#i was supposed to get better after november ended but i have not

[halinski]

.

[oneforthemunny]

november rain |ex-husband!eddie munson x ex-wife!reader|

prompt: after your divorce to eddie, you try to get back out there. but sometimes, nothing beats what you already have.

contains: smut minors dni. mom!reader x dad!eddie. divorced. mentions to past angst/ fighting. mentions of teen pregnancy. oral fem receiving, pinv sex. slightly angsty. asshole date, angsty ending. kinda a bittersweet fic. based off this ask <3

You could hear him before you could see him, speakers shaking from the noise in his car, leaving your ears buzzing at the vibrations. The swelling of your heart rose above the annoyance you tried to feign, rolling your eyes and hoping he didn’t see through it. 

“You do realize I live in a subdivision? Neighbors and all?” You crossed your arms, glaring at him before he’d ever climbed out of the car, killing the engine and the music with the pull of his keys. 

“Yeah? They don’t like Judas Priest?” Eddie grinned, dimples deep, and you knew under his shades his eyes were bright and wild- the way they always were when they were teasing you. “I have Metallica too. I think I still have that Blondie tape you like in here too somewhere, if they’d prefer that.” 

Your heart skipped, lips twitching in a faltering snarl that was slowly turning into a blushing soft smile. “You better not play music that loud when my babies are with you.” You huffed, hands moving to rest on your hips, the denim waistband of your jeans hugging you just right in your Levi’s- Eddie’s favorite pair. You knew it, and you didn’t miss the way his tongue ran over his bottom lip. 

“Did you hear me?” You snapped, swallowing a grin. You knew he hadn’t, too distracted. “Eddie, I am serious, you will bust their little ear drums-” 

“-I know, sweetheart. C’mon,” Eddie shook his head, pushing his sunglasses up, pinning his curly bangs with them. “They’re my kids too. ‘M not gonna hurt them, you know that.” The sun caught a flash of gold, gleaming just for a moment off his left hand. 

Eddie was still wearing his wedding band. 

Your stomach sunk at the thought, thumb absentmindedly twisting your bare ring finger. The divorce had been final for months- six, to be exact. You’d stopped wearing yours after the first. It was weird, not wearing the small band and ring you’d worn since high school- since Eddie proposed with shaking hands on your front porch after you found out you were expecting. He’d dropped the ring twice, sweaty and nearly sick with anxiety. Your mother told you that should have been a sign, but you found it endearing then- maybe you did even now. 

“Where’s the rugrats anyway?” Eddie hummed, catching your glass door to hold it for you, letting you slip under his arm. You caught a whiff of his cologne, faint from the day, mixed with a cigarette he tried to mask from earlier. 

“Jude’s playing in the backyard.” You stepped into the small foyer. Eddie had left it to you in the divorce, saying you were the only reason they got it anyways. There was always an eerie feeling that lingered when he came inside, a haunting reminder of a forever that didn’t quite succeed. 

“He’s supposed to be watching Lucy.” You hummed, craning your neck to look out the window in the living room. “They’re hunting for bugs.” Your nose crinkled, leaving Eddie laughing. 

“Bug hunting? Oh, they don’t know their Mama is terrified of bugs, huh?” Eddie teased, peeking out of the window to see the two kids, perfect blends of both of your features packed into two tiny beings. 

“I’m not terrified. Well, of all the bugs.” You huff, rolling your eyes. “Spiders, yes, and I told Jude those were off limits or I was giving Grandpa Wayne back the bug catching kit.” 

“You’re no fun.” Eddie shook his head lightly. “Scared of a little spider?” His fingers tapped playfully in a crawling way up your arm towards your shoulder, leaving you squirming away. 

“Stop.” 

“God, do you remember- what was it? Junior year? When there was a spider on your desk in Geometry?” Eddie laughed, grabbing his side at the memory. “And you shoved all your books off the desk in the middle of class?”  

“Yes, and you and Gareth just laughed at me.” You fought back your own smile at the memory. 

“Yes!” Eddie howled in laughter. “And Mr. Browcheski got so fu-sorry- freaking mad at all of us. Did we- That was when we got detention, right?” 

“Yes,” You glared at him playfully, crossing your arms. “And I was about to have a nervous breakdown thinking about how I was going to tell my parents.” 

“That’s right.” Eddie nodded slowly. “That was your first detention?” 

You nodded. “I was a good girl until I met you, Munson. You’re a bad influence.” 

“Yeah, can’t be all bad though, right?” Eddie held your gaze, stepping close instinctively. Your breathing hitched, his hand gliding over your hip, fingertips ghosting the bare skin above your waist band. “We had some good times too.” 

Your head spun, dizzy with a clouding lapse of judgment. Eddie was pulling you in, hand sliding from your hip to the small of your back, holding you so close you were flush to him. His head was already tilting, ducking towards yours, ready to capture your lips and you’d let him. Of course you’d let him, you’d be lying to say you didn’t miss his kiss- miss him. 

Lucy’s high pitched shrill had you faltering, snapping out of the haze, back into a damning reality. “What- Eddie, we-we can’t.” You took a step back, knees a little weak and wobbly from the adrenaline rush that always came with his affection. “We can’t do this.” 

“Right,” Eddie swallowed, hands shoving in his pockets, cheeks blooming with a pink heat that burned through his body.  “S-Sorry. I just- I got caught up in the moment. Talking about that. I just-” 

“-It’s fine.” You muttered, pulling the back door open, a melody of Jude and Lucy’s giggles floating in. “Guys, someone’s here to see you.” You sing-songed in a happy tune, face lighting with exaggerated excitement. You were good like that, Eddie thought, still playing nice for the kids. Maybe it wasn’t playing, Eddie really hoped it wasn’t, though the rational side of his mind (and his friends) begged to differ. 

“Daddy!” A duo of squeals and shrieks blended with bounding feet up the wooden steps into the house. 

Jude came bounding in first, nearly knocking Eddie over at the knees when his small frame collided with him. “Wo-oah, hey, buddy.” Eddie grinned, tousling the boy’s wild curls, frizzy and matted from playing outside. 

“Hi, Dad.” Jude beamed up at Eddie. He’d gotten Eddie’s lashes but your eyes. “We’re catching bugs.” 

“I heard. Catch any good ones? Any centipedes?” Eddie grinned, bending down to hug the boy. 

“No,” Jude’s face fell slightly in a frown. “But I did catch a ladybug for Lucy!” Jude bounced on his toes with excitement. 

Your heart swelled, trying to wrangle the small girl on your hip, passing her off to Eddie- well, passing was generous, she nearly launched off your hip into his arms. “A lady bug?” Eddie repeated in a babble he still used with Lucy. She was still small, in his eyes, though she was growing every single day, she was still his baby. 

“Did Bubs get you a ladybug, Lucy?” Eddie bounced her on his hips, tickling her sides so she shrieked with laughter. 

“Yeah,” Lucy giggled, leaning back to look at Jude in a limp sort of backbend. “Jude’s gots me a ladybug an-and we found a lot of worms.” She grinned, eyes wide and excited. She got her cadences from Eddie, that was for sure, more exaggerated and dramatic with each passing day. 

“Are you going to hunt bugs with us?” Jude asked, pulling on the hem of Eddie’s t-shirt. “Will you? Please?” 

“Yeah, of course, I will.” Eddie smiled, shaking his head softly. “Do you have a spare shovel for me? Can you go find the little red one?” 

Jude looked at you. “I think it’s in the garage with the basketball.” You nodded towards the garage door. Jude ran off, footsteps heavy, Lucy squirming to get down and chase after him. “But- hey! Put everything back where it goes, Jude Wayne! And do not climb on anything!” You called after him, voice teetering on stern. 

“I got it!” Jude called back. 

Eddie’s chest puffed in boasting pride, grinning at the boy. You rolled your eyes, shaking your head. “Hm, wonder who that sounds like?” You said sarcastically, giving Eddie a pointed glare. 

“That’s my boy. What can I say?” Eddie grinned, shrugging lightly. You grinned, shaking your head. “So, uh, where’re you going tonight?” Eddie tried not to sound so awkwardly needy, but it came out exactly like that. 

“Oh,” You could feel your body stiffen, a warm embarrassed heat creeping up your spine. “I, uh, I- Well, I’m going out.” You paused, fiddling with straightening something on a shelf, anything to avoid his gaze. “I…I have a date tonight.” 

Eddie’s heart sank, falling deep into the pit of his stomach. “Oh.” He swallowed the thick lump in his throat. “I, uh, I didn’t know you were… Ya know, um, gettin’ back out there.” 

“Well, I- I mean it wasn’t exactly planned.” Your thumb went back to your ring finger, rubbing the bare skin there. You used to twist your ring when you were feeling anxious, a soothing mechanism. 

“Lydia at work set me up on a blind date with her cousin. The-The accountant guy.” You cringed at your words, spouting in a word vomit that you couldn’t seem to stop. Your heart was racing, stuttering to a halt and rearing back with every fall of Eddie’s face. 

“I-I mean, I just… She’d been asking me since-since,” Since the divorce, the words you couldn’t bring yourself to say. “A-And I figured why not. I mean…” You waved your hand between the two of you, the tension uncomfortable and thick. 

“No, no, yeah,” Eddie nodded, swallowing back a burn of emotions he tried to conceal. “No, that’s- you should. Not that- I mean, you don’t need me to tell you that, but,” Eddie took a breath, finally meeting your nervous gaze. “You’ll have a good time.” 

“Yeah?” You squeaked, wringing your hands anxiously. Eddie had flashbacks to years before, when you two were a lot younger, your nervous demeanor asking for his reassurance before sneaking onto the football field at midnight. 

Eddie’s heart ached at the memory, but he nodded slowly. “Yeah. I mean, he’s lucky to get to go out with you. You’re… You’re the best, you know that.” Eddie reassured you now just like he did then, just like he always did. 

“Thank you.” You whispered, turning just as Jude and Lucy came back in, triumphantly waving the red, plastic shovel. “I, um, I’m going to get ready. There’s a frozen pizza in the freezer. I’ll preheat the oven, if you can just stick it in.” 

“I got it.” Eddie waved you off, forcing a reassuring smile. “You go get ready. Have fun, sweetheart.” His smile was warm, leaving you burning in excitement. Still, when he left, you were filled with a sinking, nauseating feeling of dread, nerves. 

Heidi would tell you that you were co-dependent, that Eddie had made you that way. She never liked him, not in highschool, especially not after the divorce. She was always reminding you that you could do better, that you should do better. 

That always sparked a fight, one of the many that you and Eddie had over and over and over. His accusatory tongue lashing accusations at you, your defenses climbing higher and higher, both too stubborn to let it go. You were reminded of the fight that did it- that caused the divorce. Days- no, weeks of back and forth. 

“You know, there’s times I wish I would have skipped school that day!” Eddie roared, voice hoarse and scratchy from the screaming match you two had been having. “I was supposed to skip with Gareth, but I fucking went, and you know what? I wish I wouldn’t have! Then we would have never gotten paired up and I wouldn’t be dragged into all this shit with you! I wouldn’t be so miserable all the goddamn time!” 

His words rang in your head, stinging just as much then as they did now. You took a breath, that haunting memory was the final push you needed to step into the shower, to get ready, and to try and start something new without Eddie. 

“So, Lydia tells me you have a kid.” Matthew asked, swirling his wine around in his glass. 

The restaurant was obnoxiously expensive, much more stuffy than what you expected on the first date. You felt terribly underdressed, in a sundress you hadn’t worn in years, fitting a little tighter now since Lucy. Note to self, go dress shopping next time. 

“Yeah, I do,” You smiled politely, the tension still a little uncomfortable, unfamiliar. “Jude and Lucy.” 

“Oh,” Matthew’s brows raised, tone clipping in shock. “Two?” 

“Yeah,” You swallowed back that familiar burning in your chest, the one that always came with judgment. Raised brows and pointed glares, being pregnant in highschool, you thought you’d be used to it by now. 

“Uh, how-how old are they?” Matthew asked, fingers tapping nervously on the table. So much tension, and you hadn’t even gotten your food yet. 

“Jude is seven, and Lucy just turned four.” You felt your chest boast with pride. Talking about your kids, that could soothe you, it always did. 

“Wow,” You weren’t sure how Matthew’s brows could go any higher, but somehow they did. “That’s… I’m sorry, you just, you look really young to have kids that age.” 

“I am,” You shrugged sheepishly. “I, um, I had Jude in high school. My senior year.” You tried not to flinch, to steel yourself for the inevitable look- the one that always gave you. 

“High school?” Matthew’s tone skittered on a scoff, leaving you burning with embarrassment- with shame. Why’re you embarrassed about it? Best thing that ever happened to me, Eddie would always say, scoffing nonchalantly when you were younger and  someone gave you a snarling glace in the supermarket, two teens pushing a baby around in a shopping cart. 

“Yeah,” You looked down at your hands under the table. This was what you dreaded, the ‘getting back out there’ phase. You had forgotten how utterly painful it was, worse now than when you were a teen. 

“My ex-husband and I got married out of high school.” You continued, trying to break up the uncomfortable silence. “After- Well, before we had Jude, but after I found out I was pregnant.” 

“Oh,” Matthew didn’t look at you, looking anywhere but you really. “That’s why you divorced then? Makes sense.” 

Your cheeks burned with embarrassment. “No, no, that’s- that’s not why.” It wasn’t entirely true, at least, part of the reason but not the whole reason. 

“It’s not?” Matthew raises a brow, scoffing with unimpression before downing the rest of his wine. “Look, I’m not trying to offend you, but I’m not dumb. Pregnant in high school, married the baby daddy because it was the right thing to do, right? And then what? Had another when things got rough to try and save the marriage?” 

Your heart dropped, frozen in mortification, fear maybe, in your seat. “I’m right, aren’t I? I mean, it’s a tale as old as time, Sugar.” Your cheeks burned at the nickname. That wasn’t your nickname, not what Eddie called you, and even if he did- it never sounded condescending and mean like it did when it came from Matthew. 

“No shame in it, just own up to it.” Matthew scoffed, leaning back in his seat. You felt small sitting across from him, his lips pursed, rolling over your frame with such judgment it made your stomach turn. “Lying on the first date doesn’t seem like the best option.” 

“Excuse me,” You swallowed, grabbing your purse with shaky, sweaty palms. “I have to go to the restroom.” You didn’t wait for his response, the sinking feeling in your stomach only worsening with every step towards the door. 

The Hideout was only a block away, still standing strong on the outskirts of the newly renovated downtown. You were surprised it hadn’t conformed to the trendy chic wave that was hitting everywhere, but selfishly you were glad it stayed the same. The wooden booths and dollar drafts, just the same as they’d always been. 

The corner booth in the back caught your eye, occupied by a young couple- barely legal looking. Probably snuck in here with a fake, buzzing with adrenaline and the thrill that they might be caught, sharing a pitcher. That was you and Eddie, not too long ago. He’d snuck you in on your third or fourth date. You’d never been so nervous, never felt so alive at the same time. A goody-two-shoes, Eddie called you with a sweet grin, sliding you a beer across the table and slipping in next to you in that booth. 

Your heart ached at the memory, chest heavy with emotion. Why couldn’t he have just been better? Why couldn’t you just have been better? Why couldn’t both of you be better to each other, for each other? 

The heavy weight of regret settled on your chest, mixing with the draining heaviness of the night. You looked at the phone on the wall, digging in your purse for quarters. You couldn’t call Lydia, not after you’d stood up her fix up, left him in the restaurant. Robin was undoubtedly not home on a Friday night. 

Sighing, you cradled the phone to your ear, slipping the quarters in the slot, finger jamming the numbers. The line trilled once, twice, your fingers tapping on your crossed arm. By the third ring, you were ready to hang up, give up and call your sister. 

“Munson residence,” Eddie’s voice was soft, still with that lilt of playfulness that made your heart swoon. He’d been so excited when you two got the house, when you got your own landline. He’d answered the phone all posh and silly, claiming you two were “high society” now, moving up in the world. 

“Eddie,” Your breath shook, chest rattling when you heard his voice, a soothing force after the stress of the night. “It’s me.” 

“What’s wrong?” Eddie snapped on the other end, not missing a beat. “What happened? You alright?” 

“I’m… I’m at The Hideout.” You cupped your hand over the phone’s end, trying to muffle the loud music. “I just- Can you come get me?” 

“I’m on my way.” Eddie didn’t miss a beat. 

“Thank you,” You sighed in relief. “But, hey, don’t bring the kids. Please? I told them I was going out with Rob for a night out, and they’ll want to see her.” 

“I won’t, sweetheart. They’re asleep anyways.” Eddie muttered. You could hear his keys rattling in the background. “Let me call Wheeler and see if he can pop over to watch them. I think he’s home for the summer. Gimme a few and I’ll be right there.” 

“Thank you.” You whispered, nose burning with tears you couldn’t shed- you wouldn’t shed. Not again. 

“C’mon, not a problem.” Eddie waved you off gently. “Hang tight, baby. Be there soon.” 

You waited until you heard the dial line to hang up. Your heart sunk and fluttered at the same time, head reeling with a tornado of emotions that left you dizzy. Sinking onto an open stool at the end of the bar, you ordered a beer, the same one Eddie had ordered you years before. You didn’t care much for the taste now, your palette had grown and expanded since you were fifteen. But something tonight had you craving it, maybe craving the memory, the feeling that came with the first time you drank it. Chasing down a nostalgia that you didn’t want tainted. 

Eddie was there before you could finish your second beer, only a few sips in. He slid into the chair beside you, hand gliding over your shoulder in greeting. He started to lean in, lips moving to brush your cheek, but he stopped himself before he could, waving down the bartender instead. 

“So,” Eddie tapped the sticky wood top of the bar. “Bad date?” 

“The worst.” You muttered, taking another swig of your beer. “Guy was a total ass.” 

“Yeah?” Eddie’s jaw ground tight, flexing with protective anger. “You want me to kill him?” 

You snorted, lips curling in a small grin. “No, he’s not worth that.” You hummed, propping your head in your hand. “He was just an asshole. A total fucking asshole.” 

“What’d he say?” Eddie bit, hands buzzing, though he tried to play it cool. 

“Oh, the usual- teen mom, divorced, so clearly I’m the biggest loser in the world.” You muttered, lip jutting in a pout, looking down at the ring of condensation left behind by your beer. 

“He said that?” Eddie snapped, eyes widening in a crazed way you hadn’t seen in a while. “Fucking piece of shit, I’ll beat the dogwalking shit out of him-” 

“-No, he didn’t. He didn’t say it like that.” You shook your head, placing a calming hand on his arm. “It was implied. He was… He was just not nice, and I felt like it was getting worse, so I left. Came here instead.” 

Eddie nodded, the tension between the two of you a little uncomfortable. The bartender slid him his own beer, saving the two of you from the awkward silence. Eddie took his beer, tilting it toward you with a soft smile. 

“That guys a fucking idiot. Doesn’t know what he’s missed out on.” Eddie’s lips were tight in a pain-filled smile he tried to force, but his eyes gave him aways. They always gave him away. 

“Thanks.” You muttered, cheeks burning with a tingling heat. “How were the kids tonight?” 

“Good.” Eddie nodded, swallowing his drink. “Jude found a centipede. Lucy was not a fan.”

You grinned. “I don’t blame her. You didn’t let him bring it in?” 

“No. C’mon,” Eddie scoffed lightly. “No, I made him leave it outside. He wanted to keep it in his bug catcher, but I told him if it was meant to be his, it would stay. So he put it back in the grass.” 

“Good. I’ll come looking for you if I see a centipede in the house.” You glared at him playfully. “Did you give them a bath?” 

“Dinner, bath, even read them a story.” Eddie smirked at you. “I can be a good dad, sometimes, ya know. Not a total deadbeat all the time.” He teased, shoulder bumping with yours. 

Your stomach twisted. “I didn’t- I didn’t mean it like that. I’m sorry.” You muttered, looking back at your beer. 

“I was kidding.” Eddie said, setting his beer down. “Hey, I was just kidding. I know you’re just looking out for the munchkins, Mama.” 

You swooned under his cooing praise, heart swelling with adoration. “I didn’t- I would never say you’re a bad dad. You’re not a bad dad, Eddie.” You met his gaze. “You’re the best dad to them.” 

Eddie’s cheeks pinkened under your praise, chin ducking with a blush. “Thank you,” He whispered, fingers tapping the bar top. “Just a shitty husband then?” 

