#idk how to explain this but there's this sort of emptiness (????) in my chest

[chaussetteblanche]

and they were roommates pt. 3

pairing : Spencer Reid x fem!student!roommate!reader summary : life on campus with a killer on the loose, the FBI makes an arrest word count : 2k warning : canon-typical violence, swear words (one use of the f-word) A/N : thank you so so much for all the love on this story !!! I'm so glad you all enjoy it <333 I'll probably do a part 4, it may be the last part, idk yet :)

part 1, part 2, part 4

"Spencer, I realise your concern, but lots of women look somewhat like this." It wasn't lost on Spencer what Hotch was trying to do by calling by his first name. "Hotch, she- she could be right next to them. She fits his type right down to the colour of her eyes!" "Spencer, man, you need to think rationally." Derek placed a hand on Spencer's shoulder. "Lots of women have that hair colour and length, it's in style right now, right Emily?" "Yeah, definitely." "Look, I just- I need to make a call."

When Spencer had called you sometime in the evening, you'd been expecting him to tell you he was going to come home late and to not wait up for him. What you weren't expecting was for his voice to be the most serious and stern you'd ever heard it. "Don't go outside until I come home, okay?" He knew it was entirely irrational. The unsub only took women in broad daylight, you weren't facing any more risks than usual. But he couldn't take a chance. Not with this. Not with you. "What? Why?" "Just- I'll explain everything when I come home, I'll be there in a couple hours, but please, don't leave the apartment. And make sure everything is locked." "Spencer, what's going on?" "Can you just-" He paused, forcing himself to remain calm. "Look, do as I say, please. I'll explain everything later, I promise." You hesitated for a moment. Luckily for you, you weren't working at the bar tonight. Luckily for Spencer, you liked him enough to indulge him. "Okay." "Thank you."

"Oh my God, no, absolutely not!" "Y/N, it's for your safety, don't you understand that?!" "My safety? What about my life?"

This was the first real fight you'd ever had. You'd had disagreements, of course, he didn't like you leaving your empty cups and glasses all over the place. You told him off for waking you in the morning by making too much noise. Sometimes you'd get jealous if Geoffrey slept in Spencer's bed rather than yours. Yes, you'd had your fair share of arguments, but none quite like this.

"I'm not asking you to give up your life, you're being totally-" You scoffed loudly, interrupting him. "Spencer, you might as well! Do you realise what you're suggesting I do? You want me to give up on going outside, not go to any of my classes, not see any of my friends, not go to work, don't you see what bullshit that is? It's putting a cross on my social life, my education and my work!" You gesticulated angrily as you speak, feeling heat rising to your face. "I already told you, it's for your own safety." He sighed loudly, pinching the bridge of his nose in annoyance. He wasn't even looking at you. A tiny, tiny piece of you wanted to slap him. "I will not stop living my life because some psycho thinks it's fun to kill innocent girls! I won't!" You crossed your arms over your chest and resisted the urge to stomp your foot.

"You're being incredibly childish right now." You hated how he managed to stay calm. You wanted him to get just as angry as you were, livid even. It wasn't fair that you were the only one getting upset. "Are you making all the girls who look like me give up everything for the sake of their safety?" Your tone was mocking and mean but you didn't have it in you to care at the moment. He met your eyes at last, lips turned downwards into a frown. Finally, some sort of emotion. "Don't do that, Y/N," he warned in a low voice. "No, I think it's a valid question. Is your boss making an announcement to the press that all the girls in Mary Washington University who look like the three last girls should stay inside? Is he?" you pushed. Spencer looked away from you again, shaking his head in disbelief at your attitude. "No, he isn't."

"Then why do you expect me to do that?!" You threw your hands in the air, beyond frustrated. For a logical person, Spencer's behaviour wasn't making any sense at the moment. "I don't expect you to do it. I want you to do it, I need you to do it." You could feel his calm facade breaking, piece by piece. "Why, Spencer, fucking why?!" "Because!" He finally exploded, jumping to his feet and slapping his palms onto the table. You didn't jump. "Because it's you, Y/N! I can't work this case if I know you're in danger every single day! If I know yours could be the next dead body students ogle at on the university's front lawn! If I know it's your picture they're going to hang up next to the other victims! I just can't do it!"

Oh.

You let yourself fall down on the couch, running your hands over your face. You were both stepping into uncharted territory. You'd tip-toed this line before but had never crossed it yet. And this was not the way to do it. You were not going to cross the border from friendship into something more by screaming at each other. Spencer seemed to read your silence as distress.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to yell." He softly trudged over to the couch and sat down next to you. "No, it's okay, I- I kind of wanted you to. I'm sorry for getting so upset." You take his hand in your lap and intertwine your fingers. "I understand, I'm asking too much of you, it's selfish." He gives your hand a squeeze. "I just can't stand the thought of anything happening to you." You sit in silence for a little while, processing.

"I just can't hide while I wait for other girls to be killed, Spencer, it wouldn't be fair." Sometimes, Spencer hated how good of a person you were. If your morals and personal ethics were some of the things he liked about you the most, he couldn't help but curse them in this moment. "I don't care about fair," he mumbled, hating how puerile he sounded. You cooed and laid your head on his shoulder. "I know, I'm sorry."

"I won't promise you anything, but I'll try to always be with someone around campus. I'm usually with my friends anyway. And I can share my location with you all the time if that's reassuring for you." "I'd like that, thank you. And... what about when you're at work?" "I can ask Paul to walk me to my car." Paul was the manager at the bar you worked at, Quantequila. His past was a mysterious blend of prison, MMA fighting and crochet clubs. He liked you plenty and you knew he wouldn't mind walking you to your car for a while. "Thank you."

Over the next week, you did just that. Many students started moving in groups and avoiding being alone at all costs after the FBI released the profile and the pictures of the last victims.

"We're looking for a local white man, early twenties. He may have moved here a year ago, we figure he's either in his first year of BA or MA. This is someone you don't notice, he's shy and introverted, he doesn't participate in class and he won't talk to people if he can help it, especially not women. This man is a loner and does his best to be invisible. We think he stalks his victims for a while before attacking them, so if you start seeing someone you've never seen before in strange places, please notify us. My name is Aaron Hotchner and you'll find the hotline on the screen you're watching this on."

You always had at least two friends with you whenever you were roaming about on campus. Though no one really spoke about the situation, the energy had changed. People were becoming tense and suspicious. Friends were fighting over who should accompany who, when and where. A place which had once gathered so many motivated and joyous students now had those very people looking over their shoulder.

You hated it.

Truly, you didn't want to underestimate this killer, but you were getting tired of it all. You'd wish the BAU would just catch him, but, as Spencer had explained to you multiple times, they had incredibly little to go on. What you knew without him telling you was that they needed another victim to predict his next move. Still, you were a person who appreciated alone time and you had gotten none in the last 10 days. So, when two of your friends who were supposed to walk with you from your class to the subway bailed on you, you weren't that upset.

You put your headphones on, listening to your favourite song of the moment and started walking. You had a tendency of getting lost in your thoughts and didn't notice the sound of heavy footsteps following your own over your music. What you did notice though, was the reflection of someone walking close behind you in a cafe window. You looked over your shoulder, frowning. The sun was in your eyes, blocking your vision, but you managed to perceive an average-sized man with long-ish black hair which hung around his face in greasy strands. Not thinking too much of it, you continued on your way.

You didn't think too much of it when you saw him sitting a few tables away from you when you were studying one afternoon at the library. You were captivated by the Middle English poem under your eyes, wondering what the author had meant with the particular use of the kenning "earth-cave". When you looked up and caught his eyes, cold and unnerving, you didn't overthink it. There were some weird people on campus. Who were you to judge?

When you saw him at your grocery store, though, that was when you started worrying. You were picking up a box of After-Eights for Spencer when you saw him looking at oatmeal raisin biscuits. What really tipped you off was that no one really liked those, so he must have been pretending to look occupied. A chill ran down your spine as all the other places you'd spotted him came back to you. Your lecture hall, the cafeteria, sitting in the lawn under a tree, the main hall,...

You decided that the next time you would see him, you'd tell Spencer. You didn't want him to worry if this turned out to be nothing. Maybe the man was just an exchange student? Or had joined during the academic year?

Two days later, the FBI made an arrest. A man named Ben Colton fitted the profile exactly. In his dorm room, they'd found pictures of women who looked exactly like the last victims and of resembling women on campus, you were part of them. You didn't know that, Spencer had felt you didn't need to be aware of that specific detail. The only problem was that the BAU had no physical evidence tying him to the crimes yet. The arrest had been sanctioned by higher authorities while physical proof was searched for. Police dogs and officers had been tearing through all of his possessions while Garcia had gone through his entire online life. Nothing tying him to the murders had been found.

The general public knew nothing of this, of course. To them, someone getting arrested meant they could go on with their usual lives. The man you'd been seeing left and right had left your mind entirely as you celebrated your regained freedom with your friends.

Of course, Spencer had warned you. They were 99% sure this was the unsub, they just needed the evidence. That didn't eliminate the 1% chance it wasn't him. But 99% chances were good enough for you. You trusted the BAU. Specifically, you trusted Spencer. With your life.

So you started living your life normally again. You left for class a little later because you didn't need to walk with your other friends. You stopped sharing your location with Spencer. You put the volume of your music higher again. You started leaving your pepper spray at home. You started texting while walking again.

Needless to say, you were wholly unprepared for the violent blow to your head as you walked to class one morning. How ironic, you thought as you blacked out, that Mary Goldman had probably experienced the same thing exactly two weeks prior.

Taglist : (all of you who asked for a part three <3) @princess-ofthe-pages @usuck @theylovemelody @empressgraytea @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @lillianacristina @venomsvl @user-3113s-blog @pumpkin-cake @redros3y @faunrasthewinterelf @puppykinsthepotato @bookishnerd1132 @bonza-bear @teeshamcbeesha @hades-disappointment-child @princesssparkle2024 @darlingcharling-blog @yasmin12312 @khxna @jamieeboulos

[tetsumie]

"𝐘𝐎𝐔'𝐑𝐄 𝐒𝐎 𝐂𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐘"

read part 2 here!

pairing: tsukishima x reader & suna x reader

genre: hurt/comfort

content: the boys call you clingy but they don’t mean it

a/n: sorry i got carried away writing these ahh i sort of twisted the prompt of "when they call you clingy" into my own sort of thing idk how to explain but hopefully this turned out well :,) also not proofread so sorry about the mistakes! and as always feel free to send me requests and tell me ur thoughts on my writing!

tsukishima kei

tsukishima, you, and a few of the former karsuno volleyball players decided to have a small little reunion dinner after not seeing each other for so long.

everyone's embracing each other with hugs and to be frank, it's really nice of him to invite you to meet his friends from high school! you're really looking forward to getting to know them and maybe even getting to know your boyfriend a bit more.

as all of you are sitting at the table debating what to order, there's much chit chat between everyone and you swear you haven't seen kei so carefree in a while. sure, he's still throwing his sarcastic, snarky comments but they don't hit too harshly towards his teammates.

they are most definitely used to this.

the food has arrived and way too much wine has been ordered. with their slurred words and pink cheeks, you can tell all of them are going to blackout the moment they all get home.

"kei, so how'd you pull this gorgeous girl?" tanaka asks out of nowhere "ain't no way she fell for your snarky ass personality."

you and him both let out a chuckle and he replied with, "nah, they're just clingy as fuck and i guess they were fun to keep around."

you go quiet and the laughter has sort of died out. but the drinks keep pouring and nishinoya speaks.

"god, you're a fucking asshole," nishinoya chimes. "she's way too good for you.

although the conversation begins to take a turn in a different direction, you can't seem to get his words out of your mind.

clingy. he thinks i'm clingy.

a ball of insecurity starts to form in your stomach and his comment starts the train of overthinking. you keep telling yourself that he's had too many drinks.

yet a part of you is telling you that drunk thoughts are sober words.

how long has he thought of me as "clingy?"

the small chuckles and laughs that escape your lips have come to a halt and now you're feeling incredibly insecure. you begin to zone out and start chugging down a few glasses of wine to drown out your surroundings.

after a few eventful hours, you and tsukishima decide to grab a taxi and head home for the night. he unlocks the door to your shared apartment and you immediately head into the bedroom to change your clothes, not sparing him a second glance.

tsukishima enters the bed after cleaning up and his arm drapes over your chest. your body goes completely stiff and you're super uncomfortable with his touch, especially after his comment about you being clingy.

the moment you hear his light snores, you slowly remove his arm off your body and turn to face away from him. a feeling of numbness begins to overtake your body and you feel a sense of emptiness within.

the next morning, tsukishima woke up with a horrible headache and he instantly regretted drinking so much last night. he groans and pats your side of the bed and is greeted by just the bedsheets and not you.

grumbling, he got out of bed in search of you and finds you standing by the balcony with a cup of coffee in your hand. in that moment, his heart skips a beat and he's reminded of how much he loves you.

you yelp in surprise when you feel two arms slither around your torso and his chin resting on your shoulder. "good morning baby," he kisses your cheek.

"hi kei," you say curtly.

"what's for breakfast?"

"i just made myself toasted bread with jam. you can just make some cereal or something. i think we still have your lucky charms in the pantry," you tell him.

he pulls away from you and he feels something is off with you. you feel distant.

the feeling is confirmed when the both of you are sitting on the living room sofa while watching the new episode of your favorite reality tv show. kei expects you to come close to him and rest your head on his shoulder like you usually do yet there you are, in his vicinity, but sitting on the other end of the couch, clinging to a throw pillow.

he can't seem to concentrate on the movie when the only thing he can see is you sitting to yourself, gone completely quiet. he doesn't know what's wrong and he can't rack his mind as to what might have happened that made you so distant.

after the movie ends, he kisses your forehead and he feels your body stiffen.

what's going on? i don't know what i did?

he pulls away and looks at you. "y/n, something's wrong," he states.

you refuse to meet his gaze now and your twiddling with your fingers. he seems to have no recollection of what he's said to you last night. although, he might not recall what he said, it's the only thing you can recall in your mind. ever since this morning, whenever, you look at him, the only thing running in your mind is his words, "nah, she's just clingy as fuck and i guess she was fun to keep around."

"we're good," you reply promptly. "don't worry about it."

he grabs your hands and puts them in his which catches you off guard. you love the feeling of his hand in yours but the rational part of your brain wants to pull away, thinking about how he thought you were so clingy.

"listen, i'm not good at this. i'm not good at communicating my feelings but for you, i want to do better. so please, it would mean a lot if you could tell me what's wrong so i can help you and... us."

this is the most genuine you've seen him in a while and although to most, it may have seemed like some half-assed speech but to you, it felt raw and vulnerable.

"ok well," you began. "last night, when we were out with your friends, you were talking with your friends and well, you mentioned something about me. and it made me wonder if you think i'm clingy?"

he was confused. "no, i don't think you're clingy anymore? i don't know what you're talking about?"

the "anymore" in his response to you was something that saddened you a little. he found me clingy yet never told me?

"so you did think i was clingy, right?"

with a deep breath, he began to explain himself, "when we got together, i wasn't really used to... being so close to someone. you would always hold my hand or loop your arm in mine or something. you would always be holding me or touching me and i wasn't sure how i felt it about it at first. i was never one for physical touch so when you began to show that to me, i just... it felt... suffocating."

you're looking into his eyes, swimming with sadness and searching for answers, and he feels a mixture of sadness and guilt as he continues to explain himself.

"but being with you, i've grown to love your touch and honestly, now that i think about it, i don't know what i'd do if you just stopped being yourself and clinging on to me. i would go insane if you stopped."

kei leans in for a hug and you hug him back. you missed holding him like this and well, you just miss him. but now that kei has said all this, you're not sure about anything anymore.

you pull away and tell him, "i'm sorry you couldn't tell me that you were uncomfortable with my touches. i should have asked you how fast or slow you wanted to go and i shouldn't have forced my affection on to you."

"if you want, we can slow down. i understand," you say with a tone of finality in your voice.

"no!" he immediately replied. "it's.. it's not that. you don't force your affection on to me. you never have. i just am awkward with affection and growing up, i've never had it so i'd get super fidgety and that's why i think i felt like you were being clingy. but i love it."

"i love it when you hold my hand when we're walking to the grocery store. i love it when you doodle on my hand with your fingers when we're waiting for the food to come when we eat out. i love it when you tell me about the little stories from work while you're cooking dinner. i love it when you mumble in your sleep and snuggle close to me when it gets cold at night. i love everything about you."

kei was very much out of his comfort zone as he told you all these things and it surprised you that he noticed all these little details. you could tell he was getting embarrassed, considering how his cheeks were turning pink. you couldn't help but let a little smile seep through your facial features.

"you're so sappy," you reply.

"oh shut up."

you both laugh and then he cups your cheek in his hand, rubbing his thumb in circles. "don't ever think you force your affection on me because you never do, okay?"

"okay, kei."

the both of you spend the rest of the day with one another, making comforting memories together that the both of you will fondly remember in the future.

suna rintaro

you're not even sure how this argument even started. all you can remember is asking suna if he could accompany you to a work party that you were invited to. it was supposed to be a relatively relaxing event with not too much worries yet suna was once again trying to bail out.

"come on rin! it's one party and we never get to go out anymore," you try again for the nth time.

"y/n, jesus, i told you this, i don't want to fucking go! practice is draining me out and the one day i get off, you want me to go to some stupid fucking work party. can't you see that i want to be home?"

"we won't even have to be there that long! i just want you to come with me so you can meet some of my friends and support me. i'm really not asking for much," you counter. "i'm always trying to go to your games to support you from the stands and i'm asking you to do this one thing for me."

"i never fucking asked you to come to my games!" suna's voice began to rise and you felt yourself shrink. you had never seen him so intensely angry before. he was always so nonchalant so seeing this side of him made you nervous. "god, you're just so suffocating with everything. you always wanna do shit together, like jeez, give me a break. you're so fucking clingy sometimes; i just want space."

your mouth snaps shut and you can't find it in yourself to even reply. suna leaves the bedroom and you can head the jangle of his keys and the front door opens and then slams shut. a tear escapes from one eye and then all of a sudden, it's a full blown mental breakdown. you're sitting on the bed, crying off all your makeup.

after your cries turn into sniffles, you call up one of your colleagues, telling them you won't be attending the party. that night, you end up crying yourself to sleep.

suna had come home quite late that night after storming out.

in his head, he admits that the argument had blown up for no reason. but he just really didn't want to see your coworkers. he was cranky, annoyed, and irritated, making him deeply irrational.

as he walks into the bedroom, he sees you fast asleep in your clothes that you were planning to go out in and your makeup smudged all over your face. he felt incredibly guilty.

he messed up big time and he had to fix this. he hoped in the morning, the both of you would wake up together so he could talk it out and apologize.

you wake up the next morning feeling a lot better than last night. you turn to see suna lying in bed and a part of you just wants to run your fingers through your hair. as your fingers hover above his head, you're reminded of his words from last night.

you're so fucking clingy sometimes. i just want space.

your fingers immediately retracted and you decided to get up to start the rest of your day. you didn't want to let his words get to you. he said his opinion and there's nothing much you could do other than give him space. you'd be doing him a favor by giving him that space that he wanted, right?

suna shifts in bed, arm reaching out to your side of the bed, subconsciously. as he pats down your side of the bed, he feels the emptiness and he jolts up out of bed.

he's walking out of the bedroom and he sees you sitting on the couch, watching something on the television.

a sigh of relief escapes his mouth, thanking whatever deity out there that you hadn't left. even if you did, he couldn't blame you for it. he hurt you and there was no denying that.

"hi babe," he casually says alouds and plops on the couch next to you.

"hey."

your tone is cold and to be frank, you could care less than speak to him right now. seeing him is just a constant reminder of how clingy you are and you really don't want to be confronted with the feeling of sadness again.

in an attempt to smooth things over with you, he tries to start conversation in hopes that things will get back to normal naturally and maybe.. just maybe you'll know that he's sorry without him saying it.

"osamu was talking about some new onigiri thing he made and he wanted to drop some off for us to try. should i say yes?" he asked.

