#if it pops back off AGAIN I have a backup plan

[cantankerouscatfish]

I epoxied a crescent-shaped pin back together at work today. the epoxy takes an hour or two to actually set solid.

one of the florists wondered what I was gluing. I waved her over to the pin and said, 'it needs to sit for a while because the moon is. the. the moon is setting.' and she very nearly hit me. that's fair.

[kimarii-00]

Regrets and Punishments (2)

❥Summary: Armando knows he made a mistake. He knew when he decided that his mother was more important than his girlfriend. But he planned to return to her, he really did. He never could’ve anticipated being gone for as long as he was. Seeing her face again was like getting shot: You get that adrenaline rush, yet the pain ends up biting you in the ass later on. Especially when he discovers what, or dare I say, who he also left behind all that time ago.

❥Warnings: Slow burn, kidnapping, language, guns/shooting, blood, violence, suggestive scenes (?), eventual happy ending

❥Word Count: 4.8k (2k words more than the last one ;))

❥Part 2/2

PART 1

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AN: I did not expect all the support for the first part, thank you guys!! I hope this last part was worth all the hype! Enjoy!!

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“(Name),” Kelly begins, “I’m so sorry I–”

“What the hell do they even want with her? She’s a fucking child. Four! Four fucking years old,” As angry as you were right now, you couldn’t stop the tears from flowing, “I can’t… What if they hurt my baby?”

“They’re probably going to use her as some sort of backup in case their plan with Mike’s wife goes south…”

In all honesty, you think you had a hunch on why they took Demi. Because he’s her father… They must’ve done their research…

You’re surprised Armando hasn’t pressed you more by now about Demi. He must’ve had questions because last time he checked, you didn’t have a kid, so from his perspective, in the years he was gone you either must’ve hooked up with some guy and had his kid, or the passionate night you two shared before he left must’ve really paid off…

“(Name) I swear, we’re not going to let anything happen to Demi,” Kelly said in an attempt to sooth your motherly insticts. You felt nausious but you appreciated that you weren’t in this alone. Kelly had always been there for you, especially when the father of your child left and you found out you were pregnant with his kid a week later. She was there for you when nobody was. She had helped you through depressive episodes so you wouldn’t stress yourself and end up hurting the baby, she was there for you when you went into labor and had to be rushed to the hospital. She was there when the loud cries filled the room when the doctors popped Demi out of you.

Thinking of this only made you angrier, because it was wrong that you had to rely so much on your best friend instead of the man that was supposed to be Demi’s father, and now, because of his involvements with these people, your daughter has been taken. She has nothing to do with this.

You wipe your face, trying to get the tears to stop falling but they just wouldn’t. Out of the corner of your eye, you catch Armando looking at you with an expression that you can’t read but when he notices that you’ve seen his antics, he averts his attention elsewhere. You can’t help but think that he wants to say something to you, but you can’t bring yourself to care in this moment.

As much as you’d like to deny it, deep down you still have feelings for that man. But there are many reasons as to why you can’t just happily jump back into his arms and ask him to take you back.

Right now, you have more than yourself to worry about. You have Demi, and if you were going to get with a man, she deserves to have someone that will care and love her and right now, you aren’t sure that man could be Armando.

You aren’t paying much attention to the group as they talk about a plan to get the hostages back, you aren’t in your right mind and it seems everybody notices that. All you can think about is your little girl.

Mike looks at his son, and even though they don’t have the deepest relationship, he can tell that the boy is worried for you. He still isn’t entirely sure what you and him are to each other, but he can definitely tell that seeing you as broken as you are now is breaking something in Armando himself. He makes his way to Armando’s side and slightly nudges his side to get his attention.

“Go talk to her,” he says, gesturing to the grieving woman, “You two clearly have things to discuss, you better get it out of the way before we start making moves.”

“She doesn’t want to talk to me,” Armando grumbles, his eyes wandering to your person for what felt like the hundreth time in the last ten minutes.

“You never know until you try–”

“I did try, she told me to get the hell away from her.”

“Listen man, I don’t know what your relationship is with her, but what I do know is that if you don’t talk to her now, you might not get another chance to.”

Armando takes in his fathers words, contemplating his options and realizing that he really only has two: Not talk to you and then potentially die before he gets the chance to, or two, talk to you know and list the weight thats been on his chest ever since he saw you walk through that front door.

He decides that he would probably come to regret picking the latter, but his feet are gliding him toward where you sat with Kelly before he could find some excuse as to why he should wait until later to have this inevitable conversation.

You don’t seem to notice him until he’s standing before you, yet you don’t lift your head. Kelly does, however, and gives him a certain look that read, “If you hurt her more than she’s already hurting, I swear I’ll kill you”. He nodded to her, and she hesitantly nodded back. She rubbed your back in a comforting way one last time before standing up and walking toward the rest of the group. Armando took her place next to you.

He doesn’t say a word. Neither do you. It’s a mix of awkward and comfortable silence between you two before you break it by suddenly speaking up.

“She’s yours,” You say without warning. You decided that you’d rip the band-aid off and quell any thoughts about you hooking up with some other guy that he might’ve had, “Her name is Demi. She’s four… She’s yours.”

“...I had a feeling,” He starts, “I’m sorry.”

You don’t say anything and wait for him to expand. You wait for his to say anything to help you understand why he left you. Why he abandoned you and your unborn child. But he says nothing.

You sigh, “Why’d you do it?” You sounded tired. You didn’t want to argue. You just wanted him to help you understand his decision all those years ago.

“I got caught up in some shit. Fucked with the wrong people.”

“Yeah no shit,” You spit out.

Silence overtakes you both once again.

“You didn’t even leave a text,” You say quietly, “Y’know I waited for you. I waited, and waited, and waited, and then waited some more, yet you never came home. Never.”

Up until this point your head had been in your hands, trying to soothe your pounding headache, but now your gaze laid on his face, making direct eye contact. You let him see your stinging red eyes from all the crying you’ve been doing.

“I didn’t want to involve you in my shit. I didn’t want you to end up hurt because of me–” He begins, but you don’t take any of that bullshit.

“Yeah? Well I’m involved now, and guess who’s paying the fucking price? My– our child.”

This shuts him up. He doesn’t have anything to say to that, other than, “I’m sorry.”

You scoff. Is that all he can offer you? After all he’s put you through?

“Was it even real?” You ask on a whim.

“What?” He questions.

“Us. Was it real? Since you found it so easy to just up and leave some random day?”

“You think that shit was easy?” He snaps, “I loved you– I love you so much, so how the hell could you say that me leaving you was fuckin’ easy?”

You flinched at the correction from loved to love, “You sure as hell made it seem that way.”

He startled you by grabbing your shoulders tightly. He turned you so you looked at him fully, eye contact as intense as ever.

“I had to damn near fight myself to not turn back and run into your arms again after I left you. I thought about you every fuckin’ day that I wasn’t around you. If I could go back, I swear I would’ve told my mother to fuck off if it meant that I could stay with you… with our child. But at the time I was a fucking idiot and I thought–” He had to stop his rambling for a moment to take a breath. You stared at him with wide eyes, he was never one to go on tangents like this, and you made no effort to stop him. “I thought that leaving was the best decision for you, for us, at the time and I planned on coming back. I really did. But everytime I even thought it was okay to return more shit kept happening and I just– I didn’t want you involved.”

You let him trail on with his words as you found comfort in his somewhat desperate hold in your shoulders.

“I never meant to hurt you the way I did.” Armando concluded.

You avert your eyes down slightly, breaking the eye contact but he puts his finger under your chin to lift it back up. He doesn’t want you avoiding this conversation.

He isn’t sure what possessed him to lean down, shortening the distance between the two of you until there was nothing but a pocket of air seperating his lips from yours, but as he’s about to take the final step, you pull away slowly.

“I-I’m sorry, I just…” You begin, unsure of what excuse your about to pull, “I can’t.” You say, deciding not to beat around the bush.

He nods in understanding, yet you immediately recognize the hurt in his eyes.

You pull away from his hands on your shoulders and he makes no move to stop you. You take a deep breath in, like you want to say something else before you part ways, but ultimately decide against it.

You say nothing as you walk back to the group, leaving him standing motionless behind you.

“As far as they know, Lockwood is on his way with a plane to move the hostages to Cuba,” Mike spoke, going over the plan once more. Today was the day you took action to rescue the people that were kidnapped. Mike’s wife, the girl that was with her at the time– Callie, and…Demi. God… I swear if they did something to her�� “The second they get close to the plane with the hostages, it’s quick kills. Neutralize all threats. These motherfuckers killed a lot of good cops. They have my wife, they have Callie, and they have (Name)’s daughter.” You lowered your eyes at the aknowledgement.

“They attacked our families. We not losing today.” He concludes, and everyone nods their head.

You were partnered with the tech team in the van, watching the situation from drone footage. You wanted to be on the front lines to get rid of every fucker who thought taking your daughter was a good idea, but you were stuck inside of the van until extra help was needed.

You hear the helicopter pilot through your comms device in your ear, “I got one looking out the front door, right side, I got one sniper on the roof of building two.”

“T those up,” Rita says, who ended up joining the cause after realizing the man she was dating was with the enemy. You quickly code in a few commands for the drone to follow and before long you have eyes on the two mentioned. “Everybody keep moving. What are those?”

She points to the objects presented in the live map of the area, and you answer, “Gaters.”

“I thought it was an abandoned theater park?”

“Abandoned by humans,” Kelly jumps in while loading her gun.

You manage to find the parks webpage from when it was open and discover that the main attraction was an albano aligator named “Duke”. It was sixteen feet long, and there are stories about him still being there to this day.

“Well fuck that…” You mutter.

You watch from the drone as the main team lands in the water as planned, getting into position.

“Armando’s at his QTH,” Dorn confirms, letting everyone know that he’s in position. You swallow the lump in your throat.

Lockwood steps out of the helicopter and walks on the dock, waiting for them to bring out the hostages. You hold your breath and watch closely.

“Hostages are coming out now,” Dorn says. Your eyes dart across the screen, looking for your daughter in particular before spotting her in the arms of a muscular man. They walked behind the other two that were kidnapped and you can barely contain yourself when you take in the terrified look on your four year olds’ face.

“Fuck…” You choke out under your breath. Kelly hears this and rubs circles into your back for comfort. You put your hands over your mouth in a prayer like position and keep watching through the drones.

“Everybody stay calm,” Rita says.

The plan was for Mike to take out their leader as soon as he had the chance to, which was why he was on the front lines, yet when you notice no movement from his end, you begin to become worried that something has gone wrong.

“Mike?” Rita blurts, “Mike do you have the shot?”

“Negative, I do not have a shot, I do not have a shot,” he says into the comms device. Your eyebrows furrow as you look from a perspective of a drone that flew near where the helicopter had landed, and you conclude that from where Mike was posted, he should’ve had a clear shot.

A moment goes by and the kidnappers walk with the hostages, but just a little ways before they reach Lockwood, they stop on the bridge.

“They stopped, why’d they stop?” Dorn hurridly says. The drone is able to catch the sight of something slowly moving through the water and you conclude that it’s what they are looking at as well, you watch as their leader follows whatever is moving and your heart sinks when you realize what the thing in the water is moving towards.

“Armando–” You start, but he seems to have noticed it as well.

“Shit.” He says.

One man signals for the soldiers around him to start a search, suddenly becoming suspicious of where the thing in the water was going, and who it may be targeting. “Armando they’re closing in on you.” Dorn states.

“Do they see him?” Rita asks.

“I don’t know.”

Rita takes the time that they are distracted to pressure Mike, surely he has a shot now, right? “Mike, now! Your chance is now, they can see him, they know we’re here!”

“I don’t have it, negative, negative.”

“You’ve got to take the fucking shot,” Armando mumbles out, keeping his eye on the thing slowly advancing toward him in the water, and the person that was getting dangerously close to his hiding spot above.

You watch as all hell breaks loose when Armando shoots the man who semed to have spotted him, and he falls into the water only to be finished off by the thing in the water, now identified to be the ledgendary sixteen foot long gator. You don’t think you’ve ever been as scared as you had been the moment you realize they know they’ve been set up, and they start taking the hostages back into the building. Your daughter begins to cry and it breaks your heart.

“Engage!” Rita shouts through the comms, “Kelly, get us there.”

You leave your chair and move to the front of the van along with Kelly as she steps on the gas. You take the time to reload your own gun, and slip a knife in your boot for emergencies.

By the time the four of you have arrived, the fight has moved inside. Rita orders you three to go inside and she states that she’ll go after Lockwood and you don’t have to be told twice before you’re rushing in there. You hear Kelly shouting your name behind you, trying to get you to slow down as you leave them in the dust, but all you can hear is the blood rushing in your ears, desperate to find your daughter. You arrive just in time to see the man who was holding onto your daughter walk up a flight of stairs and you waste no time following after, shooting whoever was in your way.

The path splits into three once you reach the top and you pick a random path, slowly walking into the room.

You make sure the room is clear, making sure there is no one in it before you turn around, only to be smacked in the face with the butt of a gun. You stumble and fall, and make eye contact with the man who took you by surprise. You see him aiming at you, but with no intention to die before you find your daughter, you regain your balance and sweep his leg and quickly make your way on top of him. You snatch the knife out of your boot and put it to his neck, “Where is the child?” You hiss out, “I swear I’ll fucking kill you, where is she?” You barked when he took too long to answer for your liking.

“I don’t know what your talking about–” You decide you don’t have time for this bullshit, and jab him in the stomach with the knife. He lets out a cry of pain and he finds the cool metal of the knife back on the skin of his neck with a noticable change of pressure this time around. He was sure it would cut into the skin at any moment, “Okay, okay! Last I heard she was on the top floor.”

“Fuck,” You say, realizing that there were more floors than you realized. You don’t say another word before puncturing the side of his neck, quickly ending him. You get up, ready to leave the room but you’re grabbed from behind and choked. You grip the arm that wraps around your neck and stab your already bloodied knife into it, releasing yourself from the headlock. Even though the man who’d attacked you had been stabbed he was relentless. He ran at you again, landing a punch into your stomach and you got a few hits in yourself. You smash his head against a wall which either kills or knocks him out, and you can’t bring yourself to care as you see more men rush into the room.

You dance around them, getting in hits and taking some as well and you whip out your gun. You wanted to preserve bullets but you were getting overwhelemed by the amount of people that were flowing into the room. You shoot a few with amazing accuracy.

You hear a grunt behind you and before you can turn around, you are hit in the head with the butt of another gun again. You groan, the pain of your injuries starting to show through the adrenaline and the man behind you grabs you by your hair and pulls you up before wraping his own arm around your neck. You close one eye in pain and watch as one man walks to you, aiming his gun.

Before he can shoot, there is another shot that interrupts their plan and it ends up hitting the man behind you. Now free from his hold, you make use of the distraction and kick the man in front of you in the gut, causing him to double over. You knee him in the face and snatch his gun, shooting him in the face.

You look at your savior, and your eyes widen as you realize who it was. Armando…

“You good?” He asks. You nod, and he joins you at your side to finish off the remaining of the enemy, but before any of you can make a move, a helicopter comes smashing through the window, instantly killing two of the guys. You’re right in the path of the helicopter, and you see out of the corner of your eye Armando running towards you. He grabs onto you and you both fly out of the way. He manuvers both of your bodies until he’s the one to take most of the impact once you land.

Once all the chaos settles, you both stand up. You look at him, his hands still embracing you protectively, “Are you okay?”

You don’t answer him and continue to stare into his eyes. Those eyes you’ve known for so long. You don’t know what could’ve possessed you to do this, but you feel as if it’s the only thing you could do in the moment. With haste, you push your lips against his.

You can feel his surprise in your sudden action. You bring your hands up and grip his vest for stability and you feel the moment where he begins to reciprocate. Your mouths move together in a practiced motion and you wonder how he’s still such a good kisser after all these years.

The kiss quickly becomes heated, hurried. He slips his tongue into your mouth and you let him, moving the muscles together, competing for dominance. You groan into his mouth.

He then begins to walk forward, and you walk backwards slowly until your back makes contact with the wall behind you and he cages you in, his lips never leaving yours. Tongue never unlocking with your own. One hand is connected to the wall and the other to your hip as he brings you impossibly closer. You bask in the moment.

You break the kiss first, needing air, and his lips search for yours again instantly when you do. Your mind begins to cloud, but you remember why you’re here in the first place. You need to find your daughter. Even knowing this, you find it hard to pull away from the sensation that is his lips against your own, but somehow you find it in you to put your hands on his chest and gently push him away. He looks down at you in question.

“Can…can we continue… after I find my daughter?” You breathe heavily, still breathless from the passionate moment you shared.

“Yeah… okay. I’m coming with you.” Your eyes shot up at him at the statement. You nod at him and he hesitantly releases you from his hold. Desperate to rid yourself of the tension left in your lower area due to the kiss, you walk away, recalling what the man said about another floor.

Armando follows closely behind you.

You eventually find the staircase that would lead you to the top floor, and of course, awaiting you were more of the enemy. With Armando by your side, you make quick work of them and once all that were left were bodies, you begin to search the room. It was the only room on the top floor, so unless that guy was lying to you, Demi must be here.

So where the hell is she?

There is no sign of her being here. You check behind boxes, inside cabinets, everywhere. Your breathing quickly grows rapid as you realize that your daughter is nowhere in sight. If she’s not here, then where the hell could she be? The rest of your team was in the lower areas on the building, and if one of them found her, surely they would’ve announced it over the comms, right? So where the hell is your daughter?

You feel a hand on your back, “Hey, hey, you’re fine. We’ll find her, okay?” Armando says.

You realize you can’t waste time, so you nod and recollect yourself. But that doesn’t change the fact that you have no clue where she could be if not here.

“Look,” Armando states once your breathing had slowed, he points to the left where there seemed to be a door to a balcony of sorts.

You take a deep breath and follow him, as he already started making his way toward it.

He kicks open the door, gun aimed at the figure that stood at the edge of the balcony and your heart dropped. In front of you stood your little girl, and a man that took his place on the ledge of what had to be a long ass drop. You feared the worst and your gun shoot in your hands.

“Put the guns down!” The man demanded, “Right now or I promise you I’ll jump, and take her ass with me!” He says. He emphasizes his words by gripping your daughter tighter and holding his gun to her head, then back at the two of you.

Your daughter is bawling her eyes out. You aren’t even sure if he noticed that you were there for her. She was scared out of your mind. “Demi–”

“Shut up, and put your fucking guns down!” The man demanded. You listen this time, which prompted Armando to do the same. You cursed to yourself, realizing what little power you have in this situation. “I want you two to slowly walk back out that door.”

“We can’t do that,” Armando states, his hands rising in the air after he dropped his gun to show he’s not a threat.

“Fucking do it!” The man boasted. You aren’t sure what your options are, if there were any. You look to Armando, and he seems to sense your eyes on the back of his head.

He then looks at you a certain way, and mouths to you, “Trust me.”

Your eyes widen and you let out a yelp in surprise when Armando takes off running toward the man and your daughter. This takes the man by surprise too, before he makes no effort to pull the trigger and only seems to panick at the incoming threat. He doesn’t get a chance to retaliate before Armando uses his shoulder and back to swiftly steal your daughter from the mans grip, all the while using force to push him off of the balcony.

You watch as Armando sinks to his knees with your daughter, gently combing her hair with his fingers and whispering in her ear words of comfort. She grips onto him tightly and cries into his police vest. It takes you a moment to realize that she is safe. Something about Armando holding your daughter in his arms and caring for her makes you realize and think about some things that you haven’t thought to think about before, but you put that all of the back burner in favor of finally holding Demi in your arms again.

“Baby…” You whisper, almost in disbelief that she really is safe and sound. Demi registers your voice in her little head and whips it around to face you.

“Mama!!” She cries, she leaves Armando’s hold and you drop to your knees to give her the biggest, tightest hug you can. You sniffle and pull her head into your neck.

“Are you okay Mimi? Let me look at you…” You say, pulling away from her to check her from any kind of injury. She shakes her head, you take in the sight of her red eyes from all the crying she’s been doing.

“Mama is hurt…” She mumbles. You move your hand to the various areas that Demi points at and notice that you are indeed hurt in many areas, but you don’t care. Not right now.

“I am… But it’s okay, mama’s strong, just like you baby. God, I love you so much,” You say, planting a long, wet kiss on her forehead and hug her again tightly.

“I love you too, mama,” Demi says into your neck. You look at Armando as you hug Demi, and you mouth a quick “Thank you.” He nods to you, watching the interaction.

The moment is interrupted by Mike on the comms, “Armando, come in Armando.”

“What’s up?” Armando replies.

“You need to get out of here, Judy’s here and is looking for you. Take the boat and get the hell out of here.”

Armando hesitates, looking at you and your daughter… his daughter. Whatever he’s contemplating seems like he’s making a hard decision in his mind, but luckily for him, you’ve already made up yours.

“We’ll come with you.” You state.

“What? No–”

“It wasn’t a question.”

Silence overtakes you, but you don’t let it linger for too long, “Don’t push us away again.”

This looks to have convinced him, as he takes a deep breath and nods. “Okay.”

You don’t know how the future will go for you three. You dread the predestined talk with your daughter that you’re going to have to have with her to tell her that this man is really her father, but all you know is that as your walking through that building, your daughter being carried by him and her hooked onto her neck for safety and comfort, you feel as if you have good things coming.

And so you let yourself crack a genuine smile, one that you felt hasn’t shown itself since the night that he left you.

And he reciprocates the same one. One you haven’t seen in years, and one you’re sure to see in many more to come.

TAGLIST: (if you didn’t get tagged, it’s probably due to settings!)

