomni... I have one more favor I need from you.☆

♧Hm?♧

Caine seemed strangley less energetic.

☆I know this is on rather short notice, but... with my- lack of an assistant... I was thinking...☆

He snapped his fingers, and in front of Pomni was a new string of code

☆How would you like a promotion??☆

♧...as what??♧

She examined the jumble of numbers in front of her.

☆As my Co-host!!☆

♧...Gee, I dunno... I don't think I-♧

☆May I add, being my assistant, has its benefits!! You'd share my capabilities! You'd be able to help fix things full time and help with making future adventures!!☆

She thought about it for a moment... she wouldn't have to go on any adventures. Just make them. Also, this gave her a chance to get closer to Caine. Again, to get answers about the exit...

☆Well..?☆

She looked down at the code again... this could be her chance...

She reached out and touched the Code...

With a quick flash, it suddenly disappeared. Or so she thought at first.

She looked down at herself to see that her model had changed. It was a lot higher in quality. Her Jester hat had decreased in size and wrapped around a larger yellow top hat, similar to Caine's. As well as blue and red stripped leggings and a splitting coat tail. Next to her floated a red and blue striped cane (or more of a wand in size). She looked down at her new features and looked back up at Caine.

☆How do you feel?☆

♧... Well, it definitely does look nice.♧

☆Now that's the spirit!!☆

Caine beamed at his new assistant. He then looked down at his own model.

☆Heh, suppose I need an upgrade too!☆

With a snap of his fingers, his model was also polished. Brighter, bolder colors, and star embroidery on his hat and the back of his coat.

☆Well, we've got the looks right! Now, let's get to work kn adventures!! Any suggestions??☆

♧Hm... Maybe we can start making them a little more... mundane...♧

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Holy moly this was waaaaaaaay longer than chapter one-

This was alot-

I feel like crap rn-

Uhh, yeah, you know the drill. Ask Caine Pomni and Voz, ask me maybe, check out my main acc [ @dayseedrawz2 ]

Buh bye chat

[mandos-mind-trick]

The Phantom of Pabu - Part 1

Summary: After being rescued from the Empire, Crosshair spends his days miserably existing on Pabu. Haunted by the past, he's slowly drowning in his thoughts, until he spots you. You pique his interest from the start, a person who might just be more broken than he is.

Pairing: Crosshair x reader

Warnings: Angst, PTSD, suicide attempt, alcohol abuse, nightmares, sleep deprivation and its side effects, stalking-like behaviors, depression, descriptions of war and its aftermath, sleepwalking, brief mention of slavery, brief allusion to trafficking, trauma bonding, possessive and protective Crosshair, a bit of a savior complex

A/N: This is so different from anything I've written before, in a different style than I usually write. It evolved into something way more than it was supposed to be, and honestly I'm a little scared to share it. It's a testament of where my mind has been these last few weeks and really just a lot of feelings and emotions pouring out onto the page. Please heed the warnings as this is a pretty heavy story, especially this part in particular.

Next > | MASTERLIST

(Gif found on Google since Tumblr's gif search sucks)

At least they managed to settle somewhere warm. 

Crosshair is grateful for that one thing as he reclines on a bench, shielded from the unrelenting sun by a tree. The island is hot today, drawing his brothers to the beach in an attempt to stay cool. As uncomfortable as it is, it is much preferable to somewhere cold. 

He hates the cold. 

The beach bustles with the sound of the inhabitants of the island, all of them seeking the cool water in relief from the heat of the day. It’s loud, sights and sounds threatening to overwhelm him. He hasn’t been here long, not long enough to feel comfortable with the freedom he’s been allotted. 

No one knows.

No one cares. 

He knows. He cares. He can’t forget. 

He might have left, he might have suffered in the heat in favor of somewhere quiet had he not had somewhere to focus his attention. A distraction from the screaming of children, the endless movement of the crowd on the beach. 

It hadn’t taken him long to spot his distraction, the grounding scene to keep him from losing his mind. You’re seated in the sand, as far from the crowd as you can be. Your shoes are off, placed neatly beside you. Your legs are pulled against your chest, your arms wrapped around them as you stare out at the cerulean water. 

You haven’t been on Pabu long. He’d glimpsed you during your arrival with a few others, quickly lost in the crowd he was trying to avoid. Hunter had dragged him along, repeating the endless mantra that socialization is good for him. 

Crosshair disagrees. 

Hunter was persistent in forcing him into social situations, knowing well Crosshair would simply observe and refuse to participate. He preferred watching from a distance, becoming nothing more than a figure in the shadows. He knows the corners of Pabu well; that was where he made himself at home. 

You have made this outing less unbearable, at least. 

You’ve hardly moved since he spotted you, shifting only slightly to alleviate an ache in your joints. You don’t seem bothered by the sun or the heat, your skin glowing under the bright radiance from above. 

Crosshair wonders what you’re thinking about. He rolls his toothpick between his lips, mind wandering as he considers you. He refuses to believe your head is empty as you stare out at the horizon. You’re far too fascinating to be reduced to a brainless shell. He had never been one to consider the thoughts of others, but staring at you has made him curious. 

Not curious enough to approach, not curious enough to ask. 

Curious enough to disregard the crowd and its maddening dissonance. He’s always alert, always ready, but your mysterious presence is enough to quiet the ruckus to a bearable level. 

He gazes at you as the sun tracks a path across the sky, the crowd beginning to thin as evening settles in, turning the sky shades of orange and pink. You remain sitting there, still as a statue, when Hunter calls his name. He’s almost hesitant to leave, hesitant to walk away before you do. For a moment, the absurd idea passes through his mind that you might actually be a statue, but he knows that’s not true. He’d seen the small movements as you adjusted yourself, the small flinch as two children got too close to you while playing. 

You’re still there as he rises, turning his back to you as he leaves his bench. His curiosity has been piqued. 

Perhaps this place isn’t so unbearable after all. 

***

You’ve invaded his thoughts, controlling his mind even as he sits alone in his room. He’d memorized every small detail of your being that day; you’ve been plaguing him since. He doesn’t know your name, he doesn’t know where you live. He doesn’t know a single thing about you, other than when you’d arrived on this island refuge, disappearing into the crowd of welcoming inhabitants like a phantom. 

He’s become existential in his thoughts. Are you even real? Are you a figment of his imagination as he fights the guilt and shame threatening to devour him every time he gets even just a brief moment of reprieve? 

He needs to see you again, even if just to prove you’re more than a figment of his imagination. 

A ghost sent to haunt him for his sins. 

Maybe Hunter is right. Maybe he has been alone for too long. 

He can’t stand the considerate, generous, welcoming inhabitants of the island. He doesn’t deserve such kindness, such compassion after the things he’s done. If they knew the blood that stained his hands, the oppression he’d doled out simply because that’s what good soldiers do, they wouldn’t be so amiable. 

He’s become almost nocturnal to avoid them. 

Sleep evades him, and when exhaustion overcomes him, the nightmares begin. His brothers are gracious enough not to mention it, but he can see it. The worry, the concern in their gazes as he blearily stumbles out the door, choking on smoke and frigid air and rain. Endless rain. 

Muscles tense and tight from the frozen air, clothes soaked through, half delirious from the cold and hunger. He’s weak, barely able to get his legs under him as he races for the door, desperate to escape, desperate to forget. 

He walks in the warm air, when the sky is black and dotted with stars, when the world is quiet and asleep. No one around to try and engage him in conversation, no one to give him pity-filled looks as he passes. No one to ask after him, the disgusting shine of sympathy in their gaze. The few who pass on rare occasions don’t look at him, avoiding his gaze fearfully as if he’s some wraith slinking through the blackness ready to feast on the unfortunate soul who looks him in the eye. 

A ghost haunting the island, lost and wandering for all eternity until the ocean washes away the last remains of the rock where the city stands. 

His hands are still trembling, clenched into fists at his sides when you appear out of the darkness like a phantom. You’re ahead of him, far enough you haven’t noticed him yet. Even his enhanced vision has trouble making you out, but it’s you unmistakably. 

Dressed in black, whether it’s on purpose or simply chance, you blend into the shadows of the night, slipping in and out of the light at each doorstep. You truly appear like a ghost, steps slow enough to make you seem as if you’re floating. You’re barefoot, nearly silent as you slip through the darkness. 

Crosshair follows, encaptured by your mysterious presence. His mind draws forth the stories Omega had heard from Phee and recounted to them. Stories of seafarers seeing ghosts in the waves on stormy nights, sailors hearing the voices of women calling out to them, drawing them into the waves to be lost forever. 

You walk the streets, nearly making one full circle around the island before you stop, freezing in the spot between lights. Crosshair blinks as he comes to a stop, as if he’s suddenly waking from a dream. He’s closer than he wanted to be, three houses separating the space between you.

You suddenly turn, his body stilling in the darkness. Can you see him? Had he made a sound in his distraction and alerted you to his presence?  

There’s fear in your eyes. Your shoulders lift, squaring as you tense, almost like you’re preparing for a fight. Hands balled into fists, your chest heaves as you glance around, almost as if you don’t realize where you are. You take half a step back, eyes glancing over him but there’s no sign of recognition, no realization that he’s there. 

You’re running. He’s half tempted to follow, half tempted to finally learn where you live, if only so he can remind himself you are, in fact, real. He stays planted where he is, watching your retreating form meld into the darkness until you’ve disappeared from his sight. 

He stays where he is, playing over the scene in his mind. Did you notice him somehow? If he had been the cause of your fearful reaction, you hadn’t confronted him. Perhaps you felt his stare, some primal instinct recognizing something was behind you, something was following you in the dark. 

Whatever had happened, it startled you. He likens you to a wild animal, feeling a bit like the predator that had been stalking his prey. You were easy prey. 

It would have been so effortless. 

He’s shaking by the time he returns to the house, the stars beginning to disappear as morning arrives. He slips into bed, drawing the covers over his head as though he can hide from his very thoughts. 

***

The next time he sees you, it’s during the day. 

You had been absent from his nightly walks, his eyes tracing every inch of the darkness he could see, waiting for your form to appear like a ghostly apparition. You had been missing, however. Perhaps he startled you more than he first imagined. 

You appear at one of Shep’s parties, towed in behind Phee rather reluctantly. He’s in his corner, surveying the party from a distance like he preferred. Most left him alone, having learned he was a bore in conversation and those who hadn’t realized it had felt the bite of his words. Hunter had scolded him like a naughty child, but if it kept them away, he would face the reprimanding of his abrasive nature. 

His interest is piqued when you appear, looking like the phantom he pictured you as. The glow that your skin had radiated under the sun is gone. You’re pallored and gaunt, even in the orange glow of the setting sun, looking every bit like the ghouls in the stories Omega enjoyed so much. The wispy blue dress that hung from your form was no help, limp strands of hair rustling in the breeze off the sea. Your eyes are swollen and dark as they pass over the party, eventually meeting his. 

He should draw his gaze away and pretend he was simply doing the same, observing the milling party-goers. Yet he can’t seem to draw his gaze from you, locked in under your stare. There’s no recognition there, no sign you had seen him that night, no threat you were going to make a scene, expose him for following you for an hour as you wandered around in the middle of the night. 

You break first, drawn away as Phee introduces you to Tech. You look displeased to be forced into conversation, Tech oblivious to your dismay as he prattles off some senseless facts about something Phee had said. At least with Tech, you could avoid having to partake in the conversation. He could talk enough for everyone involved. 

He continues to watch you through dinner. You’re seated across the table and two seats down from him. The tenseness in your body speaking to your discomfort has not lessened any. You’re still again, aside from the slow lift and lower of the fork in your hand. You avoid everyone’s gaze, as if trying to ward away any attention that may be brought upon you. 