"sure."

your responses to his efforts are completely shut down and he's just praying that things get better with time. he reassures himself that things will go back to normal, it's just a matter of time. within a few days, things will be back to normal!

that's what he thought until his first volleyball match of the season came about. as he was standing in the court, his eyes scanned the rest of the stadium for your figure in hopes of finding you wearing his jersey but to no avail, he couldn't find you.

he assumed you were running late or stuck in traffic. no matter what you would be here, right?

but the first set is already over and you're nowhere to be seen. taking a quick break, he texts you:

suna: r u here?

suna: i don't see u in the stands.

it's delivered and suna's back in the court. he's misreading all of the opponent's attacks and his blocks are all being haphazardly done. the only thing on his mind is you.

the EJP coach calls for a timeout and sits him out for the rest of the match. "i don't know what's going on with you but you need to pull it together. your slacking is messing up with the rest of the team," coach berated him and all suna could do was nod his head.

he sat on the bench and immediately grabs his phone to text you.

suna: can you please answer?

suna: or call me? please?

suna: fuck y/n

suna: r u ok?

with no response, concern is etched onto his face. he tells his coach that he has to go and although he's about to suffer hell when he goes to practice tomorrow for dipping, he needs to see you.

you're seeing all of his messages.

you've seen all of them.

and you don't want to respond to a single one of them.

you know he's coming home and he's about to bombard you with questions and you don't want to respond to him. you don't want to come off as clingy again.

you hear the jangle of the keys and prepare yourself.

he opens the door and finds you in the kitchen, making yourself some snacks.

"so where were you today?" he begins.

"at home."

his hands find their way to your waist and he slowly turns you around to look him in the eye. "why didn't you come?"

you sigh in frustration. "i don't know what you want from me. you say i'm clingy and you want some space and on top of that you mentioned how you've never asked me to go to any of your games so here i am respecting your wishes like you asked yet you have the fucking audacity to ask me where i was and why i wasn't with you?"

his hands let go of your waist and he steps back to fully look at you.

"rin, i don't know what you want from me anymore."

suna's mouth opens and then shuts, not sure as to what to say to you. you were more upset about his comment than you let on and now all your anger and frustration was coming out.

"listen, i-"

"no, you listen to me," you interrupt, immediately shutting him up. "all i wanted that night was for you to come to my work party. it's all i wanted. that party was mainly for me because i helped our company reach this new milestone! and i wanted you to come and celebrate with me and my colleagues. is it so much to ask for my boyfriend to come support me?"

"and then you go on to say i'm clingy and do you have any idea how much it hurt me when you said that? when you would talk to me about anything, the only thing going through my head would be the fact that you called me clingy and god, i just wanted to vanish in thin air because i hated knowing that you thought that of me which is why i gave you your space. i kept thinking you just didn't want my affection."

you rest your elbows on the kitchen countertop and put your face in your hands. you finally burst out with all the feelings that have been suffocating your mind. it felt good to finally relieve it all but you could only imagine what was going through his mind. was he mad or upset or did he just not care about my feelings?

all of a sudden, you feel two arms wrap around your torso and kisses to the top of your head.

"love, you're not clingy. if anything, i'm the clingy one. i always want you by my side like at my games or when i go out with my friends or even if i'm just lying in bed. i want you."

he strokes your hair and now you're turning around to look at him again. his eyes are wide and a bit glassy. this is probably one of the first times you've seen emotion on his face aside from his regular snarky remarks.

"i wish i could take back what i said that night but i can't. but please know that i don't know what i'd do without you. i was really upset that night and all i wanted to was just sleep it off. but your insistence to go got me aggravated and i lashed out. you don't deserve that. you never deserve that."

"i want to be the one you wake up to in the morning. i want to be the one you take to all your work parties and events. i want to be the one you tell you gossip with. i want to be the one you have your late night talks with. i want to be the one you end your nights with. i want to be the one you spend the rest of your life with. i want to be yours."

tears started to escape your eyes and your heart was swollen. suna was never one to be so open with his emotions yet here he was opening so much to you. you hug his torso and sob into his chest.

"i love you, i'm sorry," you say.

"i love you too, and i'm sorry too," he replies, kissing the top of your forehead.

© tetsumie 2024 all rights reserved 

[grabby-smitten]

How to build a fence in 3 steps

Subjects: Sylus Qin x F!Reader

Word Count: 1.5k+

Content: A sad attempt at comedy, crackfic, interactions, no beta and not edited, commas placed everywhere, idk… let me know if i missed anything. Zayne, Rafayel and Xavier are main characters… sort of…

When you finally became his and how he subtly let everyone know.

Sylus is not the jealous type, but he is always sure to be very clear about boundaries and limits. He’s very meticulous about it and he likes to let people know whenever that changes. Like building fences for a new empty lot he just acquired so no one would misunderstand and try to get in. He’s defining property lines.

Step 1: Plan the layout, measure and mark.

You’ve been staying longer and longer within the N109 Zone since your relationship became sort of official. Well, official for you and Sylus and probably the twins. Nobody else could really know you were kind of dating the head of Onychinus for various obvious reasons.

Commuting from one place to another became a bit of a hassle so you would let Sylus know in advance about your schedule and let him or Mephisto escort you back safely.

And today was one of those days. You have an appointment with your primary care physician, in other words, doctor Zayne. It’s been days since you let Sylus know about your visit to Akso hospital today but he seemed to have different plans.

“Sylus,” you called out of breath, once again trying to get his attention. Which was becoming a difficult task for both of you since you were sitting on his desk, legs wide surrounding his waist as he nestled in your neck. “Sylus… I gotta- I gotta go,”

He hummed, acknowledging your words but not moving a muscle to do as you said. He has been toying with your collarbone and neck for a while and you weren’t complaining before, but the reminder for your appointment already rang twice.

“You’re not really stopping me either, kitten,” the buttons of your shirt began to pop one by one as Sylus descended to your chest. His lips nibbled at your already tender skin and your frustration began to grow… your breathing became heavier… your hands gripping Sylus’ jacket…

When suddenly he halted his movements. Leaving a final kiss on your temple, he began to fix your clothes as if nothing happened.

“I think you’re right, let’s get you to the hospital,” in a daze, you tried to regain some composure.

A smirk played at the corner of Sylus’ lips as he accompanied you to your bike, wishing you a safe ride. He added that you should let him know once you arrived at the hospital.

“These don’t look like something a wanderer would make,” Zayne inspected the marks around your neck and down your chest. They were a bit more prominent around the area where the stethoscope should go.

You sat there, listening to Zayne’s words— completely and utterly mortified once realization hit you. You had left in a hurry, forgetting the small situation you and Sylus had been in.

“It’s not what you think—“ you began to explain but Zayne cut you short.

“Sure, then enlighten me, please,” sarcasm dripped from every word Zayne uttered.

“It’s… it’s… it’s iron deficiency.” you spoke under your breath. It was the first thing that came to your mind and quickly regretted it, mentally facepalming yourself.

“You know I’m your doctor, right?” Yeah, you knew and that’s why you internally cringed at his rebuke.

“Then as my doctor, you should know,” but, of course, you wouldn’t back down at this point.

With a deep sigh, Zayne quickly took his notepad and wrote down a few lines.

“Okay, then. For your iron deficiency.” He handed you the note which you put in your jacket without checking it. You just wanted to leave fast and pray so that Zayne could forget everything that just happened.

Once you left the hospital you finally felt like you could breathe. As you walked towards the parking lot, you pulled the prescription and your eyes widened as soon as you read what he wrote. Even your step faltered. He did not just prescribe you, contraceptives. That wasn’t even his area of expertise, you thought as you crumbled the paper, fisting it and aggressively shoving it down your pocket.

Once alone, Zayne couldn’t help but go over your visit again and again.

“What is she dating? A leech?” The doctor sighed, hunched over his desk as the whole situation passed through his mind for a fifth time. Debating whether he should be concerned or not.

Step 2: Dig the holes and add the concrete

Balance is the key to everything, right? So that’s why Sylus suggested that he can stay in your place too. Closer to your work and everything you own is there. He doesn’t mind, on the contrary, it’s lovely to be surrounded by your presence all the time. He finds you in the little details scattered all over your apartment and thinks it’s cute. Very you.

Xavier, your neighbor and fellow hunter, has begun to notice things too. Things about you and well, your private life. How could he not, even your trash had doubled.

Xavier noticed that it’s no longer just your stuff that’s lying around your apartment. Every time he asked to borrow something or meet for the monthly neighborhood meeting, there was more stuff at your place.

He took notice of the new pair of indoor shoes at your entrance, too big for your feet. The dark coat at your hanger and the leather jacket on your kitchen’s stool. All men’s size.

Xavier could even smell a faint new perfume all over your place too, and it wasn’t yours. He also heard the other neighbors gossiping about Y/N’s new handsome “friend” who visited quite often. How come he has never seen him?

Today wasn’t any different for Xavier. He just came to ask if he could borrow some eggs since he already burned the twelve-pack he got at the convenience store in the morning. So why? why were you cooking for more than one person and had the whole table ready for what seemed to be a romantic dinner?

He watched you roam around your fridge in search of the eggs and couldn’t help himself. His curiosity was killing him.

“So… you’re making dinner for two?”

“Ah!” You exclaimed, hitting your head against the fridge door. His question took you by surprise. “Yeah, cooking is not my forte but alas.”

“Tell me about it,” Xavier felt bad. The bump in your head that would probably begin to grow any moment now showed how little you wanted to talk about your dinner plans.

So he took the eggs, thanked you and left.

At his apartment, he noticed the brand of eggs wasn’t the usual one you always got. This one was more expensive. Yeah, he was sure you had someone else living there and yes, for some reason that irritated him a bit.

Step 3: Attach, cap and stain

“Ah, my boss wishes to acquire this piece for his girlfriend.” The guy buying Rafayel’s painting had sent a representative. It was not unusual but it was extremely boring.

“I think that’s very romantic, don’t you think?” Thomas added. He had to because Rafayel didn’t seem to be interested in anything they were talking about.

But now he realized that he should have paid attention.

Rafayel barely remembered the words of his latest transaction. How eager Thomas looked because the buyer had offered triple the amount of the original price. Now Rafayel stood shocked, seeing his own painting on your wall never crossed his mind. Especially the one he sold to be a gift for someone’s girlfriend.

It was a pretty small frame, something he did on a whim so what the hell was it doing here? And not at the supposed girlfriend’s house? This wasn’t right.

“Hey—Y/N!” He frantically called you over, “Y/N!” Again, he shouted like he was being murdered.

“Rafayel just a second—“ you were looking for your guns. Sylus had cleaned them earlier but you didn’t know where he put them.

“No! Why is this painting here?” He was about to hyperventilate and burn down his own painting.

“I swear if you say it’s ugly, I’ll smack you,” you said, walking out of your room and joining him at the entrance of your place.

“That’s not it! It’s mine!” He pointed an accusatory finger at the framed painting.

“Clearly not, because this is my place, last time I checked.” You frowned at his outburst which by now you were used to, but not… exactly like this one.

“That’s not— I mean I painted it!” Frustration was clear in his voice as he placed his hands on your shoulders and shook you back and forth.

“Ah… well, that’s go— wait what?!” You widened your eyes as you processed his words.

You were going to kill Sylus. But first, you needed to calm Rafayel down and then find your weapons.

Yes, nobody knew you were dating the head of Onychinus but they all sure knew you weren’t in the market anymore.

And that’s how Sylus fenced his property in just three steps.

Extra:

Luke and Kieran have never seen Mephisto so tired. What kind of mission had the boss given him? There wasn’t any super important job at Onychinus today.

The twins took pity on the crow. It seemed to be missing some feathers too.

[normal-internet-user]

Hi there! i read your percy one and it was sooo so good, i was wondering if you could do “I didn’t know where else to go” with a percy x reader. and it could be like some sort of an enemies or rivals to lovers, i’m also a huge angst girlie and idk why.

thx so much hope you’re doing so well and have the best day!!🥰🥰❤️❤️💙💙

I'm a total angst girlie too, make me an emotional mess please and thank you-

....................................

SCARED FOR YOU

♡~~♡~~♡~~♡~~♡

Summary: Percy Jackson shows up at your front door bruised and battered, god this boy was going to scare you to death..

Warnings: Angst; mentions of injury (not very descriptive); Hurt/comfort; No mentioned godly parents for reader.

Requested: Yea

GN Reader!

The last thing you ever expected to see at your door was your very own son of Posiden on the verge of unconciousness.

"Percy?! What the hell happened?" You let out a low grunt when he practcally collapses into your arms.

"I didn't know where else to go." He whispers, shuddering.

You huffed, hauling him into your apartment. Luckily your parent was at work, so you didn't have to worry about explaining anything.

You moved him to the couch as gently as you could, finally taking in the full stretch of his injuries.

"Oh for the love of Zeus, Jackson." You mutter, your heart racing, "Just- sit still. I think I have some ambrosia squares in my room."

"'Kay..." Percy mumbles, his hand pressed tightly to his side while his face was twisted into a grimace.

You rushed to your bedroom, digging around in your bags and drawers until you found the little tupperware container that held your emergency ambrosia.

You then moved to the apartments small bathroom and grabbed as many medical supplies as you could carry.

With your arms full, you ran back to the couch, nearly tripping over the rug in your hurry. You haphazardly drop the bandages and other stuff onto the coffee table, handing Percy afew of the ambrosia squares.

You decided to speed up the process by getting Percy a glass of water, but with the state he was in, he'd still need patched up.

"Were you followed by anything?" You asks quietly, lifting his shirt to clean one of the larger cuts the ambrosia couldn't deal with.

"No, I wouldn't have showed up here if I was." Percy says, setting the now empty glass on the table, "Thanks. For helping me."

"Well I'm not just gonna let you bleed out on my foorstep." You grumble, wrapping his chest, "You're an idiot. Ya know that? What were you thinking? You know what, nevermind. You weren't thinking."

"Aw, are you worried?" Percy asks, seemingly amused at how upset you were.

"Of course I'm worried!" You snap, glaring up at him, watching the amusement fade away. God he was so insufferable. Stupid Percy Jackson and his dumb pretty face.

"You could have died, Percy." You say angrily, pushing alittle harder than you mean to on one of his bruises, "But everythings just so funny! Haha I'm Percy Jackson and I don't care if I get eaten by a friggin' monster! Everything's just dandy!" you rant through gritted teeth, stomping over to the trash can to toss out the bloodied cloth you'd used to clean his wounds.

Percy stares at you for a second, before guiltily looking down at his shoes, "Sorry..." He mutters, "I uh.. didn't mean to freak you out."

"Well mission failed, Percy." You say, before taking a deep breath and sitting next to him on your couch, "I just... dammit- your really important to me, okay? If something happened to you-" You cut off your own sentence, crossing your arms.

"You scared the shit outta me.." You whisper, wiping away the building tears with the sleeve of your sweater.

Percy sits silently for a second, then he wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you closer so your pressed flush against his chest.

"I'm sorry." He whispers, his head tucked away in your shoulder, "I'll... be more careful.. just please don't cry..."

You sniffle, wrapping your arms tightly around him, careful not to irritate any bruises that still remain after the ambrosia. You press your face into his hair, the few tears that escape your eyes getting caught in his black curls.

The two of you sit there like that for gods know how long, just seeking the familiar comfort of each others touch...

....................................

This one took me a minute, but I think it turned out well. Lyn Lapid is the best writing partner ever, her music helps me focus SO MUCH-

[luv-loo]

Christmas with Neville Longbottom

Masterpost || Harry Potter Masterlist

Neville Longbottom x GN!Reader

Headcanon/Drabble: The first time with your new boyfriend during the festive season

Warnings: These drabbles/headcanons are directed towards a teen audience, as this takes place during Hogwarts schooling. You can read it as a backstory as sorts, but keep in mind the reader and Neville are minors. Neville’s parents and backstory is part of this headcanon, so be weary when reading.

Notes/Anything Else: Neville’s my favourite and a major comfort of mine. With Christmas coming I was thinking about this little thing hehe, hope you enjoy ! I haven’t done a format like this before… is it a drabble ? Idk…

Christmas times always been a iffy topic to Neville.

You noticed it when the Christmas holidays were coming closer, whenever someone would ask what each other plans were during the time. The teen would slug down a bit in his spot and have a dejected face for the conversation. You didn’t pry… to much.

When you two started dating your 5th year, you really took notice of it.

You found him in the common room, looking on the brink of tears, curled next to the fire place.

It broke your heart. “Why is my love so sad?”

You sat on the floor in front of the chair he was curled in. You asked what was wrong.

The common room was empty as everyone was packing to leave for the holiday, but you still whispered.

Neville didn’t say anything for a solid 10 minutes. All that was heard was the crackle and pops of the fire place.

“… my nan likes to have Christmas with my mum and dad.”

You turned to face him, his chubby cheeks had tears slowly rolling down. Your heart was breaking even more.

Neville didn’t live with his parents, you knew that, but he never talked about what had happened with them or even if they were alive.

“Nan says they’ll know who I am when I’m there.” Sniffles were coming in clumps now.

You sat up immediately and placed yourself on the arm rest next to him, taking hold of his hand and squeezing tight, a gesture you know will calm him down. “What do you mean by that? Love, you can tell me anything.”

Sobbing was echoed through out the room, you squeeze his hand impossibly harder. He explains St Margo’s, and how they’ve lost themselves. (You could tell he was holding back, but you wouldn’t dare push him any further, with all he’s said already)

A great pain of sadness deep in your chest gathered. By that point forward, you made sure your boyfriends Christmas were special.

You brought your own Christmas decor from home and set them up in the green house (with permission). A small Christmas tree with red & gold ornaments, with present, sweets and all Neville favourite plants surrounding it.

The first time your brought him to your little set up, you bouncing on the heels of your feet while you told him he can open his eyes now.

First, shock, then disbelief and lastly utter gratefulness crossed his face when tears started coming down.

You embraced him in the tightest hug, wiped his tears away and kissed his cheek.

Carefully taking him by the hand, you lead him to a little picnic blanket laid out with sweets of all sorts that you brought last time in Hogsmeade.

“I don’t deserve you at all.” He whispered, wiping his, now, puffy red eyes. You stop, turned to him, and cuffed his cheeks.

“Don’t tell me you don’t deserve anything, especially me, because that means you deserve everything.”

[that-foul-legacy-lover]

A Moth To A Flame

Synopsis: The Abyss takes and takes, leaving Tartaglia alone and hurting until you appear to ward off his suffering.