@dasaniswrlddd @thedarkworldofhananerea @taylormcguire282 @timebomb1101 @5arlan7 @desiiiisworld @babygurl030 @lovelyme22 @Leavemealing @lewispool @yeahnohoneybye @velocitynyoom @maybepersuasivetom @deadpool15

[therrerium-valkryonia]

Mika and her husband has a huge birth fetish. They arrange some sort of game to enjoy the birth and labor. The game separated into 3 phase

Phase 1

when in labor, Mika stuck a dildo in he vagina through her birth canal. Then put on tight underwear and yoga pants (this will important later). Her husband drove them to the remote cabin that so far from their house. Now the game really start. After got into the cabin. Her husband will do what ever to Mika body. After some begging her husband take off the yoga pants. Some times later take off the dildo

Phase 2

After take off the dildo, her husband will leave for some times (not for short) and instruct Mika to do not push yet. Mika triying to hold the push but her body didn't listen. She can feel the baby going down,and after some times the head is full crowning. But after some hard push the baby keeping slide back because there is still underwear blocking the baby

Phase 3

"I thought I say don't push" Say her husband walk in while Mika begging. "Now I need to punished bad girl" As he positioned himself at the front of Mika. With his hard as iron cock push the baby back in so deep.

Her husband said if Mika can make her husband cum, he can push for 30 minute. If the baby not born yet, her husband will push the baby back in with his cock.

If mika cum first, her husband can make himself cum 1-3 time with your body

This goes on for some round. Majority of time Mika cum first, but some times her husband cum first

This is a very well fleshed out concept, I like it but do please fix the grammar it really hurts to read, take your time it's okay. Thanks still.

Let's Play A Game

tw: 18+ Minors DNI

Mika & John we're a very intimate couple, they we're close and been expecting an arrival of twins any moment though each had a broad imagination with intense fantasies within their similar urges, yet very opposing.

Mika's fantasies we're far more modest to John's who'd be much more intense with his ravenous thoughts, this really worried her and she told him to tone it down for this very special occasion for the twins safety, yet it seemed he did not listen and she called up a backup in case.

Mika was in consistent discomfort and aches since the day until midnight and afternoon, John was in his room working as she wanted to have fun and rode on her clear dildo as hot, sexy and vigorously as possible, loudly moaning and getting louder and harder until reaching her peak then popping out an intense flush of fluid as she grunts with visible aches.

John overheard, got up and prepared what they'd planned out, she stood up slowly and went to take the dildo off the bed and pushed it back in again, held it in and grabbed her tight panties and uncomfortably pushed it in further with yoga pants, increasing the incredibly hardened cramps & powerful contractions but managed to barely hold up.

For her comfort, he brought a pantyhose for her to put on later when he'd watch her struggle through cloth as they agreed to per promise, she got off the bed and slowly got over to their car with her hand on her back for support & cradling the huge mass constantly aching per agreement.

She got in the backseat, sat down and sneered as she told him "fuck you." he tilted his head and began the engines then driving off in the forest towards the cabin they made.

Mika heaved, she swayed off her hair and leaned back into the cushions, holding onto her contracting womb hoping this would end soon as she rubbed her bump searching to any sort of comfort or soothe to the intense pain building.

Once they reached the cabin, she waddled out the car and he unlocked the empty place and brought her in as she got on her knees and he pulled off her yoga pants for pantyhose over the tight panties for some release or comfort, then he went back and forth to grabbing supplies.

Before he went out to grab the supplies for they planned on, she felt him press on her panties causing her to shriek and heave, shifting over with a lean as he spoke cynically "Don't you dare push until I come back, 'kay and hold on." pulling her pantyhose and tugged onto the dildo and pulling it out.

She wailed, bent over with her golden-red hair draping over with deep sharp inhales, cradling onto her bump with soft grip as she shouts "WATCH IT! Ouuufffhhh! I'm having the twins here so please... egrhhhh, BE CAREFUL!" as he goes with shrugged shoulders and grabbing supplies.

Inhaling sharply and frequently as she massages her bump trying her best not to push, though she felt a pain radiate throughout her abdomen with the first of the twins going down her canal slowly, burning it's way through then with aches and cramps around her back.

As it stopped in the middle of the canal, she inhales tried clamping it in but lacking any success as it slowly moves down with stuttered progress, meeting her lips and pulls them apart and stretching her out further and further.

Her husband wasn't gone for long, he went back and forth and around the house for some other supplies as she tried resisting with all her might but the pain was too much for her to resist and she succumb as she silently bore down.

Pressing the round bump, placing her left fist atop her bump as she silently huffed and sharply inhaled with hard clench of her fists and closed teeth, exhaling with the pain as the head then pops out but then snaps back in from the tight panties.

Unable to resist longer, she began pushing more and harder against her tight panties as she rocked in a pendulum like motion, as the head locked in place from the tightness of the cloth as she pushed out the neck but it slips back inside.

The cycle repeats for ten minutes and her husband returns, with a cynical and sadistic tone spoke "I thought I said don't push yet? I guess you deserve a punishment for disobedient behavior" as he rips through her cloth and laid her down as he drops his pants and drives his snake against the head as Mika shrieks and begs "NO! W- AUGH! WAIT! NO PLEASE! WE DIDN'T AGREE TO THIS *COUGH* WAIT! STOP- NOO! UAAAAGGGHHHH!! JOHN PLEASE!".

The baby was set all the way back, she trembled in pain as he pulls out and she shrieks and huffs as he pressed his arm into her belly, she screams viciously as the baby shoots back to a crown but is painfully stopped by his fingers.

He describes his idea "If you cum before me, I fuck harder and longer and if you make me cum, you get only thirty minutes to push before I push it back in with my cock" an incredibly wide eyed expression rose out of Mika.

He begins to pound her as she grunts with rolling tears, her bump aches and begins to burn as she feels him rampage with her body and resists to try and cum and even through the burning pain, she tries to push but she shrieks with the thrust of his snake inside of her body.

But she fails and cums, he begins to flip her onto her back and begins to fill her up again as she screams from pain, a bruise begins cover her vagina from all the intense force.

Starting a timer on his phone as she groans, shifting down as the crown pops open to the head, she sobs with silence and bore down and pulled her legs up to her head as the shoulders inched out and within two minutes spewed out with the whole upper-body with twenty minutes on time.

Grunting weakly as she pushed her chin into her chest, the baby inched forward and burst out of her, she dropped her legs and placed the baby onto her chest where it laid as it took it's first breath and cry as she shushed it to sleep.

John positioned himself between her thighs and laid away the newborn, she stared fearfully as he pinned her arms & thrusts in as she huffs with open lips and weakly grunts in pain and extreme exshaustion, only able to twitch a finger.

This time she secretly bears down while he thrusts, pursing her lips and taking sharp inhales as she's wracked in hellish contractions and succumbs to the pain, opening her gape and gasps out in worse pain with her attempt to push.

She felt herself ejaculate and he pinned her against the wall and wrapped her arms around her back, thrusting her down onto his thick dick as she hisses and gasps with the burning rising and falling while she visibly aches, her bump turned to a smoothened stone, she faced the ceiling and bore down.

The head moved back and forth inside her as he squeezed into her canal, she felt the pressure push back but it moved forward, she felt her birth reflex kick in as she no longer was pushing but trying to catch her breath as he put her down & she rolled to her side, her crown widened as he left for a bath as she grunted silently, her lips spread to their limit.

Bruised and swollen, she seemed to be bleeding as the head bursts forth as she squeals like a pup with her canals spilling out and she cupped the head, searching for the cord while the other one still remained attached as she needed to push and placed her hands onto her bump, gulping down as she endured the pain without pushing from sheer exshaustion.

The shoulder propped up and burst out, the baby dangled whilst she held the upper-body and gently tugged the baby out of her while she moans softly, the twins we're out and the second born was breathing fine, she shuffled to get something to swaddle the twins in, she cradled both in her arms and cut off both cords as she pulled the placenta out.

There was a bit of soreness but no more pain, she awaited both to perk up and feed onto her breasts as her husband then comes in from his bath as she stares furiously as she calmly & weakly speaks "I *huff* wanna go home." as then they pack up and she's drive home as she rests for now.

The relationship is on thin ice, they had a divorce and she finds a lover more capable and caring than the last, as this time things go smoothly even in their roughest times.

[yokohamapound]

BSD Boys With a Nervous Flier S/O

For Amulet! <3

(I added Chuuya for me. :P)

Characters: Dazai Osamu, Fyodor Dostoevsky, Edogawa Ranpo, Nakahara Chuuya

Contents: NSFW jokes/references, fear of flying.

Dazai Osamu

Don’t bother trying to hide it. Dazai can pick up on every tiny little tell, so unless you’ve got the world’s best poker face, he’ll figure it out before you say a single word. It’s all there, the shrunken pupils when he shows you the tickets, wiping your sweaty palms on your pants when you’re booking the taxi to the airport, the harsh, unsteady breathing when you’re queueing to check in. 

For once, wisely, he drops the double suicide jokes. The last thing you need to think about right now is you or him dying, and he’s that much of an ass. Most of the time.

He wraps an arm around your shoulders, leaning in and whispering in your ear so it doesn’t carry to the other passengers in the boarding queue. “Guess what?”

You frown, distracted momentarily, and look at him. “What?”

His eyes glitter with mischief, and his smile widens into a full blown smirk. “You know how your ears sometimes pop when the cabin pressure changes? They say you should have chew gum or suck on candy.”

Your eyes narrow, suspicious. Dazai leans down to look into your eyes, grinning. 

“I don’t have any candy, but I’ve got something you can su—oww!”

He deserved to have his foot trodden on, really. Dazai might pout, but internally he’s smug that his plan to distract you worked. He’s got plenty more like that up his sleeve. 

Fyodor Dostoevsky

Flying with Fyodor is something different entirely. With the weight (and wallet) of the Decay of Angels behind him, he would never fly on a commercial airline. Normally he doesn’t care much - he’ll take a helicopter or some other type of solo plane. If he’s taking his precious myshka though, he’s flying in style. 

Naturally, he already knows about your fear of flying.

You can take comfort in the fact that Fyodor has literally already thought of everything. There are multiple contingency plans for any conceivable emergency onboard the jet. He has a backup helicopter. There are parachutes. There are backup parachutes. 

All you have to do is get dolled up and sit pretty on one of the luxurious recliner seats, being fed little tidbits of fruit and cake and sipping champagne. Fyodor has his laptop out, watching the endless screeds of incomprehensible information, one resting on your thigh, thumb tracing circles into your warm, soft skin. 

If you want a sedative, he’ll allow it, though his tone is subtly disapproving. He doesn’t like seeing you passed out (unless he’s been the one to drug you or exhaust you, naturally.) Still, if it makes you feel better.

He has…other methods to distract you however. Ones you’ll learn all about when he orders the cabin crew out of the main seating area and draws the curtains. You’ll be flying so high you might not even notice you’ve landed. 

Edogawa Ranpo

Ranpo has an easy solution to all your fears and anxieties—he’s such a baby that you have to look after him and you just won’t have time to worry about the plane going down, because you’ll be trying to convince him he can’t cram a whole gumball machine in his suitcase.

“It’ll fit!”

“You know it won’t! It’s physically impossible. You’re supposed to be a genius!”

“Well, I'm on vacation!”

He’s exuberant and excited to wander through Duty Free and buy all the varieties of chocolate and snacks they sell. Ranpo isn’t getting on that plane without snacks. Have you eaten plane food? That’s simply not going to cut it for the World’s Greatest Detective. 

It’s almost…calculated, the way he seems to rush off to a new thing every time your jitters start coming back. Your heart starts to race, your mouth goes dry, and then you notice Ranpo is gone from your side again. 

By the time you get onto the actual plane, you’re lowkey exhausted, and he still looks as smug as ever, his bag of chips rustling as he snacks in his seat. He opens his eyes, looks around the plane with that sharp, green gaze, then shrugs and settles against the backrest. 

“Nothing wrong with the plane, we’ll be fine,” he declares, tossing a chip into his mouth. “Do you think they have Ramune?”

Nakahara Chuuya

Chuuya is a well-travelled guy due to his position as a Port Mafia executive and enforcer. It seems as if he gets sent abroad now and then to look after the mafia’s foreign interests and contracts. Koyo seems to stay back more, acting as Mori’s advisor, so it’s Chuuya who racks up the airmiles. He generally travels first or business class, because he’s not about to be back in the cattle runs—sorry, economy. 

He’s so used to it by now that booking the flights, packing, and getting to the airport are a breeze. It’s so mundane to him that he’s a little surprised to find out how frightened you are. He has to admit, it’s kinda cute. 

He lounges next to you in your first class seats, a glass of wine in one hand and your hip in the other, cuddling you against his side. 

“Dollface, what’re you shakin’ for?” he teases, poking you in the ribs. “You forgettin’ who you’re flyin’ with?”

Oh. That’s right. Mr. Gravity Master himself. 

“So if something happens, you could stop the plane falling?” you ask, almost in disbelief. 

He scoffs. “What do you take me for? You’re gonna be on the safest flight in existence. They should be paying me to fly.”

[notiddygothgf]

1. Arrival in Tokyo

★ pairings: aki hayakawa x fem reader

★ ❝ Captain? Should I be calling you sir? ❞ ❝ Only if you want to. ❞

★ c.w.: aki being sexy a f (more content warnings and tags)

★ a/n: CHAPTER ONE IS UP AND RUNNINGGGGGG!! im so excited bc ive been sitting on this fanfic all fking summer like when i tell u i havent been able to focus on anything else. i have not known peace. ANYWAY im trying smth new w this story bc it was supposed to be a oneshot but uh... now its at 150 pages on google docs so erm... anyway! updates should flow quixker now that i have 90% of it written!! comment and let me know all of ur thoughts everywhere omg i love reading ur remarks bc u guys r so funny on my other ffs. ENJOY POOKIES! i love yall!!

★ w.c.; 4.3k

shameless ; chapter index

"SO YOU'RE LEAVING ME because the Tokyo division needs backup?" 

"I'm not leaving you," You sighed, though a playful lilt and a smirk followed your sarcastic remark. You and your husband were discussing work-related matters over a sushi dinner – your favorite. Perks of being married to your work partner. "I'm being summoned. I won't be long. Promise."

Your husband frowned, brows knitting together. His brown hair was tied back into a bun, baby hairs licking at his forehead, his cheeks. Tanimoto Yoshiro was a man of many virtues, but patience was not one of them. With a sigh, he began to toy with his salmon roll, prodding it with the end of his wooden chopsticks. "One whole week without that sexy ass of yours... What will I do?"

Your left eye twitched – slightly, hardly noticeable by the naked eye. You, for one, wouldn't miss the sex. It was, for lack of a better word... unfulfilling. It would get better over the years, you were sure of it. The two of you had only had the last few years to practice, after all. You wanted to wait until marriage (With him. You were no virgin by any stretch of the word.).

It was unfair of you to take your sexual frustrations out on him. It had been a tiring week for the both of you, is all. You barely had time for sit down meals like this anymore – whatever hanky-panky the two of you ever did indulge in these days was rushed, messy, and often... short lived.

Anyway, needless to say... You would be fine. It was you and your rabbit toy against the world, anyway.

"You'll be fine," You smiled. You loved him. He loved you. He was a great husband, and he took care of you. You had no reason to complain. "I'll be back before you know it." .

The Japanese countryside was a blur, rushing past the window of your train like pictures, like a movie. You hadn't noticed the train slow to a stop, in fact, until you heard the doors open. Popping your head up over the seat, you observed the train station. Which stop is this? People began filtering in from both sides, eager to find a seat before the train took off.

A shrill cry of your name roused you from your thoughts. 

You whipped your head around. A familiar-looking woman with black hair and an eyepatch was waving you down across the aisle. She was wearing a Public Safety suit and slacks. Himeno.

A smile crawled over your lips before you knew it. "Himeno?" You asked, a teasing lilt in your tone. "Is that you?"

Without asking if anyone else was sitting there, she took a seat in the one across from you. She leaned forward, perching her chin up on her hand. "Never thought I'd see you again. How the hell are 'ya?"

You and Himeno went way back. She had been in the same division as you back when the two of you were teens. She was the first person in Public Safety who had ever actually welcomed you to the division and the last person to say goodbye to you. You parted ways before ever being able to exchange information but, for what it was worth, she had made those gruesome, tedious missions more bearable. 

"I've been good!" You grinned. "I've been in the Kyoto sector with my partner. I truly did plan on coming back, but one thing led to another, and now..." You trailed off, waving your hands around like you were trying to find the right words. "Well, I'm married to him."

The train creaked and groaned before it began to move again. 

"So I've heard," Himeno licked her lips. She sat back in her chair, producing a carton of cigarettes – the kind she always used to smoke when the two of you were on missions together. "You mind if I smoke?"

No, but the conductor might. "Of course not," You answered. "How about you? How have you been?"

She sighed. "Been better, honestly. Devil activity's been crazy recently," Fishing a lighter out of her suit pocket, she sparked up. The end of her cigarette sizzled and smoked between her slim fingers. Holding it up to her lips, she muttered, "Just doing what I can to stay alive. What brings you back to the city?"

"My presence has been requested by the higher-ups," You shrugged. The scent of nicotine and smoke filled the cabin. It was gross but, frankly, familiar. "My husband wasn't too happy that he didn't get invited, so this better be worth it."

"I see," Himeno hummed, breathing out a puff of smoke to the side. She kept on looking out of the window after that, at the train station that was now far behind the train. "You're leaving your partner and I'm returning to mine."

"You're married?" You asked.

"God, no," She chuckled softly, pulling another hit from her cancer stick. "Wouldn't mind being with my assigned partner, though. He's a fine piece of ass."

It seemed like you couldn't help the way you burst into laughter at her crude remark. She hasn't changed one bit. "Is he cute?"

"Cute?" She repeated the word like it was a foreign object in her mouth. Her voice was muffled by the cloud of smoke that flowed out from between her lips. "He's drop-dead gorgeous," She took another slow, calculated hit. "Enough about me, though, how's the married life going for you?"

Could be better. You feigned a warm smile at the mention of your husband. "Good. Yeah, it's good."

Good was a bit of an overstatement. .

You and Himeno spent the rest of the train ride catching up. There was talk about marriage, sex, old coworkers, and new ones. It felt kind of good to be back – to be able to talk to someone who shared the same history as you. You would almost say that you missed it.

By the time the announced its next stop at the Tokyo station, you hadn't even realized how quickly the trip had gone by. You could thank your talkative companion for that. As the train finally eased to a stop, you turned to Himeno with a smile. 

"I need to grab my bags," you said, rising from your seat and straightening your clothes.

Himeno nodded, her smile warm but tinged with a hint of sadness. "Okay. Take care of yourself!"

Navigating the narrow aisle, you headed toward the luggage compartment. As you reached up to grab your suitcase, you collided with someone. Startled, you looked up to find yourself face-to-face with a man who immediately captured your attention. He was tall, easily over six feet, with broad shoulders and a powerful build that spoke of both strength and discipline. His dark hair was tied back in a neat topknot, accentuating his sharp, angular features. But it was his eyes that held you—their piercing blue depths seemed to look straight through you, filled with a seriousness that made you catch your breath.

"Sorry—" he began, his voice a deep, resonant baritone that vibrated through the narrow space.

For a moment, the world seemed to narrow down to just the two of you. The closeness of his body, the scent of his cologne—clean and subtly spiced, lingering just faintly on the collar of his suit jacket—the intense focus of his gaze; all of it created a bubble of tension that neither of you could ignore. You could see the flicker of surprise in his eyes, a momentary lapse in his serious demeanor, as if he too had been caught off guard.

Both of you paused. His gaze flickered down to your uniform for just a heartbeat before he quickly looked away, regaining his composure. Without another word, you continued in opposite directions, the silent exchange leaving you... well, a little breathless to say the least.

Stop it. You're a married woman. Surely, you would know how to control your impulses after being away from your husband for only a day.

Reaching up, you pulled your suitcase from the overhead compartment, the weight of it a familiar comfort. Setting it down on the ground with a soft thud, you turned back to your seat, only to find the handsome man still standing there, now engaged in conversation with Himeno. He was so tall that he had to actually lean over a little bit to fit into the cabin.

Fuck me. You thought. Wait, no, don't fuck me.

"Is this your partner, Himeno?" you asked, raising an eyebrow in curiosity.

"Yes, I found him!" Himeno responded with a wide grin. "Captain Hayakawa, this is an old friend of mine," she said, going on to introduce you by name.

"Hello," he greeted, extending his hand. The deep, velvety timbre of his voice sent a shiver down your spine.

"Captain? Should I be calling you 'sir'?" you teased lightly, shaking his hand – and his grip was firm and warm.

"Only if you want to," he replied, "Hayakawa is fine."

Only if you want to.

Get your fucking head out of the gutter.

Your heart skipped a beat as you found yourself momentarily lost in his gaze. His eyes were a captivating shade of blue, intense and unwavering. The handshake lingered a moment too long. You could feel the strength and warmth of his hand – it was far larger than yours, and had calluses at the tip of the palm.

Despite his serious demeanor, there was a flicker of something in his eyes, a hint of interest that he seemed determined to keep under control. Reluctantly, you pulled your hand away, feeling the lingering warmth of his touch. 

His gaze remained locked on yours for a moment longer, a silent acknowledgment of whatever the fuck had just happened.

Himeno cleared her throat, breaking the spell. "Well, let me give you a big hug, dearest."

You embraced her fondly, the familiarity of her touch grounding you. 

"Here, give me your number," Himeno said as she pulled back. She flipped her phone open. "Let's keep in touch."

With a smile, you told her your phone number. 

She snapped her phone shut after she had finished typing it in. "Okay! Hopefully, I'll get to see you around."

"Yes, of course! We'll be in touch," You agreed. You bowed your head to her, then to her partner. "Hayakawa."

He nodded back. You dismissed yourself after that, turning on your heel and practically scrambling to get out of that tiny train cabin. Still, you couldn't help but glance back at Captain Hayakawa. His eyes met yours again for a brief, fleeting moment before you turned away, heart racing with something you hadn't felt in a long time.

You didn't want to stick around and find out what it was. The weight of your wedding ring around your finger was a reminder of that much. .

You hadn't been in Public Safety's Tokyo headquarters in years. It was bigger than you remembered it being. The worst part? All the halls looked the exact same. It took you about thirty minutes to find the office in which you were currently standing.

