#instead you must go through his secretary | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

alygator77 · 5 months ago

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ᰔᩚ motherhood and matrimony I ch 5 ᰔᩚ

ꨄ︎ pairing. au ceo! satoru gojo x single mom secretary fem! reader

ꨄ summary. satoru gojo, the arrogant and irresistible heir to a billion-dollar corporation and the son of your boss, the ceo... but when satoru’s father dies unexpectedly, his inheritance hinges on a stipulation: he must marry and have a child, but the child doesn't necessarily have to be his, right? together, you strike a deal: a fake marriage that promises financial stability for you and corporate control for him. as the lines between business and emotion blur, you must decide if your partnership is purely contractual or if it could evolve into something real.

ꨄ︎ warnings/tags. 18+ MDNI, nsfw, enemies to lovers, opposites attract, fake marriage, slow burn, smut, fluff, bit of angst, reader is single mom who recently broke off her engagement, satoru being a cute step dad, naoya is your crappy ex, some triggers of domestic abuse (emotional abuse but it can be a bit suggestive/interpreted as physical, from naoya not satoru)

ꨄ words: 8.3k

ꨄ a/n. here we go guys 🫣 idk what to even say, so i'll see ya'll at the bottom. enjoy♡

ꨄ taglist: closed (ao3)

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ch 5 // a leap of faith

You stare out the window of Satoru’s limousine, the city lights blurring into streaks of color as the world rushes by—but your thoughts are too loud to let you fully take it in.

You’d think the upcoming interview at the gala would be your primary concern, considering that’s where you’re currently headed, but instead, your mind is trapped in a loop��the memory of Satoru’s phone call.

Do you really know him at all?

The bone chilling temper you overheard has left you questioning everything, only heightening your doubts in him.

There was something in his voice that you can’t shake—a bite that fills you with fear, a kind of fear that whispers in the back of your mind, warning that one day his icy detachment could be directed at you the moment you fail him.

Satoru sits across from you in the luxurious backseat, but despite the close proximity, it feels as though a vast distance separates you now—a chasm of unspoken thoughts and lingering doubts.

And you—so consumed by the questions swirling in your mind—fail to notice that Satoru is watching you—his gaze steady, searching, as if he’s trying to read something in your expression.

“You’ve been awfully quiet today,” he observes, “Is everything okay?”

You stiffen, pulse quickening.

Fuck.

Can he see right through you? Does he know about the doubts gnawing at you, the secrets you’ve been keeping?

His eyes search your face for something you’re not ready to reveal, and your defenses go up instinctively.

“I’m fine,” you blurt out, but the moment the words leave your lips, you inwardly cringe, the tonality of your voice holding an unintentional harshness.

Well, shit… it wasn’t meant to come out like that. But it did.

He raises an eyebrow at you.

“Uh…you sure?”

“Yes,” you counter abruptly, too abruptly, and your gaze darts away from his as if meeting his eyes might unravel the carefully constructed facade you’re desperately clinging to.

You feel the anxiety begin to bubble, threatening to spill over, and as your eyes fix on the window, you watch the world blur by, anything to avoid the weight of his scrutiny.

But Satoru’s sapphire eyes remain steady, unwavering. He rakes a hand through his tousled white hair and lets out a soft sigh, laced with a quiet frustration.

“You know… we’ve been living together for a while now,” his tone gentle, yet probing, “I think I can pick up when something’s up. You’re not as good at hiding it as you think. I mean, you tried to put the TV remote in the fridge this morning.”

A flush of embarrassment colors your cheeks.

Okay…rude, why does he have to call you out like that? Yeah sure, you have been out of it today—but how can you not be? The pressure you’re feeling is unbearable.

You let out a small, forced laugh, trying to brush it off, but there’s a hint of defensiveness in your tone.

“Uhh, it’s called ‘mom brain,’ Satoru.”

He furrows his brow, his expression softening even as a playful grin tugs at the corners of his mouth.

“Mom brain? What the heck is that?”

Your eyes meet his for a brief moment, and in that split second, you catch a glimpse of the genuine concern lurking behind his playful facade. Your heart drops at the sight, a pang of guilt twisting in your chest.

Dammit, why does he have to look at you like that?

Why does he have to make this so much harder?

The frustration bubbles up inside you, not just at the situation, but at him—at the whole confusing mess that’s become your life. You don’t know what to believe anymore, and that uncertainty gnaws at you, leaving you feeling raw and exposed.

You break eye contact, looking away from him yet again, and an exasperated sigh escapes your lips.

“It’s what happens when you’re a mom and you’ve got a million things on your mind at once. Sometimes, your brain just… short circuits. It’s like, where did I put the keys? Oh, they’re in the fridge next to the remote. No big deal.”

Satoru chuckles, the sound low and warm. For a moment, it feels like the tension might ease.

“Sounds like a pretty convenient excuse to me,” he remarks playfully, but as his voice softens, the teasing edge gives way to genuine concern.

His gaze turns serious as his eyes search yours, intent and piercing, as if he’s trying to see past the walls you’ve put up.

“Mom brain or not… I know you, y/n. And I know when something’s really bothering you.”

Double fuck.

There’s a moment of panic, a fear that he might see right through you. The truth you’ve been burying deep inside threatens to surface, and the pressure of keeping it hidden feels suffocating.

You can’t let him see it. You can’t let him know.

“I’m…I’m just nervous about the interview,” you blurt out, the words tumbling from your lips in a desperate attempt to deflect, to steer him away from the dark, treacherous waters he’s unknowingly wading into.

But the excuse feels flimsy, like a poorly constructed lie that could crumble under the slightest scrutiny—and so you reach deep within yourself, trying to find a way to make it more believable.

“Not everyone can be like you Satoru, all carefree with no worries in the world. Must be nice.”

The moment the words escape, you feel them slicing through the air, sharp and jagged, and you know you’ve made a mistake. Regret twists in your gut like a knife, its cold blade cutting deep as you realize the bitterness laced in your voice, bitterness that surprises even you.

Triple fuck.

What the hell are you doing? Why are you attacking him like this?

The resentment, the fear, the overwhelming sense of inadequacy—all of it comes crashing to the surface, bubbling over before you can shove it back down where it belongs.

Great. Now you’re lashing out, emotions spiraling out of control, your composure slipping through your fingers like sand.

You can practically see the words hanging in the air between you, ugly and heavy, and the guilt that follows is instant, a crushing weight on your chest.

God, get it together.

For a moment, Satoru says nothing, his expression unreadable. You can’t tell if he’s angry, hurt, or simply trying to process your outburst.

You bite your lip, a nervous habit you’ve never been able to shake, and you force yourself to look away. Satoru does the same, both of your eyes falling yet again on the familiar blurred scenery outside the window, searching for answers that aren’t there.

The silence stretches, thick with tension, until finally, Satoru shifts across from you. He turns his head just enough that you catch the movement out of the corner of your eye, and you force yourself to glance back at him.

The corners of his mouth twitch upward, but there’s no humor in the gesture, just a faint, almost imperceptible sadness.

“You think I don’t worry?” he murmurs, voice so quiet you almost don’t catch it.

The rawness in his tone cuts through you like a blade, slicing through the walls you’ve built around your heart.

You turn to face him fully, really looking at him, and for the first time, you notice the subtle signs of weariness etched into his features—the shadows beneath his eyes, darker and more pronounced than you remember, the way the light in his eyes seems… dimmed, like a flame that’s burning too low.

Has he always looked this… tired? Or is it only now that you’re seeing it?

“Well…you’re always so confident and composed. It’s hard to even imagine you worrying,” you admit softly, and the defensiveness that had been there moments ago slips away like water through your fingers. “You’re able to handle all this with such ease. It’s like… nothing ever phases you.”

Satoru lets out a soft, almost bitter chuckle, the sound tinged with disbelief, as if your words are some kind of cruel joke.

“Yeah, that’s the thing, isn’t it?” he shakes his head slightly, “It’s not that I don’t worry. It’s that I can’t show it. People expect me to be… well, this,” he gestures vaguely to himself, “Confident, capable, always in control.”

You blink. The realization hitting you like a wave, washing over you and leaving you unsettled.

All this time, you’ve seen him as an invincible force, someone who could handle anything with a smile, who never let the pressures of his life touch him. You’ve relied on that image, drawn strength from it, without ever questioning the reality behind it.

But that’s not the case, is it?

Beneath the polished exterior, behind the confident facade, he’s been playing a role, just like you. He’s been hiding his fears and insecurities, presenting a version of himself that the world expects to see, while the real him remains concealed.

Your heart aches at the thought, a pang of guilt threading through the tenderness you feel for him. He’s been carrying this burden, this expectation of perfection, and you’ve been too wrapped up in your own struggles to see it.

You were right—you truly don’t know the real him. But… you want to. Desperately.

You take a deep breath, eyes searching his face for the truth behind his words.

“But… why?” you ask gently, “Why is it so important to you to keep up this image? Why can’t you just… be yourself?”

There’s a moment of silence, a heartbeat where you think he might not answer, where the vulnerability in his eyes seems to retreat behind the familiar walls he’s built. But then, he speaks, and the words that spill from his lips are raw, tinged with a quiet resignation that cuts through you.

“Because ‘myself’ isn’t good enough,” he admits quietly. “Not in this world. Not with the expectations people have of me.”

The sheer weight of his words, pierces through you, and your heart aches with an almost unbearable tenderness. There is a deep vulnerability in his admission, and the need to reach out, to comfort him, burns within you.

But would he even accept it? Could you close this growing chasm between you, this distance that feels both vast and fragile?

“But Satoru, who says you have to meet these expectations?” you whisper, voice trembling with emotion.

He lets out a bitter laugh, the sound devoid of any real humor, and the gesture is almost painful to witness, as if he’s mocking himself more than anything else. When his eyes finally meet yours, there’s an emptiness in them that chills you to the core, as though he’s become a shell of the person he once was.

“I’m a Gojo, y/n. There’s a certain… standard that comes with that name. It’s not just an image, it’s a legacy.”

He pauses, his gaze drifting away from yours and settling on the passing scenery outside the window yet again. There’s something almost haunting in the way he stares out, as if he’s lost in a world you can’t reach.

“People look at me and they see the name before they see the person. And if I don’t live up to that legacy… if I don’t maintain it…”

“—but doesn’t that mean you’re living for them, and not for yourself?” you interject softly, the question hanging in the air between you like a lifeline.

Satoru’s eyes flicker to yours quickly, a flash of something unidentifiable crossing his features, but then he looks away again, his gaze returning to the window. This time, there’s a distant sadness in his eyes, a melancholy that seems to settle over him like a heavy shroud.

“You shouldn’t have to sacrifice who you are just to fit into a mold that someone else created. That’s not living, Satoru. That’s just… existing.”

The silence that follows is thick and palpable, stretching out between you as if the very air around you has become denser. You watch him closely, searching his face for any sign that your words have reached him, that they’ve touched something deep within.

But as the moments pass, a new question begins to form in the back of your mind, creeping in slowly with an undeniable urgency.

Is Satoru truly happy with this life he’s been forced to live?

Or has he become so accustomed to the role he’s been given, the expectations he’s been made to carry, that he’s forgotten what it means to live for himself?

The smile he often wears—the one that dazzles everyone around him—feels different now as you think about it. It seems less like a genuine expression of joy and more like a carefully crafted mask, designed to hide the cracks beneath.

But then there’s the smile you’ve seen when he’s with you and Haru, one that’s softer, more genuine, like a fleeting glimpse of the man he could be if he weren’t weighed down by the immense burden of his family’s legacy.

If Satoru were truly as calculating, as cold and self-serving as you once thought, then why does he seem so… trapped?

Why does it feel like he’s just as much a prisoner of his circumstances as you’ve felt in your own life?

The thought sends a pang of guilt through you, a realization that maybe, just maybe, you’ve been too quick to judge, too quick to believe the worst without truly understanding the complexities of the man sitting in front of you.

You know that feeling all too well—the suffocating pressure to be someone you’re not, to live up to the expectations others have placed on you.

It’s a burden you wouldn’t wish on anyone, least of all someone who, despite everything, has shown you kindness and care.

“You know…there was a time in my life when I was just… existing, too,” you murmur, the words fragile yet heavy as they slip from your lips.

His eyes flicker to yours briefly, a small spark of interest igniting in the blue depths, but he doesn’t turn to face you. His posture remains angled toward the window, his gaze distant and unfocused, as if the world outside holds the answers he’s searching for.

“When I was with Naoya,” you continue, the name tasting bitter on your tongue, “it felt like every day was a performance. I had to be what he wanted, do what he expected, or face the consequences. It was like I was living in a cage, unable to be myself because ‘myself’ wasn’t what he wanted.”

You steal another glance at him, wondering if he understands, if he sees the parallels between your experiences. The memories flood back with each word you utter, their weight pressing down on your chest.

“I was just going through the motions, trying to survive,” you admit, voice trembling slightly. “It was… exhausting. Pretending to be someone I wasn’t, always afraid of what might happen if I let the mask slip.”

Satoru remains silent, his profile bathed in the soft glow of the city lights as they pass by outside the window—but, in the dim light of the limousine, you catch sight of his expression—thoughtful, pensive, as if your words have found their way into a place in his mind where he rarely allows anything to dwell.

“It sounds… suffocating,” he finally says, his voice quiet, almost reverent. His gaze remains on the world outside the window, though you know his words are meant for you. “Living like that, always having to be someone else. I can imagine… how hard that must have been for you.”

“It was,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

Your heart drops as you experience a sudden realization—a realization that…with Satoru you are falling into that same pattern.

Forcing yourself to put on this façade of being the perfect wife of a Gojo—trapped in a life that doesn’t feel like yours, performing a role that someone else wrote for you.

How is it that your entire life, you have been a victim of control—first by Naoya, the man you once loved, and now by Satoru, the man you are beginning to care for?

All you have ever wanted is what’s best for you daughter.

“But… I did what I needed to do, for Haru’s sake.”

Haru’s sake.

The words echo in your mind, a reminder of the choices you’ve made, the sacrifices you endured to protect her. And as you sit across from Satoru in this limousine, another question lingers at the edge of your thoughts—a question that fills you with uncertainty.

…what is the right choice to make for Haru’s sake?

Would staying with Satoru mean condemning yourself to another life of pretenses and expectations? A life where you continue to lose pieces of yourself, where you’re forced to hide behind yet another mask?

You steal a glance at Satoru, searching his face for answers you’re not sure you’ll find. His expression, though calm, doesn’t give much away, and it only deepens your turmoil.

Could he break free of these shackles with you?

Could he let go of the image he’s been forced to uphold, and be the person he truly is, without fear of judgment or rejection? Without being dictated by the weight of legacy and obligation?

The questions whirl in your mind.

Do you risk telling him everything, laying your soul bare in the hope that he will abandon this life for you? That he will choose you and Haru over the cold, unyielding expectations that have bound him for so long?

Or do you betray the man you’ve come to admire so deeply, the man who, despite his outward strength, is already so fragile, so vulnerable, hidden behind a mask of confidence?

As the silence stretches between you, you realize that the answer to one question in particular might be more important than anything else.

Because if Satoru can’t break free—if he can’t be himself, even with you—then what kind of future could you possibly have together? What kind of life could you offer Haru if you’re both trapped in a web of lies and half-truths, forced to play roles that don’t fit?

Your heart clenches painfully at the thought, and for the first time, you begin to doubt whether you can keep playing this role, whether you can keep pretending that everything is okay when deep down, you know it’s not.

But…you want to believe in him. So, so badly.

You want to believe that Satoru is different, that he’s capable of more than just playing the part assigned to him. You want to believe that, together, you can carve out a life that’s real, that’s yours, free from the weight of expectation and the shadow of legacy.

The desire to believe in him, to trust him, is almost overwhelming, and it takes every ounce of your strength not to reach out to him, to demand answers, to plead for him to show you that he’s more than just the image he projects to the world.

“So how did you break free?” he asks, voice barely above a whisper, almost as if he’s afraid of the answer.

Your breath hitches as his words hang in the air, and for a moment, the weight of his question feels like it might crush you.

You let out a trembling exhale, your emotions teetering on the edge of control, threatening to consume you whole.

“Just… a leap of faith,” you manage.

The words are simple, but they carry the weight of everything you’ve been through, everything you’ve survived. And in that moment, you hope—no, you pray—that it’s enough.

Enough to show him that there’s a way out, that there’s more to life than the roles you’ve been forced to play. Enough to convince him that he can take that same leap, that he can be more than just the legacy he’s been bound to.

Because if he can’t… then you’re not sure you’ll survive another fall.

ꨄ︎

The rest of the car ride passes in an unusual, heavy silence, but as the limousine nears the dazzling venue that will soon thrust you both into the public eye, you steel yourself for what’s to come.

The quiet, introspective moments you shared with Satoru within the backseat of this vehicle start to morph into something else—an unspoken agreement that whatever doubts, fears, or conflicts surfaced during this ride must now be hidden, locked away beneath yet another carefully constructed facade.

After all—in this world you are both living in, there can be no room for hesitation, no cracks in the image you both must maintain.

Satoru straightens in his seat, his expression sharpening into the confident mask you’ve seen him wear so many times before—like an actor preparing for a role.

It’s as if every trace of the man who moments ago, shared his deepest insecurities with you is now tucked away, replaced by the flawless persona the world expects to see.

And the way he does it so effortlessly—well, it only intensifies the ache in your heart.

But you have no choice to follow suit—the night is just beginning, and so, just as he did, you force your own worries into the back of your mind as you too prepare to play your part.

The limousine comes to a smooth halt at the gala’s entrance, and your eyes widen in awe.

It’s not as if the last charity gala you attended wasn’t elegant, certainly it was, but this—this is on an entirely different scale, a spectacle of grandeur that borders on the surreal.

The venue—a massive hotel nestled in the heart of the city—stands like a beacon of luxury. Its grand entrance a marvel, adorned with sparkling lights that bathe the surrounding area in a warm, golden glow.

The red carpet stretches out like a river of crimson, flowing beside the gleaming wheels of limousines that pull up one after another.

Their doors open to reveal the crème de la crème of society—elegantly dressed attendees stepping out, their outfits glittering under the lights and the air filled with the lively murmur of conversation and bright flashes of cameras.

You recognize several faces in the crowd—renowned actors whose performances have moved you to tears, musicians whose songs have been the soundtrack to your life, influencers who have set trends you've tried to keep up with.

These are the people who’ve always seemed larger than life—whose lives have played out on magazine covers and in the flicker of movie screens. And now, here they are, mere feet away from you, mingling in the same space, breathing the same air.

God, this is terrifying.

You’ve stepped into the domain where every glance, every whisper holds weight—every word you utter, every expression that crosses your face, will be scrutinized, dissected, and judged.

The world is watching you.

Bright lights from cameras flare up, nearly blinding you as your foot touches the red carpet.

The media presence is quite overwhelming, and instinctively, you reach for Satoru’s hand, seeking some sort of anchor in the chaos—without even considering how, just moments ago, you could barely bring yourself to meet his eyes.

As soon as your fingers brush against his, you hesitate, unsure if it’s the right move.

You steal a quick glance at Satoru, trying to gauge his mood, to see if he’s feeling the same dissonance. But before you can pull away, he responds immediately, his hand closing around yours with a gentle squeeze, intertwining his fingers with yours.

His expression remains carefully composed, and he offers you a small, comforting smile—one that feels reassuring in its familiarity.

