#it's loving C hours gang !

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

OKAY HEAR ME OUT HEAR ME OUT.

Grandma cat!reader. Who was a old women who got experimented on and turned into a smiling critter but like the caretaker of the smiling critters.

Often seen walking around with a scruffed smiling critter hanging from her mouth(somehow-) and overfeeding the smiling critters or children.

How would a saved dogday and (maybe) good catnap react to the player bringing them to readers containment room. (She was locked in before the Hour of Joy due to something and just stayed there)?

I just want to see them get some sort of parental love 🥹😖

- Marshmellow🤍

I swear ya'll are gonna make me cry with these requests /nm <3

.....

Dogday

In your old age, you didn't wanna retire from Playtime Co. and spend the remainder of your life laying around, waiting for your body and mind to deteriorate.

So instead you became one of the few willing volunteers for the Bigger Bodies Initiative, being turned into a Smiling Critter (which made you especially happy since your grandkids adored the toyline and cartoon show).

In the show, the gang mentioned a grandma character several times (albeit she was unseen) and with Catnap being recalled from all promo materials, Playtime Co. took creative liberties and made you the newest feline replacement, fitted with a cinnamon scent and pie necklace.

Your tagline was something like "The Smiling Critters take care of our orphans, but who takes care of them? Why, their Grandma [Y/n], of course! She's full of love and wisdom!"

True to that, you became the caretaker of the Critters and children, ensuring everyone's fed well and staying out of trouble.

The incident with Bron (Thomas/Experiment 1199) had scientists rethinking how they'd introduce willing experiments to those...well..less-than-willing.

So you had a supervised introduction to the SCs (with children also present to discourage them from reacting violently). You were even given a containment cell you could retreat to in case of emergencies.

Luckily, you never had to use that room--as they accepted you and began calling you "grandma" since day one.

Dogday, especially, got attached to you.

You called him "DD" and "Doggy-Dearie".

Being a bit taller than the rest of them allows you to pick them up by the scuff of their necks if they're being too rowdy (Kickin and Hoppy, especially).

Even so, you're very sweet to all of them, letting them snuggle up to you as you shared stories and made them food so they could keep up with the little ones.

All was well in the Playhouse up until the Hour of Joy of course.

But you were unaware of it since Catnap sabotaged your room's lock, keeping you trapped to lower the Smiling Critters' morale.

Dogday was 100% convinced you were dead.

However you survived long enough for the Employee's arrival years later, never knowing what happened to the factory..

After rescuing Dogday, they find your door and powered it up, allowing the two entry into the perfectly intact space within.

Your fur was matted and you looked sickly, but you still jump up upon seeing the state your dear "grandson" was in.

It devastated you.

"My word..Dog-Dearie.." Your heart shatters. "Your legs..where are they? Where is everyone?"

Something inside of him ultimately breaks as he realizes you were alive...and you were here all along.

"G-Grandma...! Oh...god..I-I thought you were--" He crawls away from the Employee and towards you, sobbing into your lap. "You were h-here..this whole time! I-I wanted to see you, but..C-Catnap..he.."

"Shh, shhh..I'm here now, my sweet pup. It's alright." You hush, stroking his ears and resting a paw on his back, before looking to the Employee. "You must be terribly confused..as am I.."

After explaining your role--and calming Dogday down--the two tell you about what's happened to the factory, and at first you can't believe it...

Until you all wander through the Playhouse and see the horrid state it's in, but they're confused as to why none of the mini Critters attack you.

Only then do you mention feeding them over the years through little vents and holes in the walls, keeping their hunger moderately satiated.

Dogday feels awful, and even more upset at Catnap for lying about your fate.

But still, you don't show any ill-will towards any of the Smiling Critters, even if one of them had betrayed you all.

Instead you just let Dogday cling to you as you escape together and try your best to keep up.

Catnap

Like the rest of the Smiling Critters, Catnap considered you family and often went to you for snacks and such.

Or if he needs a break from trying to put all the rowdy orphans to bed in Home Sweet Home. Only then is he given permission to see you.

He always liked curling up in your lap, purring while you stroke his fur and tell him a story (which is sometimes an event from your old human life, albeit you do accidentally confuse yourself since ofc you're not supposed to remember any details of your old life).

The Prototype sees this as a problem, as Theodore Catnap was getting a bit too comfortable with his life here and needed a reminder of his mission....and so he tells him the truth.

About how you not only worked at the factory until you reached retirement age...but you were also a willing participant in the experiments.

And suddenly, he couldn't look at you the same way anymore. Only with resentment.

It wasn't fair.

You got to lead a long and fulfilling life. Theodore barely got the chance to grow up and be a normal kid.

You had the procedure and associated risks explained to you clear as day. Theodore never had the luxury of being warned ahead of time before he was grabbed and put under the knife after recovering from the incident with the green grabpack hand.

All he wanted was to free the others, but he ended up becoming their warden instead.

He almost forgot all of that because of you.

He refuses your food now, and you worry for him when you see how skinny he becomes as the months pass.

But he's very cryptic in the way he talks to you, the other SCs, and the staff...so you didn't know for sure what you did to upset him so much.

"Catnap, dearie..you're skin and bones. Let me-"

"I know what you were, and what you've become...the Prototype told me so."

You don't know what to say. What could you say when he kept talking about this "Prototype" person?

Despite his hatred, the SCs were conditioned to love you regardless, and so before the Hour of Joy Catnap decided to sabotage the locks of your containment room.

That way, he wouldn't be tempted to kill you...and he'd spare you from the grief of what he ends up doing to the other SCs, including Dogday.

Years later, when the Employee finally knocks some sense into him after saving him from being sacrificed to the Prototype, he takes them to your room, believing you to be dead from starvation.

Instead, though, they break you out and he discovers you're very much alive.

And Catnap just breaks down, groveling and begging for your forgiveness.

You were the one who always tried to reach out and comfort him, giving him some relief from the misery of being trapped in this factory....and he pushed you away.

But you don't hate him for locking you up, realizing that he still cared about you after all this time. Even when the Prototype told him about your past.

He wanted to keep you safe.

That alone proves he had a heart, and you reassure him of that as he cuddles up to you for a little while.