You luck out, most of the guests seem to forget you’re even there. Crosshair doesn’t; his gaze is coaxed back to you constantly throughout the evening. He can’t look away, feeling as if he’s watching a tragedy unfold in front of him. 

He’s witnessed enough of those.

None have affected him like this. 

You disappear before dark, slipping away without a sound. No one seems to notice. No one but Crosshair. He casts a glance over the throng before he slips away, catching up to you. He stays a good distance behind you, not wanting to reveal himself yet. He’s reminded of that night he followed you, except he doesn’t have darkness to use to his advantage. 

You look no less like a phantom in the red light of sunset. If anything, it makes you look more like a ghost. A ghoul painted in bloody light, a visage of pain and suffering. 

He’s lost in his thoughts once more as he follows you, distracted by your haunting image. His heel drags across the stone, loud in the quiet peacefulness of the evening. You pause upon hearing the sound, shoulders squaring once more. 

He moves instinctually, dipping behind a wall as you turn on your heel, eyes scanning the street behind you. It wouldn’t be unreasonable for someone to be following you at this hour, even if they only happened to be going the same direction as you. Yet, your reaction says differently. Had you been lost in your thoughts as well, distracted by whatever raced through your mind?

“I know you’re there.” You say, voice low and soft. He’s never heard you speak before. Your voice is just as haunting as he imagined. There’s no accusation in your tone. It’s not a shout to draw attention. “You’ve been following me.” 

He stays behind the wall, fighting the war within himself. He should stay hidden, he should keep himself at a distance. If he reveals himself, you may realize he had been there that night. What answer would he give if you asked why? He hadn’t meant to follow you, at least not for so long. You had lured him behind you like a fish caught on a line. 

Would you run again if he spoke the truth? Despite his dislike of practically everyone, you’ve caught his attention in a way he’s not sure he wants to lose. It frightens him, and it worries him all at once. He needs no one. He’s happy in solitude. 

That’s not true, is it. 

He slowly steps out from behind the wall, keeping a safe distance from you. Your eyes widen a bit, as if you had been doubting yourself, as if it would be the same as the night he followed you. Had you thought you were going mad? 

You shift your weight as he reveals himself, the tenseness of your shoulders not easing any. Why should it? He’s a stranger to you. You’ve never spoken before now. He’s not even sure if you’ve seen him before tonight. You had caught him staring upon your arrival. Would you assume he’s been the culprit the entire time? 

“You left the party early.” He says, trying to come up with an explanation before you can ask. You may not take to the truth as openly as he could hope. 

You shift again, hands curling around the wispy edges of your dress. “I don’t like parties.” You say it with such bluntness he can’t help the smirk that lifts his lips. 

“I don’t either.” He says. “Too many people.” 

“Too much noise.” You say, nodding in agreement. “You’re...one of Tech’s brothers.” He gives you a questioning glance. You seem to know of him, despite this being the first time you’ve spoken. “Phee likes to talk about Tech.” You quickly explain.

Of course. You had arrived at the party with Phee, meaning she had likely invaded your life as much as she invaded his brothers’. She and Tech were very much infatuated. While he’s not heartless enough not to feel happy for his brother, Phee’s personality was grating to his introverted nature. Omega likes her too, and so she spends ample time with them. 

It appears she has gotten to you as well. 

“The name’s Crosshair.” He says, slipping a toothpick into his mouth. 

You tell him your name, his mind replaying it over and over to commit it to memory. It wasn’t likely he’d forget, but he doesn’t want to run the risk. 

“Are you going the same way?” You ask, taking half a step backwards. You’re anxious to get home. He can tell by your body language. You want to get there before others start leaving the party. “You could walk with me. I promise I won’t talk your ear off. I could not talk at all, if that’s what you prefer.” 

“I’m not one for talking.” He says, his body already moving forward. He’s not entirely sure if you’re even going in the same direction he is, but he’s not going to complain. 

A smile tugs at your lips as you fall in step beside him. “I was raised in a culture where you don’t speak unless you have something meaningful to say.”

“Sounds like an ideal place.” He says. 

“It was, until it was wiped out by the war.” You respond.

So that was it. The war had been what ultimately led you here. He doesn’t press any further. He can tell you don’t want to speak more on the subject. Instead he falls into silence as he walks with you, letting you lead the way to your tiny hovel. 

It’s not far from where you stopped that night he followed you. 

“This is me.” You say, stepping up onto the small porch. “Thank you for walking with me. Solitude is nice, but sometimes silent company is better.” 

Wise words. You may be right in that regard. He didn’t hate walking with you, and he certainly didn’t regret his decision. The silence had felt natural, not forced like the time he spent with those who believed conversation was necessary and silence was some form of disease. 

Perhaps he was capable of enjoying others' company after all. 

***

Despite your formal introduction, Crosshair finds little time to interact with you alone. The next time he sees you after the party is in passing. 

Phee is the one that draws the attention to you, having spotted you leaving the beach as they were arriving. You don’t seem to have settled well into your new life. The dark, puffy circles under your eyes have worsened, and it seems you only continue to liken the ghost he once thought you were. 

You were doing more than sitting this time. Your pants are damp almost to the knees, sand sticking to the fabric. Despite your time in the sun, there’s still a pallor to your skin, making you seem almost sickly in the bright sunlight. 

He’s not the only one who’s noticed. 

“Are you feeling alright, sweetcheeks?” Phee asks, pressing a hand to your forehead. 

He watches the squaring of your shoulders, the subtle twitch of your muscles as her hand makes contact with your skin. You’re ready to flinch away, bracing yourself for whatever horrid thought passed through your mind as her hand lifted towards you. Perhaps you may have even tried to duck, had social convention not frowned upon such extreme reactions. It would have brought up questions, questions he knows you are desperately trying to avoid.

Instead you freeze, staying far too still as Phee feels your forehead. Reacting strangely would only heighten her concern. Brushing her off will save you at least this time, though she will be paying closer attention to you now. Perhaps the more extreme reaction would have been the better choice.

“I’m still trying to settle into a new place. That’s always been hard for me.” You speak slowly, and though it might only be a half truth, he can tell it’s worked. 

Phee lets her hand drop back to her side. “Well, if you ever need anything, don’t hesitate to ask. I mean it. Anything at all.” 

You nod slowly, something flashing across your gaze too fast for even him to decipher it. “Right. I-I will.” You begin to step away slowly, almost as if you were waiting for someone to stop you. “I’m going to go rest now.” 

You turn without waiting for a reply, hastily retreating up the path from the beach back onto the streets of Pabu. Crosshair is half tempted to follow you, to slip away from the others, but Omega takes hold of his hand, leading him out into the sand. He allows it, having more patience for the kid than anyone else. 

The increase in interactions with you has only heightened his curiosity. Even now that he’s heard you speak and knows your name, you’re still a phantom in his mind. You appear so hollow, so empty and yet he knows the depths inside your soul are so vast the entire ocean could fill them and still not reach the top. You seem to float past those around you, even the very air seeming to cut right through you. 

You appear so fragile, and yet the walls around you are so steep, even the most experienced climber would shake their head in prospect of climbing them. 

Curiosity would not be enough for him to wish to climb those walls, to see what devastation lies on the other side. Curiosity is not a strong enough word to drive him to seek you out, to yearn for your voice, your story, your very being. 

He wants to see the devastation inside you because he knows it is a mirror of his own. 

Only you could understand him in the way he yearns for. His brothers try, but they can’t know, they can’t possibly understand him. Not in the way he needs. No amount of sympathetic looks and words could possibly begin to chip away at the thick walls that protect him.

He wants to tear down your walls, he wants to see your ugly insides, if only to vindicate the ugliness that resides behind his carefully crafted exterior. You are not so good at hiding it, at least not to those who know. Crosshair knows you will shatter eventually, just as he did. 

He’d had his brothers to catch him. 

Who do you have?

***

Crosshair sees little of you over the next few weeks. He catches glimpses in passing, often being herded somewhere by Hunter or Omega. You simply seem to exist, floating past the crowd, or sitting on your porch with a cup of caf. You don’t look any better than you had before, still pallored and gaunt, all the life seeming to have been sapped from your body. 

He finds himself pausing his nightly walks in front of your small house. He hasn’t seen you walking since that night, but occasionally he spots movement in the windows of your hovel, shadows moving in the light through the curtains. 

The most he sees of you is in passing on the landing pad on their way to do a supply run. You were speaking with Phee, pushing a bag of credits into her hands. He could see the desperation in your eyes, practically pleading with her.

Whatever it is you wanted, you were desperate to get it. 

It plagued his mind the entire trip. What could you be so desperate to get? A relic from your home world? Something from your past to bring back fond memories before war stole everything from you? Or perhaps something else. It could be anything. 

It could be anyone. 

The thought stirs something inside of him, something that makes him feel sick. It burns through his veins, heating his skin. He pushes the thought aside, hating how it makes him feel. 

You disappear once more after your discussion with Phee, fulfilling your role as the ghost in his life. He continues his walks, pausing in front of your home but you never grace him with your presence, even unknowingly. 

It’s a week later when he finally sees you once more. 

It’s late. The moon is full, bathing the island in cool light. There’s not many places to hide tonight, not many shadows to conceal him, yet he hadn’t been able to shake the need to walk. His mind had been restless, and the images behind his eyes when he closed them were too much to bear so he slipped from the house, stalking along the quiet streets. 

He passes your house, pausing in his usual spot. His brow furrows as he takes in the scene in front of him. 

Your front door is wide open, the lights on inside. He pauses there for a moment, waiting for any sign you may be moving around in there, but it’s quiet. Still. Your shoes are on the porch, haphazardly laying with the toes facing the street, like you had left with them on, then decided against it and tossed them back onto the porch. 

Either that, or you had left in a hurry. He scans the area but there’s no sign of you, his stomach twisting nervously. He’s not sure why. The scene in front of him has put him on edge. For someone so closed off, leaving your door open was not what he would have expected. Even if you had ventured for a short walk, leaving your private space wide open for anyone to see was out of character. 

He continues his walk, more alert than he had been. He moves slowly, waiting for a sound, a sign, anything that may lead him to you. 

It doesn’t take him long. 

He spots you first, stumbling lazily down the street. He can hear you mumbling as he gets closer, cursing with slurred words. There’s a bottle in your hand, glowing faint blue in the light of the moon. 

You’re drunk, a nearly empty bottle of spotchka clutched in your hand. So that was what you had sent Phee after. 

He wonders if that’s the only bottle you’ve had tonight. 

He debates the best course of action. You may react if he startles you, possibly waking the neighbors. He does not want to have to face them, to try and explain. He knows it’ll only bring more unwanted attention to you as well. They’ll want to help, they’ll check on you, they’ll worry about you. 

You’d hate him forever. 

You freeze in your stumbling walk, his body stopping as well. He’s pulled into the memories of that first night he followed you. There’s nowhere to hide tonight, though if you spot him on your own perhaps your reaction will be more desirable. You slowly turn, swaying a bit on your feet like you’re trying to stand in a stiff breeze. You squint at him, mouth hanging open as you take him in. He wonders what it is you see. Can you even recognize him in this state? Or is he a shadow, a ghostly figure your alcohol-riddled mind is trying to piece together. 

He says your name quietly, your eyes widening as they focus on him. He steps closer, moving slowly, carefully. You’re unpredictable in this state. He pauses just past an arm distance away, worried about getting too close. You might run again.

“Crosshair!” You shout, bringing the bottle to your lips, draining the rest. “What’re ya doin out so late?” 