You rolled your eyes lightly. “No,” You clicked your tongue playfully. “Not a shitty husband. Not all the time anyways.”

Eddie grinned, dimples deep, eyes brightening. “You had your good moments.” 

“Yeah?” Eddie hummed, leaning in towards you. “Like when?” 

You’re body burned, electric tingles shooting to your core. The look in his eyes, squinting just barely, lips pursing, tongue rolling over his teeth- a look you were all too familiar with. You knew better, knew so much better than to let him sway you, to give into your urges. 

“Hm, I can think of a few times.” You purred, leaning in closer to him, lashes batting sweetly. “Maybe you could remind me?” 

Eddie’s wide grin stood the test of time. The same wild, excited grin he’d give you years ago hadn’t changed, it still left you spinning, abandoning your better judgment, following him with blinders into anything. 

“Christ, I fuckin’ missed you.” Eddie moaned, breathy and quiet, lips pressing to yours in fever. 

You shuddered under his touch, his fingers circling your clit perfectly, expertly- he was, after all, been with you for so long, he knew exactly how you wanted it. The house was quiet, the drone of the TV on for background noise, hoping the kids wouldn’t wake up. 

“Eddie,” You whispered, eyes rolling back, clawing his shoulder at a particularly perfect rub that had you seeing stars. “Fuck, that felt good.” 

“Yeah? Feels good. I can always make you feel good, sweetheart.” Eddie muttered, wet smooches trailing down your neck, down your collarbones. “Want me to make you feel better? Keep you feelin’ good? Lemme make you feel good.” 

His hands moved, pushing down your dress. Eddie looked, trying to will his mind silent at the sight of your matching, lacy set. It drove Eddie to his knees to see you in it, but his heart dropped knowing you hadn’t picked it to wear it for him. 

He shoved the lacy panties down, letting them pool at your ankles, hands sinking on your hips. You wiggled, stilling your hips to keep them from bucking when Eddie kissed your mound, teasing kisses all the way down to your slit. 

“Spread your legs f’me.” Eddie’s breath ghosted over your skin, a half grin spreading across his features when you kicked your legs open, arching forward for him. 

Eddie’s tongue ran teasingly over your left lip, your right, before licking a long stripe right through your wet folds. In the past, he would have teased you, toyed with you until you whined and begged for him to fuck you. Back when he used to have you whenever he wanted, he’d lived for that, but now, he didn’t have that luxury. He had to make the most of his time now, at your call, at your service. 

You bit your fist, trying to swallow back a moan that threatened to tear out of your throat. Your vibrator, tucked away in your sock drawer, could never replace this- replace him. His touch, the rush of endorphins that came from the pleasure he gave you, always eager to please. 

Finger raking through his curls, you tugged him further and further into you, hips grinding on his face. “Th-That’s it. That feels good.” You whispered. 

Eddie moaned, sending waves of vibrations to your core, knees buckling under the feeling. Your breath caught, head tipping back to silence the moans, ripples of pleasure crashing over you. 

“Okay, okay, stop.” You panted, pushing on the top of his head, trying to writhe out of his touch. 

Eddie’s face fell in hurt, in fear, scanning your features. He knew it was coming, the inevitable that you’d change your mind, tell him you couldn’t do this. “I-I need you.” His heart leapt at your words. “I just need you right now, please.” 

It felt like a dream, having you wrapped around him in every way. Buried inside you, Eddie tried to savor the feeling, really feel you in case this was the last time. Your legs tight around his hips, arms around his shoulders, pulling him into you as he fucked you into the mattress- into the bed that you both shared for so many years. 

Your nails clawed down his back, biting at his shoulder to keep yourself quiet, toes curling in pleasure. Eddie’s hand slid between the two of you, circling your clit as he approached his own orgasm. He knew you were close, knew everything about you. 

“Fuck, you feel so fuckin’ good. The best, the fuckin’ best, baby.” Eddie whispered, breath hot over your ear, nipping at your ear lobe. Your body shuddered, hips bucking with pleasure. 

“Fuckin’ missed you. Missed you- ah.” Eddie whined, nearly cumming when your teeth bit his shoulder, the spark of pain making his slops get sloppier and sloppier. 

Eddie’s lips moved to yours, biting your bottom lip, sucking on it while his fingers slid over your clit until you were shaking, flooding over his length. Your grip loosened, melting into the mattress as he finished, drilling into you. 

“Fuck, feel so good. Fuckin’ love the way you feel.” Eddie looked down at you, eyes glassy and dazed from your own orgasm, lips bitten from him. 

A final pump, a final grunt, and he was spilling inside you, hips still slowly rolling inside you, dropping his face into your neck. You held him tight, muffling his moans into your skin. “I love you, I love you, I love you.” Eddie rambled, chest to chest, heaving and clinging to the other. 

A feeling settled around the two of you after you broke apart, laying side by side under the sheets, the house still, quiet, filled with a tension you couldn’t quite figure out. 

“I’m sorry you had a shitty date.” Eddie muttered, voice a little raspy. 

“‘S alright.” You sighed, stretching under the sheets. “Ended pretty good, all things considered.” 

“Yeah it did.” Eddie grinned softly. “Missed you.” 

Your heart ached, sinking in your chest. “I-I think you just missed having sex.” 

“No,” Eddie said firmly, shaking his head. “No, I-I missed you. I missed this, us.” He rolled over, turning towards you. 

“Eddie-” 

“-No, I just- I’m sorry, and I know I was a dick, and I-I did some things, but, baby, we’re good. We’re so good together.” Eddie whispered, reaching for you. “We’re meant to be together. You know we are. It’s always been us, it’s always supposed to be us.” 

“We’re not good together.” You pressed your lips together, shaking your head. “We’re not good for each other.” 

“Don’t say that.” Eddie’s eyes shined with hurt, shaking his head. “How-How can you say that-” 

“-Because, we’re good now. Right now, but… but then it’ll be just like it was, and we’ll be right back to fighting.” You pressed your palms to your eyes, chest tightening with the post orgasm clarity, the realization of your mistake. You’d never learn your lesson, no matter how many times you’d go through this. 

“Baby, we could go back to counseling. I just- We should try. I want to try, I want to be a family again. I want to be better this time. I promise I’ll be better this time, please.” Eddie reached for your hand, pulling them off your eyes. “Please, sweetheart, one more chance? I won’t… I won’t fuck it up.” 

You squeezed his hand, body aching, yearning to lean into him. To agree, to nod and let him love on you, love you. To give him another chance, to see him wake up in the bed next to you, back in the house with the kids all the time. 

But you couldn’t. 

For them. Jude and Lucy had a hard enough time with the divorce, understanding why you two were separating. How did you explain to kids that mommy and daddy were like the weather; good some days, disastrous the other? 

“I-I can’t, Eddie.” You whispered, looking at him with eyes shining. “Jude and Lucy…That’s not- This isn’t good for them.” Your breath shuttered, heart breaking in your chest. 

Eddie’s own heart was breaking, you could see it on his face. “I just need time. I don’t know.” You admitted, swallowing around the lump in your throat. “But now, I just can’t now.” 

Eddie nodded, swallowing around his own heart breaking. “Alright,” He nodded. “Whatever you decide, I’ll… I’ll always support you. I’ll always love you, too. No matter what.” 

Your lip wobbled, squeezing his hand tight in yours. “Thank you.” You whispered. “I just need some time, Eddie.” 

“I’ve got time. I’ll wait.” Eddie nodded, pressing a kiss to your knuckles gently. “Always here for you.” He pulled you close to him, arms wrapped around your frame, squeezing you tight to his chest. 

For a moment, you relaxed, let yourself feel at peace as he held you. Allowed yourself that selfishness in the still of the night. You’d stay like that for a while, until you sent him to the couch. “Things are confusing as it is for them. They don’t need to get their hopes up if they see us in the bed together.” And Eddie would do it, of course he would. He’d do it for you, for them, for the hope that he might one day get his family back to normal. Back to the way it should be. 

[nariism]

*ੈ✩ LAST WORDS OF A SHOOTING STAR

pair. itadori yuji x reader

synopsis. in the 3 days following the shibuya incident, itadori yuji emerges as a husk of his former self. with his immediate execution resumed, you both grapple with the feelings you have for each other and come to terms with his impending death.

content. hurt/comfort (lots of comfort, thank art because i was gonna be mean about this and they convinced me not to), slightly canon divergent (taking place between shibuya and the culling games), fluff and minor angst, yuta is the best wingman

wc. ~4.4k

NOVEMBER 1 2018

You imagine that your face was rather ghastly when you received the news.

"Execution?" You repeated, the word tasting bitter on your tongue. No, that was the wrong description. It tasted of death—like iron and the depths of Hell filling your mouth until you were gurgling on it.

Unlike the rest of the Jujutsu Sorcerers from Tokyo, you had been ordered to stay back with Shoko in case of an emergency. You remember your exile from battle had left a similar rotten flavour in your mouth.

You vanished off the face of the earth after the incident was over. Most probably presumed you died in the aftermath. Devoured by a curse, they would say and shake their heads. You were always troublesome. And then they would move on with the rest of the world, all the same.

Lives were only temporary in the world of curses. Focus on who you can save, not who is already gone. They'll only end up a curse in your sleep. What a horrible notion to have.

The truth is that you'd been whisked away with Yuta, who seemed to be scheming a plan of his own. Perhaps as a middle finger to the higher ups he hated so much, or perhaps just for his own selfish reasons. You wouldn't know until he was finished carrying it through—he's too good at keeping secrets.

He wanted your reverse cursed technique, you knew that much for sure, even though he could do it himself. You were useful by his side, fitting into his plot in a way you could not in Shibuya. Feeling some sort of obligation and satisfaction, you followed him like a lost puppy.

And now here you are, seated by a dimming fire in the abandoned part of the city. Yuta was too clever for his own good. You suppose Gojo taught him some things well. This was their plan after all.

Yuji was safe, if only for this moment in time.

"Now with Gojo gone, it would have been easy for the higher ups to send assassins your way."

Ruthless and truthful, you flinch, but Yuji does not. He remains perfectly still in your hold, with your hands rotating his face around to get a better look at his wounds. You pour your cursed energy into him, hoping to breathe life back into his eyes, but they stay dull and empty.

"We'll find a way to stop this," you assure, reaching over to take a sanitizing wipe to clean an open cut. Yuta was too rough on him, but it was at least believable that Yuji was dead. He doesn't even recoil from the alcohol stinging his flesh, too engrossed in his own thoughts.

"Why?" He asks weakly. You gawk at him, but then it melts away into a softness that finally makes him blink up at you. "I'm evil."

"You're not evil, Yuji."

"I am. I killed those people. I did." His voice comes flat and defeated, nothing like the one you used to listen to over dinner while he reenacted shitty western films.

You never realize what you'll miss until it's gone. It's hollow, the ache in your heart.

"You don't understand. How could you? All this blood on my hands—"

"It was Sukuna," you quickly refute.

"And Sukuna only lives because I do!"

His voice raises at you, causing the flames behind you to flicker and crack. It's enough for Yuta to step in, acting as a barrier between your tense bodies. Yuji seems to shrink at this, realizing his emotions have run amok and that he has yelled at you.

You only stare back at him in bewilderment, like a frightened animal. Your upperclassman shakes his head.

"Enough of this. We need to start making plans."

You lay awake that night, alone and anxious. Yuta has taken the first shift of watching and patrolling while the two of you rest, though hesitant to leave you alone. He told you it’s another reason he dragged you along: having three people to rotate shifts instead of just two would be easier on your bodies and minds. The city is not what it used to be, now overrun with curses of all grades.

You reassured him it would be fine, that you would fall asleep quickly and so would Yuji—his body has to run out of steam eventually, right? Oh, what a fool you were.

The tension is so heavy that it's awkward, even though you're sleeping on opposite ends of the tunnel.

"Sleep," you demand as if you were Inumaki, like you have the power to curse him.

His eyes flutter open. Even in the firelight, you don't see any shine in them, seeming as if they had been extinguished of life. "Why don't you?"

"I can't until you do."

"That's stupid," he tells you.

It's not the first time you've argued like this. Back when the world felt right, you would sneak in through his dorm window well into the hours of the night. Platonic, you had convinced yourself. You snuck into his bed seeking companionship as a friend. That's the lie you gorged on.

A piece of you knew, and you're sure he did too, that the way your hands explored his arms was unnatural for two friends, and that friends wouldn't sneak into each other's rooms like this with such severe punishment on the line.

It was safe in his arms, with the dull hum of his television running an old horror film in the background. You didn't have to think about much other than his warmth when you sat between his legs with your back to his chest. Or when his arm was draped over your shoulder and you were pressed into his side—actually, you think you preferred this one though you felt sorry for his sore arm.

You would bicker about dumb, pointless things. Which movie is better, or which character deserved to be mutilated more. It would go on for so long that Megumi would bang his fist on their shared wall to get the two of you to shut up.

There was no curse strong enough to change time itself, so you keep your thoughts and memories to yourself when you respond.

"You'll be too tired to function on your shift," you reason.

"You both will be fine without me." Better off without me, you know he means. You've gotten good at reading between his lines.

You slowly sit up in your sleeping bag, eyes never leaving Yuji. He seems so frail right now, even though he looks more adult than he ever has before.

"Human Earthworm 4 was better than 2," you suddenly say. His eyes peer open again in confusion.

"Huh? 2 was way better."

"I liked the love story in 4," you argue, slowly getting out of your bag to shuffle to his side of the concrete tunnel. He looks at you as if you've said something outlandish, too preoccupied with his thoughts to wonder why you've come so close.

"2 had the best special effects though."

Your body shifts under his blanket.

"But 4 had a happier ending." (As far as 'happy' goes in the Human Earthworm series, at least.)

His arm falls around your waist as it has a hundred times, pulling you into his chest.

"Whatever," he huffs. The next topic comes fast and you're thrown into a full blown conversation with him. If you concentrate enough, you can imagine your bodies being tangled together in his bed, safe and sound.

Concrete and fire and the stench of curses melt away until he's all you can focus on.

"You have weird taste in movies," he concludes with his eyes drifting shut.

NOVEMBER 2 2018

You think you know how to fix broken people until you find that they are more than skin and bones. 

You learn one thing after the Shibuya Incident: there are wounds residing within Yuji just as much as there are marking his flesh.

Yuta, you realize, had left the two of you alone to sleep and has protected you all night. You'll make it up to him, you reason. Yuji deserved to sleep.

When you wake up to his sleeping face, you think his cuts are healing nicely. But then his expression twists up in terror—a nightmare, if he even had enough energy left in him to conjure up dreams. He murmurs in his sleep, shakes his head a few times and thrashes around so much you're surprised you slept through the night by his side.

"Sukuna," he's whispering. Sukuna, Sukuna, Sukuna. King of Curses. The second voice tormenting him that lives in his own brain like a parasite. You bury yourself into his chest and hold him as tight as you can. He relaxes, body releasing its rigid form, but the murmurs continue.

He is shattered beyond repair. No amount of cursed energy could fix that, even if you tried.

You had once watched Yuji electrocute himself trying to set up the janky old television in his dorm room.

He fell back onto the floor with a loud crash, head hitting the wood so hard you thought he might have a concussion. It caused such a racket that Megumi came running into the room asking what happened, demon dog ready behind him in case of an ambush.

You rushed to the floor, discarding all the food you had settled in your lap and crumbled beside him to scoop him into your arms.

"Yuji!" You called him. People rarely used his first name. You felt special, like you knew him better than others did and for some reason that was a privilege. "Are you okay?"

He laughed in your arms, seeming unfazed by the fact that electricity had run through every vein in his body. "I'm fine, see? My finger just slipped."

You and Megumi both sighed in relief, though you always thought it was strange when you reflected on it. Yuji was a funny guy, yes. He was equal parts humour and destruction but not a klutz. Mistakes happen, so you let it slide until now, but some part of you was nagging to ask.

"That day," you start while rolling up your sleeping bag. "You electrocuted yourself. Remember?"

He looks at you funny over his shoulder. Yuta has already started cracking open cans of food for breakfast, embers of your dead fire cracking.

"Hmm, yeah. I remember. Why?"

"I just thought..." you trail off. "Well, Sukuna makes you tough to a lot of things. I'm surprised small electric shocks aren't one of them."

Sukuna. A name you'd been avoiding since this morning. Sickening silence settles between you. It's so heavy that you pause in your cleaning to look at him, brow raised.

"Yeah," he coughs. "Well, maybe I exaggerated."

"Huh?" You sound annoyed now. "You scared us half to death!"

Yuji only falters in his own chores. When he looks at you again, there's a longing in his gaze that you don't know how you could have missed. Or perhaps it was never there until now.

"It was nice to have you fawning over me," he admits.

The day goes on and all you feel is a terrible grief.

You become painfully aware of each millimeter the sun glides across the sky, from one horizon to the other. Time slips through your fingers fast as sand.

Horrifically, you can't find anything to talk about to fill the emptiness—Nobara and Megumi feel off the table considering the extent of their injuries. You don't even dare to breathe Gojo's name, let alone speak of him so boldly as Yuta is.

You're afraid that Yuji will spiral again, confused and unwilling to cooperate with his judgement clouded by loss. It's not your fault, you would say. It is, he would argue. It would do neither of you good, so you idle around while he and Yuta devise plans to tiptoe around the higher ups.

A part of you knows that if either of you told him to submit and die, he would. He's already teetering on the edge of self-destruction.

On the outside, he seems perfectly indifferent. Gaze steady, face stone and unchanging as he speaks. He's doomed, ill-fated, someone full of misfortune. He looks so lonely that the air itself parts for him where he stands.

To shoulder so much responsibility, so much death, maybe he truly is alone. Some fraction of him, at least—a piece of himself only he would ever understand.

Your hand snakes into his without a second thought. You don't know why you did it, nor do you have any reasoning that he doesn't yank away from you. His hand trembles, and it's then that you realize his whole body is wracked with tremors that don't match his distant disposition.

The second thing you learn is this: when Yuji self-destructs, he does it from the inside-out.

Itadori Yuji loves chocolate cake.

He loves all food, really, acting like your friend group's personal food dumpster whenever any of you were full. But chocolate cake you knew he had a sweet tooth for.

You used to bring it with you to his dorm, stopping by the convenience stores on the way home to grab a pre-packaged slice from the fridge for him to eat.

"You're making a mess," you would tell him with a frown, using your thumb to wipe up frosting from the corner of his mouth. You would lick the pad of your finger clean after that, and he would watch almost in a trance.

It's the reason why you stop on one of your patrols, poking through the fridge section of a convenience store. The power has been out for a long time in this part of the city, all the food is already room temperature, but you figure this is fine as long as it smells okay.

The way Yuji's face lights up when he sees you is all it takes for the worry to go away.

It briefly feels as though nothing has ever gone wrong—that after this slice of cake the two of you will tumble back onto his mattress and turn on another showing of Titanic. (He groaned about it once, saying he got KO'd too many times during this film. You only laughed in confusion.)

At the end of the day, you know those days will never come back to you, lost forever in the wind.

Fire dances before you and you watch, enchanted by the flames. You remember last night, how not even the firelight could make Yuji look the same as he did before. You turn your head to look at him, to see if it's any different tonight, just for your cheek to be caught in his palm.

His thumb traces your lip, the way you used to do to him. You recognize the pull of his finger against your flesh, the swipe of it to get frosting off, but he still seems dissatisfied.

"What?" You ask.

"It didn't come off," he mutters, leaning in dangerously close to observe. Heat rises all the way to your cheeks and makes your hairs stand on end. His touch is like molten lava. You wonder if it has something to do with the monster living inside of him.

"I can't see it," you whine without a mirror.

He draws a little closer, until he's inches from your face. "Let me..."

You've suddenly been dropped into cold, unknown waters. This is all unfamiliar. He's rushing this, as if making up for all the time the two of you lost pretending you were only friends. As if he can cram all the things he's wanted to tell you into one night.

Recoiling away, you find yourself hesitating. If he kisses you, this all becomes too real. It's an acknowledgment of his impending death. That the thread of his life is finer and further stretched than yours is.

An unpleasant thought rings through your mind. What if I become a curse on him?

"This only ends badly for us," you whisper, but the conviction is missing from your voice.

He doesn't care. At least, it doesn't look like he does. Who knows what he's thinking right now?