Once he's calmer, you go with him, Dogday (assuming he was saved), and the Employee to meet with Poppy and Kissy--both of whom are relieved to see you alive

[lev1hei1chou]

JUJUTSU KAISEN MASTERLIST

A- Angst

F- Fluff

C- Comfort

Requests open

GOJO SATORU

Boyfriend!Gojo (F) - Oddly specific Bf!Gojo headcanons By Your Side (A, F) - What if Gojo didn't die and was revived Dentist Calls (F) - Gojo gets a cavity Kikufuku (F) - Kikufuku chef Gojo ft. his cooking partner Serendipity (F) - A tall, handsome stranger at a bookshop 9:01 (F) - Gojo gets a piercing with you Why him? (F) - Gojo's daughter wants to marry uncle Geto 7:36 (F) - Gojo proposes in his own style As I Was Saying (F) - Gojo is determined to interrupt your phonecall First Day (F) - Dad Gojo's sends his child to preschool Skincare Rituals (F) - Gojo and skincare Jealousy, Jealousy (F) - Gojo gets hit on at a date Marked By Love (F) - Gojo finds your tattoo A Blossoming Proposal (F) - Gojo has competition: a child. Gym Time (F) - Gojo works out with you Curses Unveil Confessions (F) - Confess after getting injured in a mission Sick Day (F) - Gojo is a total pain when he's sick First Steps (F) - Dad Gojo gets a surprise when he returns from a mission Flowers For You (F) - Gojo gets you flowers, just because Birthday Present (F) - Dad Gojo teaches your toddler some words Little Snitch (F) - Gojo's son is a snitch Caught (F) - Gojo and your child have been caught lying Mini Gojo (F) - You dress up your baby like a miniature of Gojo Monopoly (F) - Gojo and the gang play monopoly Boop Wars (F) - You boop Gojo and start the boop war Birds and bees? (F) - How are babies made? You hug! Old Man (F) - A child calls Gojo 'old man' Grammy (F) - Gojo thinks he deserves a grammy Impressioner (F) - Gojo tries to impress you (and fails) Kitchen Catastrophe (F) - Gojo isn't the best cook, but he tries Fashion Icon (F) - Gojo's baby has to be a fashion icon 7:25 (C) - You think Gojo deserves better Cravings (F) - Gojo rates your pregnancy cravings Run Away (F) - Gojo's daughter wants to run away from home 3:27 (F) - Gojo finds you sleeping in his uniform A Dad's Promise (F) - Gojo meets his baby for the first time Make or Break (A-F) - You get into an argument with Gojo Abstract Art (F) - Gojo tries painting and calls it "abstract art" Family Halloween (F) - Halloween featuring your little addition Sleeping Beauty (F) - You fall asleep on Gojo A New Addition (F) - Gojo and your child return from a walk with a puppy Tantrums (F) - How can Gojo say no to his precious miracle? Gojo to the Rescue (F) - Gojo picks up his tipsy girlfriend Photobooth Session (F) - Gojo goes into a photobooth with you Physics Class (F) - Gojo teaches physics to his child, and it doesn't go the way they want it to. Cafe Drama (F) - Gojo loves drama when he’s not the center of it Aunt Flo (F) - That time of the month Daddy's Little Stylist (F) - Gojo's daughter gives him a makeover

Bunny Boy (F) - Gojo loses a bet One Piece (F) - Gojo is jealous of your favourite fictional men Gummy Date (F) - Gojo and an impromptu gummy date Anesthesia Antics (F) - Gojo feels loopy thanks to the anaesthesia A What? (F) - You ask for a baby out of nowhere Silent Treatment Prank (F) - Gojo tries the silent treatment prank on you Hoodie Thief (F) - Gojo's hoodies have been disappearing mysteriously Tricks (F) - What Gojo does to make you talk to him again Late, but why? (F) - Gojo is late to a date. Why? Cuddles and Jealousy (F) - Gojo is jealous of your baby 10:07 (F) - Soft Gojo hours A Silent Drive (A,F) - You're upset at Gojo Gojo And Love Languages (F) Little Rival (F) - Your baby is Gojo's rival

NANAMI KENTO

Faded (A) - Breaking up with Nanami The Shibuya Incident (A) - Nanami's fate in Shibuya, pt 2 of Faded Warm Mornings (A) - He's not gone, right? pt 3 of Faded Second Chances (F) - Patch up with Nanami, alt ending of Faded Trip to Malaysia (F) - Nanami moves to Malaysia with you A Future with You (F) - Nanami builds a future, pt 2 of Trip to Malaysia Sakura Blossom (F) - Cafe date with Nanami Little Superhero (F) - Dad Nanami gets called to the preschool Zoo Day (F) - Nanami visits a zoo in Australia

FUSHIGURO TOJI

Guardian (F) - Toji saves someone, uncharacteristically

GETO SUGURU

Geto's Warning (F) - Geto's daughter wants to marry uncle Gojo

MULTIPLE CHARACTERS

Orange Peel Theory (F) - Gojo, Nanami Lipstick Kisses (F) - Gojo, Nanami Makeup Artists (F) - Gojo, Nanami, Toji My Husband (F) - Gojo, Nanami Your child wants a sibling (F) - Gojo, Nanami

[empress-simps]

for remus, maybe a fic where he has a crush on fem!slytherin reader, and maybe the rest of the gang disapproves (at least initially) because of the silly house rivalry between gryffindor and slytherin? hopefully they’ll warm up to her because she’s actually really sweet and likes remus back, and they see how good for him she is :)

Hi darlingg! Thank you for this request, this is so adorable, and it was so fun to write :) I somehow made it a bit angsty...sorry about that I got carried away. Hope you enjoy! Pictures are from pinterest, credits to the owner!

Beyond The Surface

Pairing: Remus Lupin x Fem! Slytherin! Reader CW: Sirius being dramatic, Remus getting angry, and Language

He never really planned to fall in love. Remus thinks it would be better if he just lives his life in solitude; away from the confusing and complicated world of romantic relationships.

He doesn’t think anyone should bear the responsibility of having a werewolf boyfriend. Remus wouldn’t be able to forgive himself if he even touched a single hair on your body during that time, he desperately tries to convince himself that his friends and their future children will be enough to warm his heart who secretly yearns to have his own family.

‘It’s for the best, they wouldn’t suffer because of me.’ Remus thought, being the selfless person he was. Although, his plans that he so desperately tried to put up all came crumbling down when you came into the picture.

He didn’t think of it much at first. Remus thought it was just a simple crush that would go away in about three days or so. He was completely wrong.

“Remus Lupin, right? I’m Y/n Rosier, we’re assigned partners in potions.”

You sat beside him, beaming a smile that Remus was certain you were a gift for him from the Gods above. Merlin- you were simply breath taking. That was the first time he felt butterflies on his stomach, feeling his cheeks heat up as you offered a handshake.

“N-nice to meet you, Rosier.” He took your soft hands into his rough, and scarred ones. Shaking it as he desperately tries to ignore the sparks that seemed to go off inside him. Your face grimaced as your last name rolled off his tongue.