But… isn’t that just how it is between you two?

Pretending like nothing happened, like there isn’t a storm of emotions brewing beneath the surface.

His smile is a mask, you know that, but despite it all, it’s still a small comfort—a quiet reminder that, despite everything, you’re not alone in this.

At least, you’re in it together.

As Satoru leads you down the red carpet, carrying that familiar unshakeable confidence—the second skin he effortlessly slips into—you can’t help but feel a subtle tension in the air of attendees, an undercurrent you can’t quite shake.

Why is it that the media’s gaze feels sharper…more pointed, as though they’re all waiting with bated breath for the slightest crack in the façade, for a single moment of vulnerability to pounce on?

And you can’t help but feel like that crack might come from you.

You catch sight of the interview station ahead—a stage set for judgment with its sleek, modern setup. The charity event’s logo glows prominently against a backdrop, creating a space to remind everyone of the event’s significance, yet for you it feels more like a gauntlet.

Oh, God…

Suddenly everything feels unbearably heavy, magnified under the relentless scrutiny of so many watchful eyes: Naoya’s threat, loosing Haru, Satoru’s intentions and your conflicted feelings for him.

Guests are ushered forward one by one with rehearsed smiles and practiced answers ready for the waiting reporters, and microphones glisten under the harsh lights, capturing every word, every inflection, while cameras click and whir, immortalizing each moment.

Throughout the chatter, you overhear a famous actress gushing about the importance of supporting children in need, her voice carrying a practiced sincerity. Next to her, a well-known musician is cracking a joke, easing into the limelight as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.

They make it look so easy.

But for you, every step closer to the cluster of reporters feels like a step closer to the edge of a cliff. The knot in your stomach tightens, coiling like a snake ready to strike. The distance between you and the flashing cameras, the probing questions, the scrutinizing eyes—it’s closing in too fast, and there’s no escape.

This is it. This night will test your resolve and your ability to maintain this façade, perhaps more than any before it, and the cost of failure is far too high.

Satoru glances at you, his expression a mask of calm and composure, but there’s something more in the way his thumb traces soothing circles against your skin.

A silent reassurance—one not for the cameras. A promise that, despite everything that happened in the limo, despite the unresolved tension still hanging between you, he’s here.

He’s with you.

You look up at him, and for a moment, the noise and chaos around you fade into the background. In his eyes, you see a softness that’s only privy to you—a vulnerability that he keeps hidden from the world.

It’s a look that makes your heart squeeze painfully in your chest, a look that almost makes you believe that maybe everything will be okay.

“You ready?” he murmurs.

You take a deep breath, trying to calm the storm within, nodding slightly as you force a smile onto your face. The muscles in your cheeks feel tight, strained, but you hope—desperately—that it’s convincing enough.

“Yeah,” the word sticks in your throat. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

As the reporters spot you, you can practically feel their collective gaze zeroing in. The intensity of it is suffocating, and as you step into the designated interview area, the cameras flare to life, their bright lights nearly blinding you.

A female reporter steps forward, her smile bright and impeccably professional. She’s poised, microphone at the ready, her demeanor polished to perfection, as if she’s trained her whole life for this moment.

“Mr. and Mrs. Gojo, you both look absolutely stunning tonight,” she begins, voice smooth and tailored for the camera.

“Thank you,” Satoru responds effortlessly, slipping into his role with grace. “We’re both so honored to be able to attend.”

“You’re one of the most talked-about couples this evening,” the reporter continues, her eyes gleaming with interest as she watches you both closely. “Tell us, how does it feel to be here supporting such a noble cause?”

Your heart races, pounding so hard in your chest that you wonder if she can hear it over the noise of the crowd. But you can’t let it show—this is the moment where the facade must hold, where you must be the perfect wife, the perfect partner, the perfect everything.

And so, you force yourself to smile again—stepping into the role you’ve rehearsed in your mind a thousand times.

“We’re here to support a cause that’s very close to our hearts,” your voice is steady, though beneath the surface, you feel a faint tremor threatening to break through. “The work this charity does for children in need is truly incredible… and we’re honored to be a part of it.”

Satoru steps in smoothly, his voice rich with a warmth that seems to effortlessly draw everyone’s attention.

“Absolutely,” he adds. “As parents ourselves, we understand the importance of giving every child a chance at a brighter future. We’re here to do whatever we can to help make that happen.”

There’s a sincerity in his tone that makes it easy to forget the mask he wears, eliciting nods and approving smiles from the reporters.

For a moment, even you are almost convinced, but you know the script, know the words.

You catch a subtle glance he throws your way—a silent check-in, his eyes asking the unspoken question: Are you okay? And you manage a small, almost imperceptible nod in return, meeting his gaze briefly before turning back to the reporter.

“That’s wonderful to hear,” she responds. “And how have you both been? The public is so curious about Haru.”

Here it is—the anxiety settles as you transition from the safe ground of charity work to the more precarious territory of your personal life.

You can feel the eyes of the crowd on you, the cameras zooming in, capturing every flicker of emotion, every nuance of your body language—as though the entire world is holding its breath, waiting for you to falter.

Satoru’s hand releases yours only to wrap around your waist, pulling you close, and the warmth he provides brings you a fleeting moment of comfort.

“We’ve been great,” his smile unwavering. “Life has been busy, but we’re grateful for every moment we get to spend together with our little one. Haru keeps us on our toes, that’s for sure.”

There’s a practiced charm in Satoru’s voice, the kind that can turn any situation into a favorable one. You muster a smile, trying to match his composure, nodding in agreement.

“Yes, she does,” you add, your voice steady despite the turmoil inside. “It’s a whirlwind, but we wouldn’t have it any other way.”

The reporter’s smile widens, clearly pleased with the smooth delivery, but there’s a lingering tension in the air, a sense that she’s searching for more, for a crack in the veneer.

“There’s been a lot of speculation about Haru,” her voice soft yet probing. “Many are wondering Satoru… is she your biological daughter?”

The question hangs in the air like a loaded gun, the implication sharp and clear.

The crowd seems to lean in, the cameras zooming closer, waiting for your reaction, for any sign of hesitation or discomfort.

But Satoru anticipated this moment—it was one of the questions he had prepared for, a part of the script meticulously crafted to navigate the murky waters of public scrutiny.

The media has been relentless, swirling with unanswered questions about Haru, speculating about who she is and what she’s like.

It’s no secret that you’ve both been fiercely protective of her, keeping her out of the spotlight, away from the prying eyes that would dissect her every move.

For that, you’ve always been deeply grateful to Satoru.

And so, he handles the question with the same effortless grace that he’s maintained throughout the evening.

He chuckles softly—a sound that feels almost disarming warm in its sincerity, as if the question is nothing more than a casual curiosity, easily addressed and dismissed.

“Haru is my daughter in every way that matters,” his tone firm yet kind. “She’s our pride and joy, and we love her more than anything in this world.”

His answer is flawless, designed to reinforce the image of a perfect family. Yet, as the conviction in his words leave his lips, you feel a surge of bittersweetness.

Haru deserves what he is saying…she deserves that reality.

But alas, it’s nothing more than a rehearsed line delivered in front of an audience that’s eager to believe in the fairy tale.

The reporter shifts slightly, her eyes gleaming with curiosity as she continues.

“I see. It’s clear that family is important to both of you. What’s the secret to balancing your high-profile lives with raising a young child?”

You force yourself to smile, the answer ready on your lips.

“We just focus on what’s important,” you begin, the words flowing smoothly despite the tightness in your chest. “We make sure to carve out time for each other and for Haru. It’s all about prioritizing what really matters.”

“It’s not always easy,” Satoru nods in agreement, “but we cherish our time away from the spotlight, and we’re very protective of Haru’s privacy. At the end of the day, we’re just like any other parent—we want what’s best for Haru, and we do our best to make that happen.”

Another perfectly crafted answer, one that’s sure to satisfy the reporter and the audience watching from behind their screens. You can almost see the checkmark being made in her mind—a box ticked off; a line drawn under the discussion of family life.

The reporter, sensing she’s reached the natural conclusion of the topic, shifts her stance slightly.

“Thank you for sharing. It’s clear that Haru is very lucky to have you both.”

Her gaze sharpens, the glint of professional interest cutting through the pleasantries.

“And what about your own relationship? How do you manage to keep the spark alive amidst all the chaos?”

Here it comes. The question you were dreading, the one you hoped she’d skip over.

It’s one thing to talk about Haru, to present a united front when it comes to your daughter...

But your relationship?

That’s a minefield, one littered with unspoken truths and half-hearted lies. And it sucks. It really sucks that Satoru has to deal with this kind of intrusion daily—a life where privacy is a luxury you can barely afford.

“Communication is key,” you begin, the words flowing out of you like second nature. Lies. “We make sure to talk about everything—our hopes, our fears, our plans.” Lies. “And we make an effort to have regular date nights, just to reconnect and remind ourselves of why we fell in love in the first place.” Lies.

As the words leave your lips, you can almost hear the hollow echo of them in your mind, a mantra you’ve repeated so many times it’s lost all meaning. You know it, and Satoru knows it, too.

But he plays his part flawlessly—lifting your hand to his lips, brushing a tender kiss on the back of it. It’s a small gesture, one that seems innocent enough, but you feel the weight of it—the expectation, the need to present a united front, to sell the illusion.

As the warmth of his lips lingers on your skin, your heart clenches with yearning.

“That’s right,” Satoru adds, his voice carrying that practiced sincerity that makes everything he says sound like the absolute truth. “We support each other, and I’m so lucky that y/n is my biggest cheerleader. We’re a team, and that makes all the difference.”

The reporter nods thoughtfully, her smile curling up in a way that suggests she’s found the narrative she’s been looking for.

“You know,” she begins, her tone shifting into something more conspiratorial, as if she’s about to reveal a tantalizing secret, “speaking of… you two have quickly become the talk of the town—everyone’s eager to know more about your story. Satoru, you were once considered the world’s most eligible bachelor, but now… here you are. How did this all begin?”

There it is—the question that forces you both to delve into the past, to recount a story that’s been polished and perfected, but one that still feels strangely disconnected from the reality you’re living.

You shift slightly in Satoru’s hold, the rehearsed answer poised on your tongue, designed to fit the narrative you both agreed upon—but before you can even open your mouth to speak, Satoru takes the lead.

“Well," he starts, calm and measured, "Y/n was looking for a new job, and I needed someone with her expertise. It was professional at first, but we just… clicked. Like it was meant to be.”

The familiar words from the script slip effortlessly from his lips, just like you practiced, and the interviewer’s eyes light up, clearly pleased with the response—at least on the surface. But there’s a glint in her eyes, a spark of curiosity that suggests she’s not quite done yet.

The microphone inches closer, capturing every word, every inflection, as if she’s trying to draw out something deeper, something more than the polished story you’re offering.

“That’s wonderful,” her voice takes a more intimate tone as she leans in. “But Satoru, what was it about y/n that made you realize she was the one? I mean, surely there was something that stood out, something that made you think, ‘This is the woman I want to spend my life with.’”

“I’ve always admired how she puts Haru first," he begins reciting the script, voice steady and composed. "Her dedication to being a mother, to making sure Haru has everything she needs, it’s something I truly respect…”

But then, there’s a pause—a brief, almost imperceptible silence that stretches time, making your heart skip a beat.

Did he just hesitate?

His gaze flickers to yours, and for a moment, the practiced facade slips. There’s a softness in his eyes that makes your breath catch—but before you can process it, he continues.

“Actually, you know… when I first met y/n, there was something about her that I couldn’t ignore. She was different from anyone I’ve ever met—strong, intelligent, and fiercely independent."

Wait… did he just change the script?

An unexpected flutter stirs in your stomach, and your pulse quickens as the weight of his words sinks in. This wasn’t part of the agreed-upon answer… so why is he veering off course?

Your eyes narrow slightly as you search his face, trying to decode the sudden change.

"It’s strange,” he continues, his voice softer now, more introspective, “because at first, I thought it was just her strength that drew me in."

A small, almost nostalgic smile tugs at the corners of his lips, and there’s a warmth in his expression that makes something inside you twist.

"But as I got to know her, I realized it was more than that. Y/n has this incredible ability to make everyone around her feel seen and valued… she’s honest, sometimes brutally so, but she’s also kind in a way that’s rare."

The interviewer’s expression changes, the curiosity in her eyes deepening as she senses a sincerity in his words.

Is he… speaking from the heart?

It feels like a quiet confession, one meant only for you, despite the audience that surrounds you both.

Your breath catches in your throat, and you find yourself holding it, afraid to let go of this moment, afraid to shatter the delicate truth he seems to be laying bare. His words wrap around you like a cocoon, drawing you in, making you feel both vulnerable and cherished in a way you haven’t felt in a long time.

This isn’t the Satoru you’ve come to expect—the one who carefully controls every word, every expression, ensuring that nothing slips through the cracks. It’s as if he’s just lifted a curtain, showing you a glimpse of something real, something you didn’t think you’d ever see.

But why now? Why here, in front of all these people?

Is…he willing to take that leap of faith?

In that instant, the hope blooming inside you feels almost tangible, like a fragile flower unfurling its petals for the first time. It’s delicate, yes, but unmistakable, and it fills you with a warmth that you’ve longed for—something you thought you’d never find again. It’s enough to make you believe that maybe, just maybe, everything can change.

For so long, you’ve hidden behind masks, playing roles that never truly belonged to you. But now, if Satoru is willing to step beyond the boundaries you both created…

The world around you—the blinding lights, the flashing cameras, the buzz of the crowd—seems to fade into the background, blurring into insignificance.

All that remains is the two of you, as if you’ve stepped into a world of your own making, where nothing else matters.

Satoru shifts slightly, and when his eyes find yours, there’s a depth and intensity in them that you’ve never seen before.

It’s as if he’s seeing you for the first time, truly seeing you—not the roles you’ve played, not the masks you’ve worn, but you, the person beneath it all. In that moment, it feels like you’re the only person who matters.

“For the first time in my life, I feel like I have someone I can truly trust. Someone who doesn’t just see me as ‘Gojo Satoru,’ but as a regular person, with all my flaws and imperfections.”

Trust.

A knot forms in your chest, constricting each beat of your heart as Satoru’s confession echoes in your mind.

The burden of that single word feels unbearable as the guilt you’ve been suppressing resurfaces, suddenly making it hard to focus on anything else.

Here Satoru is, baring his soul to you in a way you never expected, revealing the depth of his feelings, his vulnerabilities, and all the while, you’ve been holding onto a secret—a lie that could shatter everything.

No… it’s not just a lie—it’s a betrayal, and the full weight of it settles on your shoulders, heavy and suffocating.

Fuck, you’re losing your composure.

You’re acutely aware of the cameras, their lenses trained on you, capturing every fleeting emotion that flickers across your face.

The pressure is immeasurable and you swallow hard, desperately trying to hold his gaze, to anchor yourself in the sincerity you see there, but your smile feels brittle, like it might crack at any moment.

Satoru leans in closer and instinctively, you want to pull away—terrified that the closer he gets, the more he’ll see, the more he’ll understand the depths of your turmoil. But you’re trapped, rooted in place, every movement scrutinized, recorded, and you know you can’t falter.

His breath is warm against your skin as he places a gentle kiss on your temple, a touch so gentle that it nearly undoes you. This wasn’t part of the script, unlike the calculated kiss on your hand earlier, and the tenderness behind it, is almost too much to bear.

When he pulls back, his eyes meet yours, and his words—intended for the camera—feel like they’re meant for you alone.

“I guess you could say that y/n has this way of making me feel… grounded. Like I can be myself, and that’s enough.”

His words cut through you like a knife. What are you doing? You can’t keep lying to him, not after this.

As the crowd around you buzzes with life and the cameras continue to flash, capturing this moment of intimacy, all you can think about is the price you might pay for this secret you’ve kept.

Once he realizes you’ve been hiding this from him, will he ever be able to look at you the same way again? Will he still see you as someone he can trust?

This new fear surges forward, and you feel your composure slipping, the mask you wear cracking.

Fuck. Is it obvious?

Can they all see the turmoil roiling inside you, the fear that everything is about to come crashing down?

Is your panic written across your face, as clear as day for the world to see?

“That’s such a beautiful sentiment,” the reporter’s approving voice cuts through the haze, snapping you back to the present with a jolt.

But before you can fully regain your bearings, her gaze shifts, locking onto you with an intensity that makes your heart pound against your ribcage.

Her eyes seem to bore into you, searching for something beneath the surface, and suddenly, you’re terrified that she might find it.

“And how does it feel to hear him say that, y/n? To know that you have such a profound effect on someone like Satoru?”

The question hangs in the air, and for a moment, you’re frozen, the weight of her words pressing down on you like a physical force.

What are you even supposed to say?

You practiced for this, rehearsed the lines until they were second nature, but nothing could have prepared you for the raw honesty in Satoru’s words.

How does it feel?

God, the truth is, you don’t know how to feel—happy, surprised, comforted, terrified…there are too many emotions surging through you at this moment, too many to untangle and make sense of.

But…you have to say something, the world is watching.

Blood rushes in your ears, drowning out the noise of the crowd, and you force a smile, hoping it doesn’t look as strained as it feels, searching for the right words, the ones that will satisfy the reporter.

“It’s… I’m so lucky,” you manage to say, stammering slightly. “Knowing that I have that kind of impact on him… it’s an honor. I just hope I can continue to be that person for him.”

Is it enough?

The words feel hollow, a weak echo of the truth, but they’re all you can manage. You just hope they’ll hold the world at bay, at least for now.

The reporter nods, her professional smile unwavering, but you can’t shake the feeling she’s watching you closely, searching for any cracks in your veneer.

Her eyes linger on you for a moment longer, as if weighing the sincerity of your words, but then she steps back with a practiced ease, seemingly satisfied.

“Thank you so much for sharing your thoughts with us, Mr. and Mrs. Gojo. Enjoy the rest of your evening.”

As she moves away, you experience a fleeting sense of relief once the crowd’s attention shifts, the cameras swiveling to capture the next moment.

Satoru’s hand finds yours, guiding you away from the spotlight as the next couple in line takes your place under the glaring lights.

The silence between you is thick, and around you, the crowd blurs into a haze of indistinct faces and flashing lights.

You try to decipher Satoru’s mood, searching his face for any clue, but his expression remains an unreadable mask as you both maneuver through the throng of people, each step carrying you further from the intensity of the interview and deeper into the swirling uncertainty of the night.

Then, as you cross the threshold into the grand ballroom, the change in atmosphere is immediate with the soaring ceilings, glittering chandeliers, and the soft hum of polite conversations—yet, despite the grandeur surrounding you, your focus is entirely on the man beside you—the one who just moments ago bared a piece of his soul to you in front of everyone.

Almost instantly, Satoru is swarmed by people—important figures and familiar faces, all eager to exchange pleasantries with the man of the hour.

You watch as he slips effortlessly into casual conversation, his charm and charisma on full display—a scene you’ve witnessed countless times before.

But that’s because, to the outside world, nothing has changed—he’s the same confident, untouchable figure he’s always been. It’s as if the heartfelt words he spoke moments ago, laying his heart bare before you, were never uttered. As if they were just another part of the performance.

But you know better.

You saw the look in his eyes, felt the sincerity in his voice. And now, as he engages in yet another conversation, flashing that same easy smile, you can’t help but wonder…

What is he really thinking?