"Who cares?" He says. "We're Jujutsu Sorcerers. Everything bad happens to us no matter what."

You don't have any rebuttal to that, no argument that forms in your mind that could challenge his words. He was right. Only disaster befalls Sorcerers. Disaster and grief.

For a while you had forgotten, living these idyllic months watching the days pass by. You feel like you wasted that precious time worrying about stupid things, like what to have for breakfast or what kind of snacks you should pick up for movie night.

(It ended up being popcorn every time. He liked to piss off Sukuna with it, saying the King of Curses would never get to experience the pleasure of picking out kernels from his teeth. You scoffed but bought it anyway.)

Another thought crosses your mind: Yuji is more fit to be in a rom-com, or a television series where the good guys always win. Not this tragedy. Not this massacre.

You wonder if he's ever felt the same way. If he ever wished he could reach into the sky and turn the sun back to a time before he even knew what a curse was.

If you’d met each other under different circumstances, would this have been a different story? The thought makes your heart ache, a part of you so deep that even if you reached into your chest and plucked it, you'd still wail.

"Can I?" He asks you, eager but quiet. Had this been a few months ago, you imagine that he would have had this spark in his eye. That his lips would be crashing into yours with no inhibition.

But Yuji has always been selfless, you think he always will be. He doesn't want to drag you down if you don't want to—an out, they call it. An escape route just before he careens into a ditch.

Hope has drained from every inch of his expression. This is his loneliness talking.

Despite the dread that licks up your spine, you cup his face. You swear he jolts slightly beneath your touch, as if you've reached out to strike him down. A retribution he believes he deserves.

He kisses you like it's his last day on earth. 

You learn one last thing: Itadori Yuji tastes familiarly of death.

Yuta decides to leave you alone for a second night in a row. His presence is so crushing that you know he's alive, but he stalks off somewhere else, leaving just you and Yuji huddled by the pitiful fire you've built.

He once claimed himself jokingly to be a love expert, and then ran off to Kenya for so long that you lost track of how much time passed. You wish you'd asked him before he left what he meant, but at the time it seemed irrelevant. Insignificant. The name Itadori Yuji had not yet been impressed into your heart like a seal.

You're busy setting up the sleeping bags, this time pushing them flush together. They're so close you can barely see the seam between them. Yuji stands on the other side of the fire, watching.

It reminds him of all the times you'd ever scolded him for not making his bed in the morning. I'm gonna crawl back in tonight anyway, he said. Who cares if it's messy?

Idiot, you would call him. But there was no malice behind it. He treated it like a pet name, a badge of honour to be your idiot.

Life felt so simple back then. He was full of determination and life and stuck to his morals as best he could. When he wavered he would text you to come over so you could fall asleep on his chest and suffocate any other thoughts out of his head.

"I've never felt so powerful before," he admits quietly.  You turn to look at him, curious. "Like I could do anything in the world."

There's a negative connotation to that, you know. He could do anything. The world would crumble at his feet and there he would stand, laughing at it all. It isn't his will, not even slightly, but the demon taking refuge in his body would love to see the blood pool.

"Like I could just... reach out and—"

"Yuji!" You hiss, lurching forward to take his hand into yours and retreat from the flame. The skin is already pink and blistering, scorched by the embers. You twist his wrist around, observing where the fire licked the deepest, and pour your energy into him.

When you look up to see if he's crying, or at least grimacing in pain, you find only his smiling face—warm and adoring. For a second it feels like the world isn't burning around you.

It was nice to have you fawning over me.

You wipe that stupid smirk off his face, leaning in to smear a kiss along the scar on his lip.

"Idiot," you say, and he laughs for the first time in so long that it sounds foreign in your ears.

(He doesn't fall asleep that night. He would rather savour the sound of your soft snores, memorize the form of your body in his hold, and try his hardest to burn this into his brain.

So be it if you come to curse him one day. He would welcome you with open arms.)

NOVEMBER 3 2018

The day comes when Megumi sneaks into your hideout, asking for help.

His sister, he explains. He needs help saving Tsumiki. For some reason, resentment boils in your stomach, but then it's snuffed just as fast.

Two days and two nights you've spent pretending Japan isn't collapsing, content with sitting idly by as curses overran Tokyo. You're sure Megumi thought you to be cowards, that you were all hiding under this bridge to wait out the hellstorm that was raining down on your homes.

It was true to some extent. Once Yuji stepped out into battle again, that was that. You're not sure things would ever be the same again, though you suppose you lost the privilege of routine days ago.

"Let me come too," you urge. Three pairs of eyes land on you.

"No," Yuji pushes. "It's dangerous."

"I can fight!"

"You can't," he pauses, then corrects himself, "You won't."

Awkward silence settles over your encampment. Yuta stirs, standing to hold you steady by the shoulders.

"If we need help... if one of us is hurt, we'll need you unharmed. Do you understand?"

Ah, ever so wise, your upperclassman. So easy to persuade you. There's a reason why he's the chosen one only second to Gojo.

You swallow the bile that fights up your throat. "What if you don't come back?"

Yuji steps in this time, knocking away Yuta to hold you by the face. Get a grip, this means. Pull yourself together, don't you dare fall apart in front of me.

"We will."

You once considered telling him how you felt, letting it eat away at you until Nobara groaned in disgust.

“If Itadori starts dating before I do, I’ll puke.���

You remember that you laughed, thinking she was so dramatic. You loved that about her. “I think you would do worse.”

She glared at you, foot lightly kicking at your shin under the table. Still, she made sure to push equal amounts of rice to your side of the plate. “I might burn a village down,” she huffed, placing her chin on her palm.

“You’re fine. Even if I told him how I feel, I don’t think he’d accept.”

“Huh?” Nobara sounded genuinely confused, raising a brow at you. “What makes you think that?”

You didn't know how to answer that. Maybe you were just afraid that you had misinterpreted everything, that the way he held you was protective in a familial manner and that he would slam his door in your face when you tried.

Looking back on it, you can imagine him in the next room ranting about the same things to Megumi.

“He still has posters of Jennifer Lawrence on his wall,” you argued weakly while shoveling rice into your spoon. She watched you take your bite with her lips parted in disbelief.

You wish you had told him, then. Not that it would have changed where you both ended up.

You watch as they pack up their things.

Megumi's demon dog keeps you quiet company, tail thrashing against the ground as you slick back its fur. They talk around the dying flames, devising plan after plan. None seem safe. None would be.

Yuta and Megumi leave first, taking the lead in front of the pack. His dog melts into the shadows and disappears, leaving you sitting alone.

"I want to take you back, but..." Yuji glances over his shoulder toward his death sentence. "Will you make it okay on your own?"

You get up slowly, as if to draw out the time he stands before you. A thousand questions run through your head: what if you never see him again? What if this kills him, not by body, but by his already damaged soul?

He must sense the racing of your mind, so he leans in to engulf you in his arms. In an instant, memories of those days spent lounging in his bed, shoveling your food onto his plate, and purposefully talking louder to tease Megumi come flooding.

A year you would never forget. You're sure it'll become a curse if you dwell, so you tell him: "I'll make it. You go on, they need you."

I need you, too. Stay. If only it were so simple.

He smiles at you, warm like the sun that's hidden behind the barrier. Itadori Yuji looks like a ghost of his former self, battle-worn and covered in scars where his skin used to be smooth. He kisses you again for good measure, making sure he remembers the way you sigh into his mouth.

When he pulls away, there's life gleaming in his eyes.

"Let's watch Human Earthworm 5 when I come back."

Your thumb brushes the corner of his lip. You open your mouth to speak, to finally tell him the truth after all this time. You'd rather not die regretting you never said it, after all.

But you stop.

"I prefer Titanic," you confess. He shakes his head and kisses your forehead. Then he’s gone, taking all the warmth with him.

You'll make up for lost time one day. It won’t be today. You can tell him all about your feelings when he comes back to you.

© ALABOADOA 2023 — please do not translate or post my works to other platforms.

[katyaromanoffpetrova]

Is this the end? (part I)

Katya is new at SHIELD. When she messes up during her probation, she thinks Fury will send her away. To ease the pain, she distances herself from Nat.

• Natasha Romanoff x Fem!OC • Wordcount: 2.6k • Warnings: angst, mentions of self-harm (not detailed) •A/N: I couldn't fit everything into one post, so there will be a part two in a few day's time :) Masterlist

Do not repost my work as your own or translate my work!!

2007

The Triskelion slowly emerged in the distance. Tall, massive, impressive. A building fit for a strong organization like SHIELD. A statement to scare off their enemies.

It used to intimidate Katya too, back when she worked for that enemy. All Hydra agents were warned to stay far away from SHIELD HQ, unless they wanted to die. 

But in the past few months, it had amazingly become her safe space. A place where she could breathe for the first time in her life. A place she eagerly returned to.

Not right now, though. 

On this sunny, late afternoon in cold November, Katya dreaded landing the Quinjet on the flight deck and getting out. Her hands shook as she pressed the buttons and flipped the switches, forcing her breathing to stay normal so the SHIELD agent in the co-pilot seat wasn't alerted of her anxiety. 

She failed her mission. She messed up. Badly. She let Fury down. 

And she was still on probation. 

Her boss was very clear; make one mistake and she's out. And Fury always meant what he said. Always.

Katya didn't think she could keep going if she was kicked out of the one place that showed her kindness. If she was forced to say goodbye to the love of her life once more. 

That was the worst of it all; her failure would come back on Natasha. Natasha who was responsible for her. Natasha who promised Fury that Katya was fit for duty. Natasha who had faith in her to become a better person.

Not only had Katya let herself, the safety of the world, and her boss down, she had disappointed the woman she loved. And that stung more than anything.

The Quinjet barely wobbled as it touched the ground—at least she could do one thing right—and Katya helped her co-pilot with the shutdown procedure before lifting her heavy body out of the pilot seat. 

She didn't want to go out there. As long as she was in the jet, she was safe from being fired. Or she could pretend that she was safe, at least. So Katya took her sweet time collecting her things, triple checking that the Quinjet was ready for its next use before reluctantly making her way outside. 

Her anxiety was miles high as she crossed the flight deck. She felt like a pig being led to the slaughter. Every step of her booted feet took more effort than the last. Katya kept her gaze ahead and avoided the scared agents that jumped out of her way, refusing to let them see the fear in her eyes. 

She thought about running. It was her first instinct after she managed to escape her mission earlier today. It shouldn't have taken her fifteen minutes to decide to call in a SHIELD pickup, but it did, and she felt so ashamed about it. 

That part of her life was supposed to be over. Done. But it tempted her like a line of coke tempted a drug addict. 

Being on the run, being alone, it was so much easier. The only responsibilities she had were to herself. The only person she could disappoint was herself. If she messed up on a shady deal, they would be hunting her for a while, but only her. 

Having people who counted on her was harder than she thought it would be. Emotions were harder than she thought they would be. Her default setting was to isolate and be alone. To run when things were bad.

But she wouldn't take the easy way out this time. She refused to. With a deep inhale, Katya stepped inside the building.

To her surprise, nothing happened. She expected some agent to materialize and take her to Fury, or for people to stare and gossip about her failure. She had even imagined Natasha standing there, a disappointed frown on her face. But life inside SHIELD HQ went on as usual. They barely spared her a glance.

Without further hesitation, Katya mixed with the group heading for the elevators. Maybe if she blended in, she could hide and avoid having her soul broken for a little longer. Maybe, if she was fast enough, she could make it to her room and hide from Natasha as long as possible. 

The agents around her should know how hard her heart pounded as they shuffled away from her. How scared she was. It could be the last time they saw her face. It could be her last day in this building. Her last time riding this elevator. 

Katya's throat closed up. The tiny room suddenly felt extremely crowded. Panic pressed on her lungs. When she arrived at her floor, she bumped some shoulders in her rush to get out. As soon as she crashed through her apartment door, she sank to the floor, shaking.

The silence inside her apartment was terrible. The thoughts in her head sounded ten times as loud in the silence. They were overwhelming. The angry voices screamed at her, calling her a failure, a loser, that she would be better off dead.

She wrapped her arms around her knees in search of comfort. Comfort that she didn't deserve from anyone else.

How did she manage to mess up this badly? The mission Fury gave her was so simple, nothing she hadn't done before. Infiltrate a Hydra building—one Katya had marked as one—and steal some information. In and out. 

But somehow, they spotted her. Katya still didn't know how. She knew nobody could have heard her, or seen her. But the alarms went off and all the exits were blocked. She was trapped with no way out.

It took her locking herself into a room and hotwiring one of the alarm boxes on the walls, to lift the blockades and escape. She ran for five miles through the hills and hid before calling a SHIELD jet to pick her up. 

Now they had seen her face, knew she worked for SHIELD, knew their facility was compromised, and knew what information they were after.

It was the worst thing she could have ever done. She might as well have sent them an email. Fury would not be taking this lightly. 

Katya only noticed she was hyperventilating when someone slammed a door shut down the hall that made her jump. 

She felt ridiculous, rocking back and forth like a baby on the floor of her apartment, but it was her apartment, her safe space. She felt in her bones that she started to belong here, that this was where she should be. So it hurt a million times more, knowing she herself was the reason she would lose it all.

Katya sat on the floor for hours, digging her nails into her arms until welts started to form. Only when dusk set in did she pick herself off the floor, exhausted and covered in cold sweat. Nobody had come to check on her. 

She did her coming-home routine on autopilot. Shower, unpack, turn on her phone that she couldn't take with her on the mission, eat something—even though her stomach was in knots and she felt nauseous.

She had four missed texts from Natasha, each more worried than the last.

Nat (3:44 PM): Welcome back. Hope the mission went according to plan :)

Nat (3:46 PM): Are you okay?

Nat (4:18 PM): Can't get out of this meeting, so I can't check in. Can you let me know if you're alright?

Nat (5:52 PM): I hope you fell asleep. Dinner later? My last meeting ends at 7. If I don't hear anything from you, I'm taking it as a yes.

Guilt started to pile up on Katya's shoulders. She couldn't tell Natasha what happened. She couldn't handle letting her down. She couldn't handle breaking her heart. She couldn't handle having her own heart broken again.

Katya left the messages unanswered. Maybe Natasha would take that as a sign to not come and find her later. 

She didn't. When she showed up at 7 PM and knocked on the door, Katya pretended to be asleep. She stayed "asleep" for the rest of the night and never answered the texts in the morning.

This streak of avoidance continued throughout the week. Katya woke up earlier on purpose, so she finished breakfast right when Natasha walked into the cafeteria. She changed her workout schedule from early mornings to the late evenings to avoid Natasha, who trained in the morning. She walked the other way when she saw Natasha in the hallway. She didn't answer texts, or answered very late. 

When Natasha did manage to talk to her long enough to make plans, Katya canceled them last minute with some lame excuse. 

It stung. It hurt every fiber of Katya's being to ignore Natasha like that. The woman didn't deserve it. She should be getting angry with her, but instead Katya triggered her insecurities too.

When she asked if Katya didn't want her around anymore, the blonde swore she heard her heart shatter.

But this was necessary. Even though Fury still hadn't called her in, Katya knew her exit from SHIELD was close. She needed to create a distance between herself and Natasha beforehand, so it would hurt less when that time came.

"Stop avoiding me."

It was lunchtime, Tuesday, and Natasha had finally managed to corner Katya. Literally. She'd grabbed her wrist in passing and forced her into a random supply closet in the hallway. Her body pressed Katya's against the wall, a fire in her green eyes.

"I'm not. I'm busy," Katya answered with a hint of annoyance, impatiently eyeing the door. She had places to be, people to avoid. 

"Don't lie to me," Natasha bit back, vulnerability in the back of her voice. "We're beyond that."

"Nat." Katya tried, avoiding her gaze at any cost. She didn't want to do this.

"What is going on? You better tell me right now," Natasha demanded.

Katya scowled. "Nothing. Let me go."

"Kat—"

"I said, let me go."

Slowly, Natasha stepped back, giving Katya enough space to escape. The brunette eagerly took advantage of that and slipped back into the hallway. They may not be in a good place, but they always respected each other's boundaries.

Natasha was at a complete loss. The only thing she knew was that everything changed after that mission. If she wanted to know why Katya was avoiding her, the key lay at that mission.

The problem was; her clearance wasn't high enough to get any information. She'd tried to get into the system, but it blocked her. The only thing left to try was going to the person who knew it all.

"I need to know what happened. And no confidentiality bullshit." 

Natasha stood in front of Fury's desk, her arms crossed over her chest. She was angry. At Katya, at herself, at the secrets. She was tired of the emotional rollercoaster, of being left in the dark. She wanted answers, now.

Fury lazily gazed up at her, unimpressed and calm. "It's simple. Petrova failed her mission."

A wave of nausea hit Natasha. Deep down, she wasn't surprised to hear this. She suspected something like this. But actually having it confirmed was something else. She, too, knew what it meant if Katya failed.

"Lots of us fail our missions."

"Correct. But we've also never had a Hydra deserter join us before," Fury said casually, reorganizing some folders on his desk.

Something clicked for Natasha. She didn't know the magnitude of the mission, or Katya's failure. But if Fury was this calm about it, and if Katya was still here, a week later, something else must be going on. As always, the Director of SHIELD had ulterior motives.

"You set her up," she realized with disgust. "You set her up to fail."

Fury didn't blink an eye at her accusation, only proving that she was right. "Only when they face death do people show their true faces."

Natasha boiled with anger, clenching her fists to keep herself contained. He really sent the woman she loved into a building full of hostiles just to prove her loyalty. "She could have died!"

"I knew she could get herself out of that situation."

Natasha had never felt as protective over someone as she did right now. "Katya doesn't deserve your mistrust. She's been loyal since she set foot inside this building. She hasn't lied about anything."

"Loyalty runs deep. We shouldn't underestimate her ties to her former employer."

Natasha swallowed back some nasty words. To call the Director of SHIELD an asshole was risky, even for her. Maybe especially for her.

"If your goal was to make her terrified of losing everything good she found, then you succeeded."

Fury sharply glanced up at her with his one good eye. "We are not a charity, Agent Romanoff. Petrova needs to understand that her stay here isn't guaranteed."

Natasha clenched her teeth together. What an outrageous way to prove a point. "If she has to go, I'm going with her. Just so you understand that too."

"Message received," Fury said dryly, returning his gaze to the desk. "Loud and clear."

A mess of emotions raged in her body as Natasha left his office and legged towards Katya's apartment. It was false hope that sent her there. Hope that her small, meaningless conversation with Fury would calm Katya down enough to talk to her. 

She was still furious at him. Furious for sending Katya into a trap, for mistrusting her, and for being the perfect director. She was angry because she couldn't be angry at him. In his position, it was a logical move to test Katya's loyalty.

But Natasha's love for the woman clouded her judgment. Funnily enough. 

"Open up." Her knocks were fast and impatient on Katya's door. "It's me, and I'm not leaving until you hear me out." She was determined this time, willing to kick the door in, now that she knew why Katya acted so strangely.

To her surprise, Katya opened the door. Her body shielded Natasha's wandering eyes from seeing her apartment. She had dark circles under her eyes, pale skin, and a slow way of moving about her. "What is it?"

Natasha pushed past her before Katya could stop her. It had been a while since she had been in the apartment, and what she saw broke her heart. "Why do you have everything packed?" Katya didn't answer. All her personal belongings were in bags. "You don't have to leave. It was a test. And I think you passed it."

Katya snapped her head up, her eyes suddenly wide awake. "How do you— Ты говорил с ним (You went and talked to him)?"

Natasha was taken aback by her sharp tone. "I—"

"мне не нужна няня (I don't need a babysitter)!" The brunette raised her voice. "I made a mistake during probation. He has every right to send me off, test or not!"

"But it's not a fair test if he set you up to fail!"

"That doesn't matter! Failing still isn't an option! Test or not!"

Natasha thought she would be easing Katya's mind. But the woman only saw failure, clouded by fear. Katya was too terrified to lose everything to think rationally. "You're being too hard on yourself," Natasha continued gently. "You're an amazing agent. All your other missions went perfectly."

Katya huffed, raising her arm to scratch her head. "You can save 20 people, but we both know you only remember the one you killed."

Natasha barely heard her words. When Katya lifted her arm, her short sleeve lifted enough to show red welts on her arms in the form of nails. Clearly self-inflicted. Pointedly, Natasha looked at that arm, the spots now carefully covered. "Nothing is worth doing that to yourself."