“Y/n is fine.” Remus nods, noticing your reaction. He was wondering how someone like you managed to survive other annoying Slytherins as your housemates.

“Alright then, Y/n. Call me Remus, yeah?”

That marks the beginning of an unlikely friendship of a Gryffindor half-blood with a Slytherin pure blood.

“Shall we begin?”

“Alright, but you lead. My skills are no good in potion making.” He jokes, making a small chuckle escape your throat. “I am quite aware.” She teases.

Being partnered with him for a Potions project meant that you would often meet up in the library, spending long hours sitting beside each other in silence, flipping page after page as Remus occasionally puts back books but returning with 5 more.

“Remmy, look here.” You pointed, not noticing how Remus blushed at his newfound nickname as he leaned to your seat, placing one arm on the back of your chair, his tall frame nearly engulfing you as he reads the contents of the page you found interesting.

He suddenly pales, his eyes transfixed on the title of the page. “Wolfsbane potion…” He whispers, eyes scanning the page quickly before looking at you. You hummed, flipping into another page to see how to make the said potion.

“Right, I figured we should make this for our project. What do you think? I think Polyjuice potion is a tad bit boring, hm?” She mused, seeking his opinion on the matter.

Remus parted his mouth to speak, yet the words seem to vanish at the back of his throat. You shot him a worried look, “Do you not like it? You could say so, don’t pretend nothing is wrong, Remmy.”

He blinks, trying to compose himself. “Ah, no-nothing’s wrong. It’s just that…”

You raised your eyebrows curiously, urging him to continue. “What? You know someone who’s a werewolf?” She jokes, trying to lighten the atmosphere as she lightly elbows him.

“I do.” He chokes out, the confession was unexpected, even to him. Remus doesn’t even know why on Earth he’s about to tell you one of his darkest and deepest secrets. It was probably because of your warm and inviting aura. It’s like you wouldn’t judge anyone based on first impressions, appearance, and what you’ve heard about them until you can see for yourself.

Remus felt like he could trust you, and his instincts are almost never wrong.

“Well, maybe the potion we’ll brew can help them?” You offered a smile.

“It certainly would be of help to me.”

You stilled; your hand that was about to get your quill hovered as you looked at him in shock.

“You’re a werewolf?” You whispered quietly; eyes that were surprised stared into his nervous, amber ones. Remus could only nod, an inkling doubt and regret slowly crept up to him. Did he make the right decision? Was he wrong this time? Would you hold it against him?

Your face turned serious, clasping his hand on the table with yours, you looked at him in the eye. “Your secret is safe with me; I would never tell it to anyone. If it helps, I will even make an unbreakable vow, Remus.”

He widened his eyes, “N-no! It’s alright, I trust you, Y/n.” You visibly relaxed, smiling lightly, squeezing his hand, a soft look was sent his way.

“Thank you for trusting me, Remus. If you’d like, I’ll brew you a supply of wolfsbane from time to time.”

If Remus wasn’t in love before that, he certainly is now.

“Out of all the people you could’ve chose to like it was a Rosier?!” Sirius screeched, a horrified look on his face as he grabbed Remus’s shoulder and looked at him straight in the eyes. The said boy frowned “What about it?”

Sirius blanched, “Are you daft, Moons?” He threw his hands up in the air, looking at the rest of the marauders and Lily, wanting them to side with him. Lily’s lips pressed into a thin line; she does not quite agree with Sirius but there’s still a possibility. It doesn’t help the fact that you are a Slytherin; the house that reeks of cunning pure-blooded wizards.

Peter looked anywhere to just not meet the eyes of Remus, clearly uncomfortable. While James frowned, a troubled look on his face as he clasped Lily’s hand. “The Rosier family… they’re not exactly known for their…,” he started, but Sirius cut him off.

“Rosiers are evil! Slytherins! Pureblood Supremacists! Death Eaters!”

Remus frowns, reading the room and the reactions of his friends. The message was clear without words: none of them supported Remus’s interest in a Slytherin, a Rosier no less.

“Give her a chance, she’s different.” Remus tried to make his friends listen to him. Sirius scoffed, rolling his eyes. James sighed, looking at Remus. “Moony, it’s just… We never thought you would fancy a Slytherin.” Remus pursed his lips, “Yeah, I never thought you and Lily would end up together but here we are.” James grimaced at his words.

“There’s tons of girls who fancy you, Moony.” Peter tells him. Remus frowned, feeling annoyance stir inside him. “They’re not her, Wormtail. All I’m saying is that Lily and you blokes should give her a chance before you make assumptions.” He spat, glaring at Sirius before leaving the room.

“Rem? Mon amour, what’s wrong?” She frowns, placing her book down as Remus entered the library, heading straight to her usual place but the window. Remus sighs, shaking his head. He couldn’t possibly tell you what happened, how Sirius thought you were just those pesky Slytherins they pull pranks on.

“They do not like me.” She stated, looking down with a frown as she fiddled with her thumbs.

“Honey, it’s not your fault.”

“I know, amour.”

Remus felt his lips press into a thin line, gently taking your hands in his, trying to stop your nervous habit. “They’re still wrapping their heads around it. They’ll come around, don’t worry about it love.” You sighed shakily, “I hope so.”

Remus traced shapes across the back of her hand, “Anything interesting happened today?”

“Evan and I got into a fight; said I was a blood traitor…” You trailed off, noticing how Remus’s jaw tightened and his stare hardened. “But it was alright, we made up. He just told me to be careful.” To say Remus was surprised was an understatement. “He couldn’t be angry at his twin sister for a long time.” She smiles.

“Black! What the fuck did you do?!” Remus roars, grabbing a fistful of the said boy’s shirt, pushing him against the wall as James tried to pull him off, “Come on, Moons-“

“Don’t bloody touch me, James!” He bellows, pushing off the Potter boy who stumbled away, shock evident in his features. Peter quickly got up from his bed, “Moony, why are you so angry? What did he do?” He drops shoves Sirius off as he stared at his friends.

“It was you guys who pulled a prank on her right? “Remus’s eyes brimmed with unshed tears, pointedly looking at Sirius. “Well congratulations, she’s being treated by Madame Pomfrey right now.”

Sirius felt shame and guilt ate him up. The prank was never supposed to go that far.

“Ever wondered why I was suddenly so calm during the full moon? It’s all thanks to her. She makes me batches of wolfsbane potion every month, without fail.”

James choked, “You told her?”

“I did”

“What if she tells everyone?” Peter frowns, concerned for Remus.

“If she wanted to, then the whole school would’ve already known, she even suggested an unbreakable vow.” Remus uttered out, sitting at his bed, looking away from them “Some kind of friends you guys are. I care about her, and if you hurt her, you hurt me too.”