His gaze lingers on you as he effortlessly navigates each conversation, and there’s something in his eyes—an almost imperceptible signal, like he’s reaching out to you, a silent communication that only the two of you can understand.

You’ve made up your mind.

You want more with Satoru—something real, something unburdened by the lies and pretenses that have cast shadows over your relationship.

You can no longer allow this secret to fester, growing like a dark cloud that threatens to eclipse whatever light might still exist between you.

To truly move forward, you have to release the fear that’s been holding you back—you have to come clean, to trust him, just as he has placed his trust in you.

But you know the timing isn’t right—not here, not now, surrounded by the glittering facade of this world you’ve both learned to navigate so well.

When you finally lay bare the truth you’ve been hiding, hopefully Satoru will understand.

All you can do is wait, hope, and wonder what the night will bring.

hello lovelies, thank you so much for reading and supporting my fic 😭 i cannot tell you how much it brightens my day to read your comments! to be completely honest, i really wasn't expecting much with this fic, it has really transformed into something that i had no intention of doing, but the thing is, i'm really enjoying writing it, so SO much, and i'm glad ya'll are enjoying reading it 🥲🫶�� this is only 2/3rds of the original chapter 4 i wrote...lol. i still have to edit the last 1/3 (apparently i cannot stop yapping) so it just seemed right to split it up and let this section breathe a little bit too, it felt like a natural stopping point before we delve into y/n getting that closure with satoru. y/n finally got the push she needed to make up her mind 🥲 i know it took her a bit, but being in an emotionally abusive relationship has left her with a lot of trust issues, and seeing satoru open up to her made her realize that despite their differences, they are going through similar struggles. poor baby satoru 😭 he needs a hug. like my heart literally breaks for him. this chapter felt really vulnerable to write...maybe that's why i was so hesitant on posting it. like it just hurts my soul lol. anyways, i wanna let you know that with this month coming to an end, my schedule is going to be getting pretty busy as i will be starting classes. it's my first time returning to school after 10 years...and i'll be doing it while still being a mom and working. i'm literally gonna be feeling like y/n, juggling a lot (the mom brain is a REAL THING YA'LL) so if my updates take longer that is why. much love to you all, and again thanks so much 🤗 -aly 💕 → onto the next chapter ꨄ

taglist :

@geniejunn @fortunatelyfurrygiver @rosso-seta @acowboykisser @mikyapixie

@shokosbunny @fire-child-kira @aluvrina @laviefantasie @kurookinnie

@poopypipi @painted-hills @stillserene @mira-lol @k-kkiana

@sebastianlover @blueberrysungie @kalulakunundrum @doireallyhavetonamthis @lingophilospher

@ichikanu @artist1936 @christianacj27 @watermelon-online @jkbangtan7

@angelina7890 @aruraa @han11dh @jonesmelodys

@a-trashbag @jotarohat @khaleesihavilliard @tsukistopglazer

@stevenknightmarc @maskedpacific @that-redheadd @lovelyartemisa @eolivy

@alwaysfreakingout @valleydoli @voids-universe @sukunadckrider @aishies-stuff

@saccharine-nectarine @ilianasau @pinksaiyans @evalynanne @tbzzluvr

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ephie-om · 2 months ago

Text

Satan thought that he had done enough research to be prepared for anything Diavolo's exchange program had to throw at him. He knew more than any of his brothers about human anatomy, psychology, and biology. He had a list of potential predispositions you would have about demons and how to overcome them. But just like with the rest of his family, you managed to surprise him.

You, a human, made the choice to treat the Avatar of Wrath with gentleness. He found his thoughts wandering to his favorite memories of your fingers ghosting over his wounds as your brow scrunched in worry. Some reckless part of him found that side of you so captivating he nearly threw himself into danger on purpose.

Logically, he knew that he loved you. He knew that, logically, you must at least like him. And logically, he knew that he should reciprocate that gentleness... somehow.

He ground his teeth in frustration as he slammed another book shut. Why did every book about humans in the Devildom only have information on eating, or killing, or exploiting them? The more time he spent without a course of action, the worse he felt. If he didn't know such a simple thing, surely you would decide he wasn't worth your time any more. And then what was he to do? Spend every moment pining for you to touch him, look him over with those eyes, just one more time?

That same reckless part of him spoke up again. Had you ever made him feel stupid? it asked. No, he answered. But I'm not sure if that's a risk I'm willing to take. You don't want to while away every day thinking about them, it answered snidely. But isn't that what you're doing right now?

A soft knock landed on his door, breaking him from this thoughts. Who would have the nerve to bother him this late? He stalked to the door, tail swiping past towers of books. His clawed hand ripped the door open only to find... you. Standing there, wringing your hands. "I'm sorry. I just had a shitty day, and I know it's late, but you were the first person I thought of." Your words sounded muffled to his ears. Why were your cheeks wet?

You walked into his room and he realized he must have stepped back to open the door. He should say something. He should find out what was wrong with your eyes, to make them so red. He should do anything besides stand there wordlessly and stare at you. "C-can I just stay in here for a little bit?" You stammered out. "You can pretend I'm not even here, I just don't wanna go right now."

"Of course," his words tumbled out, faster than his brain could catch up with him. "You can stay, you can stay all night if you want." You gave him a wobbly smile at that.

He realized this was his chance. If he got this right, you could see that he could be kind too, just like you. But if he messed up, he might scare you off. Permanently. He couldn't afford to make a mistake right now.

He stepped closer. Hesitantly, like approaching a deer. "Do you want to talk about it?"

You shook your head. "Thank you, but no."

Shit. He was all out of ideas. This wasn't good. His heart hammered in his ears, louder and louder. Thud. "We could sit down." Thud. "Maybe watch a movie?" Thud. "To take your mind off of it."

For a nerve-wracking moment, you considered it. "Yeah, that would be nice." Success. He let out a breath and followed you to the couch. Flipping through channels, you settled on some stupid, cheesy, vapid romance. Your heart wasn't in it, he thought, but you pretended to watch anyway.

Trying to swallow away the lump in his throat, his hand reached out for your shoulder, ever so slowly. Millimeter by millimeter he reached for you. He half expected you to startle once he finally made contact.

Instead, as his arm rested gingerly around you, you relaxed into him. Your head dropped into the curve of his neck like it was made to fit there. Your body settled slowly into his as the man on screen spilled coffee all over his secretary's blouse. You laughed softly, your body shaking, and Satan took the opportunity to scoot in just a little bit closer to you.

"Thank you," you murmured softly, your breath tickling his collarbone, "for all of this."

He smiled into your hair as his tail rested on your calf. "Of course. I'd never dream of not being here for you."

#obey me #obey me swd #omswd #obey me shall we date #obey me satan #om satan #omswd satan #obey me fluff #obey me satan x reader #ephie writes

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morganski-19 · 1 year ago

Text

Steve is hanging out with Robin when he hears a knock at the front door. Robin gives him a concerned look as he leaves the living room to open it, neither of them expecting anyone, and everyone they know has a key.

When he opens the door, a girl he guesses is around Dustin’s age is there, nervously playing with her hands, a backpack loosely thrown over her shoulder. “Hi, sorry to bother you but, do the Harrington’s live here?” she asks shyly.

“Yes, I’m Steve. Who are you?” There is a familiarity to her face that he can’t quite place.

“Steve, right, they said he had a son. I’m uh, my name is Julie. Your dad kinda knew my mom.”

He must have met her at one of his dad’s work events, that has to be why she looks familiar. “Oh ok, did she have to drop something off here or something?”

“Well, kinda. But it’s not what you’re probably expecting.” She pauses looking unsure of what she is going to say next. “Can I- can I come it, you might want to sit down for what I have to say. It’s kind of shocking.”

“I’m not sure, I don’t really know you. Could you tell me who your mom is, maybe I can remember you then.”

She takes a deep breath. “When I said that my mom knew your dad, I didn’t mean from work. Well, I did mean from work but she hasn’t worked for him in over fifteen years, so I doubt you’d remember her. She was his secretary for a while, and they had a very,” she pauses again, looking around to see if anyone is there. “Intimate, relationship.”

The dots clicked immediately in his head, thoughts immediately started to run around about who this girl could really be. He thinks that her offer to sit down was probably necessary. “Yeah, why don’t you come in.”

“Ok.” She steps through the doorway, waiting for him to lead her through the house.

He brings her to the kitchen, motioning for her to sit at the small table. Grabbing a few glasses, he fills them with water and brings them over, placing one in front of her. She thanks him, taking it and gulping it down with shaky hands. The more he looks at her, the more he can’t help but see more and more similarities, just ones that remind him of himself.

“Who was it, Steve,” Robin asks, wandering into the kitchen. “Oh shit, hi.”

“Rob, this is Julie, her mom apparently knew my dad.” Steve makes a motion with his head to indicate how, hoping that she can read it right.

With the way her eyes widen, he can’t help but think that she did. “Oh like, special knew. Like knew knew.”

“Yes,” Julie says weakly. “Yeah, they did.”

“Oh shit,” Robin takes a seat next to Steve, her hand immediately finding his. It brings comfort, reassurance that she’s there. He knew his dad was a piece of crap cheater, his mom certainly made it known during many of their screaming matches. But with the girl staring at him with the same eyes he sees every morning in the mirror, his brain can’t help but jump to the conclusion that she’s, something. And that just makes his chest tighten in anxiety.

“I, uh.” Julie starts, wringing her hand nervously again. “I don’t really know how to say this gently. But, when my mom worked for your dad, they had an affair. It didn’t last that long, but remember when I said my mom stopped working for him like fifteen years ago? It was actually seventeen because that’s when she figured out she was pregnant.”

Steve feels a lump forming in his throat as she nods, trying to take it all in. “With you?” he asks, not knowing how he is even speaking at all right now. Robin squeezes his hand.

Julie gives a small nod, looking down at the table. “Yeah.”

“And my dad is-” he can’t finish the sentence, but it’s answered by her sorry nod. “Holy shit.”

He runs a hand through his hair, trying to wrap his head around everything. This girl, Julie, is his sister. Half-sister, whatever, it doesn’t matter. Robin breaks her contact with him and goes to rub his back instead. His head falls into his hands propped up on the table and he just focuses on breathing.

“Steve, you ok?” Robin’s voice soothes him a little bit, but when your world just gets shattered, there’s not much that can be done to help completely.

“I knew he cheated. I knew that, accepted that. It’s why my mom followed him around on all his trips. But he- he had a kid, and just hid it.”

“I’m sorry. I know this is a lot to take in, I have proof if you want to see it.”

Steve looks at Robin, asking her what to do with his eyes. She shrugs, her way of saying that it couldn’t hurt. Probably is better that they have proof anyway, make sure this is legit. He nods, unable to say anything.

“Could we see it? Just to double-check everything,” Robin asks for him. God he’s so happy that she’s here

Julie ruffles around in her backpack, random clothes peeping out as she pulls out a file. She opens it, pulling out two pieces of paper before going in again and pulling out what looks like a school ID. “Here’s my birth certificate and the paternity test. And my ID with my picture on it, so you know it’s me.”

The first thing he sees is his father’s name on the test results, followed by the line saying his relation to Julie is undeniable. That he was undeniably the father. The birth certificate only has the signature of her mother and the doctor, but the father’s name is absent. He ditched them, probably made her mom prove that this kid was his, and then just paid them to shut them up. His mom would never know, he would never know, and they never had access to any of his records.

Julie Rebecca Lawson, born January 28, 1970. He was three when she was born. He’s had a sibling this whole time, and he didn’t even know it.

“Does your mom know you’re here?” Robin asks, softly.

Julie’s face visibly falls as she rapidly blinks away some tears. “She- she died two weeks ago. Car accident.”

“I’m so sorry, Julie,” Robin reaches across to comfort her, but the hand she was going to grab gets pulled away. “Whoever is watching you then, do they know where you are?”

She sniffles. “I’ve been staying with a foster family while they find a permanent placement. They don’t really care where I am. My caseworkers were trying to find some family, but my grandparents are long gone and my mom’s sister is in no place to take in a kid. So they were looking on my dad’s side.” She says the word dad as if they don’t fit right in her mouth.

“I didn’t come here looking for a place to say,” she continues. “Right before my mom passed, she finally told me about my dad. How he never wanted anything to do with me because he had a big reputation and another family. It was supposed to be a secret, but the more I thought about it, I couldn’t help but think that you had a right to know. And then since she-, since I needed a place to stay, it was only a matter of time before you found out. I knew he was out of town so I thought it might be better to say it myself. Now I’m not so sure that was such a great idea.”

“No,” Steve finally says. “I’m, I’m glad you told me. You’re right, we, me and my mom, had a right to know. So, thank you. Rob, could I talk to you for a minute?”

She stands. “Yeah. We’ll be right back, ok Julie.”

Julie says a soft reply as Robin leads Steve to the living room. She has shock in her eyes, he’s sure he does too. “I don’t know what to do, Rob.”

“How could you? You just found out that your dad had another kid. With another woman. And then hid it from you. How are you supposed to cope with that information?”

“I don’t know. I have no clue what to do from here but I can’t help but. Shit Rob, I want to help her.”

“Steve, you don’t know her, at all. She just spawned on your doorstep not even an hour ago and just dropped the biggest bombshell on you since the, you know what. I get that you want to help her, I do. Shit, I do too. But I’m just asking that you take a step back and think about this.”

Steve crosses his arms, pulling his eyebrows together. The decision was pretty much made in his mind, but she was right. “What if she stays the night, we sleep on this and get to know her more tomorrow. Then we can go from there.”

“Ok,” she puts a hand on Steve’s arm. “That’s a good plan.”

Robin steps forward, pulling him into a hug before they walk back into the kitchen. Julie looks back up at them, uncertainty filling her face. It reminds him so much of himself it sort of hurts. “Julie, you can stay the night, if you want to. That way tomorrow we can talk some more, and get to know each other, figure out what to do about this. But I can drive you back to the house you’re staying at if you’d like.”

“Could I stay here, I really don’t like it there.”

“Come on, I’ll show you the guest room.”

If this gets enough interest, I might make this into a whole fic of its own. So let me know if this interests you at all. Edit: This fic is now happening. I'm creating a tag list so if you'd like to be added to it, please respond under this post (so I can keep track of it better)

Edit 2: The fill part one is now posted here

#stranger things #steve harrington #robin buckley #original character #steve has a sibling #he just didn't know it #steddie #eddie will be in this too #julie would have lived in the same trailer park so they were neighbors #it would be post season 4 #about a year later #so she's the same age as the party pretty much

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maidflowery · 2 months ago

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Fortified Wager ♣♣♣ 𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳 7

♦︎♦︎ Aventurine x Reader ♦︎♦︎ ��𝕝𝕝𝕦𝕤𝕥𝕣𝕒𝕥𝕖𝕕

🄱🄰🄲🄺 🅃🄾 【Ｃｈａｐｔｅｒ６】

𝕋𝕒𝕓𝕝𝕖 𝕠𝕗 ℂ𝕠𝕟𝕥𝕖𝕟𝕥

Violet-Cyan Cadenza

POV: Aventurine

╔══ ⬥⬦⟣⟐⟢⬦⬥ ══╗

“If you know what’s best for you, you’ll forfeit this game!”

“But why? Didn't you say you'd show me the ropes? Is this all you've got? Just when things were starting to get fun...”

Aventurine had a lot on his mind that day.

“—You damned Avgin! Let's see if you can still smile when I charge you with scamming the IPC and have you shot on the spot!”

So, even when his own secretary, Duane, cursed him to death—proving that the invitation to this get-together party with colleagues was just a sham—he remained pensive, saying whatever came to mind.

By that time, Aventurine had learned the extent of his underlings' insubordination. Most of them were long-time employees who had been vying for his position. And yes, he had memorized all their faces.

He’d only been promoted to a senior manager of the Strategic Investment Department recently, so they must’ve seen it as an opportunity. They probably saw him as a pompous brat, ignorant of the ways of the world and surviving solely through luck. Although, the part where he happily signed the legal contract that’d give his position to Duane if he lost was entirely on him.

However, it turned out that Aventurine’d severely underestimated that secretary of his.

Not only was Duane punctual, dedicated and meticulous, he was also detail-oriented and thorough. If only he had applied those traits to his actual job, he might have solved world hunger by now! What a damn shame!

Instead, Duane scheduled the execution date two weeks in advance, brought his own audience, reserved a seat in a secluded spot, paid the dealer, and even prepared his own decks!

Aventurine wouldn’t be surprised if the walls surrounding them were to collapse at any moment, revealing the nightclub itself to be cardboard boxes exclusively designed by Duane as part of his scheme!

...What a bunch of dunces.

Did they not realize that this position had been granted to him by Diamond himself? Trying to usurp it was essentially the same as opposing the Ten Stonehearts. Regardless of how this game played out, he would still be the ultimate victor.

“There’s no harm in giving up, you know.”

“Sometimes you just have to accept defeat.”

However, looking at the current situation, he was most likely going to lose. In this match, anyway. The cards he was dealt stank worse than roadkill.

His luck merely improved a once measly chance drastically; it couldn’t multiply something that had a 0% chance of happening.

As he stared at his cards, Duane and his lackeys grinned from ear to ear—a stark contrast to when they first introduced themselves.

“You’re our new senior manager, aren’t you? My name is Duane Stoyanova! I’ll be your secretary from today onward. If there’s anything you don’t understand, just ask me! I’ll show you the ropes!”

“Mr. Aventurine, how are you holding up? They just threw you right into the middle of things, so it must be rough!"

“Seeing that you've been working hard lately, we thought of arranging party for you, Mr. Aventurine!"

...Eh, not that he cared all that much, honestly. He'd even throw the game just to give them the fleeting satisfaction of victory.

What's sweeter than letting the enemy believe they've won, only to pull the rug out from under their feet?

But then...

“—SHOW THEM!! SHOW THEM WHAT YOU GOT!! DON’T LOSE!!”

An ardent, tenacious scream pierced through the false encouragement, sarcastic compliments, provoking taunts, and mocking ridicules—reaching all the way to him.

Aventurine instinctively turned around, spotting a girl amidst the crowd beside him.

After screaming that at the top of her lungs, a crimson hue spread rapidly across her face, reaching even her ears. Then, she ran away while holding her vibrant-colored drink.

‘Aww, how cute, she thinks I’m going to lose,’ was his initial thought.

If only she knew he was blessed with extreme luck by the goddess of his clan.

Then again, if she did, would she cheer on him so wholeheartedly?

Aventurine adjusted his posture, sitting upright, resting his leg on top of the other.

“W-what’s with him?”

One of Duane’s lackeys pointed out, noticing his shift in attitude.

“What are you trying to do now...?” Duane asked warily.

Oh, so NOW you are scared?

No, Duane probably was the whole time. Otherwise, why would he go to such lengths to ensure his opponent had zero chance of making a comeback?

At the same time, this was probably Duane’s only real shot at becoming a senior manager, knowing that Aventurine would never turn down this kind of challenge.

As an aficionado of games of chance, Aventurine truly admired his spirit.

Unfortunately, your biggest mistake is insisting that there’s no outcome possible other than your victory.

The possibility of winning or losing always existed, no matter what, because such was the nature of uncertainty. Wouldn’t it be the job of a superior to teach that to their dear subordinates?

Thus, Aventurine shrugged and replied blithely, “You heard her. I can’t afford to lose after that?”