A woman who you'd been dreading seeing the whole way over there was perched on a leather seat in front of you, arms folded over the desk, pink hair braided the same way it always had been, feline eyes flitting over your body. It made you feel small – like prey trapped in a predator's den.

"How was your trip over here?" Makima asked. Her voice was smooth, uniform – calculated, just like everything else she did. 

"It was pleasant," You answered. "I came as soon as I could."

"We appreciate that," Makima said, a hint of something sinister in her smile.

She stepped out from behind her desk, pacing slowly around the room. "I called you here because we've recently suffered a great deal of casualties," she explained, her tone measured and controlled. "I'm worried we won't have the manpower to deal with all the sudden appearances of gun-devil pieces."

"I understand. Am I being formally stationed?" you replied, trying to maintain your composure.

"Not that I know of, no," she responded, her eyes narrowing slightly. "For now, we need backup on a particular mission involving a school in the area. There have been reports of peculiar activity there, and I want to send one of my teams to investigate. I haven't decided whether you'll be in the field or here tying up some loose ends—we recently lost one of our best workers, and we're very far behind as a result. I'll have a certain answer for you within the next few days."

"A few... days?"

"Yes, is that a problem?"

"No, not at all, no. I just—" you sighed, feeling the weight of uncertainty. "Yeah, okay, that sounds good."

"You've also been booked a hotel suite nearby. Your stay will be provided at no cost to you," she continued, her tone unwavering. "I'll reach out to you as soon as I have more details. Hang tight until then."

With a tight-lipped smile, you nodded. "Thank you, Miss Makima. Am I dismissed?"

"Yes, I'll have one of our drivers take you to your room so you can drop off your luggage," she said, her smile not reaching her eyes. "Where did you leave it?"

"I left it in the break room," you said.

"Very well. I'll have someone collect it," she replied, her eyes closing briefly as she smiled. "Get home safely."

With that, you turned and left the office, the tension of the encounter still lingering in the back of your mind. There was just something about that damn lady that never failed to send a shiver up your spine. You sighed, glancing down at the old floorboards, at your shoes.

The reality of the situation began to sink in. 

You had traveled all this way, navigating the maze of identical halls and sterile rooms, only to be told you had to wait. The thought gnawed at you— That sounds about right from her, you mused. It was typical of Makima, always keeping you in the dark, always one step ahead, holding the reins tightly.

The cool, clinical atmosphere of the headquarters only heightened your sense of displacement. The fluorescent lights overhead cast a harsh, unforgiving glow, making everything look stark and unwelcoming.

Lost in your thoughts, you heard a series of footsteps echoing down the hall, followed by hushed voices. The sound grew closer, and you recognized the voice immediately—it was the young lieutenant captain again, the man you had bumped into earlier.

You glanced up, and there he was, standing just a few feet away. He was a striking figure, his presence suffocating – commanding and enigmatic. He had a sharp jaw, chiseled and defined, the kind that could cut paper. His eyes, a moody blue, held a penetrating gaze, one that seemed to see right through you, making you feel as though you were laid completely bare before him.

His brow was knit slightly in deep thought. There was a slight furrow at the bridge of his nose. The tufts of inky black hair that framed his features only added to the boyish charm of his face. 

As he spoke to the other Public Safety worker beside him, his hands moved with purposeful grace.

Your eyes were drawn to him despite yourself, unable to escape the force of his presence. 

His gaze caught yours briefly, and in that fleeting moment, you felt an almost tangible tension in the air. It was as if time had stopped for a heartbeat, the corridor seeming to stretch and contract around the two of you.

The connection between your eyes was like a magnet, pulling you in despite your efforts to look away. The faintest flutter in your chest was enough to have you gripping the collar of your shirt.

He blinked first, his eyes breaking away from yours as he turned back to his companion. The conversation resumed, but the air seemed thicker now, charged with the residual energy of your brief encounter. 

"We need to re-evaluate our strategies for dealing with the increased devil activity," he said, his words carefully chosen. "The losses have been significant, and our resources are stretched thin."

You turned and walked in the opposite direction, the soft hum of the fluorescent lights overhead seeming to amplify the distance you were putting between yourself and him.

As you moved down the corridor, you couldn't shake the feeling that his eyes were still on you, as if the weight of his gaze lingered even after you had turned away.  .

You had just stepped out of the shower, the steam still clinging to the room and curling around the bathroom mirror in hazy swirls. The cool, clean air of the hotel suite met you as you emerged, a refreshing contrast to the stifling atmosphere of the Public Safety headquarters.

You took a moment to let the chill of the air sink into your skin, feeling the pleasant coolness against your damp hair and freshly washed face. You dried yourself off, the soft towel enveloping you in its warmth, and slipped into a comfortable set of loungewear—simple, dark gray sweatpants and a loose-fitting, white t-shirt.

You walked over to the full-sized bed, the crisp white sheets and plush pillows arranged neatly. You flopped down onto it, letting out a relieved sigh as you sank into the softness of the mattress.

Reaching for your phone from the nightstand, you dialed your husband's number. As the call connected, you propped yourself up on one elbow and stared at the ceiling, trying to shake off the exhaustion of the day.

When he answered, his voice was calmingly familiar, cutting through the distance between you with a comforting ease. "Hey. How's everything going?"

"It's been a day," you said with a soft chuckle. "I finally got here, but of course, they've got me waiting for more details. Typical."

"Sounds about right," he said, his voice tinged with a longing that you could almost touch through the phone, "I miss you."

You closed your eyes for a moment, trying to push away the brief flash of memories that drifted through your mind—blue eyes and raven hair, a fleeting image that made your heart skip a beat. An image of soft lips wrapped around the syllables, 'Only if you want to.'

You shook your head gently, trying to dispel the image from your thoughts. "I miss you too," you said, trying to keep your tone light and steady.

You heard the faint sound of his smile through the phone, a soft, reassuring sound. You had never been so happy to hear his voice. "How's the hotel?"

"It's nice," you said, shifting your position on the bed to get more comfortable. "Pretty standard, but it's got a good view of the city."

"I can think of one view I'd really like to see right now," he teased gently. 

Just as you were about to reply, your phone started ringing again. You glanced at the screen and saw the name of your old coworker. 

"Hold on, I'm getting a call," you said, your fingers hovering over the screen. 

"Ugh, okay," he said. "Bye."

"Bye," you replied, a smile tugging at your lips as you ended the call.

You took a deep breath before picking up. "Hello?"

"Heya, Hot stuff. What you up to?" Himeno drawled into the receiver.

"Just got out the shower," You answered. "Why? Is something up?"

"Nah. Well, yeah," She giggled. "Miss Makima's taking us out for drinks to celebrate the success of our last mission tomorrow. She rented out this whole space for us. You coming?"

You chuckled quietly, carding a hand through your damp hair. "I always feel dull at parties."

"You? Dull?" Came Himeno's retort. "This really the same person who used to take body shots off complete strangers back in the day?"

The mere mention of your past self had you laughing all over again. "Times change."

"Married life made you soft?" 

You winced. Sure, perhaps a somewhat-boring life in the countryside with your husband had made you a little soft. But there was something in the way she said it – something that made you tick. You were happy being a married woman. You had been happy since the two of you had eloped at 21.

You were happy, dammit. You just wished it was a little easier to convince yourself of that.

"I don't know..." You trailed off. "I won't be any fun."

"Noooooo... You have to come!" Himeno groaned. You could hear her pacing around in the background. "DENJI!" She called to god knows who. "Back me up here!"

The phone was handed over to someone else – a young-sounding boy. "I'm not gonna force someone to go to a stupid party."

"Tell her to come!" Could be heard very faintly in the background.

"Wait. She's a 'she'?"

"Not just any 'she', thats–"

"You should definitely come tonight," The boy decided. "Name's Denji, by the way."

"Hi, Denji," You sighed. "Could you hand the phone back to Himeno for just a moment?"

"Sure," He answered. "Bye, gorgeous. See you there."

Gorgeous. He hasn't even seen me and he's calling me gorgeous. You had to have been in the twilight zone.

"So, you're coming, right?" Himeno's voice chirped over the line.

"I don't know," You answered (again). "Who's going?"

"Aki's coming. Remember him? Partner? Total hottie?" She replied. 

Total hottie was an understatement. Again, the image of his pretty face flashed through your mind. You squashed the mere thought of it – like an incessant bug. "Yes, we met."

"I'm gonna get a smooch out of him by the end of the night," She giggled. "You can bet on that."

People came and went. Seasons changed. Himeno, however, did not. She was just as crude as you had always remembered her being.

"Just a kiss?" You teased.

"Maybe. Maybe more," She teased right back. "Can you believe he doesn't have a girlfriend? He's 20! That's gotta mean something."

He's five years younger than me... You picked mindlessly at your nails. "Something like...?"

"Dunno. Am I wrong for thinking he's holding out for me?" 

"Oh, to be young and naive again," You sighed. "I was engaged at his age," You trailed off, words hanging in the air for a moment after they had slipped past your lips.

Awkward. Did that slip out?

You leaned back against the headboard, feeling the cool pillows against your back while your mind drifted to the past. You had been so young when you'd gotten married, looking back. You loved him, you truly did. Sure, you had your issues, but didn't every married couple?

The two of you were happy. Still, a pang of jealousy surfaced when you heard Himeno speak so freely about her independence, her sexual prowess. In a way, you felt as though you had been deprived of that freedom far too early.

Your fingers traced the edge of your phone, your gaze drifting as memories flooded your mind. Himeno's laughter on the other end of the line seemed distant, a reminder of a simpler time, unburdened by the weight of responsibilities and commitments.

You were happy... weren't you?

"Hey, you still there?" Himeno's voice pulled you back to the present, her tone tinged with concern.

"Yeah, sorry," you replied, shaking off the melancholy that had crept into your thoughts. "Just got lost in my head for a moment."

"Don't we all," she sighed, her voice softening. "Look, just come down tomorrow. It'll be fun. We can catch up, have a few drinks, and maybe you can even be my wingman for the night."

You chuckled, the sound more genuine this time. "Alright, fine. I'll come. But no promises about playing matchmaker."

"Yay! It's at five," Himeno's excitement was palpable, and it was contagious. "I'll see you then. Hopefully, you can loosen up a little bit. Relive the good days."

"Yeah, maybe," you said, a small, half-assed smile playing on your lips. "See you then."

You ended the call and set your phone to the side. 

Loosen up a little, You thought. Yeah, you could definitely stand to do that.

a/n: shortie but a goodie! i already have most of the story written (so this one doesnt wind up like my 25,000 other unfinished projects), and this was the only way i could think to cut this chapter off hehe. ANYWAYYYY i hope yall enjoyed and are prepared for the TENSION AND SPICEEEE. omg its so tasty i cant wait. stay tuned! its gonna be so amazing. please comment and whatever to let me know your thoughts, wants and desires for this story! or just smth fun. i love reading yalls comments hehe comments + reblogs are greatly appreciated!!

credits: UNKOWN ATM. I found it on pinterest unfortch. If you know the artist, please let me know, so I can credit them properly for their work!!! This is NOT MY BEAUTIFUL DRAWINGGG. I obviously do not own csm or anything related to it. please do not reproduce, copy, or translate my works anywhere. dont fk w me im a bruja.

also: come find me on my wattpad if u wanna interact more!

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wanna join the taglist? | shameless ; chapter index

[just-watch-and-calculate]

a failing hard drive (and a mental health revelation)

(written by an adhder off their meds: I will go off on tangents)

(the data seems to be safe now)

(this post is about two things which feels a bit weird but the point I want to make is somewhere where both things overlap)

a lesson I learned from this:

back up your data! do it now! yes, NOW!

it started a few weeks ago when I changed linux distro from suse to arch (though it also started earlier. human starts are hard to define. me and my neurodivergence and my pc and hard drive and my mental health struggles that most if not all nd people have in some form didn't just pop into existence when I started installing arch).

I had unplugged two of my drives to protect the data on them from any mess-ups during the install process. (I should've made backups, yesterday evening would have been less scary that way).

the installation went fine, but it took a few days due to mild lack of sleep and me not using archinstall, but I succeded. (and after accidentally uninstalling the login manager on my laptop and briefly reprioritizing to fixing that because I couldn't get the gui to launch manually without the login manager)

and I was proud of my setup. one minor thing, the drive my /home folder (that's where the user accounts' data is) started its off-on spiel it sometimes did when the cable wasn't plugged in properly. (at that point it had not seemed alarming. I had unplugged it prior and was already familiar with this happening)

it had messed up something with i3, I rebooted, it was fine. I knew what drive it was because I can hear its whirr and the clacking of the head going into its off position when it turned off. I love how it sounds. that I can hear how it is 'alive'.

so I opened my pc, unplugged the drive and plugged it back in. and it was fine for a few days.

after it had happened (or maybe only after the 2nd time it happened on arch) I also looked up if there were tools to assess drive health and installed the smartmontools package. I do not know if I would have been a bit slower in noticing when my drive started to fail, maybe the sounds alone would have worried me enough. quite possibly not. ultimately the s.m.a.r.t. output got me to start a backup of the raw data though, but not by actually warning me directly of imminent failure. it estimated about 20000 more hours of use (edit: that is untrue. I just misinterpreted something).

I think it also went off-then-immediately-back-on a few more times before and after that; but that and the following were the two instances that caused my OS tho struggle before the hard drive failed.

after the second time it happened, upon rebooting, the drive would just do its off/on routine while fstab was trying to mount it on 2 consecutive reboot attempts but failed. mildly panicked I booted the live arch usb I had previously installed from and tried to figure out what to do. I didn't back up my data then. I should have. I had planned to set up backup automation then but not yet got around to doing so. I should have done so.

it was unlikely to be the cables' fault, but yet again I unplugged the drive and plugged it back in. yesterday I found out why that was futile. it did its off/on routine after I'd tried getting a more taxing game to run, but i3 was fine, and so I continued, mildly worried. the second time it happened, not long after, I checked the s.m.a.r.t. data. Because I'd sent all the interesting bits of the data to someone the day prior, I was able to look up how it had been before. still, it estimated about 20000 more hours of drive use (edit: that is untrue. I just misinterpreted something). but the count of PhyRdy->PyNRdy was off the charts. from about 300 in a prior power cycle it rose to above 18000. then, eventually it even reached 19000. online advice on this was: back up your data. now.

and so I did, finally, back up my data. the easiest option with now ramping up andrenaline (and a cold I was still recovering from) was using dd. I made sure the infile and outfile were the right way around and off I went, copying all the disk contents to another disk. (or rather, the contents of the partition I was mainly using)

it went ok at first. then the occasional off/on, going by how the drive sounded. ok, I hope you make it, buddy. please, at least long enough to save my data.

then it wasn't just clack-spin-down-fully-then-spin-up-again. it was stumbles, the clack sounded different, had different timing, it didnt spin down fully before spinning up again. (for clarity: by spin down I refer to the motor inside reducing in speed until it is off, like when shutting down my pc.)

the copying stumbled. a bit past halfway it stopped. i/o error. disk dump (dd) had exited. smartctl just told me "inqury failed". my os seemed to think the disk was still there. it just wasn't responding. not presumably unmounted this time, just not responding. the last temperature readout had been a bit above 40°C. high, but it should be fine, right? the PhyRdy -> PhyNRdy statistic was 19806 at last readout. my hard drive was definetely failing now. dying.

I called someone with more IT experience than me; adrenaline was definitely kicking in now. we opted to shut down my pc and try getting the rest of the data after waiting 20 minutes. giving my hard drive a break. it did not make its usual sound when shutting down. it must've spun down at some point before and not spun up again. I braced for the worst, for the first half of the dd to only contain the data I've had older backups of and for the rest to be lost.

my hard drive had just needed some rest. ddrescure came to the rescue, I copied the remainder of the data with not many auditory "complaints" by the hard drive. then turned off my pc to unplug that drive. it could rest now. it had done its part. I no longer needed to fear that my data would be lost. as of writing this I'm combining both halves of the backup on it into one file to mount it and see if my data is intact. odds are looking good but I should make sure. (as of my 2nd draft I'm mounting the file. fingers crossed.) (as of finishing the 2nd draft of this fsck reports the backup's filesystem as having a bunch of errors. I hope my data is salvageable. mounting the file worked but that is a lot of errors from fsck. gonna do a full ddrescue now.) (the ddrescue is nearly finished; the two halves should be recombinable now, ddrescue just has important syntax differences compared to dd. my data is most likely safe.) (the data backup seems to be fine now!)

I miss the way that hard drive sounds. I miss hearing it start. I miss its hum. I miss the hard drive that, quite literally, made my pc home. I only was at home on arch once I had moved my user data to the new home directory. (finally it wasn't my deadname anymore. being trans was now, accidentally, a way to keep my suse and arch user accounts nice and separate)

/home was home, and now it was failing. dying.

how odd, to be feeling (slight) grief for a hard drive.

and now for the mental health realization:

I've anthropomorphized that hard drive in some places in this post. while it was actually failing I was somewhat doing that most of the time (you can make it, buddy! please, please just try to keep going a bit longer. once my data is safe you can get a break.)

and I realized why that is.

one part of it is just that I have the tendency to anthropomorphize things, like the chocolate snowman who I found out had a name only after I had already eaten it. I felt sad, and a bit silly. I'm never buying chocolate with a name like sammy again.

but there's more to it; and it isn't coincidence that I am putting this in a post about a failing hard drive, rather than that chocolate snowman. not only did I humanize that hard drive when it was "struggling" - I also do it the other way around: taking "schedule maintenance or the equipment will schedule it for you" also as a reminder to take the breaks I need because when I need them they will happen eventually. so I better listen to my body and take breaks when it isn't already a bit too late.

I'm treating myself like the machines I humanize because when treating myself as human what sneaks in is treating myself as someone who should be this good little neurotypical girl. treating myself as who I learned I should be instead of treating myself as me.

treating myself as human has failed somewhat. between being trans and being ace and being neurodivergent, I'm not human in the way I was taught I should be. and with this baggage, I need a better angle at this to be able to take care of myself in a way that will allow me to heal.

I stopped trying to view self-care through my neurodivergent mask. it's not this vague lifestyle thing. it is the basis of my well-being.

I started viewing it as 'self-maintenance'. maintenance is important. it is basis for continued operability. that much is simple. it is specific to what is being maintained. I couldn't exactly have treated my hard drive as a dripping faucet. it would have been nonsense for me to try and save my data from my windows installation which I'm much less experienced with. (and besides, it's windows. I actually use OS as an analogy for my neurodivergence sometimes, I do think it works in many aspects. there are many different linux distros. mine takes a bunch of extra work but works better for me.)

it would be nonsense to try treating myself like a neurotypical person. because I'm not. and it would be nonsense to view this "self-maintenance" as something to do only whenever I've got time between my failing hard drive and uni and having gotten sick. it is important.

short bonus bit - the magnus archives has helped me cope with the fear I felt for my data a bit. and since it continues being an intense interest of mine I'd like to discuss that. just beware of spoilers, I'm not sure off the top of my head when the concepts I'm talking about below stop being spoilers

it is interesting that one of the hypotheses of what is going on with the failing hard drive is that the temperature is somehow why that drive is failing - considering the lightless flame is all about things like this data loss. so hi desolation, I hope to never meet you again. please do not cause the digital equvialent of a housefire (overheating(?) /home) ever again.

running the full ddrescue now, it seems putting a cold pack next to it calmed it down. poor thing really was suffering from heatstroke at normal operating temperatures it seems

[loveinhawkins]

Eddie flops down on the grass next to Steve, still a little breathless from playfighting with Dustin. He stretches his legs out, looking so carefree, that for a moment Steve almost forgets about the impending fight ahead of them.

Steve isn’t stupid—he knows that some of Eddie’s apparently relaxed demeanour will be a front, a way to let the kids have fun, even if it’s just for a little while; and he’s grateful for it, how Eddie can somehow make things light for them. Steve thinks he’s never quite got the hang of that.

“So, Mr Harrington—”

“God,” Steve scoffs, “am I at the principal’s or something?”

“—what are you up to on this fine eve?”

Eddie asks the question in a ridiculous drawl, as if him and Steve are just on vacation. Just killing time.

Steve gestures in the grass to the radio in between his legs. “Was messing around with this. The signal’s patchy.”

When he’d found the radio in the RV, he had planned on it being a backup to the Walkman, a last resort measure—but the volume is feeble, too temperamental to rely on. Every so often, he can pick up a fraction of a song before static takes over again.

A natural lull falls, not uncomfortable, and it’s during that silence when the radio picks up another song: catchy bubblegum pop that Steve vaguely recognises.

“Can you turn that up?” Eddie says suddenly. He’s sitting up straighter and there’s an odd look on his face that Steve can’t decipher.

���I can try.”

And, miraculously, it works: they get to listen to the whole song, and then static takes over again.

Eddie breathes out, a little shaky.

“You okay?”

Eddie nods. He rubs a hand down his face. “Y-yeah. I just…” He sighs again. “I—I forgot. Chrissy, she…” He clears his throat. “When I was driving her to—to my place, she put the radio on, and that—that song—” He chuckles slightly, quiet. Sad. “She was… joking around, saying she should’ve done her, um, cheer stuff to it. We were at a stop light and she—” He delivers the lyrics in a half muttered sing-song—You take me by the heart when you take me by the hand—and demonstrates some choreography, putting a hand over his chest before shaking his head. “I don’t know. It… it was funny. We were laughing. I forgot,” he repeats, voice small.

Steve can picture it suddenly: this unlikely pair carving out a moment of levity. It makes him think of him and Robin, warbling through Bonnie Tyler.

And then Eddie’s face goes chalk white. “Oh, fuck,” he breathes. “I never should’ve got out of the van. Should’ve kept the radio on. Oh, God. Would that have—” He swallows, looks at Steve, eyes wide. “Would that have been enough? To—to save her?”

Steve blows out a breath. “I don’t know,” he says honestly. “But, Eddie, you—you can’t live like that.”

Eddie laughs bitterly. “Yeah.”