He can smell the alcohol on you at this proximity, the scent burning his nose. You look a mess, beyond just your drunken demeanor. Dark, swollen circles rim your red eyes, your clothes wrinkled and worn like you haven’t changed them in a few days. Strands of hair stick to your sweaty forehead, your face looking sunken and gaunt. Your feet are bare again, though whether that was a conscious choice or a consequence of your inebriation, he’s unsure. The haphazardly placed shoes suddenly make sense. 

“You’re drunk.” He says, looking you over. You don’t seem hurt, not physically at least. 

You sniffle, staring at the empty bottle in your hand. “Guess I am.” 

You throw the bottle with a force he didn’t know you were capable of, the glass shattering loudly on the stone street. You stumble backwards from the force of your throw.

“It’s fucking stupid.” You say, wheeling away from him. “Those motherfuckers took everything from me!” You brace your hands on the wall overhanging the cliff. You push yourself up, kneeling on the edge. It’s a long drop to the houses below. The fall might kill you, if you landed wrong. 

He suddenly feels nervous. Would you jump? He wouldn’t have pitted you for someone who would do such a thing sober. You’re not sober, though. You’re not in your right mind. 

“They’re coming back.” You whisper, staring down at the moonlit city below. 

“Who’s coming back?” He asks, watching you carefully. He can’t imagine anyone on the island so much as threatening you, much less attempting anything uncouth. 

“They’re coming. They’re coming.” You’re starting to get frantic. Whatever it is you think you’re seeing, it’s driving you mad. “We have to go before they get here. We have to go!” 

He moves purely on instinct. His years of training have saved many lives before, but none of them felt like this. 

His arm is around your middle before your knees leave the ledge, body falling forward into his arm. He uses his weight to pull you backwards, turning mid-fall so he takes the brunt of it, his back hitting the stone street. You fall on top of him, stunned long enough for him to secure his hold around you. 

His heart is pounding in his chest, adrenaline coursing through him. He holds you tightly, half to keep you restrained and half for his brain to process that he did catch you, he did make it in time. You’re still here, you’re secure in his arms. 

He hasn’t felt this way in a while. 

He hasn’t felt this way since Barton IV, since the avalanche, since he had to keep Mayday and himself alive through a blizzard only to watch him die. He had lost Mayday after trying everything he could to save him. He feels like he didn’t do enough. He feels responsible. 

He won’t let the same thing happen to you. 

You scream, the sound muffled by his shirt as he forces your face against his chest. You try to fight him, but all the strength with which you threw the bottle is gone. You’re no match for him. Not in this state. He sits himself up, keeping you restrained against his body. 

“They’re coming back.” You sob against his chest, beginning to hyperventilate. “They’re coming back, we have to go!” You continue to struggle, but your fight is waning, getting weaker and weaker. “We have to go before they come back!” 

“Stop.” He grabs your face, pulling you away from his chest enough that you can see him. Tears and snot slide down your skin, wetting his fingers. You’re sobbing, breaths hitching as your body tries to regulate itself. “Stop.” He shakes you, nothing more than an attempt to snap you out of this delusion. “No one is coming.” 

You stare up at him with those haunted eyes, the moonlight making the dark circles under them seem more intense. “I can’t sleep.” You whisper, shockingly alert compared to what he had just seen. He can feel you folding, your body getting heavier until it’s only his grip on you holding you up. “Maybe if I get drunk enough, I’ll pass out before I remember.” 

He lets you fall limp against his chest, keeping his arms locked around you to prevent you from trying something stupid again. His heart is still racing, the adrenaline making his hands shake. He had been designed for extreme stress. He had been designed to run straight into battle and not bat an eye. 

The thought of losing you so easily has rattled him. 

He needs to get you back home, somewhere he can keep a closer eye on you until you inevitably pass out from the alcohol in your system. He shifts you in his arms, pushing himself to stand. You’re light, far too light. He wonders if you’ve been eating, or if your sleep deprivation has taken over your entire life. Tech had spewed the detriments of sleep deprivation several times during the course of the war. They were designed to go without sleep for extended periods, but even they were not immune. They would begin to degrade to the point of delusion, and death would follow soon after. 

He wonders how long it’s been, how long you’ve suffered without sleep. 

You truly are a ghost. 

It’s a surprise the inhabitants of the nearby houses haven’t been roused by the commotion. Or perhaps it’s just luck. The last thing he needed was someone else making this worse in an attempt to help. He has you under control now. If someone were to intervene, he’s unsure of how you would react.  

He carries you back to your house, the door still open and the lights still on. It feels strange, invading your space. He feels as if he’s breaking some unspoken rule, infringing upon a sacred space as he steps in the door. 

It’s a mess. Clothes and blankets are strewn around the small living area. Dirty dishes sit like landmines, half eaten food spread across the stone floor. How long it’s been there, he’s not sure he wants to know. He follows the trail into the bedroom, that space not much better off. Clothes everywhere, full and empty bottles of alcohol on the floor, the bed stripped completely of sheets and blankets. 

He can’t let you stay here like this. 

He finds the ‘fresher, stepping inside. It’s at least cleaner than he expected, damp clothes and towels piled on the floor, used containers of shampoo and soap littering the sink. He clears a spot, swiping the containers onto the floor. He sits you on the counter, your eyes closed. For a moment he thinks you might have passed out, but you crack your eyes open, staring at him. 

He leans you back against the mirror, making sure you’re steady as he digs to find a clean rag. He finds a semi-clean one, running it under the cold water before gently wiping down your face. He cleans every inch of exposed skin, checking the bottoms of your feet. Dirty, but thankfully uninjured. 

He can’t leave you here. It’s too risky. Not that he’d want to leave you in this mess anyway. He sighs through his nose, staring at your half asleep form. You’ll hate him, but he has no other choice. He can’t risk it. 

He can’t risk you. 

He picks you back up, carrying you out of the ‘fresher. Something shatters under his boot as he crosses the living room, but he’s too focused to care. He leaves your house, grabbing your shoes before making the short journey back up the hill to his own home.

It’s dark and quiet inside, just as he’d left it. His steps are near silent as he heads back to his room, his own small sacred space. He lays you on the bed, your body curling in on itself as soon as it hits the mattress, as if you’re trying to revert to some early form, back when the world was safe, when you were unable to comprehend the horrors that were soon to cross your path. 

You’re asleep, or past the point of being able to control your own body as you take little notice of anything around you. He tucks the blanket around your shoulders. The stench of alcohol is going to sink into his sheets, permeate the air in his room. He can wash them later. 

He settles himself on the floor at the end of the bed, leaning against the door. You’d have to move him to get out. Even with the exhaustion settling into his mind, the likelihood of you slipping out unnoticed is very small. Hunter already knows someone else is in the house, and if by some chance he doesn’t, he’d know as soon as he heard your footsteps. 

The likelihood you’ll remember any of the events from tonight are slim. You’re far too drunk. He’ll have to come up with something, a reason for bringing you here. 

He’ll worry about that when the time comes. 

You’re going to be angry when you wake, but if it keeps you safe, he’ll face your wrath happily.

***

Crosshair’s pulled from sleep, straightening up from where he’d been leaning to the side as you groan quietly. He blinks the sleep from his eyes, stretching out his legs. His joints pop uncomfortably, forced into one position for too long. He glances at the bed, watching the lump under the blankets shift. Your arm lifts above the blanket, rubbing across your forehead as you groan once more. He can imagine the severity of the hangover pulsing behind your eyes. 

He pushes himself to stand, approaching the bed slowly. You blink blearily up at him, squinting slightly as if you’re trying to see him better. Your sleep-addled brain is still trying to focus, trying to process everything you’re seeing. The chronometer on the wall tells him you haven’t been asleep longer than a couple hours, and it’s entirely likely you’re still a bit drunk. 

You slowly push yourself up to sit, glancing around the room, looking anywhere but at him. He can practically see the shame burning on your face. “I’m sorry you had to see me like that.” Your voice is rough with sleep or drink, or perhaps both. “It was stupid of me to think alcohol would solve my problems.” Your gaze drops to your hands like a guilty child waiting to be reprimanded. “You shouldn’t have had to go out of your way to help me.” 

So you do remember. It takes him by surprise. Some parts, perhaps, he thought you might remember, hazily at most. 

“I don’t want to die.” You say, taking his silence as an invitation to continue. “But can you really call this living?” 

He narrows his eyes at your words. You are right. He can see the suffering in your very existence. The exhaustion that plagues you endlessly, that makes you the phantom he sees you as. 

“I-I should get home.” You swing your legs over the bed but he grabs your arm before you can move too far. 

You feel so frail under his touch, and he’s afraid you’ll crumble like a stone statue if he squeezes too hard. “Don’t.” He says, your body pinned in place by the harshness of his gaze. He releases your arm, turning to grab clean clothes from his dresser. He tosses them to you, your body barely reacting in time to catch them. “Clean yourself up, then have something to eat before you go.”

You blink at him for a moment, hand clutching the clothes he’d tossed at you to your chest where you’d caught them. Your head turns slightly towards the door as the sound of the others moving around in the kitchen draws your attention. You had been introduced to them by Phee, so they weren’t entirely unknown to you. They knew very little about you, though, and certainly wouldn’t be expecting you to be here. 

“‘Fresher’s down the hall.” He says.

You stand on shaky legs, your eyes pinching shut as your hangover makes itself known once more. He’s worried for half a moment you may collapse, his body ready to catch you. You let out a long breath before you’re moving, stepping out the door. He waits until you’re gone before he’s changing, ridding himself of his alcohol-saturated clothes. He leaves his room, stepping into the living area. 

All eyes are focused on him instantly. He’s immune to it now after years, and there’s no desire for him to react, not in this safe space. Not when it’s his squad. His brothers. They’re all wondering, they all want to know. Phee rarely spent the night here. Tech was more likely to be absent from their morning routine than to have it disrupted by the appearance of someone from the outside. For him to have brought someone in, have them here in the morning...he’s the one breaking routine. 

Crosshair pours himself a cup of caf, Hunter staring at him from across the kitchen. Crosshair meets his gaze unwaveringly, giving him a telling look. He’ll explain later. He doesn’t want them to know while you’re still here. The last thing you need is for them to make a deal of it, to cause a scene, to give you those ridiculous pitiful looks, to shower you in sympathy. He knows the wrong kind of attention could drive you back to the place you were last night. 

He can’t risk that. 

You emerge from the ‘fresher nearly half an hour later. Crosshair knows much of that time had to be you working up the bravery to come out and face his brothers. Your hair is damp, cleaner than he’s seen it in a while. You’re swimming in his clothes, making you seem even more fragile than you already appeared. 

They’re all staring at you, and he can see the heistance, the nervousness of having all the attention on you. You step up next to him, standing close enough you could duck behind him if you felt the need. He’s surprised you aren’t hiding behind him, facing his brothers bravely. 

Omega is the first to greet you, breaking the silence. She greets you by name, despite the limited interactions she’s had with you. She’s always so perceptive, remembering names and details from conversations and interactions that even Crosshair missed. 

"You're welcome to stay for breakfast." Hunter says. "If you'd like."

"That would be nice, thank you." You say, Crosshair noticing the waver in your voice. Hunter likely did as well, but he draws no attention to it. 

Not that he would. 

"Come on, you can watch holovids with me while we wait." Omega says, taking your hand to pull you to the couch. 

And so their normal morning routine was back to normal. Wrecker joins you and Omega on the couch, Echo going back to working on breakfast. Hunter steps closer to Crosshair, giving him a look. 

"She needed help last night." Crosshair says quietly, reading the question on his brother’s face. "It wasn't safe for her to be alone."

Hunter nods slowly in understanding. He'll get the full story later, but for now that's appeased him. He only worried about the safety of his family, not that you posed much of a threat. 

Crosshair sits you next to him at the table as they eat, partially for a sense of comfort and security on your part and also so he could make sure you actually ate something. He doesn’t have to worry much, though. You seem perfectly happy to eat. 