“Huh?! I-it’s useless... Even if you try—...” Duane was turning paler.

“Yeah, but I feel like winning today.”

Knowing that he’d never lose, Aventurine seldom played seriously.

But that day, he gave it his all, fully intending to win.

✦✦⟡✦✦

Ever since then, Aventurine always wondered how his first proper meeting with you would unfold.

That was, if it ever happened at all, with fate interfering with every single one of his attempts. Which sounded dramatic, as if the whole world was going against him. When in reality, he stopped after the third try.

The first time was at the bar right after defeating Duane. Too bad, his co-workers got in the way somewhat.

The second was a week later, when he treated everyone to free meals. But when he looked for you, you were nowhere to be found.

The third was when he realized you acted as if the first never happened and deliberately avoided him during the second.

By that point, it had become clear that you were avoiding him.

Makes sense, he thought. About half a month had passed since then—enough time for you to figure out who you cheered for that night: an Avgin and a former slave, to boot. Wherever he went, his reputation always presided him.

Hence, he thought—it can’t be helped.

Then, he stopped thinking about you altogether.

⟡⟡✦⟡⟡

Yet, without fail, you showed up every week. You watched him play all night long, seemingly having come to terms with simply gazing at him from afar.

Understandable, really.

Aside from those who openly denounced him, treating him like a stain on earth, even noble bloods and big shots sometimes didn’t know what to do with him and chose to avoid him altogether. “Too much of a wild card,” they said. Let alone you, an ordinary person.

Of course, some were simply fascinated by what they saw and chose to observe from a safe distance, turning a blind eye to everything else. That seemed to be the case with most inhabitants of this town. And to be frank, he wouldn’t have it any other way.

The only reason he remained there, despite having conquered Penacony, was due to an unfinished business. Namely, Duane’s fuckups. After that man got demoted, the responsibility fell into his lap. So, who was the real victor here? It even made him doubt his luck for a second.

Either way, once his business in this rural town was concluded—preferably as soon as possible—he’d be gone with the wind.

Still, watching you sit on the edge of your seat all night, cheering him on—seeing you become the happiest person in the room when he won, jumping around...

...Alright, maybe he’d visit from time to time. His role as the popular gambler in town was starting to grow on him. So why not turn this place into a recreational spot for those occasional breaks from work?

A town where no one knew of the little slave worth sixty red copper coins.

A place where he could be someone other than the bearer of Aventurine of Stratagems, one of the Ten Stonehearts.

The undefeated gambler of the rural town, surrounded by his own audience, including you.

For a short time, he entertained such an idea.

But unfortunately, all good things must come to an end.

✦✦⟡✦✦

His side project was finally yielding results. However, progress was slow and didn't reflect the blood, sweat, and tears he had invested.

Duane, oh, Duane. How can you still give me a massive headache when you’re on a planet seven light-years away?

“—You! That custom-made suit is way more expensive than mine! What’s an Avgin like you doing in something like that?!”

Standing in front of him was Billy Burnett, the local loan shark and one of his targets. The flashy, rotund man with a bald head had walked into the trap himself. Of course, at the moment, he didn’t realize it yet.

...And, as expected of Duane’s cohorts, Billy was quite vocal about his aversion toward Aventurine’s kin.

“Mr. Billy, isn’t it? I appreciate your eagerness in challenging me to a match—”

“—Cut the crap! I heard that you’ve been treating Duane real nice! I’m here to settle the score—wait... Is that... the legendary Cygnus Emerald?!”

Billy’s nostrils flared as his beady eyes were transfixed on the gem on Aventurine’s chest. As he spoke, his breathing was getting rougher and rougher.

“My eyes are up here. And yes, it is the Cygnus Emerald.” Aventurine gave him a smile.

Aventurine had noted that Billy had an eye for quality. They were similar in that they were both attracted to and appreciated nice things. Personally, there was just something irresistible about the luster of certain jewels, and he couldn’t help but get his hands on them.

They could never be friends, though. Aventurine wouldn’t stoop to prying a jewel from a dying man’s hand or ruining an entire family like the man before him. And, unlike Duane, he had no interest in funding an old man’s lifestyle.

Billy likely didn’t want to either, especially since Aventurine had cut off one of his main sources of income. Besides offering high-interest, predatory loans and refinancing debts—you know, the usual—Billy could also be paid to harass a specific individual or a family.

“I-I challenge you! If I win, that emerald is mine!” Billy was a slobbering mess as he proposed this.

Should you really be making it THIS easy for me?

Now, Billy seemed genuinely eager to challenge him to a match instead of just beating him to a bloody mess. Originally, he’d planned to entice the old man with unimaginable wealth, anyway.

Then, violet-cyan eyes narrowed as their owner grinned.

“Fine. I’ll consider it.”

“W-what?! What’s that supposed to mean?!" Billy looked absolutely dumbfounded.

“It means exactly that. I have a long line of opponents waiting to challenge me. So, see you next month, or maybe next year.”

“But what about my emerald?!”

“Let’s hope it’s still available next time.”

Seeing Billy gnashing his teeth and clenching his fist, Aventurine’s smirk deepened.

Baring your desire to an enemy like that...

“How much do you want?! I’ll pay you, so face me!”

Then, came such a cliché line. One might be tempted to ask, ‘doesn’t that defeat the whole purpose of gambling?’

Well, it was because bad people weren’t necessarily stupid.

Even with all the wealth Billy had accumulated, including the one he gained from exploiting the massive policy change in this rural town, it still wouldn't be enough to afford the Cygnus Emerald. Billy must’ve known this was his one real chance to claim it.

...This single-minded desperation—didn't it remind him of someone he knew all too well? Although this one was blinded by greed.

“Oh, I don’t need your money. But I do need something else from you. Think of it as an entrance fee, if you like.”

“What is it?! Out with it!!”

“Tell me everything you know about Duane Stoyanova’s involvement in Project LAZU-R17: E from a few years back.”

“Deal!”

The greedy pig didn’t even miss a beat. He threw Duane under the bus while painting himself as a saint. Of course, Aventurine recorded the whole thing.

Well, there you go, Duane.

Undoubtedly, Duane told Billy of Aventurine’s most recent treatment of him, hoping the latter would avenge him.

This is why you don’t invest in an overly greedy piece.

“Alright, then. I challenge you to a game of poker.”

Even though Aventurine had gotten what he came for, he still fulfilled his end of the bargain, purely for formality's sake.

What followed was the most mind-numbing, soul-crushing, life-draining, and joy-sapping poker match known to man.

Billy had his lackeys prepare a substantial amount of money before wagering a measly sum every round, hoping to cheat the Goddess of Fortune and win the emerald through sheer luck and nearly infinite attempts.

Does he think I’m a toy vending machine that will drop the ultimate prize once he pulls enough?

Aventurine wondered how much more he could endure. Several times, he had been tempted to hand Billy a death sentence on the spot instead of having him arrested and tried later.

...Right, he’d be a dead man after this. Just a bit more.

Those words were his only salvation amidst the crushing boredom.

He also cheered himself up. With Billy Burnett gone, the leverage on victims of the incident from a few years back would disappear. Things should be slightly easier after this.

Essentially, he was controlling an existing fire, preventing it from spreading and going out of control—an especially tall order when all sides were out for their own. Not that he could blame them; he was only doing this to avoid catching fire himself. Once again, courtesy of Duane for making this his problem!

Now, all he had to do was preserve the thin, delicate wick while gradually snuffing out the fire until it was completely extinguished.

So far, everything was going smoothly, exactly as he had predicted.

But then, a third person showed up at their table.

⟡⟡✦⟡⟡

“Good evening, esteemed guests. We've noticed how long you've been with us, and as you mentioned, the night is getting dull! So, I was sent to hopefully stave off some of your boredom! It’s a pleasure to serve you tonight!”

Did you finally muster up the courage to talk to me? Even going as far as to pretend to be a waiter?

For a brief moment, Aventurine entertained the thought. After all, it was simply too amusing.

He’d known all along—the yearning looks you’d been sending his way all night couldn’t have been more obvious. He was merely ignoring them.

Also, yes, “pretend to be a waiter.”

Aventurine had set Primavera as a neutral ground for this ongoing side project. So, naturally, he’d memorized all the staff and you clearly weren’t among them. At the same time, he knew how tight-lipped and secretive the staff were. It was highly unlikely they would simply hand over their signature uniform for you to cosplay in.

What is happening here?

Aventurine swiftly racked his brain, trying to figure out the situation.

After a grueling battle that lasted over a month, he’d like to think that he’d somewhat won over the reserved staff members. Well, calling it a “ceasefire” would probably be more appropriate. Regardless, the staff members must’ve understood the significance of this meeting, as they could be considered victims themselves.

If an additional cast were to join the meeting, the staff should have notified him beforehand...

...Unless there was a breach of trust somewhere.

His multicolored eyes scanned the lively crowd dancing at the venue before stopping at a specific spot.

A dapper youth with dark blue hair stood near the DJ set, exuding solemn dignity. He was none other than the manager of this place, Marius. The stoic and highly-cynical youth was the reason why Aventurine had to put up with that tedious battle that lasted over a month in the first place.

Did Marius deem him untrustworthy in the end, preferring to aid the enemy instead?

Yet, Aventurine noticed that the dark-haired youth was staring at his table with an uncharacteristically tense expression. Did Marius not expect this as well?

Aventurine also knew that Primavera had many branches across the world. After the stunt he had pulled, it wouldn’t be surprising if the parent company sent someone to this rural town to monitor the situation. Given that the CEO of Primavera had been pestering him more frequently lately, the possibility was quite high. If that were the case, not even Marius, who was merely a manager, would have any say in this.

It would also explain why you kept an eye on him, even after he switched to a weekly schedule—or your newfound courage and surprising charisma, along with your magic talent.

When all these coincidences overlapped, they pointed to one answer—one plausible explanation.

“This one is dedicated to you, Mr. Big Ba—ahem, Mr. Billy Burnett. We always appreciate how sharply-dressed you are. So fiery, you stand out wherever you are.”

“Hoho! Astute judgment! Did you know? This shirt alone cost more than all the wages of the staff here combined!”

“—I can only think of one flower to symbolize you. Would you like to guess what is it?”

“Ahaha! I don’t care about some grasses, so you tell me!”

“Of course, Sir! It’s right within my hand! ...Oh, no.”

“Huh—?! Where did they go—?! Are you trying to make a fool of me—?!”

“Of course not, Sir! The flower is just shying away because of the man you are!”

As he watched you perform your magic show, displaying your expertise and deftness, he grew more convinced of it.

Honestly, if that were the extent of it, he would have turned a blind eye to the whole thing.

“How did it get there?! Especially when you never took out my wallet!”

But then you slipped a wallet and a phone into Billy Burnett’s pocket. Above all, they turned out to be that man’s belongings all along.

Now, Aventurine would understand if you held a grudge against Billy and decided to pickpocket him. But to return them? That single action gave rise to unending questions.

Were you Billy’s spy? Was this whole thing a sham? Did Billy purposely challenge him as a distraction while placing you elsewhere to gather information? Had you just returned from fulfilling your task? ...How much did you figure out?

The possibilities were endless, yet they all led to a single path: doom. In a war, the side with the most information won.

Your magic performance for Billy was coming to an end.

“That was so amazing! I like you! Your name is Ashpuddle, right?! Can we—”

“—What about me?”

To buy more time to decide how best to deal with you, Aventurine spoke.

“—Last but not least!”

“Oh?”

As expected, you came prepared and threw a little magic show for him.

“To your beautiful eyes, Aventurine.”

“...!”

He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t the slightest bit thrilled, especially when you gave him the handcrafted bouquet.

Then, as the curtains truly dropped on your magic performance, Aventurine saw Billy leering at you, licking and smacking his lips. Was it out of perverted desire, or was Billy simply eager to reap the fruits of your labor?

He still couldn’t determine which was the truth.

Either way, if his suspicions were correct, once you and Billy stepped out of this place, it would be all over for everyone. God knows what the two of you had in store out there.

Knowing the chain of events he would set in motion if he let the enemy outmaneuver him, could he really afford to take that gamble?

In that case—

“—Leaving so soon?”

Aventurine reached for you, pulling you into his arms.

“Huh...?”

“It’s amazing, what you did with the phone and the wallet.”

He just had to keep his enemy closer.

✦✦⟡✦✦

Okay, maybe not this close—but Aventurine couldn’t help himself.

Seeing how nervous you were reminded him of a frightened rabbit being forced to sit on a human’s lap. While it was cute and all, he was more curious about the source of your fear. Given that you’d been literally captured by the enemy, it would make sense if you were afraid of him, but it seemed you were just as afraid of Billy.

“What’s this? Mr. Aventurine can’t keep his hands off her, too? I get it! Such an interesting woman she is!”

Without missing a beat, Billy butted in, thinking they were on the same boat. Aventurine could feel you stiffen in his arms.

“Yes, I’m quite taken by her.”

Various thoughts formed in his mind, but they were merely conjectures.

“Kehehe! Of course, of course... So, after you are done with her... Can I...?”

Living up to his name, the pig, who constantly indulged in debauchery despite having a family at home, made a display of his wanton desire.

“No.”

Then, seeing how flustered you were, Aventurine threw in a small trick question.

“...Or would you rather go to him instead?”

Everything would be much easier if you had caved and chosen to go to Billy. Once he knew whose side you were on, he’d have no qualms about crushing you both.

Hence, he hoped that you wouldn’t.

When you softly shook your head and clung to him, his lips curved into a smile.

“Good answer.”

Now, the only task remaining was to wring every bit of information out of this little spy.

⟡⟡✦⟡⟡

Saying he didn’t expect you to be a spy would be a lie. He’d even say he saw it coming.

Aventurine had considerable experience with women who were spies, as well as with those who turned out to be spies.

However, whether you were, say, an ace in your field, was another matter entirely.

Of course, the thought of seducing you to his side had crossed his mind. But then he realized he had his work cut out for him.

“Ms. Aschenputtel?”

The moment he called your alias, you turned around in a hurry, rushing to meet his gaze, only to falter a second later. Heat bloomed across your cheeks like fire.

Apparently, despite your false name, position, role, identity, and persona, your feelings for him were genuine.

“...W-w-what is, it?” you asked, stumbling over your words.

He struggled to contain his amusement. Then again, even this could be an act. So, he tried to test the water, but eventually stopped, for both your sake. He couldn’t exactly extract information from a fainted person, could he?

Aah, seriously... What kind of spies are they sending my way these days?

Surely, his huge achievement in reclaiming Penacony should raise his threat level quite a bit? He’d expected a spy who could easily double as an assassin, but sending someone who couldn’t keep a poker face and spilled her cards all over the table? Now, that was a unique approach.

Well, it was certainly innovative. One couldn’t spill information if they couldn’t speak properly—or were unconscious.

At the same time, it almost made him wish that you were his opponent instead. But rather than poker, he’d invite you to a game of rummy. He’d drag it out as long as possible, giving you the illusion that he was about to take the joker, only to switch at the last minute. Merely imagining the kind of expression you’d make tickled him.

Midway, Aventurine noticed you were nervously picking at your nails, to the point they were about to bleed. When he tried to put a stop to it, a small accident occurred.

Thus, you were right in front of him, dangerously close.

“I-I-I didn’t mean to...!”

Somehow, it was possible for you to turn redder than you already were.

“You didn’t mean to do what? Did you do something?”

“I—... no, it’s nothing.”

As you spoke, your lips shifted delicately before him.

When you tried to pull back, he moved forward, until only the slightest thread of reason stood between you.

He was aware of what he was doing, just as he knew he should be eliciting answers from these quivering lips, instead of sealing them with his playful banter—or his own.

“Haha! Don’t people usually apologize after they had done something?”

So instead, he leaned closer to your ear. Out of sight, out of mind.

“—So, Ms. Aschenputtel, do something to me first.”

Would he have preferred it if you had fallen for that?

✦✦⟡✦✦

Aventurine had always wondered how his first proper meeting with you would unfold.

And so far, everything was as he’d imagined.

The bashful you were unable to stare directly into his eyes, yet would sneak glances from time to time.

When spoken to directly, you'd become so flustered and blush furiously, making it impossible for him to resist teasing you even more.

When he pretended to be contemplating his hand, you’d watch anxiously, and when he placed it on the table, you’d watch with bated breath.

When he offered to treat you to delicious desserts, your eyes lit up instantly as you agreed without hesitation, throwing all caution to the wind.

“Then, what kind of desserts do you like? Any foods you avoid due to allergies?"

“I’ll go with whatever Ms. Aschen likes. Allergies? Eh. Sure, I have that, I guess. But I can't remember what food I'm allergic to. It’s nothing to worry about.”

He really couldn’t remember.

Faintly, he recalled the deeply worried look on his sister’s face, but that was it.

In the past, there was a time when he almost went without food and had to drink from puddles in the street. So, he couldn’t care less about food allergies—neither then nor now.

He’d survive it all, anyway.

Besides, to trigger an allergic reaction, he’d have to eat the food first. Meanwhile, wherever he went, he rarely touched the food, unless it was absolutely necessary, usually to put on a show.

“Then, may I bring your attention to our mini fruit tarts? We always make the cream from scratch and use the freshest fruits!”

What he didn’t expect was for you to explain the menu to him so thoughtfully and considerately. Or maybe, knowing you, it was to be expected.

“—Ah, but you can consume dairy, right?”

“Yep, no problem at all. This one sounds good, we can order it.”

“Let’s avoid nuts because you might be allergic to it.”

“Fine with me.”

“As for this red velvet cheesecake—...”

Hearing your well-put explanation made him consider requesting that you serve his table every time he visited and explain the dishes.

At the same time, he grew convinced—so maybe, you were the waiter of Primavera after all.

In that case...

“We haven’t ordered drinks yet.”

Just as you were about to place your order, he lightheartedly suggested.

Then, you made a surprising offer.

“Then, shall I recommend you our specialty? Lazuli Bells!”

...Well, well.

“May I know why?”

Aventurine asked while studying your expression.

A coincidence? Or a code of some sort?

Of course, after the series of ‘coincidences’ you’d introduced to the table, he found the former to be the most unlikely.

“...Do you not like flowery concoctions? If so—”

“Nah. I’m more interested in the reason why you recommended it in the first place.”

“B-because it’s my favorite drink...”

You predictably shrank under his gaze, growing more and more nervous. You were unlikely to lie in this state.

“...Interesting. Why do you like it?”

“Because the drink is really flavorful, refreshing, and not to mention, aromatic! Above all, the colors really did it for me! They are so pretty, just like Aventurine’s eyes!”

While he expected you to blurt out your honest thoughts, he hadn’t anticipated you’d respond without a second thought—and with that smile, too.

The remark was nothing new. Everyone he met had commented on his multicolored eyes at least once. If anything, the speed of your delivery, as if you’d rehearsed it multiple times, should’ve made him suspect you had prepared a script.

Yet, in an instant, a certain memory flashed across his mind, as vivid as if it were yesterday.

A memory of a certain drunken girl.

He quickly dismissed the thought, staring intently at you, who were dressed in a waiter uniform, with a black butterfly mask on your face.

“...Please ignore that. You heard nothing. I didn’t say anything.”

“Of course. Did you say anything just now?”

So, he let you go. For the time being, anyway.

Besides, if he wanted to extort the truth from you, there was a much more reliable, if not surefire, way.

“Fine, I accept. Shall we place our order?”