Sirius cautiously approached him, “Moons, I’m sorry.” He began. James placed a hand on his shoulder, “I know, we’re knobheads. Sorry, Moony.” Peter nods, “We messed up, it won’t happen again.”

“Don’t apologize to me, apologize to her.”

“We will, Moony.”

An hour has passed after you got treated by Madame Pomfrey, you wanted to leave as you already felt alright but she insisted you stay for an hour or two just so she could monitor you. Having no choice but to oblige.

“Love?” Your ears perked up, the sound of Remus’ voice calling out to you. You turned and smiled at his direction, although suddenly dropping it as you saw the rest of the Marauders and Lily following him.

Trying to alleviate the awkward atmosphere, Sirius pulls out a bouquet of flowers. “Remus told us you like Tulips…” You were about to take it but stopped, James seemed to notice this. “It’s not jinxed, or anything like that.” You bit your lip, silently looking at Remus as if asking was it safe, he nods. “I was there when they picked it out love.” You finally took the bouquet, nodding gratefully. “Thank you.”

“We wanted to say we were sorry.” James started; Lily nodded. “It was quite shameful that we made such accusations and judged you before even getting to know you.”

“I’m sorry, Y/n. We…we were just looking out for Moony.” Sirius sighed; shame visible in his features.

“I understand, I probably would have done the same. I’d also look out for the people I care about.” You softly replied. “It’s okay, I forgive all of you.” You looked at them.

James stepped forward, “We hope you can give us a chance to make it up to you.” Sirius cleared his throat, “And maybe, if you’re up for it, join us for a butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks?” His attempt at a smile was hopeful.

Your lips curved into a genuine smile, your body slowly becoming relaxed. “I’d like that,”

[mytaiyakeylover]

i just want to cuddle.

synopsis: all your super clingy and adorable boyfriend wants is for you to give him some attention.

pairing: mikey x gn!reader

a/n: this is my first time writing something on tumblr. i’ve only recently begun to use this platform, but i hope you’ll like this little one-shot🥰

warnings: none, just plain fluff and mikey being his usual overly dramatic self.

word count: 1.1k

series masterlist | next

Manjiro sighed, a pout slowly forming on his lips. It had already been four hours. Four goddamn hours and you still haven’t as much as glanced in his direction. He just couldn’t help it. Did you not love him anymore? It sure as hell seemed to be that way considering the amount of time you were willing to spend doing math.

The boy groaned loudly, hoping to get your attention. He then closed his eyes and let out a deep sigh that conveyed his utter agony. Two minutes passed, then five, and finally six.

Manjiro peered at your silent figure through his lashes, his right eyebrow twitching in annoyance at the lack of attention he was receiving. How could you be so indifferent? After all, your boyfriend was lying sprawled on your bed in the same room where you were doing homework, and all you had to do was ask him if he was okay.

The blond puffed out his cheeks and crossed his arms over his chest, glaring at you. Another set of five minutes went by without any progress. You just continued to stare at that stupid, demon-like book, filled with evil spells and, perhaps, even guides on how to steal a gang leader's lover.

“(Y/n)-chan~!” The boy whined, hitting his knuckles against the soft cushion, looking very much like a five year old. You hummed in response, not quite acknowledging him so it seemed.

That’s it. Manjiro couldn't tolerate it anymore. It was seriously starting to get on his nerves. All the blond wanted was for you to come and cuddle him, not lying on this cold and empty bed as some cursed book was stealing all your attention from him. It was about time you made a decision.

Muttering a few curses for having to leave the comfortable bed, he quietly padded towards you, who seemed far too occupied with studies to acknowledge him. Carefully placing his chin atop your shoulder, he wrapped his arms around your waist and peered curiously over the worksheets. Don't get him wrong, he wasn't interested in the content in the slightest. The blond simply wanted to know what could have been so interesting that it made you ignore him for several hours straight.

He nudged your cheek, quite similar to the way a dog would whenever it wanted some attention from its owner. However, his nudge seemed to be a bit more awkward since his nose wasn't as long, causing his forehead to hit you slightly as well. You sighed at his stubbornness, tilting your head slightly to his side to make eye contact.

Manjiro was sporting his famous puppy dog eyes, a look reserved only for you and Ken. He released his grip on your waist and reached for the fabric of your hoodie, giving it a gentle tug. His pout deepened, and his bottom lip jutted out to make his point.

“Jiro~,” now it was your turn to whine. “I'd love to cuddle with you, but you know how important school is to me.” You blinked your eyelashes at him innocently, trying to coax him into waiting just a few more minutes. Manjiro could easily tell by your expression, as well as the lilt in your voice, since it was just slightly more sugar-coated than usual.

The boy shook his head in defiance, refusing to fall for that act again. You literally said the same thing an hour and a half ago. Did school really mean that much more to you than him?

“Forget school (Y/n)-chan,” he huffed, ignoring the appalled look you gave him as those words left his mouth. “Am I not more important?”

Manjiro was looking at you expectantly, eyebrows arched as he awaited your reply. The fact that you took so much time to answer did not deter him whatsoever, as he found the confusion in your pretty (e/c) eyes too adorable to make him angry. You were obviously taking his question very seriously, which you should, as Manjiro himself was not joking around. He did, in fact, want an actual answer from you.

“Of course you are, Jiro,” you spoke softly, eyes tinged with a hint of guilt that made Manjiro’s heart skip a beat. Perhaps you had taken his question a bit too seriously. Your hand went up to cup his cheek, eyebrows furrowing while doing so.

“I just want to achieve a stable future. I'm sorry if I've accidentally neglected you,” you said as the blond leaned into your soft, yet cold palm. He sighed contentedly, despite the coolness of your fingertips against his warm skin. Your hands always seemed to be so cold, even during the hottest days of summer.

A smile soon grazed his lips, onyx eyes twinkling with mischief. He nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck, peppering it with kisses as his hands once again snaked around your waist. Giggles escaped your lips as the boy suddenly lifted you, forcing a squeak out of you in the process.

Manjiro laughed at your reaction, finding it exceptionally cute. The blonde continued swaying with you back and forth until you both ended up falling onto the mattress. Snickers filled the room, your cheeks equally flushed as if you were completely drunk on each other.

Then he tightened his arms around you slightly. His forehead resting on yours as he held you trapped against the bed. “Jiro, get off, you’re heavy,” you gasped, words mixing with giggles.

“No more school, you got me?” He asked instead, that same pout from before reappearing on his face. Then, the boy repositioned both of you on the bed, laying you down more comfortably beside him. His arms were still securely wrapped around you, preventing any escape.