Conversation flows as it usually does around the table. You don’t partake much, not that he really expected you to, but he can tell you’re listening intently. So observant, so aware. Wrecker’s bellowing laugh makes you jump, but Crosshair is the only one that notices. 

“How did you get here?” Omega asks, turning to you as she changes the subject. 

The table falls silent, suddenly all eyes on you. You pause in your chewing, hand closing around your fork just a little tighter. He can practically see your thoughts racing, the nervous tension beginning to square your shoulders once more. 

“Omega.” Hunter scolds, casting a sideways glance at the girl before turning back to you. “You don’t have to answer that.” 

You swallow the food you had been chewing, obviously not expecting to be given the option. Most people wanted to know, and they asked without hesitation, without considering what they’re asking the other person to relive. 

Crosshair can’t help but be a bit curious too. He’s not a nosy person. He doesn't care about others enough to bother knowing their secrets. The only people he cares about are his brothers, and he’s spent his entire life with them. There wasn’t room for many secrets among them, not even after his return. They knew about his excursions, and they were perceptive enough to decipher his curiosity towards you. Bringing you here likely only answered the question of just how close he’s gotten to you, even if they weren’t aware of the full story. 

They would be. He would tell them. Not to earn you more pity, but in hopes they will share his desire to look after you. 

You, however, he wants to know. He wants to peel back the layers like the skin of a fruit. He wants to know. He wants the answers to why you’re so broken. 

Why you’re so like him. 

He would never force you to share. He knows the pain of having to relive those moments. It’s enough having to see them every time you close your eyes. Having to speak them aloud only feels like a threat, like you may breathe life into them once more. Like they may happen to you all over again. 

“No, that’s alright.” You say, putting your fork down. “No one’s really asked me before. Not that they’ve really had a chance to.” You shrug, the corner of your lips almost lifting into a smile but it drops from your face as quickly as it appears. “I, uh, I was from Devoth.” 

Wrecker gasps dramatically, Hunter’s face falling in understanding. Crosshair’s chest clenches, things beginning to fall into place. So that was it. Devoth had been one of the worst battles in the last year of the war, no, the entirety of the war. They hadn’t been part of it, but he remembered hearing of it.

“What does that mean?” Omega asks, looking around at the sullen faces at the table. 

“Devoth was a planet in the Muno system located in the inner rim.” Tech says. “It was a mostly peaceful planet under the Republic government. It was used as a mining colony for centuries due to the deposits of rare minerals under the planet’s surface.”

“During the last year of the war, there was a Separatist invasion.” Hunter says, cutting off Tech’s ramble of facts about your home planet. “The battle that took place there was one of the most severe in terms of losses. The Republic won the battle, but it came at the expense of most of the battalion and the planet.” 

Omega looks at you, a horrified look on her face. You’re staring down at your plate, eyelashes fluttering like you’re trying not to cry. Your hand’s closed in a fist where it rests on the table, your entire body wound tightly. 

“Most of the planet’s surface was destroyed.” You finally say, voice wavering just slightly. “I was home alone when it happened, when the Separatists invaded. My parents had gone to the city center that morning. We had no warning. It was just a normal day then suddenly there’s a droid army marching through our neighborhood. They pulled us all out of our homes. Marched us through the streets with blasters at our backs. They were trying to gather us all in one place.” You shrug. “I couldn’t tell you what they were planning to do, but it couldn’t have been worse than what happened.”

“What happened?” Omega asks, everyone at the table leaning closer subconsciously. They had only heard the stories from those few who survived, those who fought. They’d never heard it from the side of someone on the surface. Someone entirely neutral to the war. 

You turn your gaze to Hunter, almost as if you’re asking permission to share the horror of what happened with a child. You won’t give all the details, he knows already. That’s far too intimate for your first real conversation with them. Perhaps you were trying to save Omega from experiencing the same trauma you had. 

“The Republic arrived not long after the Separatists did.” You continue. “As soon as the gunships entered the atmosphere the droids started shooting at the gunships and at civilians. I think they were trying to get the Republic to call off the invasion by executing innocent civilians, but there was so much confusion, it didn’t work.” 

“How did you survive?” Omega asks. 

“Someone grabbed my hand in the confusion.” You say. “I don’t know who she was, but we ran for it. There were underground shelters built out of old mining tunnels all over the city. Devoth was known for sudden, intense storms during the rainy season, so they were built to offer shelter when the storms blew through the city. We made it into one of the shelters with a few others.” You shake your head. “I couldn’t even recognize where we were when we finally came out a couple days later. Everything was gone. It was like a storm blew in and wiped the entire planet clean. There weren’t even bodies left.” You hastily wipe the tear that falls, sniffling. “Sorry.” 

“I’m sorry you lost your home and your family.” Omega says, speaking with such compassion it stirs even Crosshair. “I’m glad you made it. You can be part of our family now.” 

A small smile tugs at your lips, but it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “Thank you. I am lucky that I made it out.” 

Hunter quickly changes the topic of conversation, sensing your distress. He won’t push you to continue, won’t push for more details. They’re capable of understanding the loss that comes with war, and the desire to leave it in the past. Crosshair knows there’s more to the story, however.

The rest of breakfast passes quickly, and despite Omega’s insistence that you stay longer, Crosshair knows you’re tired and overwhelmed. He escorts you from the house, the tension in your shoulders easing just a bit as soon as you’re outside. The streets are busy and bustling already, but you don’t seem as tense walking beside him. 

You almost seem human. 

“That wasn’t the end of the story.” He says as you approach your house, slowing his pace. The Battle of Devoth had happened well over a year ago. A lot can happen in a year. 

“No. It wasn’t.” You say, slowing your pace as well. 

Silence reigns between you until you reach your porch, sinking down onto the steps. He stays standing, hovering over you. He stares at the top of your head as you look out into the street, past the inhabitants milling about their day and out into the distant cerulean ocean. 

“We were in that shelter for almost three days.” You say, tugging at the cuffed hem of your borrowed pants. “The battle happened fast, but we were scared of what we would find above. We had no clue what had happened, who had won. When we finally got out, the planet was unrecognizable. We looked for anything we could find, but it had all been reduced to dust and rubble. There were a few other survivors, others that were lucky and made it into other shelters.” 

He stays quiet, not wanting to give you any reason to stop. He wants to know. He needs to know. It’s like a sick fascination, a need to know just how broken you are. 

“We tried to contact someone, anyone, but none of the comms were working. We all thought we would die there, but the pirates arrived not long after. They were looking for anything they could pilfer but there was nothing but us.” You finally look up at him, tears still sliding down your cheeks. “We didn’t have any choice. What else could we do? Stay there and starve or hope the Republic showed back up to look for survivors? We willingly walked ourselves into slavery.” You sniffle, wiping the tears from your face. 

There’s a pain in his stomach that has grown as he listens to your story. He had never stopped to think of the horrors that the civilians, the citizens of the planets they fought on, faced too. It wasn’t their job. Their job was to fight and try to survive to the next battle. They didn’t think about the homes they destroyed or the lives they upended trying to prevent the droid army from accomplishing the same end. 

He’d done horrible things under the Empire. Worse things. He remembers it all, even when he hadn’t been the one in control. He’d destroyed lives, enslaved others, killed innocent people. All for what? 

“Don’t make me tell you what happened after.” You shake your head, the tears still falling despite your best efforts to wipe them away. 

He doesn’t need to know. He knows enough about the galaxy to be able to guess what happened to you. He’s curious how you made it here, but he won’t push you further than you have been today. You’ve been dragged through enough in the last few hours. He doesn’t want to risk pushing you to repeat what happened last night.

“That’s why I can’t sleep.” You say, staring off out the window. “I can still hear them marching down the street. I close my eyes and they’re kicking in the door, dragging me out into the chaos. I can still hear the ships, the blasters, the bombs. Sometimes I don’t make it. Sometimes I can see my parents. Sometimes I’m back with the pirates. Sometimes I never escaped at all.” 

Understanding washes over him like a wave from the sea. You’re beginning to make sense now. The rapid decline you had been steadily sliding down since your arrival here. Your struggle sleeping, the nightmares both awake and asleep. Crosshair feels the bite of loneliness in his house full of his brothers and Omega, but he’s never truly alone. 

You’re entirely alone. 

You had been alone when your life was destroyed, when everything changed. It was lucky that you survived at all. No matter how many times you were assured you were safe here, you were alone. Being alone was not safe for you. Being alone left you vulnerable to the horrors of your past, left you vulnerable to the horrors that may come through your door when you’re least expecting them. 

He begins to formulate an idea, a plan taking shape in his mind. He won’t leave you to suffer alone. You had already proven you wouldn’t survive that. You don’t have to be alone here, but he’s well aware you won’t willingly accept help. You’re too stubborn for that, too ashamed of your own brokenness. 

He’s not going to give up on you, leave you to suffer a cruel fate that could be avoided. You were so much like him, even if your experiences were different. He understands you, and you have the capacity to understand him. He can help you. He desires to help you. 

Little do you know, you are capable of helping him as well. 

Taglist:

@rosechi @bobaprint @star-trekker-0013 @wolffegirlsunite @jedi-hawkins @sinfulsalutations @freesia-writes @littlemissmanga @clio3kantarella @eris-k @thorsterstrudle @idontgetanysleep @anxiouspineapple99 @clonemedickix @moonlightwarriorqueen @sleepingsun501 @dystopicjumpsuit @wings-and-beskar @blueink-bluesoul @starrylothcat @523rdrebel

[wexhappyxfew]

Hi! I love your Silver Bullets girls, and Carrie x Douglass has a special place in my heart (even more since your last writing with them). So, for them I'd like to ask 35. (kissing their bruises and scars) from the Touch prompt list or 5. (the last thing they're thinking about before falling asleep is always the other) from the Subtle love list. 💗

HI FRIEND!!!! thank you so much for sending this and i am so so glad carrie and dougie have meant a lot, alongside the Silver Bullets girls (it seriously means SO MUCH and i always say it but its true!!!) THANK YOU FOR THE OPTIONS TOO!!!! i couldn't help myself and went with the second prompt (5) and decided to focus on some of their earlier meetings with one another and how they've developed into the people today. let's just say, i had a lot of fun! thank you SO MUCH!!!!! :D this was so much fun! <3 (and sorry for the wait for this....the semester was its usual chaos haha!)

greenland

(a/n): safe to say, for my carrie x dougie enjoyers, this was FUN to write. we get a bit into life before the annie bradshaw era of silver bullets! WITH captain birdie faulkner. BUT, because i am a sucker for someone who haunts the narrative and is simply talked about, we don't actually meet birdie here, just hear about her as a leader and all (a running theme!). we also get a bit into the storyline of what dougie means when he said he wanted to ask carrie to 'dance in greenland in THIS PIECE. and also carrie's dislike for greenland lmfao. please enjoy!!! <3

Greenland was anything but green, it seemed.

Maybe that's why the Vikings called it that - to freak the living fuck out of any sort of enemy that was bound to come this way and make them mistake what was actually a stupid ice block for well - 'green land'.

The landing had been less that superb and Captain Faulkner had dismissed them all to the bar to the left of the tarmac for the rest of the evening off.

Birdie Faulkner was everything, including a realist, and she seemed to understand that the rather harrowing conditions of their landing was something that required at least a drink or two before bedding down for the night.

With a half-finished beer, Carrie was sure that she could've fallen asleep in that very chair for the time being, but she had to present herself a best she could. With the newest B-17 group collected, Silver Bullets was formulated and crafted by that oh-so-brilliant mind of Birdie Faulkner, and they all had her to thank. And Carrie had to look a bit more put-together than usual - prove she's not just a wash-out bombardier with lackluster experience. That she deserved the spot in Silver Bullets more than anyone else.