Then, as you buried your face in the menu, Aventurine shot the Dealer a glance.

Sensing the implication behind his gaze, the Dealer grimaced; his golden eyes narrowing in guilt.

The ashen-haired man’s sense of righteousness must be kicking in. Aventurine expected nothing less from the Hero of Penacony—or rather, that was why he chose him as a sidekick.

With enemies hounding him from all sides, Aventurine wanted a piece that behaved exactly as he expected, precisely the way he wanted, based on what he knew they would or wouldn’t do.

Who could be more perfect for the role than the man who danced alongside him until the exact moment he plummeted into the Sea of Nihility?

Above all, not only was the man aware of the importance of this meeting, but he also possessed a great deal of reasoning ability.

A regular customer suddenly approached their table, dressed as a waiter. Then, she performed various magic tricks while returning Billy's belongings into his pocket. Coincidence? Ha! As if!

And the man, the Dealer, was aware of this too. Resolving himself, he gave Aventurine a faint nod and went straight to fetch the orders.

Then, Aventurine turned to you again.

As he teased you, he thought to himself.

Ms. Aschen, did you know?

Every time he entertained the mass as everyone’s favorite gambler, he had to go through a set of procedures to ensure that there was no foul play.

Including, but not limited to, drinking the Truth Serum.

The rules applied to everyone who sat on this particular table to this very day.

Now, since you’ve come to play with me, isn’t it only fair that you abide by the rules?

I’d assume that you’re well aware of this, since your manager was the one who came up with it.

So, if you want to blame anyone, blame him.

In exchange, he’d give you the whole truth—words devoid of any lies, just as he had been the entire time, from the beginning, after drinking the serum at the start of the game.

✦✦⟡✦✦

You weren’t lying when you said it was your favorite drink, alright.

The moment your order arrived, you didn’t hesitate to dig in. And, of course, you started with the drink. Whichever glass you picked didn’t matter—both were laced. He simply sent his sidekick to ensure the bartender followed through.

Then, without any hesitation, you sipped it using the readily available straw.

Seeing how defenseless and careless you were somewhat astonished him.

Ms. Aschen, shouldn’t you be more wary of food offered by a stranger?

After taking a sip, you remarked about how tasty and refreshing the drink was. To seamlessly blend the taste of flowers, berries, and Truth Serum... Once again, the one and only bartender of that place had showcased his talent.

As for the Truth Serum itself, the family that owned the Primavera had ties to the mafia, so procuring it shouldn’t be difficult, as evidenced by the fact that they always had something ready for him every week.

Of course, Aventurine had a surefire way to counter it: just don’t lie and omit the truth.

Due to his status, he could speak freely without worrying about any consequences. When it was something he had no business saying, he simply wouldn’t. Why put himself at a disadvantage?

—Anyway, the serum, extremely effective in interrogating spies and old enemies, simply made it impossible to tell a lie.

“...Did you especially choose this one so I’d lick your fingers clean?”

“!!”

Especially when that person was feeling flustered or panicked.

Like you are right now.

“Ms. Aschen, there’s cream on your cheek.”

“Eh? Where—...!!!!!!!!”

However, that wasn’t why he drew nearer and kissed your spotless cheek.

The sight of you eating with gusto, which he had only glimpsed a few times until today, was now right in front of him—so sweet, in fact, that he couldn’t resist taking a bite.

“Cough! Hack! Cough!”

But then, you suddenly broke into a coughing fit, and he instinctively pushed a glass of drink to you.

“Oh no... Here. Have a drink.”

At first, he thought nothing of it. He had tested it. He’d been drinking the Truth Serum for almost a month now, without any side effects. It couldn’t be tampered with either, as the Dealer was there to supervise the entire process. Or could this be the ‘allergy’ that you mentioned?

Just as he was about to pull back his hand holding the drink and call for an ambulance, you seemed to recover. Only then did he realize he’d been holding his breath.

Meanwhile, you gave the drink he offered an odd stare.

“Aventurine, that is your own glass.”

In turn, he looked down at his own hand, realizing that what you said was true.

One reason he was uneasy about the drink was due to the implications it carried.

Before going on a mission, he would usually research the local culture and history to aid his operation and coordinate his attire. That was how he learned about a certain local custom tied to this drink—the Lazurite Bells.

A pair of lovers would drink from each other’s cup to profess their undying love, weaving their destinies under the starry sky and the flowers that mirrored it. Basically, a marriage proposal.

Since you worked here and were likely a native, there was no way you wouldn’t know.

Hence, he was apprehensive about ordering it at first. He didn’t want to give the wrong signals. He had plenty of experience dealing with people who deliberately misinterpreted gestures or cues to suit their own convenience. Unless the need arose, he avoided engaging with such individuals, knowing it would only lead to more trouble down the road.

And yet, this ended up happening.

A coincidence that could only be called fate was brought about by his own hand.

Perhaps, if he were just an ordinary man, he’d have believed in destiny and even rejoiced at the turn of events.

Aventurine shook off the thought—it was neither here nor there.

“...Or so luck would have it.”

After a momentary silence, he uttered that. Unbeknownst to anyone, he was ridiculing his own luck.

You seemed to mull over his words, and it occurred to him belatedly that he could just play along. So, Aventurine took a sip out of your glass and grinned.

“There, we’re even now.”

True enough, this gesture sent you into deep thought as you stared at him, mesmerized.

No way, did she really misunderstand?

“—Hello? Earth to Ms. Aschen?”

“S-sorry... I was just thinking...”

“What were you thinking about?”

As he asked you, he narrowed his eyes, a slow, knowing smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He was certain you wouldn't be able to look away, your gaze drawn to him.

Even the question itself was deliberately phrased to make you confess everything on your mind.

He expected you to fawn over his previous gesture, completely misunderstanding it, at which point he’d tell you outright: it meant nothing. But he was hoping he’d get lucky and you’d fess up about your entire ploy tonight.

Earlier, he’d pointed out why you weren’t the best spy. But as time passed, he noticed you fidgeting restlessly, increasingly preoccupied—no doubt, your own mission weighing on your mind.

You can let it all out, Ms. Aschen.

Don’t let them bother you anymore.

I promise that I’ll show you mercy.

He watched you closely, waiting for the moment your lips parted, offering him nothing but the truth.

“...The real ones look so much prettier.”

As you spoke of these words, your gaze briefly landed upon the drink and then his eyes. You stared with such intensity that, for a moment, he struggled to maintain eye contact.

A gaze that wasn’t probing or scrutinizing, but simply that of someone admiring something beautiful—so straightforward, he couldn’t even convince himself otherwise.

✦✦⟡✦✦

He wasn't in a rush to get answers from you, but he knew he was purposely taking his time.

But now, he couldn’t prolong it anymore—he mustn’t, lest he caved.

He might be a gambler, but he was also a businessman. He never bet on anything that yielded no returns, much less something that only resulted in losses.

Not even the unluckiest gambler, burdened with debts so vast that not even his entire generation could pay them off, gambled with the intention of losing—let alone a businessman.

Whenever he casted his bet, he set his sights on the target, risking it all for that one particular outcome. After all, it was only common sense.

Someone who blindly threw his chips in, convinced by his own fallacy that he’d eventually win big, was simply a gambling addict.

Someone who ran his business into the ground, without a firm footing and blinded by the illusion of something grand, was an undeniably shitty businessman.

These facts were so obvious to him, as clear as being asked the color of the sky.

And yet, a few times now, as he spent time with you, he found himself tempted to place his wager: to bet that it was all a coincidence, to bet that it was fate, to bet on believing in you.

A wager with almost guaranteed losses, followed by further setbacks.

And yet, despite his better judgment, his impulse threatened to take over.

Hence, this mustn’t go on.

“I haven’t tipped you for your incredible service tonight, have I?”

✦✦⟡✦✦

He had a repertoire of methods to extract answers, but since he was pressed for time and it wasn’t a priority, he had to choose the most effective and time-efficient approach—and finally, he settled on this one.

“This is just a little something.”

Thus, he gave his flawless sapphire collar pin to you.

Don’t be mistaken, he did intend to tip you. What he purposefully left out was that it was also an upfront payment.

While you were still wide-eyed and awestruck from just landing rich, he reached for the emerald on his chest. Cygnus Emerald.

“WOOOW!!!”

“OMG!!!”

As he placed it in your palm, the crowd erupted in cheers. To them, he must’ve appeared like a lovestruck fool, eager to part with his money just to please his lady.

“This is the most precious item on my person right now,” he added, sounding sincere.

In reality, it wasn’t. Throughout his life, he had only ever owned two precious items: a scrap of cloth, worth less than a thousandth of the gem, left by his late father, and another lost in the dunes. There would never be a third.

Hence, the keyword “on my person right now.”

“Wait—” “—WAIT A DAMN SECOND!!! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!”

Sure enough, seeing the one and only thing he’d been coveting from the start falling into another’s hand, Billy blew a fuse. At the same time, Aventurine noticed a few people clad in leather jackets turning this way. They had been blending with the crowd until now.

Good grief. Looks like he never intended to let me go from the start...

Including those who openly served Billy, there were around thirty of them. He made a mental note of them and shot a glance to the Dealer, who nodded in understanding. Once again, having a sharp-witted sidekick was really handy.

“This isn’t what we agreed upon!! Why are you giving those precious stones to a goddamn waiter?!”

Amidst that, the conversation switched to the value of the gem.

“They are flawless gems! Especially that emerald! It’s Cygnus Emerald! It’s worth at least 170,000,000,000,000Credits!”

Since Aventurine was conditioned not to lie, he kindly added, “Not exactly. The mine has since closed down, so it's the rarest of the rare—probably worth five times that amount.”

Like fuel poured onto a fire, Billy's eyes blazed with greed. Meanwhile, you looked thunderstruck.

While maintaining a relaxed front, Aventurine wondered: what’s the big deal?

The emerald was undeniably captivating, and knowing he was one of the few in the world to own it fed his vanity. Yet, in the end, it was as worthless as anything else money could buy. Although it did serve its purpose, nonetheless.

“Haa...! See, this is why a slave like you is hopeless! You’re blind to its worth, which is why you gave it away to a rando! They are wasted on you!”

When Billy uttered those words, some in the vicinity—including you—became appalled. To you and everyone else, it probably seemed like things were heating up and that Billy was getting personal.

However, as surprising as it might sound, Billy was trying to be helpful, at least in that moment. Aventurine had seen his reproachful gaze and heard the admonishment in his tone.

Surely, even without drinking Truth Serum, that man would have said the same thing, in the same manner, thinking he was helping a lowly slave who lacked an eye for value.

This simple observation, made to pass the time, quickly slipped from his mind.

“Ave-Aventurine...”

“Hm?”

Suddenly, he heard your voice from beside him and turned around.

When he saw the look on your face, he became confused.

Why do you look so pale? What could be the problem?

Were you shaken by Billy’s offensive remark?

So, he asked in the friendliest tone he could muster, “What do you think of those gems? Do you like them?”

When you were still on his lap, he always did that to break the ice, and it worked. But this time, you never recovered.

“I-I think they’re pretty, but I don’t think I can accept them—”

If anything, as you answered with an unfocused gaze, you seemed to shrink more and more.

As he pondered why, it suddenly occurred to him.

...Ah, right.

Didn’t Billy let it slip that he was a slave? Since it was like a universal knowledge, he just assumed that everyone already knew. But could it be that you didn’t?

I see.

So, you didn’t know.

It didn’t matter either way.

“Haa...”

An almost inaudible, empty gasp leaked from his lips.

If anything, it only made sense. It certainly provided a simpler explanation for your behavior until recently. However, it didn’t explain your refusal of his gift, especially when you had been holding it so preciously—even now.

Unable to figure out why, he asked you, “Why? Because a slave gave them to you?”

Now that you knew, were you afraid that he might starve or something? Or did you start having reservations already?

Due to the nature of his job, he interacted with big shots and influential figures almost daily. During those exchanges, it was not uncommon for him to give gifts as a gesture of friendliness and politeness. However, upon learning about his past, some of those figures didn’t hesitate to throw it back in his face—both literally and metaphorically. To nobles like them, receiving a gift from a slave was an insult. No matter how precious the gift, the fact that it came from a slave tainted it.

As for you, working in such a high-profile establishment like Primavera, you had probably developed a refined taste.

Were you hesitant because they might be counterfeit? Did you suspect that he was playing you for a fool?

Regardless of what came after, his intention to give you that emerald and sapphire collar pin was sincere.

“Ms. Aschenputtel, I may be worth only a few measly coins, but I can assure you that my gifts are not.”

So, he reassured you.

However, whether those words, coming from a slave of little worth, held any value to you, he didn't know—and probably never would.

“If you dislike them that much, you may place them on the table over there.”

The dice had been thrown.

“Aventurine, it’s not like that—"

“—Hahahaha! Of course! Of course she doesn’t know! That's what you get for letting his looks fool you!”

All the preparations were complete, and the cast members were in their respective spots.

“Do you know how hard I’ve been holding back my laugh?! I was wondering how to break the news this whole time! Hahahaha!”

Now, all that was left was to spectate.

Determined to get his hands on the emerald at all costs, Billy would undoubtedly be hostile toward you. Under such a pressure, there was no way someone as green as you could maintain your composure. What kind of truth would you blabber in that moment?

Indeed, the method he had arrived at was to pit you against Billy.

He’d be able to determine whose side you were on while also ensuring that Billy never got what he wanted—essentially killing two birds with one stone. In return, you received abundant wealth. Granted, if whoever hired you isn't too stingy and allows you to keep everything.

While the two of you were at it, he reclined against the plush sofa, resting one leg on top of the other. He reached for his leftover drink—a glass of Lazuli Bell—and tipped it slightly toward you, as if offering a toast.

Cheers to your newfound wealth.

In exchange, you’ll give me a good show, won’t you?

“Serves you right, you shallow bitch! How does it feel to find out that you’ve been latching onto shit painted with gold?! Now, hand them over!”

No longer playing nice, Billy hurled all sorts of curses at you, reaching for the jewels. In response, you clutched them tightly, pulling them away from him.

His lips, only an inch from the glass, curved into a grin.

Money shows true colors.

Naturally, this made Billy furious.

“Fucking whore! Do you think I was asking you?! Before, I was kind enough to offer you payment, but now you can forget about it! Just wait and see if I don’t make your life hell!”

He saw you tense up in fear and averted his gaze.

Seeing that you came all the way here to join their table, you should at least be prepared for this, right?

“You know what? There was a waiter just like you—acting all high and mighty and being stubborn for no reason. In the end, I had that stupid cunt begging on her knees, crying. That was the last anyone ever heard of her.”

As more insults were thrown your way, a hot, stifling sensation welled up in his chest, rising uncontrollably. In exasperation, Aventurine tore open the front of his shirt to let off steam, but to no avail.

Thinking that a sip might cool him off, he lifted the glass to his lips.

The violet, cyan, and navy liquid sparkled before him, radiating the transparency and brilliance of a crystal. In contrast, his eyes, reflected in the colorful surface, appeared bleak—like the depths of the sea where sunlight could never reach.

So, how could they be prettier?

Therefore, you had to be mistaken.

Ms. Aschenputtel, you shouldn’t idolize someone too much.

From what he’d seen tonight, your feelings toward him seemed to be genuine.

However, he only cared about ‘what is’ and ‘what isn’t.’

You matched your schedule with his, then joined his table as a waiter, doing questionable things that could be seen as aiding his enemy—it was as simple as that. Anything beyond that was mere conjecture.

Still, if...

If.

He realized he'd been using that word more often lately, even though there shouldn't be an 'if' in his world.

If.

If, somehow, miraculously, it turned out that you were still the same girl from that night.

“...Hic, your eyes, they are, hic... so pretty.”

That drunken girl who couldn’t even tell left from right...

Just then, a voice broke him out of his reverie.

“Of course I know, you piece of shit!”

A voice so firm, it no longer carried the stuttering shyness from before, followed by a dull snap.

╚══════╝

🄾🄽🅆🄰🅁🄳 🅃🄾 【Ｃｈａｐｔｅｒ８】

#aventurine fanart #honkai star rail #aventurine x reader #hsr aventurine #aventurine #aventurine x you #aventurine x y/n #aventurine honkai star rail #fanfic #fanart #hsr fanart #hsr x reader #star rail aventurine #aventurine hsr #fortifiedwagerfic #hsr x you #hsr art #hsr fanfic #honkai star rail fanart

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slash-me-please · 1 month ago

Note

Hello! Nice day, afternoon or evening. :)

I wanted to see if you could and if you wanted to do a post where the Slashers have a S/o who is very calm, (not a very strawberry girl type, no!)I mean, more like calm, maybe curious and so, as if she were on drugs! And suddenly she has her most sadistic and/or wild side.

(I hope that I have been understood ;"( ) (Oh, you can add whoever, but if you can, especially Stu, from ghostface, Hannibal "The series" and Michael Myers :>)

Please :}

Warnings: Descriptions of murder, blood, sexual tension

A/N: I hope this is what you were hoping for, or at least something close to it. I decided to do a little blurb instead of headcanons, I hope this is okay with you :) I have not wrote for hannibal for a while- so i hope this isn't ooc. I feel like I kinda took on my own idea, I wasn't sure with how to make reader sadistic without going the whole "shes a slasher too" which is a trope I will continue to hate until my days end. I got my inspo from Secretary (2002)

Rebirth

Each day had been unexciting for you, unenjoyable. You had fun in erratic ways- ways erratic for you. Your coworkers saw you as anyone normal, you sipped your coffee quietly at your desk in the mornings- the New York Times crossword of the day clasped tightly in the other hand. You weren't sure you ever wrote any of the answers down as much as you pondered the words on the paper.

Before you met Hannibal, a psychiatrist that your friend Will introduced you to, you spent your nights with a wild look in your eyes. Nothing brought that spice to your life that you craved. None of the past boyfriends ever had the same ideas- they had all been boring. Your first love always teased you about it, laughing about how he must have changed you for the worst. You let him have it, he wasn't correct- you didn't bother wasting the time to correct him. In a way, you had changed. That edge, the sharp curve you had at the young age of nineteen, the one which ignited your fire had long since been extinguished. You searched for a serenity in men that people spoke of- a willing, open man. You'd like to hide what you need from the public eye- and you wonder if that makes you a genius or a coward while your first love bent you over the seat of his motorcycle.

Taking a swig of your coffee, you type away at your desk. Your employer had you entering different numbers and words into some type of document, boring work. Your eyes shift to your phone screen just as it lights up, a text from your newest cover-up boyfriend, Hannibal.

"Please arrive at precisely six p.m. for dinner,"

A simple text, one you could easily follow. Your eyes glanced at the clock, 2:43 p.m. You pressed the power button on your computer.

"Hannibal!" You knocked on the door, it fell open with a squeak. You took it as an invitation, stepping inside and shutting the door behind you. "Hannibal! I'm a little early but I thought maybe you would want help?" Still no reply. You walk through the hallway and into the kitchen. Standing still, you take a breath in and examine your surroundings. It's almost dead quiet, and then you hear a sound you cannot quite describe. Your chins shifts upwards towards a vent and goosebumps erupt on your skin.