Manjiro closed his eyes after that, sighing dreamily as he inhaled your heavenly scent. Lips quirked up slightly as he felt your thin nimble fingers stroke his long ash blonde locks. Your angelic voice reached his ears as you started humming some song you had recently heard and grown to love.

As your lovely singing began to fade, Manjiro’s heart finally found a steady pace. For the first time since he had entered your room, did he realize that those four hours were worth the wait. Well, as long as he would get to keep you in his embrace afterwards.

[hollyhomburg]

Before I Leave You (Pt.70)

(Sneak Peek) (Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)

Summary: The pack meet with Moonbyul to discuss terms.

Tags: Fluff, drinking and drunk characters, hurt/comfort, trans! tae, dress up, girl on girl fluff, themes of forgiveness, vomiting, eating disorder mention but everything's good, brief sexual content, oral f. receiving, Exhibitionism, car sex, Talks of mental disorders, implied/confirmed autistic jimin,

W/c: 12.1k

A/n: Trying my hardest <3 I'm admittedly having a tough time right now, this chapter felt very nice to write because it's all about the beginning of the packs happy ending <3

Previous part - Masterlist - First part

At least Yoongi is sort of talking to you again. Sort of getting over it minute by minute. It’s hard. Namjoon watches you from where he's sprawled on the couch, holding a near empty bottle of champagne by the neck while Jungkook and Jin wrestle on the floor, sort of making out, sort of scenting each other as they go. Jimin requests a song that Tae would like- and then Yoongi and Hoseok are leaning over Yoongi's phone to make her the perfect playlist. happy to have something new and mundane to bicker over.

Morning is just cresting over the rooftops and the music is just turned down when gets up from the couch, slowly, dizzy. You're perched on the counter in your pj's watching Jimin and Jungkook chase each other around the room. the need to scent and wrestle and get all your restless energy out near palpable.

Hoseok and Jungkook have a tiny paper drink umbrella tucked behind their ears, the same one that Jin stuck in your drinks so that you can keep track of whose drink is whose. He and Jungkook gang up on Jimin to stick one into his hair, the tiny little baby bun that tae tied in his hair.

You giggle as Jungkook gives up and just loops his arms around Jimin's neck, no technice to it and all body weight dragging the three of them to the floor. Sprawled next to the library room door, now open. Tae’s makeup collection spread out on the green carpet like the fallen petals of some red flowering tree.

It changes from wrestling to tickling. and then the three of them are getting up and surrounding Yoongi, a paper umbrella in their fingers, Ganging up on your mate who takes it all with a huff and a surprisingly whiney, “guys.“

You still when Namjoon walks over, the same way you'd still if a wild animal were approaching. He doesn't settle close, just stands next to you, and pours himself the last melted bit of the drink in the blender. Pink and yellow swirling delicately. He makes a noise in his throat and looks at you like he hasn’t barely said a word to anyone in the whole last 24 hours, hasn’t barely said a word to you since you got off the phone with him and Moonbyul left the house. 

You sip at your drink, lips pursed around the straw and when you're done, Namjoon takes it from you and puts it on the counter. You think at first that he might be cutting you off but then he fingers the gauze there.

"I should probably check these." You nod obedient, wordless, unsure what to say. 

Fingers prodding at the red skin, delicate but knitting itself together slowly. “How much do they hurt?” he asks. 

“Probably a two,” you rate, almost without thinking, staring at his downturned eyes. The way his eyelashes still cling together from salt. Face glossy. You want to wash his face, pad across his cheeks gently the way that Jin does after you've been crying (something that you admittedly do a lot- the pack's resident crybaby). 

"So should I consider that a four or-" 

"No, this time I'm being honest," Namjoon stiffens, "It doesn't hurt when I touch stuff unless I'm not careful." Being honest about your hurts and pains has never been easy for you. But Namjoon has shown you time and time again that he's willing to take your hurts and fix them. You have no reason not to tell him the truth. 

Namjoon grips your palm, turning it over his hands again and again, looking down at your love line lifeline all tangled there and leveling you with a look that is neither angry nor resigned.

“Do you notice?” He asks, you swallow. Eyes itchy. 

“Notice what?” His finger presses to the center of your palm, the hollow there. 

“Still dry.” He says. 

You think of the mice, of drowning, you don't pull your hand from Namjoon's grasp, but you know he wouldn't let you anyway. You think about the mice, of dying, of trying to stay dry despite the things that try to swallow you whole. Water is not gentle, water is hungry. The rain pitters against the dark glass and melts the snow outside. But you and namjoon and the rest of the pack are dry and warm and safe in here. 

Your breath hitches, but you close your fingers around his hand and nod. “Still dry.” You agree. 

Namjoon closes his eyes and breaks the tension and this distance between you. Pulling himself between your thighs where you sit on the kitchen counter. Wrapping his arms around your shoulders to tug you to his chest, and breathing deep in the hollow of your throat. 

He pulls back just as abruptly. Hands resting on the counter on either side of your thighs. All up in your space and sour-smelling. It takes great effort for you not to turn away and keep his piercing eye contact. 

“Don’t do something like that again. Ever.” His jaw rolls and his scent spikes angry. But it's all temporary as you nose under his jaw to soothe him. Namjoon has every right to be angry with you for leaving, the same way Yoongi does. 

“Never. Promise.” You hold out your pinky and you mean it. 

Namjoon looks at you for a second, staring you down, waiting for you to look away. But then after a second, he loops his pinky through. 

Coming Saturday May 18th at 5PM EST (Time Zone Adjustments Below)

[vigilvntes]

Jason Todd x Reader | On again-off again relationship hcs

A/N: lisTen. i'm incredibly sleep deprived so this is gonna be very messy and i have a whole ass book to read before my class at 9am and i probably won't sleep tonight so let me have this. let me have my low-key volatile relationship with jason todd where we love each other so deeply that we can't even stand to be around each other sometimes because we frustrate the fuck out of each other but we also can't live without each other. as the great lorde once said: let me live that fantasy.