Katya watched her go with a broken look in her eyes.

[fangirlika]

I know it’s not November anymore but imagine

Charles wants to do NNN but fails after 4 days because reader teases him so much he literally gives up and ends up fucking her (🤭)

I Love your writing keep up 😽💋

omg omg omg okay but I see Charles would definitely make a stupid bet with like Pierre or Joris and I mean, of course, Pierre would lose eventually (“Tripod”) but god forbid Charles loses before him.

Nope, that couldn’t, happen. Wouldn’t happen.

At least that was his determination at the beginning of the month.

But Charles is also incredibly weak when it comes to you, that man can’t go days without having to have you in one way or another - how was he supposed to stay abstinent for a whole month?

It was doomed from

The beginning on but you were definitely not helping his situation at all. You were probably just as insatiable as he was. I mean, look at him-

You had told him it was a dumb idea but stubbornness got the better of him and he agreed to the challenge anyways. So, you had to take matters into your own hands in order to get him to fail.

It began with subtle touches that lingered a little more than necessary, you would wear his favorite clothes on purpose and also not hesitate to purposely get dressed and undressed when he was in the room.

You noticed his gaze on you, he even let out frustrated groans or started verbally complaining when he realized that he can’t act upon your teasing.

“You have a hard-on, love”, you would just say reluctantly with a smirk, pointing at his crotch area. “If I were you, I would maybe wait a couple more minutes before leaving the house…”

Charles had a hard time since the 1dt of November but by the time it was the 4th of the month, he was so frustrated and had so much pent up list that he couldn’t hold it in any longer.

His breaking point came when you would excuse yourself to “handle your lust on your own” “since he couldn’t do it” and he had watched you leave the living room to go get yourself off, without him being able to do the same.

He felt his pants get tighter just with the thought of you masturbating and at first he tried to not think about it, but failed miserably.

It was a matter of a minute that he bursted into your shared bedroom and practically jumped you at the sight of you naked on the bed.

“I knew this would be your final straw”, you whispered against his lips and pushed down his joggers with a smirk. Charles just let out a groan but didn’t dare to stop.

“You’re in for it now, chérie“, he just moaned out.

[sugrhigh]

HOTBOX - ( m.s )

part two

summary- matt finally decides to smoke with his best friends for the first time, and he finds that it’s impossible to keep his eyes off of you

warnings- drug use, swearing, tiny bit suggestive

bff!matt x fem!reader

a/n: WOOOO finally a real piece of writing! i hope u guys enjoy. will possibly do a part two but idk, so if you have requests just ask!

he can’t stop drumming his fingers against the wheel as he steers the car along, desperately trying to relax a little bit and focus on the music that’s blaring through the speakers.

chris sits beside him in the passenger seat, feet up on the dashboard as you guys speed toward your destination. he can hear you and nate conversing in the back, practically shouting at each other over the song.

the waterfront comes into view through his windshield a moment later, moonlight shimmering against the glassy surface. matt takes the next left, swerving across both lanes of traffic to pull into the deserted lot.

there’s nobody on the beach of course, considering it’s almost midnight in the middle of november. he throws the car into park and lowers the volume, shifting in his seat so he can actually see everyone.

“i think that’s the fastest i’ve ever seen you drive, grandpa.” you tease him, unbuckling so you can lean forward in your seat.

he rolls his eyes, though he never actually minds it when you’re the one chirping at him.

“you’re gonna wish it was me once nate gets behind the wheel, i promise.”

“wow, so i volunteer to stay sober and this is the thanks i get?” his friend asks, arms crossed over his chest defensively.

“thank you nate.” you reply in a sing-song voice.

“yeah, yeah. whatever.”

matt watches as you claw through your bag, finally digging out a small blue pouch after a few more seconds of searching.

the moment you unzip it, the all-too familiar smell of weed fills the interior of the car. chris cheers when he sees you pull out a perfectly packed joint, holding it in between your middle and pointer finger with precision.

“you know, it’s really upsetting that you can roll better than me.” nate shakes his head with a sigh.

“aw, you gonna cry about it?” you puff your bottom lip out at him.

“i swear i’ll fucking walk home and leave you guys stranded.”

“sure you will. hold this.” you pass the joint to him before retrieving the lighter.

matt tries to play down the smile that’s beginning to take over his face as you hold it in your palm. he got that one for you on your last birthday. it’s a silver zippo lighter with a big winding dragon engraved on the side.

it was kind of a gag gift just because he knows how much you smoke, but you ended up genuinely loving it way more than he had ever expected.

chris smacks him in the arm gently, and he finally tears his eyes away from you.

“you sure you want to?” his brother double checks, though he doesn’t do a very good job of containing his obvious excitement.

“yup.” matt replies simply, his gaze darting in your direction again.

he’s never once felt pressured to smoke before, but he’s always been a little curious. he’s hung out with the three of you while you’re all stoned enough times to realize that he at least wants to try it.

and sure, maybe a tiny part of him is doing this because he wants to impress you. but what’s the harm in that?

“i’ll start her off, but then it’s coming your way matty b.” you nod at him with a smile, taking the joint back from nate.

his heart is already pounding and all you did was look at him.

you put the filter between your lips and spark his lighter, holding the flame to the end. he watches it burn as you inhale, trying to figure out exactly how he’s supposed to do this when it’s his turn.

you blow the smoke over your shoulder, careful not to do it in anyone’s face. no cough. matt doesn’t even see you flinch.

you take one more quick drag, and he’s already entranced by your fluid movements.

then you stretch your hand out, offering him the next hit as you silently exhale once again. it’s impossible for him to ignore the way he fumbles with your hand before he finally pinches it between his fingers.

it feels awkward, like he’s somehow already doing it wrong.

“just put your lips on it, suck in, not for long though because that’s real shit. then hold it in your throat, inhale it, exhale it.” you instruct him, and his mouth is already dry from the way you’re talking.

there’s something about the commanding edge to your voice that’s driving him crazy. he kind of likes that you’re the know-it-all, the one in control.

“sounds dirty, but you get the point.” chris states with a shrug.

yeah, sounds fucking dirty.

“you got this, don’t even think about it too much.” nate adds encouragingly.

matt bites the bullet, curling his lips around the end and inhaling. he definitely feels the smoke fill his lungs, so he pulls the joint away quickly and practically tosses it to chris.

“exhale, exhale.” you instruct, and he does so all at once.

it fogs up the car, smoke flying back up in his face instantly. then he feels it. the burning in his throat. the desperate need to cough.

he sputters, and chris is already motioning to one of the waters in the cup holder.

“keep holding your breath and drink that.”

he tries to do as he’s told, but it’s impossible to hold it in. he lets out a loud hacking cough. then another, and another. matt tries to sip on the water in between them, though it’s hard.

you rub his arm gently as the cough attack begins to die down, and the feeling of your fingernails scratching him lightly through his sweatshirt almost makes him shiver.

“i personally like a good cough everyone once in a while. humbles me.” you joke, removing your hand and sitting back in your seat once you’re sure he’s alright.

he misses your touch immediately, and it’s embarrassing.

chris has been keeping it lit, so he passes it back to you once you’re ready. matt is left out for a moment, and he doesn’t mind the brief break.

the music stays on in the background, a curated playlist of stuff that you all like. he sees you bopping your head along to baby keem, and you turn to him with the joint still burning between your lips.

“you want more?” you say as the smoke curls around your face.

in many ways.

matt nods and reaches to grab it from you, trying to be careful where he positions his fingers. he repeats his actions from earlier, breathing out slowly this time.

he still coughs quite a bit, but it’s not nearly as bad. the high is definitely rushing straight to his head, and it makes him feel like a balloon full of helium.

his brother guides the joint out of his hand gently. even he wheezes a bit as he takes his fair share, which makes matt feel better.

“how do you feel bro?” nathan asks him through the haze that’s filled the car.

“good. i feel good.” that’s all he can think to say.

and it is nice. everything seems just a little bit lighter. his body feels…loose. matt blinks, and he swears he sees stars behind his eyelids.

you reach up to open the sunroof, letting some fresh air into the car. there’s not a cloud in the sky tonight, and the sound of the waves crashing against the shore calms him.

“one more baby hit, then you’re done.” you pass it to him for the last rotation.

“so bossy.” matt smirks at you, and there’s a humorous glint in your eyes as you watch him take a drag.

he tries impossibly hard to make it look cool, despite almost hacking up a lung and choking on his water. you laugh, but matt somehow understands that you’re not making fun of him by doing so.

chris snatches it from of his hand. “gimme that, it’s almost out.”

it’s like a game of ping pong as matt watches the two of you bounce back and forth, hit after hit. the joint dwindles and finally dies a minute later. you toss the burnt remains into a dunkin bag from god knows how long ago before slipping the lighter back into the pouch.

“alright, matt. time for you to switch with me big boy.” nathan reminds him, turning to open his car door.

matt follows his lead. his body feels like it’s three feet behind his brain, like his consciousness is just a few seconds faster. his legs wobble as his feet hit the ground, but he manages to steady himself, hand against the car as he moves.

nate walks him to the door just in case, and matt stumbles into his new home in the back, laughing at himself under his breath. you help him sit upright in the middle seat, reaching across his body to get to the belt.

“lift your arm.” you tell him, and even though he doesn’t want to, he listens.

you pull the buckle around and click it into place so he’s properly strapped in, doing it for him like he’s a toddler or something.

this is an action he’d normally protest, but he’s solely focused on how close together you are. he can feel the heat radiating from your body as your shoulder presses against his, knees knocking together as he gets comfortable.

“how are you doing? everything okay?” you ask lowly, looking up at him through those long lashes.

he can see the red tinging your eyes, and his own feel droopy as he continues to stare. matt just can’t help it. you look so gorgeous, somehow even more so when you’re both faded.

“cat got your tongue?” you joke, head tilted back to rest against the seat as nate puts the car in reverse.

“you’re pretty.” it slips out before he can stop it, and yet he’s too high to care.

your eyes go a little wide, and your lips part slightly as you suck in a breath. he wants to kiss you so bad, to get rid of the centimeters of space between you and just press his mouth to yours.

“and you’re stoned.” you smile a bit and look away, trying to play it off.

“but i’m serious.” he doubles down, and you glance at him once more with those fucking bambi eyes.

you shake your head and place your hand on his thigh. “i promise you’re not.”

it ignites a fire in his stomach, one that won’t die down. he wants to move his hips, to feel some sort of friction against your palm. but he holds still, even despite how much he needs you.

“you don't know me.” matt hears his words slur together slightly as he speaks.

“i definitely do.” you argue.

“fine, but you can’t possibly guess what’s going on in my head.”

matt’s still not sure where any of this is coming from, or why he’s saying it to you now, but the word vomit won’t stop.

you shrug, squeezing his thigh lightly. he shifts a little bit, trying not to get too worked up over the pressure.

“i guess that’s true. so what are you thinking?”

matt glances up front at his brother and his best friend, and he knows neither of them are paying attention to the two of you. they’re too busy singing piña colada by yung pinch to care.

he hears you hum a little bit of the chorus under your breath as you wait for his response.

“i’m thinking about you.” he finally admits, leaning over so he can say it directly into your ear.

he can smell your rose shampoo, the fading hints of flowery perfume on your skin. it’s intoxicating, being near you like this.

you move your hand off his leg to shove his chest playfully. “shut up.”

the city blurs by as nate continues to drive, and matt admires the way the light from the street lamps dance across your face.

“why don’t you believe me?” he mumbles, barely audible over the combination of the breeze and the music.

“because you’re high as a kite, i can see it written all over your face.”

“doesn’t mean i’m lying.”

you study his face like you’re trying to find the truth in it. he can’t help but grin, because you’re so fucking clueless, and it makes you smile right back.

“touché.”

[rivalsforlife]

pardon me if you’re tired of discussing this but. we know aa7 is on capcom’s radar on some level. and now they’ve rereleased every game right?? they’ve finally run out of backlog material after almost yearly releases since 2019…. Not to put the clown wig and nose back on too early but do you think we’ll actually get news about, or get to see, aa7 next year?

Never tired of discussing this!! This is right around the time of year where I'd be preparing to make my yearly AA7 Speculation Post anyway so this is great timing. (TGS, my enemy, is approaching.)

So just to make sure everyone's on the same page, here's a quick recap of where we're currently at:

In November 2020 we got internal Capcom leaks which included a calendar from 2019 with the roadmap for the AA series the next couple of years. This included:

DGS1&2 collection, which I did not think was going to happen ever, releasing April-June 2021

AA7, releasing around October-December 2021, right around the 20th anniversary.

Through late 2019-mid 2022, reconsider porting 456

We got DGS1&2 (a bit later than in the plan, but by like a month), we got the 456 ports, we got bonus AAI ports, we have nothing for AA7 nearly three years after it was supposed to come out. The pandemic is an obvious feature that could contribute to its delay, but at this point with 456 ports out I think we can safely say that this was not the only cause.

Some other things that may or may not be contributing to AA7's delay include:

Yamazaki, the previous main writer for 5&6 and the AAIs, left Capcom in 2020. If he was involved in AA7 at all, that could throw a wrench into things, but I recall hearing he intended AA6 to be his last AA game (I AM STRUGGLING TO FIND THE SOURCE THOUGH SOMEONE PLEASE HELP ME), so I don't think this contributed very much. It does, however, mean that we're unsure about who the next main writer is - depending on what Takumi's up to or if they had to bring someone new on, there could be complications related to that.

I think TGAA did way better than anyone expected, which I covered in this post. It's possible that this could have shifted Capcom's priorities to porting more old games / porting to all modern consoles. It may have made people at Capcom think "damn everyone loves Takumi" so they tried to lure him back to AA7, and I have no idea how well that would have gone or if Takumi is even interested in continuing mainline AA right now. (I do think this at least contributed to the Ghost Trick ports.)

In my first ever AA7 speculation post I talked about how the ending of AA6 kind of wrote them into a corner re: how to continue with the series and which protagonist to use. I still stand by that argument even if a lot of that post aged badly.

Console ports! Previously new AA games were for whichever Nintendo handheld is out now (GBA, Nintendo DS, Nintendo 3DS). But now that the series is doing really well on all consoles, they may have decided to try to make their next mainline entry on all consoles, which would take more development time. Adding to this is that the Switch is near the end of its lifecycle with the Switch 2 (or whatever the successor will be) being announced soon - meaning that, if AA7 is coming out soon, Capcom is in the position of "do we try to squeeze this into the end of the Switch's lifecycle" (which, I'll need to find sources for this, is speculated to be some of the reasons behind why AAI2 and DGS2 sold badly when they were first released, and they can't make the same mistake thrice... right...?) or "do we try to time it with the release of the Switch 2"?

Also, a lot of this depends on how far AA7 was into development whenever it was derailed. If it was derailed from the pandemic, then according to the calendar, it would likely have still been in the prototype stage. It may be early enough that they would have had to start from scratch whenever they picked it up again. I don't work in the gaming industry so I have no idea how long it takes them to make a game or how easy it would be from what stage they're in.

One thing we can compare to is some of the comments about the recent AAI ports: in this interview, Shunsuke Nishida, the producer of the AAI collection, says that development on the collection began in 2022. He also mentions that this began once development on 456 was concluded. This leads me to believe that (contrary to my previous assumptions) 456 and AAIC were not developed concurrently (or if so, had very minimal overlap), and that the process of upscaling graphics, porting, and localization took them... about a year, maybe? So that takes time, even without taking into consideration how long it would take to come up with a new idea + write the script + the bulk of the programming that would have to be done that isn't considered with porting + probably way more than I can think of because again I do not work in the gaming industry.

There's also the question of why 456 and AAIC weren't developed concurrently. The calendar from 2020 shows that TGAA and AA7 were meant to be developed at least somewhat concurrently, and the staff from TGAA would eventually merge into working on AA7. Once again, we don't know what happened to the staff that were supposed to be working on AA7. It's possible pandemic complications meant they got shuffled onto other projects. It's possible the AA-related team is smaller now than it was in 2020, so they only have enough people to work on one project at a time. It's also possible that there's a team that was working on ports, and a team that was working on a new game, and now the "port team" is freed up to work on the "new game team".

Either way though, pretty much every interview with the staff for the 456 or AAI ports are all saying "look forward to the future of the series", which is definitely Corporate Speak, but unless they're bringing the ports of the Layton crossover (fingers crossed) that can only mean one thing. (AAI anime?) Plus, like I've discussed in this post, AA is having fantastic sales in general. They've seemingly either hired a new social media manager or changed the strategy so there is much more engagement on twitter. And AA is getting on bigger and bigger announcements - though AA trilogy ports were announced at TGS (at an AA-specific panel), TGAA duology ports were announced unceremoniously on twitter. Afterwards, 456 ports got announced at the Capcom Showcase during Summer Game Fest. And now AAI collection got announced at a Nintendo Direct, which I imagine is even more expensive, so the series must be going in a good direction for them to think that's worth it!

That's a lot of rambling for me to say I definitely think it's coming.

When are we going to see it though!!

Coming up in September is my eternal enemy Tokyo Game Show. Since AAI collection is being released at the beginning of September... it might be a bit too soon to announce a new game, but who knows. They might think it's profitable to ride the hype they're building now for AAI collection to announce a new game. Or they might let it sit for a while.

With AAIC getting announced at a Direct, I'm thinking they'll want to make AA7's announcement a) big and b) global. AA6 was announced in Famitsu, but the problem with that is that it's a mostly Japanese audience, and some interviews have been talking about how AA's global audience is particularly contributing to how big it is right now. So I'm expecting AA's next announcement to be at something major and something that will get attention from overseas audiences.

If they have been working on AA7 concurrently -- and honestly I do think there has at least been some progress on it since 2019 -- we could definitely see an announcement within the next year. I was also saying this in 2020, though, so don't take my word for it. There's been two year gaps between ports up until the AAI collection, and they seemed pretty proud about releasing 456 and AAI in the same year, so... maybe they'll want to keep it going and announce AA7 within the next year, especially if they'll have a longer announcement -> release period than they normally would for ports.

Potential candidates include:

Tokyo Game Show: As previously stated, it's very close to the AAIC release, so I don't think it's the best timing for it. I would not want my favorite AA game overshadowed by whatever the hell they're going to do with AA7. Likelihood: depends on how fast they want to follow up on the hype.

The Game Awards: is the next major gaming event, but that's already massive in terms of the type of games that get announced there, and it's expensive! Nintendo Direct is one thing since AA has always been a Nintendo-first series, but I don't think it's big enough to justify putting in a Game Awards ad. and I already have my clown wig on for persona 6 there. Likelihood: pretty low tbh

Next Year's Summer Game Fest-related Shows: I think this is the most likely, considering both the 456 collection and the AAI collection were announced around this time. For AA7 I'd say a Nintendo Direct to get lots of eyes on it, especially if AAIC sales pay off. Likelihood: pretty high!

Which leads me into my wildcard answer:

Switch 2 Announcement Stream: If Capcom decides to go in and make AA7 one of the first games for whatever the switch successor would be, it could be announced here. I regret to admit that I am a very bad gamer and only like two things, and therefore have not ever been present for one of these things to know how many games get announced as launch games for a new console, but, like, it's possible.

In the above scenario, I'm not necessarily saying that AA7 would be a Switch 2 exclusive - because I think that would be stupid after so much of the support they've gotten from the ports has been from playstation and steam - but I am definitely the kind of person who would buy a console for one video game. Shoutout to me buying a switch in part anticipating that aa7 would come out on it and that is not looking likely

Anyways, that's my speculation!! Reminder that this is mostly uninformed and that I have no knowledge of anything related to sales or marketing or video game development, and as a result of that, I have been wrong (aside from the one time I accurately predicted AAI ports as a joke) for four consecutive years.

[scorpioriesling]

Please Please Please H.C.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

Pairing(s): Xaden x reader

Warnings: none

Summary: You have your sights set on bad news, you just don’t know how bad. You can only hope your friends aren’t right about how dangerous he truly is.

SR’s Note: Obviously the pairing features the reader as I usually tend to write, so we shall pretend Violet isn’t a character in this fic (: Although she is an absolute queen, she’s just not featured in this one. Peace & love, enjoy

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

At first, you weren’t too sure if you actually liked him, or just thought he was handsome

(But after some time, you figured out it was more than physical attraction)

As for Xaden… he knew right away. Like, the moment he saw you, he was absolutely down bad

You actually saw him first, you both happened to be in the same bar at the same time one November night and once your eyes found him, you couldn’t help but simply stare.