“I’m serious.” Steve moves closer, voice low and sincere. “It wasn’t your fault.”

Eddie looks away.

“It wasn’t,” Steve insists.

Eddie turns back with a melancholy little smile. “There was… we were both in a talent show in middle school and… I was trying to be all, uh…” He pitches his voice up into a prepubescent quaver, “Ooh, I’m in a band, you know? Acting all tough or something. But I was actually just waiting in the wings, scared shitless.”

Steve smiles, but he doesn’t interrupt; he can tell Eddie needs this. To remember.

“So, this whole squad of cheerleaders just like killed it, right? And they come rushing off stage, and I’m up next, and my heart’s going like,” he pats a rapid rhythm on his chest, “and Chrissy, she—like, it was middle school, so stuff wasn’t really, uh, defined I guess, but she was already one of the popular girls, you know, and I was just this little weirdo in the corner, but she… She went to squeeze past me, and I think she could tell I was…”

“Scared shitless?” Steve prompts after a pause, and Eddie laughs.

“Yeah. More than that, I think.” He shrugs. “Lost, maybe. …Different? I don’t know, it was only a couple seconds, but you know when someone looks at you and you’re all: Oh, Christ, I think they see me. Does that make sense?”

Steve leans back, running his fingers through blades of grass. He thinks of Robin again. “Yeah. That makes sense.”

“Anyway. She stopped and smiled at me, and it wasn’t even a pity smile, I could tell she meant it, which seemed crazy at the time, and then she—it must’ve been gross, ‘cause I was sweating like hell, but she reached out, took my hand...” Eddie acts it out, clasping his own hands together. “And she said… Damn it, I can’t remember for sure, I—I wish I could ask—” He breaks off, swallows. “It was just good luck, or something like that, but at the time it meant…” He looks down and blinks a few times. “The world,” he finishes quietly.

“That’s… that’s really sweet,” Steve says, and he means I’m glad you had that. I’m glad you had each other.

“It was. She was—you know when people say, oh, she’s a sweet girl, but it’s because they can’t think of anything real to say? She—she was.” He covers his mouth with his hand. “Kind.”

Steve thinks for a long moment. Then he says, soft but firm, “You helped her too, you know.”

Eddie shoots him a disbelieving look.

“You did. She… God, Eddie, she must’ve been terrified, but she trusted you. She felt safe enough to joke around with you.”

Eddie is staring at him.

“She—she was dying,” Steve says carefully. “That night, it would’ve happened if you were there or not. But you—you were kind to her, Eddie. You kept her company, and…” And even though the radio has long since stopped playing, it’s as if the song is still, faintly, in the air. “You made her happy, even if it was just for a moment. And I know—everything after was fucking awful, it wasn’t fair, but that’s—that’s still worth something, man.”

Eddie inhales sharply, and then laughs, voice cracking. “Shit.” He passes a hand over his eyes, and he’s crying, almost silently, shoulders shaking.

Steve moves closer. The kids are still playing, and he discreetly shifts so his shoulder shields Eddie, gives him a moment of privacy.

Eddie keeps his face covered—but with his free hand, he reaches out. “Steve. Fuck. Thanks.” His words are choked.

Steve takes his hand. Squeezes once. It’s all anyone can do, he thinks. Give a hand to hold onto.

[on ao3]

[cherrycocaineee]

35. Joker - Safe With Me

*Warning: I’ve incorporated characters from both Gotham and Suicide Squad. Mention of Violence. Abuse. Legal Age Gap. Whatever else is considered a warning.*

Synopsis: After one of the most intense beatings she’s ever experienced by her father, Paisley runs away; only taking a pre-packed backup with her and ditching her cell. Not wanting to go to the Joker, afraid of what he’d do to her father if she did, she goes to an abandoned building instead. But being the property of the Joker means that he knows where she’s at at all times.

* Paisley’s p.o.v *

It was the worst it had ever been before; and even though it had been two hours since I had just experienced the most gruesome beating in my life, the pain was still fresh. The bruises formed almost immediately, and there were popped blood vessels in my eye coloring the white part red. My face was sticky with old tears, new ones adding to the mess as I looked at the mirror in my room. I hadn’t done anything wrong that warranted this type of outburst, in fact, it had nothing to do with me at all. Apparently, dad was going through some things at work that had him considering leaving Gotham; which I found out meant that he might lose his job if he stayed. He was so stressed out that he drank too much before coming home to take his drunken frustration out on me to make himself feel better.

   I moved some of my blonde hair out of my face; dry blood had crusted into my hair from the cut that it hid. My other hand reached up and touched my busted lip, wincing as I felt the sting of how fresh it was. I tried not to look at the thousands of bruises littering my body or the sharp pain in my ribs that might indicate a broken bone. The only thing I could think of the entire time I cried and looked at my wounds was that I couldn’t do this anymore, and that I deserved better than what I was getting. So I quietly opened my closet door, listening intently to the television downstairs, then grabbed my pre-packed bag out from underneath a few extra quilts and blankets. I was never worried about dad going through my belongings, I was worried about Freddy going through my things and finding stuff that I didn’t want to have to explain to him or my dad.

I didn’t plan on taking my cell phone with me, so I made sure to block the Joker’s number and hope that when I did see him again, he’d understand. I even deleted our messages so no one could go through them when they realized I was gone. I opened my underwear drawer and pulled out a wad of cash that I had been saving up from allowances. Once I had everything that I needed, I opened my window and crawled onto the extended tree limb that normally helped me sneak back in after my nights with Mister J. As soon as my feet touched the ground, I took off down the streets as quietly and quickly as I could. I didn’t want to catch anyone’s attention. All I wanted to do was get away from this man who was no longer my father.

    There really wasn’t anywhere I could go where someone didn’t recognize me; the whole city practically knew who my dad was, even the criminals knew. I’d go to the Joker later but right now, I was afraid of what he’d do once he saw me in this state. In the meantime, I dodged anyone I thought could recognize me and call home to inform my dad that I was wandering the streets of Gotham late at night. After some time, I had managed to walk my way into some abandoned building that I’d never noticed before. Glass covered every inch of the ground, mixing with the gray sand and dead grass, all of the windows were boarded up and I wondered if maybe the windows were broken on purpose when they closed down. It also could have been teenagers breaking in, similar to what I was doing. I could read the sign that was painted on the moldy bricks because it was too faded.

  “God,” I mumbled, “This is definitely how people die.”

  But even that was a better fate than being alive and beaten.

Taking a large breath, I made my way into the building. There were no lights on but the small cracks in the foundation allowed a few slips of moonlight to give me direction. In the distance, I could hear a small bubbling sound coming from a room. A green, illuminated light peeped underneath the door that contained it. Swallowing hard, I shuffled to the door and pushed it open; an eerie creek echoed off the empty, damp walls. Leading through the room was a high pavement of metal that looked wet like everything else in the building, however, surprisingly it wasn’t rusted. I placed my foot on the metal carefully and listened for anything that would indicate I’d fall to my doom. When I was reassured that it was safe, I started walking further into the room. Underneath the walkway were enormous vats of green, steaming liquid that I recognized easily; the only reason I knew what it was was because of the lesson we did in chemistry class. It was acid. I was quickly reminded of Harley’s beginning, how it all started for her here. Part of me always wondered if the Joker kept me around to fill in the hole Harley left, if he really cared about me at all or was he doing it all to help him then toss me to the side. I was afraid to tell him that, to see what his reaction would be. Would he hit me like my father did when he was angry? Would he just leave me? Would I ruin something that I considered perfect in its own way?

    I eventually made it to the edge of the path and peered down at the rolling acid beneath me. I remembered telling Mister J that I didn’t want to end up diving into a pit of acid and becoming the new Harley, and he had been okay with it but I still wondered if that were the case. Sighing gently, I sat down and let my feet dangle over the edge. The drop looked further than it probably was, like if I was peering down at the mess beneath me from a tower. More tears slid down my cheeks and I buried my head into my hands as I started to sob uncontrollably like I had at home.

Time seemed to speed by while I sat alone, crying and wallowing in my own self pity. When I was officially cried out, I wiped all of the tears away as well as the small amount of snot bubbling at the end of my nose. I was so preoccupied that I didn’t notice the door opening or feet approaching me until I had a feeling someone was standing behind me. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up, sending a rush of fear rolling through my body. I was afraid that my dad had found me here and that I would receive more than what I’d gotten earlier. But that fear was tossed out the window when I heard the Joker’s voice.

   “What do you think you’re doing?” He hissed, angry by the fact that I had blocked his number.

 “I just needed some time to think,” I whispered, never making eye contact with him so he couldn’t see my face.

  “You blocked my number,” his breathing was huffier, angrier, “Is that your way of telling me you’re done with me?”

  That time, I couldn’t even form the words to explain myself. All of the emotions resurfaced as I began to choke on sobs again, covering my mouth to quiet them to no avail. Mister J kneeled beside me, gripping my shoulders hard and forcing me to look at him. His eyes were cold and hard, dangerous and calculating; probably all of the ways to kill me. Then they softened and relaxed when he saw the condition I was in.

  “I had to leave,” I cried, “It was so much worse than…than before. And I had to block your number so he wouldn’t see I’d been speaking to you, in case he found me.”

 “Why didn’t you come to me, Paisley?”

 “Because I don’t want you to kill him! He’s my fa-father!”

I buried my head into the silk of his shirt, gripping the leather of his jacket while more sobs escaped. Drool started gathering onto his shirt creating a wet stain but he didn’t say anything. Instead, Mister J wrapped his strong, thick arms around me in comfort while brushing my hair with his fingers. When his fingers found the blood tangled in my hair, he froze but still kept whatever was brewing in his head to himself. Once again, I felt cried out so I pulled away, wiping away the drool and tears from my face as well as his shirt, at least the best I could.

  “I sh-shouldn’t have blocked you,” I croaked, “but I didn’t know what else to…to do. I’m so tired. Drained.”

  Mister J sat beside me, keeping his arm around me firmly.

 “Luckily,” Mister J muttered, his voice still rough with anger, “I know exactly how to find someone when I need to.”

 “How did you find me?” I asked, sniffling.

 “Someone I work close to saw you walking down the street with a frightened face. I figured it was because you were scared of me finding you but now that I’m looking at you, I know that wasn’t the case.”

  Mister J pulled his cell phone out of his jacket pocket and clicked around before putting the phone to his ear. I stared up at him, wondering who he was calling right now.

 “Frost,” he said, answering my unspoken question, “Go to Paisley’s home and collect the rest of her things to bring back home. And take her dad too.”

My eyes widened and I tried to tell him no or anything else that would get him to leave my dad alone. When he hung up on Frost, I pushed him off of me angrily.

“I told you I didn’t want you to kill him!” I snapped.

  Mister J stared at me with a large grin on his face. His silver teeth glowing in the moonlight and the green, illuminating acid. I shook my head; it felt like he wasn’t taking any of this seriously. I climbed to my feet and grabbed my pre-packed runaway kit then started to leave. Mister J was quick to his own feet and grabbed my arm to keep me from leaving.

 “He hurt you and he continues to hurt you. He wants to take you away from me too, and I can’t allow that. I won’t allow that. As long as you and I are together, Paisley, you belong to me, and I won’t allow anything to happen to you like with Harley. Especially when I could have put an end to it. I listened, I didn’t go near him and I didn’t kill him like you asked but enough's enough.”

  My bag slipped off my shoulder, hitting the metal with a loud thud.

 “But I…what will I do?” I whispered.

 “You’ll come stay with me like we’ve talked about.”

 “People will come looking for me.”

 “We’ll fake your own death. They’ll think you and your dad died.”

 “What if I want to go out and get coffee or just for a walk or to pick something up?”

 “Then you’ll go with the guards so they can watch and protect you, otherwise, you’ll be with me. You’ll be safe, Paisley.”

I wiped away the remaining tears and looked up at his icy blue eyes with my own. He was watching me, reading everything he could off my face to see if I’d agree or not. How could I say no? He’d always taken care of me before, he listened and didn’t act when he discovered my dad was beating me or that he wanted to take me out of Gotham. Mister J had never given me a reason to distrust him, even his anger and the way he acted sometimes didn’t scare me because he didn’t take his anger out on me. In fact, he treated me like a princess all the time.

  I reached out and took the hand that wasn’t grabbing onto me. It was covered in tattoos and thick calluses. I led him back to where we had been sitting and pulled him down beside me. I rested my head against his shoulder and sighed. Our outer thighs touched and I kept our hands entwined with one another.

   “Okay,” I said, “I’ll come stay with you. But I swear to God, if you ever lay your hands on me the way he did…”

  No more words left my mouth as Mister J burst into laughter, the sound stretching across the room creating an echo.

  “I’m serious,” I protested.

 “I know,” he laughed, “that’s what makes it hilarious because you think I’d stoop so low as to hit someone as pretty as you.”

  “You’re so unlike yourself when you’re around me.” A giggle left my own lips.

 “Is that so?” He hummed.

I nodded.

And it was true too. Everyone knew how the Joker really was to people; he was a ruthless killer who had no problem manipulating his way out of any situation so he could get what he wanted. But that had never been the case with me; he had approached me, he asked me to be with him, and he continued to see me afterwards without asking for anything besides my loyalty. I didn’t even have to get him out of Arkham when he wound up in there, I just had to promise to come see him on the days I visited my mom and had to be with him once he got out. It was like our relationship was purely based on a need for someone to love him because he didn’t have that anymore. How he ended up falling in love with me was still a mystery but I knew how I fell in love with him. And I didn’t regret being in love with him. If Mister J swore he was going to take care of me and treat me the way I deserved to be treated, then I didn’t mind the darker side of him.

   “Paisley,” Mister J called out.

  I looked up at him and hummed in acknowledgment.

   “I love you.”

  It was the first time he had ever said that to me before. I smiled, nibbling on my bottom lip as I felt happiness erupt inside me.

  “I love you too, Mister J.”

  He climbed to his feet and held out his hand. I didn’t hesitate to take it and he easily pulled me off the metal platform. Not another word was spoken between the two of us as we left the abandoned building. And for the first time in a long time, I knew I was going to be able to sleep peacefully without the fear of being woken in the middle of the night to be punished.

 It was refreshing.

Taglist: @w4nt-h1s-d1ck @leaveitbythewave @ellatitanium @gaymistakeboi @erika-solic @weepingwitchofthewest

[sydsaint]

I'm a sucker for a cocky blonde man

Summary: The reader is Logan's manager whom he's starting to develop feelings for.

"Logan? Logan? Move, please. Thanks. Logan! There you are!" You rush through the trainer's room in a frantic search for the man you've been tasked to manage by Hunter. You finally find the social media star sitting at the back of the room. "What happened? I was in a meeting with Hunter and a few of the writer's team when I got the call that you got hurt?" You hurry over to his side.

"Hell yeah, I got hurt," Logan complains.

You reach Logan's side and instantly notice the bruise forming under his left eye. "Shit! Your eye." You comment. "Who the hell hit you in the face?" You ask him, absently setting a careful hand on his cheek to examine the damage.

"Kevin Owens," Logan answers you, looking down at your hand on his cheek.

"Of course, it was damned Kevin Owens." You grit your teeth and drop your hand back down to its side. "It was with his casted arm wasn't it?" You ask Logan. "I told Hunter that him having that cast should be illegal."

Logan nods in agreement and watches you stomp over to one of the trainers while mumbling to yourself. He watches you speak a few angry and rushed words at the trainer before the poor guy hurries off somewhere. The trainer comes back with something wrapped in a towel and hands it to you and you go stomping back to Logan.

"Here." You walk back over to Logan and press the towel to his face. "Ice that bruises. It'll help with the swelling. And hopefully the discoloration as well." You swiftly bark out an order to him.

"Thanks." Logan nods and takes over icing his face. "So, what are we going to do about Kevin?" He asks you.

You grit your teeth again and shake your head. "I don't know yet." You admit. "It's obvious that Hunter isn't going to care much about this. If anything it's just publicity for the match." You explain.

"Right." Logan nods. "We need some backup." He suggests. "I'd get one of my guys to help us out. But after last time, they're all banned from the shows." He reminds you.

"Backup huh?" You reply, an idea popping into your head. "Yeah, I think I can swing that." You nod and pull out your phone. "And I think I know just the guys that will help us out."

Logan nods and watches you pull out your phone and scroll through your contacts list. You get to a contact and press call on it. "I've got a phone call to make. You ice that pretty boy face and get some rest at the hotel. I'll see you tomorrow morning alright?" You ask Logan.

"Yeah, alright." Logan nods and watches you walk off now talking to someone on the phone.

The next morning Logan is up bright and early to get a quick gym session in before he meets up with you. You've been occupying his thoughts more and more as of late for some reason.

You and Logan met when he signed his contract with the WWE. Hunter introduced the two of you right after. Logan being a newbie to the business, Hunter thought that it'd be best that he have a manager of sorts who knew the business already. And who better to fill that role than Hunter's new protege? Aka you. You've been working with Hunter for a few years now. Plus you and Logan are about the same age. A match made in heaven.

After the gym Logan gets a text from you to meet up with him back at the hotel. He heads out and up to your room to see you. When Logan arrives at your room he can hear you talking inside with an unknown male voice, so he knocks.

"That's probably him right now." Logan hears you approach the door before it swings open. "Yep! Hey, Logan. Come in. How is your face?" You let him inside the room.

"It's alright," Logan replies and peers further inside the room. "What's going on here?" He notices Grayson Waller standing on the other side of the room.

You walk over to Austin and sit down in an empty chair. "This is the plan." You explain. "Go ahead and sit down. We're still waiting for Austin." You explain.

"Okay." Logan nods with a perplexed look but sits down anyway.

You chat with Grayson for a moment before another knock sounds at the door. You get up and let Austin inside the room.

"Austin! Thanks for coming down." You greet Austin at the door. "I appreciate your willingness to help me out with this." You add.

"Yeah, anything for you, YN." Austin cheerfully replies.

Logan watches Austin slide in for a hug which you happily accept and a twinge of jealousy pangs in his chest. Since when are you and Austin Theory so close?

"Right. Logan, you know Austin and Grayson, right?" You turn to Logan once Austin has let you go.

"Yeah." Logan nods.

You grin and walk back over to your seat. "Well, Austin sort of owes me a favor. And he and Gray just so happen to hate Kevin Owens. So they've agreed to help us out with the problem." You explain.

"Really? Damn, that's great!" Logan cracks an eager smile. "Nice going, YN."

"Thanks, Logan. It was no problem. Right, Austin?" You ask Theory.

Austin chuckles with a knowing smile and nods. "Happy to help, YN."

"So," Logan speaks up again. "How do you and YN know each other so well?" He asks Austin.

"Oh, me and Austin went out on a few dates." You answer with a reminiscent smile.

Logan's eyes widen in surprise and he looks between you and Austin. "Oh." He replies.

Everyone mingles for a little while before Austin and Grayson head out until the show later in the night.

"So, you and Austin?" Logan asks you when Theory and Waller have gone.

"Yeah, a while ago. Why?" You nod. "Are you sure that you're eye is alright?" You walk over to him to examine the bruise under his left eye.

Logan watches you walk over and sit down next to him to get a better look at his eye. "What happened there?" Logan pries a bit more, unable to help himself. "He not your type?" He asks.

"No. Austin is exactly my type, actually." You answer him truthfully. "Damn. That looks so bad." You frown and palm Logan's cheek. "No swelling anymore, but still."

"He is?" Logan replies.

You nod and shrug. "Sure." You add to your previous statement. "He's cocky and charming on screen. But a total sweetie when you get to know him. Cute smile, great hair. An even better body. Just my type." You explain.

"Well, then what happened?" Logan asks you.

"Nothing really." You shrug again. "We went out on a few dates. And it was fun and all. But Austin and I kinda just decided that we'd be better off as friends. Why are you so interested in me and Austin?" You're the one to ask a question this time.

Logan looks away from you and shrugs. "No reason." He lies. "I was just curious."

"Right." You reply. "Well. I have a meeting before the show tonight. And I'm sure that you've got stuff to do before tonight. So I'll see you later, alright?" You walk him to your door.

"Alright." Logan nods. "See you tonight, YN."

Later in the night you finish up your meeting and head off to meet with Logan before his match. You get to his locker room and knock before you head inside.

"Logan? It's, YN. I'm coming in!" You announce yourself before heading inside the locker room.

"Hey, YN." Logan greets you when you come through the door. "How was your meeting?" He asks you.

You groan and plop down into an empty seat. "Tedious." You complain. "How are you feeling about Kevin?" You ask him.

"Owen's is a wash." Logan insists with a confident smile.

"That's the spirit." You giggle. "Come on, I'll walk you down to the ramp."

You and Logan head out down to the ramp entrance. When you get there Grayson and Austin are both hanging around.

"Austin! Grayson!" You greet the pair. "How are you two?" You ask them with a friendly smile.

"YN!" Austin pulls you in for another hug. "Damn. You look good tonight." He compliments you.

You giggle and roll your eyes at Austin as he hugs you. "Thanks, Austin. You don't look too bad yourself." You return the compliment.

Across the room, Logan watches Austin pull you in for another hug. He grits his teeth as he watches you laugh at something Austin says.

"Hey, YN," Logan calls you over to him.

"Yeah, Logan?" You dismiss yourself from Austin and Grayson. "What's up?" You ask him.

Logan looks down at you and bites the inside of his cheek. Is now really the time for him to be making a scene? "Nothing. Nevermind." He shakes his head.

"You sure?" You cock your head to the side.

"Yeah." Logan nods. "Just...cheer for me out there." He adds.

You nod and watch Logan disappear through the tunnel. With him gone, you walk back over to Austin and Grayson.

"What was all that about?" Austin asks you.

"I'm not sure." You shrug. "He's been acting a bit weird these past couple of days." You admit. "I just don't know why."

Grayson laughs next to you and you turn to glare at him. "What's so funny, Waller?" You confront him.

"Nothing." Grayson puts his hands up to defend himself. "Nothing." He insists again when you continue to glare at him.

You huff at Waller's childish behavior and turn to watch Logan's match on the monitors.