W/C: 2500+ (help me i basically just outlined a whole story </3)

likes, rbs and comments are all very much appreciated <3

SOME NSFW UNDER THE CUT! ALSO BONUS BATFAMILY GETTING INVOLVED IN THE DRAMA AT THE END BECAUSE ,, FUNNY!!

you and jason have known each other for three years, and you've been together for around two years and two months of that time, if damian's calculations are correct. it's electric and heated and frantic and loving and frustrating and soft and infuriating, all at the same time. you just can't seem to stay away from each other. it's a 'cat and mouse' kind of situation, one where you just can't seem to stop chasing each other despite how ridiculously awful it always seems to turn out in the end. the longest you've managed to really hold it together is seven months, but you can't stay away for more than a month at a time.

you make out like teenagers. make love almost every night. laugh at his dumb jokes or funny comments. patch up any mild injuries he comes home with. tickle each other until you're on the floor breathless, surrendering and begging him to show you mercy. you spend lazy mornings together in bed. bicker and shit-talk each other over breakfast. cuddle on the couch late at night. it's perfect in theory, and he's admittedly an amazing boyfriend. he's caring and attentive and he loves to love you and be loved. but your tempers get the better of both of you.

fights break out because you're both kind of impulsive and hot-headed. neither of you can help your snark or cutting comebacks sometimes. you run your mouths about something – anything, and you run the risk of everything breaking down within the hour. you know his weak spots, know how to push his buttons when he's really pushing yours; and as you know his, he knows yours just as well. you'd never go as far as to bring up anything too personal or out of pocket, but you still know just how to get on each others nerves perfectly. how to manually detonate the ticking time bomb before it blows up on its own accord.

you frustrate the fuck out of each other, and he has a tendency to just walk out of your apartment mid-argument. he puts the suit on, tells you he'd rather be out on the streets getting his ass handed to him by a gang of drunks dressed up as teletubbies and then have bane rush in and pummel him into the concrete than have to deal with you when you're feeling particularly prickly, and you tell him to go fuck himself on his way out. the battle to get the last word in commences, and you've often found yourself yelling at him from your apartment window whilst he yells up at you from the street below because you both just refuse to give up the fight.

most times he comes back, but sometimes he doesn't. when it hits 8am and you haven't heard him rummaging through your kitchen cupboards or refrigerator; he still hasn't crawled back into your bed, kissed your forehead softly and buried his face into the crook of your neck, you shrug your shoulders, tell yourself everything's going to be okay. and then sob violently into your pillow because it's over. he's gone. but with jason, it's never really over. by some weird twist of fate (love, but jason prefers to call it coincidence, although it's anything BUT that) you always end up finding your way back to each other. you break up and even DATE other people but it's never serious and it just never feels the same because for some strange reason whenever you're apart you both miss the chaos of each other and even though you can literally be the worst when you're together, you would rather be together and be the worst than be without each other.

jason turns up at your door at 2AM when he hears you might be seeing someone new after a breakup the month before, demanding to be let in and when you relent (pretty quickly) and open the door he immediately has you against the wall, desperately grabbing at your hips and kissing you like there's no tomorrow whilst mumbling that no one could ever compare to him so don't even think about trying to replace him.

he has you naked and spread out on the bed in ten minutes tops, his tongue swirling against your clit in all the right places, big hands gripping on to your thighs. he grins like a fucking maniac when he makes you cum in record time, just under a minute if he was counting correctly. you cum on his face again, his fingers, his thigh and eventually his cock, until you're laid on his chest with his cum leaking out of you, breathless and all fucked out, mumbling 'i love you'. he says it back, reminds you again that no one could ever be him, and you know he's right. you knew this would happen and truthfully you were desperate to have him back which is maybe, possibly why you made a point to mention to roy that you were seeing someone else because you just knew he'd tell jason.

on the flip side, you send jason a risky picture of yourself in a brand new lingerie set when you find out he's going on a date with someone. you immediately apologise and claim it to be accidental and that it was meant for someone else. you watch your phone blow up with calls and texts from jason, listen to each and every angry-horny-frustrated-infatuated voicemail he leaves and grin the whole time because you know you have him wrapped around your finger, as much as he denies it.

you turn your phone off, unlock your door and wait patiently by the open window until you hear angry footsteps coming from below, stomping up the stairs of your apartment building. he busts through your door and demands that you tell him what the fuck you think you're playing at. you feign innocence and tell him that it was a genuine mistake but he knows you're lying and he has you on the couch, straddling his lap almost immediately. your pyjamas have been torn off, giving him an up-close, in-person view of the pretty new set from the picture earlier. the view is much nicer when it's not on a tiny phone screen; pictures do the real thing no justice. his phone vibrates while you're trailing kisses down his jaw to his neck, and you tell him he should take the call because it's probably his date wondering where the hell he is but he just turns his phone off and tosses it to the side. why the hell would he go on some shitty, awkward first date when he could have you?

the reunion is always sweet. there's always that honeymoon period with him no matter how many times you've broken up– upped and left each other following an argument. when it's good, it's really good. but you just can't seem to escape the inevitable. eventually one of you pushes it too far and the whole thing blows up in your faces. he walks out, you cry yourself to sleep and then you find some way to worm your way back into the others life, depending on who picked the fight that left everything broken once again. neither of you are exactly sure why you fight like cat and dog. you're perfect for each other on paper; you understand each other on a far deeper and more intellectual level than anyone ever could. you get on like a house on fire on your good days (which are admittedly most days), but somehow the bad days always seem to outweigh the good. he once made a joke that it's because you love him so much that you can't live with him, but you also can't live without him. he was probably right.

one night, after a particularly nasty breakup the week before, he stumbles into your apartment clutching at his side, barely able to breathe. he's been so uncaring lately, letting himself get caught up in his own head and his emotions regarding you and your relationship and it's lead to him taking a few more blows than he normally would. tonight he paid the price, took what he thinks might be the final hit, and he needed to see you one last time just in case things don't work out for him. you don't even have the chance to ask him what he's doing in your apartment before he's collapsing on to your living room floor, blood dripping through his fingers and on to your carpet. you drop to your knees next to him and whisper his name so softly, inspecting the wound and feeling guilty when he hisses in pain when your fingers brush against it. it's deep, and yes you've patched him up before –you know how to stitch up cuts but you're not a medical professional and this is a serious wound to his abdomen. there's not much you can do about it alone. you're already crying but before you can start freaking out and trying to fix things he takes your face in his hands, his grip weak, and tells you very sincerely that he loves you deeply, and he's sorry for all of the fights he's caused and all of the times he walked out on you and that it's always been you and it always will be.

he's in and out or consciousness and you're begging him to wake up, to be okay; telling him that you love him and you can't lose him. you try your best to stop the bleeding, pressing towels and old shirts against the wound but it just won't stop. so you call alfred from jason's phone, explain to him what's going on and soon enough you're playing host to a batfamily gathering in your tiny living room. dick quite literally has to drag you away from his body kicking and screaming while bruce and alfred assess the situation. they decide to take him back to the manor, and of course you follow them. you spend days by his side, waiting for him to wake up. alfred has to take you by the elbow and walk you away from him to eat dinner or shower or sleep in jason's old room.