“Listen sister,” Imogene said. She wasn’t actually your sister, but being a year older, she felt like she was. She was always looking out for you in a sense, anyway. “That’s Xaden Riorson. He’s absolutely bad news,” she said, but you just kept watching, fully entranced by him. “For you, anyway.” she added.

You rolled your eyes and asked her what that was supposed to mean. She only looked you up and down — over the mini skirt, corset top, and chunky heels — and back at him, his brown hair ruffled and leather clad black outfit reflecting the neon of the overhead lights.

“You don’t think I’m up for a challenge?” You raised an eyebrow. Quinn was approaching from the bar, and you all but snatched your shot glass from her and chugged it before meeting Imogene’s eyes again. Quinn only gawked at you.

She threw her hands in the air. “Absolutely not, I know you have balls, I just don’t want you getting hurt-“

“I can handle it.” You shot her one last look before weaving a path through the crowd, the handsome guy your pot of gold at the end. You were getting so close, you were mere inches away; but your foot caught on someone’s shoe and you stumbled-

“Easy there, short stack,” you heard a voice as smooth as whiskey from above as two strong hands whisked you up, setting you upright again on your platform heels. Your eyes met the deep brown ones of your target — just who you’d been looking for.

Turns out, your pot of gold was more than that, his eyes had reflected it too.

“Oh, uhmmm,” You fumbled nervously. The handsome guy only smirked, and you blushed nervously as his eyes roamed over your body.

“You have a name, short stack?” He asked. Your eyes flew wide. What a rediculous nickname, even in heels you couldn’t help your lack of height.

“Y/N.” You said shyly. He nodded, slowly glancing over your frame once more.

“Cute. Buttttttt I think I like short stack more.” He shrugged. You rolled your eyes not thinking better of it, and he laughed a little, his fingers finding the curve of your waist.

“Mhm. Should I come up with a rediculous nickname for you too?” You asked mockingly sweet as he hovered closer to you. The smell of Earth and mint eminated from him, and you tried to school your face into an unamused expression as you stared straight up at him.

“Oh, absolutely not. It’s Xaden.” He said, grinning down at you. You pursed your lips, and his other hand made its way to your opposite hip. He leaned in close, talking lowly so you could hear.

“Need me to help you stand, or do you think you can handle it?” He asks. You furrow your brows at him, heat tinging your cheeks once more as he chuckles at you. He lifts a hand and runs his thumb over your cheekbone.

“You know what short stack, you’re kinda cute. Feisty too,” your expression softens, and a genuine smile graces his lips. “I think I’ll keep you around, if you’d like.” You grin mischievously at him, and he leans in closer. You don’t care, you’d kiss this man right here and now, the drinks you’d had didn’t help that, but the way he halts at the last second leaves you a bit confused.

He glances to the left, and you follow his gaze to the back door of the bar where three beefy guys in black shirts filter in, scanning the crowd. Xaden sighs, and a flash of uncertainty crosses your mind.

“What’s wrong?” You ask. He smiles gravely at you, pulling you close to whisper once more.

“Listen short stack,” he starts. You peer around his shoulder, catching Imogene’s eye as she slowly shakes her head at you. “We may have to get outta here if you wanna continue this, that alright?” With that seductive voice, he could tell you to rob a bank and you’d do it for him.

You meet his eyes once more and sigh. “Xaden what… who are you?”

He all but winks at you, lacing your fingers through his before ducking to your height and wading through the crowd toward the front entrance. You can’t see around his broad shoulders, so you don’t realize you’re in the clear before the crisp November air hits you and you shiver. He straightens, and pulls you close to wrap an arm around you.

“I’ve got an extra jacket and helmet, I’m parked just around the corner, alright baby?” He coos. You stiffen in shock, but he only rubs his hand up and down your chilled arm soothingly.

“Helmet? For what-“

“HE’s OUT HERE!”

You glance back just to see the big guys from the bar running straight for you, a few bar attendees filtering out the front door behind them.

“Uhmm- Xaden-“

You squeak as he effortlessly whisks you into his arms, breaking into a jog down the street and you bury your face into his neck as the breeze whips against your face. Within minutes, he’s slowing, then stops to gently place you on a leather seat.

“Here, sweets,” he hands you a helmet, and you finally open your eyes to realize you’re on a motorcycle. This won’t go well with the alcohol you’d already consumed this evening.

He puts his own on, quickly strapping it and making quick work of adjusting yours to fit. His calloused fingers send thrills of excitement through you as he tightens each strap, and shucks on the extra leather jacket over your shoulders.

“Hold onto me short stack,” he orders. You wrap your arms around his waist, feeling just about every ridge of his abdomen underneath and adjusting yourself against the leather seat below. What the fuck did you get yourself into.

He revs the engine twice, and speeds past the men running down the sidewalk toward him. He keeps going, ignoring your panicked squeaks as you pass the bar once more, Imogene’s pink hair and grim look the final notion that you’re in for a wild ride.

You could only hope, only plead, that she wasn’t right.

ﾟ:* ✧

[woahjo]

bird of prey (tendou x reader) - chapter 3

series masterlist | ao3

Pairing: Tendou x Reader, Bokuto x Reader

Series Summary: Satori Tendou is your best friend, but you fuck for fun.

Chapter Title: Act I, Scene 3 — Pomegranate

Chapter Summary: Work is a nice distraction sometimes. Satori uses it as his own personal way to forget the shit he doesn't want to think about. It's a shame that said shit walks through the front door.

Chapter Content Warnings: afab!reader, tendou's pov, college au, friends with benefits, no strings attached, angst, jealousy, competition, insecurity, tension, sexualization of a fruit (my bad), dirty pictures / suggestive conversation, multiple partners (not cheating)

Word Count: 5.4k

A/N: After many moons, she's back and in the same exact outfit she wore 6 months ago. crossposted to ao3 ofc.

< prev |next >

“So what if they're seeing someone else?” Wakatoshi says, tossing him the small, round figure they’d been throwing back and forth. “Has that stuff ever really bothered you before?” 

Satori is a contradictory person, he thinks. There is a lot about him that he feels defies definition. An unplaceable sense of desire that radiates from every crevice in his body. Something about him that he can both hide, but never hope to conceal. 

“Not really,” Satori responds. 

He’s reclined on his bed, his neck craned at an awkward angle against the headboard. Wakatoshi sits across the room at his desk chair, one foot pushing him absentmindedly back and forth. 

“So what’s the issue?” Wakatoshi questions, his baritone voice bouncing lightly off of the walls. 

“Not really sure,” Satori says, turning the object over in his hand before tossing it back. “I just don’t… like it.” 

“But you don’t wanna go out with them?” He raises the question like it baffles him, which Satori supposes that it does. Wakatoshi has always been… monogamous, for lack of a better term. When he likes something, he goes for it without thinking about anything else. 

Satori isn’t quite like that. That’s not to say that he’s considerate, because consideration requires a sort of awareness for others that Satori lacks in a very abstract sense, but he’s calculating. What Satori does, he does because he wants to and because it feels right, but he considers the dynamic of it. He thinks often about what “could be” in an extreme sense and then seeks out that thrill with whoever he has in mind. 

“It’s not really in the agreement,” Satori laughs dryly and with no particular disdain. 

“It could be,” Wakatoshi says, his ideal state of mind peering through. 

Satori just gives Wakatoshi a pointed glance before turning his attention to the window. 

Late November this time of year sees the beginning of snowfall and as December begins to get going in full swing, snow comes down often. Thick, powder-like clusters flurry past his window outside, clinging to the small divots on the outside of the window. It begins to crowd his view and if he were to glance out of the window, he’d see that the streetlight outside is hazy and looks somehow distant. 

“I like what we have going though,” he says, not with any particular sort of conviction. “It works for me and it’s nice. The sex is good and their company is great. It seems like a shame for it to end.” 

“They haven’t said anything about ending it yet though, have they?” He tilts his head. 

Satori shakes his head noncommittally, shrugging his shoulders briefly. 

It’s true that you haven’t. The two of you tip-toe carefully around the subject of your relationship to Bokuto, but you never break it off. Each time you finish and lay sweat-soaked and panting in each other’s company, Satori gets the distinct feeling that it’s coming, but it never quite does. The ball never drops and he vaguely feels like there’s a space there for him to speak. To maybe be the bigger person and do it himself. He doesn’t think he will though, he likes this far too much to end it. 

“Not yet,” Satori says. “But they’ve been seeing each other for more than a few weeks now and from what I know, it’s pretty regular, so… you know… matter of time, I guess.” 

Wakatoshi doesn’t really say anything. He’s never been a man of all too many words. Satori shouldn’t find his silence unsettling, but for some reason he does. It’s like a quiet confirmation. 

Satori is an idealistic person at times. The world, for him, is played in saturated color. It’s vibrant and it glitters. He’s never been all too preoccupied with the negative side of situations because when things sour, Satori is exceptionally good at cutting his losses. There’s fun and then there’s not fun and they exist in two completely different universes. Satori happens to exist in the fun one, where he never has to take anything all too seriously. 

Maybe it’s a negative quality of his. He sometimes thinks that if he never takes anything too seriously, he’ll never have to worry about getting hurt, and if he’s always having fun, there’s no room for pain. Satori doesn’t like pain or discomfort. He has a very low tolerance for it and he’s never been too keen to stick around and see where the limit is. Of course, the flip side of this is that Satori inadvertently causes pain wherever he goes. Carelessness acts as a sort of medium for it, one that he himself manages to circumvent. 

You have been the first arrangement where he’s avoided that particular discomfort. The discomfort of causing another person pain. You just get it and in the process, you get him. 

“The futon is in the closet,” Satori says, sinking down into his bed and pulling the comforter up to his chin. 

He hears Wakatoshi get up from the chair and it gives a distinct click as it moves back into its fully upright position. There’s the gentle squeak of the thin closet door, the soft sound of a blanket rustling, and then the click of the closet latch. Satori listens as Wakatoshi lays the futon out on the carpeted floor beside his bed, the distinct ruffle of it as he throws it out and slowly lays it down. As Wakatoshi crawls to lay down, Satori glances over at him, watching his friend’s broad body get under the blanket he’d laid out with it. 

“You know that it’s really impolite to make your guests get out their own futon, right?” Wakatoshi says absentmindedly as he settles in. 

“You’re more like family,” Satori grins, the corners of his lips curling up. “And since I’m older, you should do it yourself.” 

Wakatoshi blows a quick puff of air out of his nose and Satori gives a small chuckle as he settles in. There’s a long beat of silence as Satori turns out the light and they lay in the dark room. He can hear as Wakatoshi turns over and then finally settles and lays on his back. 

“I think it’s worth talking to them about,” Wakatoshi adds, picking up the previous conversation as if it had never stopped. “You’re stupid if you don’t.” 

Satori lets out one quick laugh. “Maybe I’m stupid, I don’t know.” 

Wakatoshi groans a little and Satori is a bit surprised to see him show that sort of frustration over something other than volleyball. He laughs a little and stares at the ceiling. 

“What?” 

He hears the sound of Wakatoshi shaking his head against the pillow. “Nothing. It just sounds to me like you like them.” 

“Well,” Satori muses. “I do. Obviously. They’re one of my best friends, how could I not?” 

“Like that?” Wakatoshi emphasizes.

Satori just sort of hums noncommittally and it isn’t long before the room has settled into silence, evened out by Wakatoshi’s breathing. 

Satori supposes that there may be love there. There has to be. Maybe it’s not the kind Wakatoshi thinks he’s looking at, but Satori is near certain that it exists. 

—

Satori works part time in a small izakaya. It’s an out-of-the-way, run down place, but he likes it. At first, he only picked up the job to help pay for his car, since the shit-mobile’s expenses were dipping a little too far into savings, but now, he finds that it’s a nice escape. For some reason, the space feels like he’s just walked into a picture. 

It hasn’t been redecorated since the place opened and it’s dressed in a classic Japanese style. The space is small, no more than 8 tatami mats for the sitting area, giving it a pleasantly stuffy and crowded feel, and it always smells vaguely of barbecued meat and beer. Satori thought the smell was unpleasant at first. He didn’t like the way it clung to his clothes, giving the impression that he’d spent the evening drinking, but now he’s grown rather used to it. It’s become one of the many smells he sometimes carries with him. 

The outside of it is modest, just down a step from the sidewalk, with a small sliding door that is always open during daytime business hours. There’s a glowing neon sign just outside, protruding from the side of the building and into the alleyway. It’s the most marketing this place does, but that suits it fine. Most of its customers live in the neighborhood anyway and tourists are infrequent visitors, as there are far trendier bars in Sendai. 

The inside is homely and gives the distinct impression of having walked into somewhere familiar. Just inside the doorway, there is a small area to remove your shoes, along with cubbies lining the wall. As Satori enters, he sees a few pairs of shoes already inside and he slips his own off carefully and puts them in the staff section along the other side of the entryway. Haruna’s shoes are already in there. A pair of neat black flats, worn at the toes and creased just behind where the balls of her feet would be, tucked squarely into the left middle cubby. She stands on her tiptoes a lot. Akio’s shoes are also in the cubbies. He wears a pair of old white sneakers with soles so worn that they’re completely smooth in the center. 

His work shoes, the uniform ones meant for the kitchen and behind the bar, are just beyond the main room and around the corner. Satori enters the izakaya without a bow. He’s so accustomed to being here that he no longer does it and Haruna just tosses him a pointed look from where she’s rounding the corner to the staff area. 

“You’re late,” she comments. “Your shift started ten minutes ago.” 

Haruna has a pointed way of speaking. Her words are sharp on her tongue and almost nothing slips past her. 

“You keepin’ track of my punch card now, Runa?” Satori laughs, breezing past her to punch it in the old fashioned machine by the wall. It’s not even automatic. Satori has to physically push the stamp to make it work. 

“No, I’m keeping track of when I get to go home,” she scoffs. “We only have a thirty minute overlap today and I can’t leave if you’re not here.” 

“But I am here,” he teases. 

“You’re lucky Daisuke likes you so much,” Haruna scowls, scrunching her nose. 

Satori shrugs his shoulders and fastens his apron, walking behind the bar without a proper response. Haruna just shakes her head a little. 

She’s really not a bad person. Haruna is actually really enjoyable and Satori likes working with her, she’s just… particular about how she works. She doesn’t like working longer than she’s scheduled. It fucks up her mojo as she would put it. Satori finds it endearing, despite her being nearly six years older than him. 

Haruna actually works two jobs, one in a retail office and another here at the izakaya. Her other job is what the flats are for. He only ever sees her actual shoes on weekends. 

“What are you even doing here?” She says, coming to stand next to him behind the bar as she gathers small plates on a tray. “You don’t usually work Thursdays.” 

She’s right. Satori usually works on Sundays, Mondays, and Fridays. 

“Yasu called out, so I’m covering,” he states plainly. 

“Why are you doing that?” She pulls a face. 

Satori places a beer in front of a customer at the counter and then leans one hand on the bar. He lets his weight rest on his shoulder, causing it to rise to his ear as he tilts his head. 

“Are you not overjoyed to see me?” 

Haruna doesn’t dignify his tease with an answer and he clicks his tongue with mock-disappointment. 

“Needed a break,” he says. 

“So you came… to work?” She laughs, a plate topped with sprouts in her hand. “Yeah, right.” 

“Yeah,” he smirks, “I needed a break so I came to work. You gonna keep grilling me and wait for those bean sprouts to become full-blown mung beans or what?” 

“Smartass,” she mutters. 

Satori hums again and it’s not long before she’s back around the corner and serving a table on the far end of the izakaya. 

He falls quickly into a rhythm, calling back orders to Akio in the kitchen. Satori disappears a little when he works. It’s like he goes on autopilot. Satori doesn’t like rules, but when he goes into work by choice, especially when he feels he has a lot on his plate, he seems to appreciate the work flow a little more. Besides, his job is relatively relaxed. As long as Satori serves drinks and food, he’s golden. 

Of course, another one of his stress relief methods is photography. Pictures of the things he likes, beautiful things that some people find ugly or without taste. Usually sexual things—pornographic, as his classmates might say. In his second year, Satori did a photo series in his film photography course centered around a pomegranate. He only used one and he carved it up over the course of many days. He let the fruit bleed, nearly rot, and photographed it throughout the process. He liked the color of it, so red and inviting, and the photos seemed to give off the distinct tarte smell of the peel. His classmates said that it made them particularly uncomfortable and that the pomegranate, which was really just a fruit, no longer felt like something inanimate by the end of the photo series, but rather something alive—or something that was once alive. It’s a little abstract, but that’s exactly what Satori was going for. 

He can’t really take photos in this situation. Lately, you’ve been a bit of a muse to him. There are aspects of you he’d like to photograph and when Satori wants to photograph something, he can’t seem to stop thinking about it. He thought about that pomegranate for weeks. About the roundness of the juice-full seeds, the way they began to dry out and the ones that survived long enough to shine amongst the bunches of dried pulp. A small part of him regrets not eating it. 

Ideally, he’d like to disappear into the lens of his camera for a bit. Look at the world through the little window at the top of it and enjoy the December season behind glass. Maybe it was a bit of a hasty idea to make you the central point of his project for his self study class. After his conversation with Wakatoshi earlier this week, he’s afraid that the pictures will chronicle his marvelous, long overdue downfall. By the end of it, the photos will no longer be of your back from a few inches away, but rather of your face in a crowd of people he’s never met, surrounded on all sides and taken from feet away. He never wants to use a distance lens on you. He’d take your picture with a microscope if he could, if only to see the cellular composition of your skin. 

He’s deep in these thoughts when the inner paper door of the izakaya slides open with a thud and a raucous composition of three voices. His coworkers welcome them in, but Satori is so caught up in the thought of you and the pomegranate that he forgets, idly wiping at a glass in his hands and staring blankly at the shining, translucent rim. 

“Tendou?” A voice calls, baritone and confident. They sound almost surprised. 

He looks up from the class and is greeted with eager, gold eyes and thick expressive eyebrows. 

“Bokuto,” he says, his lips curling into a faux smile. So much for getting his mind off of things. “Fancy seeing you here.” 

“Well, we were in the area,” he laughs a little, motioning his head to the people who begin to seat themselves at the bar near him. 

There are two other people with him, a girl and a boy. The boy he recognizes as someone who usually hands around Bokuto, but he’s never seen the girl before. She’s got a mid-length, reddish-brown bob and calm eyes. She doesn’t look up as she peruses through the menu and Satori gets the distinct feeling that Haruna might like her. 

“You gonna drink, Akaashi?” Bokuto turns to his friend with a raised eyebrow. 

“Maybe,” he says, “If I get a beer are you gonna pressure me to drink four more afterwards?” 

“When have I ever done that?” Bokuto questions. 

“You do it every time we go out to drink,” the girl chimes in. “Why do you think you always have to beg him?” Then, she turns her attention to Satori. “Three beers and two orders of beef skewers, please.” 

“That’s so not true,” Bokuto responds indignantly. “But also, why end the party just ‘cause your glass is empty. Might as well get more.” 

“Here he goes,” the girl laughs. 

“Yukie, don’t just order for me,” Akaashi chides the girl for getting him a beer. 

“You know you’d have caved eventually,” she says calmly. “Let’s not go through all the back and forth this time. Bokuto’s a hard person to say no to.” 

“Hey, woah,” Bokuto turns to Akaashi and gives his friend a genuine look. “You never have to do anything you don’t want to. I’m just saying that I’ll be so crushed and sad and depressed if you cancel the order. That’s all.” 

Bokuto speaks earnestly, like he doesn’t realize how hypocritical he sounds as he talks and his friends chuckle pleasantly at his airheaded demeanor. It’s too late to cancel the order anyway. Satori eavesdrops on their conversation as he fills their glasses with the house beer. He’s already pouring the third. Akaashi is getting one whether he likes it or not. 

“Three beers,” Satori sets them down in front of each of them. “Skewers’ll be out in a second.” 

“Thanks man,” Bokuto says, pleased as he takes a sip of the amber liquid. “Drink up, Keiji.”

The grill is just behind the bar facing the guests. Since the izakaya is rather homestyle, Satori prepares and grills things like skewers directly in front of guests, though it’s not really for performance purposes. Right now, he wishes that Akio were in charge of cooking things like this. That way, Satori wouldn’t have to stand directly in front of Bokuto and his friends for all too long. No matter, he can deal with it. It’s not like he particularly dislikes Bokuto. 