Foul Legacy Childe x Reader Pronouns: Gender Neutral (no pronouns mentioned) Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Fluffy ending Warnings: Mentions of blood, pain, body horror, allusions to gore, crying, mentions of suffocating and drowning

Requested by @crystalheartzzz and anon: “Hiii, this is my first request so idk howq to do it??😭 so ig I'll go straight to the point?😧May I request for childe with a s/o who has an abbysal form too but its more like a butterfly??? And reader didn't fell to the abbys they just stumble upon a book that explained how to summon a abbysal creature when they was a child??? Or something like thst idk you can just ignore me if this is dumb💀” “Ok imagine Foul legacy with a monster! reader. They didn’t fall into the abyss but they had a curse put on them and were locked away for years and their form has torn butterfly wings and overall some sort of butterfly concept(like how FL’s concept takes more after a moth) FL finds reader in a cave and panics because theres someone right in front of him that has a similar form to him. I wonder how he’d react”

~ * ~ Abyssal monsters attract one another. To them, the taint of dark, starry magic is almost tangible, urging and whispering to return to the watery depths. It worms into their hearts, settling and rotting into wishes of battle and bloodshed, only quelled by the sharp tang of iron in the air, eating away at their sense of self until all that remains is a hollow husk hungry for something, anything to fill the emptiness. That is how Tartaglia lives, with blood on his hands and a cheerful smile on his face, as the corruption tears away bits of his mind every day. His subordinates praise him, behind his back, as the most amiable Harbinger to work under, other than perhaps Pulcinella, but they’re blessed to have never seen him in the midst of a fight- with a twisted grin and blades almost dancing in his hands, it’s little wonder Tartaglia’s name has become known and feared on the battlefield. It does little to satiate the constant thrum of the Abyss in the back of his head, however, and little by little his breezy confidence and upbeat demeanor become more and more forced, cracking whenever those horrible voices hiss their dreaded desires. Perhaps it was fate, then, that he met you on the same day he nearly succumbed to the raging, stellar waves. You had crept into the bank, quiet as can be, standing stiffly beside the door and observing the elegant room. It was your first time making a deposit- terrible timing, as your nerves were thoroughly frazzled by how many warnings you received from passersby about the Fatui agents and their Harbinger, the worst of all- and your hands had been shaking as you forced yourself to put one foot in front of the other and approach the front desk. The receptionist greeted you politely, but didn’t manage to get through a few words before being interrupted by a boisterous laugh, a young man with ginger hair striding through the door and up to the desk. With a flourish he drops a bag of mora onto the counter, coins clinking against wood and fabric as you hastily step aside. The man makes rapid smalltalk with the receptionist, who simply picks up the bag and transfers it to the back, apparently used to his behavior, and the man takes a moment to sweep his gaze over the bank with a satisfied smirk. Your eyes meet lightless ocean blue, and his confident grin fades into surprise and intrigue. Tartaglia stares at you, entranced, head tilted ever-so-slightly as the tendrils strangling his heart begin to loosen, Abyssal darkness shrieking and retreating back into the far recesses of his mind. The Harbinger staggers when he inhales, the air filling his lungs making his head spin as he’s finally able to breathe again. But Ekaterina returns to her position and beckons you forward, and as you move away Tartaglia’s chest clouds with sickening stars, world dulling until it’s faded and washed out and Tartaglia feels like he’s suffocating from an ocean’s weight. You bow to Ekaterina and the Harbinger beside you slouches in a chair, body trembling in an effort to stay sitting upright. The clack of footsteps on tile makes their way over to him, slowly, and the Young Lord glances up and meets your bright, now-curious eyes for the second time today. Tartaglia’s deadened heart beats, once, then speeds up as you stick out a hand and give him a hesitant smile. “Hello.” Tartaglia’s shaking hand slips into yours, and the Abyss fades away once more. The next weeks are filled with bliss as he seeks you out again and again; a Harbor newcomer and the Eleventh Fatui Harbinger are quite the sight to see in the evening. He learns and learns and learns- your name, your job, your favorite food, your favorite color, your homeland- everything coming together into a beautiful, multifaceted existence, and Tartaglia finds himself genuinely laughing and smiling more with every hour you spend together, heart fluttering in his chest at the mere sight of you. Is he falling in love? Perhaps. But he doesn’t stop himself, because to you, he’s Ajax. Maybe it was foolish of him to tell you, a stranger not a few weeks ago, his true name, but when he sees the slow, ecstatic smile spread across your face and the gleam of affection in your eyes, he feels like anything but a fool. In the years since he turned 14, the time since he fell through that crack in the earth, it seemed like he’d forgotten what true warmth was until he met you- and now his heart was set ablaze, a bright spark burning away the thorned roots of Abyssal corruption. He hugs you, a little too tightly, when you call him Ajax, because that’s all he wants to be- just Ajax, without any fancy titles or ranks or responsibilities other than being yours, and when he sees your smile or hears your laugh it almost feels like he never fell into the Abyss in the first place, drawn to your presence and being like a moth to a flame. But the stars, whether in the sky or the sea, despise being ignored. He’s almost forgotten what it feels like- what it’s like to not be able to breathe, to suffocate from sheer pain encapsulating your entire body- until the day he wakes up with a pounding headache and the sound of his own wheezing. Tears spring to Tartaglia’s eyes, his lungs being stabbed and torn apart by night-stained thorns winding around his throat. It hurts to speak, so he can only weep, each inhale sending another wave of pain through his body and ripping another sob from his chest. His skin stings, burns, bright dots dancing in his vision as he helplessly watches his hands darken and crackle, claws piercing the fingertips as they grow. Thick, starry blood drips and stains the covers, and Tartaglia manages to let out a scream of agony before the darkness forces him under and all turns to black. Your walks to the Northland Bank have become routine now, so often do you visit your new love- friend, and the moment you step inside the receptionist- Ekaterina- looks up and nods. But your face falls when you glance around the room and don’t see Ajax, the fluffy head of fluffy ginger hair nowhere in sight. Ekaterina gestures upstairs, waving you away with a tiny smile at the singular flower grasped in your hands, the glaze lily blooming a gorgeous shade of familiar blue. With your cheer restored you jog up the stairs, the spring in your step harmonizing with your idle hums as you stop outside the door marked with an elegantly-carved star- the sigil of the Harbingers, raising your hand to knock. A harrowing shriek pierces your ears and echoes through the hall and you freeze, blood turning to ice from pure terror, the flower slipping from your fingers to the ground. Then without thinking you fling the door open and rush inside, thoughts racing because oh Archons, what happened- it couldn’t be- please, love, don’t be- “Ajax?! Are you okay?!” A monster screeches in his place, pressing itself into a corner and curling into a ball, trying to disappear from view as it covers its face with razor-sharp claws, letting out heart-wrenching wails and sobs. All you can do is step closer, astonishment glittering in your eyes because that’s Ajax, isn’t it? The Abyssal creature awkwardly shoved against the wall is your love, isn’t it? Tartaglia- no, Ajax, the terrified young man from Morepesok- whimpers, the blood from his Foul Legacy transformation splattering from his mouth to the floor. It hurts it hurts it hurts so much- it’s never been this bad before, it’s almost like the Abyss is punishing him for defying it, drowning him, Ajax, in an ocean of stars so only Tartaglia remains. His talons snag on the dips in his mask-like face, an attempt to anchor him to reality as his head fills with eerie singing, everything bursting into fire before his eyes. Claws, gentle and delicate, wrap around his own and pull his hands away from his head, and the Abyss shrieks and recoils when Ajax shakily looks up at an otherworldly creature with eyes the exact same shade as ones he often found himself getting lost in for hours. Yours. Weak peeps and chirps slip from Ajax’s maw, seemingly in shock as you kneel before him and hold his limp hands, carefully tapping your sharp talons over their backs. You let out your own responding trill and brush your knuckles over his cheek, humming in delight when he leans heavily into your touch, crystalline blue eye fluttering shut. Purrs begin to filter from some soft, secret part of him, watching your magnificent form through a slitted eye, fingers trailing idly over your butterfly-like wings. You begin softly preening Ajax’s copper-colored hair, removing any dried blood and tangles until it’s soft as a cloud, and when your claws gently rake across his scalp Ajax croons, melting in your lap and nudging your hands so they’re scratching behind his twin horns. There’s barely even a flinch when you clean his wounds, so overcome with the comfort of you holding him in your arms, not even struggling from his size because you’re just like him- Abyss-touched and trying to survive in a world full of light. Ajax tugs on your claws when you’re finished, lightly at first, then more insistently as the instinct to cuddle and protect and comb your fluff with his talons grows stronger. When you dip your head he pulls you close against his chest, pain forgotten, and snuggles his cheek into your hair with a happy purr, careful to avoid your own horns. You simply slot yourself against him, hands soothingly rubbing the muscles around his cape-like wings, your gentle humming making Ajax yawn wide enough to see all his adorable fangs. Quietly you pluck the fallen glaze lily from the floor and tuck it into Ajax’s hair, and he lets out a flustered rumble, chirps and trills coming out stuttered and sleep-heavy. With a drowsy coo, Ajax gives you a small, affectionate lick on your cheek, and two Abyssal monsters drift into slumber as the sun sets over Liyue, a pocket of warmth against the cold darkness below.

[ricesoupremacy]

okay so i took this one exactly a year ago

then there's... this. i don't know what this is.

i don't know this kid. i was getting bored at a mall while my cousins were busy trying out shoes and i saw this girl and snapped a picture because i'm a creep. sometimes.

i don't know what is it about this picture. i like it a lot.

this is from the regional meteorological department, the weather observatory section.

that building, i really like those types of buildings. there's a similar one i know here as well.

those thingsss i know what they are i don't know what they're called lol

so you're a creep, understood. idk something about that girl is swag.

ok. THAT picture. um. yk that quote, "pictures speak a thousand words"? i always thought "huh that's...not something i agree with. words can always describe more than a photo can." i get what it means now. there is something about that picture. the lighting. the sense of...melancholy? the sort of 'i know this place even though i've never been to it' emptiness? like listening to a beloved song you've forgotten about after years and feeling that pull at your chest? i don't know how else to explain it, but this makes me feel like that, somehow. so. great job capturing that in one shot. i think that's incredible, that a photograph you took could make someone feel so strongly.

the last one 👌clouds yes

[superblysubpar]

FUCKING FUUUUCCCKKKKK

Amanda.

This is so good I'm speechless, and yet I cannot stop talking. WHY ISN'T IT A SHOW. IM SCREAMING AT MY PHONE FOR THE NEXT EPISODE. (lovingly, patiently, I'd wait all of eternity for it)

Like seriously, this is phenomenal. There's like actual addictive stimulants in this fic. Idk how you did that but I feel insane. I wanna devour this for the first time again already. I wanna write till my fingers bleed and I've come up with something a fraction as good.

I feel crazy. I am crazy. You did this!!

Just so I don't spoil things - CAUSE HEY YOU, WHOEVER SEES THIS: READ IT READ IT READ IT

Listen listen LISTEN

I already told you about this photography nonsense and I simply CANNOT.

And just, the train...UGGGGGGGHHHHHHH IM A PUDDLE.

AND THE ELDERLY COUPLE?!

“Amazing,” you sighed, the delight on your face swooping at his stomach. 

This line. Thiiiisssss linnnneeee

“No press, just freelance,” you said from across the metal threshold. You wore a well-loved leather jacket, softened and faded with time and an expression that toed the line between compliance and try me.

Steve swallowed, shook the stars from his eyes, and crossed his arms over his chest. “Sorry, this is a camera-free zone.”

Shook the stars from his eyes from our tough little act I will SMOOCH him

He kept your SD card. He didn’t even tell Robin that it rested on the corner of his dresser next to a picture of Dustin on his graduation day. 

“Okay, okay,” her connection stuttered in and out, face pixelated as she ducked out of frame and back. “So you’re going to be alone forever. That’s not so bad.” 

“At least I have you.” Steve nodded, mouth full of squishy sweet banana. 

ALL OF THE ROBIN AND STOBIN I LOVE HER AND THEMMMMMM

He’d never been to your house, and when he walked over the threshold, he was overpowered by how you it felt. The whole place smelled of you, of your shampoo and the perfume you spritz on special nights. Your little kitchen table was scattered with stacks of old mail and rolls of film. A laptop sat open on a squishy futon sofa. Beneath your television were a handful of films he knew you loved. 

Okay, like, listen, idk how you did it but it's like Steve's seeing the apartment for the first time and explaining it to us for the first time but like I feel like I know it already? Like I do in fact live there because I am reader? Like this passage just made me feel like it is in fact mine? And what sort of witchcraft is that?

Steve: What do we think of Front Desk Becky

Robin: You leave that sweet girl out of this. 

The emotional whiplash I felt from this moment to him catching us in the apartment all wrapped around EDDIE when STEVE IS RIGHT THERE

I can't with you

✋️✋️✋️✋️✋️

Eddie’s bedroom door was open, satin sheets crumpled and pillows stacked to accommodate one. Upon quick glance, the ceiling mirror reveled the room to be empty. 

Booooo you whore Eddie!! A mirror!! But also hey cutie smartie big bodyguard Steve using his skills to use that slutty mirror to clear rooms, I see you babe 💛

He cleared his throat and looked down at your hand in his. He brushed the back of it again with his thumb. His throat was tight, voice raw. “I just want to keep you safe.”

When I tell you, the breath I was holding during this whole lips zipped Steve moment...SO FUCKING CUTE YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND. And the tension of this little bubble of touching each other but not...FUCK. I could hear him, his voice cracking saying this.

“No pickles?” You frowned, peeking into the mostly empty paper sack.

Same, girl.

But also!!! The fear!! I had!! While Steve!! Was across the street!! And the little moments like reaching into the jacket!! I felt his fear!!

Halfway down the hallway, you answered your phone, sweet nothings murmured for someone else.

Hell Hound • Part One

Being FWBs with metal rockstar, Eddie Munson, is all fun and games until a dozen red roses show up at your door with a warning: Stay Away from The Devil or you will die. Despite your protests, Eddie appoints his personal bodyguard to keep an eye out for you.

Pairing: bodyguard!Steve Harrington x photographer!Reader, rockstar!Eddie x Reader

Wordcount: 10, 712

Warnings: unrequited love, slowburn, jealousy, angst, hurt/comfort, violence, gore, weapons, fighting, death threats, stalker *This chapter also contains allusions of voyeurism, sex, drinking, recreational drug use, religious elements

This blog is 18+ only. I do not give permission for any of my fics to be duplicated, reposted, or put into AI. Thank you!

Navigation • Masterlist

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Moodboard • Fic Masterlist • Part Two [Coming soon]

The interior of the L never looked that beautiful, at least not through Steve’s eyes. Every experience he’d had was tainted by Bears fans or teenagers filming videos on their phone, or God, don’t remind him about St. Patty’s Day. No, the seats were too small for his shoulders, the windows too short, and the whole thing smelled like plastic bags.

Your perspective was vastly different. You were just the right height to catch the sunlight as it filled the train car with that golden glow. The city whirred by, a kaleidoscope of bright lights and reflections off the glass. You positioned poles and handholds just so with satisfying symmetry.

No, the city had never looked as beautiful to him as it had through your lens. 

Steve said that to Robin once, and she wretched over the line and made him promise he’d never repeat it to you. He hadn’t, but he’d also never let one of your photos go un-complimented.

He enjoyed the roll of your eyes, the sink of your teeth into your bottom lip as you soaked in the praise and pretended to be shy, to be embarrassed, that you hated your craft. 

He’d seen that look dozens of times tonight, timid gratitude that poured out of you and onto every surface in this little gallery space. You’d caught his gaze a handful of times, reassured him with a smile that you were okay, great even, oozing with sheepish pride. He’d just nod and go back to admiring another of your photos.

“You know, we used to live in that apartment…” An elderly woman told you, bony hand clung to your forearm. 

“Really? Which one?” You humored her.

“That one, just there, our first year of marriage,” the woman nodded. “Fifth floor.” 

“Fourth floor!” Her husband corrected from your other side.

“It was the fifth floor, now don’t argue with me.” 

“Yes, ma’am,” the man winked at you, and your eyes lit with mischievous delight. You nodded along, conspiratorially while the woman rambled on about the neighbors’ cat meowing and another neighbor practicing saxophone into the wee hours. 

“It was so romantic,” she clutched your hand to her chest.

“It was so annoying,” the husband grinned back at you.

Fed up with her husband’s antics, the woman shot him a rueful look. Then, she patted your hand and told you how lovely your work was before asking for the powder room. 

When she’d been properly directed, her husband leaned to your ear and asked how much for the photo. 

Steve lingered nearby, waiting for the transactional handshake before he stepped in. “Mind if I inquire about this piece?” 

You sucked your cheeks between your teeth and sidled up beside him. His bicep tingled where your skin brushed. “What questions do you have about this one?” 

“Where was it taken?”

You shot him a look, and he tried not to let the smile split his face. The photo you were currently staring at was a portrait of a mom and daughter looking at their reflection in The Bean.

“How’s it going?” He elbowed you, glancing once more around the room at the patrons to your first gallery showing. He’d agreed to come run point for your opening, soft-pitching the idea for Munson to hit out of the park.

“Amazing,” you sighed, the delight on your face swooping at his stomach. 

“Told you.” He grinned, and you swatted his arm and told him to shut up. He really could watch you for hours, the micro-expressions on your face prettier than any photo you could take, though your talent came up a close second. 

“I thought he couldn’t make it,” you gasped, staring just past Steve’s shoulder and out the gallery’s front window.

Steve blinked once, twice. The rapid flash of headlights cast your cheekbones in shadow. He spun on his heel to find his employer and friend, Eddie Munson, slipping out of the backseat of a tinted-windowed SUV. He cursed under his breath and excused himself, shouldering through a confused crowd to meet the rockstar at the door. 

“Harrington,” Eddie pushed his sunglasses through his curls, pupils blown, and flashed a wolfish grin.

“Thought you couldn’t make it.” Steve responded, glancing down alleyways for any paparazzi. He knew once Eddie was spotted in public, they’d come in droves. 

“And miss this? Nah, wouldn’t dream of it, Sugar.” 

You’d followed Steve out into the rain, slipping through party guests to greet Eddie. The rockstar wrapped studded-leather arms around your slender waist and greeted you with something salacious whispered into your ear. Steve knew because of the shocked look stretched over beautiful features, and the way you’d swatted at Eddie’s shoulder as if he’d said something bad enough to curl your toes. 

“We should get inside,” Steve grit his teeth. “Don’t want to alert the paps.” 

“Come on, Sugar,” Eddie dipped into a low bow to let you enter first. “Give me the grand tour.” 

—

“I think I’ll buy all the ones left,” Munson quipped with a lazy arm tugging you back into his chest. 

You snorted, and shook your head. “Then no one else will be able to buy them, which is kind of the point of a gallery.” You gestured around at the carefully placed frames on carefully designed walls. 

“Well, good. Maybe I want you all to myself.” 

Steve’s eyes ached to roll. He collected plastic flutes and discarded trays of half-eaten vegetables and tossed them into large, black garbage sacks. 

“Are you coming over tonight?” 

“I just had my gallery opening,” you barked a laugh, pulling away to help Steve with the table you were leaning on. “I need to sleep.”

“You need to celebrate,” Eddie rationed, tugging you back into him. You yelped, your thumb going into a rogue slice of cake. With waggled brows, Eddie pulled your thumb into his mouth, licking it clean.

Steve thought he might be sick. He turned his back and held open the bag in front of him, just in case. Unfortunately, he could still make out your reflection in the windows out front. Your meticulously picked-out slacks hugged your curves, and Munson’s ringed fingers slipped over the breadth of your backside to squeeze you closer to him. 

“Anything else you need help with?” Steve’s voice tasted awkward, a little too loud, too scratchy. 

You separated from Eddie and dumped your haul into Steve’s bag. “I think that’s it. Thank you for everything, Steve. Really. And I’m serious about paying you.” 

“Yeah, that’s not happening.” He said, twisting the bag closed with a knot. 

You shot him another look and said, “Eddie, tell Steve to let me pay him.” 

“You don’t take money from her, you don’t take money from me, pal.” 

Steve did roll his eyes this time, and glared over your shoulder at the rockstar zipping and unzipping his leather jacket. “Yeah, we have a contract, dumb ass.” 

“I’ll have my lawyer sue your lawyer.” 

“Your lawyer is my lawyer.” 

Eddie grinned. “He’s got me there, Sug.” 

You scoffed and snatched the bag from Steve’s hand. “Fine, I’ll have to come up with some other way to repay you.” 

Steve was thankful for mood lighting and the late hour. His face heated another twenty or so degrees, and he scratched at the hairs prickling on the back of his neck. “Eds, you need me to call you a car?” 

“Would you mind, Stevie-dearest? Sugar, I gotta take a piss. Care to show me the can in this place?” Eddie stood up and adjusted the crotch of his tight jeans for show. 

“You’re a class act, Eddie Munson. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.” You gripped the hefty garbage bag in one hand and took Eddie’s hand in your other as you led him back into the office space of the warehouse. Before the heavy door closed, both of you made eyes at Steve, one friendly, the other randy.

Steve’s stomach churned, and he pulled out his phone to call a car. 

Working with Eddie had been tedious, but simple. Call him a car, shield him from paparazzi and groping fans alike, bring him his hangover cure breakfast, ask beautiful women to sign a Non-Disclosure Agreement before his plethora of one-night stands. 

You were the toughest pill to swallow, a beautiful girl at a hometown gig. 