"So?" a voice came from her right, settling into the other plush, leather seat at her side, the smiling face of Bessie Carlisle appearing as she popped open her own beer bottle, "Greenland, huh?" Carrie smirked and rolled her shoulders and glanced around.

"It's cozy, really," Carrie offered, "I'm considering taking a swim in the river, suntanning-"

"Okay, smart ass," Bessie said with a chuckle, her boot nudging her own foot, "can't say I'm complaining. Finally out of those training cycles, working towards the war. Maybe, we'll actually put ourselves to use instead of waiting just to go on a practice run." Carrie watched Bessie and then smiled widely.

"Love it so much that I may tell my future husband that 'Hey, we're moving to Greenland!', pack up the truck, babe, forget Brooklyn, home is where the grass is a solid as a fucking rock," Carrie said, sipping her beer, "not to mention the weather. I love to freeze."

"Someone's happy." a new voice chimed in, as Francis settled into a chair opposite them, sucking down a portion of her beer and grinning, "I've never seen you so enthusiastic about something." Carrie deadpanned.

"I'm really jumping for joy over here, Monty." Carrie told Francis, raising her glass of beer up in mock ceremony, "You know me so well." Francis and Bessie burst out into laughter as Carrie leaned back in her chair with a sigh and looked towards the ceiling.

"When the hell are we going to England?" Carrie asked, counting the flecks of rotting wood in the wooden ceiling, her eyes tracing the pieces that stuck out of the ceiling panels before losing her spot and recounting, "If I could just get another beer started, I'd be ready by tonight to head out. No pit-stops for me, I'm just fine with a beer stop and then jetting off to England and calling it a day."

"I wish I had the same energy towards that, Bergie, I really do," Bessie said, "afraid to say I'd ask for a few hours of sleep thought over that."

"Sleeps overrated half the time!" Carrie admonished still staring up at the ceiling, "How you gonna get a thing done when sleep's-"

"Exactly what you need." Carrie blinked a few times and into focus above her head came James Douglass - fellow bombardier, with whom Bessie had introduced on one of Carrie's first days after her transfer on base.

Carrie remembered first time seeing him coming towards them, with that carpet on his face he called a mustache, a sharp smirk, a rather loud, somewhat obnoxious voice, a quick hand-shaking, before he was wrapping his arm around her shoulder and pointing out to various areas along the base like they'd been friends for years - something that had caught her completely off guard. And ever since then, with their few chance meetings, they'd been nothing but a trifle of teasing jabs and somewhat good-natured fun.

Key word: somewhat.

Because she could never actually read James Douglass unlike Benny DeMarco or Hambone Hamilton who were just about as sweet to her as her grandma's hotcakes. He'd see her and beeline, make a few jokes, flirt shamelessly, and then go dance with the next girl who'd take his hand. He was quite the character and Carrie usually didn't engage in much conversation past when he'd come to seek her out.

Except now, he was hung above her like a hyperactive golden retriever, like the dog, Kering, that had lived down the street from the Achterberg's in Brooklyn all her life. Running out of the Wilkes house anytime the door opened, barking and sniffing and tearing around the neighborhood like a lunatic. Yeah, Kering the golden retriever who looked like he was a lunatic reminded her exactly of James Douglass.

Nice to know home was never far.

"What are you trying to say, huh?" Carrie asked, still slouching in the chair and staring up at him hovering over her. Douglass grinned at her, showing off his pearly whites and that charming look on his face and he let out a chuckle.

"You know, a little sleep never hurt a soul. Only reason we're even alive," Douglass said, reaching forward to rub her shoulder, "makes the brain happy or some shit. Makes people less….cranky."

"You calling me cranky, now?"

"Cranky. Now that's just one of many words-"

"Oh, you little-"

"Alright!" Bessie said standing and shoving Douglass pack from where he currently was occupying Carrie's headspace, "Nice to know some things never change." Carrie glanced at her as she sat up and Bessie raised a brow with a smirk.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Douglass said from behind Carrie, before he moved around her chair and took the other open seat in the grouping of four, and kicking back to relax. Carrie watched Bessie before looking at Francis, who was rather interested in her cup of beer, before glancing at Douglass, who was already looking at her.

"What?" she murmured, before he made a face and she rolled her eyes.

"How was the flight over, Douglass? Invigorating?" Bessie asked Douglass, with a smile - leave it to Bessie to be sweet as cream on any given occasion.

"You woulda thought Greenland would be, well, fucking green-"

"That's what I said!" Carrie butted in, getting looks from the other three, before settling on Douglass who was watching her, with a mixture of interest and annoyance, but she couldn't seem to decipher the two and sank back in her chair, "Greenland's cold as fuck, not some East Coast paradise I'll give ya that." She heard Douglass chuckle at that as Carrie took in more sips of beer.

"With the way we were flying in, I wasn't even sure we were gonna make it at first, I'll tell you that," Douglass said, "you sit in that nose and you swear to God that you'll smash right into the tarmac. Good ole Ev Blakely don't let that sorta stuff happen though."

"Yeah, a real crap shoot." Carrie muttered, "Thought Birdie was gonna bring us in sideways." Douglass raised a brow as he sipped his beer.

"Guess you can say they lied about the fucking weather, too," Douglass offered, "really nice place here. Could barely move my fingers and toes when I actually stood up fully." Bessie let out a chuckle and started sipping her beer again as Carrie narrowed her eyes at her.

"Hey, they're putting on some music to dance, y'all wanna come?" Judy Rybinski's joyfully said as she appeared behind Francis, "C'mon Bessie, I know that look anywhere, you wanna!"

"You know me too well, Jude," Bessie said, getting to her feet and finishing off her beer.

"I'm coming with! No shot I'm missing a chance at good music and good company." Francis said getting to her feet, "The company part may be a stretch-"

"Oh c'mon!" Judy said, taking Francis' hand before looking at Carrie and Douglass unmoved in their chairs, "You two coming?"

"I'm going to continue working on these beers, Jude, but I appreciate it," Carrie said, "Greenland's officially fucked me up." Judy let out a chuckle.

"You enjoy that then, Bergie," Judy said before looking at Douglass, "Dougie?" Carrie glanced sideways at Douglass who sat quietly, before glancing over at Carrie and then Judy again.

"Maybe next time," he said with a nod, "I promise you a dance, got it?"

"Sounds good! Don't have too much fun!" Judy called before she disappeared and some Artie Shaw began playing over the speakers.

"Good to know we have one thing in common, Bergie." Carrie slowly looked over at Douglass, that annoying nickname rolling off his lips like it had before, "We both hate Greenland." And he grinned at her and couldn't help but smirk back.

"First off, don't call me that. Second, you might be right about that," Carrie said, sipping her beer again, "you know that it's called Greenland because of the Vikings?" Douglass let out a chuckle and shook his head.

"Nah, you're fucking with me," he said, "the Vikings? The guys with the horns on their heads?"

"I'm not kidding," Carrie said sitting up and fully meeting his gaze for the first time since he had hung overtop her, "I swear to you, they did it. Tricking their enemies. For the sake of how much can they fuck a person in the head." Douglass watched her for a moment, before letting out a laugh and sipping his beer again, before smirking.

"Maybe they were just being smart," Douglass countered, "before they knew that it was just one sheet of ice for miles on end. Then they realized what a shitty name Greenland was." Carrie stared at him for a moment, before smiling slightly, unable to hold back her grin.

"You really know how to get under my skin, don't ya?"

"Guess you could say I know what makes you tick."

"Oh so now you suddenly know everything about me, huh?" Carrie said, leaning over to give his shoulder a playful shove, "Well, go on, what's my favorite color?" She watched him and noticed him glance at her lips - surprisingly - before moving back to her eyes.

"I don't know….blue probably." Carrie watched him and stilled for a moment.

"Uh….yeah, actually." she said quickly, and forced down the way her cheeks flamed (and for what she didn't know), "Alright, well, where do I come from?"

"Brooklyn." Douglass said, laughing at the look on her face, "Look, sweetheart, that New York accent ain't just a voice with Southern twang. I know if I was walking down the streets, and I heard your voice, it'd be you."

"God, what the hell." murmured Carrie as Douglass chuckled, "You won't get this - school subject." Douglass looked at her and then smirked before leaning forward.

"Something with math, right?" he asked her confidently, "You don't just get interested in this sorta shit without having some interest there." Carrie watched him and tilted her head.

"Are you mind-fucking me or something?" she asked him, "How the hell-"

"Just good at reading people I guess." Douglass said with a smirk, "Contrary to popular belief, Bergie, I usually know what I'm talking about. There's a reason I'm a bombardier and not just some journalist or something." She watched him and licked her lips.

"Is that why you joined?" she asked him, "The Air Force? Flying in B-17s?" Douglass glanced at her and nodded.

"Had to join the fight somehow, couldn't just sit back and let the fucking Nazis think they could walk all over us," Douglass said, finishing his beer, "that sorta stuff just don't fly around here. Well, except us. We fly." The two burst out into laughter, before they both died down and looked to one another. For a moment, they were quiet regarding one another with somewhat hesitant gazes as Carrie finished off her beer.

"Well, I'm gonna head-"

"Did you wanna-"

They both watched each other, before breaking out into laughter and righting themselves.

"You go." Douglass said.

"I was gonna head out. Get some rest. Pretty tired." she said quickly, her heart racing as she smiled at him with a nod, "You?" Douglass stared at her and for the first time, she saw the sudden shyness in his gaze as he glanced away from her and then back.

"Just…was gonna get another drink, but you head out, get some rest," he said, before smirking at her, "you need it."

"Oh, you asshole." grumbled Carrie knocking his shoulder before standing to her feet, Douglass following suit. The stood there for a moment, looking at one another - usually, if this were a Silver Bullets girl, she'd give them a hug, but with Douglass, she felt frozen in place. She stuck out her hand instead, to shake, and he shook her hand, and she felt more awkward than ever before, as she shook back. His handshake was firm though, and confident and suddenly made her feel like some 16-year-old girl in high school and balked.

"Well, I'll see you around." she said, stumbling back a bit, "Night!" And she disappeared quickly - like she always did. She found the barracks, promptly settled into bed, and then stared at the ceiling, counting the dried pieces of wood hanging from the panels again.

And she replayed the look in James Douglass' eyes - over and over.

And for the first time in years, all she could think about was James Douglass' eyes that had watched her like that, as she tried to fall asleep.

To say the least, it was the best sleep in months.

[thealligatornoah]

Falling in love (Azul edition)

Yeah, I know, I've been a ghost lately. In defense, I haven't been feeling good, but hey! I got inspired by this f*cking banger!: Be My Guest - YouTube. So, it's azul's turn. Enjoy!

Pairing: Azul Ashengrotto x male!reader

Warnings: Freaking Azul trying to scam everyone. Metions of past trauma and bullying.

Nobody understands him, and never will. Azul Ashengrotto is a poor, unfortunate soul that doen't want to be one, so he turns everybody else near him miserable with his contracts, that promise a cheerful future.

Octopuses are brilliant hunters that use their large tentacles to prey on their victims, and this clever dorm leader is no different. Instead of the eight appendixes, he uses the Leech twins; and he usually chooses those who he finds easy, like students with bad grades, with financial problems, or the vulnerable ones. He was once the lolcow, the 'point a finger at me and laugh', but doing things like this, who is laughing last?

When he gazed (y/n)'s eyes at the ceremony the first time, he saw his oportunity cristal clear. A magicless human in a college full of mages? It is impossible to be easier, Or so he thought.