A crack resounds, bouncing off the metal walls and ringing in your ears. Then a thump, a loud thump. You're suddenly inspired to make your way to Hannibal's bedroom, the door is shut and you wrap around the handle and breathe in an excited breath. The door swings open, and you gasp. Your boyfriend hovers over your first love, his hand is holding the wooden handle of- what looked like one of the emergency axes that you'd find nestled in the glass box of a professional building. His head is split, blood seeping into the cream colored carpet, also rolling in thick puddles over the hardwood floor.

"Hannibal?" "I told you, six."

Your eyes dilate and you take a few steps closer. He watches you, curious when you start to giggle. "Is this dinner?" He stays silent, you expect it almost, you don't care for his answer anyways. You step to the side, sliding your heels off and stepping forward into the puddle of blood. "There's no need to ruin a good pair of shoes." You gasp, falling onto your knees and setting your hands face down into the liquid soul. You feel it explore the creases of your hands, soaking your pantyhose and you cackle out something evil. "I fucking hated them all."

"When the detectives question you, you'll be heartbroken." He steps closer to you, avoiding the dirtied floor. Hannibal takes pleasure when you nod and lean forwards. "I'm heartbroken." He lifts his hand and brings it to your head, guiding it down to help you press your cheek onto the cold floor. "Go shower, I have to get started cooking."

#horror x reader #slasher x reader #Hannibal Lecter x reader #Hannibal x reader

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cosmicoatlatte · 5 months ago

Text

John 'Bucky' Egan - first base

word count: 3.0k

summary: getting abandoned by your friend during a night out might not be the worst thing...

warnings: mentions of drinking, misogyny/sexism surrounding dating

authors note: this is my first work for mota and even though it took me a lot longer than i expected i really hope you'll like it

By the time you reached the dance hall your little kitten heels had taken on a reddish brown hue from the dusty walkway. The evening was filled with music and chatter, the scent of tobacco hanging in the air.

“Come on.” Your friend Dorothy tugged on your linked arms, urging you to hurry up. Going dancing on base had been her idea, to celebrate your promotion —the youngest head of secretaries in any of the departments— but you suspected an ulterior motive on her end. It was no secret that she was sweet on the soldiers.

“I’m coming, Dotty. No need to rush.”

Several pairs of eyes watched as you approached the door, making you just a little nervous. There was a reason you didn’t go out as often as the other girls in the department.

You tried to look around to avoid any strange looks but the first thing you saw was a couple in the shadow of the building, a soldier holding his sweetheart against the building as they kissed, far too passionately this out in the open. Your eyes immediately snapped back towards the entrance door while you tried to ignore the heat in your cheeks. Maybe going out hadn’t been such a good idea.

A fresh faced soldier opened the door for the pair of you with a wide grin that quickly slipped as Dotty winked at him. His eyes followed her until you were further inside and you leaned over to talk to her over the noise. “Must you flirt with every uniform? That boy didn’t look a day over eighteen.”

She just laughed in response, dragging you along the edge of the dance floor, expertly maneuvering through intertwined couples and groups of men standing around. “Relax, would you. That flirting got us a table so shush.”

Half an hour later you found yourself abandoned at the table, Dotty having gone to get a drink twenty minutes ago. The music wasn’t bad and you nodded along to one or two songs but without company your anxiousness turned into boredom. It took another song for Dot to turn back up but instead of a drink she brought a befuddled looking blond.

“I found you a friend.” She declared, pushing him towards the table before either of you could protest. “Major Cleven doesn’t dance and his sweetheart is coming next weekend so you don’t have to worry about him talking you up. I’m gonna go dance with James.” She pointed at a random soldier and then disappeared again.

The major sat, seemingly weirdly unaffected by your friend’s wild antics, and held a hand out to introduce himself, a gesture you returned.

“I’m sorry about Dotty. She insisted on going out to celebrate a promotion I received at work but it seems she’s already forgotten all about it.” You resigned yourself to sitting at the table until she got bored and found a fella she could sweet talk into dropping you home on their way to her place.

“Congratulations.” Major Cleven said. “And don’t worry about your friend. Nothing I can’t handle.”

The two of you talked for a while and you found yourself enjoying his company. He talked about his girl, Marge, with so much love and if there was one thing that you loved more than anything it was Love. Romance. Devotion.

When you recommended a few spots on base and off base that Major Cleven could take her while she came down to visit, he listened intently. In return he shared some of his group’s adventures from training. It was in the middle of a story about another soldier losing his boots through a bet when a loud voice interrupted him.

“Buck! I thought I’d lost you.” A pair of hands came down on either side of the major’s shoulders, giving him a shake. When your eyes followed them up you saw a dark haired man, a very handsome dark haired man, standing close behind the major. Looking down at you. “Who’s your friend?”

At your confused look Major Cleven just smiled. “He’s my Dotty.” He said, quietly, before speaking louder to introduce you. By the time he was done the dark haired man had rounded the table and sat next to his friend.

“John Egan, but my friends call me Bucky.”

There was a sparkle in his eyes you couldn’t look away from. It was almost distracting enough that you forwent protocol and referred to him by his offered nickname but your brain kicked in at the last minute, recognizing his name. “Major Egan.” You stated, watching his smile fall into confusion. “It’s good to put a face to the name. Colonel Smith talks about you plenty, sir.” You explained.

That charming smile returned as he leaned back in his chair. “You one of his girls then? What’s Smitty saying ‘bout me?”

“Head girl, sir. Just promoted. So forgive me for not breaking confidentiality.”

He, Major Egan, laughed loudly at your response, a wonderful sound. Beautiful view too, with his head thrown back in glee, exposing the long line of his neck. “Might be for the best. That way I can pretend he likes me.”

It was your turn to laugh, well aware of his reputation among your higher ups. While you weren’t looking at the major directly it didn’t escape your attention that he was watching you.

Even though you rarely gave into your friend's demands to go out, you knew what it was like to have soldiers watch you. The whole thing wasn’t something you enjoyed. Yet somehow Major Egan managed to do so in a way you didn’t mind. You didn’t mind it at all.

It was easy to let his eyes linger even if you knew that you shouldn’t mingle with the brass. It wouldn’t be proper at all, especially with your new position. And the man before you had a reputation on top of that. But all that seemed so unimportant as he stood up and held out his hand.

“Do you dance, doll?” His tone was playful and you felt your cheeks heat again at the nickname.

“I shouldn’t, Major Egan.”

Luckily he seemed to catch on to your word choice, straightening up. “So formal.” He teased. “If you’re denying me the pleasure of a dance I’ll pay a quick visit to the barkeep. Any request? I’ll buy…. for your promotion.”

“Oh I don’t—” You stopped yourself, “well one drink won’t hurt. I don’t know what they have available though. Surprise me, Major? Just nothing too strong.”

He flitted off with a wink and it was only then that you remembered Major Cleven, who had sat between the two of you silently for the entire exchange and was now looking at you with a knowing look in his eyes. Your own gaze dropped to your lap, embarrassed that the Major had seen your little flirtation.

“He’s a good man.” The blond major’s voice made your head snap back up. “Listens when you tell him no and he keeps his mouth shut if you tell him yes. Bucky’s intense but there is not a single soul I trust as much as him.”

He said it as if he already knew what you were thinking about. Weren’t thinking about. Shouldn’t think about.

“You’re a good friend Major Cleven but I don’t know what you’re trying to suggest. Major Egan simply offered to buy me a drink to celebrate. What other intentions he may have are completely irrelevant at this moment.”

He gave you a fond smile, like he already knew you didn't mean a word you said, but he didn’t call you on it which you were grateful for.

When the handsome Major returned it was with flourish, balancing three drinks in his large hands while he danced along to the music, making his way back to your table until he let himself fall into the seat next to you, not his friend. He wordlessly put a bottle on the table in front of Major Cleven before handing you a flute filled with a light bubbly drink.

You picked it up gently, careful not to spill the liquid inside. There was no ignoring the heavy presence of the major’s arm slung over the back of your chair but you didn’t allow yourself to lean back against it. Yet.

“To promotions.” He raised his glass —dark amber coming precariously close to the rim as he did— clinking it against yours before raising it towards Major Cleven who returned the gesture.

“To promotions.” You agreed. The drink he had gotten you tasted nice, a little sour in a good way, certainly better than the alcohol you had tried before. But most importantly it gave you the excuse you wanted.

You watched as Major Egan’s glass got emptier and emptier, the men joking around while you bid your time until there was nothing more that anchored you to the table.

Major Egan sat his empty glass down soundlessly and stood up, turning towards you and once again offering his hand, “Fancy a twirl now, doll?”

This time you accepted, letting him lead you to an open spot on the dance floor. His hand felt rough against yours but he held it gently, carefully, as he led and you followed. The band faded into the background as the Major guided you along the dancefloor. You could feel his other hand —large and warm— through the fabric of your dress where it rested respectfully on your waist, not an inch too high or too low. Steadying you.

You weren’t the most experienced dancer but it was clear to you that Major Egan knew how to move.

“Not all that proper now, are we?” He joked after you stepped closer to him, the side of his mouth quirked up into a mischievous grin as he looked down into your eyes.

“It is entirely improper Major, but I did have that one drink before you talked me into dancing with you so I think I’ll be forgiven should anybody question things.”

His eyes crinkled as he laughed, loud but not loud enough to draw even more attention to the two of you. “I talked you into dancing?”

The tone in his voice had you biting your lip as you nodded up at him.

“Alright, alright. Could I talk you into calling me Bucky then as well?”

“I don’t know Major Egan.” He spun you to the music, interrupting your response, before he pulled you close again. Closer than before. “I thought only your friends called you Bucky?”

“We’re friends, aren’t we?”

The music changed but you barely acknowledged it, too lost in the feeling of his breath on your skin. Nothing more than a whisper. “You want to be friends, Major Egan?”

He gave you a wide smile but didn’t answer your question. The only indication that he had heard you was a subtle shift of his hand. You didn’t comment on it though, only letting yourself be led around the floor as the band continued to play.

“How are you getting home?” He finally broke the silence during a slower song. The evening was far from over but it seemed like the major had finally gotten impatient.

You drew back a bit to look around, finding Dot not on the dancefloor but at a different table, perched on a soldier’s lap. “A friend gave me a ride but she seems rather occupied at the moment.”

It didn’t bother you too badly, part of you had even expected it. You would just walk to the nearest pay phone and call your father to come pick you up.

“A friend would make sure you got home safely, would they not?”

“What are you saying, Major?”

He looked over your shoulder for a moment, seemingly looking for somebody, before looking back down into your eyes. “I can get a car for us in ten minutes?”

There were many things you should have considered before agreeing. Optics for one. There weren’t many ways one could interpret you rushing off with a soldier. The consequences come Monday morning if your superiors found out. Even just the major’s intentions if you really were to go with him. But truth be told you had little care for those things at the moment.

When the two of you had parted ways it was in different directions, the charming major off into the masses to talk somebody, anybody, into handing over their keys, you towards the exit.

The sun must have just set, heat from the day still heavy in the air as you stepped outside. It felt easier than you’d thought —admitting to yourself that more time had passed than you suspected, hours flying by while you were wrapped in the arms of a man that had been a stranger at the beginning of the evening. Leaning back against the wall at the side of the building you didn’t have to wait long before the doors opened again and Major Egan walked outside with determined strides.

He stopped, looked around before spotting you, and walked closer. Closer.

Major Egan moved to cup your face, not slow but not fast either, giving you enough time to turn away or speak up. You didn’t. You wouldn’t. But even though your eagerness seemed so obvious to you it mustn't to him because he took his time leaning in, giving you an out until the last second.

When your lips finally connected it was gentle, barely more than a whisper before you got sick of waiting and pushed forward, rising on your tiptoes just enough to kiss him back. Properly.

It took him a second to respond and for a moment, brief and utterly terrifying, you thought you might've come on too strong. This, everything from the flirting to the kissing, had been a new experience and oh how silly of you to believe you've done well on the first try.

But then Major Egan? Bucky? John! kissed you back, pressing his lips against yours hard enough to bruise, turning your insides hot and bubbly. Those long fingers that had been holding your face so sweetly just moments before stroked over your skin, finding your cheekbone, your jawline, teasing where your lips connected. You gasped and he took the chance to deepen the kiss, his tongue pleading for permission to enter, warm and wet against your upper lip.

You granted his request —How could you not?— letting him press you further into the wall behind you as he kissed you. One of his large hands shielded your head from the brick he crowded you against, the other splayed wide on your waist like it had on the dancefloor. It was only when you had to pull away to breathe that you realized you’d ended up in the same situation you had judged the young lovers for at the beginning of the evening. At least the settling dusk provided you with the resemblance of a cover. The heat in your cheeks only intensified when you looked at the man in front of you. The —admittedly gorgeous— lipstick your friend had convinced you to wear now graced the Major’s face, going beyond the confines of his own lips and even tinting the hairs of his mustache. A sound —half embarrassed squeal, half laughter— left your lips before you could stop yourself.

Major Egan, John, smiled at you, oblivious of his own state. “You got a little something.” His thumb brushed under your bottom lip, undoubtedly cleaning whatever was left of your makeup. It was a sweet gesture you couldn’t repay since it would take more than the swipe of a finger to fix him up properly.

“You too.” Was all you could stutter out, rummaging in your purse for your compact and your handkerchief. It was sad to see the white embroidered cloth fall victim to red pigment but at least the major looked presentable, if a little flushed.

“Ready to go?” He held out his arm, chivalrous, as if you hadn't been devouring each other moments earlier.

You allowed yourself to be escorted towards his borrowed car, hand resting in the crook of his elbow as he led the way.

It was only when he opened the passenger door for you that you paused. You had been acting very unrestricted the entire evening but doubt had started to set in. You were a modern woman, or at least you wanted to be. But while you admired women like Dotty that owned their life to the fullest you weren’t all that ready.

“Major Egan?”

“So formal. I thought we were past that.” He said in a teasing tone but when he saw your face his expression changed and he listened seriously.

“I know I’ve been behaving awfully bold tonight sir, but I just wanted to make sure that there are no… expectations about the rest of the evening.”

He nodded, a soft smile on his face, before he spoke, tone so gentle you trusted him without hesitation. “Get in the car, doll.”

Major Egan closed the door behind you carefully before rounding the car and sitting in the driver's seat. He didn’t start the car though, instead he turned to look at you.

“I’m not going to lie and say I wouldn’t like to kiss you again, doll. Because I do. I really do. But I don’t want to do anything you’re not comfortable with. We can take the long way or I can drive you straight home. Whatever you want, just say the word.” He turned to sit properly and started the motor. It was only when the car had already started rolling that he said more. “No matter what you choose, if you permit it I’d like to make sure you get home safely.”

You looked at him, really looked at him, as you followed the road through the base. Even with the fading light he looked gorgeous. A strong side profile you wanted to spend more time looking at. The way his fingers drummed against the steering wheel.

It didn’t take all that long to make a decision but you still waited until the car pulled through the gates and off base before you answered him.

“Take the long way, John.”

#masters of the air imagine #mota imagine #john egan x reader #john egan imagine #masters of the air x reader #mota x reader #john 'bucky' egan #masters of the air #mota #callum turner imagine

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lovelyyandereaddictionpoint · 2 years ago

Note

Hey, what is the reaction of some Class A students (especially Bakugo and Deku) to the fact that s/o got into the hero course and scored about the same points as Bakugo. (at the same time, she doesn't have any quirks). She was humiliated all her life, so she decided to prove to everyone that she could become a worthy hero and help people.

(I will be glad if you answer, but you can ignore it.. I just had these thoughts for a very long time)

Strong Quirkless Reader | Yandere Boku No Hero Academia

Ft. Katsuki Bakugo, Izuku Midoriya, Ejiro Kirishima, Shoto Todoroki

Katsuki Bakugo

“You’ve got to be kidding me!”

He takes a similar approach to what he does with Midoriya and totally puts you down

Not nearly as harsh but he believes this will keep you safe

Instead he’s gearing you to join UA in a support course

��You’ll obviously want to be the secretary of the number 1 hero! So you better become worthy by the time I get there!”

That all gets thrown out the window when Aizawa congratulates you on your high score as their first exams begin

Whether its your speedy swordsmanship or just insane strength

You are just built different

And bakugo is having an absolute crisis

‘How can he be a protector if you're too strong to yield to him!?’

He low-key is plotting to cripple you from this point further

“I’m not letting you get any farther! I’m doing this for you so just fall already!”

Izuku Midoriya

“Wow y-you really did it!…You really did it…”

He’s happy that your doing what you talked about since you were kids

Surpassing so many without a quirk

But now he has to figure out how to do this

“Icanalwayscripplethem.Butthenthey’dhatemeforever.eveniftheydidn’tknownowthey’dfindouteventuallymaybeifigotthempregnantbutthatssoembarrassingcouldweeverdothis?OrmaybeIcanjust–”

“Midoriya!”

“S-sorry!”

He’s not going to knock down all your progress…just yet

He knows how much you want this

But he wants to protect you just as much if not more

He’ll congratulate you

Train with you

All while planning the perfect future for you both

…without you being in danger

“Great job (Y/n)! I can’t wait to be a hero with you! I’ll watch you closely!”

Eijirou Kirishima

“Way to go (Y/n)! Let’s be heroes together!”

He’s your biggest cheerleader

He definitely wasn’t expecting you to do so well

But he doesn’t mind

“I’m your rock, (Y/n)!”

He supports you through and through

….in the beginning

As the year progresses and you face more life or death situations he’s less excited about you working in this field

He knows your not weak but he worries

He has a while before he’s strong enough to protect you

And he’s currently not strong enough to stop you

So for now he’ll settle to stand beside you

Until he can tuck you safe and out of sight

“I believe you’re going to be a great hero alongside Red Riot!”

Shoto Todoroki

“Y-you must have some quirk right? Right?! You wouldn’t keep that away from me for all this time, right?!”

Guessing that you two were well acquainted with one another before the first test

He expected to begin his journey in UA alone

Brooding all the while

Not only does he hate his father and his connection into oblivion

But he had to spend the time he typically had with you to train even harder to be a hero

It was the pinnacle of despair

But now this turns into an anger that has to do with his growing obsession with you

‘How can he claim to love you if he doesn’t even know you can do this!!!’

Oh he’s not mad at you

not at all

But don’t stare too hard when he overdoes it in the following mock battles

He needs to know everything if he really is in love, right?

“That is amazing…why didn’t you mention something sooner? I could have been of some help. I thought I was worthy enough to know that side of you”

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usagikookiejams · 1 year ago

Text

WISH

Ran Haitani x fem!reader

⚠️ Warning: angst no comfort, violence, curse words, not proofread (sorry, too tired). That's all as I don't want to spoil the story lolll

Today was a very peaceful Saturday. You wish to spend the entire day with Ran; considering you got a good news to tell him. You tried to sleep in a little longer, your hand fishing for Ran that always sleep beside you. But to your dismay, he was not there. You woke up and searching for Ran through out the entire house until you heard a click from the front door; and Ran coming in. You went to hug his arm, swinging your body left and right in the process, "Hey handsomeee, I was thinking... how about we spend the day catching up with our favourite series and have dinner at night?."

You heard him sighed and forcefully retracted his arm; not even looking at you, "No thank you, I have a lot of work to do." You deflated, feeling quite hurt by his word but still, you insisted on spending time together. That is until, he glared at you while saying, "Can you just shut the fuck up?!! I got headache listening to you! Stop being so clingy! It's not like you are gonna die if I don't spend even an ounce of my time with you, is it?." Ouch... that was not expected from him. You masked your hurt by giving him a smile, "It's okay, I will leave you alone. I am sorry for disturbing you." Ran sighed and walked to your shared bedroom while saying 'thank you.' After you were sure that Ran was fast asleep, you went to retrieve your car keys and purse; deciding to spend time with yourself instead.