Hometown gigs meant rowdy afterparties, venue-catered alcohol and executive-catered drugs. It meant too-lax security checkpoints and easily-bribed security detail, and after months on the road, Steve wasn’t in the mood for anyone’s bullshit. So he posted himself at the Green Room door, one eye on the metal detector, one eye on the front man who’d hired him, and prayed the ache between his shoulders would go away soon. Eight more hours and he’d be at home in bed for a long awaited and much needed vacation.

Eddie was two water bottles in, and his hand still trembled when he introduced himself to some recording mogul.

Steve snapped his fingers at some kid and told him quickly to hand Munson another bottle of water and get him a towel. 

When the items had been delivered to a thankful rockstar, Steve turned back to the collection of items being tossed into plastic trays on the outside of the metal detector: a cell phone, keys with a neon carabiner, a leather wallet, a DSLR.

“Whoa, whoa,” he stopped the attendant from picking up the camera. “There’s no press on the guest list.” 

“No press, just freelance,” you said from across the metal threshold. You wore a well-loved leather jacket, softened and faded with time and an expression that toed the line between compliance and try me.

Steve swallowed, shook the stars from his eyes, and crossed his arms over his chest. “Sorry, this is a camera-free zone.”

You narrowed your eyes for a moment before stepping back over the threshold and against the current of waiting party-goers to fiddle with the camera.

“Here,” you cupped something in an outstretched hand, waiting patiently for Steve to accept whatever gift you had to offer.

With caution, he accepted the tiniest of SD cards, bright blue.

“Call it insurance?” You smiled, tongue behind your canine in a way that made him itch under the collar. “Find me before I leave and give it back?”

Munson had found you first, dragging Steve with clammy hands to meet his “dream girl”. He gave the signal for Steve to start pulling up the contract on his phone as he made his way down a long, concrete hallway.

You hadn’t flinched, just cocked a brow and signed your name on the dotted line with a, “Thanks, Steve. Have a great night.”

He kept your SD card. He didn’t even tell Robin that it rested on the corner of his dresser next to a picture of Dustin on his graduation day. 

He assumed he’d never see you again, but Munson had grown a fondness for you, and soon you were a regular part of Chicago meet-ups. Every hometown gig became a room full of you. 

Steve heard giggling from the office, that soft melodic bounce of your laugh against the bass of Eddie’s voice. This was the worst of it, catching you two in compromising positions around parties or Eddie’s ornate penthouse, and pretending like it didn’t kill him inside that it wasn’t him with his hands on you, making you laugh, smelling the warmth of your throat.

His phone buzzed in his hand. 

Robin: How was the gallery opening? Did you tell her you’re in love with her yet? We on for our FaceTime date tonight?

Steve: Eddie showed up. Yup. See you in 10 hours.

Robin: Shit. I just sent you money. Buy yourself a fifth and we’ll drink it together.

A car rolled up outside, blinding him with strong headlights.

“Munson, car’s here!” He called, praying you could both hear him.

There was the shuffle of a few things in the back, and with the clack of Eddie’s boots, you both returned. You looked a little more windswept than before, and Eddie’s sunglasses has been pulled back over his eyes, despite it being nearly midnight. 

“Steve,” you breathed, approaching him with arms outstretched for a friendly embrace. “Thanks again for all of your help tonight. You have no idea how much it means to me.” 

He gave the tightest squeeze he could under supervision and let your hand fall into his to give you one more gentle squeeze. “Anytime. It was really no problem. Do you need a ride home?” 

You shook your head, smile wedged between your teeth. “I guess Eddie wore me down.” 

“Yeah I will.” He snorted, and you shushed him. 

Steve nodded and started for the door. “Cool. Well, have fun, you two. Be safe.” 

“Thanks, man,” Eddie knocked knuckles with his friend, rings sharp against Steve’s scarred fists. “I’ll call tomorrow.” 

Steve swallowed and glanced over his shoulder to bid you one last, weak smile. 

You waggled you fingers, and he stepped out into the cool night air. 

—

“You are the most embarrassing person I know in real life.” Even Robin in lag was brutal. 

Steve sipped his coffee and rubbed at tired eyes. He hadn’t slept much. Mostly, he scrolled and wondered exactly what you and Eddie were getting up to, wondered why it wasn’t him. 

“You asked if she needed a ride home?” 

“I was being polite,” he grumbled. He took a banana off its tree and began to peel. They had all begun to brown. 

“You’re so sweet, Stevie. Like a little lost puppy dog.” 

“Oh fuck off, Robin. Remember you and that girl in Buchapest?” 

“Bucharest,” she corrected his pronunciation. “And she was merely a fleeting crush.” 

“You cried over her for like three weeks.” He shot his best friend a look over the screen. 

The lighting was horrible in her Istanbul flat, internet connection worse. Steve told her he’d pay for anything better, but she argued that he needed to quit babying her and let her live the nomadic experienced she’d always dreamed of. 

“Okay, okay,” her connection stuttered in and out, face pixelated as she ducked out of frame and back. “So you’re going to be alone forever. That’s not so bad.” 

“At least I have you.” Steve nodded, mouth full of squishy sweet banana. 

He nearly choked when his phone began to ring in his hand, your name and photo popping up on the display screen. “Robin, it’s her.” 

“What?” 

“She’s calling me.” He held his phone to the camera on his laptop to prove a point. 

“Speaker phone!” Robin squeaked. 

With a sigh, he answered, phone pressed to his ear to respect your privacy. Robin glared. 

“Hello?”

“Steve?” The worry in your voice had his heart kicking up in his throat. 

“What’s wrong?” 

Robin echoed his sentiments until he snapped his fingers and put his finger to his lips to quiet her.

“Nothing, it’s um… could you… are you busy?” 

“Nope. Not busy at all,” he said. Robin threw a silent fit on her end. “What’s going on?”

“Could you just… come down to the gallery? I need your help with something.”

“Yeah,” he frowned, walked the rest of his banana to the garbage can. “Like, later today?”

“Or right now. Could you come right now? As soon as possible?”

His stomach dropped to his feet. “Yes. Yes, I will be right there. Keep the door locked until I get there.”

“Okay. Thank you.” 

He hung up and rushed to the door to get his shoes on. His keys and wallet were in his pocket before he heard another voice echo throughout his kitchen. 

“Harrington!? Hello!? Earth to Dingus!”

“Shit,” he sidled up to his laptop. “Robin, I am so sorry.” 

She managed a knowing smirk and a laggy nod. “Yeah, you owe me, big time Harrington. Text me everything that happens.”

“I love you,” he agreed. 

“See you next week!” 

“In real life!” He hung up before she had a chance to blabber on, and he was out the door.

—

The worry etched across your beautiful features was devastating. 

Steve yearned to wrap you into his arms and promise he’d protect you, to kiss the frown lines from between your brows, to tickle at your ribs until you smiled again. 

Instead, he stood three feet away, inspecting a bouquet of three dozen red roses that had been delivered to the gallery that morning with a note attached.

Roses are Red

Beauty is You

Stay away from the Devil

Before he kills you

A printed photograph was pinned to the card, a pap photo from a gala you and Eddie had attended together a few weeks ago. Eddie’s shoulders were squeezed into a rhinestoned blazer, flash reflecting off his sunglasses. Devil horns and a tale had been crudely drawn over his features in red ball point pen. You stood beside him, hand-in-hand, curves standing out in a black silk dress. One small strap was dangling off your shoulder. The same pen was used to etch slash marks through your exposed throat, so hard it had ripped through the page.

“Is this… like Eddie wouldn’t do this, right?” Your voice shook, hand trembling against your cheekbone. You balled a tissue into your fist.

“No! God no,” Steve ran a hand through his hair. “I mean, Jesus, I hope not.” He muttered under his breath. “Have you called him?”

You shrugged, nodded. “I tried, and texted. He was still asleep when I left.”

Steve cleared his throat with a nod, remembering you’d gone home with the rockstar. You probably slipped out of black silk sheets and into the black and grey marbled shower. You probably toed around in front of the massive high-rise window, searching for various garments that had been removed on every inch of the house. Maybe you’d made yourself a latte, with a splash of lavender like you like it, wearing an oversized black hoodie that smelled of weed and cigarettes and some cologne Steve couldn’t afford.

“I can try again,” you fished your phone from your back pocket and dialed.

Steve plucked the card from the roses for any indication of a delivery service or floral company, but the card was blank, ivory, high-quality. “Who delivered these?”

“Old guy, balding, green vest,” you shrugged. 

Steve nodded.

“Hey, Sugar,” Eddie’s voice rasped over speaker. “S’matter. Did you leave something here, or d’you just miss me?”

“No, um…” You changed your balance from one foot to the other. “Eds, did you send me roses?”

“Fuck, you want me to eat you out and send you roses?” The rockstar chuckled.

Steve swallowed and didn’t dare look at you directly. He felt the heat radiating off of you as you frantically turned off speaker-phone and held the device to your ear, covering your face with a hand.

“No, babe, Jesus. I got a delivery of roses today with a um…” Your voice trembled again.

Steve brushed delicate fingers to your arm and held out his hand to take the phone.

You gave it willingly.

“Eddie, hey,” Steve sighed. 

“Harrington? What is going on? Am I still asleep?”

“No, dude, she called me when she couldn’t get ahold of you. Listen, there’s this big bouquet of roses here with a death threat attached. You didn’t have anything to do with this, right? It’s not some kind of prank?”

“A death threat? What do you mean? A prank? Jesus, how shitty of a person do you think I am? Is she okay? I’m coming down there.”

Steve winced around the shuffle of bedsheets and the sound of Eddie clomping around his bedroom.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, dude. Here, let me send you a picture.”

Steve took his own phone out to take and send a photo, rifling past a barrage of text messages from Robin. 

You’d propped yourself on the reception desk, eyes darting between the flowers and outside. The morning light poured in, hollowing your cheekbones and painting your walls pink. 

Steve reached for your elbow, running his thumb over the bit of skin there to pull your focus back.

You offered a sheepish smile and squeezed his wrist.

“Oh what the fuck?” Eddie yelled through the phone, startling you both. 

“Yeah, it’s bad,” Steve agreed, rubbing at tired eyes.

“Is she okay? Let me talk to her. Wait, Harrington, do you think it’s Carver?”

Steve’s blood ran cold. 

Jason Carver was a religious zealot from a small town with a vendetta for Eddie Munson and “demons like him”. Two years ago, his army of his cronies marched to a Corroded Coffin show in Milwaukee and set the place on fire. They managed to get everyone out of the bar before the roof collapsed. More Molotovs were thrown before the cops arrived.

Since Carver wasn’t in attendance and denied any involvement in inciting the riot, he received a slap on the wrist and no jail time. The band did manage an airtight restraining order, but Steve doubted that looped in contact with Munson’s hook-ups.

He cursed under his breath.

“Yeah, fuck is right. Let me talk to her. Don’t let her leave your sight. I’ll pay you triple if I have to. Twenty-four hour surveillance. You hear me?”

“Don’t worry about the cash, man,” Steve shook his head. “I won’t leave her. I’m going to call the delivery company and see if they can give me any more information on the purchase, and then I’ll call Joyce and see if she can’t get her written into the restraining order.” 

“Thank you, man. I want you to take her home to get her stuff and then bring her over here. If it is him, he can’t get to her here.”

Steve hated that he was right.

“Put her on for me. Thanks again, bro.”

With a resigned sigh, Steve slipped the phone back into your trembling hands.

He overheard Eddie’s tone slip into something softer, “Sugar, how’re you doing? Are you alright? I’m so so sorry this happened to you, my sweet girl.”

You gave Steve’s hand one more squeeze before you wandered off across the gallery for some privacy in your phone call. 

Steve opened his browser to began searching for the delivery company’s number with a pit in his stomach and an unfillable ache in his chest.

—

Robin: OMFG that’s so scary. Is she ok? Are you ok? Is Eddie ok? I’m going to be there in a week, plz don’t get murdered.

—

Your keys clicked in the lock, and you toed open the door to your little apartment. Light poured in through large windows, casting warmth on the small space that the dark hallway hid. You stepped in first, and Steve followed with trepidation. 

He’d never been to your house, and when he walked over the threshold, he was overpowered by how you it felt. The whole place smelled of you, of your shampoo and the perfume you spritz on special nights. Your little kitchen table was scattered with stacks of old mail and rolls of film. A laptop sat open on a squishy futon sofa. Beneath your television were a handful of films he knew you loved. 

“How long um… how much should I pack?” You squinted, pinching at the bridge of your nose. “I’m sorry,” you sighed. “This is a lot, and I don’t know how to handle it.” 

Once again, he felt the ache to pull you into him, to whisper sweet words into your hair. Instead he gestured to a bar stool. “Take a seat. Take a breath. I’m going to check the house, if that’s alright.” 

He winced as your face flooded with realization, and fear. 

“It’s probably fine. I just want to be safe.” He tried to sound nonchalant, shoving his hands into his pockets.

You swallowed, nodded, gestured for him to go ahead. “Sorry it’s a mess.” 

He waved you off with a knowing smile and started down the hallway, relieved when he turned to see you sitting as instructed. You’d been on your feet all day, making arrangements with the gallery owners to have someone take your shift for the evening and tomorrow. When you weren’t on the phone or emailing buyers, you were staring out the windows, a far-off gaze in your eye. You held that now, looking down your living room windows at the busy downtown street below.

Steve took the first door to the left and found a small bathroom. Some tiles in the corner were cracked, and the sink was scattered with the remnants of a makeup bag, a toothbrush. The bathtub’s curtain was pulled back to reveal a loofah dangling from the faucet. 

Your bedroom waited at the end of the hall. His fingertips pushed the door open, breath shallow, face warm.

Sage green linens were crumpled on your bed with three overstuffed pillows. Dirty clothes littered your floor in piles leading to and from the closet. That black satin dress topped an armchair, the strap snapped.

Steve swallowed.

A hefty dresser sat to the right of the door, the top scattered with trinkets and photographs. He was surprised to find his own image scowling back at him, arms crossed, black t-shirt on, leaning against a concrete wall. The sun hit him just so, framing his eyes like a superhero mask, the rest of him cast in shadow. God, all of the world really was better through your lens.

“All clear?” Your soft voice startled him.

He cleared his throat, cheeks warm, to find you at the doorway, hugging your arms to yourself. He smiled. “Clear. I’ll just wait in the front room.” He gestured to slip past you.

“Actually, do you mind hanging out? It’ll only take a second.” You gestured for him to sit on the bed before you scampered about your room, picking up the dirty clothes and depositing them into the hamper.

He remained standing in the doorway, arms crossed like they were in the photo. “Get enough for a couple of days if you want, but we’re going to get this figured out.”

You wore your anxiety like a jacket, hunched shoulders and furrowed brow, a shell of the vibrant woman he knew. 

He took a few steps forward, halting your frantic shoving of clothes in a backpack.

You blinked back up at him, eyes wide, hands trembling.

“I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

You laughed then, a manically sound that didn’t meet your eyes. “Steve, am I just insane? Or stupid? Am I the dumbest person in the entire world?” 

“What?” He tried not to focus on the way your hair haloed around your face, light pouring in through gossamer curtains.

“I knew the novelty of sleeping with a rockstar would wear off eventually, but I was thinking like he’d cheat on me with a super model or maybe I’d get a curable STD, but not this.” It was the most you’d spoken all day, your old self sinking back into your voice.

Steve smiled, itched at the back of his neck, shrugged. “Eddie’s a very charming man.” 

You rolled your eyes. “I mean, okay, Eddie’s good, but he’s not death-threats good.”

Steve felt a little surge of excitement at this knowledge, maybe a bit of competition sparking in him again. “Sure, but he’s a good guy. He really likes you.”

“I think he calls me ‘Sugar’ because he forgot my real name and got too embarrassed to ask.” 

Your confession had Steve’s jaw on the floor, and when you laughed, he felt light as air. This time your laugh met your eyes, met your mouth, your cheeks. You swatted at his chest.

“Steve, you were supposed to tell me that’s not true.” 

Steve snickered and merely shrugged.

“Ugh, I’m so stupid.” You pushed past him and to the bathroom to start collecting your toiletries. The anxiety was temporarily snuffed and replaced with the ease of routine, of being in your space surrounded by your things, and Steve felt himself relax a bit knowing you were comfortable.

—

Joyce: Got it taken care of, sweetheart. Hop says he’ll file a report and to let him know if you need an extra hand. Dinner next weekend? Steak and potatoes? Take care of yourself.

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—

Munson pulled his ragged hair up into a bun with a hair tie he kept around his wrist. Steve often wondered if it was yours, or if the rockstar pulled it from the locks of some groupie on the road, long nights spent in truck stops and blues houses. The tie had lost some elasticity over the years, and tendrils managed to fall into the man’s eyes, and even still, he looked cool, casual, calm.

He was anything but calm. His knee bounced as he took a glass of water from Steve filled for him. “What did I do wrong, man?” 

Steve sighed and sat across from him, back to massive windows overlooking the city lights. He kept his mouth shut, not wanting to be caught in the middle of this tiff you were having. 

“I mean, I just want to keep her safe. I’m the one that got her in this mess in the first place.” Eddie extended an inked arm toward his bedroom door. You’d been in there for over an hour now, having excused yourself to bed for the night. 

You’d made a point that you were going to bed alone.

“Should I not have told her how I feel?”

Steve pinched at this bridge of his nose, eyes tired and struggling to focus in a room of black velour upholstery and gold trim. 

The spat started when Eddie informed you he’d booked your ticket to join him in England for the next few months while Corroded Coffin records their next album. It ended when Eddie, on bended knees, hands gripping your ribcage, told you he loved you.

Steve watched the entire exchange awkwardly from the kitchen, trying to blend in with white marble countertops.

Apparently, today was a day for firsts. He’d never seen you as nervous as he had in the gallery that morning, and he’d never seen you as angry. You were the silent type, but he felt the rage radiating off of your frame, the clench of your jaw, the subtle brush of Eddie’s hands from your waist.

He caught your gaze when you exited the room, and your demeanor shifted to apologetic, embarrassed maybe. He managed a tight-lipped smile and a wave. 

“Harrington,” Eddie snapped his fingers. “Come on, you’re good with women, right? Help me out.” 

Steve snorted. He’d been good with women, sure, but not since you waltzed into his life with your SD card and that smirk.

“How do we make up?” Munson’s shoulders were hunched, face fraught with worry.

With another drawn out sigh, Steve shrugged. “Give her space, man. She had a really scary day. You remember your first death threat, right? She needs time to process and not for you to demand she be shipped off to another country for two months.” 

Eddie nodded, too much, too exuberantly. “Okay, okay. You’re right. That makes sense. I just…” He lowered his voice. “I just don’t want to lose her.” 

That emotion, Steve understood. It was a fear that prickled at the base of his neck anytime Eddie winked at another girl in the front row, anytime he had his arms looped over two women backstage, anytime his phone sat on the coffee table between them with Sugar blowing up the notifications, neglected. Didn’t Eddie know what he had in you?

“We won’t.” He shook his head. 

Eddie nodded. “You’re a good man, Steve Harrington. I’m sure going to miss you.” 

Steve frowned at that, arms crossed over his chest. “Miss me? The hell are you talking about?” 

“When I’m in England,” Eddie explained, reaching forward for the tin lunch box he kept tucked under the coffee table. The lid hid the glass with a clang, and he reached in for rolling papers, a lighter, and a ziplock bag full of weed.

“Are you firing me?” Steve wasn’t following.

Munson snorted, rolled a neat joint, licked it closed. “Harrington, it’s a good thing you’re pretty.” 

Steve warmed, as he often did when someone complimented him, and frowned. “Cut the crap. What’re you talking about?”

“You’re going to stay here, with her.” He nodded your direction and lit up, flame glowing in big, brown eyes while he took a drag. He held onto it for a minute, shoulders going slack, knee stopping its bounce. He tilted his head against the back of the couch and released a large billow of smoke skyward, casting the room in a sickly sweet haze.

“She’s right, man,” he continued. “It’s not fair of me to take her from her gallery. She worked too hard for this.”

He sat up, offered the joint to his friend. Steve declined, head already starting to spin.

Eddie shrugged and took another hit. “I need you to protect her.” 

Steve nodded. That was the easiest thing his friend had ever asked him to do.