Jade and Floyd find it impossible to bring (y/n) to Azul, that boy seems to smell something fishy each time they offer him help. When they offer help for an exam, to lend the little money he doesn't have to pay lunch, to defend him from bullies... the boy doesn't get the hook, leaving the sly octopus without any idea of how to get him.

That is one evening it started raining. Azul is coming back after being in the club with Idia, smiling to himself remembering their tought chess game as he walks through the hallway. Suddenly, when he is about to open the door to get out the building, a really wet (y/n) opens that door from outside and quickly runs inside, his back facing the door and his face against Azul's. There is a quiet moment between the two until one of them decides to break it.

-I recommend you not to go outside, it's raining cats and dogs. -(y/n) says.

Then, Azul's fast mind had an idea, that is the perfect moment to bring his pray to his lair.

-Isn't your dorm outside? You have to walk a lot to get there, right? -the poor boy nods with worry, Azul controls a mischevious smile, and puts a kind one instead.- You can come to my dorm, I'll get you a discount in the Mostro Lounge for today.

"If he thinks he can get me, he's very wrong. But a smoothy won't hurt me." (y/n) thinks when he deliverates if taking the offer or not.

-Ok. -he finally decides.

When both of the boys get to the Mostro Lounge, Azul sits in front of (y/n) as he drinks the smoothy. They were talking about anything and everything, the octopus asking some innocent questions and the other sharing what he thinks is convenient, keeping many things in secret. But eventually he would get a littke comfortable, even Azul would tone down a bit and forget his objetive.

The mostro's light gives a special glitter to (y/n)'s face, specially his eyes. His movements look graceful as he stares at his soul, with a small smile timidly visible in his lips, wich Azul couldn't get his gaze off, the jazzy music not helping at all.

"Focus if you want to get what you want." Azul thinks, but his mind gets a little numb after that thought. "What did I want?" he realizes. That evening is so nice, he completely forgets.

Days pass by, and (y/n) comes more often to the lounge, he just learned to enjoy the three submarine boy's company, specially Azul. He visits him inside the vip room, where he has the permission to go to.

But the octopus doesn't stop his attempts of making everyone else's soul miserable. After some important exams, now he has some anemone slav- I mean... non remunerated employees; but three of them are (y/n)'s friends, and he didn't care that it is Azul they're talking about, he will fight him.

Then, Azul overblots.

He overblots because (y/n) found out about his past, because his mask is broken, because Leona turned his win into sand, because he is a poor, unfortunate soul.

When everything ends, Azul starts running away from (y/n). His fear for rejection takes the best of him as he avoids any contact with someone that he looks up to very highly. It is all with the twin's help, of course. And they end up getting fed up, of course.

The Leech twins are standing up in front of Azul's desk, who is reading some important papers for the restaurant he is running. He turns slowly his gaze upwards to Jade and Floyd, and then downwards the papers again.

-I'm busy, what do you want.

-We both noticed you have romantic feelings towards (y/n). -says Jade bluntly.

Azul opens his mouth really wide, wanting to speak, but a knot in his throat makes it impossible for any word to go out and make any noise. A little almost wisper like scream and shining, red cheeks make its appearance instead.

-Yeah, yeah, -interrups Floyd- we are really fed up, this turned really boring!

-What he is trying to say is that you will stop avoiding him.

-Even if that means you have to tell him you want to squeeze him to death!

Even if that is a really big ultimatum, Azul knows that they are painfully right. Do octopuses show homosexual tendencies in nature? That's not the point, he does love (y/n)! That's why he is avoiding him in the first place, the awful shame of his past... this has to end now.

This time, when (y/n) comes to his restaurant, Azul doesn't hide in the vip room. In fact, he had the twins to make sure every other client leave earlier, how? Shady Leech twins terms. When everyone else leaves the restaurant, the magicless human feels relief, he knows that this is his crush's doings; he knows him too well to not notice, that's why he didn't give up in the first place.

Althought he knew it, his heart skips a beat when Azul sits up in front of him. Every little detail of his movements are highly studied, that with that nervous smile, makes (y/n) remember when he acted like this with him, so he makes sure to put a kind smile.

-It's been a while, eh? -he breaks the ice.

Again, Azul wants to speak but he cannot do it, he fights but he is just not able to do it. Then he jumps a bit when he feels (y/n)'s hand on his.

-Man, I missed you -he says after laughing-. Don't worry, I'm not mad, you can tell me anything. -he makes emphasis in the last word.

Then Azul inhales, exhales, and looks directly to (y/n)'s eyes, then his mouth. He reviews the script he practised so much for hours, and opens his mouth, the words being able to pass through his throat this time.

-(y/n), the reason I was avoiding you is because I was very ashamed of my past me, and I have romantic feelings towards you -his nervousness comes back-. But I've changed! I'm not that fat octopusno-

(y/n) interrupts him with a little slam on the desk.

-Silly octopus, I don't care about your past. Even heck, I don't care about your looks at all! I like you too, but it is because you are a clever, after all nice man. I feel really comfortable when I'm with you, and every aspect of you feels out of league of me! -again, Azul 404.exe has stopped working- Give me a kiss, dummy.

Both of their bodies moves automatically on the desk so their lips could click for the first of many more times.

Nobody understands him, and never will. Anybody in this universe will understand how lucky he is, how fortunate, and happy soul he is.

[ganondoodle]

since seeing a post from a mutual yesterday i was thinking about how grateful i am that i can now, confidently say something like -im taking demise away from nintendo- or -hes MY character now- while knowing that the people following me will understand that thats not actually possible and also i dont mean that literally literally (duh)

bc (while i have mentioned it in the past and im not trying to fish for sympathy with this, the memories ... and trauma really does come back every now and then) there were people once that imagined i said that about a popular character in the fandom i was in when i was a teen and proceeded to try (and nearly succeeding bc i was already struggeling alot with depression, anxiety and undiagnosed autism) to bully me into killing myself; perhaps it wasnt their actual goal, but the shit they did (alot of them were adults too), was absolutely insane, but i've only been able to see that wayyyy after the fact

like even if im remembering wrong and i did word it wrong or weird or in a way that was easily misunderstood, i was a teen, with english not as my first language and it still was some fandom shit that ultimately did not matter and never in any scenario warrented that level of harrassment, i dont even think i ever told my parents bc i thought i had to deal with it alone since i 'caused' it too and since then just ... wanting to forget it ever happened

while i am much, much better now, and slowly learning to manage my mental health struggles too, i do wonder just .. how much of how i am today was shaped by that horrible experience, like the way i overly try to pre-apologize and put doubts on every thought i write out, or the panic i feel when something does go outside my usual range (mostly twitter really ..) was immensely worsened by that .. among stuff i probably dont even realize

funnily enough, i made my account on tumblr to try and flee from all that was happening to me (even if they did stalk me at first .. even here) and hey, im still here :D

i guess what im trying to say is, i am very happy to still be here, i am grateful to be able to be myself, even with its downsides, even with my problems, even if the things i do are passable at best, even if i will never "make it big", even if i am annoying at times, even if i do mistakes still, even if i am .... horribly bad at replying to the awesome people that message me-

there are, at least a few people, who enjoy, or even care, or heck, even think about what i draw and write, which is .. still mind boggling to me and i might never be able to truly believe its all real, there are people who are able to see beyond my flaws, forgive me if i do missstep or overreact, and just be aware that even with everything i share about me, there is lots you dont know that may inform why i feel a certain way about something, but thats okay, i am human, i am here, there are people who enjoy my brainworms, and perhaps even think i, as a person, am nice

i am so grateful for that

some things are good

[verynormaleatinghab1ts]

Master list of everything I do/have done for wɛight lºss:

For context: I've had an ɛd since the beginning of 2022 (though possibly longer?) and have had a lot of trial and error in that time. I am currently at my all-time lowest wɛight and this is my third or fourth rɛlapse. My heavıest ever was ɓmi 25. For this rɛlapse my start was ɓmi 23 at the beginning of August and now I'm down to ɓmi 18.7 as of October (literally today lol). This is gonna be a very thorough master list of all the stuff I keep consistent at to lºse wɛight.

1. Hydration: Ik you are hearing this for the umpteenth time but DRINK SO MUCH WATER. I probably drink anywhere from 70-100 oz of water a day. You should drink at least HALF YOUR BODY WɛIGHT IN OUNCES of water every day (120 lbs = 60oz water minimum). Whenever my cup is empty I refill it asap or drink sparkling water which I LOVE. The reasons for this are obvious, it takes up stomach space, fends off hunger pangs, hydration, yada yada hopefully you know what water is and does.

2. Other drinks: I very scarcely consume liquid cªlories. If I want a drink with more flavor, sparkling water, unsweetened tea, or (very rarely) zero/diɛt of whatever soda I'm craving. I don't like energy drinks/coffee but those work as well.

That being said, I still allow it sometimes (meaning if my cªlorie budget allows for it). For example, my favorite drink is AriZona green tea, which is not very high in cªlories if you find the right portion size. The bottles are 160 cªls each, and they sell regular 12 oz cans for 80 cªls each. It's all about portion sizes, even for drinks!

Otherwise, I don't drink a lot of juice or soda anyway. If I do want juice, I try to get it in pouch/can/bottle form instead of from the jugs so they are pre-portioned and I don't have to wɛigh it out to calculate cªls. I have some compulsory thing that I feel the need to CHUG every drink I have, so this helps keep me from gulping down half a gallon of sugar water and is still within my budget. I don't drink protein shakes really, but if it's within your budget, there's no reason not to (especially as a meal replacement).

For alcºhol… sometimes I let myself splurge on cªls a little bit bc these days I only drink if I'm REALLY going through it (bc cªlories got me trippin' so hard I kind of stopped being an alcºholic), but otherwise, I hardly drink at all anymore. When I do, I'll do shots of whatever liquºr I've got atm. 90-100 cªls a shot is atrocious but on an empty stomach, it'll hit quick. Other options I've utilized include hard seltzers, liquºr in diet soda/watered-down juice, or spiked teas. Lower in cªls than other things (generally) and good for someone with a lower alc tolerance. I love beer and wine but it's just not effective and too high cªl if I'm looking to get smashed.

3. Apple Cider Vinegar:

Pretty much since I developed an ɛd, apple cider vinegar has been involved in some form or another. I should also mention that all of these methods have helped a lot with my acne (which was my main excuse for why I was always consuming these things so often). *I DONT ACTUALLY KNOW IF IT DOES ANYTHING BUT I WILL ALWAYS TAKE A WɛIGHT LºSS PLACEBO IF IT WORKS* 

At first, I would take shots (2 TBSP or 1.5 oz) of it in the morning every day, usually just alongside water or tea (though I never personally minded the taste that much). I wouldn't recommend this method since it definitely irritates your teeth/mouth/throat/stomach after prolonged use, and makes your stomach hurt if you don't take it with enough water.

Next, I tried ACV gummies. The downside, is these do have cªls (I think about 20 or 30 for 2 pieces?) and unfortunately I found them delicious so they were always tempting me from my bathroom cabinet. Also, they were pricey and inconvenient since I'd always forget to ɛat them in the morning.

Now I take ACV capsules since I prefer to just swallow pills over chewing up a sticky little gummy every morning. No cªls, no taste, quick and easy, MUCH cheaper. I take 2 in the morning and 2 at night, but DO NOT start with that many because it will hurt your stomach. Start with just one in the morning and increase from there.

4. Intake:

I want to make it very clear that ɛating ANY amount under your BMR (basal mɛtabolic rate) will result in wɛight lºss, and this can be calculated on various websites. You don't have to ɛat under 1000 to lºse. You could ɛat OVER 1000 and still lºse. Please use your best judgment to find the right amount for your needs.