After a while, you decide to head out to the ring with Austin and Grayson. You head out first and march out to the ring so all the attention is on you and not Theory and Waller sneaking up through the back. You hop onto the apron and shout at Kevin and the referee for a few minutes. Austin and Grayson get down to the ring and assist Logan.

"Nice!" You laugh to yourself when Grayson hands Logan his brass knuckles.

You turn around on the apron to hop down just as Logan knocks Kevin into the ring ropes. The ropes hit your back and you lose your balance and start falling to the floor. Luckily, Austin is there to catch you.

"Whew, thanks Austin." You thank Austin as he carries you around the ring post and sets you down on the floor.

Logan catches a glimpse of you in Austin's arms and freezes up. He drops his knuckles and Kevin gets ahold of them. Kevin puts the knuckles on and delivers a KO blow to Logan.

"Shit!" You scramble over to the ring when Kevin rolls up Logan for the pin. "Hey! Ref! Knuckles!" You shout and point to Kevin's hand.

The referee sees the knuckles on Kevin's hand and stops the count. He calls for the bell and Logan wins the match by DQ.

"Yes!" You cheer and slide into the ring to check on Logan. "Logan? Are you alright?" You kneel down next to him. "You did it! We won!" You inform him.

Logan rises to his feet and collects his championship belt. You walk backstage with him and catch up with Austin and Grayson.

"Hey, nice job out there, Logan." Austin congratulates Logan.

You walk over to Waller while Austin and Logan chat. "Thanks for the assist, Grayson." You thank him for his help.

"Of course." Waller nods. "Night ain't over yet though, sweetheart. You'd better go over there and collect your man before he pummels Austin into the dirt." He nods behind you.

"What?" You turn around and glance over at Austin and Logan talking. "What are you talking about, Grayson?" You ask him.

Grayson laughs like he did earlier. "Umm hello? YN, your boy-toy Logan over there is hooked on you sweetheart." He informs you. "Bad. And he thinks that Austin is trying to get back into your pants."

"Austin was never in my pants." You reply sharply. "It was only a couple of dates. We're friends."

"Logan doesn't seem to think so." Grayson chuckles. "Austin is just being friendly, yeah. We know that." He explains further. "But ol' Logan ain't seeing it that way."

You look back over at Logan and see his jaw twitch. 'shit' you think to yourself and hurry over to his side. "Logan! Let me talk to you for a second!" You wedge yourself between the pair.

"Yeah, YN?" Logan's expression softens a bit once you're in front of him.

"Good work out there champ." You congratulate Logan on his win. "Also I need you to know something. Austin and I are just friends." You assure him. "And we'll always be that. Friends."

Logan glares at Austin again over your shoulder. "Yeah, sure." He mumbles to himself and looks like he's about to shoulder past you.

"Logan!" You call his name again and this time Logan looks down at you.

You waste no time cupping the angry blonde's face and planting a kiss on his lips to stop him from moving any further away from you. The kiss is all Logan needs to exterminate his ideas that Austin might be trying to get you back.

"You get me now?" You ask Logan after you let him go.

"Loud and clear." Logan beams before leaning down to kiss you again.

[deeplyclosetedjameswilson]

house characters as high school teachers but none of them can teach bio bc thats cheating

house - physics. specifically ap physics, 1+2 and c. has the best pass rate in the state but thirteen tells him it doesnt matter because his class sizes are tiny (his reputation scares lots of students off). doesn't grade a damn thing, hasn't lesson planned since dinosaurs roamed the earth. department head but really cameron is doing his job

foreman - calculus and geometry. taking ap calc concurrently with dr houses ap physics c is not for the faint of heart. actually a really good teacher. grades harshly but also gives really good feedback. almost impossible to earn an A in his class unless you really understand the material, but he's always available for extra help. kind of dry so hes unpopular with the younger kids. math department head

chase - gym teacher. his first year of teaching the kids screenshotted his instragram pfp and put it up on posters around the school.

cameron - i know i said no bio but cameron is the freshman bio teacher that all the students adore. definitely has kids eating lunch in her classroom. does all of house's department head paperwork. not as good as giving feedback as foreman but she is better about giving chances to go back and retake tests, make up assignments etc. runs the national honor society

wilson - exclusively teaches english class for seniors. literally impossible to fail his class because you just start crying during extra help and he passes you. big on watching movies in class but will assign one of those worksheet to follow along with. its ok if you dont do it because again, you can sniffle and he will give you a 65. if the school can't find a theatre teacher for the year he's an ok backup but insists on doing the classics. have you ever seen high schoolers perform the works of henrik ibsen? english department head

kutner - english teacher, sophomores and juniors. really big on creative writing. class is extremely disorganized, so you're not always sure what you're supposed to be learning but you're having a good time so it doesn't matter. if he thought ahead enough to make his students hold on to all their work they'd have an amazing portfolio but unfortunately he accidentally threw out all your essays from december (he tells you this in april). they were great though. helps run all the extremely nerdy clubs.

thirteen - another math teacher. kind of like foreman she teaches both upper level kids, but in statistics, and the lower level kids in algebra 1. really good at explaining concepts in ways you wouldn't have thought of. dry sense of humor but the kids love it. students have many theories as to why she's called thirteen (that was the average grade on her final, she fails 13 kids a year, her classroom is haunted and she's the 13th teacher to use it) but its because she was house's 13th student teacher (and the 2nd to actually make it into education despite house's best efforts to convince her otherwise)

taub - career change into teaching. combo sociology and psychology teacher. his class isn't the most interesting, but he's a decent teacher. occasional pop quiz and presentation but otherwise he shows off his powerpoint every day and makes you take a quiz on friday. loves to show a movie in class but unlike wilson he does expect you to turn in the worksheet, cmon its literally 5 questions suck it up. coaches golf

cuddy - the principal. she would like a liquor store gift card for an end of year gift please

[winchester-24]

Imagine: You are meeting Sam and Dean for the first time and take an interest in Sam.

You were on a case in the northern part of Tennessee. A thought of a wendigo hiding in the wooded mountains had you here for about a week. Generally, in a case like this, you would bring back up, but all of your usual asks were either on another case or too far away from you to be able to help within the timeline. You hated wendigos; you felt like they were the worst monsters to fight, but you had a missing mother and father with three young children depending on you to find them, so you headed to the park entrance to start looking for it in the woods.

When you park your car, you see there is one other vehicle there, too, which is strange since the sheriff told everyone to stay out of the woods for the time being. Having to worry about other people being out here is not something you had in mind, but when has anything gone smoothly in this line of work? It was a 67’ Chevy Impala, and she was a beauty. You sighed and popped your trunk, getting the gear you needed for this hunt, hoping to finish it by tonight.

You had been in the woods for about three hours, starting at the campsite where the couple was taken and trying to follow tracks from there. You heard rustling to your right and immediately took the safety off your gun and hid behind a tree. You started to hear two men talking.

“I’m telling you, I heard something coming from over here,” One guy said as they approached closer.

“Dean, we have been out here for hours. Maybe we should try again tomorrow; it will get dark soon,” another voice said. They hit the little clearing you were in, and you came out from behind the tree, gun drawn. The two men heard you and quickly drew their guns at you, and now the three were at a standoff.

“You shouldn’t be out here, little lady.” The shorter one of them said with a little smirk. “The sheriff didn’t tell you these woods were dangerous and off-limits?”

“Funny, I should be asking you the same thing. Why don’t you boys pack it up before one of you gets hurt- or worse.”

“We can handle ourselves,” the man replies. The taller of the two men was looking at you, contemplating something.

“Can I help you?” You say, gun still drawn on them, but turning your attention to the taller man.

“Um. I’m Sam, and this is my brother, Dean; I’m sorry- but are you a hunter?” He asks bluntly. You look between the two boys.

“You’re here for the wendigo?” You ask. They nod their heads. You lower your gun and put it back in your holster.

“Great, I needed the backup. I’m Y/N.” You hold out your hand while the brothers put their guns down and shake your hand. You notice Dean’s hands are super rough and calloused, but Sam's, while rough, has a gentle touch to them.

“Nice to meet you, Y/N,” Sam says, smiling at you. You smile back, and after a few moments, Dean lets out an awkward cough, and you snap out of looking at Sam.

“So, do we want to make a plan?” You ask. The boys look at each other before looking back at you, sharing all the information you have and developing a plan.

_________________________________________________________

You find the Wendigos' lair, and you three start to split up at the different tunnels to try and find the missing couple. Dean splits off first, then Sam, leaving you walking along by yourself.

You turn a corner in the tunnels, where you spot the couple and what looks to be a younger guy hanging from the ceiling. You quickly run over to them and see that the couple is still alive, but the younger man, unfortunately, has no pulse. You start to cut the women down first followed by the man. The woman is knocked unconscious, but the man is halfway awake.

“Don’t worry, I will get you out of here.”

“You have to leave; it will be back soon.”

“It’s okay I can handle it.” Like the universe was laughing at you, you hear a screech behind you. You quickly turn around and see the outline of the Wendigo. You quickly react by shooting a flare from your flare gun but miss. The light makes the Wendigo back up.

“SAM! DEAN! I FOUND IT!” You yell hoping they can hear you. You quickly turn back around and finish cutting the man down.

“Can you carry your wife?” you ask. He nods, goes to his wife, and picks her up. You look around for the Wendigo, but you don’t see it.

“SAM! DEAN!” You yell again.

“Y/N?!” You can hear Sam yell closer to you.

“Over here!” you yell back. Sam comes running up to see that you and the couple are okay. He notices the younger guy strung up.

“It’s too late for him.” You say. He nods his head and then says

“We need to get out of here quick. Dean is going to try to distract it so we can make a break for it.” You nod your head, and you guys start running quickly. Sam quickly grabs your hand and pulls you to the wall beside him, which makes you grab the couple's husband and pull him back to the wall. Sam is peeking around the corner, and after a few seconds, he nods back at you, and you guys start running again.

You see the exit coming up, but the Wendigo jumps in front of you and blocks it. The Wendigo screeches, and Sam raises his flare gun and fires it while Dean runs from a connecting tunnel. He also fires at the Wendigo. The creature starts to erupt in flames and dies screaming the entire time. You guys smile and let out a little laugh when you notice something. Sam never let go of your hand. You guys make eye contact, realizing the same thing at the same time, and you feel your cheeks hit up a little bit, thankful the tunnel is dark so he might not see.

“Alright, let's get back to the entrance,” Dean says.

The sun was barely up when you returned to the park entrance and where your cars were. You helped the couple into the back of your car before turning around and walking up to the boys who were now leaning on their car.

“Thank you for the help on this case, boys.” You say, “I'm going to get these two home and then be gone before the sheriff can ask me any questions.”

“It was great working with you too, sweetheart,” Dean smirked. You roll your eyes but give him a polite smile. You look at Sam.

“You’re a great hunter. I hope we cross paths again,” Sam says. You smile and pull out a slip of paper you had that you wrote your number on.

“I’m counting on it.” You say as you give him the paper. You turn around smiling to yourself hoping that he would call you.

You didn’t know it then, but you did not have to wait long for that call from the infamous Sam Winchester.

[bangtanhoneys]

GRACE TOUR DIARY: April 2nd 2025 - New York City

If there was one thing Big Hit was good at, it was backup plans. 

The news had arrived at their hotel an hour after the concert had finished and Grace had gone to bed. Weather warnings of heavy snow and wind across Chicago and New York meant there would be travel disruptions but nothing major as of yet. However, as the hour passed, more updates were coming through to say the weather was getting bad and flights had been cancelled.

There was no other way of getting to New York City in the time they needed to so the staff were looking at hiring another private plane, yet flights were banned from leaving or coming to Chicago so that was off the cards. Trains meant it was a 20-hour journey on one train and then there was logistics of it all, with staff, dancers, luggage, bodyguards and security. 

The only other option was to hire cars.

And so before 5am, ten black SUVS had been hired to carry their dancers, staff, luggage and Grace from Chicago to New York City. And that’s what Grace woke up to at 5 am. 

By 5:30 am, she was dressed, packed away and looking over the plans with Sejin who had been on the phone to the team in Korea. 

“So it’s going to take about 13 hours to drive, but that’s without stops so we’re going to change drivers around so everyone can get a rest. We have to take the longer route as the other route has major road works on it which could delay us even further. We’ve delayed the meeting with the Mayor until tomorrow as he already knows the issues and everyone else with schedules has been informed of what’s going on. I have no doubt tomorrow will continue as planned. Still, for today, we’re not taking any chances,” Sejin explained to the small team around him which included the drivers, the bodyguards, Grace’s female manager and Grace herself. 

“I can drive as well as I’ve got my international licence,” Grace mentioned and she could see everyone look uneasy. “If only to help people take a break because I don’t want anyone getting into trouble or feeling unwell because they're trying to get me to New York. If I can help, I will.”

Which is how Grace found herself with a set of keys for one SUV to start the leg of the journey out of Chicago and to Toledo, where someone else would take over the next leg of the journey for her.  It wasn’t too bad, it was a bit big the car but the radio was on and Sejin was next to her. Her female manager, Hana, behind Sejin and a bodyguard next to her. Her luggage had taken over the boot.

The American highways were easy and straight, massive trucks going past on deliveries and if they hadn’t been in somewhat of a rush, Grace might have enjoyed the drive a little bit more and enjoyed what scenery she could see. 

They pulled into Toledo four hours later and swapped drivers, with Grace now in the back with Hana and Sejin in the front still. It was 11 pm in Seoul and she sent a quick message to the group chat, knowing it wouldn’t probably be picked up by any of the boys until later on in the day.

‘Snow across Chicago and New York. Just drove for four hours to Ohio and now we’re on the way to New York. Wonder if we can stop for burgers somewhere.’

Hobi, surprisingly, was the first one to read it and answer.

‘Jin-hyung and I are out having dinner! We’re thinking of you and your burgers. Stay safe. Don’t drive like a maniac.’ Accompanying the message was a GIF of Stray Kids dancing to their song Maniac. 

There was nothing more she could do in the car other than catch up on sleep, check the weather, check the time, and talk to Hana about whatever popped into her head and by the time Grace opened her eyes again, she could see the Big Apple looming ahead.

“New York New York, it’s a hell of a town,” she sang under her breath but Sejin had heard her, causing him to laugh. It had been a long 9 hours from their break in Toledo to a small town outside of Pittsburg where they changed drivers and cars again and then another break in another small town just before they made the last part of the journey.

They rolled into the underground parking at 7 pm and they were all tired, sore, in need of stretching their legs and just in general need of a rest. Sejin had been managing their schedule with every mile of the journey and while the day had been a washout due to the weather, tomorrow’s schedule would go as planned. Up early to go for a meeting with the Mayor, a tour of the 9/11 Memorial and museum and then it would be onto Jimmy Fallon. 

Grace had never been more happy to see a hotel bed in her life and it didn’t take much for her to climb into the many layers of covers, fluff up the pillows and go straight to sleep without the usual nerves and worries at her heels. The trip across five states had worn everyone out and while the alarm was early, it wouldn’t be another wake-up call at 5 am. 

New York welcomed Grace when she opened her curtains to see the sun shining and the snow starting to melt, city workers were already out to clear up as much as they could and while the news had been reporting about the snowstorm, there were a couple of channels talking about the upcoming Grace concert. Thankfully no fans had been brave enough to try and camp outside in the horrible conditions for merchandise or catch a glimpse but there had been record sales of her two nights at Barclays Center in Brooklyn. 

The meeting with the Mayor was nothing more than a ‘welcome to New York’ and Grace posed with the Mayor and his staff, all showing finger hearts to the camera and the pictures were soon posted to social media not long after Grace had left. And with a police escort, it was off to the 9/11 memorial. There would be no BANGTAN BOMB filming for this one, this would just be a personal visit with one photographer to capture a couple of photos but it would be minimal. It was not something that Grace felt like it needed to be broadcasted.

However, that didn’t stop the news from spreading and articles soon appeared, especially online blogs, where they spoke briefly about her visit to the City Hall and then the 9/11 memorial but they more spoke about her Karen Millen belted dress that had been picked specially for the meeting and for the memorial. They talked about how it complimented the first day, how black was appropriate, and how her black heels made her look taller but they weren’t stilettos or stripper heels. 

“No one cares about anything other than fashion,” Grace sighed as she handed the phone back to Hana. 

“The dress has sold out as well,” Hana commented as she left the room as Sejin wandered in. 

“The Grace effect,” he chuckled as he took a seat at the table in the lavish hotel suite and helped himself to the small buffet the hotel had provided for lunch. 

The Grace in question snorted to herself and finished off her cup of tea, letting out a large yawn and stretching up her arms. “So,” she said once she finished trying to wake herself up. “Jimmy Fallon - they start filming at 5 pm, don’t they but we’re recording the performance at 3 pm.”

“They’ve got a selected audience ready for the performance recording, half are ARMY and half are regular people. And then at 5 pm, they start the actual recording for the interview and it should take about an hour and a half or maybe two, depending. So we’ll be back at the hotel by at least 7 pm,” Sejin confirmed as he finished off the selection of sandwiches he had picked.

“And rehearsals start tomorrow morning.”

“Rehearsals start at Barclays tomorrow and you’ve got a full day of them as we’re a bit behind but you’ve got that basketball tomorrow night. And then obviously the day of the concert, soundcheck, a couple of interviews mid-afternoon then the concert itself,” Sejin reeled off without having to look at his phone for the schedule since he knew it by heart. He had to know it off by heart so he could keep his team and everyone else in check. 

There were no nerves for Grace as they made their way to the studios to film Jimmy Fallon. He was one of the few interviews who got things right and didn’t make it awkward, didn’t treat them any differently, and respected them as a band and individually. She remembered meeting him the first time, how he had fallen in love with all of them but Jimin especially. And that had been clear when Jimin had done his solo trip there, how accommodating Jimmy was of a young man who was just finding his feet on his own. And the interview with Yoongi was another indication that Jimmy had done his research and had known his favourite group enough to ask the right questions, including basketball.  

Grace knew Jimmy wouldn’t be asking the awkward questions tonight. She hoped.

He was already there waiting for her and it surprised her as he walked over, hand out ready to shake hers. “Miss. Chu,” he said in a fake posh British accent which had her laughing. “Mr. Fallon,” she replied and shook his hand which made Jimmy grin and hug her instead.

“Welcome back to New York! We’re excited to have you here and I can’t wait to come to the first concert, I’ve got tickets with my family.”

“Oh really? Well, make sure you bring them backstage so I can meet them,” Grace said as she darted a glance towards Hana who nodded and made a note on her phone.

“Amazing! I’ll let you get to your rehearsal for your performance which I can’t wait for, I’ve been gushing about it forever and then I’ll see you later on for your interview. Nervous?”

“With you? Never,” she grinned.

A small rehearsal for her performance without her costume meant it was easy sailing. While it was harder to pull off a grand dance routine on such a small stage, the dancers adapted quickly and before anyone knew it, it was time to record the performance. It was like being in Korea, someone coming up and explaining what would happen, when to cheer, when to applaud, how long it would take, etc. 

She could see who was ARMY from the side of the stage. The merchandise they were wearing gave it away and while they didn’t have their ARMY BOMBS, she could see a glimpse of who their bias was with the BT21 characters on clothes or jewellery. So while she didn’t have the boys with her, she did have the next best thing. 

The performance of 7 Rings went off like a house on fire. The crowd were so responsive, especially to a remix of the track to make it different to any other performance and the purple outfit Grace had specifically worn in respect to her fans had caught the attention of people on Twitter. 

However, while the performance was regarded as one of the best across social media, the interview that came afterwards would gain millions of views and be talked about all the way up to Grace’s two concerts in Brooklyn.

Holding the vinyl cover of the ‘In My Head’ album and the cover of the ‘Here In My Arms’ mini album, Jimmy beamed at the camera. He went to open his mouth but the screams blocked out anything he had to say, causing him to pause for more than 10 minutes until the crowd calmed down enough so he could begin his introduction. 

“Our next guest,” he paused just in case the screams started again, “is an eight-time 

Grammy-nominated artist and won two Grammys only earlier this year! A global music icon, part of one of the biggest bands the world has ever seen which some of you know as BTS. Her debut album, In My Head, continues to break world records in streams and has been the Billboard Number 1 album for two months, and it shot back to the top of the charts again with her world tour, including the mini-album released only earlier this year - that broke records in its own right. She’s in New York for two sold-out concerts, which sold out in 10 seconds. 10 seconds! Ladies and gentlemen, it’s a pleasure to introduce you to Grace Chu!”

Grace took a deep breath and walked out to the stage, pausing only briefly to bow to the crowd who were so loud it took her breath away as she laughed and headed towards Jimmy. It was the usual hugs, pausing to show her off to the crowd, to marvel at her outfit which had been specifically chosen for the night - a vintage Alexander McQueen 1997 black dress, with two dragons that intertwined each other up to her chest. A pair of Louboutin heels and emerald earrings to match the emerald bracelet she received from Grace. To keep it simple and easy, her blonde hair was styled up into a sleek bun. 

“Now, before we start and before you say anything, I want to hear your accent because not many people know about this,” Jimmy started the interview. “So Grace, if you wouldn’t mind and turn to the camera there,” he pointed out the one in question, “and introduce yourself.”

Grace hid her smile and turned to the camera, bowing slightly. “Good evening, my name is Grace Chu and it’s a pleasure to be on the Jimmy Fallon show.” Her British accent made those watching at home later on pause, frantically Google her name so they could see why she had a British accent and wasn’t speaking Korean. 

“When I first met you and I heard you speak, I was blown away. I was expecting Namjoon’s American accent, but that’s a proper British accent you have. And obviously, most people expect you to speak Korean.”

“It is amusing when most people interviewing us, especially abroad, turn to look at the translator for my answer and then look at me weirdly as if I’ve started speaking another language that’s not English and not Korean,” Grace shrugged with her hands up as if to say ‘what can you do?’

“So you’re half British and half Korean, correct? And you were born in Manchester?”