“While I’m away, think you could do me another favor?

More smoke billowed from the man’s pink lips, that familiar Munson charm tugging at the corners of his mouth until his teeth were bared in that irresistible grin he was so famous for. He leaned forward then, gesturing for Steve to meet him at the center of the coffee table.

Steve leaned forward, and then a little more when the gesturing didn’t stop, rolling his eyes. “What now?”

Eddie’s smile fell to something far more serious, concern etched in his features, Adam’s apple bobbing, eyes big like a baby deer in the headlights. Steve had only seen him this scared a handful of times. “I need you to use those killer wingman skills of yours to make her fall in love with me.” 

Steve’s mouth almost fell open. He had to clench his jaw to keep from doing so, blinking across the six-inch gap at his friend. He could taste the weed on the other boy’s lips, the sweat off his brow. 

“Please, man. I can’t lose her.” 

—

Robin: You said yes!? How much do you actually hate yourself, Harrington?

Steve: You don’t want me to answer that, do you?

Robin: Was it the baby deer eyes?

Steve: Obviously.

Steve thanked Becky at the front desk with a wink, desperate the ego stroke he got every time she smiled at him like he hung the moon on a string. 

Mood boosted, he balanced the coffee order in one hand and his phone in the other and ducked into the nearest elevator that would take him to the penthouse. 

Steve: What do we think of Front Desk Becky?

Robin: You leave that sweet girl out of this. 

Sufficiently deflated by his wise best friend, Steve keyed in the code to Eddie’s penthouse and let himself back in. Your sneakers remained on the entry rug, camera bag discarded on a nearby table. 

Eddie’s bedroom door was open, satin sheets crumpled and pillows stacked to accommodate one. Upon quick glance, the ceiling mirror reveled the room to be empty. 

Steve frowned. He hoped he hadn’t woken you. 

He pressed forward down the hall and into the open living space, setting the cardboard coffee carrier on the kitchen island before turning to find you pressed against the glass, silhouetted in pink morning sunlight. Eddie’s face was buried into your neck, hands unseen, and your eyelids were heavy, pink lips bowed in ecstasy.

Steve froze. He knew he should look away, leave the room, make a noise, but his gaze lingered on the soft skin of your thigh hitched up Eddie’s leg, the curve of your calf, the point of your toe. 

He could hear his heartbeat thundering, breath held, desperate not to make a sound or to scream and run. 

Eddie dipped to his knees, mouth finding purchase lower on your chest.

Steve caught your gaze. Your eyes widened, and you shoved Eddie away from you and scrambled to cover bare skin with an oversized black hoodie. 

“Steve,” you breathed, and Jesus it was dizzying. “I’m so sorry. I thought you left.” You pulled the hoodie down in a vain attempt at covering your thighs, looking everywhere but at the bodyguard in the kitchen.

He felt his own face warm, tapping fingertips to the countertops. His throat felt tight, a loss for words. His pants felt tighter.

“I ordered us coffee, Sugar,” Munson recovered the quickest, taking your hand to help himself off the floor and lead you into the kitchen.

You resisted his pull, taking a few steps back to say, “I’m going to get ready.”

“Need help?” Eddie waggled his eyebrows, grinning like a dog. Steve tried to ignore how wet the man’s lips looked.

You shook your head, venturing a glance Steve’s direction and looking immediately away when you were caught. Then you slunk off back to the bedroom from whence you came.

When he finally heard the click of the door, Steve frowned at his employer. “Guess I should’ve knocked.” 

Eddie waggled his brows at Steve, too, taking his cup from the carrier and managing a sip. 

Steve was ready with an ice water to cool the man’s burned tongue. “Does this mean you made up?”

Eddie shook his head fervently, tonguing at his water like a dog. “Hell no. She told me she’s going to the gallery today because, and I quote, she ‘can’t be held hostage in this velvet prison forever’.”

Steve grinned over his own steaming coffee and shrugged in commiseration to his friend.

Eddie nodded, took a gentler sip of his own coffee this time. “Had to shut her up when she started telling me to ‘have fun in the UK’ and maybe I should look up some old friends while I’m there.” 

Steve swallowed and nodded. “I mean, Lizzie.” 

“Don’t make me pin you to that window, Harrington,” the rockstar warned, inked finger extended with a scowl. 

Steve followed his point to the window, wherein he could just make out the smudges of four distinct handprints, two much smaller than the others. There was also the faintest of smudges where your ass had been pressed against the glass. Steve coughed at the saliva gathering in his mouth.

“Eds?” You called upon reentry, voice echoing off concrete floors. “I’m leaving. I’ll… call you or something.” You were dressed and you had a tube of lipgloss in your hand, uncorked. 

Eddie scrambled for you, scooping you up in his arms. 

You stiffened, glancing up at the bodyguard keeping watch in the corner. 

Steve swallowed, made himself look busy. 

“Sugar, Steve’s going to keep an eye on you, just until we figure this death threat thing out, okay?” Eddie cleared the hair from your face.

Steve glanced back up to see you roll your eyes.

“I don’t need a babysitter. No offense, Steve.” You held a hand up to him. 

“He’s not a babysitter,” Eddie snapped, “and he’s going to keep you safe. I can’t lose you. You hear me?” He pulled your gaze back to him, cupping your small jaw in large hands. “I love you.” 

“Eddie,” you winced, tugging at his wrists.

The rockstar dropped his hands, shoulders hunched in defeat, and he turned to give Steve a pleading look before he turned back to you. “Alright, Sug. I’ll see you in two months. I’ll call as often as I can.” 

“Okay,” you nodded and allowed him to press a sweet kiss to your lips.

—

Your lipstick stained the lid of your lavender latte, peachy pink. Your nails were freshly manicured for the gallery opening, and you always wore that delicate gold ring on your middle finger. 

You set your cup on the countertop and didn’t look up from your laptop to say, “If you’re bored, you don’t have to stay here. I promise I’ll tell Eddie I never left your sight.” 

Steve smiled over his own cup. “I’m not bored.” To appear occupied, he settled onto the desk behind yours and pulled out his phone.

The first image on his feed was yours, something you’d managed to snap of the old woman and her husband from the opening. They stared at the portrait of their apartment building, hand-in-hand, and you’d taken it at just the right instant, when the husband was smiling down at his wife.

Mr. and Mrs. Edgar Jones • Chicago

The gallery opening was everything I’d ever hoped for. Thank you to all sponsors and patrons who attended and to everyone who helped pull this together. If you’d like to check out my work, please drop by the gallery and say hello.

Steve hummed to himself, double-tapping, and typed a comment.

sharrington: Best gallery opening I’ve been to.

“Steve,” you scolded, “quit commenting on my shit. I’m standing right here.” It was the first smile he’d seen since yesterday. 

“Oh, sorry,” he grinned, crossing his arms over his chest again to say, “Yours was the best gallery opening I’ve been to.”

That beautiful smile tugged even higher on your cheeks, despite your eye roll. “It was the only gallery opening you’ve been to.”

“You don’t know that,” he feigned offense.

You cocked a brow, bursting his facade until you were both snickering a laugh.

“Okay, but come on,” he pushed himself off the desk and strolled out into the open gallery. Egg shell white walls were naturally lit by skylights and the fourth glass wall of the small space. “This place was packed with people obsessed with your work, myself included.”

“Yeah?” You smiled, but remained behind the shelter of your desk. “Which one’s your favorite?”

A bubble of giddy excitement kicked in his chest, and he turned to face your artwork. The sunlight reflecting off the lake was good, the streak of streetlights in the rain, a collection of big, red brick buildings: all of these were his favorite. You’d managed to capture his city in unique and beautiful ways.

He pointed at each one and glanced back to see you shaking your head, eyes brightening and mouth failing to hide that smile.

Finally, he found that photo of the L he was admiring that night and wrapped his knuckles near it. “This one. You managed to capture no plastic bags.”

You rolled your eyes, but let his gesture pull you from your desk. “You can’t see it, but there was one caught around my ankle when I took the shot.”

Steve laughed. “Now that’s something I’d pay to see.” 

You sucked your cheeks in a pout and glanced down the row at all of your photos, your accomplishments on display. “Steve,” you muttered. “Can I… vent for a second?”

“Of course,” he nodded, turning to face you, giving you his undivided attention.

You turned your body toward him as well, hands tucked under your arms. “It’s about Eddie.”

Steve felt his brow raise, but he nodded, miming the zip of his lips and extending you the key.

You chewed around another smile and extended your hand for him to place the invisible key into and wrapped your beautiful fingers around it. Then, you looked back at your photograph and chewed on your words.

Steve leaned forward to catch your gaze, pull your focus back on him.

You sighed, shrugged. “It’s just… Eddie’s used to having women fall at his feet and do whatever he says, isn’t he?”

Steve tried to keep his expression stoic, but it was hard when he thought of all the bras he’d kicked off of a stage, all of the groupies Eddie fingered in the wings, all of the women he’d had to call a ride share for to ensure they got home safely, too wobbly on their legs to drive.

You barked a laugh. “I know he is because I’m one of them.” You didn’t seem amused.

Steve frowned, shook his head. You deserve more credit than that. You weren’t like the others, not by a long shot.

“He came to my opening, right? He saw how important this was to me. Hell, he told you to help me run it because he had faith in me that it was going to be big.” You gestured around wildly as you spoke, frustration building in your tone. “And yet, he expects me to just pack up everything and fly to England for two months?”

Steve swallowed, chewing on his own words now.

“I know, it’s because he’s worried about me, and I do appreciate that, but it’s also like… I feel like he didn’t know what he had in me until he saw me get spooked, and now he’s trying to lock me down.” You frowned. “I can’t be broken. I’m not a horse.”

Steve nodded.

You paused a moment longer before looking into his eyes again. “If I ask you something, you promise to be honest with me?”

He nodded again, slowly. He’d do anything for you.

“Do you think he’s really in love with me?”

Steve’s heart shattered at the hope that lingered in your voice. He swallowed, remembered his promise to Eddie, and nodded.

You let out another strained laugh, as though you couldn’t believe it, and centered yourself before asking another. “Do you think he’s going to sleep with other women while he’s away?”

Again, Steve steeled himself with a deep breath, and shook his head. Eddie wouldn’t if he knew what was good for him, and what was good for him was you.

You cocked a brow, unbelieving of this answer, and toyed with another question in your mind for a moment. “Do you think I should go with him to England?”

Steve furrowed his eyebrows and shook his head, gesturing around at your beautiful gallery. Two months with Eddie Munson wasn’t worth giving all of this up. If he was serious, and he really did love you, he’d prove it to you when he got back. 

Your lips ticked upwards at that answer. “Hey, this zipped-lip Steve thing is kind of fun. I should have made you shut up a long time ago.” 

Steve rolled his eyes and snorted at your delight.

You reached your hands out to grab his, swinging them back and forth between the two of you. Your hands were warm and and small and soft. “Hey, Steve, is there something you really, really want to tell me, but can’t? Because you can, you know.” You smirked. “This is a safe space. We’re all friends here.”

Sunlight poured in through the windows, casting your face in a golden glow. Your eyes sparkled, cheeks round, lips that soft, peachy pink.

There were so many things he wanted to say to you, he didn’t know where to start. So he caressed the backs of your hands with his thumbs and nudged you ever-closer.

The toes of your sneakers touched. Your eyelashes batted. You tilted your face skyward to look up at him. You licked your lips.

God, he wished he could kiss you. He wished he could taste the lavender of your latte and the length of your throat. He wished he could press you to the glass and let the world know you were his. He wished he could tell you every day for the rest of his life how beautiful you are, how talented you are, how perfect you are. 

The smile fell from your face. You released one of his hands to brush hair from his forehead. 

He held his breath. 

You searched his gaze for something, your own features filled with worry, and you nodded. “You’re really scared about this Jason Carver guy, huh?”

Steve blinked. He’d forgotten entirely about the roses, the death threat, the reason he’d been paid to spend time with you, to watch over you, to protect you. 

He cleared his throat and looked down at your hand in his. He brushed the back of it again with his thumb. His throat was tight, voice raw. “I just want to keep you safe.”

A bell rang, putting a few feet between you. You adjusted your hair and straightened your top before shooting him a ‘wish me luck’ look and stepping away to greet your newest buyer.

—

Hopper: No leads on that delivery. I’ve got Callahan asking around. Powell’s looking into Carver. Keep me posted on other developments.

Steve tapped nervous fingers to the deli’s glass countertops, craning his neck for a vantage on your gallery windows. 

You’d practically forced him out, insisting this was your favorite sandwich place in town and nothing else would suffice. When he offered to pay for delivery, you reminded him how uncomfortable you felt with deliverers right now and promised you’d lock the door behind him. He wished he could have convinced you to join him.

“Dude, we’re going as fast as we can,” the sandwich artist snapped, cutting pastrami into thin slices. 

Steve frowned back at him, confused for a moment, before taking his hand from the glass and shoving it into his jeans pocket. “Oh, sorry.” His foot tapped instead.

An 80s love ballad played over the speakers, and the whole place smelled of cold cuts. A small line had formed behind the counter of people going about their day-to-day. 

Steve looked at each one of them as a suspect. Though, he was pretty sure Babushka in the headscarf wasn’t eliciting death threats to beautiful girls via three dozen red roses. She felt more like the cast-a-spell type. 

He snorted and glanced back out the window just in time to see a black car pull up to the gallery. A man stepped out. 

“Forty-five?” The deli employee called out.

Steve took a few steps toward the window, squinting against the glare to see a tall man with white hair approach the glass. He wrapped two knuckles on the front door. You met him there.

“Dude, your sandwiches!” The guy behind the counter called, and Steve cursed, grabbing them with a thanks and a nod.

He glanced up just in time to see you unlocking and opening the gallery door, and he began to run your direction.

“Hey, man! You forgot your pickles! Asshole…” 

The wind whipped at his ears, and he nearly ran out in front of a moving vehicle. The driver honked and flipped him off, and Steve waited for him to pass before checking both ways and crossing to get to you again. 

He made a mental note of the black car’s license plate: GCCF and swung open the gallery door with a ring of the bell. 

The man stood beside you, tall and lanky, with broad shoulders and a haircut that hadn’t changed since the early 70s. He wore a grey suit, and a black tie, and a smile as he admired your photos.

You smiled at Steve from across the space and waved.

Relief warmed Steve’s spine, and he toed to the desktop to place the sandwich bag, careful not to make any noise so he could overhear bits of your conversation.

“That sounds like an amazing opportunity,” you said, even-keeled, though Steve knew you were bursting inside. “I’m honored for the invitation.” 

“I’m glad you agree,” the man chuckled. “Your talent really is a gift to this city, and we’ll be proud to display your work in our halls.” 

You were beaming. Steve’s stomach flipped.

“Now, our guests usually love to speak with the artists featured in the auction. Are you free Friday evening? Could I coax you to attend?” The man turned to face you now, reaching into his inside pocket for something.

Steve took two steps forward. 

The man extended you a small, white slip of paper. 

You read it over with a tight-lipped nod. Then you smiled. “I would love to go.” 

“Excellent,” the man nodded. “It is black tie. Could I give my assistant the name of a plus-one?” 

You swallowed before answering. “Sure, Steve Harrington.” 

Steve felt his face warm, and he nearly tripped over a power cord stepping back behind the desk. 

The man you were speaking to nodded with a knowing smile and glanced down at his watch. “Well, unfortunately I must be going. I have a lunch meeting to attend. Good timing too, it seems as if your lunch has arrived, and it smells delicious.” He ventured a glance Steve’s direction, and the bodyguard squared his shoulders. 

“Thank you so much for dropping by, and for your business. I look forward to the event.” You smiled, extending a hand for the stranger to shake.

He reciprocated your gesture. “Thank you for your work, my dear. It is breathtaking. Expect that deposit by end of day, and we’ll see you Friday evening. Have a great day.” 

“You too.” 

Steve watched you watch the man walk to the door and get into his car. Your chest was still, breath held until the black car was started and began to drive. 

Then, you began to jump up and down, screaming, like a teenaged girl who had just been asked to prom. 

Steve frowned, shaking his t-shirt to dry the sweat that clung to his back. “What’s going on?”

You grinned and did an adorable little skip and hop back to your desk, sliding two pieces of paper across for him to read. Then, you broke into the sandwich bag.

Steve peered down at a stark white business card with grey lettering, and a matching invitation. 

Martin Brenner

Founder and CEO

Gifted Children of Chicago Foundation

Gifted Children of Chicago Foundation

Annual Gala and Live Auction

“So, this guy, Brenner or whatever,” you explained, peeling the parchment paper from your bread, “just came in and bought my entire playground collection. Can you believe it? All nine photos. He said he’s going to hang them in the halls of his school.” The sound that came from your lips exceeded dogs’ hearing in pitch.

Steve bit back a smile to let you continue.

You took a huge bite of your sandwich first, olive oil clinging to the corner of your lips and dripping down the back of your hand. 

Steve shook a napkin from the paper bag and handed it to you.

You thanked him, mouth full, and swallowed before mopping your face. “Then he says he wants to offer up another one of my pieces in their annual live auction.”

Steve snapped a photo of the two cards and sent them to his contacts in the police force for some background information, nodding to let you know he was listening.

“Do you own a tuxedo, by the way?” You asked, cheek chipmunked.

Steve frowned back at you. He’d been head of security for Corroded Coffin for upwards of six years. He’d been to more award shows than he could count. Of course he had a tuxedo. 

“What?” You feigned innocence, cracking into one of the sodas you’d pulled from the vending machine while you waited for Steve to return. “If you have to be my new bodyguard, I can’t go to this gala alone.”

He sighed and began to neatly unfold his own sandwich, lettuce falling every which way. “Yes, I have a tuxedo.” 

“Really?” You grinned. “I should bring my camera.” 

He shot you a look. “You going to tell me why you unlocked the door for a random stranger while I was picking up your lunch?” 

You swallowed. “He sent me an email?”

Steve maintained eye contact while he popped the tab on his own soda, shoulders squared. He felt like a dad every time he interrogated Eddie for late nights out with no correspondence. The stance didn’t translate well to Robin over text. 

“I figured I could take an old man,” you shrugged.

Steve cocked an eyebrow.

You sighed. “Okay, I’m sorry. Won’t happen again.”

Satisfied, for now, Steve took a bite into his sandwich and stared back down at the business card on the tabletop, hoping this guy didn’t have any ties to Carver or whoever it was that sent you that note.

“No pickles?” You frowned, peeking into the mostly empty paper sack.

—

1 Voicemail

Hey, kid. It’s Hopper. Brenner’s one of Chicago elites, but as far as we know he’s harmless. He runs that school for gifted kids. Real pillar of the community type. Could be mob ties, but who the hell in this city doesn’t have mob ties? 

Couldn’t find anything on the delivery company, and no florists in town filled orders that big. Something’s definitely off. Powell spoke to Carver’s assistant, but he was out of the office. Keep an eye out.

Joyce wanted me to invite you and the girl to dinner. Stay safe, kid. Let me know if anything else comes up.

Lucas: All safely on the plane and ready for take off. England won’t be the same without you, man. Take care.

Eddie: Ready for take off. Thanks for taking care of my girl, big man. See you in two months.

Robin: You’re sitting in your car watching her apartment? You’re a creep, Harrington. Please tell me you don’t know the color of her bra tonight.

Steve groaned and rubbed at tired eyes.

He hated that he knew your bra was a soft, stone grey. He’d seen the strap slip down your arm. You’d caught it and pushed it back up, mid-conversation with a browser this afternoon. 

He glanced up from the glare of his phone at your open front window. He couldn’t see anything substantial from this vantage, just the shadows cast on dimly lit ceilings as you moved around your home. 

Maybe Robin was right, maybe he should go home and rest. No more threats had been issued today, that he knew of. You seemed to be less afraid than you were the day before, and with Eddie gone, maybe you weren’t in as much harm as you had been. Still, something gnawed at him. 

Steve startled when his phone began vibrating in his hand. Your name, and a photo of you grinning back at him, filled his little car with light. He answered. “Hello?”

“I can see you.”

Steve gulped and shifted to look back up at your window. You stood there in an oversized sweatshirt, waggling your fingers.