I don't track/count net cªlories (cªlories after subtracting cªlories burned), only the total amount of cªlories I CONSUME. I may bump it up a little *very sparingly* but I've maybe only done that 3 or 4 times in the past three months, and never any more than my maintenance cªlories. For me, 500-800 range is just enough to keep me from going insane while still consistently dropping a good amount of wɛight every week. And I don't track seasonings at all because that's literally dumb lol. If using enough salt and pepper to kill a small child will get you to fill up on broccoli instead of bınging on chips who gaf. It'll be >5 cªls regardless, you'll burn that many cªls just sprinkling it in and chewing.

5. Tracking cªls:

I track everything I eat and I wɛigh out my fºod pretty frequently, but usually only for things like meat, dairy, or high carb/sugar foºds. 5 or 10 extra grams that I would let slide before could add a lot more cªlories than you realize (and mostly from fªt or sugar 😧). I don't bother wɛighing out low cªl foods usually, I just make rough wɛight/volume measurements. I usually overestimate my cªls and still end up ɛating below my budget anyway. As someone who would wɛigh out every single little thing that went into my body (including water) to the hundredth decimal gram, being obsessive about it will drive you insane and you will risk a miserable bınge/rɛstrict cycle. It's stressful and annoying and you will still lºse wɛight if you don't. 

I don't track/care about my macrºs at all. I do try to ɛat more protein than bread and sugar when I can, but I don't really prioritize it. I would recommend that you do though, PRIORITIZE PROTEIN AND FIBER because these keep you full for longer and will help you to feel less tired from undɛrɛating.

6. Fªsting/OMªD: What I feel has been absolutely key to my success has been fªsting and OMªD (one mɛal a day). I fªst a minimum of 20 hours every day and only ɛat dinner (because it's required in my house) + a small snack (usually an apple 🤤). My dinners range anywhere from 200-600 cªls and I never let my snack go over 200 cªls. This keeps me full through the night, and throughout the day I tend to keep myself so busy that I forget to ɛat anyway.

Once (sometimes twice) a week I will do a fªst anywhere between 40-50 hours but I would recommend 24-36 hours for someone who does not fªst for long periods as often since this has had a lot of negative side effects for me (fainting, dizziness, nausea, vomiting, stomachache, headache, low blood pressure, spikes/drops in heart rate, weakness, exhaustion). A lot of my issues come from overproduction of stomach acid, dehydration, and general shitty blood circulation. If you do want to fªst for longer periods, here are my tips:

Constantly be drinking water and stay super hydrated.

Chew gum, this produces saliva and reduces acid production.

Absolutely NO carbonated drinks, this will INCREASE acid production!

Extremely light to NO exercise (I break this rule a lot 😓), conserve your energy while fasting.

Drink hot liquids (tea, coffee, water) in the morning, this keeps me from getting nauseous and lightheaded throughout the day.

My body cannot handle any pills/vitamins on an empty stomach, so take with caution (obv don't do this if you take medication you're required to take with food)

Overall reduce stimuli like lights, sounds, temperatures, and smells. These usually make my side effects much worse and cause me to get sick more often (but I also have autism so that may factor).

Keep yourself occupied, preferably something with your hands. I get a lot done with school and a lot of my hobbies like writing, puzzles, painting, etc. I also deep clean and organize things around the house frequently which keeps me occupied for a couple hours.

7. Exercise: In the past, I had a pretty bad exercise ªddiction whenever I would be deep in my ɛd, and honestly, it didn't help much at all. It made me extremely tired and sore all the time and it led me to bınge often because I told myself it would "cancel out". Exercise does not contribute to wɛightlºss as much as people think it does, since wɛightlºss is primarily done through your diɛt. Now, I exercise once or twice a week (if at all), and this is the most wɛight I've ever lost and KEPT OFF, so slowing down on the exercise has really helped me a lot. I primarily do cardio like walking, stairmaster, playing sports, home workouts etc., but nothing super intense. I only aim to get over 2000 steps a day and am pretty sedentary because of school.

8. Actual foods I eat: Disclaimer: Outside of ªna, I also have dealt with ARFıD/super picky ɛating my whole life, so this list won't be super varied and relatively basic.

First things first, take multivitamins/supplements. Especially Iron, Calcium, Vitamin B12, and Vitamin D. I prefer capsules, but if gummies, drink mixes, etc are easier DO THAT. These are essential vitamins and minerals that will keep you from feeling like walking dead.

Protein: I have never ɛaten pork, and I very scarcely ɛat beef or lamb. I pretty much only ɛat chicken/turkey for everything which is leaner and higher in protein than other meats. I don't like/ɛat seafood or tofu, but that's also an option. I fucking LOVE eggs they're one of my favorite foºds, plus decently low cªl, protein, filling, and delectable in any form. I really really like nuts as well (esp cashews) but it's very rare I get to ɛat them because they are so high cªl 😓 However if you do they're a good source of healthy fªts and protein! I save it for special occasions.

Veggies/fruits: I ɛat A LOT of fruits and veggies bc I try to incorporate several into any foºd I make. Cooking pasta? Fill it with veggies. Stir fry? 90% veggies. Literally anything else? Half my plate is veggies. Volume ɛating is a lifesaver. It keeps me full, adds fiber and vitamins to my diɛt, and is low cªl because they're mostly water, so I ɛat them as much as I want. The fruits/veg I ɛat the most: spinach, kale, lettuce, cabbage, fresh herbs, tomatoes, peppers, onion, broccoli, green beans, ginger, bok choy, carrots, apples, raspberries, blackberries, blueberries, strawberries, grapes, melon, citrus, bananas.

Dairy: Low fªt, skim, or 0% fªt dairy products are always the go-to, you get the same result for whatever you're subbing it for. I haven't drank cows milk since I was a wee child because it's disgusting and I don't really ɛat any dairy other than cheese, so making this swap wasn't very difficult for me. I do try to limit dairy as much as I can though because it is so high in fªt and cªlories. If a recipe has butter or cream I try to leave it out or use as little as possible.

"Breads": I still ɛat things like pasta, tortillas, rice, and regular bread frequently, just in small amounts. And I will almost never double up on 'breads' (like having a bread roll and pasta together). I try to ɛat protein pasta over regular to at least get some benefit from it since it is so high cªl. Lower cªl options you can have a little more freely are anything keto or gluten-free/vegan options. Sometimes if I want toast or a sandwich I will cut one slice of bread in half so I have two very thin slices and it tricks me into thinking I ªte more than I really did. I really love instant noodles but unfortunately they are very high in cªlories so I haven't ɛaten them in a very long time ☹️. Instead I ɛat rice noodles or instant pho since it's pretty low cªl compared to the fried wheat noodles.

9. Junk food swaps/junkorɛxia:

Okay I know you just saw the big list of "healthy" foods but I am a junkorɛxic to my CORE. I love sugar, I love desserts, I love bread, I love cheese, I love chips, I love fast foºd, all of the worst highest cªlorie garbage you can think of. I still ɛat these things from time to time believe it or not, but now we're going back to portion control. Brownies are one of my favorite treats, and I still get to have them if it's *within my budget*. I can still have bread, and chips, and cookies etc, as long as it's *within my budget*. You don't necessarily have to completely cut these things out, because I know when I do, I go crazy and bınge on all of these foºds eventually. Even still, I don't ɛat these fºods very often because I found lower cªl swaps!

I'm not going to try to lie to you and tell you "if you want potato chips ɛat baked broccoli or seaweed instead ❤️" because that shit is WACK and not at all like chips. Here are some swaps I make for most of the garbage I usually would ɛat for the fellow junkorɛxics:

N!CKS/halotop ice cream, zero sugar popsicles/bars: lowest cªl ice cream flavors of N!CKS ice cream are around 1 cªl per gram! I like these because they feel less heavy in my stomach than regular ice cream, and taste more like frozen yogurt anyway 🤤. I haven't actually tried halotop but I assume both brands are similar. Popsicles I can't ever tell a difference, it's just flavored with ice sugar or flavored ice with no sugar, neither are super high cal.

Sugar-free jello and pudding: self-explanatory, taste very very close to the regular to me so I don't even realize a difference! I hate yogurt but zero sugar greek yogurts would work too if you're into that. I use this as a swap for jellos/puddings/ice cream.

Baked chips, savory rice crisps, popcorn: baked chips are lower cªl and lower in fªt by weight, but they taste way different from the regular so don't expect them to be the same. Rice crisps are super low cªl compared to chips and come in a lot of flavors (I like these better than regular chips most of the time bc they're crunchier). Popcorn (even the buttered or other flavors) isn't as high cªl as I assumed it was! Plus it's high volume and filling, bc I know my ass cannot finish a whole bag of microwave popcorn to myself.

Sweet rice cakes, fiber one bars, graham crackers, cinnamon raisin bread, frozen waffles or pancakes (ordered low–high cªl): These are my replacement "baked goods" because that is something I crave a lot. I know most of these aren't at all like cookies, but it works for me personally and I can fit them into my small-ish budget regularly without having to bake everything myself all the time. Even outside of having an ɛd I've always loved rice cakes, so regardless I ɛat them a lot, low cªl, CRUNCHY, cheap. Fiber one bars are like 60-90 cªls + fiber ofc. Graham crackers are 130 cªls for 2 sheets. Cinnamon raisin bread is 90 cªls a slice (personal fav). Frozen waffles/pancakes are usually around 200 cªls a serving. 

Sugar-free candy/other: I think it's good to assume any candy that's keto or dairy/sugar-free will be lower cªl than the regular version. I don't really ɛat a lot of candy day-to-day but whenever I crave it I go for granola or fiber one bars, or have a small amount of dark chocolate instead. If I'm craving sour candy, I'll have fruit, jello, fruit gummies, or drink juice. These aren't very good or direct swaps, but I tend to crave flavors and textures more than specific fºod items (if that makes sense). But regardless, if I have enough cªls leftover, I just ɛat the real thing lol.

10. Cook your own food:

Cooking for myself 99% of the time has been crucial for my wɛightlºss. I'm able to wɛigh and portion out all my ingredients accurately to get exact cªlories for anything I make. Plus this way I can throw tons of vegetables into whatever I make to give it more volume/nutrition. 

I also cook for my whole family, which means they constantly have high cªl requests for what they want me to make like pastas, fried foºds, burgers, etc. If I know for certain it will fit into my budget, I'll just ɛat it (with much difficulty) so they don't get suspicious. However I'll also swap/remove the super high cªl parts in recipes completely and other times I will add all the high cªl stuff to just their portions and keep a 'clean' portion for myself. 

I will pretty much never get take out unless my whole family is getting it, and even then, I try to just have leftovers or cook my own meal instead. If I HAVE to get take out, I try to get the lowest cªl thing I possibly can.

11. Avoiding bınges/munchies:

Out of everything, I would say avoiding bınges is the hardest psychological aspect to get past. I smºke 🍃 every night to sleep, so I be getting the munchies really bad sometimes, and sometimes it feels like there's only so much to do before my brain goes "fuck it" and starts ɛating everything in sight. These are basic, but here are the things that have worked the best for me consistently:

Sparkling water/flavored diɛt drinks. You get the satisfaction of having some sort of flavor on your tongue without the consequences of ɛating, and takes up room in your stomach to trigger fullness hormones.

Gum (especially mint flavor) tricks my brain into thinking I'm ɛating something + mint works as an appɛtite suppressªnt.

Staying busy is the biggest thing, always be doing something that is tedious or involves a lot of focus. I'm very easily distractable regardless, but the second I've really set my attention to one thing, I don't think about anything else. Read/listen to a book, get out of the house and wander for a bit, go for a drive, watch a movie, do a craft, online window shop, play a computer/mobile game, clean/organize. I will very frequently leave my house to wander aimlessly around a store just to get away from any fºod.