“I thought you’d be with ____ tonight,” Bokuto says brightly as Satori places the first of the skewer sets on the grill. Akaashi gives him a somewhat mortified, sideways look. 

Satori smirks down at the grill and flips a skewer with one hand. His lips curl at the corners and he pleasantly takes in the idea that Bokuto had assumed you’d be with him. 

“What makes you think that?” He smiles, his words a little slimy. 

Bokuto shrugs his shoulders, leaning up to look at the meat on the grill. He doesn’t spare Satori a glance as he watches it. 

“Well, they’re usually with you no?” He says evenly. “Otherwise they’re with Yuki. Maybe Alice or Keiko. Oh, not this Yukie, though.” He jostles the girl’s shoulder and she lets out a huff of air as she struggles not to spill the drink held up to her mouth. 

Satori shrugs his shoulders and shakes his head briefly at the assumption that he wouldn’t have noticed that this Yukie is an entirely different person from the one he met at the party. Then, he gives Bokuto a slick grin and returns his attention to the meat on the grill, satisfied with Bokuto’s relief.  

“You know,” Bokuto starts, “I’m a little relieved they’re not with you right now. The idea was making me jealous.” 

Satori furrows his eyebrows and lets out a small laugh. Bokuto looks almost bashful, though not in an insecure way. Instead, the statement almost gives him an indiscernible look of unknowing confidence. Bokuto doesn’t have to worry about divulging this information to Satori because he doesn’t even view it as a competition. Neither does Satori really, but it irritates him that Bokuto is so nonchalant about his confidence. It’s almost like he’s sure that things will work out for him. Satori isn’t sure if that’s something with his personality or something that you told him, and the idea unsettles him. 

“Well, I’m here,” Satori says, plating two skewers of meat and starting on the next two. His eyes dart up to look at Bokuto over the tops of his cheeks, tone dipping slightly with the next part of his statement as his lips curl up in the corners. “And so are you. No harm, no foul.” 

Bokuto nods his head a little at the slight. He picks up on it, Satori can tell that much, but if it bothers him, he doesn’t let it show. The comment rolls off of Bokuto’s broad shoulders and he moves on to the next topic with an almost unintentional ease. Yukie glances up at Satori briefly, her expression closed and unreadable before she returns her gaze to Bokuto. 

Even the steam from the skewers gets caught up in Bokuto’s social pull. It floats towards him evenly, almost as if it’s drawn to the openness of his expression. Satori idly works on the second plate of them, turning the wooden skewers with his bare hands over a crosshatch grill. Bokuto’s voice carries and as Satori busies himself with the remaining order of skewers, he can see the way other patrons of the izakaya glance at where he sits at the bar. He passes the plate over the counter, setting it down in front of the group. 

“Let me know if you need anything else,” he offers before starting off to the other end to help a few other patrons. 

Satori briefly studies the sort of looks Bokuto receives, his eyes slinking across strangers’ expressions. Most of them, it seems, are admiring. They look at him as if there is something there to be desired, something they’d like to take for themselves or experience. Bokuto carries on with his loud conversation obliviously and Satori wonders if he truly doesn’t notice that people are looking at him or if he’s so accustomed to it that it no longer phases him. It’s likely the latter and Tendou furrows his eyebrows momentarily before setting down a glass of dark beer in front of an older patron. She thanks him with a practiced smile, curling her shoulders forward as she takes a sip.

“Hey!” Bokuto calls from across the bar. His voice rises above the conversation in the room and if the whole room weren’t already aware of his presence, they certainly were now. “C’mere for a sec.” 

Bokuto waves Satori over casually and he obliges, slinking over and leaning forward on the bar with a raised eyebrow. Bokuto raises his glass of beer to his lips with open posture, tilting his head up slightly and taking a large gulp. There’s not a hint of shyness in his movements. All of it is executed with an oblivious, admirable confidence. 

“Yes?” Satori questions, glancing at the half empty beer in front of him. “You wanna prematurely order another drink?” 

Bokuto swallows and sets his glass down, shaking his head and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Akaashi makes a face at him. 

“Nah,” he says, leaning forward a little. “I wanted to ask you something.” 

Tendou raises an eyebrow and Bokuto offers him a broad smile that feels too friendly for their relationship. It’s all teeth, surrounded by full and round lips. 

“You and _____,” he starts. Yukie sighs heavily and glances at Akaashi, who shrugs his shoulders in a defeated manner. “What’s going on there?’ 

Satori is caught off guard by the question, though he really shouldn’t be. Bokuto has proven time and time again to be so forward that it borders on stupid. 

“Why do you ask?” He grins lightly. 

Bokuto gives Satori a bashful look, running his hand down his face to cover the expression he wears. It does little to hide it and the gaps in his fingers and color of his cheeks betray a recklessly confident emotion that makes Satori wonder through what light Bokuto even sees him. 

“Ah, well, you know,” Bokuto says. “We’ve been talking.” 

Satori nods slowly, subconsciously chewing the skin on the inside of his cheek. What he wouldn’t give to be able to leave this conversation. 

“So?” Boktuo presses. 

Satori’s lips curl up in the corners, his expression twisting into something cat-like and aware. It’s not quite friendly, but Satori’s never had that sort of face. 

“We’re friends,” he offers. 

“Friends?” Bokuto says, perking up a little. “What kind?” 

“Good friends,” Satori says, sticking his tongue in his cheek so that it rests over a sharp canine. 

Bokuto nods, his body language opening up a little bit. Satori examines the way he moves, the confidence in the breath he lets out, as if the idea that Satori might be lying has never even crossed his mind. That, or it betrays the idea that Bokuto doesn’t even view Satori as being in the same playing field. Both are irritatingly casual and he rolls his head over his shoulders as if to rid himself of the tension. 

“So you don’t mind?” Bokuto adds, his words a little more measured. “If I ask them out?” 

Satori momentarily grits his teeth, raising an eyebrow as he returns Bokuto’s gaze. On either side of him, Akaashi and Yukie are suspiciously minding their own business. 

“Why would I mind?” Satori answers, hiding the way his stomach clenches unpleasantly. He greases up his words with a curled smile, as if the idea is amusing to him. 

Bokuto looks at him for a moment before setting both of his hands on the counter and leaning back with a wide grin. 

“That’s good,” Bokuto says, his tone returning to the light and somewhat airheaded tone he usually maintains. “Probably would have made things awkward if you did when we start goin’ out.” 

Bokuto says this with his head angled down, picking up a skewer and taking a bite out of it. 

“Oh, this is good,” he says to Akaashi, putting the skewer in front of his face. “Try it.” 

Satori comes to the quick realization that Bokuto hadn’t been asking for permission. He’d been letting Satori know that he’ll be asking you out. It wasn’t a question of if he can, but rather a warning that it will happen regardless of what Satori wants. The arrogance of it makes his skin crawl. 

There’s a confidence about Bokuto when he talks about you. Something intrinsic within his person. A haughty, unabashed confidence that things will just work out for him, so much so that he hardly seems to notice when he says something arrogant. Even worse, his arrogance comes across as justified.

It’s rare that people genuinely get on Satori’s nerves, but Bokuto does. Bokuto grates on him like sandpaper and Satori can’t help but click his jaw as he turns around and returns to his duties. There’s something in the way he talks about you, as if you’ve already handed yourself over to him, that makes Satori feel uneasy. It would be unfair to say that you’re Satori’s. After all, it’s just sex, but he can’t help but feel some sort of possessiveness over you. You’re not just a fuck buddy either, you’re a friend, someone he connects with on a very real level. To have Bokuto reduce the relationship between the two of you to something as definable as “minding” provokes him. 

Of course, this sort of thing is likely inevitable. It’s not like Satori plans to put any sort of ring on your finger. Shit, he doesn’t even intend to put any sort of label on it. For Satori, this is fun. It’s fun he’s not exactly eager to give up. It’s his. This discomfort, however, toes the line and he can feel the way the urge to just let go creeps up on him. Satori’s never been all that much of a fighter, even when it comes to the things he adores. Boredom follows displeasure quite quickly with him. 

Bokuto and his friends linger for the larger portion of his shift, chatting idly. Like Yukie said, Bokuto pressures Akaashi into quite a few more drinks and by the time they leave, the two boys’ figures are swaying as if thrown softly off their axis, pushed and pulled by imaginary breezes. They settle their tab with cash on the counter and clamor out with a final wave. Yukie, the soberest of the group, stops in the doorway to give Satori a look that he can only interpret as apologetic. The sort of look you give someone who has started a losing battle. 

He laughs to himself at it, lowering his gaze as he clears away their plates and wipes down the counter. None of them even know the half of it. Not the way you whisper to him, the way you look at him, the curve of your body in his camera lens. What do they know about the two of you? 

—- 

The air outside is cold when Satori steps out of the izakaya and shuts the sliding door behind him. It makes his cheeks and nose feel like they’re being pinched and as he exhales, he can see the billow of clouded breath that leaves his open mouth. The street is calm in the way city streets get on weekdays in the late evening and the streetlamps create a familiar glow across the black pavement. He pulls his phone out of his coat pocket, studying for a moment the way his knuckles redden in the cold. 

Satori: Saw your boyfriend today. 

You: Not my boyfriend. 

Satori grins at your message, exhaling through his nose and shaking his head. He’s unable to hide his pleasure at the quickness of your response. 

You: Where? 

That’s a little less funny. 

Satori: Work.

You: I thought you didn’t work today? 

Satori: Someone called out. 

You: Sucks lol 

Satori tucks the device and his hands away in his coat pockets after liking the message, stepping further out into the street and starting off in the direction of his apartment. He focuses on his breathing, distracted by the way his breath comes in clouds that he leaves behind. His cheeks burn and his lips are chapped from the delicate nip of the cold. A thin layer of snow tucks itself away at the edge of the street, fading out into puddles on the road. 

Some part of Satori regrets the answer he’d given Bokuto. So noncommittal and careless. He’s never been one to give the whole truth, but it’s obvious to anyone that the two of you are fucking. Even his photography class knows it. 

For some reason, it makes Satori feel worse that Bokuto didn’t even squirm. He hadn’t even stopped to consider that maybe he’d lose. What Bokuto would be losing, he isn’t sure, but he knows that it never even crossed the other man’s mind. 

Satori hates losing. He’ll stop competing if it means he doesn’t have to admit that he did. He’d rather not play at all than get burned doing it. Even when he played volleyball, he’d been noncommittal. When his team lost in his final year of high school, he’d let it roll off of his shoulders because it was just for fun anyway, the thrill of the game. What’s fun about a game where he loses? Or worse, a game that he wasn’t even considered to compete in in the first place but thought he’d been playing all along. Yukie had given him a look like that, like he was only on the team to be kept from being left out. Satori likes high stakes, but he’ll take the bets he knows he can win.

His phone buzzes in his pocket as he gets back to his apartment, vibrating quietly in his pocket when he slides the key into his lock.

You sent an image 

You: How about something like this for your photography project? 

It’s a dimly lit photo of your legs, cut off just before the apex of your thighs where they meet your center. One knee is bent, leaning against the other outstretched leg, and in the mirror across from you he can just barely make out where your bare ass rests on your duvet cover, shadow hiding the place on you he most wants to see. He stares momentarily at the photo, feeling the way blood rushes to his lower half. 

Satori: I’d rather keep something like this for myself. 

You: Good, that’s who it’s meant for. 

[perpetualexistence]

Alenoah Hypnosis Corruption AU, where after Alejandro hears Noah call him an 'eel dipped in grease', Alejandro makes a deal with Noah... If Noah lets Alejandro hypnotize him into not saying the truth about Alejandro to anyone again, then Noah won't get eliminated... However if Noah refuses to get hypnotized, then Alejandro will hypnotize Owen instead, after Noah's elimination... Noah hesitantly agrees to be placed in a trance by Alejandro... Alejandro tells the hypnotized Noah to be loyal to Alejandro! 🍥

So, funny story anon. I don't really have any more ideas I could add to this lovely idea you've presented...because you've accidentally (I hope) recreated the wheel.

You've also accidentally awoken the essayist that has realized she has the opportunity to share things she knows. So, with that in mind:

(I don't mean for Lisa to be mad. I am genuinely excited to share these things with people who potentially don't know them. I just couldn't find a better meme.)

Feel free to read under the read more for fanfic recs followed by my own personal thoughts about the Alenoah hypnosis corruption and why I love it so. I'm basing my knowledge on what I've seen on Tumblr and on Ao3. If you feel like I've missed anything, please let me know!

First the elephant in the room: the horny fics.

Yes, the earliest examples of Alejandro using hypnosis on Noah were smut. No, I'm not about to link them for what I would hope to be obvious reasons.

To be clear, I've got no problem with people who do have hypnosis as a kink. Everyone's allowed to have or not have a kink so long as it doesn't hurt anybody. To each their own so long as consent's involved.

The problem only starts when you do things like bringing minors into the mix. For what, again, I hope are obvious reasons.

Hypnosis is something that can be used as a great plot device when used for non-horny reasons too, and that's the context we're looking at them here.

So now onto the more palatable dark, horrible things you can do with hypnosis! /aff

The one who started the most recent trend was Creative_Creatures with their fic To Reach New Heights. It's a NoCo fic they started in November 2023 and was discontinued in April 2024.

Alejandro tricks Noah into letting himself get hypnotized, and Noah starts getting more and more corrupted as he grapples with his sense of self and the version of himself Alejandro is imposing on him. Cody starts noticing something's up, and Alien Cody also gets involved in the plot.

There are some moments of OOCness that the author has admitted to. They've also stated that they no longer like the work, hence the fic being discontinued. However, I still think it's worth checking out at the very least as a fic to learn from. It still deserves the credit for being the first to try tackling the subject, even if the result didn't end up as expected.

After Creative-Creatures came Total-drama-brainrot, aka Ophe. For Ophe there's actually a linear timeline for how their fic, Snap, Crackle, and Pop, came to be.

The seed started on January 14th, where Ophe made a stray comment about how the fandom doesn't really address the fact that Alejandro hypnotized Owen, and received a response regarding the negative side effects of hypnotism that Owen could have hypothetically dealt with: https://www.tumblr.com/total-drama-brainrot/739512421490835456/i-was-thinking-more-along-the-lines-of-how-messing

About a month later, Ophe made a seemingly random ask regarding how one would write hypnosis. I may or may not have a footnote in this history as I made a comment regarding To Reach New Heights: https://www.tumblr.com/total-drama-brainrot/741634477880754176/how-the-fuck-am-i-supposed-to-write-hypnosis

A day later they unleashed Snap, Crackle, and Pop, a fic where Alejandro convinces Noah to make a bet regarding hypnosis, and takes advantage of Noah's forced compliance from then on. Though Noah is by no means helpless and finds his own ways to fight back.

The fic only has three chapters written so far with no clear idea of when the next chapter will release. Still, I highly recommend it for the writing and the exploration of the concept.

About a week later, Ayawilliams came into the picture. For those of you who don't know who Ayawilliams is, I'm going to assume you're new to the fandom. In which case, hi! Glad to have you here! They've been shipping Alenoah as far back as 2016 on Fanfiction.net from what I can tell. This was way before it started taking over as the main ship in 2021. They're still consistently writing fic every few days, and through all of this have made a name for themselves on AO3.

If you look through the comments for the first chapter of Snap, Crackle, and Pop you can see that AyaWilliams definitely did take note of the hypnosis fic, and of To Reach New Heights. Almost a week later they delved into their first foray into hypnosis fic: Passive. (Though the main inspiration for the fic is credited to a role-reversal genderswapped fic called Hexxed by lonelybrachiobrute (triceratroops)).

Passive's a role reversal one-shot where Noah is actually the one hypnotizing Alejandro to be better at the competition for just a small, tiny price.

AyaWilliams liked the idea so much they made a sequel fic set in the same universe during the London episode called Unrecognized Yearnings.

The hypnosis trend of fic came full circule on March 5, 2024 when AyaWilliams wrote A little persuasion. After London, Alejandro threatens Noah into letting Alejandro hypnotize him or else he'd do it to Owen.

Since that fic, there haven't been any new additions to the hypnosis trend for Alenoah.

Which I think is a shame, because I do rather like hypnosis as a plot device. It's a branch of mind control that needs one party to trust the other in order for it to work. It's an exploration of power dynamics, and how they can be exploited and taken advantage of.

And although none of these fics explore it, I also like considering the other side of hypnosis. With the idea that the trust is warranted, and the hypnotizer uses a power that could so easily destroy and corrupt to instead help the hypnotizee achieve a state of calm and peace they didn't know was possible. Or to help them work past their own inner demons by detaching in a safe way, with the ability to ground themselves to come to a better understanding of themselves.

Or as another, more specific, certainly not something I have in mind for one of my own AUs example: Having Alejandro who starts off with using hypnosis merely to get what he wants from people, only to transition as he grows as a person to use it to do something like bring a certain cynic out of a dissociative state induced by personal trauma. And possibly becoming open to the idea of allowing said cynic that same amount of power over him, creating a more balanced relationship founded on trust between the two.

But you didn't hear that example from me.

Hypnosis can be used in multiple ways, and how specific characters use it and react to it speaks so much about who they are as a person. Every way is neat, and I hope to see more of it!

Thanks for coming to my TEDtalk.

[d4rkpluto]

i've returned to post about a particular subject i've been fighting to or not to post, because i used to consider this person the closest person in my life and i even considered her as a best friend and a sister.

and we have fallen out and apologised to each other many times, but perhaps whenever we argued it was life telling me that she is not supposed to be in my circle. and you could be wondering why am i bringing this up and telling tumblr this but im telling tumblr this to be aware of @couerardent and her scamming behaviour.

couerardent also known as MYSTIICWINTER OR MYSTICWIINTER.

talk about WORSE SERVICE I HAVE EVER GOTTEN MY ENTIRE LIFE.

[other people have come to me and spoke about how bad her services were, but i tried to overlook it because i really cared for her, lessoned learn]

i have always been empathetic towards ardent and her money situation, but there are moments when excuses turn into reasons to not do something. on august, i sent alex money because she needed it, but she also said in return she will give me 4 packs she usually gives her clients and she told me she would give me my money back.

first pack is "tell me your story."

second and other packs she hadnt told me what they were but she informed me that i'll be receiving them weekly since august, and now its november.

at first i was empathetic, since i used to be close to ardent, i knew she went through a lot of stuff at home, so i was patient. until august turned into september, and september turned into october and then october turned into novemeber.

and slowly i became annoyed, [as i should] because her services arent even long or good, as someone who gives chart readings to other people that consists more than fourteen pages, the effort to write that would take long, but ardent doesnt even give five pages for her services, three at most, so why is it taking her so long?

previously, she has joked to me about scamming other people, but would put the blame on them and not want to take accountability until they start using threats to expose her, i think she deleted the making fun of scamming them but here is some of it:

and when i would message her for updates about my reading because it'll take months, she would ignore me and even change her pfp on tumblr or discord, until i reach out to her on more platforms to get her attention.

and what would annoy me even more is that she would talk about how she never has something to do or would focus on other stuff knowing she needs to get my reading done lmao and this would be like 1-2 months after i was supposed to receive any of it lol.

worrying about the layout for almost 3 months PLEASE.

i have received 1/4 readings, and that was now almost 2-3 weeks ago, we should've been on my 2nd or 3rd reading by now, the only reason i have received 1 reading is because i did threaten to expose her if she didnt send the money or reading my way, because even i had some issues because living in london has gotten really difficult and i have been trying to support my family as much as i can, but im doing better right now.

its all about the principle. and she has none of that. and even attempted to victimise herself and behave like she was in distress whenever she got called out about her behaviour.

she lost track of time, the time being 3-4 months lol.

and when i was speaking to her she ignored me for a bit again ha, it was almost comedic. for almost two weeks she didnt try and check what i was speaking about.

she has gotten ill, but this was still months after.

and i have remembered, she has used much of her earned money to fund for her nose job but also uni, but during the moments it was best to pay me back was at the job she said paid her well, she informed me that when she gets paid by her job she'll pay me back, and she never did and ended up quitting the job.