“So my Dad is from South Korea and my Mum is from London. And they met while my Dad was working in London and he had to travel to Manchester, where I was born, for his job so obviously my Mum came with him. We lived there for seven years and then we had to move to Germany for Dad’s work. I think I was about ten when we officially moved to South Korea, to Suwon-si where my grandparents live. And then we moved to Seoul a year later.”

“You can speak German?” Jimmy asked, looking completely baffled as if this was complete news to him.

Grace grinned and nodded, asking him how he was in perfect German.

“Is there any language you can’t speak?”

“My Japanese is terrible. Namjoon is always on my case to take more lessons in Japanese.”

Jimmy snorted behind his hand as he brought up the most recent photo of BTS which was taken just after Hobi came home.

“BTS,” he started then paused when the screams started causing Grace to look startled as she stared at the crowd in amazement. ‘Wow,’ she mouthed with a laugh, giggling as she turned back to look at Jimmy.

“The group,” he said instead and playfully glared at the audience. “You’ve been with them since they first debuted and here you are now, on your own. Have they given you any advice? Or have they had any involvement in your album and tour?”

Grace paused, tilting her head. “The album was made without any input from them mostly because it was my first time where I had creative control over what songs, lyrics, music, videos, and outfits. That was all mine. But there were times when I went to Namjoon or Yoongi, Hobi, any of them and questioned every move that I made, wondering if I was doing the right thing or if this was even a good idea.”

“Good thing you did listen to them as you’ve won two Grammys and you’ve been on the Billboard for two months when the album first came out and back at the top since you landed in Los Angeles for your tour, which has broken Yoongi’s records.”

She bashfully smiled and hid her face when the crowd approved by clapping loudly.

“Has it been hard though?”

“It’s been quiet,” Grace started with a snort of laughter. “But it’s tough because it’s only me and the dancers but I’m on stage for 95% of the time and it’s not like Jungkook is going to appear and do his solo song to give me a break or six other members to take your place so it is tough but ARMY keep me going and their support means a lot.”

She turned towards those she could see in the crowd and saw their finger hearts which made her smile and return those affections.

“Now,” Jimmy grinned as he paused and held down the next card, “since you're here.”

“Oh no,” Grace whispered as she covered her eyes.

“We have to talk about this.”

She didn’t need to know what picture Jimmy was showing because she knew by the noise that met said picture. 

A peek through her hands told her everything she needed to know. 

The most recent picture of Seokjin, where his hair had grown back to its usual length, had been taken from his Instagram and she was pretty sure she had taken that picture. Grace caught the teasing grin Jimmy sent her way and she sighed, bracing herself for what was coming next.

“You’ve been together for seven years and you released a mini-album on your anniversary, which also broke records. I just have to ask, are we going to be seeing him on your tour?”

It wasn’t the question she had expected if she was honest. She had been expecting something worse and something dirty, especially concerning the lyrics from her Here In My Arms album but it was a simple enough question that exposed more about their relationship than any other question could.

“Maybe,” Grace started and smirked at the cheers. “Maybe. Obviously, our schedules are planned nearly a year in advance and I’ve always said I never wanted to overshadow what the boys were doing in terms of their solo careers so we will have to see.”

“Is he here already?” Jimmy asked, leaning forward.

“As far as I’m aware,” Grace checked her watch, “it’s 6 am in Seoul. So I would imagine he’s currently sleeping off dinner.”

Jimmy pouted, obviously wanting the main exclusive that the power couple would be seen on stage in his hometown of New York but it seemed it just wasn’t going to happen. The rest of the interview flicked from funny to serious with questions ranging from any funny moments with the boys to life in England and she finished off her stint on Jimmy Fallon by doing the karaoke segment that Ariana Grande made famous with the Evanescence rendition. 

“Well done, that went perfectly,” Sejin greeted her after it was all said and done and she said her goodbyes to Jimmy, and to the staff and got in the car to head back to the hotel. 

The next morning, while it wasn’t too much of an early start, Grace woke up early enough to take a shower and do her skin routine. Breakfast was simple as to not give her a heavy stomach and by 10 am, the team were driving through the streets of New York - from the famous 5th Avenue, past the famous Flatiron Building, and onto the Manhattan Bridge and through Brooklyn until they came up to the Barclays Center which had advertisements for her tour all over the LED screens. 

The stage was already set up and the dancers were warming up on various parts of the stage or near the seats where 17,000 fans would be packed in over two nights. This stadium would mark the end of the American leg of the tour and the moment she was done, she’d be back on a plane again.

Rehearsals seemed to go quickly and by 5 pm, she was out of the stadium and dressed up to attend her first basketball game. While it hadn’t been a decision made by her, it was more promotional than anything, she found herself courtside where all the cameras were pointed to see who would be taking up the VIP seats. Sejin was next to her as was a bodyguard who sat just behind the two of them and she knew how Taylor Swift felt every time the camera panned to her instead of the players. 

It didn’t help that Yoongi’s Hageum song would play at intervals where her face would be plastered all over the screen. But it was a good game, she got some photos to send back to Yoongi when he would be awake to see them and of course, there were the usual photos with players.

The day of the concert, the sun was out and the hustle and bustle of New York City was well underway by the time Grace rolled out of bed. The day of the concert always had her somewhat nervous, the questions of what could happen would roll around in her head until she got to the stadium to do her soundcheck and run through whatever they had discussed the night before. 

Time passed quickly - shower, breakfast, interviews with local TV stations or magazines, then straight to the stadium to do soundcheck mid-afternoon, a quick run-through of two parts where they had to make some adjustments and finally, the time rolled around where she was under the stage, hearing the fans explode into excitement as the VCR started to fade out. 

No matter how many times she did it, no matter how big of a crowd, no matter if it was abroad or in South Korea - just the noise of the crowd, the ARMY BOMBS, the costumes some people were wearing when her eyes would catch sight of them, everyone singing along, knowing the words or even some of the dance moves, all of it made her hairs stand up and the worries of the tour wash away within the first half an hour. 

The New York crowd was so responsive, especially when she welcomed them to the In My Head tour, standing there for 10 minutes and letting the noise of every person in the stands wash over her like it was the first time. 

When the opening chords of Save Me started to play, Grace could see everyone doing Jimin’s signature dance move that had been openly mocked by the group themselves. Catching one of the dancer’s eyes, she grinned and nodded and soon followed, sweeping her arm in front of her as she got to the chorus and without much encouragement, the seven other dancers followed and swiftly executed the choreography after a bit more teasing. 

“New York City,” Grace paused as she stood on the stage for the final part where she would finish off the concert with Dangerous Woman. “Thank you so much for spending your night with us. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for breaking your own records by selling out both nights in 10 seconds, you’ve been one of the best crowds so far and I can’t wait to come back with the boys. Love you all.”

ARMY was still singing as Grace was lowered back down to underneath the stage, the ending chords of Dangerous Woman still playing as she reached the bottom where staff were on hand to take away her microphone and in-ears. And for the first time, Grace had to admit, she had left the stage on a high - there were no uncertain thoughts, no worries, no stress or anxiety. If there was going to be a concert that had been the turning point for Grace and what she was capable of, then this would be the concert to do that. 

Back at the hotel room, kicking off her shoes with a sigh as her tired feet met the carpet, her eyes caught a massive bouquet waiting for her on the coffee table in the living area of her suite. 50 red roses were sitting in a clear vase filled with water, and a teddy bear that was dressed in a t-shirt that said ‘I Love New York’ was sitting next to the bouquet with an envelope.

Grinning to herself, Grace opened the envelope to one simple note that read: ‘Two days to go - J.’

[murdersinthemaking]

Yancy is supposed to meet Murdock for dinner tonight.

One last piece of business for the day, and they would have an honest to God date night together. Of course, life can never go to fucking plan.

He's already a half hour late, pinned down in a bullet-proof SUV with Hank and an unconscious Jimmy, waiting for backup. Hopefully, backup that didn't pull the same shit as Da... the dead motherfucker in the driver's seat.

He has to talk to him, even if Yancy is a chicken shit and sends an audio message.

"Hey, sweetheart... fuck, I am so sorry I'm late. Ah, somethin's come up." His voice is strained with pain, and distant popping in the background sounds suspiciously like bullets. "Listen, I need you to go to the house, alright? Only me, you, Hank, and Jimmy know about it, I swear. Don't tell anyone where yer goin', not even my own guys. And you gotta turn off yer phone, toss it if you can. I don't... I dunno what's gonna happen, but I do know that I love you. And that I will see you soon, understa-"

A handsome salary from a handsome man buys him a lot of things. Repairs to his home, an exterminator, and all the little extras he couldn’t afford before. Murdock had learned to somewhat accept these luxuries, though he insisted on being sensible with it all. Yancys tastes were higher than his own, he couldn’t let himself get too comfortable after all. The universe also wouldn’t let them get too content either.

Sat in the restaurant, Murdock switches between almost dialling the number and sending waiters back who asked for an order. In a place completely out of his league, looking like a gangly spider in a sweater in the middle of the restaurant. Caught up in his own web of thought, wondering if this was how Yancy ended the relationship. A humiliating meal on his own. Comforted by some form of response, he puts the phone to his ear in order to here the message. As comfortable as a sweater made of wire wool.

Dashing out and getting into his car, locking both doors before he tries calling Yancy again. Driving along the highway, desperately redialing the number. “Darling, what the fuck is going on? I’m not understanding shit right now, being left sitting there like a lame duck. Where are you?”

[iamvegorott]

Magicians Don't Need Superheros Pt37

First: Link Prev: Link Next: Link

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Marvin woke up and saw that he was alone in his bed. Why was he disappointed about that fact? It was so weird that he had expected to see Jackie next to him. He must have just gotten so used to that habit of sharing a bed after seeing each other late in the night, so the shift was throwing him off. Marvin had mocked Dark for not being able to change the routine, but maybe he was the same. 

“Ugh.” Marvin groaned at that thought, hating that he could have anything in common with Dark. He sat up and looked at the empty spot again. Jackie had been acting really strange the last time he saw him. He should ask him about it to see if he needed anything. If they wanted to take care of Night today, they all had to be at their best.

“Morning, Marvin.” Chase greeted as Marvin went into the kitchen after getting dressed for the day. 

“Morning. I was told you and Henrik had an interesting night.” Marvin shot a grin to Henrik, who was sitting at the small table and now choking on his coffee. 

“It-It was-It was a nice dinner.” Chase sputtered out. 

“Yeah, the hickey confirms that.” Marvin pointed to Chase’s neck and chuckled. Chase could only let out some gibberish while Henrik hid his face with his hand. 

“Found the fucker.” Anti said as he walked in, tapping away on his phone. “Looks like he’s heading back to where he first popped up. Probably doing that whole ‘returning to the scene of the crime’ bullshit.” He tucked his phone into his pocket and then clapped his hands. “When Jackie gets here, we can head out and ruin that shit's day.” 

“We? You mean myself and Jackie?” Marvin corrected.

“I’m coming with you two, didn’t Chase tell you?” Anti shrugged.

“No. No, he didn’t.” Marvin turned to look at Chase. “Anti is coming with us?” 

“As a backup,” Chase explained. “Just in case something goes wrong, he can step in and help.”

“We don’t need his help.” Marvin huffed. 

“What’s going on?” Jackie was finishing putting on his hoodie as he stepped into the room. 

“Take an apple. We’re going to the forest.” Marvin grabbed said apple, plopping it into Jackie’s hand, and then grabbed the collar of the hoodie to pull Jackie out of the house. 

x~x~x

“Mad says that Host never explained what was changing in the vision, so there’s nothing for us to work off of that,” Jackie said as he read his text. “Do we have a plan?” 

“Knock Night out and drag his body to the Manor.” Marvin rolled up his sleeves. 

“How?”

“Distract him, and I’ll take over from there.” 

“Are you sure?” Jackie noticed how Marvin’s usual confident energy was different. There was an anger behind it. He wasn’t able to read emotions like Mad was, but Jackie could tell when someone was pissed at the world. 

“I got this. I know what I’m doing.” Marvin fixed his hair so it was in a tight ponytail. Jackie had a really bad feeling about this, but he trusted Marvin…he also didn’t want Marvin to get hurt. “Are you okay?” Marvin noticed how Jackie seemed hesitant. That wasn’t how he was. Something was wrong. 

“Yeah, yeah. I’m just ready to be done with this.” Jackie weakly laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“So am I. We can splurge at that cafe when this is finished.” Marvin suggested, waving his hand over his face and his mask appearing. “I think they got a new cherry pie we can try.” 

“That sounds good.” Jackie wished they could just skip to that. 

“There he is.” Marvin pointed before disappearing in the next blink. Jackie followed where Marvin’s hand had been and saw Night looking around, annoyance clear on his face. 

“I got this,” Jackie said to himself and then took a deep breath, letting it out as he jogged over to Night. “Hey!”

“Oh great, it’s you.” Night scoffed. “No friend?” 

“Are you doing alright?” Jackie avoided having to lie by asking a question instead and letting himself ramble. “Like, have you been eating? You look super tired. Did you get kicked out of the hotel? Probably couldn’t use that card for too long. We could, like, make you a sandwich or something. Can never go wrong with a good sandwich.” He saw Marvin making his way around, getting closer to Night’s back. 

“Did you really track me down again to offer food?” Night rolled his eyes. 

“I’ve done it before. Marvin, my friend, was the previous person to show up and I wanted to make sure he was okay so I left these like little care boxes with some food and water and tea.” Jackie outlined a box with his hands, a smile on his face as he recalled the memory of watching Marvin eat the food he made. 

“This friend, you care about him, don’t you?” Night raised a brow.

“Well, yeah, he’s my friend.”

“That is not what I mean. You care about him.” 

“I-uh-he’s just-he’s my friend.” Jackie cleared his throat. 

“Allow me to give you some advice. Drop those ‘feelings’ of yours. Nothing good will come from it.” Jackie noticed that now Night was the one rambling instead. Maybe he could keep him going to keep him even more distracted. “Love won’t get you anywhere. It’s just a nuisance in your way of getting what you want and need. If marriage is ever involved, it’s for power, to trade, to ensure the balance of things. The fact that my own ‘loving wife’ has yet to show is a sign of that.” 

“You’re married?” 

“I am Night. She is Day. It’s how it is meant to be.” 

“So you don’t love her?”

“There is no need. It's not like I have to worry about ‘my heart’ or anything like that. I don’t know her own stance but we know our purpose, so there’s no point in fighting against it. Not like anyone would ever get me to do a double-take, as one might say.” Night chuckled. “If you’re done disturbing my work, I am going to see if I can find-” He stopped, going stiff as Marvin’s glowing hands got close to him. Night quickly turned and swung his leg, just missing hitting Marvin. 

“Wait!” Jackie ran over and got between Night and Marvin, holding his arms out. “Just come-” He didn’t get to finish before Night slapped his arms away, rammed the heel of his palm against his nose, and then caught one of his arms with both hands. 

“No more warnings.” Night’s eyes darkened and, without hesitation, jerked his hands toward each other. A loud sickening snap echoed through the trees and the sound that followed was Jackie’s scream.  

“Jackie!” Marvin watched Jackie fall over, clinging to his arm that bent at an unnatural angle. “You fucker!” The glowing on his hands got brighter, the green color’s shade going darker and darker as he lunged himself at Night. 

Marvin threw his punches wildly, not thinking, just lashing out. He wanted to cause as much damage as he could. Anger built up with each miss, and it continued to get stronger even when he managed a blow across Night’s face. He needed to do more. He needed to keep going. The green of his magic was nearly black, losing full control over the chaos magic he had dug into. 

Night was beginning to struggle, unable to keep up with the rapid movements, and all of the air left his lungs when a solid punch to his stomach slammed him into a nearby tree. He gasped his breath as he watched Marvin charging for him once more. 

But a new scream made him stop. 

Jackie. 

Marvin turned and saw Jackie still on the ground, but he wasn’t moving, and his arm was somewhat straight again. 

He looked back, and Night was gone. He ran off. Marvin had seen the fear in his eyes. 

He had won…but it wasn’t worth it. 

“Jackie.” Marvin had the glowing fade, but the very tips of his fingers were still black. “Jackie? Jackie? Hey, you with me?” He went down to his knees, seeing the blood on Jackie’s face. “Shit, shit.” Marvin tore off the bottom of his shirt to try to clean off some of the blood, wanting to see if his nose was broken or not. “It’s okay. It’ll be okay. Just-Just wake up…Jackie? Jackie, I need you to wake up.” He thickly swallowed and let the fabric fall to the grass as he began to cough. Marvin looked at his hand, seeing something black on his palm but ignored it as he took his mask off. “Jackie? Jackie, please.” Marvin placed his clean hand on Jackie’s cheek, turning his head in hopes that facing him would work. “Wake up…look at me…wake up right now and we’ll-we’ll watch those Deadpool movies or-or we can go get you new comic books.” He blinked away tears beginning to form. “We’re going to go get those sweets, right? That pie and we can also get some cookies and brownies and anything that sounds good to you.” Marvin felt dizzy, vision blurring for a second and he tried to shake it off. “Jackie, please. Jackie, please wake up. Please. Jackie, darling, wake up.” He didn’t even realize the pet name came out. “Jackie…” Marvin had to let Jackie go to catch himself, pressing his hand to the grass. “Shit…”

He did too much, he did the magic wrong, and his body was giving up on him.

Marvin sniffed and fumbled around until he got his phone out, hand shaking as he dialed the first number he could get to.

“Anti…help…please.”

He managed to get the words out before everything went dark.

[scoops-aboy86]

♠️♥️ once again! It's Halloween time and for the past month Steve has been chauffeuring the kids around for whatever they wanted (all with attitude of course) and he can't help the annoyance he feels dealing with them, especially Mike. Sometimes he and Eddie get together and talk about what little shits they are, and Halloween night the two get the idea to get a little revenge. All in good fun of course. They all gather at Steve's house and the two make the plan to get the kids (teens now wow) to leave their candy with him while Eddie distracts them and to basically fool them by making them think he ate it all. Of course he has backup candy bags (the good stuff; full size candy bars), but now he has to figure out where to dump their actual candy. He can't hide it because that's too obvious and he technically has to pretend to have eaten it all so Steve concludes to actually just eat it (a horrible idea really, but this was a last minute prank and the joint he smoked an hour ago doesn't help either).

With Eddie and the kids gone he gets started: flicks on a scary movie and settles into the couch, all six candy bags nestled by his side. Chocolates and gummies, licorice and skittles, little bags of treats slowly popped into his mouth. One after the other, Steve methodically unwrapping, chewing, and swallowing. After awhile the taste gets a little old so he cracks open a coke. He's halfway through the third bag when his stomach cramps, gurgling loudly from all the sugar and fizz. He shimmies a bit before unbuttoning his pants and continuing with the plan, telling himself it's all for the sake of revenge.

And again, he keeps going, lost in his own gluttony as he tries to pick up the pace before they get back. He's finally down to the last bag when he hears the van pull into the drive way and he bolts up, bloated gut groaning and sloshing. With clumsy hands he grabs the bags and bolts up to his room, locking the door, hiding the evidence and determined to finish the sixth bag. He can hear them in the living room and he's barely chewing as he shoves the candy down his throat, chugging coke to wash it all down.

With one last gulp, he's done it! But with it gone, and his gut too loud to ignore, he catches sight of himself in the mirror and he's positively potbellied. Unbuttoned jeans tight where his gut lays, his polo shirt having ridden up from where it once covered his deep set belly button, lips smeared with chocolate. He couldn't suck in if he tried 🙊 happy halloween!

Oh my god this is so funny, and my first thought is MIKE what did you DO? But it would have to be all of them, for him to target all their candy bags. (Not Erica’s, though. She’d legit slash his tires, and Eddie’s too for aiding and abetting.) But nothing genuinely hurtful, six parts because I like fluff and half a dozen because that would make this a pretty lame revenge. 

Oh! Oh I know… Added some cool (read: kinda nerdy) homemade Halloween costumes, because Eddie can sew and Steve’s is pretty easy, so it’s a little different from what you laid out. 5608 words! Thank you for the prompt, pal, this was a fun one. 

🔞

Always one thing after another with these goddamn kids, Steve swears. Sure, it’s not uncovering deadly monsters and government plots anymore… but they’re teenagers now, so it’s still always something. 

Today it’s wax fruit, a fake Oreo, and a plastic pickle snuck into his sandwich (that he had made, how the fuck…?) that looks like Mike must’ve stolen from one of Holly’s old play sets. 

And now, to top it all off, Dustin pretended to hurl and got him with fake vomit. 

It’s a rough April Fool’s day. 

But like, at least they aren’t actively making fun of him for the weight he’s gained since the Upside Down ordeals had ended for good. Everyone laughs just as hard when Mike gets Will with a wax apple, and that kid is still a string bean. 

“Mike needs to branch out from pranking people he has a crush on,” Eddie mutters darkly later that night, when it’s just the big kids having some good old-fashioned off duty babysitters time around the pool. 

Steve, confused, is about to ask what he means from behind his (fake pickle free) sandwich, but Robin coughs on a mouthful of beer so instead he has to pound on her back until some of it comes out her nose. 

“Jesus Steve, did you have to thump so hard?!”

“I thought you were choking!!” 

Robin sticks out her tongue and pushes him into the pool, and in his flailing attempts to avoid his fate Steve manages to snag Eddie and drag him in with him. 

Then Nancy sputters “Steve, again?” while laughing so hard that she can barely breathe. It reminds Steve of how he’d dragged her into the pool on purpose the first night they’d—

Steve’s cheeks flame immediately. He’s only actually told Robin how he feels (thinks he feels? is starting to feel?) about Eddie, but Nancy is smart and she knows him, he’s not shocked that she’s noticed. So he has to splash both her and Robin, obviously, before they give away anything. 

Unfortunately, Eddie takes the opportunity to latch onto him like a barnacle and pull him over, so Steve misses and douses Argyle instead, and—

—Steve still remembers, come October. He wants to get them back, but to do that successfully he’s going to need backup. Tough, with both Robin and Nancy off at college and Jon and Argyle back in California, but not impossible.