“Come inside, please.”

“What?”

“Bring your fedora and binoculars and come on up. I’ll buzz you in.”

You met him at the door in baggy clothes with two glasses of wine in your hand. You waited for him to step out of his shoes and shrug off his jacket before handing him one glass, and then you led him to the little futon propped up into a sofa near a loved coffee table.

A few candles burned, casting everything in flickered shadows. The place smelled of lavender and honey and smoky amber. 

“So,” you raised an eyebrow, sipping from your glass. You pulled your legs up to be crossed and tilted yourself to face him. “Tell me about this Carver guy.” 

Steve frowned, stretching an arm across the back of the couch to appear comfortable.

“Well, if it’s serious enough that Eddie’s got you staking out my apartment, I need to know who I’m up against.” You frowned, taking another sip from your glass, the legs spilling from your sweet lips and back into the liquid. 

Charity events attracted a diverse crowd, metal bands and church groups converging for the greater cause, their own positive PR. Knocked elbows at the start of the night often led to knockouts once the open bar started flowing. The mob made connections and burned bridges and somehow, the world kept turning.

One such event, Steve had eyes on Munson from across the room. The rockstar was flirting with some senator-to-be or another, a good friend of the Obamas, if he remembered correctly. Sinclair had eyes on the other band members at other tables. They all seemed happy, buzzed, low-key despite studded tuxedos.

Steve clocked the approach before Eddie had. A blonde man in a white suit caught sight and B-lined from near the stage.

Steve crossed to intercept him, stopping the young man with two fingers to his chest before he could get around the final linen-covered table. “Can I help you?”

The stranger’s face split in a menacing grin that sent chills down his spine. Never in his life had Steve felt something so cold. All his instincts went on high alert, fight or flight. One fist clenched at his side.

“I was just hoping for a little tête-á-tête with Mr. Munson,” the man gestured a hand out.

Steve dropped his hand, noticing the steel tie pin in the shape of a cross. “He’s busy at the moment, but let me take down your information, and we’ll see if we could find time for you at a later function.” 

“Are you his secretary or his babysitter?” Still with the grin, dead between the eyes.

“Why? You looking for a playdate?” Steve squared his shoulders, inches taller than the other man. 

“I’m just looking to ask one question.” 

“Shoot,” Eddie approached from behind Steve, shoulders squared in the same manner as his bodyguard. 

The other man tucked his hand into white jacket, and Steve stuck his hand in front of Eddie, just in case, until Carver retrieved his business card and handed it over. Sleek, white, with grey lettering.

Reverend Jason Carver

Faithful Servant of Christ

“Do you, Mr. Munson, take responsibility for casting yourself and all of your followers to the very depths of Hell to burn for an eternity?” 

Steve didn’t take his eyes off of Carver, but he could feel Eddie’s grin growing beside him. 

“You’re damn right I do.”

Carver seemed just as pleased with this answer as the rockstar had been. He nodded, an odd twinkle in his eye, and said, “Thank you so much, Mr. Munson. I hope you and your hell hound have a lovely evening.” 

That was the one and only time Steve had met the man, and he’ll never forget the weight of his presence. 

You’d set your wine glass on the coffee table beside his, and you were curled closer now, frown creasing your sweet brow. “And then he burned that place down in Milwaukee?” 

Steve sighed, playing with a loose thread on the futon, fingertips dangerously close to your shoulder. He wished he could sweep your hair back, kiss the crease from your forehead, reassure you he wouldn’t let anything happen to you. 

“Well, first, he had all of the funding pulled from that almost-senator, set her up for public exposure, basically ruined her entire life. When asked to comment, he said ‘jezebels and harlots get what they deserve’. Fucking asshole.” Steve scoffed.

There was a far-off look in your eye, like you were considering the weight of those words when compared to you.

Without a second thought, Steve brushed his knuckles against your cheek, pulling your focus back to him. “Hey, you know I’ll never let anyone hurt you, right?”

You surprised him by leaning into his touch, nodding. You released a shaky laugh, your voice caught in your throat. “I was really trying to be brave.”

Steve smiled, and opened his mouth to tell you you were, to tell you you were beautiful, to tell you he’s been in love with you from the moment he met you because you were all of those things.

Your phone began ringing, loud and incessant, a vibration from the coffee table that lit up the room with a photo of Eddie’s face. 

You ducked away from Steve’s touch and patted at warmed cheeks, reaching for your phone. “I should probably get this.”

Steve nodded, cleared his throat, reached forward to take a long swig of alcohol. It went down dry. 

“I actually think I’ll go to bed.” You silenced your phone and stood up, backing slowly from the living room. “You don’t mind the futon, right? Here are some extra blankets and a pillow.” You gestured toward a little wicker basket beside the sofa. “Use whatever you’d like in the bathroom.”

Steve stood to mirror you, hoping his smile seemed more reassuring than he felt. “Sleep tight. If you need anything…”

You nodded, smiled. “Thank you. Goodnight, Steve.”

“Night.” 

Halfway down the hallway, you answered your phone, sweet nothings murmured for someone else.

---

[A/N: So yeah, this just kind of... came out of me. It's been cooking since February, but I've sat down like three times over the last week and spewed out 10k. And I got too excited to wait to post it, so here you are. Please give me all your thoughts and feelings. Is bodyguard!Steve my new favorite Steve? Is rockstar!Eddie my new favorite Eddie? Maybe so. xoxoxo]

[groggygrimalkin]

die 06 for the ask game. Also spades slick

YEASSSS okay this is gonna be long since it's two characters but let's get into it!!

So first Die

favorite thing about them

He's a lanky grown ass man who looks like would shriek if I tapped him on the shoulder,his abject weirdness and pitifullness appeals to me in a way I can't explain. I both love him dearly and would bite him viciously

least favorite thing about them

Funnily enough despite the description of me wanting to bite him above there's nothing I dislike about Die! I wish he showed up more :(

favorite line

"Looks like he got what he deserved.

But, uh...

As usual, you find yourself in a bit of a predicament"

Like yeah you fucking did...

brOTP

Okay it might be out there but Die and Snowman...I like to think she's weirdly endeared to him and she's the one he hangs out with the most. She would have him do things for her like polish her claws or have coffee with her(of course he's the one making it). Most of what they do is him doing things for her but he likes the positive attention(at least he thinks it's positive I don't think Snowman emotes facially much)

OTP

Die × Itchy

They hate eachother. But like

They also think about eachother a little too much

Boxcars×Die because I see really cute art of them that I like!!

nOTP

None really!

random headcanon

Die is riddled with anxiety and probably shakes sometimes because of it like those chihuahuas that have to wear little sweaters. I also hc that he's a mammalian leprechaun with his DNA coming from a hare. They both look like they've seen God. He is very quick to flee from any situation,he's like the last guy you would call for any sort of help but when he does get into fights and actually stays he fights like hell. He also has a staring problem.

unpopular opinion

I touched on this in another post but Die would not like weed if he got high he would just be paranoid and scared it would not relax him it would make him horrified of everything and in turn would ruin everyone else's vibe

song i associate with them

I imagine this would be playing in that empty void Itchy and Die were playing cards in

https://youtu.be/rLW_CLW5a5g?si=6Vi_v4rhh3b2Qdrk

favorite picture of them

He looks like a deer in headlights I love him dearly

Okay now on to Slick!!

favorite thing about them

Okay without getting like too personal I had alot of childhood stuff having to do with Slick but over the years I've learned that I fucking love him. My favourite thing about him is how soft he gets around Ms.Paint it's so sweet. Also his lowkey goofy moments(like him trying to think of a line to say before killing Sawbuck and Crowbar,or him pretending to ride a horse and Snowman catching him)

least favorite thing about them

None nowadays,I love him very much

favorite line

"Hate to chop all of your heads off with this sword. Real sorry about that. My bad."

brOTP

All of the midnight crew. All of them.

OTP

Also all of the midnight crew. I like Polycrews!!

And Slickpaint!!!!I love Slickpaint so much it brings me so much comfort even as a kid I loved it and I still do!!

nOTP

Can't really think of one atm!

random headcanon

I hc Slick as Transmasc,idk why but I do and it makes me happy when I see other people do to! He never got top surgery because he doesn't care,who the fuck is gonna say anything about his chest. Everyone who has is dead now.

unpopular opinion

Don't think I have any tbh!

song i associate with them

This song makes me think of Slick and the midnight crew as a whole!I imagine their casino when I listen to it..

https://youtu.be/BQdLVzL5yqA?si=QqXcMpCZA-kfOAWL

favorite picture of them

[bots-and-cons]

Idk if there already is an 🦿anon but if not here i am

We need some dark shit with no happy ending. I was thinking like bots are visiting earth and find out their charge died from cancer but before passing they made a little goodbye video for bots especially their guardian.

I thought it would look better as a scenario but if its easier for you the please do hcs

For the bots i really wanted to read our grumpy medic, OP and wheeljack

Youre an amazing writer idk how are you doing this

Keep up the amazing work❤

I sort of did this for Jackie a while back, you can find that post here, so I won't be writing it again. I tried to give this a darker ending, and not a kind of hopeful one like I usually would. Also thank you very much and hello leg anon :D

~Optimus Prime~

You had been diagnosed a few months after the autobots had left earth and you really wanted to tell Optimus, but you had no way of doing so. You had been given approximately a year to live, and you held out hope for seeing him until your very last moments.

When Optimus returned to earth after over two and half years on Cybertron, he was contacted by Fowler, who gave him a memory stick, telling Optimus you had asked him to give it to him. Optimus of course wondered why you couldn’t just give it to him yourself, but the reason was about to become very clear to him.

He tried to call you, but the number apparently was not in use anymore, which he just explained away with you changing your number.

When he couldn’t contact you, he decided to see what was on the memory stick. He plugged it into the old base computer, and a window popped up with a loading icon.

You appeared on screen, and the video started playing.

“Hey Optimus!” you said with a bit of a forcefully chipper demeanor. “I wonder if you’ll ever actually see this, or if you’ll come back before… Well I guess I should explain why I’m making this first” your smile started to fade as you continued talking to the camera. “I was diagnosed with MBC. That stands for metastatic breast cancer and to be totally honest, I’m going to die from it and probably quite soon”

Optimus paused the video. He was well aware this wasn’t a joke, you wouldn’t do that, you weren’t that kind of person, but he also couldn’t see how this could be real. He decided to continue the video.

“I decided to film this for you, and maybe for myself too, to make sense of this whole dying thing. It doesn’t feel real, I mean I can feel my body basically decaying, but it’s like I still haven’t accepted what that means. I wanted to tell you I miss you and I hope to see you before I’m gone. I also want to be honest with you, I hated you for a while after my diagnosis, because you weren’t here and I felt so damn alone” you turned away from the camera a bit and wiped your eyes. 

Optimus was filled with grief and confusion. He was also angry at himself, for not leaving you a way to contact him. There was a small pause before you continued.

“Anyway I’ve come to terms with that I guess, I just still don’t understand how this whole thing can have such bad timing. If I was going to die anyway, I’d rather it had been with you and the rest of the team here” you started having a hard time with keeping yourself together.

“There are so many things I wanted to tell you, but now that I’m actually doing this, not a single one comes to mind. I guess it’s just time for me to say goodbye” you waved at the camera and the video stopped on you with a small smile on your face and eyes closed with some tears brimming in your eyes.

That was the last Optimus saw of you. You were dead now and he would never see you again.

Optimus hadn’t even noticed how weak the whole situation had made him feel, before he was suddenly on his knees on the floor, holding onto the edge of the computer screen. He felt weak and his spark felt like it was about to explode out of his chest. Above all he felt empty, he felt like a part of him had been ripped away, someone he had held so dear, his friend, was gone and there was nothing that could change that.

~Ratchet~

You didn’t really know how to start the video. You didn’t really feel like explaining the whole thing to someone again. So you were just going to make it short and to the point.

“Hey Ratch. I’m just gonna keep this short. I’m dying and I don’t have much time left, so I just wanted to tell you some things. First of all, you’ll always be dear to me, no matter where I end up or what happens to me. Second of all, I know you’re gonna feel guilty about not being here with me in my last moments, but you shouldn’t. No one knows when shit like this is gonna happen so, there’s no reason for you to feel bad about it. I mean yeah, dying sucks, but there’s nothing I can do about it. So, goodbye Ratchet, take care of yourself”

The video ended and the screen went black. Ratchet was left feeling all kinds of things, but mostly he felt broken, like a piece of him had broken into a million smaller pieces that were impossible to pick up and put back together again. He had lost friends before, but it  was due to war, there had been a reason for their deaths. For you, it was some illness that you had no chance of winning against, you had nothing to fight against, no war to win. 

There was no one else around while Ratchet watched the video, so there was no one to see him completely break down over it. The tears were streaming down his face and he was sobbing, trying to keep his voice down, covering his mouth with his hand, so nobody would hear him. He didn’t want anyone seeing him like this, he didn’t want their pity or to hear how sorry they were about his loss. That wouldn’t bring you back.

Sure you had been friends with the other team members too, but your relationship with Ratchet had been different, you were like family to each other. Your memory would live on with him, long after you were gone and he would always remember you.

[bnhababyyyy]

Dating Todoroki Headcanons <3

A/n: having sm Todoroki brain rot. Ltrly only thinking about him. There isn’t enough fics in the world, need more🤞🏽🤞🏽hope u enjoy

Warnings: none 😘

• Todoroki takes a breath each time he kisses you. Every time you stand near he straightens his posture. He cups your hand into his when you walk, it’s so casual he does it without thinking.

• During every party his eyes scan the room before finding you a seat and a drink.

• He just has an empty stare when other people talk and you know he’s thinking about anything other than the main topic.

• But when you talk he’s intensely focused and bringing up certain points of a story if you get off track. It’s just:

“…Then I found out he cheated on her twice. You’re probably thinking ‘how can anyone do that to someone they love’ right? Well actually the whole time—“ your phone chimes and you pause, “Oh hold on…”

When you look up you sit back in thought, “What were we talking about again?”

“You were about to explain why he cheated on her.”

“Oh right!”

*Repeat this 15 times*

• He loves watching discovery channel at 3 am, yk when they start airing episodes of “catching Bigfoot”, or “true signs of aliens” like he genuinley sits down and watches this. You have walked in on him, fully awake, one hour into these episodes, on cable television.

• Omg loves trashy reality tv as well. Watches love island and real housewives with you, he loves the drama. (Due to having such little social interaction, he believes people behave like this irl…)

• He gives you very detailed and sweet compliments. Compliments the way you smile with a kiss. Compliments any outfit he finds cute while feeling the material. Just calls you pretty while pressing a kiss to your forehead.

• Likes and reposts all your insta posts to his story.

• Will hit you with the sweetest, most heart gushing words you have ever heard before going to bed like it’s nothing. He will just:

“You’re the only person who makes me this happy. You’re perfect.” With a soft hand to your cheek.

Then passes out. like ???

• When you two argue he has the cutest expression, it’s just him with squeezed eyebrows and a frown. Looks so deeply in thought it almost makes you forget about what you were mad about.

• After any sort of argument he goes in for a hug. Stuff yours face into his chest. Asks if you’re okay or if you need anything. U can’t even be mad anymore!!

• Shares food with u all the time. Even if he is super hungry, he will let you take a bite from whatever he has. (He kind of even encourages it!!)

• Loves being apart of your regular everyday moments and making them super domestic. like cooking with you, watching television with you on his lap, washing your faces together. Turns every boring activity into a really fun quality time moment.

• He also loves to hold you by the waist, everywhere u go his hand is just on your waist. Maybe cause it’s easier to pull u closer to him?? Idk but he loves resting his hand there.

• He loves the way jewlery looks on you, how necklaces hang past your collar bone, how your earrings sway with your head, omg rings?? Loves it, always grabs your hands and plays with the rings on your fingers. Put on any form of jewlery and this man will be on you within seconds.

• He would literally be the sweetest boyfriend ever. Will take care of u better than anyone else. Only man worth getting on my knees for… to propose :)

[ofthestcrs]

"I do need to look at the apartment I'm supposed to be moving into." Caleb said quietly, "So I'll ... I'll just visit you and Shelley later." And that was that. Weird how the moment the two of them separated it felt like he could breathe again without it feeling like a million knives in his chest. Luckily enough, Hemlock Grove was not too terribly large of a town and he'd found his way to the apartments without much trouble. He'd stepped into the office to see a girl who couldn't have been older than him. She looked bored. Fingers fiddling with her hair and chewing on gum before blowing a bubble that popped loudly upon realizing she had a guest.

"Oh hey!" She beamed, "You must be Caleb! I'm Evie! I show all the apartments to new tenants, because my dad can't be assed to do it himself." She explained before standing up and holding her hand to shake. He took it carefully and she gripped his hand tightly as they shook. Jesus christ. She was ... intense.

"We aren't expecting any new tenants anytime soon so that's how I guess who ya were. I'm not creepy. Promise." Evie said then before pulling him out of the door. "Now for the tour-"

--

"Your keys, sir." Evie said jokingly before placing the set of keys in Caleb's palm an hour later. The tour had been ... well interesting and the place looked fine enough. Evie was nice and friendly and ironically was going to be one of his neighbors as well so it all seemed to be beneficial.

"Thanks." Caleb said softly then before heading out of the office and back to the apartment that was now his home. It was empty and it felt weird, but he knew he'd figure out things with furniture and what not eventually, but for now his mind was drifting back to Roman and the events of earlier. He sighed and finally looked to his phone, sending a text Peter's way first.

[Text To: Peter]

Sorry I disappeared like that, but I've got my own place now sorta. No furniture, but you're welcome to swing by whenever you want.

He sighed then and laid down in the middle of the empty living room floor. "You're doing this for a reason." Caleb said as he stared up at the ceiling, "You're doing this because they need you and you need them." His cheeks puffed up before he grabbed the phone again, opening the text thread with Roman. He contemplated what to say and if he should even say something. He felt annoyed but began to type.

[Text To: Roman]

Not sure when my car thing is going to be sorted out and since you live farther away than the rest of us poor folks you have two options. You can come to my new place that has no furniture or anything to do or if you wanted to pick me up like old times that's an option too. Or idk. Maybe you don't want to see me. That's fine to. Just uh let me know, I guess. Thanks

He felt stupid as he sent it and tossed the phone aside. His heart felt heavy and he had a sinking feeling in his stomach. Was he really going to be able to stop this place from self destructing on itself? Fuck. He hoped so.

Studying his expression, the Upir didn't know exactly was what running through his mind, though he could only hope he wasn't going to run away... again.

The mention of his dear sister managed to make the Wolf shift in his tone though, and his features, which was good at least.

Trying to tread carefully now, he brushed his slick hair back after perspiring slightly, leading Caleb out of the alleyway and onto the sidewalk, hoping the wolf would follow - "Unless you have other plans..." Godfrey finally added, adjusting the collar of his coat as he turned to face Caleb's freckled and crimson shade face, the sun now adorning how fucking beautiful he was.

"Whatever you wanna do with me can wait, Incase you got some shit to do with Peter or something - My door is always open for you, you know" He assured him, trying to somewhat indicate some sincerity and not being a total dick.

He regretted mentioning the odd hook ups, and it was real hard to just admit that Caleb was never perceived as anything like Godfrey was used to, he was marriage material - Roman was just fucking scared shitless.

[ijustwant2write]

Call Me By My Name-Pietro Maximoff x Powers!Reader

(GIF credit to @dailymarvelposts​)

Tags: @bloodorangemoonlight​ @amirahiddleston​

Requested by @husherstan​ : ‘could you write a one w pietro maximoff? idk if you know about a trend on tik tok where a gf or bf call them partners by they first name. Reader and Pietro are enemies cuz them both are always trying to be the best of t team, reader calls him by others names and when she (or gn) calls by him real name he was like "why are you calling me like that? whats wrong with you? are you feeling bad today?" (and he likes her so fucking much, a simp)’

Characters: Pietro Maximoff x Reader, Avengers team x Reader

Meanings: (Y/N)=Your name   

(Character has the power of force fields, that both generate electricity and provide protection for them/others)  

Warnings: Name calling, bullying, arguing, fluff

                                      *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“For the last time, watch where you’re going Speedy Gonzales!” I snapped as Pietro almost knocked me over again.