it's just so typical that you're not there when he wakes up. you're sleeping, bundled up in his bed sheets when alfred comes to wake you. you literally leap out of bed, almost tripping over your own feet as you run into the room jason's in. that stupid grin, although strained, spreads across his lips as soon as he sees you through half-shut eyes. you're crying already, rushing to his side and resting your head on his chest, soaking his shirt with your tears. he chuckles at your reaction, teases you for being so worried about him as if he hasn't already kicked death in the dick before, and he mocks you lightheartedly for admitting that you can't live without him (it was the last thing he heard before he lost consciousness). you giggle through your tears, letting it slide because when you look up at him, he's crying too.

it literally takes jason almost dying on your living room floor for you to both realise how much you actually mean to each other, and that having a connection and a love like this isn't something that you can and should just walk away from every couple of weeks. you both decide to start working on things; learning how to control your temper and when the appropriate time to shut the fuck up would be. how to talk things through maturely, without the yelling and constant breakups. of course, you still bicker and shit talk each other. and sometimes one of you will take it too far. jason will glare at you for a moment until you give him an awkward grin and mumble 'oops', and you'll give him the silent treatment for fifteen minutes (which would feel like HELL to him) until he makes you laugh. you're happier this way, knowing that it doesn't have to be that difficult and you can just be. you're not constantly waiting for something to go wrong or for one of you to fuck up, that anxiety has dissipated and you enjoy feeling calm and content with him.

+ bonus: batfamily getting in on the drama

the first time jason stormed into the batcave at 3am, fists balled and eyes red and puffy, bruce was immensely concerned. he sat jason down, put on his best dad™️ voice and asked 'what's wrong?'. jason told him it was nothing, just a little relationship trouble and that bruce didn't have to worry it, he just needed to get away and he thought the batcave would be the perfect place to brood for a few hours before going back home. the second time jason stormed in, he was still concerned for his emotional state, but not all that surprised to see him. bruce left him alone, let jason sit next to him, listened to him curse under his breath. the seventh time? bruce sat at his desk, jason beside him, listening to him ramble on and on about what had happened and how he took it too far again but it's not entirely his fault because you pushed his buttons but he shouldn't have said that to you because he loves you but you just get on his nerves sometimes. bruce nods occasionally, murmurs 'uh-huh' just to prove to jason that he is listening. kind of. sort of. not.

dick receives frustrated, angry texts at ungodly hours in the morning from jason telling him that the relationship is over. jason isn't sure why he vents to dick. it's definitely not because dick gives good advice, jason doesn't even open the texts dick sends back full of agony-aunt type solutions. one night, he receives one of these texts from jason, telling him that you're done with him and he can't ever go back to your apartment. all he can do the next day when he sees you and jason walk into the manor, grinning at each other like you're the sun, moon and stars with his arm wrapped around your waist, is shrug his shoulders.

listen, if damian is going to be forced to sit through the weekly couples quarrel at the manor, he's at least going to make some sort of profit from it. it starts out as a secret, damian makes everyone place bets (with real cash) on how long it'll take you and jason to piss each other off when you come over for dinner. tim wins the first time, and is less than amused when he only receives half of what everyone put into the bet, damian citing that he's the organiser so he gets half of the profit. eventually, he branches out. he starts taking money for bets on how long it'll take for a fight to break out, what you'll be fighting about, and which one of you will leave the dinner table first. everyone joins in (even alfred), and when you find out about damian's little scheme, even you can't help but slide over a $20 bill with a declaration that it'll take jason 45 minutes to say something that'll have you glaring him down. you win that bet, because you know him better than anyone else, and you split the profits with jason. everyone thinks this is unfair, and you're both promptly excluded from participating in the betting.

[bettyfrommars]

I'm on Fire

chapter 18: the ties that bind

masterlist playlist

18+ MDNI

If you've come this far in the series, you know what to expect. No physical violence in this final chapter, but there might be some jealousy, protective/jealous Eddie, and threats. Steve with an OC character, parental Stobin, unprotected sex, oral, and meeting the extended family. Can't say goodby without a glimpse of Charlene. Reader is an artist and a vegetarian, but I try hard to keep away from any physical description.

word count: 15k

official author's note will be at the end of this chapter. I cherish you, my I'm on Fire fam, I'm so grateful for the ride, and I hope you enjoy this one.

"It's a long dark highway and a thin white line Connecting baby, your heart to mine."

-- the ties that bind, Bruce Springsteen

The next morning, a new Henderson opened her eyes to the world. 

Steve was the next one to hold her after her parents, and he hadn’t expected to cry, to have his throat close up around his emotions and choke him when he was told they named her Stevie.  He held her so close but so gentle and he barely noticed how wet his cheeks were until Robin came close and rubbed her palm in circles on his back.

“She kinda looks like me. That’s weird right?” Steve hushed, voice catching in a tearful hiccup. He was already thinking of the tattoo he would get with her name, inside his arm, close to his heart. 

“Yeah, that is weird and impossible, Dingus,” Robin smiled into his shoulder, stroking a loving arc over Stevie’s little infant forehead with her finger.  “But she kinda does.”

The labor had been long, the sun was up, and everyone was exhausted.  Astrid was at the house making breakfast while you and Eddie looked after Oliver.  He insisted on watching Pee-Wee Herman's Big Adventure again, and that was when you learned it was one of Eddie’s favorites as well; he knew every line by heart.  He mimicked Ollie with the chant, “I know you are but what am I, I know you are but what am I?”

And it was only then that you realized why Eddie had made a joke once about violently cutting off your mattress tag, the one that specifically said DO NOT REMOVE. Also, it explained why Steve so ardently wanted to start his own biker gang called Satan’s Helpers.

After breakfast, Eddie took you back to the Hammer to get your car, and even though you didn’t want to socialize, you were also in no mood to be stranded at your place without wheels.  Jackie reminded you that you looked like shit on your way through the smoky haze from the late morning drinkers.  You simply nodded in silent agreement, and it wasn’t so much a nod as your head lazily bobbing on a spring.  Your internal clock was out of whack, and you desperately needed a shower.  A shower and a soak in the healing waters of some type of magical pond that could heal you from the inside out. 

Maybe a month on a beach somewhere.

And then you pictured Eddie in a pair of loud, tropical swim trunks and giggled to yourself.

You were just about to leave the locker room with your paycheck and a few of your things, when tall, blonde Erika pushed in with a concerned look on her face, making you back up.  She shut the door behind her and leaned against it, covering the “Safety in the Workplace” poster. 

“Hey, so, that guy is here looking for you again,” her whisper was urgent.

Your heart sank for a second as the memory of Craig gripped you.  You had to remind yourself that he was long gone.  