He swallows down his nerves and asks Eddie. No big deal, they hang out together practically every day these days. Practically best friends. Except… Steve hasn’t exactly told him the reason he doesn’t take girls out on dates anymore. 

“A revenge prank, you say,” Eddie murmurs, hands in front of his mouth and fingertips drumming together in intrigue. He’s sprawled in one of Steve’s kitchen chairs with one leg over a wooden arm like no one ever taught him how to sit like a human. It should be ungodly uncomfortable, but the dude looks perfectly at ease. Weirdo, Steve thinks affectionately. “I like it. Do you have anything in mind, or are we brainstorming?”

“Brainstorming,” Steve confirms, and they relocate to the living room and get to smoking about it over bowls of the spaghetti bolognese he just finished making. 

Eddie’s condition for helping is that they plan matching Halloween costumes, and since they both know the boys are pulling their old props out of closets and attics to suit up as the Ghostbusters again, it’s not difficult to decide on a theme. 

“No no no, we can’t be the Gatekeeper and the Keymaster,” Steve protests with a laugh, waving his hand through the smoke in the air. Since he’s currently holding the joint, the motion paints all new swirling shapes before them. 

“Why not?” Eddie squawks, and steals the joint back before it can ash anywhere unfortunate. 

“Because you have the hair to play Sigourney Weaver, but I could never pass for Rick Moranis. It totally wouldn’t work, man.”

“Dude, work with me here! What else are we going to be, Gozer and the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man?”

“I…” Steve pauses. He’s seen Ghostbusters, and remembers the Gozer the Gozarian costume from the end of the movie. Can he turn down an opportunity to see Eddie in a nude body stocking and heels? “… Yeah, okay.”

Apparently not. Can he survive it? Remains to be seen, but he’ll find out eventually. 

“Wait, really?” A disbelieving grin spreads across Eddie’s face, making both dimples pop. “You’d put on the little hat, sailor’s collar, and neckerchief for me, Stevie?”

And it’s not that Steve didn’t register the other half of the deal, but he doesn’t really mind. High as he is at the moment, his hand drifts to the belly he’s put on since high school—the munchies keep hitting him in waves and he’s already finished most of the would-be leftovers from the pot in the kitchen, so he’s a little bloated right now. He giggles and gives himself a pat. “I mean, why not? I’m in shape for it, aren’t I?”

The pat knocks loose a burp that sneaks up and out of his mouth as soon as he’s finished talking, but Eddie laughs so brightly that Steve forgets to be embarrassed. 

“I’ve got it,” Eddie gasps once he’s pulled himself together again. “Steve. Steve, you could be the one hundred foot marshmallow man summoned to destroy… their Halloween candy.”

“Destroy it?”

“Yes! It’ll be your revenge for all that fake food! I can be a distraction, while you confiscate all their hard-earned, tooth-rotting treats. They come back—oh no, they’ll weep!”

“Weep?” Steve snorts. Eddie rolls his eyes. 

“They’ll weep, Who stole our candy? Who could have done such a thing? With much gnashing of teeth. And you make your appearance, maybe smear some chocolate sauce around your mouth to really sell it, and say, That’s what you get for all that wax fruit.”

“I guess I could do that,” Steve says slowly. When Eddie offers him the joint again he accepts, taking a hit absently as he mulls it over. “Kinda mean though, stealing their candy. Waking all over the place to get that stuff is a lot of work.”

Eddie shrugs. “Get ‘em candy from the store. The full-size bars and shit. Then once they’ve learned their lesson, they can have that; everything’ll be fine and you get your own trick-and-treat stash. Oh—” he flails with excitement at another idea, and Steve can’t help the way it stirs butterflies in his already full stomach to see all that enthusiasm on his behalf—“but before you do, if Dustin gives you shit, you gotta say something like, What, are you so sad you could puke, Dusty-buns? That’ll show him.”

It makes Steve laugh, a warm feeling growing in his chest to know that they’re good enough friends for Eddie to come up with zany schemes on his behalf. He already knows he’ll go through with it, if Eddie is serious. 

Several weeks later it’s Halloween, and the plan is set. Everyone (minus Erica, who’s trick-or-treating with friends her own age instead) is coming over after making their rounds through the neighborhoods, and Eddie will take them all to the haunted corn maze at one of the local farms. Steve, meanwhile, will hide their candy and pretend to have eaten it by the time they return. 

It’s a great plan. Eddie comes over around sundown to do some pre-celebrating in the form of hotboxing Steve’s bedroom before all the kids in Hawkins start ringing the doorbell at any house with a front light on. 

And Steve feels like he’s been hit between the eyes with a brick when he opens the door to Eddie’s knocking, because wow. 

That is Eddie. With his hair up. Wearing a nude bodysuit covered in plastic baubles and white feathers. When he blinks, his eyelids are dark red with eyeshadow, just like Gozer’s eyes in the damn movie. And all Steve did was fish out a few elements of his old Scoops uniform—not the one he’d been interrogated by Russians in, he and Robin had burned both of those outfits after Starcourt—and put them on over a white sweater and white pants. 

Eddie leaps across the threshold, strutting around in… oh god, he is wearing heels. Steve has to look up slightly to meet his gaze, and it makes him want to lean in even more than he usually always lowkey does. 

“Gozer the Gozerian,” Eddie howls, baring his teeth in a feral grin as he continues to announce, “Gozer the Destructor, Volguus Zildrohar, the Traveller has come!” He jabs a finger towards Steve demandingly. “Choose, and perish!”

Somehow, Steve manages to keep his composure—maybe from all the practice he’s had. He puts his hands on his hips and raises his eyebrows. “I thought I’m the one destroying stuff tonight. Isn’t that the Marshmallow Man’s whole job?”

“Aw, Stevie,” Eddie starts, looking him up and down and… getting distracted for some reason. 

Steve glances down at himself, worried that maybe he’s gotten something about his sweater, but no. And he can’t see anything on his pants either, unless it’s just under where his belly pooches out over the top of his pants and makes it hard to see—he’s made his peace with that, but it makes him nervous now. “So, uh, are we gonna smoke or what, man? Do you even have pockets in that, um… outfit?”

Whatever it was that had snagged Eddie’s attention, he shakes himself out of it to shoot Steve an exaggeratedly put-upon pout. “Sir Stay Puft, you dare question a god? Of course I have pockets.” He reaches towards where the over-layer of fluffy decoration is thickest winding up his torso—the left side, where Steve knows his scars are also the most prominent, even after a year and a half. Turns out there’s a cleverly hidden zipper pouch beneath it, and Eddie produces two roll-ups and a zippo with a cheeky grin. 

So they’re definitely both decently stoned by the time the kids come by. The four original Party members are in their Ghostbuster suits, as expected: Will as Winston, Dustin as Egon, Lucas as Ray, and Mike as Venkman. El has her short but growing out hair curled and a guitar case slung across her back (presumably because no one had seen fit to let the kids borrow a cello, which was for the best). Max, in her wheelchair, is green from head to waist and styled to look like Slimer on top of the hotel maid cart from the movie. 

“Oh shit,” she crows when she registers Steve and Eddie’s costumes. “Okay, you nerds are definitely outnumbered in terms of ghost power now. Looks like I chose the right side.” 

The three of them exchange high fives, before Steve insists on getting pictures. “You know your mom will love it,” he says pointedly to Dustin. “And since she cooks me dinner more often than any of you—”

“I cook for you sometimes,” Eddie pipes up. Which is true. But mentioning Mrs. Henderson’s cooking has already reminded Steve’s high brain that he hasn’t eaten much since Eddie arrived, not wanting to get spills or crumbs on his glaringly white outfit, so Steve just waves him off, distracted. He feels his stomach give a quiet little grumble. 

“Yeah yeah, I know you do. I’m talking to the twerps.”

“We’re not—”

“Anyway,” Steve says loudly over Mike, clapping both hands together, “come on people, pictures! Everybody! Let’s go!”

They manage to get a few shots of the entire group using the timer feature on Steve’s parents’ fancy camera (that they’ve never used). He has no idea if any of them will be any good from the way he can hear Eddie muttering encouragement for everyone to strike weird poses right before the flash goes off, but at least they’ll be funny. Poses are much more encouraged for the rest of the photos, featuring the Ghostbusters battling their different ghostly opponents. El seems a little annoyed that she doesn’t have anything in particular to do, and thankfully no one suggests that she try to act out Dana possessed by Zuul—that’d be a little too close to home. 

So the last couple shots are of El fending off all three ghosts with her ‘cello’ case, delightedly shouting “Get away from her, you bitch,” no matter how many times the boys try to explain that yes that was Sigourney Weaver, but in a different movie. 

And then—

“Okay,” Eddie says loudly, clapping his hands and winking unsubtly at Steve, “who’s up for the haunted corn maze? Gozer is granting you lame little mortals a ride too and from, otherwise my associate Mr. Stay Puft here will be free to step on you with impunity—”

Ten chaotic minutes later, Steve is alone in a house full of candy and an empty stomach. He rubs absently at it while dumping all the kids’ candy bags out on the kitchen island counter. As he goes, he makes backup bags to send them home with—plain brown paper, the same ones he always used to take his lunches to school in—and matches every  fun-sized bar he dumps out with a full-sized bar he drops in. 

If he hesitates on a few of his favorite kinds of candy, no one has to know. Mostly, though, his thoughts are a mix of Claudia Henderson’s lasagna and wishing he were at the haunted corn maze with Eddie. He’s taken dates to the haunted maze before, it’s not that hard to find a dark corner where no one would realize it’s a guy he’s trying to woo, especially with the form-fitting Gozer costume thrown into the mix… But, well, they’ve spent a decent amount of extra time together while plotting this—read: getting high and congratulating each other on being so devious and smart—and that will have to do for now.

When alternate bags are all done, he grabs a Coke from the fridge and slurps at it while sorting the remaining candy into different bowls: one for just chocolate, one for nuts, one for nuggat, one for toffee, one for sour, and one for the rest. And then… he takes them all out to the living room couch, along with a new six-pack of Cokes. Fully aware of what he’s doing, but still floaty enough from the weed that he’s not really sure when he made the decision. 

The plan was to stash the stolen candy and share it with Eddie later, but he’s hungry. Probably won’t finish it all, anyway. There will still be some—and even if there’s not, he can always buy more. Doesn’t care right now, he’s hungry. He hasn’t eaten since, like… lunch. 

And, fine, yes, his weight has really gotten away from him, especially lately. He’s spent all summer whenever he wasn’t working lounging by the pool in his backyard, working on his annual tan while completely unbothered by danger beyond forgetting to apply enough sunscreen. Relaxing. Snacking. Drinking, sometimes beer but most commonly pop. He gets to do this now, he’s earned it, and he’s really enjoying himself. 

Steve settles himself amongst the candy bowls with a VHS in the player and a hand on his belly. It’s so soft and squishy, he usually ends up touching it one way or another these days; now, he feels all over the way it spills into his lap a little, kneading at it like a stress ball. With his other hand, he reaches for a Snickers bar and melts into the couch as it hits his tongue. 

Most of the trick-or-treat candy is small for each one to fit in his mouth in one go, and anything larger is a challenge that he meets with happy enthusiasm. 

After that initial bite, he starts with his least favorites, wolfing them down to get it over with and washing each mouthful down quickly with a Coke chaser. When he gets to the stuff he likes okay he lets himself slow down, still going at a steady pace but allowing himself to really taste and only popping a new Coke can as a palate cleanser when his mouth feels thick with chocolate and other layers of sweetness.

He’s no longer hungry at this point, but he’s not full, either. Maybe a little pinched though, so he sucks his fingers clean, shifts around a bit and leans until he can get at his waistband, and unbuttons his pants with a sigh. Stroking the red lines of his tummy as he reaches for a Three Musketeers, barely aware that it juts out a little more every time he frees it from his jeans these days. 

This is where he pauses to revive the tail end of the second joint he and Eddie had started just before the kids came over, sinking into the high and further into the couch with a pumpkin-shaped bowl balanced on his soft chest. He pours the little packets of M&Ms and Skittles into his mouth at the same time, just to see how it tastes, and it’s weird but he doesn’t hate it. Does that with the rest of them to try and decide if he likes the combo, and whines a little (he’ll never admit it) when they run out before he can reach a conclusion. The pumpkin-shaped bowl is empty. 

As Steve gets to his favorite candies (these in a regular white bowl, it matches his outfit) he picks up speed again. Somehow the movie is almost over, he’s hardly even watched it, and there’s only so much time left before Eddie’s van rumbles up into his driveaway again. He’s unwrapping the next two candies while still chewing, barely taking breaths between bites, trying to hurry and relishing every second of his impromptu and very unhealthy feast. 

He’s so enraptured with the unending parade of sweetness on his tongue, the constant chewing and swallowing and chewing and swallowing, that he almost misses the telltale sounds outside. (The movie is over, nothing of interest showing on the TV screen, when did that happen?) Frantic, he sweeps as many wrappers as he can out of his lap before going to stand up. It takes him a few tries, he’s so sunken into his spot, and when he finally manages it, red-faced and puffing and buzzing with adrenaline and sugar rush and the remaining high, he has to put a hand under his full, heavy belly in order to move around comfortably. Not quite cramping, not quite stuffed, just… a really satisfying stretch. 

But guess who doesn’t have time to enjoy it! God, he fucking hates being rushed these days. 

Eddie has a key. They’ll let themselves in, so all Steve has to do is get to his bedroom with the last of his stolen haul and two remaining Cokes from the six-pack. He gets there, barely, before he hears the front door swing open, hustling so fast up the stairs that the motion keeps jostling burps from between his chocolate-smeared lips. And then he’s in, sagging back against the closed door. Candy bowl clutched up by his chest and pops set on the floor nearby to get one open and bring it to his thirsty mouth. 

Okay, so maybe his exercise regimen has gotten a little bit lax lately. Maybe all he usually does is walk between his bedroom, the living room, the kitchen, and his car. Maybe he still sweats just as much despite getting around a lot less, because it costs him more effort than it used to…

No time to think about that, Steve tells himself dazedly. He needs to finish. The last of the candy is already unwrapped; he pushes the empty wrappers aside and grabs a handful, undiscriminating as he crams it in his mouth. One mouthful, then a second with hardly time to swallow, breathing hard through his nose. The treats act as a natural gag for his whimpers, fullness finally catching up to him, squirming on his padded ass with a muffled groan as the sensation sends a bolt of lighting straight south. Another handful, that’s basically the last of it, and he washes it down by chugging desperately at his Coke. Finishes it, claps a hand over his mouth to contain an inevitable belch—luckily, it’s covered by the start of indignant shouting from the living room. 

And he knows the scene he’s left. Trick-or-treat bags scattered haphazardly around the kitchen, empty. The living room couch littered with empty bowls and empty wrappers. Destruction at the hands (and mouth) of Mr. Stay Puft.

His jaw hurts, but there’s only a little bit left. Just a little more, and he finds that he wants it. Wants to finish the challenge… No, the prank, this is… to get the kids back… He feels so hazy between the pot and his overfull state, tipping the very last of the candy into his mouth and chewing with his mouth open, head tipped back against the door, exhausted. And then dutifully reaches for the last can of Coke, opens it, and pours that down his throat too. Breaks away from the lip of the can with a weak cry and another series of burps, even starting to hiccup which makes him whimper and clutch at himself, overheated and churning gut too loud to ignore and too tight in his skin, or maybe in his clothes, or both, he just—

“Steve?” Eddie calls through the door, sounding a little uncertain. “Karen just picked up half the kids and Joyce got the other half, I gave them all the replacement candy already. Are you… You good in there?”

“Eds,” he pants, groans, hiccups. “Je—hic—Jesus, I’m so.” He carefully lays both hands on either side of his distended belly in an attempt to soothe it. “I, I did it, I ate—urrrrrrp, fuck—ate all of it. Did it, Eddie. I’m so… Feel like I’m gonna explode…”

And he does, an overheated tingly sort of feeling washing through him in waves, his heartbeat pounding in his stomach and his ears and his dick. Not the first time it’s happened, the way he eats, but he’s gone all out tonight and the sensation of being ready to pop has seeped from his stomach to also encompass his hard-on. Part of him wants to keep going, but he doesn’t have anything else, couldn’t possibly fit any more down his throat, but he wants to do something.  Needs it. Needs…

“Eddie,” he groans, “he—hic—elp me.”

He can feel Eddie trying the door, but with Steve’s weight leaning against it there’s no way it’ll open. “Uh, I’m trying, I can’t…”

Laboriously, Steve kind of… rolls himself to one side, enough to haul himself onto his knees. He has to pause there, and again when he drops down onto his hands, and again after he crawls forward the barest few inches. Eddie tries the door again and it swings right into the meat of Steve’s ass, slapping against the tight denim and making Steve cry out, making him wobble and sway with a fresh wave of arousal that he absolutely didn’t expect but can’t help reveling in. He wants to drop down right there, he’s so tired and achingly horny, but knows instinctively that he can’t land on his belly like that. So he soldiers through, digging deep just to finish crawling to one side and slump against the plaid wallpaper instead. 

He breathes shallowly and waits for Eddie to come help him. 

The first look Eddie gets of Steve makes his eyes damn near pop out of his skull. Steve looks positively pot-bellied, spilling over his unbuttoned, unzipped pants like that, his belly button half uncovered and deep. Couldn’t suck in if he tried. He has chocolate and traces of candy-coating color all over his face and smeared on his sweater from all the times he’d thought he’d sucked his fingers clean but not quite, rubbing whatever was still on them into the fluffy knit. Messy, telling smudges at the bottom hem where he’d absently tried to pull the shirt down throughout his binge. It didn’t work; there’s a chocolate-smudged lip of far more than a mere muffin top bulging out the bottom, resting on his thighs. Jesus H. Christ, it almost looks like he’s doubled in size since Eddie last saw him a few hours ago, was there really that much candy in the kids’ bags?!

Eddie’s shoe knocks against an empty can as he enters the room, sending it spinning, and he supposes that’s his answer. It must be the combined efforts of candy and carbonated syrup water that have Steve so bloated, fizzing away in there. 

When he’d first walked in a few hours ago and seen Steve in costume, his breath had caught in his throat mid sentence. Super embarrassing, but what was he supposed to do? One minute they’d been talking about costumes, so stoned and loose-tongued that Eddie had suggested they be the goddamned Gatekeeper and Keymaster—characters that had canonically fucked, just left of onscreen! Next, it was weeks later (and he hadn’t actually blacked out all the time in between, it just felt that way for a second) and his current best friend and longtime crush opened the door in a tight sweater and pants that looked painted on, wearing a jaunty little hat atop his magnificent head of hair. The words well hello there sailor had lined up on his tongue like pirates ready to walk the plank. He’d had to think very hard about how many times he’d accidentally stabbed himself with a needle while sewing the ‘ghostly’ accents onto his costume, just to avoid popping a boner right there in Steve’s foyer. 

There’s just so much of Steve these days. So round, and all of his clothes perpetually tight. And Eddie’s been jerking off to the thought of this happening ever since they came up with this plan, imagining how the siren call of all that candy might make Steve’s mouth water, get his stomach rumbling, make him think that it wouldn’t hurt to have just one then taking another and another and another, insatiable… He just hadn’t expected it to actually happen.

“Eddie,” Steve groans again, looking up at him with pleading, bloodshot eyes. “I’m so full, n-need your help.”

“What can I do?” He drops down into a crouch in front of him immediately. “I’m right here, Stevie. What do you need, sweetheart?”

Okay, he needs to cool it with the pet names. Luckily Steve is already pawing at himself, looking so blazed he might not have even heard. “M’too, m’too hot Eds. Gotta get this off, get… off…”

Jesus H. Christ. 

So Eddie helps him out of the sailor collar and no longer pristine sweater. He tries not to stare but his eyes go wide when he realizes how much it was compressing. Steve groans in relief as it comes off and his entire upper half seems to puff out a little bit more, all covered in thick chest hair. Eddie wants to dig his fingers into it, into all of it, but he has to stay focused. 

Next are the pants, which Steve whines for Eddie to do and then whines more as he’s forced to lift his heavy ass, rock back and forth as Eddie drags the unforgiving fabric down, huffing and puffing between hiccups and burps and mewls of discomfort. Eddie’s dick is about to burst off and start running laps around the room for fuck’s sake, his hands are shaking he wants to touch so badly. Soothe away the stomach ache, tell him how amazing he did, finishing all that candy. Murmur in his ear, ask if that makes the revenge so much sweeter…

To make matters worse, the jeans take Steve’s boxers with them, elastic in the waistband already stretched to the point of uselessness, and Eddie can see so much. Too much, for his composure, as Steve’s cock slaps up against the underside of his belly. 

They both moan at that and Steve turns his head to look at Eddie full on with reddened eyes, tremors running through him that only give him more tantalizing friction against his hairy gut and prompt his hips to rock faster. He’s so blissed out that he doesn’t even break eye contact, just reaches blindly to grab Eddie’s hand and guides it down between his legs, rings and all, where he’s already slippery with precome and sweat and half sliding down the wall to help with holding his own belly out of the way. 

“Holy shit,” Eddie breathes, captivated by the desperate heat in Steve’s gaze. He strokes, reverent but quick. “Holy shit, holy shit Stevie…”

“Eddie,” Steve moans. His eyes roll back, his entire head going with them to thunk against the wall. “L-like that, fuuuck—hic—Oh god, keep, keep doing that, more, Eds, more, I—”

Eddie dives forward and shuts him up with a desperate kiss. He already knows that Steve is going to cause him to ruin this damn Gozer costume he worked so hard on—in the hopes of impressing Steve, actually. Which he must have done, from the way Steve kisses back like he wants to devour him, like even after all that candy Eddie is the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted and never wants to be without again. 

Someone has definitely been impressed, and maybe Eddie will have to revisit the possibility of a god or something when he can think again because kissing Steve is heaven. Just… absolutely worth all the pining, even if it never happens again. 