"I adore how you're constantly by my side. Please continue to do so, your presence is utterly endearing"

[Your POV]

That words kept on repeating in your head. You looked out of your car window to look at the entire city from the highest point of Roppongi. The word kept on haunting you, making you wonder if he was getting bored by your affection? You felt tears wetting your cheeks, you chuckled slightly at that, "How silly of me, thinking that he will always want me to shower him with affection. He is a busy guy too, so he must feel very tired and just want some time to himself," you monologued with yourself.

You went outside the car to get some fresh air. You looked at the city while stroking the ring decorating your delicate finger. Thinking how you're going to break the news to him without annoying him even further... Not realizing that a guy was approaching you from behind. You were suddenly forced into unconcious state and everything went blank.

[Ran's POV]

Back at home, Ran woke up from his sleep after what felt like hours. Looking at the clock, the time was currently at 2:00 p.m. Shoot.. he was supposed to be at the office since 12:00, why didn't you wake him up? He grumbled and called out your name plenty times but no answer. He remembered what he said to you in the morning, feeling guilty and now making a mental note to apologize to you as soon as possible. He stood from the bed and went to get ready for work...

At the office, he was informed by his secretary that the top executives are now gathered at the meeting room for what seems like an urgent discussion. He got there ASAP and apologized for his lateness, Mikey didn't get mad but just look at him pitifully.

"Do you got any calls from the enemy, Haitani?," Mikey looked at Ran making the latter guy dumbfounded. "Err.. whatchu mean, boss?," Ran couldn't help but looked towards his brother direction. "The Black Venom's man called our HQ around 11 a.m. saying that they got hostage with them..," Mikey announced. "So... what that got to do with me? Why shall I expect calls from them?," Ran still didn't understand the situation. "Are u fucking stupid Ran?! Boss meant to say that the enemy got your wife, Y/N!," Sanzu said while shaking his head.

Sanzu's word ringing in his ears making him rushing to retrieve his phone from his pocket. He tried calling you multiple times but it wasn't answered. He was getting impatient and decided to settle things on his own, until Mikey stopped him, "Sit down Haitani.. Keep your composure, I know the news is shocking but we have to discuss this matter first, how we're going to invade them. Considering they just destroy our plan of raiding their base this night." Ran couldn't disobey his order thus, sat down to discuss carefully regarding the plan.

You woke up from your unconciousness, feeling tightness around your limbs. Thus, quick to realize that you were bound to a chair. You looked in front of you to find any clue on where you are but didn't find any.

You suddenly felt something hard hit your head making you scream in pain. You looked upwards and saw a guy with baseball bat smiling sinisterly at you. You couldn't help but scream loudly to get any source of help. The guy once again hit you, this time around your chest to stop you from screaming. You fell backward making the chair also fell down with you. You tried asking for his sympathy but he didn't listen to you. He grabbed his phone from his backpocket and dialed a number.

After the third rings, someone on the other side of the call answered, "Hello, who is this?." The guy directed his phone towards you and changing the mode to video call, making you hear scream from the person in the other line. "What the fuck are you doing with my wife?!." Oh, that was actually your husband, Ran...

"I didn't do anything but maybe swing my baseball bat lightly to keep her shut her big-fat-mouth up hahaha," the guy looked at you making you felt like vomitting. "I swear when I got you, I will kill you as slowly as possible, as a payback for your action!," you heard Ran warning the guy, in which you couldn't help but smile a little. This action of yours made the enemy mad and started hitting you again and again, until you're coughing a lot of blood. "Is this how you're going to torture me? Dream on, you won't even able to reach me as we're currently at a very remote location," the guy zoomed in on your face making it very obvious that you're in a very critical state, your face is all beaten up.

Ran was about to warn him again but the enemy has ended the call. Ran couldn't control his emotion and started to punch the wall behind him until his fist was bleeding, "Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! I shouldn't have say that to her. If that is the case, she will still be safe at home," he started to cry. Rindou went to calm him down and said that the plan will take action as soon as possible once the ammo are stocked up in the cars boot. "I felt guilty that I yelled at her this morning, she sounded so excited too, telling me to spend time with her. I am such as stupid husband for not listening to her request. After what felt like days, I finally have time to be at home," Ran confessed his guilt. Rindou was about to comment on it, but was interrupted by one of the subordinates telling the executives that everything is ready. Everyone stood up and got ready to beat up that fucker and his gang.

You were pulled up by the enemy guy quickly. The guy cut the rope, and screamed at you to move as quickly as possible to the rooftop. You didn't want to anger him so you follow his order.

Reaching to the rooftop enable you to see numerous vehicles parked at the front entrance. Noticing one of them is what seems like Ran's car. You felt like fate is by your side so you couldn't help but scream that you're in the rooftop. The enemy guy that was by your side felt really angry that you gave away his whereabouts; leading to him landing a punch directed to your chest. You felt dizzy now that you has loss too many blood. You heard footsteps getting nearer and the enemy was looking much more uneasy. The rooftop door was barged open, revealing non other than your husband, Ran. You smiled weakly at him, but the smile was suddenly wiped off your face when you felt bullet hitting your chest. The enemy laughed at the Bonten members, saying how they were too late. Ran shot the guy in the head and ran to hug you, but all you could feel now is numbness throughout your body.

Your mouth kept on spilling blood, making your husband panic at the sight, "Fuck it! Come over here medic! What are you doing there?! We have to be quick, she's losing a lot of blood already!." Ran screamed at the medic team who were now rushing towards you.

"Hey baby... please stay awake yeah?," he stroked your cheek lovingly while tears were pooling in his eyes. "We will go home and spend time together as you wish this morning, yeah?," he felt himself chocking up on his words. You looked at him, hands trying to engulf his face close to you though your limbs felt as if they were screaming at you. "Ran...," you smiled at him. Ran held your hands and kissing each of them. "Do you remember, our promise back in highschool?," you try to refocus your sight to him as it slowly becomes unclear. "Yeah baby...I remember how we promised to love each other dearly, ensuring it won't fade though we already have kids together in the future..," he couldn't help but felt the tears rapidly streaming down his cheeks. "So tell me, Ran. Do you still love me?," you stopped to take a shallow breath. "Of course I do! I love you so much that words couldn't even described it!," he held your hands tighter. "But, why it seems like your love for me is fading? You don't look as excited like you always do when you looked at me this morning," you felt your heart twisted at the reminder of what he said to you this morning. "Baby, I don't get it. What do you mean?," he tried to make a connection from your words. "I am pregnant Ran, it has been 3 months. I tried to tell you this, but you dismissed me. It hurts Ran, it hurts when you said I am clingy. It seems like you don't get excited for us," you started seeing white lights from above, making you felt quite nervous leaving him behind. You heard him saying 'I'm sorry' for many times until it sounded too far away from you.

Ran cried and cried, mouthing 'I'm sorry' non-stop. That is...until the medic called him and shook their head no. Ran felt like his world was crumbling apart. Not only did he lost you, he also lost the baby made out of love by the both of you. He felt like fainting, screaming to you to come back and saying he didn't mean the words he said this morning. Everything went blank as Rindou now rushed to Ran to embrace his unconcious body.

It was now the day after your tragic death, a funeral was conducted in honor of you. Many people came to show their respect to you. All Ran could do was stare blankly at each of them as they neared your coffin. From the corner of his eyes, he could see a woman walking towards him with something in hand. The woman he remembered as your bestfriend looked at him with teary-red-eyes while handing the box to him, "Open this at home, don't cause a scene here. I want the last farewell for my bestfriend to be as peaceful as possible," she said then walked away. Ran looked at the box, it looks very simple; how you would like it. Ran couldn't help but cried a bit remembering you.

[Ran's POV]

The box has been placed on the bedside table since he got back from your funeral. Honestly speaking, he was afraid to open them. He wondered why your bestfriend glared at him with nothing but hatred in her eyes; it shows how whatever inside this box, must be something that is very important to you.

Seconds passed by and finally he bravely opened them and could see a letter on top of a soft fabric. He read the content:

"I am glad to be able to spend my life with you. I wish nothing but the best for our love journey. In whatever situation, I hope our love remain strong as it has always been. What I am about to show you is something that is very important to me; it has some part of me and you. I have never seen them before but I already know that it is the best thing that ever happened in my life. Take a look at it by yourself, love <3"

After reading the letter, he pulled up whatever it is inside the box. Plop! He heard something dropped by his feet, he retrieved it and noticed it is a pregnancy test. He started to get emotional over this, now fully expecting the other items inside the box.

Tang! The box dropped. He frozed...he did not...

Yeah, he may expected the other items inside the box to be baby stuff...

But...

What he didn't expect is...

There are two sets of them...

2 pair of shoes...

2 clothes...

2 baby bottles...

And lastly...

2 ultrasound pictures; showing the twins resided in your womb.

Ran felt like he couldn't breath, he felt like dying. Not only he lost you, but he also lost his baby, two of them actually.

Ran sworn to himself that he will never forgive himself for ruining what the future holds for him. He wish that God could burn him in hell as long as possible to clean him off his sins, no matter how may years it takes. Just to enable him living his life with you and his 2 babies still alive by his side in another life.

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bambiiboop · 2 years ago

Text

Pre Game ( DBF / BFD Joel Miller x Reader )

Summary: Joel is your dad’s best friend, and your friend’s dad to boot. Wanting him is a bad idea, but it’s not like he feels the same… right?

CWs: age gap / references to cheating / semi protected sex / threats of spanking / language / dirty talk

Tag List: @joelsgirl @pr0ximamidnight @dreamingofdaddydin @funnygirlthatgab @schizoel @bearsbeetsbeskar @loquaciousferret @pedritosdarling @chaotic-mystery

(I’m sure I’ve missed someone I’m sorry 😂)

Notes: finally, that DBF fic.

Buy Me A Coffee?

You’re really starting to feel bad about how much you’re paying attention to him. Maybe it wouldn’t be so guilt inducing if it was a new thing, something you could brush off as fleeting interest, but the fact of the matter is you’ve had your eye on him for literally the better part of two years now.

You’ve always noticed him; how can you not? He’s your dad’s best friend. They work together, then every other week he’s at your house to watch the game. Before, you were aware of him.

But ever since you moved back home after your college relationship went bust? You can’t take your eyes off him. What’s worse is you’re relatively close friends with his own daughter, Sarah.

You’re a couple years older than her, but close enough in age that you get along well. Well enough that you’d hang out together, text each other over the years, trust each other with secrets and girls nights and the bullshit that comes with being a young woman in this day and age. Wanting her dad just feels like a betrayal, but you can’t help it.

Besides, it’s not like he wants you back. Right?

Your dad won’t be home for several hours yet; he got called out to an urgent maintenance job, something about a blown circuit board causing a whole block to have spotty power. Considering there’s some important game on today, it’s not ideal.

You guess he must be too busy to have had time to message Joel to let him know, or more likely, forgot. Not that it matters - there have been a couple times when he’s shown up early.

It’s almost embarrassing that you know the sound of Joel’s truck as it pulls up outside the house. Even more embarrassing the way your heart starts racing as you get up off the couch to let him in. You open the door just as he goes to knock on it, leaving him standing there with his hand half raised, lazy half smile on his face.

“Chief not in?” His nickname for your dad has always amused you, the sarcastic banter born from the year your dad was his boss. It was weird for them to go from equals, two blue collar single dads, to your dad bossing him round.

That worksite didn’t last too long, and they were back to their regular buddy shenanigans before long.

“Nah, some emergency power restoration. He should be back before the game starts.”

You step to the side to let him in; no point leaving him outside, or him driving across town to get home only to come back.

Joel smirks.

“Should’ve done what I did.” He pulls his phone from the pocket of his jeans, where the do not disturb sign is showing on his lock screen.

“He works too hard.” You agree, heading back through the living room, trusting Joel to close the front door behind him.

You’ve been alone with him before, just a few times, but not since you moved back home. He looks a little different. Older. He’s got silver streaks mingled in with dark curls, a little softer round the middle. But it doesn’t take away from his looks. If anything, it enhances them.

“Always has. Now what about you, huh? Last I heard you were finishing your fancy degree, had shit all planned out.”

You shrug. Your dad had never gone to college; had busted his ass your entire life so that you could. You’d enjoyed your studies, had had some good friendships and relationships there.

Then your college boyfriend with his stupid law degree had cheated on you with the secretary his new firm had hired. You hadn’t been remotely interested in trying to ‘fix things’, instead throwing your mostly unpacked shit into boxes and hauling ass back home.

You had your degrees, you could find work at home. Never mind your wounded pride and inability to trust men your age ever again.

“Sometimes stuff doesn’t go according to plan.” You say finally. “I’m getting a drink. Want anything?”

Joel doesn’t answer you, just follows you into the kitchen. You’re barely aware he’s there until you feel the heat of his body behind yours as he leans over you into the open refrigerator, snags a beer while you’re still deciding.

A jolt of electricity runs through your body at the slight contact, immediately followed by guilt. Never mind that he’s your dad’s best friend, he’s your own friend’s dad.

How could you ever face Sarah if you acted on your want for him?

You grab a premixed vodka drink, pop the cap off and toss it into the bowl on the bench, taking a sip.

The drinks aren’t your choice; your dad buys them on occasion, because as he likes to remind you, there’s no such thing as a ‘girly drink’. It’s funny, but being raised that way gave you the confidence not to give a shit about ordering a beer in a bar, the same way you’ll never be apologetic about drinking a pastel pink vodka premix that tastes like guava and sugar.

Turning, you find Joel leaning against the other bench. Watching you.

“Make yourself at home.”

It comes out far more sarcastic than you intended; immediately, you feel bad. It’s not his fault you’re trying to cope with a raging crush on him. Not his fault that he’s stupidly handsome even in jeans and a button down shirt.

Honestly you doubt he even knows how attractive he is. Somehow that makes it worse.

“Got a mouth on you today, don’t you?” Joel says almost breezily, clearly unbothered by your attitude. “You always this bratty, or is that something you learned at college?”

You can feel your cheeks heating at the implication.

“No college boy could teach me that.”

The words are out before you can stop them. Your slight blush becomes full fledged heat when you realise what you’ve said, how easily you flirt with him.

“Guess not.” Joel takes a long sip of his beer, watches you for a second, as though trying to assess something in his head.

“Guarantee no boy is gonna give you what you deserve, anyway.”

Even though you’ve just taken a drink, your mouth becomes impossibly dry.

“What I deserve?” You put the bottle down before you drop the damn thing.

Joel’s expression doesn’t change as he drains his beer, sets the empty bottle on the bench behind him.

“See, if you were mine, I’d put you over my knee and slap your ass raw for being such a brat.” He says it so damn casually, like he’s talking about the weather.

You open your mouth to speak, then close it again. Then open it.

“What’s stopping you?”

Now, his expression does change. A smirk crossing his features. You half expect him to say something about his age, about your dad being his buddy, or about you being his daughter’s friend.

It’s none of the above.

“You’d enjoy it too much.” He crosses the small space between you, thumb tracing the outline of your mouth. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed you looking.”

Your lips part, sucking the tip of his thumb into your mouth, eyes wide and staring into his own dark gaze. Something flickers there, maybe what remains of his willpower being snuffed out.

He lets you suck on his thumb for a moment before he pulls it out of your mouth, fingers closing on your chin and forcing you to look at him.

Your tongue darts out and licks your lower lip, unable to take your eyes off him, off the blatant lust in his gaze. You’re almost afraid that if you look away, it’ll break the spell, that he’ll come to his senses, or that you will.

You don’t want to.

“Eager little thing, aren’t you?” He sounds so amused, but not in an unkind way.

“I bet the thought of me bending you over and spanking you has you soaked.”

For a moment, you consider denying it. The small part of you that’s still sensible says you should. But you can’t. You just can’t.

“Why don’t you find out?” You suggest, wishing you were wearing something a bit more attractive than shorts and a shirt. At least your underwear matches.

For a moment you think he might refuse; are afraid he will refuse. That fear passes the moment his free hand slides down into your shorts, thumb brushing against your clit almost lazily.

You have to fight not to lean into his touch. Fight and fail miserably as that big, rough hand cups you, fingers caressing across sensitive skin.

“Knew it.”

Joel has no right to be this damn smug, and yet he is anyway, beyond amused at how wet you are, just from his words.

You half glare at him, mostly because you’re irritated by how right he is, but also because it frustrates you just how much you need him.

“Don’t start being a brat again…” he warns you. “Keep being good for me and I’ll reward you…”

You can’t help but melt just a little at those words, wondering what he could possibly mean. Well. You have a few ideas, but still, you think his ideas are probably going to be better.

“How?”

He just stares at you, makes eye contact as he slides two thick fingers inside you, silently answering your question and challenge.

Your knees almost buckle, but you force yourself to keep standing, reaching behind you to hold onto the bench top to steady yourself.

You’ve spent a considerable amount of time thinking about this; about his fingers inside you. About more than just his fingers. But hell if this isn’t a good start. If this is all you get, you’ll be satisfied. Needy and wishing for more, yes, but you wouldn’t push it.

Luckily for you, he’s just as needy, pushing those fingers deep into you, curling them, watching the way your eyes drop closed. Like he hasn’t thought about this a great deal, when in reality it’s all he thinks about.

“See? Told you if you were good for me, it’d pay off…”

You smirk at him, wanting to be a smartass and tell him he never said that, but you need him too much to risk it. He’s trained you well, without even trying.

“If I’m even better, will you give me more?”

Your eyes drop to the visible bulge in his jeans, leaving absolutely no room to question what you mean. The sound he makes is somewhere between a growl and a groan, understanding what you want and more than willing to give it to you.

“‘M not gonna fuck you in the kitchen, baby.”

The amount of restraint it takes for him to say that is clear in his expression. Honestly, he’d love nothing more than to yank those tiny shorts down, hoist you up onto the bench and fuck you senseless, but the kitchen isn’t the right place.

He has enough restraint to want to do this properly, enough respect for you to be hesitant, even though it’s difficult.

Quite frankly you wouldn’t have cared if he’d bent you over the closest surface, but it’s the little want to be a gentleman that gets you. Even if he does still have his fingers buried knuckle deep inside you.

“What about if I ask nicely?” You look at him through half closed eyes, expression innocent.

“Still not gonna happen in the kitchen.”

You smirk; that’s fair enough. Luckily there are far more available rooms you can utilise, and you both know it. Still, it’s with a definite sense of reluctance that he removes his fingers from you, brings them to his mouth and sucks them clean, leaving you once again weak in the knees.

“Joel…”

He loves the way his name sounds in your mouth, knows it’ll sound even better when you’re screaming it.

“Cmon, baby, gonna show me somewhere we can go that’s a bit more private?”

You try not to look too eager as you grab his hand, drag him out of the kitchen down the hallway to the guest room that’s now yours. Your old room upstairs was boxed up years ago, and your dad has since turned it into a gaming room for his war game miniatures and old books.

Easier for you to take the guest room, make it your own space. That and it would have felt weird, taking Joel into your childhood room.

Kicking the door shut behind you, you turn, expecting… you’re not sure what, but Joel pushes you up against the door almost right away, leaning down to you, his body hot against yours.