[the unfairness i was speaking about is how uni her country dont do student finances, she's from romania, because they do in the uk it was just a surprise].

i asked her recently on how i was supposed to receive a reading but she didnt reply but change her pfp on whatsapp and discord, again.

if there is any confused people comment please because i did this half asleep lmao

[missgryffin]

lying in wait

Randomly listened to some Hamilton over the weekend, ended up with "Wait For It" stuck in my head, and wrote this in a couple hours today. I think it's angst, but with a nice dash of crack? Idk 😅 But I hope it makes you smile! 🫶 below + AO3

November 3, 1981

The cottage is silent, save for the ticking of the old grandfather clock in the hall, and it’s already pitch dark, with only the faint glow of street lamps and budding moonlight shining in through rain-slicked windows. 

Lily draws up her knees to her chest where she sits on the sofa, peering mindlessly into blurry windowpane. She doesn’t remember the last time she walked aimlessly down a road, or went into a shop. Sometimes, on stormy autumn nights like this, she wonders if she ever will again. 

Footsteps tumble down the stairs, then come to an abrupt halt. 

“Lil?” She can see his shadowed outline, one hand in his hair. “You just…sitting in the dark?”

She shrugs, though he probably can’t see, and asks, “Harry went down alright, then?” 

James chuckles to himself as he crosses the room, picking his way around the furniture until he drops onto the sofa next to her. “After reading every book twice and playing the Snitch game for thirty minutes…yes.” He leans closer, grinning. “Our son is asleep.” 

She rests a hand on his scruffy cheek. “It’s only supposed to be ten minutes of the Snitch game,” she teases him. 

“I know,” James sighs. “But he asked for ten more.” 

Lily snorts. “What, and then ten more after that?” 

He throws his hands weakly in his lap. “Wha—am I supposed to say no to the kid? He looks just like me!” 

She falls into him, a laughing heap, and for a moment, they simply giggle deliriously together. It’s nice. It’s normal. Or at least a sliver of it.

James cuddles her into him, and Lily breaths him in. They’ve lost so many over the few years since Hogwarts, but they still have each other. She clings on to that, to him.

“I love you,” she says into his chest. 

He kisses the top of her head. “I love you, too.”

A stretching silence; a heavy sigh. “It’s his birthday.” 

“I know,” James murmurs. “I can’t stop thinking about him.” 

Lily peels herself off his chest and swings a leg over his lap, sitting with her arms looped around his neck. How many conversations have they had over the years while sitting just like this? How many more will they get? 

“He said he’d be in touch by today.” Her mind won’t stop racing. “What if this was a bad id—” 

“It wasn’t,” James cuts her off. “Besides.” A heavy sigh. “It was…our only idea.”

“Do you think…” She pauses, plays with his hair. “Do you think we…did the right thing?” 

He sits up straighter, pulling her closer against him. “You’re the only two people in my life I know I can trust completely,” he says. “So yeah, I think we did.” 

There’s no use rehashing it again; they’ve done that enough. Yes, he now has a target on his back, but it’s not like he wasn’t already a target before. No, it couldn’t have been anyone else—not Albus, who knows more than he’s saying; not Remus, whom Albus and Sirius both suspect; and not Peter, who’s been looking exhausted and strung-out from the night-shift reconnaissance he’s been assigned. Yes, he had to leave. And no, it wasn’t cowardly to do so.

Granted, that last bit had taken a not insignificant amount of convincing (damned Gryffindor), but he eventually came around to their idea. Staying around in England with Voldemort sure to be onto him was certain death. But why not take advantage of being top of Voldemort’s mind? Why make it easy, when instead he could make it hard? Give the Order a leg up? Let them use him (or rather, the idea of him) as bait to lure and manipulate all the Death Eaters looking for him, and maybe even root out the spy in the process? And really, if anyone was going to lead Voldemort on a wild goose chase, setting traps and lying in wait, who better than Sirius Black?

Still, she worries. She can’t help it. And she knows James worries too, even if he does do a better job of hiding it. 

There’s only one thing left to do, really; only one way to pass the time sufficiently distracted from racing thoughts. James must read her mind, because he’s all eager hands and excited tongue when she kisses him. Maybe it’s unhealthy, how much they’ve used sex to cope the past year. But when his mouth feels like this and hair’s in her hands…she’s not sure she cares.

“Prongs!”

They jump, springing apart like they’re fifth years caught after curfew. James swears under his breath as they fumble to right the clothes they’d started shoving aside before he reaches for the small mirror sitting on the coffee table.

“Padfoot!” 

Lily frantically feels around the sofa for her wand. 

“Why’s it so dar—oh, don’t tell me you were just—”

“We were waiting for you,” James covers. 

“Mate. That’s worse. Just say you were shagging.” 

“Well, we weren’t yet.”

“Hi, Sirius.” She brandishes her now-glowing wand, recovered from the seam between the cushions. 

“Lily! Looking rumpled as ever!” 

She yanks her cardigan back up her shoulder as she scolds, “Shut it.”

“I miss you, too.” 

They can only see Sirius’s chin in frame, and it seems like he’s moving around. 

“Happy birthday, man,” James says.

“Thanks.” 

“Where are you?” 

“Hang on—I have to show you—ready?” 

“Yeah?” 

His face comes into view and Lily instantly gasps. 

Sirius grins. “Like it?” 

His once shoulder-length hair’s been chopped off stylishly short in a fresh cut that makes him look like old Hollywood charm in that loose button-down he has on. 

“Damn, Pads!” 

“I…barely recognize you,” Lily stammers. 

“Well.” He adjusts the mirror closer to his face. “That’s sorta the point.” 

A heavy pit settles in her stomach. 

“How you been?” James asks. “Travel go okay?” 

“Yeah, fine.” Sirius shrugs. “I’ve been doing things the Muggle way—that Muggle Studies N.E.W.T.’s finally paying off, who woulda thought.”

“Where are you now?”

The mirror turns around, panning over an ocean-side city lit up with lights through a set of patio doors. “Cannes,” he says, and Lily hears the grin in his voice. The mirror turns back to his face. “I have access to money here, dad’s side of the family, in the French bank. And I figure…” He flops back atop a hotel bed, one hand beneath his head. “If Voldemort wants to come get me, he’ll just have to bring his snakey arse down to the beach, won’t he?”

They all bust up into snorting, wheezing laughter. It’s not normal; none of it’s normal. But laughing with her husband and their best friend like this is the closest to normal she’s felt in a long time, and she thinks, if this is how life has to be for awhile, she can live with it.

[razorblade180-heated]

Early Christmas Gift

[Warning, smut. Like the whole thing]

It had been a looooog day for Jaune Arc. The end of a crazy mission that had far too many explosions, the loss of his wallet for half the day which forced him to miss his boat, and finally, bad turbulence on a flight all the way back to Vale. Now it was the dead of night and he was wheeling his luggage down the sidewalks. At least he didn’t vomit on the ride, this time.

“Note to self, Vacou kids are amazing pickpockets.” He mumbled aloud. Thank goodness Ren was quick on his feet and that Nora could be as scary as she could be sweet. If not, things could’ve been worse. Now that he was back in the city, his Scroll was practically blowing up with messages. Notably, his girlfriend, Yang, called a little more than Ruby. Before he could finally return a call, his scroll rang with Yang’s name.

He laughed nervously and smiled, preparing himself as he answered. “H-”

“SO YOU ARE ALIVE!? WHAT THE HECK MAN!?” The blonde yelled, relieved and annoyed.

Honestly, less aggressive than he expected. “Hi baby. I’m sorry.” Jaune deflated as he spoke. “Today has been a day.”

“That’s putting it mildly. Weren’t you supposed to be home seven hours ago? Did the mission go south? You didn’t get hurt did you?”

“No, the mission was pretty Nora core. All and all we made good time but then someone stole my stuff, missed my boat; lots of other very, very exhausting stuff. I’m walking home as we speak.”

“Wow. That’s…definitely a lot. Wait, you’re walking? It’s nearly midnight. You could’ve called me or someone to pick you up from the port.”

“I figured everyone was asleep.”

“Get real. Do you really think I’d be sound asleep before I knew you were okay?”

Those words warmed his heart greatly. “Thanks Yang. I’m fine though. Vale isn’t some ghost town at night. I am sorry though. We had plans to meet today. You must’ve been waiting a while.”

“You…could say that.” Yang laughed sheepishly. “Here I was, ready to see my boyfriend after we finished our missions and his annoying personal challenge was achieved.”

“A month without sex is a test of will and power.” He defended.

“November is the time for good food and being thankful. Anything else is wild. Besides, we’ve both gone years without fun stuff. Why add a month?”

“Heh, I don’t think being a single or a virgin counts. You’re just opted in at that point. How did your mission go by the way?”

“Got home on time.”

“Ouch… where’d the warmth go?” He teases.

“I know you’re fine now. If you want warmth then…maybe I should see you?”

“You’re an island away. Even if you caught the final flight I’d feel guilty. Though if it makes you feel better…I’ve been missing you all day.”

“…Always the charmer. I’ve definitely been missing you too.” She said, a little more bashful than usual.

“There’s always tomorrow. I’m definitely not going anywhere. Aside from grocery shopping.”

“Have you eaten?”

“My apartment should still have something edible. I’ll probably grab a snack, bathe, and crash.” He finally reached his building’s street. “Anyways, I’ve officially made it home safely. Just several feet away. Now you can have pretty dreams knowing I’m safe.”

“Nope. Not until you go through your front door. I’m not hanging up until you do.”

“Okay, okay. Heh, honestly with my luck something crazy would happen if I hung up early.” He laughed.

“Please don’t jinx yourself.”

Jaune made his way down the hall, up some annoying stairs, and to the front of his door.

“Kay, now you are free to sleep.”

“Have a wonderful night, handsome.” Yang made a kiss noise over the phone and hung up.

Just like that, Jaune felt the warmth again. She was so good to him. He’d definitely have to treat her to a dinner or some kind of club date. The man found his keys and went inside his home at last. Instantly his nose was greeted with wonder and bliss. That was…odd. He put down his belongings and walked over to the kitchen; a flick of the light revealed a hot box of pizza. Jaune had to do a double take to make sure this was his place. He then noticed Yang’s emblem drawn in orange on the box.

“Ah, that’s why she asked if I ate.” He smiled before quickly going back to being confused. How was the pizza hot? Yang had a key to his place but when was she over here? Did she leave briefly before he called? Unless…

Jaune looked towards the absolute darkness that was his living room and squinted. Not that it helped with the balcony blinds shut. “Yang?”

His call was answered with snickering. “Hehehe, I do love watching your brain at work. Although…” She pulled the metal lamp string next to her to light up the room. “You’re also cute when it’s derailed.

And derailed it was. There his cute girlfriend was, sitting on his black leather recliner his family had bought him. Her smile was cheeky as well as ear to ear. She sure caught him by surprise, but the real shock was her outfit. A silly little Santa hat on top of her head jingled while the only thing on her body was a red tube top with white frills that was fighting for his life, a matching miniskirt that barely went halfway down her thighs, and very, very long red stockings that compensated for the skirt’s lack of…well, skirt.

Jaune’s mouth went dry and his eyes embarrassingly wide. It was as if Yang had knocked the exhaustion out of them. He wasn’t quite sure where he should’ve been looking at first, but then noticed despite how confidently the lady sat there with her legs crossed, her cheeks were branded pink and her gaze, while excited, was also avoiding complete eye contact.

“For the record, I’ve been in this for quite awhile.” She said, breaking the silence. “It took guts to commit to this surprise.”

“Now I’m curious what you would’ve done if I had called you to pick me up!”

“Then Remnant would’ve gotten a hot Mrs. Claus on a motorcycle.” She smirked. “Although I’m actually very relieved that was not the case. It’s cold out there!”

Not the issue Jaune thought she was going to say but he rolled with it. Not that he had much choice. Yang finally stood up and slowly walked towards him, draping her arms over his shoulders and giving a more endearing grin despite her obvious flustered face. “Welcome home. As you can see, I missed you.”

He nodded, “Yeah, I can feel the yearning. Hehe, you look…wow. Talk about an early present.” His hands automatically went to hold her waist.”

Yang got on her toes and gained a very sweet and joyful kiss. She’s glad her efforts paid off, but she could tell Jaune really had a long day. “Go grab a slice and unwind yourself. I’m not going anywhere so- mmph!?”

Her offer was outright denied, thrown to the side as Jaune pulled her body closer and back into a more passionate kiss that fluttered her heart and stole her breath. The longer kept her in his arms, the more she found herself melting into the embrace to the point her knees buckled before he allowed her to breathe again.

Frazzled, Yang found herself stammering and chewing on her bottom lip. “I um- I uhh can wait a while longer for you to rest.”

“I’ve made you wait long enough.” He said with yearning and restrained lust as he pulled her back into a kiss that took custody of her tongue.

Yang felt herself rise up onto her toes as Jaune’s hands found residence on her shapely rear. He didn’t think twice about squeezing it as he picked her up and allowed her legs to wrap around his waist. It didn’t take long before her man went a step further in sliding his hands under the provocative skirt. Jaune quickly ended their kiss to gaze at her as her face grew red from his curious expression.

“No underwear huh?” He said, sinking his digits into warm flesh. “What am I going to do with you?”

“Funny. I was wondering the same thing.” Her hands rubbed his broad chest. “Come sit on the couch for you me will ya?”

He followed her quest and sat right in the middle of the couch. Yang was about to get off him for the next step, but was clearly taken by surprise when his teeth tugged her tube top down, freeing her massive chest before ravishing them. A jolt ram through her spine as his warm tongue lapped around her nipples. His hands kept her waist pressed down on her lap to the point she had no choice but to feel his pulsing cock through tight jeans. Nevertheless, Yang couldn’t stop her hips from grinning along it, dampening the fabric severely.

“H-Hey…wait! I-mmm” Her voice shook, feeling him sink his teeth into her. Jaune leaned forward, putting Yang on her back as he continued devouring her body. “Jaune! Hold on~ I…had a whole routine~” Yangs mewls only served to make him more daring. His tongue trailed up her neck, causing her entire body to arch as he met her lips again for another kiss. Yang was overwhelmed with the scent of the boy and his rough day, which she increasingly found more and more dulling to her senses. She didn’t even notice Jaune had unzipped his pants until she felt his buring hot tip rubbing along her folds. “Mmmph”

Jaune could already feel her lips quivering as they coated his cock. To get this excited so quickly; he wasn’t one to talk though. He began pushing his hips continuously into the molten warmth.

“Aaaaah!” Yang felt the wind leave her body as Jaune’s thick cock spread her body apart and filled her inch by inch until she felt the weight of his balls against her ass. He slowly began dragging himself out halfway before plummeting back in as he grunted. “Ah fuck!” Yang gripped his forearms as her body tripped to adjust.

“Gods, I missed you. You’re so wet.”

“Who’s fault is that!?” Yang’s breathing became sharper as Jaune started moving. “Nng, too big. Rock solid too~”

“It has been a long month. I’m dying for a release.”

“How do you think I feel!? It hasn’t been easy for me either.” She pouted. Suddenly she felt his movements slow. “Jaune?” He raised himself up and looked down at her with a shocked look from between her legs. “What?”

“Are you telling me you didn’t touch yourself the entire time?”

Yang felt heat rush to her face. Looking at him became a lot harder so she turned her head to the side. “What would be the point? Even if I used a toy, I just wouldn’t feel as good as you.”

A brief silence fell on them. Yang awaited his response when she suddenly felt him twitch inside her. Jaune’s hands held her waist tightly and raised her lower body off the couch with ease, causing her to look his way. “What are you-” was all she could manage before seeing Jaune thrust his hips forward, causing another series of jolts as he began to go all out.

Yang’s mouth fell open and stayed that way as voiceless, broken cries left her throat until a scream finally broke out. “AAAAGHN~” her brain became a mess, her eyes fluttering at the sight of jaune mercilessly fucking her pussy until their sex became loud and wet. Her stomach felt like fire as her hips became numb with the pleasure of being turned inside out. Each deep rub made her gasp for air she couldn’t gain while her chest bounced to the rough rhythm. “B-baby. Baby! Aaah!” Yang reached for him and he gladly returned to her embrace. She knew despite her pleas, his pace would not falter; nor did she want it to. Their pleasure had built too quickly to turn back now. With a final raise of his hips, Yang felt the man bury himself deep inside and release a rush of heat that made her body squeeze him for more as her vision blurred momentarily. When she recovered, Jaune was already pulling out slowly and giving both of their bodies a break. Still, if you were to go by appearances, Jaune’s body hadn’t calmed down in the slightest.

“Looks like all of you missed me.” Yang huffed, sitting up as her legs gained some feeling. “If I didn’t know any better, I would think you were trying to have a kid.”

Jaune watched the woman run her middle finger along her slit to pick up some of the lust he left dripping in her. Yang looked him dead in the eyes as she lapped up the naughty taste, making him blush.

“I had an entire routine planned out and you threw it to the side. Not that I mind.”

“You can’t say the things you said a

and wear this without expecting me to get riled up.”

“Heh, touché.” Her gaze fell on his erection, the near seven inches of solid flesh was still ready. Might as well start her plans now, Yang thought. She leaned forward, crawling on hands and knees until she was in the perfect spot to lower her head.

Jaune shuddered as he felt her hot lips wrap around his length to lick him lavishly. Now he knew Yang was horny for sure. Giving head was never her favorite activity in this fun process, but now her face was happily burying itself in his lap repeatedly. His left hand brushed the blonde bombshell’s hair aside for an unobstructed view of her work.

Yang ran her tongue up and down the girth base, polishing it while making faint moans and wet smacks to turn him on more. She must’ve been losing her mind because the way his taste and smell overwhelmed her senses in the best way possible. Her grip on reality only came back when Jaune's hand struck her rear suddenly, his middle and ring finger slipping inside her body to stir her desires harder.

“Mmmm~”

Jaune couldn’t stop his smirk. “Oh you like that?”

“Mmhmm~” Yang readied herself and pressed down in one motion to feel this man in her throat before coming up for air. Yang could feel his digits grow relentless as they sped up. Unable to focus, she freed Jaune from her mouth in a fit of panting and mewls. Her hips couldn’t stop shaking, pushing against his hand to feel each knuckle rub deeper. “Gods, why is this so good?”

“Cum if you need to. Let me see that pretty face.”

“No~ I…I wanted to use my tits on you. But now I…I’m…” Yang let out a long, heartfelt sigh. How did things get this messy so fast? “Put it back in me. I want it.”

Jaune retracted his fingers and did his best to regain his own composure; a difficult task when the love of his life not only pleaded, but brazenly kissed along his shaft in a stupor of want and desire. “Ngh, Yang, get on my lap if you want it.”

Yang got on her knees then swung her right leg to the other side of Jaune’s waist. The boy wasted no time massaging and kneading her chest, riddling it with bits as Yang cooed. Her body dropped slowly, piercing herself onto Jaune’s flesh.

“Aaaaghn~” her hands ran up his chest and gripped his shoulders as Yang started bouncing on his lap, putting all her weight down each time to feel her womb get knocked on. Jaune’s mouth stayed busy where it was but his hands returned to her rear, molding it like clay as he helped push her down to the base. Her hips buckled. “Fuck!”

Heavy, wet smacks echoed every time her ass slammed onto Jaune’s lap. The man couldn’t believe the tightness that surrounded him; the way it clung it his length and coated it with ecstasy that reached his thighs. Engulfed by Yang’s heat, Jaune finally took a second to separate his lips from his body and removed his shirt. Yang’s arms all but sprang out towards him right after, pulling him into a feverish kiss while her hips moved on their own before his hands returned.

“You’re so in love with my ass tonight.” Yang hummed.

“I’m in love with it every night.” He continued kneading it, his fingers rubbing all of it. “Hey, so how much did you prepare for today?”

Yang didn’t get the question at first, until she felt a single finger tracing her asshole. Yang couldn’t hide the state of blushing red he put her into with his pesky intention. To make it worse, her body already gave him the answer to the question. Yang buried her face into the crook of Jaune’s neck and quivered as the naughty middle finger pressed into her slowly. A moan came from her throat and her hips worked over time on his cock as Jaune began to play his little game.

He could already feel her walls frantically twitching but he knew he could make Yang go crazy. He wanted to make the month of emptiness mean everything. He nipped at her ear as he continued fingering her. “You’re such a good girl, you that? Doing all this for me; allowing me to cut loose~” he thrusted up suddenly.

“AAAHH!” His nipping turned into feverish licks as well. Yang tried staying strong but now he was meeting her thrusts and pumped his finger into her more quickly. Her body became repeated jolts of pleasure to the point Yang could only bite her lover’s shoulder as a way to soften her growls.