When in doubt, sleep it off. At night especially, I'm too lazy to really do all that much so if I feel like I'm going to lose my grip on reality, spark up another bowl and pass tf out. Can't ɛat if I'm sleepin'!

Chɛw/Spıt: I feel like this used to be more popular with ɛd ppl a few years ago but I hardly see anyone talk about doing it now. I do this mostly with mɛals I don't want to ɛat when I'm fªsting or with all the trash I would want to bınge on and it honestly works really well for me! You do probably end up consuming a very small amount of the cªlories, but I always make sure to spıt everything out really well and rinse my mouth/brush my teeth right after.

And that's all I think. Thank you for reading! I spent a lot of time on this so reblogs are appreciated! I hope some of this is at least somewhat helpful to anyone. If y'all have any questions, reach out! Please stay safe, help is always out there whenever you need it. Cheers!

[sagerxge]

He was a punk, she did ballet

Author's note: So, it's been a long time since I've written and posted a fanfic, but late90s/early00s skater boy Eddie and ballet dancer Steve randomly popped into my head and I had to write it into existence. I posted this on my AO3, but I wanted to share it here as well. I hope you enjoy <3

Word count: 2,153

_________

“Ok, Steve, your MASH is…” Robin announced, holding up her pen and reading off her notebook. “A house with Eddie Munson, 5 kids, you’re a teacher and you drive a sports car.” Robin was only there because she liked to bully Steve.

Steve sighed and rolled his eyes, still in the middle of his warm-up stretches. Nancy, who was in the process of tying her hair back, scoffed next to him. She was the only other one of the crew who was in ballet with Steve. The two of them often got the lead parts together.

“All of that sounds lovely, except for the Eddie part,” Nancy grumbled. “I was going to say 5 kids part was the worst, but since you’re gonna be marrying Eddie, it doesn’t sound so bad.”

“It’s just a game,” Steve said, a little exasperated. The idea of marrying Eddie wasn’t that bad. Sure, he was different and… out there, but Steve kind of liked the idea. Steve, the ballet dancer with good grades and who could handle his own in sports, versus Eddie the punk musician and wild skater. Nancy gave him an irritated look, like she was reading his mind.

“Eddie’s cool,” a new voice said. Steve glanced up, revealing Dustin. The kid was snacking on some milk duds and offered some to Steve with that bright smile of his. Steve shook his head.

“No sugar before dancing,” Steve said, standing up. “Gives you cramps, you know.”

“No it doesn’t,” Dustin said indignantly. “Actually, it’s proven that- “

Steve groaned and waved his hand, quieting the little weasel. “Forget I said anything, I don’t want to know whatever it is that you were gonna say.”

Dustin gave Steve a playful glare before backing down, scouting the room for Max. Steve usually brought the kids with him to practice if they didn’t have anything else to do, but today was just Dustin, Lucas and Max. Will was sick, so he stayed home. Mike and El were “studying”, but Steve was pretty sure they were just making googly eyes at each other then they thought Hopper wasn’t looking at them.

“She’s outside, if you’re looking for Max,” Steve said. Last Steve saw, Max was practicing skating tricks in the parking lot. He tried not to keep too close an eye on the kids, but he always like to know vaguely where they were.

“I wasn’t looking for her,” Dustin protested. Steve gave Dustin the raised eyebrow look. The kid blushed a little and opened his mouth to say something, but the instructor then called the class to start. Steve shooed the kid and his milk duds away so he can focus. It took a bit for the kids to not laugh at Steve wearing tights with Daisy Dukes, but sometimes Dustin couldn’t help himself. It was better to keep him away from Steve during practice.

The little twerp planted himself in the back corner of the room, reading one of his dragon books, munching on his milk duds and occasionally watching the class. Steve never saw Max, and he just told himself that she was out skating with Lucas, and that the two of them were safe. As soon as class was done, Steve couldn’t fight that stupid anxiety anymore over not seeing Max or Lucas and not knowing if they were safe. He grabbed his stuff, slammed his feet into his shoes and dragged Dustin out the door. As soon as they reached the parking lot, Steve saw Max and Lucas. Both of them were in one piece, thank god. Steve let out a breath of relief. Max was trying to do some type of flip trick with her board and Lucas was sitting on the hood of Steve’s car. Steve was about to yell at him to get off his vehicle when Max landed her trick. She shouted with joy and pumped her fists in the air. She turned to the side, talking to someone.

“Did you see that?” Max shouted. “I gotta clean it up, but it felt nice.” It was then that Steve noticed the guy with shaggy brown hair, baggy jeans and a Metallica t-shirt. Eddie. Steve froze, staring at the man.

Eddie looked good. The sun was setting, so it cast that soft golden glow on everything, including Eddie’s hair. It made the shaggy locks look soft and touchable. Eddie’s smile flashed, almost brighter than a midday sun. He was leaning against his own skateboard, a raggedy beat-up thing that looked like it had seen years of love and hundreds of tricks.

“It did,” Eddie said, nodding. He was clearly very excited and trying to contain himself. “Just make sure to flick your toes a bit more, like this.” He dropped his board on the ground, hopped on and executed, presumably, a perfect version of the trick Max just did. When he landed, Eddie flicked his hair up and smiled even wider. Something about how Eddie looked in that moment made Steve feel something.

His hair was a little messier, his smile was bright and clear, like he was without a single care in the world. Steve could have kissed him right then and there. If he wanted to, of course. Steve cleared his throat and forced his attention back to Lucas.

“Ass off my car,” Steve barked, snapping his fingers. Lucas rolled his eyes but obeyed. Max grumbled something about Steve being a mother under her breath as he approached, Dustin close behind him.

“Dustin, my man,” Eddie said cheerfully, dismounting his skateboard and kicking it aside slightly. Dustin practically ran over to the man and gave him a big hug. Eddie even picked him up and swung him around in a circle, the kid giggling the whole time. Steve rolled his eyes and tried to ignore how his heart fluttered at the sight. Eddie put Dustin down and released him from his grip before turning his attention to Steve. Eddie gave Steve a thorough onceover, almost like he was a piece of meat at a deli. Steve gulped, fighting the blush on his cheeks as he realized he was still sporting his white tank top, tights and small exercise shorts. He suddenly felt very exposed but tried to keep it cool.

“Well, hello there, Harrington,” Eddie said in a flirty tone that Steve wished he could ignore. Steve leaned on one hip and cleared his throat.

“In the car, hoodlums. Now,” Steve said in his best mom voice. The kids collectively grumbled but climbed into the car. Eddie was still eyeing Steve when he glanced back at the man.

“Didn’t know you came out here,” Steve said.

Eddie gave him an easy grin that make Steve’s stomach do twirls. “I come here often.”

Steve scoffed at the cheesy pick-up line attempt. “Skate spot?” Steve asked, gesturing to Eddie’s board. Eddie shrugged.

“You could say that,” Eddie answered, smirking. Steve’s eyes narrowed at his slightly suggestive tone but decided to ignore it. Eddie gave him another once over. “You look good, Harrington.” With the flirty comment still in the air, Eddie flipped his board with his fingers before hopping on and skating away.

“Hey, lover boy!” Lucas shouted, breaking Steve from his gaze. “Quit staring at his ass and drive us home! We’re hungry.”

Steve shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts and mumbled about his stupid kids before climbing into the car.

------------

Steve was at Scoops Ahoy working with Robin when the gang barged in. Steve sighed as Dustin paraded up Steve and slammed a poster on the counter.

“If this is for another lost dog,” Steve said, “I’m not helping you look. Last time we went on one of those little adventures, I nearly ended up with a broken hip.”

“Yeah, be careful, Dustin. Grandma here only wants one hip replacement at a time,” Max said, popping a bubble with her gum before giving Steve a smirk. He glared before sticking his tongue out at her.

“It’s for Corroded Coffin,” Mike said excitedly. Steve blinked at the kid before looking at the poster. It was definitely not what Steve would have designed for whatever event it was advertising. It had a big, black craggy font with “corroded coffin” on the top, followed a rock and roll style collage, with things like chains, cigarettes, devil’s horns and leather clothes. Steve raised his eyebrows.

“And do I want to know what the Corroded Coffin is?” He asked skeptically, trying to find more information on the poster. He spotted a date, time and “Hawkins High Gym”.

“It’s a concert,” Dustin piped up. “For Eddie’s band.” Steve’s eyes snapped up. He sensed Robin eye him weirdly. Steve cleared his throat.

“And why are we going to one of Eddie’s concerts?” He asked, hoping they wouldn’t notice the choked tone his voice took at the mention of the skater boy, let alone the idea of seeing him play in his band. Eddie was a very passionate person. Seeing how Eddie had lit up the other night while Max landed that skate trick at been engrained in Steve’s memory, as much as he didn’t want it to be. Eddie was most likely going to be just as passionate about his music as he was about skating, if not more so.

“Because Eddie asked us to go,” Dustin said excitedly. “Can we go? It’ll be fun.”

“Eddie did ask for you to come too,” Will added. Steve glanced at the kid. He was wearing that shy little smile of his. Steve could see the excitement in the boy’s eyes. Steve sighed and looked at the rest of the group. Max was the only one who didn’t look particularly excited, but when was she ever, honestly. At least not like the boys were. Steve groaned and rubbed his hands over his face.

“Fine,” He mumbled into his hands. The kids all cheered. Max playfully punched his arm before they all paraded out of the ice cream shop, talking about how they had to let Eddie know right away. Steve groaned and thunked his head against the counter.

“You’re done for, dingus,” Robin said with teasing sympathy, patting his back. Steve groaned again.

-----------

Steve could not believe it. He was at the very front of the small crowd waiting for Corroded Coffin, surrounded by his kids. Dustin insisted they all wear black to “look the part”. The little twerp was even sporting some eye liner, courtesy of Eddie. Max was wearing one of Eddie’s leather jackets, but it was at least 5 sizes too big, so she was constantly adjusting the sleeves. Mike was wearing a black Iron Maiden shirt, and even Will got into the bit by wearing chunky boots. Joyce was probably just happy that Will was going out with friends, since it was something he did so rarely nowadays. Lucas was wearing a denim vest similar to the one Eddie wore all the time, complete with a cut shirt of a band Steve had never heard of attached to the back with safety pins.

Steve looked at his own outfit. He was wearing all black, but not as extreme as the others. He pulled a plain black polo out of the back of his closet, but it was a couple sizes too small, so it highlighted a bit too much of him for this environment. At this rate, Eddie was going to think Steve was revealing himself for Eddie, given how Eddie had already seen him in tights and Daisy Dukes, now this. And he most definitely was not doing that.

Soon, the lights went out, the crowd cheered and a loud guitar chord burst through the speakers. Steve jumped and covered his ears as the crowd screamed, including the kids. Steve tried to collect himself but then he saw Eddie.

Steve realized he might be done for.

Eddie was wearing black eye liner, his hair looked extra fluffy and touchable, and a leather vest. With no shirt. He also wore tight jeans and combat boots. Steve gulped, staring at the series of necklaces that laid against Eddie’s bare chest. Eddie was parading onto the stage, strumming his guitar, sapping up the crowd’s energy. Eddie stuck his tongue out and burst into a guitar solo. The crowd screamed even louder. Steve stared. Eddie flicked his hair back and soon other instruments burst from the speakers. It was then that Steve realized the rest of the band had come out and they were starting to play a song. Eddie wandered the stage with the singer, playing his absolute soul out on the guitar, and Steve couldn’t help but be mesmerized.

The way Eddie’s fingers flew over the strings, the way his forearms flexed slightly as he played, the dances and jumps he did when the crowd cheered. That bright midday smile on his face. Steve could feel himself smiling too.

Oh, yeah. He was done for.