Then Steve goes almost completely slack, breaking the kiss with a wail as he comes in thick, pulsing ropes over Eddie’s fist. His only movements are his legs (thick, biteable, trembling so hard to either side of Eddie’s hips they fall only to jerk up in little spasms as his toes curl) and his mouth (plush lips bitten and messy, twisting into shapes of wordless ecstasy). 

And Eddie has seen Steve relax, seen him indulge… seen him eat steadily through a large spread of snacks while lounging by the pool all summer in a Speedo with a sleepy, content look on his face, but this is the first time he’s really seen him let go. Lost in pure bliss. 

He’s barely thinking when he brings his come-slick hand up, thumbing through the chocolate in the corner of Steve’s mouth before sinking the digit inside. Coming himself, the instant after Steve eagerly closes around it and sucks, licks, drools all over his hand to get it all. Shuddering harder when Steve grips weakly at his wrist and continues laving over each finger one by one, slow but thorough, eyes open and dazed but tracking Eddie’s face. 

Until they’re both still, other than Steve letting out the occasional drowsy hiccup. Eddie’s fingers smooth over his parted lips, receiving faint kitten licks now and then as though Steve just can’t help himself. His other hand cradles the side of Steve’s bulging fullness, gentle against the duality of soft and immovable, in awe that he gets to touch. A part of him is still reeling that this happened at all, that he gets to see Steve so sated and sleepy and bare—except for one sock that’s managed to stay on his foot. 

Jesus H. Christ. Steve’s naked and they’re in his bedroom and they didn’t even make it to the bed.

“Do you, um. Want to lay down?” Eddie whispers. He can feel his face growing hot from the lameness of that question… Steve is practically on his back where he is, enough that he might not be able to see his feet. 

Steve nips at his pointer finger, blinking lazily with a little groan of contentment. “Does that mean I have to move,” he mumbles, but gamely begins to sit up. Eddie, from his crouch, shifts immediately to the side to help him, supports Steve’s back as he huffs his way towards semi-upright against the wall. “Urp—mm, thanks Eds.”

“No problem.” And Eddie doesn’t know why he’s whispering like he’s in a fucking library instead of kneeling in Steve Harrington’s bedroom with jizz sticky and cooling on the inside of his fucking body suit, but he doesn’t want to break whatever spell or dream that’s allowed this to happen. Wants to hold onto Steve a little bit longer, coaxing out little groans of contentment through belly rubs. 

Steve gives Eddie the sweetest smile, sleepy and sated. “Felt so good. Still feels good. Did you…” A flicker of uncertainty crosses his face. “Was it good? Was I good?”

And Eddie just can’t let that doubt linger another second. “You were perfect, sweetheart,” he replies immediately, rubbing slow, soothing stripes along Steve’s side. “Fucking amazing. Move over, Mona Lisa, there’s a new masterpiece in town and his name is Steve Harrington.”

That earns him a laugh, cut off quickly when Steve clutches at his belly with a groan. “O-overdid it. Mm… ‘S fine, ‘s just… a lot.”

“Certainly looks like it.” He leans forward and presses a kiss just north of Steve’s belly button, can’t help cradling it with both hands and rubbing soothingly. “Let’s get you up, okay? Get you in bed.”

Soon enough Eddie has him cleaned up and tucked in. 

“Stay?” Steve sighs, already more than half asleep. 

So Eddie shucks his costume and climbs under the covers behind him, chuckling as Steve sluggishly reaches back and tugs Eddie’s arm over himself, demanding to be snuggled. 

And that’s more or less how they wake up in the morning. 

“Eddie,” Steve says through a yawn, subtly rubbing his naked ass back against Eddie’s naked front. There’s a teasing note in his voice as he continues, “I’m hungry.”

Secure now in the knowledge that this is neither a dream nor some kind of trick, it’s a morning treat that Eddie just can’t resist.

Permanent tag list (ask to be added): @hotluncheddie @lawrencebshoggoth @tangerinesteve @sofadofax

[13as07]

Tiggie #1

(Itachi Uchiha)

[Artwork is not mine! Credit to StringDman94]

Requested by: Anonymous

Word Count: 3,847

Warnings and/or Pre-Notes:

The start is a bit different than your request. I couldn't think of a way to write it how you asked.

Also, this is going to be a two parter; maybe a three parter. Sorry!!!

———————————————————————

     I'm hunched over on the ground, blood dripping from my mouth as I gasp for air. Why am I here again? Why are we in the Land of Demons? Where are my squad mates? Where's Captain?

     "I'm sorry," the older lady whispers, dipping her fingers into her eye sockets, popping her eyes out, blood trickling from the wounds she caused herself. The sight makes me dry heave, my body not knowing if I should keep panting for breath or heaving. "But there needs to be a backup plan, just in case Moryo and Shion both die. Just in case Shisui does not succeed. My home village will be safe, because of you."

     "Shisui?" I ask between two or three heaves. "Who's Shisui?"

     "Do not worry child, you will have enough to be anxious about later in life," the empty-eyed woman coos, taking slow but wide steps towards me. "I am gifting you my dojutsu. You shall see the future of all. You will save us all, will save my Village."

     "What? What are you talking about?" I shriek, crawling away from her, the aches of my body and the broken leg buried under my skin making it difficult to move away from her.

     I fail at my attempt to escape the woman. She settles in front of me, kneeling before shoving her eyes into me. I scream from the pain, my eyes feeling like they're on fire from her touch. "You will save the great nations," she tells me, backing away. My eyes sting as I open them, blood trickling down my cheeks, a mirror image of the person in front of me. "You will save my Village."

     The nightmare - more so, the memory - comes to an end when I shoot up in bed, my chest pumping with the same fear I felt a couple of weeks ago. When the white of the hospital walls registers I'm able to calm down a bit, my heart still pounding in my chest.

"Hey, it's okay," the honey voice of my squad captain says, tugging my eyes to the side of my hospital bed. Sitting in all his glory is the Dog, who I've nicknamed doggie, eyes squinted a bit, cutting off some of the glow from his sharingan. "Another nightmare?"

"Ya," I whisper, letting my head fall to my hands so I can rub my eyes.

"Well I have some good news," he mutters, adding a lightweight to my lap. "We figured out what's going on with your eyes."

"We?" I ask, rubbing my eyes once more before letting them open. Sitting in my lap is a folder, one in which I flip open instantly.

"Let's just say the Uchiha clan dislikes me even more now," he utters, sulking in the fluffy chair that engulfs the older boy, making the other file in his lap slip a bit. He's only three years older, but sometimes it feels like Doggie is thirty going on fifteen.

My eyes scan over the first page of the paperwork, making them hurt from being used. The pain has gone down in recent weeks but it still hurts to use the basic sense of mine. "Itachi Uchiha is why my eyes are messed up?" I tease, scanning over the file of my old classmate.

Itachi and I graduated at the same time, the boy being a year younger than me. Itachi went straight into being an active Shinobi, mentored under one of his own. I did too, but unlike Itachi, in the last couple of months, I've been working for the Black Ops. After graduation our paths have crossed a few times but not enough to keep up with each other.

"What?" Dog asks, leaning forward to scan the file in my lap. "My bad, wrong file," he grumbles, taking the folder from me and replacing it with the one that tried to fall from his lap.

"Why do you have Itachi's file?" I mumble, snapping open the correct file and scanning the words covering the first page.

"I'm recommending him as a recruit," he whispers, eyes tearing away from me to stare out the window.

"Is that what Fugaku wanted in return for information on the dojutsu? His son getting a position in the Anbus?" I ask, glancing at my captain before I flip the page to continue reading.

Doggie shrugs before looking back at me. "It's not my decision but if Fugaku wants me to mention it to the Hokage it's easy work for the payout. Why? What do you know about Itachi?"

     "Not a lot. We graduated at the same time but he was a year below me. He was pretty quiet, didn't talk much, didn't have many friends either."

     "Seems to be a qualification," Dog mumbles, eyes back out the window.

     "I guess so. He was my favorite person at the academy though," I continue, using our talk to help with the anxieties that are coming along with this 'dojutsu' thing stuck in me. "He was always nice when we talked and we usually ate together since he tended to freak people out and Genma had everyone at the academy in a fearful chokehold. Though, it was more me talking and him nodding along. Maybe when I tell him that I'm a fortune teller I'll finally get him to laugh."

     Doggie lets out an airy chuckle, eyes flickering back toward me. "Telling the future will be pretty cool. We'll just have to wait and see how your dojutsu acts. Different ones see different parts of the future."

"Talk about an upgraded sharingan." That gets an actual laugh out of the captain, putting some of my nerves at ease. I'm alive and my squad is alive, that's what matters. "Do you think Lord Third is going to recruit Itachi?"

"Probably."

"Damn, there goes my youngest anbu trophy." Another chuckle, this one airy again. Captain is back to having his walls up.

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"I'm just saying, it wouldn't be a bad idea to start looking for a partner," Genma mumbles for the hundredth time, slowly walking the tree path he's taken me down.

He's decided to abuse his power as my guardian and signed me out of the hospital for a stroll through the woods, about 5 miles out of the radar the hospital 'struggle suggests' patience stay in when they're on family leave.

"I'm too young for that," I counter, waddling around on my crutches, making sure not to trip or put too much pressure on my leg.

Genma's eyes flicker towards me, as protective as ever as I slowly weave around the fallen branches and the surfaced roots of the forest. "I'm not saying get married. I'm not even saying get a boyfriend, or a girlfriend if you're into that. Actually, no dating, period. Just... a nice friend."

"Oh, so now you're calling me a friendless loser," I tease, eyes locked on the ground, set on not tripping and proving my older brother wrong. He insisted on carrying me through the forest because 'you're going to trip over something and hurt yourself worse'. Obviously, I'm not being carried so this is my time to prove him wrong.

"I mean... ya," he utters, stopping his movements as I work my way around a big branch. "You don't do anything except work. I want you to have a support system when I die."

"If," I correct, struggling a bit not to snag in the brush or the tree branch. Why did Genma decide a stroll in the woods was a good idea?

"If," he sighs, eyes glancing around the trees. "I don't want you to be alone if I die on a mission. I have friends, I have people to emotionally support me if something happens to you. You don't. That terrifies me more than anything in the world - dear Lord, let me help you," Genma groans, cutting himself off when my crutch gets caught, making me wobble a bit.

     His arms wrap around me, set on clinging to my hips to help steady me. When Genma gets a hold of me, a light flickers, coating my sights in a bright white before evening out again. Everything is the same, the forest is still present, my crutches still tucked under my arms, and the weight of Genma's hands on me.

     Well, all is the same until there are movements in the trees. "Genma," I call, leaning into him, my back bumping into his chest.

     "Ya?"

     "Did you hear that?"

     "Hear what?"

     There's more wrestling of the brush before four mute-colored - monsters? - jump out from the trees. My eyes trail over the spider-looking man with six arms, quickly trailing down the line of - rope waisted? - monsters.

     "Gen - " I start, turning my head to look back at him, but there's no Genma to be found.

     "What the hell is up with your eyes? Why are they purple?" My brother's voice rings out, followed by the feeling of fingertips brushing across my cheek.

     "Gemma?!" I scream, pulling back from the mystery voice and touches. I trip over the root I was trying to get around, falling flat on the ground.

     What the hell is going on? What do I do? What's up with the cult-looking monsters? What's with the damn ghost of my brother's voice? "Genma!" I yell again, struggling to get to my feet, pain shooting up my leg with the weight of my body being pressed into it prematurely. "I need you. This isn't funny."

     "I'm right here. Why are you freaking out? We're fine, stop freaking out, and get off your leg. You're going to set your healing back," the void lectures, sticks snapping as it moves closer.

     "Genma!" I yell again, high-tailing away from the man, the stitches in my leg giving way and making blood and a new ache leak down my leg as I run. It's probably not the best idea to run toward the herd of scary mutants but at least they're an enemy I can see.

     "Stop running away from me, you're hurting yourself. Come here!" The void continues to yell, the sound of snapping sticks increasing as it chases after me.

     Soft thumps fill the air as I head towards the four monsters, making me stall in my movements. I slowly turn around, being met with the sight of Raido, one of my older brother's coworkers. "Raido!" I yelp, heading towards him until I catch a glimpse of the shinobi by his side. "Genma!" I almost cry, turning directions to head toward my bandana-wearing jerk of a brother. "You can't just leave me like that!" I continue to complain, angry and frightened tears running down my face as I reach my arms out towards him.

     When my hands touch him, he puffs away, leaving behind a cloud of smoke before the bright white light flashes across my senses for the second time. "Genma!" I shriek again, hands shooting up to rub the pain of the light out of my eyes.

     "I'm right here, why are you yelling?" My brother's voice rings out again. Hands gripping my shoulders and before one jumps down to press on my busted stitches. "What is going on with you?"

     I'm shaken with his free hand, making my hands fall away from my eyes. "Genma!" I cry again, the sight of my brother falling into view again. I lunge forward, wrapping my arms around him and burying my face into his neck.

     "Hey," he coos, rubbing his hand up and down my back. "We're okay. Please calm down, you're going to give yourself a panic attack. You are fine, you are safe, you are loved. Repeat it, Peanut."

"I... I'm fine, I am... I am safe, and... and I am loved," I whisper back between hiccups. I continue repeating it as Genma picks me up, pain-dipped knives stabbing along my torn-up leg.

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"Are you still in reality?" Doggie asks for the hundredth time, his fingers ghosting around my wrist as he leads me toward the locker room. This has become my captain's new thing, asking me if I'm having a 'flash of the future' as Genma calls it.

It's been almost two months since my first 'flash of the future', with a handful more happening since then. Curtsey of a lot of testing and educated guesses, the Leaf Council has concluded two things; One, there's no way to control it, and Two, the person I'm touching is what fuels it. No touching, no 'flash of the future'.

The council has also decided I'll continue working with the anbus since, and I'm quoting Lord Danzo, 'What use is it protecting a fortune teller that can't explain the future, let alone control her tellings?'. Fine by me, it's not always the best thing to stand out in our village, something my brother and I know all too well.

     Since the village elders think it's best to not focus on my lovely new eyes, they're keeping the knowledge of it under wraps as much as possible. Aka, everyone in the village is whispering about it but the elders, Genma, and myself aren't allowed to confirm or deny any questions.

"Nope, totally not," I mutter, shifting away from my captain. I don't like being coddled, and that's what Kakashi is trying to do right now. It's annoying.

"Oh ya? Tell what you see, Oh Wise One," he teases back, the faintest of smiles under his mask.

"I see... you getting your head shoved into a locker if you keep babying me," I answer, pausing for dramatic effect.

"You're not funny," the captain mumbles, opening the door for me, his hand motioning me inside. I do a little curtsy, fluffing out a fake dress before walking through the door. "Listen up," Captain booms, following me into the locker room. "Let's all welcome, Tiggie back!" He yells, playing on the tiger mask I was assigned during orientation.

"Welcome back, Tiger!"

"How are you feeling?"

"Are you going on the mission today?"

Different questions and greetings are thrown my way as I walk through the crowded place, the occasional person ruffling my hair or patting my back.

     "Hey, Tiger!" The girl known as 'Squirrel' says, greeting me as I settle by my locker. I'm locker eleven-A and she's locker ten-A, so I guess that makes us locker bodies. "Did you hear the news?"

     "What news?" I ask, focusing on turning my key in the lock and popping the wooden door open.

     "There's a new boy in our squad. He's called Weasel. Rumor has it he's younger than you."

     "Oh ya?" I mutter, tugging on my hair so I can tie it up before mission reports are given.

     Squirrel hums a yes, switching from my left to my right on repeat. "He got locker twelve-A so you two are locker buddies."

     "Jealous, Squirly? Worried the Weasel is going to take me from you?" I ask, glancing at my roots in the mirror I've hung in my locker. Flat, perfect.

     She giggles, finally opening her locker to get ready. "He's cute. The mysterious, dark shaded, gives off morally grey vibes, kind of cute."

     "If he's younger than me, he's too young for you," I tease, tugging my shirt off. It's half true, Squirrel is fourteen, which I only know because we went through orientation together. "Besides you have a boyfriend. A boyfriend that isn't anything like this 'morally grey' Weasel person you're talking about."

     "That's an upgrade from the 'emo boy' nickname you usually use," a soft voice says from behind me. I turn around to see who's talking, my eyes graced with my academy friend: Itachi Uchahi.

     My eyes widen a bit as a smile cracks across my face. I guess Fugaku got what he wanted. "Hey, It - er - Weasel," I greet, cutting myself off from using his real name.

     "Hello....?" He asks, tilting his head slightly to try and catch a glimpse of my mask.

     "Tiger, but the Captain calls me Tiggie."

     "Tiggie?" He repeats, focusing back on me. "That's... cute," Itachi mutters, a soft smile on his lips before he turns away from me.

     I suck my cheek in, chewing on it as I turn my focus away too, sliding back into a work mindset. The heat crawling across my face makes it hard to stay focused though.

     Squirrel wiggles closer to me, hands holding my shoulders as she whispers. "I think the Weasel likes you. The only question is how do you two know each other?"

     "Whatever," I mutter, rolling my shoulders to shake her hands off of me. "You're not allowed to ask non-work questions."

     "You're no fun, Tiggie," she teases, making her voice airy when she says my nickname.

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"I told your brother I'd walk you home!" The captain yells at me, rushing to change out of his uniform as I head toward the door.

     "I'm more than capable of walking myself home, Doggie," I mutter, rolling my eyes at him.

     "Doggie?" Itachi's voice pipes up from next to me, startling me. I jerk away from the sound, turning my head towards the Uchahi boy. "Why do you call the captain doggie?"

"Because he calls me Tiggie."

He hums and another soft smile shoots my way. "How about I walk you home, Tiger? Would that be alright?" He asks, turning toward Captain for his second question.

Dog stalls in his movements, blinking slowly as he looks between the two of us. "I guess that's fine. I don't think he will care... maybe. Probably not."

"He won't," Itachi says, grabbing my wrist before walking out of the locker room.

I stroll after him, flickering my eyes around anywhere but the boy dragging me behind him. "My brother hates you," I mutter, trying to push down the blush threatening to climb up my face again. "He threatened to shove a kunai down your throat last time he saw you."

"That's because your brother has an unhealthy attachment to you and an even more unhealthy protectiveness over you," Itachi mutters, tugging me forward so we're side by side instead of me trailing behind him while we climb down the stairs. "Besides, your brother only threatened to stab me because I kissed your cheek at graduation. I won't be doing that in front of him again ." In front of him again. In front of him... again.

The words tumble around my head, making me lose my battle with the heat that's been threatening to climb across my face. "Why are you walking me home?" I murmur, blinking my eyes as I'm led outside into the natural light.

"Because your brother is unhealthily protective. He would tear the Captain a new one if you walked yourself home."

"Is that the only reason you're walking me home?"

"Yes." Damn, I guess Squirrel was wrong. Oh well. "You will make me a snack when we get to your home. It is courtesy."

Well, I guess Itachi never grew out of his demanding personality... or bluntness. "What do you want me to make?"

     "I don't care," he mutters, his thumb rolling over the veins of my wrist. It was probably an accident but I can't help but smile at the soft touch.

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"You have to tell me how the Weasel and you know each other," Squirrel whisper-yells at me, her eyes flickering from me to Itachi who's waiting by the door to walk me home for the third week in a row.

"You're not allowed to ask non-worker questions," I remind her for the hundredth time today, shifting stuff around in my locker in search of my shirt. It couldn't have gotten that far away.

"Technically it is a work question, it just so happens to have a not work answer," she counters, eyes still racing back and forth. "Besides, everyone has kind of figured out you guys knew each other before the Anbus."

"Ya?" I grumble, finally finding my shirt and tugging it over my head.

"Ya, it's pretty obvious. I wish Kanji would walk me home every day. It would be so cute!"

"Just ask him too," I tell her, rolling my eyes at the romantic gushing about her boyfriend again.

"I don't want to have to ask him. I want him to want to, you know? Like Weasel is with you. He wants to walk you home so he waits for you every day."

"Weasel walks me home so my brother doesn't have a meltdown," I shortly explain, closing my locker and making sure it locks.

"If it was just about your smokin' hot, high-ranked brother, he wouldn't do it every day."

"I think I just throw up a little bit," I mutter, fake gagging as I walk away from my locker mate. "Stop trying to hit on my brother!" I yell at her over my shoulder, rolling my eyes before settling them on Itachi. Maybe Squirrel is right. If Itachi didn't want to walk me home he'd only fill in the spot when the Captain is busy. Or maybe he took my brother's empty threat to heart. Who knows?

"Stop having a hot brother!" She yells back, a string of laughs following her sentence.

     "Are you ready to go, Tiggie?" He asks, looking at me with his usual intensity. I swear Itachi always looks like he's trying to set stuff on fire with his eyes. It's a weird thought to have, especially since his clan specializes in fire jutsus.

     "If you are," I answer, getting my wrist grabbed like the new usual seems to be. When Itachi's fingers press against my wrist, feeling my heartbeat, he starts tugging me behind me, another new usual. "You do know that I know the path home, right?"

     "I do. You're not going home today."

     "I'm not?"

     "You're not," he mutters, slowing his pace a bit when he starts leading me down the stairs. "You are coming to my home today. My mother wants you to join us for dinner. I told her you would."

"You didn't say anything about a dinner with your parents to me. Why am I having dinner with your parents?" I point out, panic tingling up my spine.

I'm not dressed for a dinner party. I'm not prepared to meet Itachi's parents. I don't even know why I'm meeting them. How is Genma going to react when I tell him? Given, he's away on a mission and won't be home until tomorrow, but still. He's going to lose his mind when he finds out when Raido tells him. Oh Lord, how's Raido going to react when I show up at home later than expected?

"I'm telling you right now. Is that not good enough?"

"What if I had plans after our mission?"

"You would cancel them, but you don't have plans, so why worry about a hypothetical situation?" Itachi asks, opening the front door before using his hold to pull me out of it, quickly following behind. "My parents like to know who my friends are. They know Shisui, and now they want to know you. So, you are coming to dinner."

"Ah, okay."

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