His form whizzed around the room once more before stopping in front of me.“Maybe try keeping up next time.”

I was startled by the force he left behind as he ran off again making a show of circling the entire training room multiple times, creating a small wave of air. I groaned loudly as I went back to jogging. He was such a show off, it infuriated me. We weren’t here to compete against each other, we were supposed to be a team; but when he waltzed around the place boasting about how fast he was, it was really hard not to step up to the plate. 

Pietro was running faster than usual, trying to overlap me dozens of times, more than he would have done in a normal session. It got on my last nerve, making me stop, my powers already flowing through my arms. It would be hard to pinpoint him, so I charged up a huge ball of electricity, casting it out harshly. I just managed to catch him, laughing as he yelped out in surprise, being thrown high into the air before landing on the sparring mats. I saw him slowly get up, clearly I had caused some pain. My fun was soon ended as he ran towards me again, having to quickly put up a force field that would protect me. Pietro bounced off it, though I hadn’t put any charge in this one, so he only fell on his backside.

“Enough!” Wanda yelled out, though we still kept our guard up around each other.“Really (Y/N)? You can relax now.”

“I don’t trust him.” I replied.

She sighed.“Come on, Steve wants to talk about the mission.”

“Why? We debriefed three days ago.”

“Something to do with it being on the news.” she shrugged, walking away.

Pietro glanced back at me, looking me up and down before following his sister. However, he didn’t look at me with disgust or anything of the sort, it was almost as if he was checking me out. I tutted at myself, why on Earth would he ever look at me like that?

I wasn’t happy joining the meeting in my sweaty state.Everyone else was dressed and put together, but at least Pietro looked similar. The team was gathered around a table, looking to Steve who was stood at the front, his arms crossed over his chest. He had the look of disappointment on his face, which meant bad news for the rest of us...or whoever was in trouble. With no seats left, I copied Steve’s stance at the back of the room, rolling my eyes when Pietro stood beside me.

“Sorry to call you guys in on such short notice.” Steve started.“But I feel that we have to discuss something that’s starting to effect the team.”

He pulled up a screen showing the news. It had images and videos of our last mission. We were raiding an old factory on the edge of the city, finding a terrorist group hiding out there as they worked on their gadgets. News coverage showed the team fighting from a helicopter view, and we were all confused as to why Steve was showing us this.

“Fastest man alive,” Pietro repeated what the reporter said,“it has a nice ring to it.”

“I wouldn’t put that in your Tinder bio.” I quipped, causing a few chuckles.

Steve looked at me.“And this is why we’re here today.”

I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion.“What?”

“You and Pietro are always at each other’s throats. It’s...well frankly, it’s exhausting listening to you two arguing all the time. And it could seriously put someone in danger whilst on a mission, even you two.”

“He always starts it-”

Pietro held up a finger.“Hold on, you do too-”

“You’re just proving his point guys.” Natasha spoke over us.

“As I was saying,” Steve brought the attention back to him,“the media has also caught onto this. There’s multiple images of you two clearly arguing, or even getting in each others way during the mission. At one point, you’re both trying to save the same person, but almost miss that chance because you’re so invested in being better than the other!”

Steve was really mad, and from everyone else’s faces, they thought the same thing.

“So until all of this changes, you two are suspended from any missions.”

“What?!” we both exclaimed.

“And you may not approach any other team member for assistance with training.”

“Why are we both being punished?” I demanded to know.

“Oh, do not play the victim here Mrs Incredible!” Pietro snapped.

“Mrs Incredible is super stretchy, it’s the daughter who has the same powers as me, you idiot!”

“See? You’re further showing me that I made the right decision. I felt bad at first, but now I know that this is the right direction to go in.” Steve raised his voice.“You’re both dismissed.”

“Well, what are the rest of you doing?” Pietro dared to ask.

“We are going to go over all the planning we have done for upcoming missions. Everything has to change because of you two. Now please go.”

I held it together as I left the room, not wanting to appear like a toddler stomping away in a tantrum. It was impossible to get away from Pietro, what with him being ‘the fastest man alive’, but I was going to try. I didn’t need another argument right now, I was upset, needed to be alone. Apparently, I wasn’t going to get that.

“Leave me alone.” I warned Pietro as he followed me.

“I can’t believe this! They’ve kicked us off the team because you always have to say something-”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“And to think, they’re going to risk not having me on the team. I help them with everything, I’m a crucial part-”

“Pietro!” I shouted, spinning on my heel to face him. 

His eyes widened at that, glancing down to my clenched up fists, little electric sparks running over them, before looking me in my teary eyes. 

I sighed, relaxing my tense shoulders and hands before leaving. There was no point trying to explain. He wouldn’t understand. We would both get mad, probably fight, the team would have to break us up; I had no energy to do that. Slowly turning away, I was surprised by the silence that followed, Pietro didn’t even follow me. 

I checked the time on the lock screen of my phone, seeing that an hour had passed since I fled from Pietro. It also made me realise how dark the room had become, the sun would set in a few minutes. But I didn’t bother turning on any lights, instead leaning back again on the chair. I was sat in an empty lobby, it was a small room, facing the floor to ceiling window that showed the landscape that surrounded the headquarters. Besides just sitting here, I should have distracted myself. Perhaps put on a film, relax after training, something to take my mind off of things. Instead, I decided to sit with my thoughts.

“H-hey.” I heard Pietro quietly say from the doorway. 

Looking over my shoulder, I didn’t reply, facing the window again when he began walking towards me. He hesitantly turned on a lamp near us, sitting on the chair beside mine. Pietro also looked out of the window, clasping his hands together for a few seconds before fidgeting. I tried to ignore it, though after an hour of peace and nothingness, it became irritating quickly.

“Can you stop?” I blurted out.“Please?”

“Are you annoyed by everything I do?” he asked.

“Not...everything. I just...doesn’t matter, it’s not like you care anyway.”

“That’s not true.”

“I’m not falling for this Pietro.”

“Why are you saying my name?”

“What?”

“You never say my name. Actually, we never say each others names.”

“And why does that matter?”

“It just feels, it feels serious.”

“I mean, we’ve basically been kicked off the team, so yeah, it’s serious.”

“We’ve not been kicked off the team (Y/N).”

“We could be if we don’t get our act together.”

“It won’t go that far-”

“But it could! I can’t believe how calm you are about the whole thing.” I stood, distancing myself from him.“I’ve worked too hard for this. Imagine what would happen if word got out that I was disbanded from the Avengers because of a tiny argument, with a team member who is so narcissistic that he can’t put others before himself!”

I realised I had began ranting, stopping myself before I said anything else hurtful. But by the look of Pietro’s face, it was already too late.

“I...I’m sorry (Y/N).” he never broke eye contact.“And before you say anything, I mean it.”

“Pietro, I-”

“I can see how much this job means to you.”

“It’s my fault too. I always try to outdo you or challenge you.”

“No, don’t be humble.” he got out of his seat, standing in front of me.“It’s almost always my fault that we argue. And I hate myself for it.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I’m usually very good with the ladies.” he grinned, though it disappeared when he realised it wasn’t time to joke.“But not around you apparently. It’s probably because you’re extremely strong and sure of yourself, and I go for a different type, the polar opposite to you.”

“Pietro, I...um...”

“I was really impressed by you when we first met. It made me nervous actually.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, all I can do is run really fast.”

“But, you’ve been on much more missions than I have. Doesn’t that say something?” I hung my head.

“Are you crazy? You’re not on those missions because they don’t need you.”

My head whipped up to see his smile drop.

“I didn’t mean it like that! I meant that those missions are for Avengers like me. The ones they can use over and over without worrying about them being too tired for the next one. What I’m trying to say is, you’re too important.”

“I never thought I would say this, but Pietro, you’re an important part of the team too. I always rose to your challenges because I felt I needed to prove something to the others. I was new, then I was accepted after all my relentless training, but when you and Wanda came along, I instantly became old news. And you didn’t even go through the rigorous regimes like I did, so I just assumed you were better than me.”

“It seems we were both wrong about each other. We were going through a lot of effort to outdo the other when we could have saved that energy for...well, anything else really.”

“Yeah. I suppose so.”

Pietro held his hand out.“Truce?”

I smiled up at him as I shook it.“Truce.”

A cheeky smirk appeared as he raised an eyebrow at me.“Let’s not tell the team about this just yet. I feel like there would be a lot of ‘I told you so’.”

“It’s like you read my mind.”

“And another thing.”

I noticed he was still holding my hand, though they were lowered now, and his grip wasn’t as firm.“Yes?”

“Can we start calling each other by our actual names?”

“I mean, I assumed we would anyway.”

“Oh, good. I just...”

“You just?”

“I just like the way it sounds when you say my name.”

[pwarkluv]

❝ idk you yet ❞ - p.js

park jisung x reader | angsty, fluff | 1.6k words 

WARNINGS | TW: mentions blood, abuse, drug and alcohol abuse, smoking, lowercase au, non-idol au, high school au, badboy!jisung, mature language/cursing, reader is like an angel sent from heaven for him, jisungie just in need of love :(

SUMMARY | being an outcast has him wondering if he’ll ever be happy. cue you, the new girl, stumbling into his life (literally).

AUTHOR’S NOTE | inspired by the song “idk you yet” by alexander23! also AHHH this is my 100 followers special fic :) THANK U LOVES FOR 100 IM SO SHOCKED CJSBFKEJD <33 the writing is a little crappy because i’m currently on my period and my patience for sitting down and writing this went down halfway through lol but I LOVE YOU SO MUCH, ENJOY THIS JISUNG FIC BC JISUNG MY BABIE AND SO ARE YOU GUYS!

whenever anybody thinks of park jisung, they think of the chains and dark clothing he wears. they think about the faint smell of smoke and men’s cologne that follows him wherever he goes. 

they think of the boy who grew up on the wrong side of the tracks. 

but what they don’t think about are bruises on his face he fails to hide whenever he walks into school, the dejected look on his face whenever random people give him disapproving looks, the way his smile slowly faded into a permanent frown wherever he went. 

jisung quickly accepted his reputation at school and in their little town, not having enough energy to feel insecure about it like before.

the only group of people that even remotely cared about the boy were his best friends in the whole entire world, nct dream.

they were outcasts just like him, the most “fucked up group of boys” in their town (the people’s words, not theirs).

see, they were your typical bad boy group straight out of your typical fanfic. bad grades, smoking in their free time, getting into fights, always being late to class; not a single person had hope in them.

but behind their scary and intimidating facade, all seven boys were big softies with misunderstood hearts and difficult backgrounds.

people were just too dense to look into it, only judging them based on their looks and personality on the outside. 

❝ how can you miss someone you’ve never met ❞

love was a foreign thing to jisung, the only form of love he’s ever felt being from his friends. his parents were… interesting to say the least. 

jisung’s father was a hard-core alcoholic, his mother being a major druggie. with no siblings in the house, jisung was usually their main target to push around and beat up.

and so because of this at a young age jisung learned to distance himself from other people and found different ways to release stress.

he started smoking when he was 14, the warm and hazy feeling of the smoke entering his lungs comforting him.

if jisung humored himself enough, maybe smoking could count as his first love. it was always there for him, never leaving him alone even if he wanted to quit. 

he relied on it knowing it was the only constant in his life. 

now of course the boy has heard of proper love, love like in the movies or shitty romance songs he hears on the radio.

and he won’t lie, there were moments he thought about what it felt like to be in love. but he knew that would never happen, at least not in their small town anyways. 

he just wanted to be loved. 

jisung would never admit it but sometimes he’d be jealous of the old couples walking down the street in their own world like it was just them two against the universe. he was jealous of the happy kids running around, their mother’s and father’s fondly smiling at their child. he was jealous of all the “normal” kids in his neighborhood. 

jisung wanted that, craved that. 

but most importantly, the boy wanted love.

❝ cause i need you now but i don’t know you yet ❞

everything hurt. 

his head, his body, his mind, his heart; everything was in pain.

jisung walked down the empty streets of their city, a trail of blood following behind him as he accepted his fate. the boy was 99% sure he had a concussion and at the very least had a few broken ribs. 

he felt like this was the end, and he was ready.

-

wandering aimlessly around town, you decided to take a late night walk to familiarize yourself around the area. you had just moved into the city a week ago, spending all seven days trying to help your family unpack and rearrange your cozy new home. 

now that you were finally free of the smell of tape and the dust of the boxes, you decided it was best to get to know the place you were living in. 

the autumn air seemed to settle at night as you shivered, cursing yourself for not bringing a jacket of some sort. the sight of a convenience store up ahead of you brought you relief as you rummaged through your pockets wondering if you had enough money for ramen.

your steps became excited as you found a couple dollars, fondly thinking about what type of ramen you should buy. you became so lost in your thoughts you didn’t even notice the poor boy who was staggering in front of you, or the trail of blood he left behind. 

-

jisung pushed himself to reach the convenience store a couple feet away from him, in desperate need of supplies to at least try and fix himself. 

if it didn’t help in any way then oh well, maybe death was indeed an option. 

grinding his teeth though the pain, he did not expect to feel a small body bump into him. had he been at his regular health, jisung would’ve easily been able to keep still but because of how much blood he was losing the boy was knocked down like a bowling pin.

“holy fuck.” jisung cursed the feeling of the concrete floor colliding with his ribs. he didn’t even notice the girl who had bumped into him sitting on the floor dumbfounded, freaking out over his state.

“oh my fucking god.” the girl said, capturing his attention. jisung glared at the stranger, mentally acknowledging the fact she was pretty. 

but her being pretty won’t get you anywhere, he scolded himself. she’ll leave you just like everyone else.

“a-are you okay?” she said, eyes glancing at his black eye. jisung rolled his eyes, already annoyed. “does it look like i’m okay?” he replied, his deep voice catching the girl off guard. 

“just, fuck off.” jisung said closing his eyes as he laid back down on the floor, knowing he couldn’t force himself to get up anymore. he didn’t even have to open his eyes to know she left, hearing the sound of her footsteps walk away.

the boy sighed as he laid idly on the floor, wondering what sin he committed to lead him to where he is now. not even she wanted to stay, the tears threatening to fall as his thoughts buried him alive.

“why can’t i just die?” jisung said out loud, asking no one but himself.

“because i won’t let you.” a voice replied as jisung forced himself to sit up in confusion. it was the same girl he had bumped into, but this time she had a first aid kit with her. he gave her a lost look despite knowing what she was here to do. 

jisung’s mind just couldn’t wrap around the fact that a total stranger would even bother to help him. 

“now sit up.” she said softly as she bent down to open the box, the boy slowly followed her instructions. “i’m sorry this might sting.” she said though jisung didn’t mind because she was much prettier up close.

-

the next ten minutes were you trying to fix his wounds against the shitty chairs outside the convenience store.

jisung didn’t even bother mentioning his broken ribs, not wanting you to freak out. you cleaned up what you could and the boy was beyond grateful for that.

you subconsciously rubbed his back in a comforting way whenever you’d apply alcohol to his open wounds, trying to ease the sting. you held his hand for him to hold and though he was a big boy and had a high pain tolerance, he still gave it a squeeze just to keep your hand there.  what the actual fuck is this feeling, jisung asked himself as he watched your determined figure work on him.

it was cold and in order to better work on his wounds, the boy offered to give you his hoodie which strangely had no traces of blood on it. you gladly accepted, the faint smell of blood and his cologne engulfing you up. 

the sight of you in something so big and so him made his chest swell in pride.

jisung couldn’t even formulate a sentence as you cursed at the time once you finished patching him up, fleeing the scene before he could say anything with a small smile, his hoodie still on. 

❝ and can you find me soon because i’m in my head ❞

the thought of your soft hands on his, your voice, your whole presence; everything about you couldn’t seem to leave the poor boy’s mind. it was now monday, and waiting for his class to start already made him want to go home.

if only i got her name, jisung daydreamed with his head resting on the palm of his hand. the classroom was loud and bright, people occasionally giving him looks but the boy didn’t mind. 

“jisungie~ did you hear we have a new kid?” jaemin asked, poking the boy’s cheeks. the boy only gave him a pointed look before sighing. 

“hyung i don’t really care.” jisung replied, looking back out the window. 

jaemin only gave him an offended look before grumbling a bit. “i don’t know maybe you will.” he muttered under his breath as their teacher walked into the room. 

❝ yeah i need you now but i don’t know you yet ❞

their homeroom teacher stood in front of the class, jisung tuning out his voice. the boy once again sighed as his teacher called for their attention, explaining they had a new girl in their class. “now make her feel welcomed,” he said before turning towards the door.

“y/n, please come in.” the teacher said and jisung almost fell out of his seat when he saw you walking through the door with the same smile you gave him a couple days ago.

“hi i’m y/n and i hope we can get along.” you bowed to the class, a familiar hoodie you were wearing catching his attention. 

isn’t that mine, jisung thought to himself as he bit back a smile knowing you kept it all along. 

[shotorozu]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐤𝐲𝐮𝐮 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐬’ 𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮

𝟰𝟬𝟬 & 𝟱𝟬𝟬 𝗳𝗼𝗹𝗹𝗼𝘄𝗲𝗿𝘀 𝘀𝗽𝗲𝗰𝗶𝗮𝗹

character(s) : haikyuu!! - multiple characters

legend : [Y/N = your name] f!reader with they/them pronouns. fluff to the mildest of spice, not nsfw. timeskip 

note(s) : so like.. the bnha one did very well, so i wanted to do a haikyuu version of it. im obviously not doing all the boys sadly. (will probably do 3-5 boys per team idk), but i’ll just do as many as i can until my idea train dies. i would add more tags but 30 is the limit so.. sorry. very long overdue because this was in my drafts for the longest time

read more will be added later along with the link to part one.