Jaune’s only panting became like a drunken breath as he approached his end. “Good girl~” he cooed, leaning right into her ear and whispering it one more time. “Gooood girl.” He pressed her hips down against his waist, going as deep as possible. “Here’s your reward!” He grunted, cumming for the second time.

Every muscle in Yang’s body tensed all at once. She was certain she’d scream, yet the immense rush of pleasure stole voice, leaving nothing but a silent yell as she clung to him like a girl on a wild roller coaster. Pulse after pulse, she felt her insides get marked by Jaune. The dork was brazen enough to call it a “reward” and she had half a mind to thank him for it. They were going crazy. Not that she hated it for a second.

Yang felt Jaune relax under her body while she found the strength to set up after his hands finished toying with her. “Wow, that was- hmm” Yang stopped short as she witnessed Jaune struggling to keep his eyes open. Poor guy was spent! It was almost hard not to laugh. “Pfft, gee, looks like someone should’ve eaten.”

“I was hungry for other things.” He groaned, wrapping his arms around her torso and resting his face in her chest. “But now that pizza sounds like a wonderful idea.”

“Oh what to do with you?” Yang giggled, her hands combing through his hands. Truthfully, she wanted him to stay inside like this a little longer, but the last thing she wanted was her boyfriend withering away. Yang kissed the top of his head. “I’ll go fix you a plate.”

“You’re wonderful.”

“And you’re outstanding. My hips are still floating.” She said, embarrassed by her own honesty.

“Let’s wash up together after we eat.”

“Only washing?” She teased, only to feel him twitch inside of her. Yang gasped a little. Jaune raised his head to look into her eyes with a gaze that made her chew on her bottom lip again. Tonight was going to be a long night. “Welcome home.”

[aquaquadrant]

I was wondering if you had an estimated date of when you will post the next HTP chapter?

Like, leaving us on such a cliffhanger must be a crime! It cant be legal!

Anyways, while I wait for it, Ive decided to copy paste every chapter into a doc and mark it up color code style for all my over analyzing needs. It took me an hour but it was worth it.

Have a good week and take care :)

(This is meant to be genuine, not mean or passive aggressive, just so you know. While I indeed am anxiously awaiting Chapter 10 by highlighting the chapters on a doc like that one photo of a bible page that’s highlighted with different colors. This isn’t meant to be mean or pressuring, take your time and take care of yourself)

⬆️(Ah poo, Im an over thinker

hey there, no worries y’all- i love seeing my reader’s enthusiasm and it’s reassuring to see continued interest in the series. i’d been hoping to have BOTH of the final ‘from eden’ chapters done before summer. but i have to admit, progress on the next chapter hasn’t been as forthcoming as i’d expected, for a couple reasons.

the first is health-related. not to be too TMI, but i recently got diagnosed with crohn’s disease. my symptoms started ages ago but have really ramped up in the last couple months, and the diagnosis was a lengthy and involved process (started the hunt back in november, presumptively diagnosed after a colonoscopy in feb, definitively diagnosed when biopsies came back over spring break) and even when i was simply waiting for results, it occupied a lot of my mental capacity. and ofc it happened to line up with me turning 26 and needing new insurance, which has caused lots of delays. anyone dealing with the american health care system while chronically ill will tell you it’s a frustrating, exhausting process. as of right now, i’m still waiting to start treatment 🫠

but honestly, even more than that, the biggest thing stopping me from writing is… me? 😂 so there’s this thing that happens after i post a chapter that’s like… decision paralysis? except it’s just that sometimes, i literally can’t bring myself to start the next chapter. it’s like, i have this unfounded fear that all my writing up until this point has been some magical fluke out of my control, and i’m not capable of ‘pulling it off’ again. i guess you could call it a form of imposter syndrome (which i already encounter enough in my vet school life). it gets worse after posting something that was a particularly massive undertaking or was insanely well-received bc i’m scared i won’t be able to top it- even though the impact of storytelling is supposed to be cohesive, and it’s unrealistic for every chapter to be ‘bigger and better’ (what does that even mean?) than the last one because they serve different purposes at different points in the story. i know this, rationally, but that doesn’t stop the irrational fear of failure from making me avoid writing.

i’m not sharing this to make excuses or garner sympathy, or fish for compliments, and certainly not to make anyone feel guilty for asking about updates. i just feel like maybe this will resonate with anyone who has the same experience. and also to share hope, because despite how often this feeling rears its ugly head, i’ve still been able to push through and get back to writing- and i’m always very happy with the result. sometimes it just takes longer than i’d like (pro tip: writing on ur phone is less intimidating, tho it’s more of a pain). but in any case, the next chapter of ‘from eden’ is well underway and i still hope to have the series done before summer’s end^^

[nalyra-dreaming]

"Romeo?" reminds me of "No Peleas, no Melisande"

In both Louis through dreamstat expressing his doubt that he and Armand could ever be some grandiose iconic love story.

Which heartbreakingly ties with revelation that Armand did not see lestat. He felt him but he didn't knew details and didn't knew for sure how Louis viewed and still views their relationship. This episode solidified my theory that "love of my life" wasn't even delusion, but more put upon mask. OR it is what Louis believes in but I think it started after some...tinkering in San Francisco

Assad acting is insanely good, I understood why Rolin said he felt for Armand while filming. That moment of realization, that hurt and shock he experiences and tries to mask immediately because Daniel is there. Assad's interviews are very insightful and interesting and I got from them that Armand truly viewed this relationship better than they actually were, even though deep down I think he knew.

I have a theory that he was aware that things were not good to say the least at first but something happened in San Francisco. Something that made Armand believe things will be better. (Some memories were changed perhaps) And so they lived after this their stable life under sword of Damocles, because once memories returned? Peace is gone. Raglan mentioned other people trying to interview Louis (or at least that's how I interpretated this) and it ended poorly for them. Armand definitely took care of them.

So Louis definitely knows that something isn't right. We established it in ep1 s2. He also 90% knows that Armand is responsible at least partially for this. Or at least can restore memories. He knows interview will help him. He knows Armand doesn't want interview. He knows Armand kills(?) people who interview him. He knows that Armand spared Daniel (we don't know if anything else happened but we don't have to. It's enough already). He knows that there's something about Daniel that makes Armand intrigued and he can't kill him. He probably feels guilty about Daniel's memories as well. He invites Daniel so they both can remember.

Okay, so the "love of my life"... was more or less debunked already after the last episode of s1, in interviews. It was a play on "The Graduate", here is a great discussion on that (also this is from November 22, for context^^):

This isn't their great love story. It's being sold as such, for reasons.

And yes, Assad is insanely good, and he understands his character so well! Ultimately Armand wants love... and to be loved. (The problem is the way he goes about it...)

Armand canonically believes that "Louis would get over it". Not kidding. "It" being Claudia's and Lestat's (supposed) deaths. There is a whole speech in IWTV about that. And that was a misconception in the book, and it will be one in the show.

And yes, I have also theorized that Louis invited Daniel specifically because he is the one tool to crack Armand... and to remember. Because he knows things do not add up. And now Daniel knows, too. And Daniel... Daniel is the one mortal Armand won't just kill.

For... reasons which have a lot to do with San Francisco :)

[babydollmarauders]

AUGUST PT 2 — QUINN HUGHES

quinn hughes x fem!reader

THIS IS A VERY LATE PART 2 TO THIS FIC

summary: in which y/n has been in love with Quinn for years and now she deals with the emotional consequences of a summer situationship.

specific lyrics: “you weren't mine to lose.” and “i can see us lost in the memory, august slipped away into a moment in time. 'cause it was never mine. and i can see us twisted in bedsheets, august sipped away like a bottle of wine. 'cause you were never mine.”

warnings: underage drinking

notes: this is almost five months late…. better late than never, right? ummm….. i hope y’all enjoy 🫣

**SEPTEMBER 21ST 2018**

the last week of this summer passed by in a blur. my final seven days being spent with Jack and his friends, and my nights being taken by his brother. i never did confess my feelings to Quinn, and as a result, i now sit back in my bedroom at home, watching snapchat stories of him at a party. my focus zeroes in solely on the girl clinging to his arm in the most recent picture. he wears a smile on his face and in the hand not occupied by the girl, he holds a generic red solo cup.

i have no right to feel jealous. to be so upset. he was never actually mine, no matter how much i wanted him to be. we were never exclusive. our rendezvous last month were just good times for him, and i knew that. so why did it still hurt? why did it still feel like my heart was broken?

i suppose i could chalk it up to the fact that he never clarified anything. he never outright admitted that our escapades meant nothing to him, but he also never said they meant anything either. however, they meant everything to me. they gave me hope that maybe he felt the same feeling that i’ve harbored for four years. but then he left with a simple ‘goodbye’.

i foolishly hoped that he would call me when he got back to school, that maybe he was just too nervous to say anything to my face, but now it’s 3 weeks later and the only Hughes’ i’ve heard from are his brothers. Jack texting me random updates of his life every day, and Luke and i speaking on the phone when i wished him a happy birthday earlier this month.

and i can’t make the excuse of ‘he’s busy.’ because i see him on social media, partying after wins and hanging out with friends between classes. he surely has enough free time to call me or even send a simple text. but, i suppose he doesn’t care to contact me because it never meant anything to him; and i guess he assumed it wasn’t anything to me either.

**NOVEMBER 16TH, 2018**

a glass of wine secured in my hand, i’m sat on the couch, scrolling through social media. my parents went out for a date night, leaving me with a house to myself for the night, and i’ve taken advantage by cracking open a bottle of wine and actually leaving my room. it wasn’t much, but i was relaxed. my thumb swipes over my phone screen, scrolling down my instagram timeline, and i stop at a picture of Quinn.

His arm is around a blonde girl’s shoulders as she hugs his waist, a small smile gracing his lips while she wears a large, toothy grin. it’s been months since i’ve last spoken with him, yet it doesn’t make it sting any less to see him with another girl. tears well in my eyes at the remembrance of his easy dismissal of me. the way that he left at the end of the summer with nothing more than a ‘bye.’

maybe it’s the adrenaline pumping through my veins, maybe the fact that i’m over feeling worthless over a guy, or maybe it’s the nearly entire bottle of wine that’s flushing through me right now; but i’ve finally had enough. swiping out of instagram, i scroll through my contacts until i find the one i’m searching for, my thumb hovering close over the call button but too hesitant to actually press it.

“this is stupid.” i mutter to myself, hanging my head. it’s in that moment that my dog decides to come over, sniffing me and nudging at the back of my phone, resulting in the tapping of the button. “shit!”

it’s too late now, the damage is done. he’ll get notified that i called him, regardless of if i were to hang up right now anyways, so i bring the phone up to my ear, listening to it ring. once. twice. a third time, before it connects.

“y/n? what’s up?” his voice is raspy and i wonder if i woke him. it’s only ten at night, but if i remember correctly, he has a game tomorrow, so it doesn’t surprise me that he would be asleep this early. i take a deep breath, mentally preparing myself for the words that need to be said.

“you’re a shitty person, you know that?” i surprise even myself with the anger that comes through with my words. my honest feelings being spoken.

“i’m sorry?” he sounds confused, but it’s not an actual apology, it’s more of an ‘excuse me?’ if anything.

“you heard me. you’re an asshole.” i tell him, rising to my feet to pace around my living room, my dog following me like a shadow. “i wish i had never met you.”

“okay, ouch, hold on, what did i do?” he questions. i hear shuffling in the background and i assume he’s sitting up in his bed now. “we haven’t even spoken in like, what? two and a half months?”

“exactly! that’s the problem!” i’m acutely aware that i’m raising my voice at this point, but i just don’t understand how he doesn’t see the issue with this.

“you’re mad at me because i haven’t talked to you lately? i still don’t understand.” i halt my pacing at his words, my dog bumping into the backs of my legs at my abrupt stop.

“i’m mad because you strung me along this past august. i’m mad because you left me with nothing but a simple ‘bye’. i’m mad because i’ve liked you for the past four years and then you didn’t even have the decency to explain to me whatever it was that we were doing this summer!” i huff. “i would’ve understood if you just told me it meant nothing to you. that you just wanted some action or whatever. but instead you didn’t tell me shit! you let me believe that maybe you liked me back. that maybe we could have been something. and then you just left me with radio silence and i have to see you on social media with girls hanging off of you and wonder if i just wasn’t good enough. that’s why i’m mad.”

Quinn is silent for a few moments, maybe holding out to see if i’m done, maybe gathering his thoughts, but it’s eerily quiet. but then as quickly as the silence started, it ends.

“y/n.” he sighs my name, sounding exhausted. “if i knew how you felt, i would’ve tried to define what we were doing. i wasn’t sure what was happening, just that i liked spending time with you and i liked being close to you.”

“being close to me? or fucking me?” i ask him.

“both, y/n/n. is that what you wanna hear?” he’s getting frustrated, i can hear it. “yes. i liked fucking you. and i liked being with you. just us two. i’m sorry that i didn’t call you, i thought that’s how you wanted it. but, i see now that i should’ve talked to you about it instead of assuming. i didn’t realize that what we were doing meant so much to you. but you could’ve ended it at any point.”

“why would you think i would do that? that i would end it? i’m literally telling you right now that i wanted more.” i heave out a breath, dropping back onto the couch and pulling my legs up to my chest. “Quinn, i just wanted you to call me. to say something, i don’t know! say you had fun this summer, say you can’t wait to see me next summer, say you like me, say you hate me, anything. just don’t go silent on me and make me think i’m insane for thinking you like me as much as i like you.”

“i’m so sorry, y/n.” he mutters, i quiet and slow. “i should’ve talked to you. i should’ve told you that i felt the same. i should’ve thought about how you were feeling and not just me. but now that i know, i’d really like to try.”

“you would?” i inquire, keeping my antsy fingers busy by picking at a stray string on my hoodie. “how?”

“maybe… maybe you could come to one of my games? and we could go out to eat afterwards?” he sounds unsure, like maybe he’s afraid i’ll say no.

“like a date?” i ask meekly.

“yeah,” Quinn chuckles and my heart picks up at the sound. i’ve always loved his laugh. “exactly like a date.”

i’m quiet, my bottom lip captured between my teeth, holding back a squeal.

“what do you think?” he pipes up again, once again seeming nervous.

“i think, i’d really like that.” i confess before burying my face in a throw pillow beside me, muffling my excited scream.

when i raise the phone back to my ear, Quinn is laughing; apparently the pillow didn’t cover as much of noise as i thought it would.

“next friday, i have a game against Wisconsin, does that work?”

“sounds perfect.” i grin, nodding my head, even though he can’t see me.

“okay, i’ll see you then?”

“i’ll see you then.” i confirm.

“goodnight, y/n/n. i can’t wait to see you.” he tells me and i repeat a ‘goodnight’ before we hang up.

i look down at my dog, who stares at me with his head tilted.

“Ollie, you are a matchmaker.” i coo, scratching behind his ears. his mouth drops open, his tongue falling out in content as i dote on him.

**November 23rd, 2018**

today is the day.

i spent all morning getting ready; my hair is done, my makeup perfected, and i tried on about six different outfits before my mother told me to stop worrying and just go.

and after a three and a half hour drive, in which i had to pull over twice to shake myself out and get my jitters out; i’ve pulled into Yost Ice Arena with 10 minutes to spare before the game starts.

Quinn and i have texted non-stop since we planned tonight, and he assured me last night on the phone, that there’ll be a ticket waiting for me at the front.

pulling the keys from the ignition, i grab my purse and do a once-over of my face in the rearview mirror before exiting the vehicle. stretching my legs, i make my way inside the arena, stopping to get my ticket before i head in towards the seating.

i’m sat towards the middle, a perfect view of the ice. my legs shake in anxiety as the crowd roars, the players filing on the ice and getting faceoff position.

it’s amazing how much i’ve learned about hockey in the past four years of knowing the Hughes’.

it’s a rather uneventful first period, neither team scoring. the second isn’t much better, Wisconsin scoring once mere minutes into the period, but that’s the only goal. Michigan ties it up in the third, with Quinn landing an assist on the goal, and i’m shaking in nervousness as i hope for a second Michigan goal. but it never comes.

moving onto overtime, neither team scores, resulting in a tie. but the teams still go on, starting a second overtime of three-on-three to determine who gets the extra point. it’s not even a minute into the second overtime when Quinn passes the puck to Josh Norris, who i’ve met once or twice at the lake house, and Josh lands the puck in the back of the net.

the crowd goes wild, me included, jumping up to our feet and cheering as the guys celebrate.

both teams file off of the ice relatively quick, and in result, the crowd begins to fan out. fans leaving the arena. but i stay back.

Quinn told me to meet him out front of the arena in half an hour, so i opt to lounge here for an extra few to kill time, scrolling through instagram and reading Jack’s texts; asking why i’m in Ann Arbor and if i plan to come see him before i leave. stupid Life360.

i call him rather than text, making my way out of the arena as he picks up.

“what are you doing in Ann Arbor?” he cuts straight to the point, not bothering with any catch up.

“well hello to you too.” i chuckle, rolling my eyes.

“yeah, yeah, hi. what are doing in Ann Arbor?” he repeats.

“i came to see Quinn’s game. i promise, i’ll come and see you tomorrow morning before i drive back home.” i assure him. “wait, are you even gonna be back from Illinois in the morning?”

“yeah, we’re on the bus back now.” he assures me.

“okay, good. i saw online that you got an assist! congrats bub!”

“thanks. we still lost though.” he tells me, his voice full of dejection.

“you’ll get ‘em next time!” i reassure, pacing outside Yost, pulling my jacket tighter to my chest to keep myself warm in the cool Michigan air.

“yeah.” he breaths. “so why are you at Quinn’s game?”

his tone is teasing, as though he doesn’t actually believe i’m here for Quinn.

“we’re going on a date.” i admit, preparing myself for his response.

“oooh! you’re finally getting out of the friendzone?!” he exclaims, and i can hear Trevor’s voice chime in from beside him, telling him to quiet down. which i find ironic, considering Trevor is ever the loud mouth.

“what?! you knew i liked him?!” i question, making him chuckle.

“uh, yeah. it was so obvious.” he replies through laughter. “i also know you were hooking up with him this summer. you weren’t very subtle.”

my jaw drops in astonishment.

“we were so subtle!” i shout, and i can hear Trevor piping up again on the other side of the phone.

“who? y/n and Quinn? oh yeah, everyone knew.”

“shut up, Zegras!” i yell, and i can hear both boys bark out in laughter.

“why didn’t you say anything?” i ask.

“who was i to say something, when you were trying so hard to keep it on the down low?” he teases.

i look up from my pacing feet when i hear footsteps, locking eyes with Quinn, who smiles at the sight of me, nearly taking my breath away.

“i gotta go.” i breath out, and Jack lets out an immature ‘oooooooh’

“have fun with my brother!” he calls out and i groan.

“shut up. i’ll see you tomorrow.” i sing, before hanging up.

“my brother?” Quinn questions, as if he already knows the answer.

“yeah.” i nod. “apparently, i found out, we weren’t as subtle as we thought, in August.”

“we were so subtle!” he exclaims, making me giggle.

“that’s what i said!” i tell him. his hand reaches out towards mine, and i anxiously intertwine mine with his. “so, where are we going?”

“there’s a really cute diner, about a fifteen minute walk from here.” he explains, as we begin walking. “i figured we could go there.”

“sounds perfect.” i breath out. his eyes are glued to the cement, watching his feet, but i watch him. “congrats on the assists! i know a tie wasn’t really the outcome you guys were hoping for, but it was a riveting game.”

he laughs, his head dropping back, and a bright smile overtakes my lips at the melodious sound dropping from his.

“babe, there were only two goals in a full hour of game play.” he reminds me.

“babe?” i question, and his hand tightens around mine for a second.

“yeah.” he shrugs, attempting to seem nonchalant, but i can tell by his face, when he turns to me, that he’s nervous. “you’re my girl now.”

“i’m your girl?” i smirk. “i like the sound of that.”

“me too.” he brings us to a halt, turning his body to mine.

his hand rises to cup my cheek, his face lowering to mine until our breaths mingle together. my eyes flutter shut, slowly, and the next thing i know, his lips are crashing against mine in a deep kiss.

and i know, in this moment, i’ll do anything to keep him. because now, he’s mine to lose.