You have plenty of time before you have to worry about being interrupted, but still, there’s a sense of urgency in the way you pull him down to you, crush your mouth to his.

In the moment you don’t care that it’s wrong, that he’s so much older than you. All that matters is him, and getting him as close to you as possible, because god knows you’ve waited long enough for this.

He moves his arms away from you just long enough to yank your shorts down, pull your shirt over your head, toss them both aside carelessly. You let him before you push him back, until the back of his legs hit your bed.

Joel lets you, lets you push him back and straddle his lap, leaning down to kiss him as you shed your lace bra, leaving you bare to his gaze as you grind yourself against the significant bulge in his jeans.

“Fuck, baby, you gonna take charge all the time?”

It’s clear from his tone that he doesn’t care, not in the damn slightest, as your hands find his belt, work the zip of his jeans down.

You don’t answer him, just kiss him again, hard and desperate as your hand wraps around his cock, frees him from his pants and strokes him eagerly.

The sound he makes is goddamn sinful as you drag your soaked core along his length, coating him with your wetness. You want to take your time, but you know your dad could be back any minute, and you’re too needy and desperate to take your time.

Luckily, he seems to feel the same way.

“You gonna ride this cock, baby? Gonna take it like a good girl?”

That’s absolutely your intention; you lift yourself up, position yourself over the tip of him, then slide down onto his length, every inch of him sinking into you slowly.

His hands settle on your hips, guiding you down, keeping you there for a moment, fingers tightening on your waist.

“Fuck, you feel so good…” he breathes it out slowly, watches you toss your hair over your shoulder, smirk down at him as you start to move, drawing another delicious groan from his lips.

You don’t answer, focus entirely on riding him, lifting yourself up and dropping back down, one hand rubbing at your clit as you move.

“Such a pretty girl, so fuckin’ good for me…”

You whimper, and maybe that’s what finally snaps him, because his hands tighten on your waist and he starts to move, no longer letting you do all the work, hips snapping up against yours, hard and fast, precisely how you’ve always imagined he would fuck you.

“Dirty little thing aren’t you? All this time you’ve been wanting me…” he almost growls it, breath hitched as he ruts up into you, pupils blown wide with lust as he watches you.

“Joel…”

You’re so close you can feel it, every nerve in your body alight as you tighten around him.

“Go on, sweetheart. Cum on my cock, I know you want to. Can feel this tight little pussy, so needy for me…”

It’s his filthy words, the feeling of him inside you, your hand on your clit, the combination of all of it, that sends you over, has you shaking on top of him, held up by his big strong hands as you find your release.

He can see the scar on your arm where your implant was put in, sees you looking and the way you bite your lip, and that’s enough for him, bucking up into you until he can’t hold out any longer, cursing and moaning as he fills you, you grinding down against him the entire damn time.

“Fuck…” he groans it as you lean down to kiss his cheek.

“Worth the wait.” You tease as you climb off of him with shaking legs, pick up your clothes and start re dressing yourself.

“Absolutely.” He zips up his jeans, sits up lazily, watches you pull those ridiculously tiny shorts back on.

You grin, feeling his eyes on you.

“Come on. Let’s go have another drink and pretend to be completely innocent before my dad gets back.”

Joel groans. You’re going to be the absolute death of him.

#my writing #pedro pascal #joel miller #the last of us #dbf!joel miller #dbf!joel #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller fic #pedro pascal character fic #pedro pascal characters

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cryingpariah · 2 months ago

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My One Piece Oc Jackie's opinions on people and organizations in OP

The Strawhats: she really likes them! Be able to visit them even if just for a moment make her work day infinitely better. She knows as a member of the press she has a duty to be unbiased buttt nobody actually follows that so it’s fine. Though she knows that the race to the top is anyone’s game, if she had a personal favourite that was no one’s business but hers.

The Heart Pirates: she can tell how much their captain distrusts her and she respects it in all honestly. He never turns her away anyhow so it’s never an issue and the crew has an infectious sense of humour and camaraderie. They crowd around her and ask for all the juicy gossip the Grandline and New World has to offer and she must say, they make a perfect audience.

The Kid Pirates: like Trafalgar Law, Eustass Captain Kid does not trust Jackie a bit but he also knows the weight of the power of information has so he plays nice. His new strategy lately trying to recruit her, he has found no current success on that front. His promises are many and varied: money (she had plenty of savings), protection (she was an excellent fighter thank you very much), incessant asks from their little winged pirate-to-be (tempting but Big News waits for no man, woman, or mink).

The Seven Warlords of the Sea: she thinks the the entire idea of the Warlord system is stupid and can be too easily taken advantage of by cruel and powerful pirates (and it was..twice). She also think the pirates who join are somewhat sellouts. Isn’t the whole appeal of being a pirate is playing by no one’s rules but your own? Choosing to join the Marines, even adjacently, feels like a cop out to her. The only exceptions in her eyes are Pirate Empress Boa Hancock and First Son of the Sea Jimbei since they so obviously joined to save their people.

(Her personal rankings go something like Jimbei, Boa, Mihawk, Crocodile, Gecko Moria, Donquixote Doflamingo.)

(Kuma remains unranked so far, something in her gut tells her there’s more than meets the eyes with the Tyrant.)

The Admirals: she understands for genuinely world ending threats they are a needed force but for anything below that feels like complete overkill. Whenever she’s at Marineford she usually gets dragged into doing some secretarial work for them which depending on who it is can range from an honestly pleasent interaction to her fantasizing about shoving his head through a electric meat grinder.

(Her ranking goes Fujitora, Kuzan, Kizaru, Akainu, and then Ryokugu.)

The Underworld: hates it and the overwhelming majority of people involved in it. To be fair there’s nothing to like about it anyway, it’s a swirling cesspool of the worst humanity has to offer (yes that includes her too). Other than her boss Stussy is the only one she can tolerate.

Big News Morgan: likes him because they’re so similar and hates him because they’re too similar. She’s grateful for him taking her in and she loves her job but she also knows he just kinda sucks?? As a person?? If she thinks about it too hard it makes her dizzy with indecision so she tries not to.

Red Haired Pirates: The weird drunk uncles of the sea, they loved snatching her hat away to ruffle her hair and asking her to join in on whatever merry pirate ditty they happened to be belting out, she declined and instead procured an instrument to jam along with. Shanks was easily one of the most convoluted individuals she’s ever met, she’s dying to know what makes him tick even though she knows he’ll never tell her. A girl can dream, can’t she?

Dark King Rayleigh + Former Empress Shakky: she’s in awe of them! She practically begs to hear his tales of his time as the right hand man to the King of the Pirates and her anecdotes as ruler of the Amazon Lily! Rayleigh usually acquiesces but occasionally he (and Shakky) like to tease her for her eagerness but she can’t help it!! They’re just so cool!!

Whitebeard Pirates: if she’s there, it’s always for a big order and a big order usually means either weapons restock or a party. The members of the Whitebeard pirates always seem worried about her, offering hot meals and checkups while she’s there and threatening to head up to the WE NEWS blimp whenever she complains about work. She doubles down, acts extremely cheery the next time she sets foot on the Moby Dick and it works…mostly. Edward Newgate, father to dozens of wayward souls can’t be tricked with a child’s lie.

Big Mom Pirates: she had the pleasure of meeting Charlotte Linlin shortly after being taken in so she got Mom mode for 2.5 years. The Charlottes have taken to her in all their years of business together and are delightful hosts when she visits. It probably helps that she shares a birthday with a Sweet Commander so they love to invite her to Whole Cake Island to celebrate together!

Beast Pirates: she actively has to be forced to go to Wano, the SMILE Fruits users give her the heebie jeebies! Not to mention once when discussing some newly produced and shipped North Blue scotch The King of Beasts had called for her and, while incredibly drunk, started rambling to her about his lack of willingness to live. It went on for a while before a Tobi Roppo member found them and escorted her out. Easily the longest 20 mins of her life…

Blackbeard Pirates: truly and wholly detests them, especially their captain. She keeps a calm and indifferent mask on when she has to interact with them but she refuses niceties. Teach is offended by this and loudly recalls memories of how sweet and accommodating she was back on the Moby Dick whenever she’s in earshot.

Cross Guild: the business model of placing bounties on Marines for even civilians to collect and then when said civilians are marked as criminals welcoming them into the group is ingenious! She’s surprised no one has thought of it before. The idea of Buggy being its head with Sir Crocodile and Dracule Mihawk acting as his wings is laughable. There’s not a snowball’s chance in hell that just happened! Now if she could only get 5 mins alone with the Genius Jester, she’s sure she can get the real story…

The Revolutionary Army: if she wasn’t very dedicated to her current job, she could definitely see herself as a member. Conflicts of interest to her lifestyle aside, she really wants them to succeed and is usually the one pushing for their stories to be the front page. If she ever spots some Revs on a mission she’ll, despite her curiosity, leave them to their work. And if a stray arrows happens to knock aside some marines and move some slaves away from a nearby explosion…well who’s to say it was her? Forgery is on the rise lately yknow? You can never be too sure…

#one piece #one piece oc #Jackie #Strawhats #heart pirates #kid pirates #seven warlords #one piece admirals #big news morgans #red haired pirates #dark king rayleigh #shakky #Whitebeard pirates #big mom pirates #beast pirates #blackbeard pirates #cross guild #revolutionary army

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ladykailitha · 2 years ago

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Can Anybody See Me? Part 13

*cackles in evil author*

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12

When Eddie and Steve showed up for school the next day, Steve was called down to the office to speak with Mrs Hall again.

“Mr Harrington,” she greeted coldly. “It has been brought to my attention that your parents aren’t home, is that correct?”

Shit, Steve thought. He was technically a minor and CPS could be called.

“My father had a business deal in Japan this week, my mother went with him,” he said slowly. He deliberately left out the part where from Japan they were going to South Korea and then India before coming back to the States in a month.

She nodded grimly. “Only parents and legal guardian can excuse any absences. Last time I checked Wayne Munson was not your legal guardian.”

Steve nodded. “I didn’t ask him to. I was feeling really sick, like unable to move sick. So I called Eddie to get my school work for me only to find that Eddie was sick, too. I didn’t even know he had called in until you told me,” he lied smoothly.

Mrs Hall sighed. “It��s clear that you will not head my warning to stay away from that boy. And as your parents are currently not reachable the principal has asked Mr Munson to stand in loco parentis any time your parents are away.”

Steve blinked. He knew that Principal Higgins hated Eddie for being out, loud, and proud about well...everything really. So for him to ask Eddie’s uncle to watch over Steve, either it was a front or Eddie got his silver tongue from Wayne.

Which all things considered, Steve would bet one hundred percent on the latter.

“That’s nice of Principal Higgins and Mr Munson, ma’am,” was all he said on the matter.

“You will just have to sign here, saying you agree,” Mrs Hall said, handing him a paper on a clipboard.

Steve carefully read it several times before signing it. He hadn’t it back to her and she looked at the signature.

“Mr Munson will also be put down as alternative emergency contact,” she said.

Steve nodded and briefly thought about how much it would take to bribe the school secretary to call Wayne first, before he discarded the thought. She would let it slip somehow and make things worse for everyone.

“Thank you, Mrs Hall,” he said demurely, looking up at her through his eyelashes.

Mrs Hall sighed. “I know you mean well, Mr Harrington and it must be hard when your parents are away all the time, but all this is stressing the school’s very limited resources, so please try not to make any more waves, yes?”

Steve nodded.

She dismissed him back to class and he went willingly. He walked back to Mr Vinke’s class feeling relieved for the first time in a long time.

Eddie looked up at him in askance and Steve gave him the thumbs up. Eddie relaxed and went back to doing his school work.

Mr Vinke smiled at Steve. “It’s good to see you looking a little less like death in my classroom, Mr Harrington. I hope this has taught you a lesson about staying home when you are sick, instead of trying to push through it.”

Steve nodded.

“Good,” he said and turned back to grading his papers.

At lunch, Steve told Corroded Coffin what Mrs Hall had told him.

“My uncle did what?” Eddie asked.

“Yeah,” Steve said. “Came as a shock to me, too. But this is good.”

Everyone nodded.

“So whacha doing after school tonight?” Gareth asked.

Steve blinked. “Homework, I guess. Why you guys got something going on?”

Eddie grinned. “Well, you see, big boy, the Corroded Coffin boys just got their first real gig at little dive bar called ‘The Hideout’.”

Steve’s eye went wide. “Holy shit, guys! That so fucking awesome. Of course I’ll be there.”

“It’s at eight and will run about an hour,” Jeff said.

“They’ll card you at the door,” Brian said. “But they’ll let you in if you’re underage. They’ll just put black marker on your hand so the bartenders and waitresses know not to serve you alcohol.”

Steve nodded excitedly. “I read you loud and clear. I’ll try to get there a little earlier so I don’t miss it.”

Eddie chewed on his lip. “You sure you’re not going to be missing play practice?”

He shook his head. “Today they’re running through the song ‘The Lees of Old Virginia’, so I’m not needed.”

All the boys relaxed.

“We wouldn’t want to get you in trouble with Miss Lucy,” Gareth said. “We know how important the play is to you.”

Steve grinned. “That’s sweet of you, but I wasn’t going lying when I said I didn’t have anything. If I had practice, I would have told you I had practice.”

“What about swim practice?” Eddie pressed.

“Not until tomorrow,” Steve said with a half shrug. “I talked it over with Coach Hall. I’m still swim captain and will still compete just not to the extent it was last year. So I’m co-captain with Ezra Wincott. They’ve all been really cool about the play and the concussion and everything.”

Eddie visibly sagged in relief. “Sorry about the third degree, man. But you did have a life before Hargrove smashed your face in, and all of it can’t have gone to the shitter.”

Steve smiled. “It’s okay. I wouldn’t lie to you. If I had practice, I just would have cut out early.” He winked at him.

Eddie blushed.

Steve was looking at his closet woefully. He really didn’t have anything that wouldn’t make him stand out in the crowd the Corroded Coffin boys would draw. He pulled out the black t-shirt he bought for Halloween and the dark grey jeans. He’d still stand out, but not as badly.

He wandered into his parents’ room and went picking through the necklaces. Steve finally found a small chain that didn’t have any pendent on it and put it on. He also looked at her rings, but he knew none of them would really fit. He sighed.

This was just going to have to do.

He grabbed his coat, wallet and keys and went out to his car. As he was driving he thought he saw his parents’ car drive past him, but that couldn’t be right. They weren’t due back for at least another week.

Steve let out a slow deep breath and decided, fuck it. If that was his parents then that was on them. He wasn’t going to wait for them to come home every night like some heroine from some trashy romance novel.

He was going to go out and have a good time with his friends.

Steve arrived at The Hideout about twenty minutes before they were supposed to go on. He had a fake ID he could have got in on, but he knew he was driving home and really shouldn’t drink. So he used his own and when he saw that Marty, Janice and Gethin were there all with little black crosses on their left hand, he knew he had made the right choice.

“Hey, guys!” Steve greeted as he bounded up to them.

Janice eyed him up and down. “Looking good, Steve-o. But here, this will prefect the look.” She took off her flannel shirt and wrapped it around his waist, tying it.

She stepped back and admired her handiwork. Gethin and Marty nodded their approval.

“I think the only thing that would make it even better,” Marty said, “was if you had one of your ears pierced.”

Steve shook his head. “I know they have to stay in for two weeks before you can remove them and if my parents came home during that time...”

“You’d be grounded for life?” Gethin suggested with a grimace.

Steve sneered. “Something like that.”

He got himself a coke and settled down to wait for the band to start.

Then the house lights went down and the stage lights went up to reveal the band. Steve wolf whistled and cheered.

Eddie’s head snapped up, immediately clocking the other boy in the crowd. He could see his other friends were there, too. But holy hell. Steve put some effort into blending in tonight and the things it did to the insides of Eddie’s rib cage...shit.

He closed his eyes. He wished Uncle Wayne could have seen him but the older man worked.

But Steve was here. And that made up for it. It wasn’t the same, but a different kind of good.

Eddie stepped up to the mic and said. “Hello, Hideout! I’m Eddie and we are Corroded Coffin!”

He stepped back and began to play. The crowd almost instantly began to bob their heads to the music. And then Eddie began to sing.

And Steve started screaming. Eddie was amazing.

The show ended and the four of them went out back to meet them.

Steve rushed up to Eddie. “Holy hell, man. You guys were awesome!”

Eddie grinned. “Looking good, Stevie!”

Steve did a little twirl. “You like what you see, Munson?”

Eddie groaned. “I think we’ve established that I like you in those jeans.”

Steve laughed as their friends watched this great interest.

Eddie yanked on the flannel shirt around Steve’s waist, pulling him almost flush against each other. Eddie removed the flannel and tossed it vaguely Janice’s direction. “I’ll drop off some of mine, if want to keep coming to these concerts, pretty boy.”

Steve chuckled. “Feeling a bit possessive there, sunshine?”

Eddie growled and moved to step back. He didn’t mean for it to come out like that. But before he could get too far, Steve was pulling him back.

“Joke’s on you,” Steve murmured. “I like it.”

The only thing that kept Eddie from kissing those deliciously pink lips was the fact that everyone was watching. “Later,” he promised.

Steve nodded.

Soon they were being swarmed by their impatient friends wanting to congratulate Eddie and the rest of Corroded Coffin. They celebrated with sodas and cheese fries.

Eddie followed Steve back to his house, because they really needed to talk about this fragile thing blossoming between them.

Only when they got back to the house, that shiny silver beemer was out front again and Steve’s stomach dropped to his feet.

Eddie was out of the van in a heartbeat and by Steve’s side. “What do you want me to do?”

Steve’s breaths were coming out fast and shallow so he just shook his head.

“Do you want me to stay?” Eddie asked, gripping his arms and looking up into his eyes.

Steve nodded.

“Tell you what,” Eddie said gently. “If everything is all right and you don’t need me, turn your light on in your bedroom. If I don’t see it come on in ten...” Steve shook his head. “In fifteen minutes, I’ll come running, okay?” Steve nodded again.

Eddie gave him a kiss on the forehead. “I’ll be here.”

Steve took a deep shuddering breath and walked toward the door. He turned back and looked at Eddie, who nodded.

Steve opened the door and walked inside.

Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21

Tag List: @shrimply-a-menace @strangersteddierthings @throwbackthrowaway @novelnovella @cursedfoxteeth @babyblender @lifeisnotsobadonceyoustopcaring @swimmingbirdrunningrock @steve-the-hairrington @winterbuckwild @spectrum-spectre @matchingbatbites @garden-of-gay @anaibis @thing-a-ling @fandemonium-takes-its-toll @artiststarme @sundead @nelotegreitic @gregre369 @butterflysandpeppermint @thedragonsaunt @kodaik97 @messrs-weasley @scarletzgo @deadlydodos @renaissan-vvitch @evix-syne666 @emly03 @justforthedead89 @ashwinmeird @huniibee @phantypurple @stevesbipanic @shucks-yuckyuck @awkwardgravity1 @bookbinderbitch @reportinglivefromsoda @chasinggeese @be-the-spark-bitch @jinxjinn @kohlraedirectioner @cr0w-culture @xjessicafaithx @whimsicalwitchm @jaywhohasthegay @dangdirtydemons @lovelyscot @howincrediblysapphicofyou @the-redthread estrellami-1

#My writing #stranger things #steddie #canon divergence #the boy with the bat #ladykailtiha writes

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