»»————-　♡　————-««

hinata shoyo

↮ a legs lover. there’s something about them he’s really enamored by. a bonus if you’re shorter than him, and an even bigger bonus if you’re taller than him (if you’re much taller than him since he’s 5′7 in the timeskip, I think) then he’ll pass tf out) he LOVES it when you wear stockings or fishnets, and he loves the way the material contours the shape of your legs. he’ll stare at them a lot, and he will be embarrassed if you catch him, and even more so when the team catches him. please reassure him that it’s fine.

kageyama tobio

↮ loves your chest, regardless of size (but if you must insist, he leans towards bigger sets) is it a thing connecting to milk? he doesn’t really know to be honest. kageyama really loves taking naps on your chest, because he falls asleep pretty fast when he takes naps on your chest. he won’t touch them because he’s a lil hesitant, but he’ll just.. rest his hand on there, and admire the softness. (will suckle on them if you’ll let him. is it a milk thing? again, we don’t know)

kōshi sugawara

↮ your lower back is his favorite. it’s not so common as “breasts” or “ass” but, he has good reasoning behind his favorite! in general, he loves his face, but he loves just laying his hand on your lower back. there’s just something about looking at you from behind that makes his heart pound 10x faster. oh and, he really loves putting kisses on there, because every time your back will be towards him in your shared room, he’ll catch a glimpse of those little bite marks. he’s smug, and he’s very proud of them, especially because you can only see them.

tsukishima kei

↮ he’s stuck between hands, tiddies and neck, but for the sake of this post- we’ll settle for hands. they’re so much smaller than his?? like.. he wonders how that’s possible, and he’ll probably tease you about it. (uh.. how can someone’s hands be that long? tf tsuki) it’s canon that he fiddles with his fingers when nervous, so when he’s with you- he’ll fiddle with your fingers instead. he also finds himself playing with your fingers, memorizing all of the details of your fingers. if you offer to put on bandages on his fingers whenever he gets hurt or something similar, he’ll get very bashful. but please do that!! he loves that a lot. with tiddies, his preference is definitely on the smaller side ngl

kozume kenma

↮ collarbones to him are  ଘ(੭*ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚ “mwah.” so elegant, so beautiful. how did this happen? well- he was doing work one day (like the rich man he is) and you sit on his lap per usual- but !! your collarbones were all up in his face. he’ll get very red, and lose focus, so give him a heads up. wear shirts that show off your collarbones, and he’ll stare hard. so yeah. he loves resting his face on them, and he’ll occasionally give you kisses, ranging from cute lil ones, to the wet open mouth kisses. 

yaku morisuke

↮ yaku likes short hair, i repeat- he likes short hair. therefore!! his favorite part would be your upperback/neck. it really depends if you’re taller than him or shorter than him. tbh idk how tall that man is in the timeskip (but he sexy af) but he always loves resting his hand on your upperback, regardless if you have long hair or short hair. if you’re shorter than him, he’ll pull you in for a hug with a hand on your upperback, and if you’re taller— he’ll rest his head on your shoulder, hand loosely hung around your back.

lev haiba

↮ this man screams legs man. like.. i also don’t really have much evidence to back this up, but this man has this weird attraction to your legs. he’ll probably make you walks in front of him so he can take a good stare at your legs. doesn’t matter if they’re long, skinny legs— or short ones! he just adores legs. lev is really tall so.. please put your legs on him, he’ll be in heaven. his preference definitely leans on long legs though.. he just really likes them :)

oikawa tōru

↮ uh ok.. i had a difficult time with deciding with this one tbh, but this man loves your waist. at first, i thought he was a tiddies man, which.. i feel like he is? but not that much of a tiddies man compared to being a waist man. his favorite way to greet you is to hug you from behind, hands resting on your waist as he inhales your scent. he’ll probably bite the soft skin on your waist as a way to tease you, that is.. if you allow him lol

iwaizumi hajime

↮ man is a collarbone man, change my mind. again, i partially feel like he also loves thighs and ass but look!! collarbones. he loves seeing them when you wear baggy clothes, unintentionally showing off your collarbones to him. his mind goes haywire at the sight. loves putting kisses on your collarbones, occasionally putting hickies there— but he also doesn’t wanna inflict pain on your collarbones so.. hickies are not a common thing. but don’t worry! he has a lot of ways to show you his love for collarbones.

akaashi keiji

↮ definitely a collarbone/hands type of guy. he has a strong affixiation towards them, it came to the point that even bokuto noticed that he had some sort of attachment to them. he just loves admiring collarbones, especially if they’re adorn with shiny necklaces, or just anything that’ll make them look amazing. as for hands, he loves playing with the tip of your fingers— tracing from your wrists, to the back of your hands, to your fingertips.

bokuto koutarou

↮ thighs :)) his preference is “the bigger, the better” and it’s literally canon too. he doesn’t mind smaller thighs, but he’s such a sucker of huge thighs. i guess it’s because he has thick thighs himself so that’s why bigger girls gravitate towards him. there’s always a hand on your thigh if you sit on his lap, and before games, he finds himself patting your thighs for good luck (he’ll never smack them because man’s highkey gonna leave marks on you)

ushijima wakatoshi

↮ thighs. thighs. thighs. man absolutely loves them, more so if they’re a little bit on the thicker side, but obviously— if this man loves you, he’ll love all of you. head really empty, and it’s just him gripping on your thighs while he drives the car, practically having a vice grip on your poor thighs— but it’s okay, because he’ll rub the irritated spot with a gentle touch, his baritone voice apologizing to you. not really big on words, but.. he’ll stare at your thighs a lot.

tendou satori

↮ has a thing for your hips. hm tbh, i was stuck between him having a thing for your neck and thighs— but he absolutely loves hips, just as any other intellectual. he loves squishing the plump flesh between his skinny fingers, and he also loves tapping on them while you stand infront of him doing.. with small hips, he still likes holding on then. okay but,, he also really loves hip dips. even he can’t explain it, he’ll just repeat him— telling you he loves hip dips. he really loves the silhoutte of them. so yeah, if you’re insecure, he’ll punt your insecurities until they rot :)

semi eita

↮ he admires your hands, it’s just that.. they feel so much softer than his, and the size difference between your hand and his hand makes his mind go haywire, his heart pounding against his chest. his hands are still in top shape, but over the years— they definitely roughened a bit due to practicing guitar and other instruments for his band, so his heart will definitely swoon if you put lotion on them. he’s also the type that would kiss the back of your hand before gigs for good luck, only to kiss them after his shows, saying he did well because of you :)

rintarou suna

↮ a thighs man for sure. the bigger thighs the better, it’s just his preference. not saying he hates small thighs though— thighs will be thighs. however!! his preference just loves squishy thighs. if you were to squeeze them around his head— he’d surely die a happy man. doesn’t care where y’all are and who you guys are with, he’s 100% going to put his hand on your thigh. if you decide to wear clothes revealing your thighs, or just.. tight fitted jeans or leggings, expect him to squeeze the soft flesh that’s there. he’ll definitely make a remark about how your thighs expand like crazy when you sit down, but he doesn’t mean it in a insulting way. he actually really loves it.

kita shinsuke

↮ he loves everything about you, so it really takes him a while to actually settle on something. one day— he’ll be touching your thighs, another day he’ll be holding your waist, then another day, he has his hand gliding over your collarbones. eventually, he settles on favoriting your hands, because he can hold them regardless of the setting. he can kiss them, hold them, and intertwin his fingers all he likes.

the miya twins

↮ OSAMU LOVES TIDDIES, AND ATSUMU LOVES ASS :) i don’t make the rules.

»»————-　♡　————-««

likes and reblogs are appreciated, thanks for reading! (can y’all tell i got a little exhausted with writing the miya twins lol)

i do not own haikyuu!!/hq!! and it’s characters. haikyuu belongs to haruichi furudate, i only own the writing.

do not plagiarize my work :))

edit : just realized y’all like haikyuu so.. please submit haikyuu headcanon ideas

[silversatoru]

Hi, I just finished burdens and OML 🥺🥺🥺

May I request some sort of megumi x reader continuous where the reader ends up becoming a powerful sorcerer (or a cursed spirit👀 whichever you’d like tbh) megumi and the reader somehow cross paths again a little while after the break up and he witnesses her fighting for the first time? I just know that boy would fall in love all over again but she’s moved on and he feels guilty and just angst? And maybe fluff idk. I’m new to requests so I hope I did this right, thank you so much❤️❤️

burdens pt. 2

a/n: hello, part two of this not-so-lovely story is finally here. every single one of you is allowed one free punch to my face for taking so long to write it,,, i’m so sorry. this is its fourth rewrite and it got a little darker than expected but it’s finally done,, i hope you enjoy <3

fushiguro megumi x f!reader

synopsis: you finally see megumi again at the kyoto sister school goodwill event

tags/warnings: angst, some graphic depictions of violence, character death

word count: 3k

“Do you know how tired I am of watching the people I love die? Things would be so much easier for me if you just stayed the fuck away”.

Megumi’s bitter words were on repeat in your head — the harshness of his voice leaving a hollow feeling carved into your chest. Tear-stained cheeks and shaky breathes had become your new normal these past few days. Tight, sharp pains filled your empty stomach, waves of nausea coursing through your body.

You’ve had no motivation to get out of bed lately, nevermind to shower or cook yourself a proper meal — honestly, for all you cared you could rot away in your blanket filled bed. You checked your phone like a fiend too, thinking that eventually, a miraculous text from Megumi would appear and make everything better. It never did.

He’d completely ghosted you since that dreadful day, and that hurt more than anything. You’d held onto a sliver of hope that maybe, just maybe, he hadn't meant what he said. But as the days continued to pass, your hope quickly dwindled.

To say your current state was shameful was putting it lightly, and you were embarrassed at how poorly this was effecting you. You liked to think that you were strong, motivated, independent — that you didn't need some douchebag just to feel happy. But truth be told, breakups are fucking hard, and it's okay to not be okay for a while — or at least that's what you kept telling yourself.

So when you were trudging miserably down the street to your local convenience store and you saw a familiar pair of jujutsu sorcerers, you wanted desperately to sink into the ground. You made a quick turn to head to a different shop, but it was too late, you were spotted.

“y/n! hey!” Two lighthearted voices sang through the air, filling your ears and making your heart clench in your chest.

You turned around and anxiously approached them, your unkempt hair and baggy eyes sending looks of concern across their faces.

“Hey girl, you good?” Nobara shot you a sideways glance, Maki raising a suspicious eyebrow.

“Yeah, uh, ice cream,” You croaked, speaking for the first time in a couple days, “I’m here for ice cream, that’s all”.

“Yeah, but why do you look like a fucking zombie?” Maki pushed her eyeglasses further up her nose, her sharp eyes looking you up and down.

“Ah, he didn’t say anything to you guys, did he?” You shook your head, heavy eyes falling to ground as you refused to meet theirs.

“Don’t tell me…” Nobara’s face contorted, “Did he break up with you?”

You nodded, a pitiful chuckle falling from your lips, because if you didn’t laugh, you’d start sobbing right now.

Maki threw her arm around your shoulder, pulling you to her side and ushering you into the store, “It’s okay, men suck. Hang out with us today”.

Meanwhile, Nobara trailed quickly behind the two of you, anger seething from her teeth and steam practically billowing out of her ears.

“That fuckhead! I swear I’ll fuck his shit up big time, he won’t even know what fucking hit him. I knew that boy was stupid but shit, this is a whole new low for him! I-,” She continued to ramble and rant as Maki led you through the store, picking out drinks and snacks to help ease your pain.

The three of you ended up in a nearby park, sitting around a small picnic table and gorging on the massive array of snacks. Lighthearted conversation and lots of food make your chest ache a little less, and you even found yourself laughing and chatting as if things were normal. You’d told the two of them all about that day, about Megumi’s irrational words and his tragic breakdown that led to some kind of fucked-up break up sex.

“So, how are we gonna get back at him? Egg his car? Put bleach in his shampoo? Bugs in his food? God - it’s a shame his dad is dead because from the pictures I’ve seen that man was FINE and revenge sex—,”

“Nobara,” Maki shot her idiot girlfriend a dirty look, and the orange-haired girl quickly shut her mouth, “As much as I support any idea that revolves around ruining a man’s day, I don’t think revenge is the healthiest coping strategy here”.

You were tracing your eyes around Maki’s face as she spoke, and you found yourself carefully inspecting her purple glasses that rested softly on the bridge of her nose. And that’s when it clicked, the light bulb ignited in your head and you knew exactly what you wanted to do.

“Maki,” your voice was urgent, “You don’t have cursed energy, you can’t even see them without your glasses!”

Her face twisted and her nose scrunched, a look of distaste in her eyes, “I know?”

“So, you could teach me, right? You could help me learn how to use some cursed weapons?”

“Yeah! You have to Maki, then she can beat his ass with me,” Nobara chimed in.

“That’s not a bad idea actually,” Maki’s mouth formed an evil grin, “Could you imagine his face after watching you exorcise a curse?”

The three of your conversed for a bit longer, speculating and potting about training, weapons, and your very own pair of curse-seeing glasses. By the end of the night you had a plan, and a pretty good one if you say so yourself.

From that day on, teary eyes and achy hearts were a thing of the past, not because it was that easy to get over Megumi, but because Maki didn’t even allow you the time to feel dismal anymore. You met her everyday after classes without fail, and everyday she would train you until you thought your arms would fall off. After months and months of sore muscles, sweat, and the occasional injury, you were convinced that Maki was incapable of feeling pity or remorse for other living things. Every time you speculated about quitting, she’d set a fire under you, unafraid to remind you how weak you still were.

The green-haired sorcerer had ultimately decided that you worked best dual-armed -- a long, lightweight blade in each hand. On your final day of training, she officially gifted the two swords to you, as a “graduation” gift.

Skill-wise, you were by no means as incredible Maki, but you definitely held your own, and the progress you’d made in a mere 8 months was astronomical. They’d introduced you to a strange silver-haired man at some point, Gojo, who had taken not only an interest in you but also your plot against your ex-boyfriend. He cackled to himself when you told him why you were here, going on and on about how priceless Megumi’s face would be when he saw you.

Your appearance was highly anticipated, so why not debut at one of the biggest jujutsu events all year? The Kyoto Sister School Goodwill Event — Gojo thought it was the most perfect idea.

You tried hard to exude confidence as you walked at Nobara and Maki’s sides, but behind your arrogant facade your stomach was twisting itself into knots. Truthfully, you were scared to see Megumi again after so long.

And when your eyes met with his as you walked into the meeting room, you thought you just might pass out. You thought you were ready for this — but the look of complete shock, fear, and anger on his face as he looked you up and down almost made you regret all of it.

“What’s going on?” Megumi’s words were incredibly calculated, an edge on his voice.

His question was pointless, however, because judging by the fact that you were wearing a jujutsu tech uniform and had two swords sheathed at your sides could only mean one thing. Your hair was longer now too, and your frame was wider with an extra layer of muscle from all the training — you almost looked like a different person.

“I’ve been training with Maki, I-,” You spoke up to explain yourself, but you weren’t even granted the opportunity.

“No, no, Maki, what the hell did you do?” His eyes were shaky and laced with concern.

“I only did what she asked me to. I’m not the one who gave her a complex about being weak, you did that,” Maki shrugged, “and she’s not your girlfriend anymore dude, what do you care?”

Absolute confliction flashed through his eyes, uncertainty and madness swirling in his irises, “You’re right, I don’t care. Let me know when the event is starting”.

He took a sharp turn out of the room and let the door slam a little too hard behind him. The sound of his icey voice and the door shutting with unkind force was all too reminiscent of the night you broke up. Burying every emotion you had deep into your stomach you gave Maki a small, reassuring smile and plopped down on one of the couches.

“Alright, so when does this thing start?”

after the start of the event

Fighting the Kyoto students was proving to be much harder than you initially expected, but you were holding your own at Maki’s side. The two of you had easily taken down a small, kind, blue haired girl named Miwa, and now you were watching an emotional battle between Maki and her sister unfold.

Wait here, she’d told you, I want to do this one myself. Take some notes on my form and watch our backs, okay?

Okay, you’d said, a little confused but ultimately finding a nice spot up in a thick tree to carefully observe from. Maki was truly a force of nature, and it seemed like the other girl never actually had a chance of winning. It was honestly only a few minutes before the small black, haired girl was slumped against a tree and Maki was making her way back to you. Things were looking good, two of Kyoto’s student’s were down already and adrenaline was pumping through your veins.

You couldn't quite shake the awful feeling churning in your stomach though, and Megumi’s face was haunting your thoughts. You hadn’t seen him since before the event started, when an odd, pink haired boy jumped out of a box and freaked everyone out. Nobara had later explained who he was and what had happened, and you wondered how many awful surprises Gojo had planned today -- first you, then that.

A small rumble rippled under your feet, and Maki grabbed your arm as you watched a giant brown vine lurch it’s way out of the ground a few hundred yards in the distance.

“That technique doesn’t belong to anyone from Kyoto,” She shot you a look of concern and determination, “let’s go check it out”.

You gave her a firm nod, the two of you making your way towards the horrifying wooden vines. By the time you managed to arrive, Inumaki was already down and so was a dark-haired boy from Kyoto. A muscular, white curse with black markings and wooden branches for eyes was moments away from taking Megumi on all by himself — thank god you got here in time to help.

Megumi, however, was horrified when he saw you jump over the tall roofed building with Maki at your side. He’d just watched two incredible sorcerers get their shit rocked by this curse, there was no way you would stand a chance against this thing. But before he could even try to stop you, you and the green-haired sorcerer were flying through the air and taking shots at the curse. The two of you worked perfectly in sync, the months of daily training finally paying off.

He watched with intent glazed over his eyes, his heart threatening to lurch up his throat. You were a spectacle, and he always thought you were beautiful but seeing you now with dirt and blood stained clothes, cursed weapons gripped firmly in your hands, you truly were ethereal. He hated it though, he hated that he was falling in love with you all over again, especially under these circumstances. Guilt and anxiety was eating away at him — why did you have to get involved? Why couldn’t you have just stayed away like he told you to?

He was quick to join the two of you, sticking close to your side to protect you if need be — but, even with all three of you together the curse still had the upper hand. Maki had been swatted to the side, her back slamming hard against one of the tiled roofs and knocking her unconscious. It was down to just the two of you now, beads of sweat causing your hair to uncomfortably stick to the back of your neck. This was something that Maki’s training could have never prepared you for.

Megumi was getting tired, taking one wrong step and losing his footing momentarily. The curse saw this as a perfect window of opportunity, sending a spiral of vines and branches hurling for Megumi. It was fast, but the adrenaline coursing through you helped you to move faster, launching yourself through the air and intercepting the attack. The barky, wooden vines twisted violently through your stomach, shooting clean through your back and ripping a violent scream from your throat.

It hurt so bad, feeling the plant wriggle through your organs and tear you apart from the inside out. The curse retracted his vine a few moments later, leaving your mangled body to fall helplessly to the roof. Tears rippled from your eyes, your body shaking and seizing as you coughed up a few sprays of blood.

A long, strong pair of arms scooped you up instantaneously, and your head was resting against a firm chest — probably Megumi, but you didn’t quite have the energy to open your eyes to check.

“We’ll take it from here, get her to Ieiri!” You heard a pair of deep voices yelling to Megumi, but it was too foggy and far away for you to understand what they were saying.

Megumi was seething with anger, moving as fast as his feet could carry him and he ran through the school. As you waved in and out of consciousness, you batted open your eyes, stealing quick glances at his twisted features and — were those tears on his face?

“I- I’m sorry Megumi… I think I finally understand what you were so afraid of all this time,” Your voice was barely a croak, “when I saw it coming, I couldn’t stomach the thought of having to watch you die. I suddenly just thought I would do anything to keep you safe”.

Yeah, those were definitely tears, you could see them a little clearer now. His eyes were red and his cheeks were dried with salty streaks.

“You’re so thick-headed,” he mumbled, his grip around you tightening slightly as he picked up his pace, “I wish you would have made that realization before there was a giant hole in your stomach”.

“Me too,” You hummed, but you weren’t really in any pain anymore. The pain had subdued to a sweet warm sensation inside your stomach, and an intoxicating sleepiness was washing over your head, “I was angry for a long time, but I’m not mad at you anymore, Gumi. I hope you can forgive me too”.

You offered him a tiny smile, but the blood leaking from between you keeps made it anything but sweet.

“There’s nothing to forgive you for, you never did anything wrong,” He spoke quickly, his voice quiet and cracking.

“No, but we’re not gonna make it to Ieiri, I know that and so do you,” You fell into a violent fit of coughs again, sputtering red splatters all over the front of his uniform.

“Shut up”.

“It’s not your fault, none of it was ever your fault,” you choked out once the fit of coughs subsided — and you weren’t just talking about yourself, you were talking about all of the unfortunate tragedies he’d witnessed throughout this life.

“And you’re allowed to be selfish sometimes, you know? I hope that when you meet someone, your soulmate even, you can allow yourself to love them with every part of you”.

The words painfully left your lips, but you meant every single one of them. You were starting to realize that you and Megumi were never meant to make it to the end. You weren’t his soulmate, you were here to help him grow, so that when he did finally meet them he’d be ready.

“You deserve to be loved, Megumi,” You looked up at him with big eyes, but his face was starting to get really fuzzy now.

Your fingers were going numb and your mouth felt like it was filled with sand. You were so tired, letting your eyes flutter shut and your head rest softly against Megumi’s chest. You felt him stop running, you could even hear him screaming at you — but it was too far away for you to hear. You drifted closer and closer to eternal sleep, your soul swollen with love for the boy who broke your heart.

Megumi didn’t even feel sad when you stopped breathing in his arms — he just felt hollow. More empty and broken than he’d ever thought possible. You were the most incredible person he’d ever met — someone with extreme motivation, who acted with no fear or hesitation, who always had love to give, even when he didn’t deserve it. He’d never forget you, not for as long as he’d live anyway.

Even when he did meet a new girl a few years later — a compassionate, brave girl, who reminded him a lot of you — he wouldn’t forget. He wouldn’t forget your words and for the first time in his life he’d let his walls down for her. He’d allow himself to truly love, and be loved in return.

And maybe you were right, maybe he did deserve to be loved like this, because god, he finally feels whole again when she’s around. He just wishes you were still here so he could say thank you.