But you wondered if a part of him would always be lurking somewhere near, haunting you from beyond the grave.

Your next guess was Chief Hopper, maybe he had more questions for you.  

“What guy?” You were hoping she had a clue, or asked a name, so that you could prepare yourself, doing your best to smooth out the front of your shirt.

She only shrugged.  “He’s older, Paul Newman type. Smells like he’s made of money. This is the third time he’s been here asking about you.”

It still didn’t ring any bells, but you’d only slept a half hour on the couch curled up next to Eddie while Pee-Wee stormed the Alamo looking for his bike.  

You took a slow peek around the corner of the bar from the hallway and saw John Gregson sitting there with a drink in his hand. Full head of salt n’ pepper hair slicked back off his face, wearing one of his signature gray suits. 

Was he by himself?  The way Charlene had been popping up like a bad rash lately, you almost expected to see her there, playing the dutiful wife.  

You hid yourself in the hallway again, wondering if you had it in you to have a conversation with anyone, let alone him.

To say his face “lit up” when he saw you would be an understatement; He looked as if you’d been pulled from the rubble of a burning building, and he thought he would never see you again.  

You found it hard to match the enthusiasm, even though he’d turned out to be a decent guy.  

He stood up from his stool and Shana gave you both a curious look from behind the bar as she poured a shaken martini into a glass. She was wearing one of her long, black wigs that day with Bettie Page bangs.  

“It’s good to see you,” he gestured to the seat next to him, his icy blue eyes shone like the Mediterranean Sea. “It’s been a while.”

You sank one hip onto the padded stool so that one foot was still on the ground.  You didn’t want him to think you were staying for too long.

“I’m sorry I’m so behind on your painting, life has been—”

He put his hand up, palm out to you.  It was his left hand and you noticed that he was not wearing his wedding ring.  

“Please, don’t worry about the painting.  Take all the time you need, that’s not why I’m here.  Can I buy you lunch?”

“I-I…” you fumbled.  “I was just on my way out.”

“A drink then?” He cleared his throat and shifted closer casually so that his knee was touching yours. He swirled his drink in his hand.  “There’s something I’ve been wanting to talk to you about and I didn’t feel it was appropriate to do it over the phone.”

Your anxiety spiked a bit, and it wasn’t as if he was a serial killer or anything, but his sudden shift in proximity gave you pause.  You asked Shana for an iced tea and gestured for him to follow you to one of the more isolated tables against the dark red wall, underneath a framed Led Zeppelin poster.  He pulled your chair out for you before getting settled with his gin and tonic, making sure to use one of the black cocktail napkins as a coaster. 

“I know you’re busy,” he cleared his throat. “So, permit me to get right to the point.” He removed the two stir straws from his drink and put them on the napkin.

 “First of all, I’d like to apologize for my wife. I believe she’s caused you quite a bit of trouble.”

You had not expected that one

His stare was too intense, you had to shift your attention and take a gulp of your drink.

“You see,” he settled back, keeping his forearms on the table.  “I met Charlene when I was barely out of high school, we were together before I made my money, and I always felt like I owed her my blind devotion.  Lately it’s obvious that we only make each other miserable.”

He continued.  “I’m not a stupid man. I always knew about the other boyfriends, not that she made much of an effort to hide it,” he smiled wryly to himself.  “Not to bore you with the details of my failed marriage, but I know that Charlene’s the reason you lost your job at the gallery, and I’d like to rectify that, if I can.”

Realization dawned at his words.  Why hadn’t you put those pieces together earlier? Of course Charlene was the reason you lost your job, she probably threatened to remove her funding and ruin Judith.  

You could barely catch up to what he was saying before he started again.  “I’m opening a gallery in Chicago, and I’d like you to come out and run it.”

You choked and had to cover your mouth with the back of your hand.  “Excuse me?”

John smiled so genuinely at your reaction that the skin around his eyes crinkled.  He undid a button on his suit jacket to get more comfortable. “You’d have full creative license, you’d be able to hire your team, do with it what you wish.  I trust your vision.”

It was that opportunity you’d been dreaming about for years, the one you’d been working toward for almost a decade.  

So easy, just like that.

Here, take it, it’s everything you’ve ever wanted.

…but was it?

Your head swam, vision tunneling slightly as you glanced around the Velvet Hammer.  You imagined Steve on his stool at the door and Eddie pulling you aside in the hallway to kiss you.  The song Everlong by The Foo Fighters was on, and you thought about how Chicago was over three hours away.  You’d have to move; it was much too far for a commute.

“That’s such a generous offer, I…I don’t know what to say?” 

“You don’t have to say anything right now,” and before you knew what was happening, his hand slid across the table and was on top of your fingers. 

Your eyes flashed to his hand over yours and you sat there shocked while your need to be polite overrode your core instincts. 

“I know there’s a lot to think about,” he continued, removing his hand to cup it around his drink again.  “Of course, I’d pay for all of your moving expenses.  I own a building downtown with an artist loft I think you might be interested in.  You’d have plenty of room to live and paint, start fresh, if you wanted to.”

Start fresh.

You felt like Shana had slipped a psychedelic into your tea, like you were melting into your chair.  Your brain was having a hard time keeping up with the reality of what was being offered.  

He tossed back another sip and wiped the corners of his mouth, looking almost unsure if he should say the next part.  “Charlene and I—” he licked his perfectly straight teeth in contemplation. “---we’ve decided to go our separate ways.  We’re selling the lake house, a few other properties, and she’s planning to move to Hawaii to be near her sister.”

A thought zipped through your mind then. How long had Charlene known she was leaving? Why would she become a partner in The Velvet Hammer and then move to Hawaii?

“That means I’ll be at my condo in Chicago most of the time, unless I’m traveling for business,” he gave you a pointed look again.  “There are so many places I’d love to take you to in the city.  If you are interested, that is.”

“Well,” you laughed nervously. “I’d need to talk to my boyfriend about it. About the job, I mean.  Moving to Chicago. His whole life is here.”

“Certainly,” John nodded, not missing a beat. “You talk to him and when you’re ready, you have my number. The gallery space I’m buying needs work, so I’d like to fly you out there in a week to take a look at it, once you decide.”

You were still staring glassy eyed at the edge of the table after John stood and left the Hammer.  You hadn’t remembered to breathe in god knew how long, so you tried that, letting out a hard exhale that made a cocktail napkin go flying off the table.

Would Eddie move with you? Visit you on the weekends? The latter seemed more likely but also not, considering how demanding his work schedule was.  Katie told you that Robin had asked her to move in, and you were overjoyed for her.  She’d be paying her share of the rent and utilities for the next month, but after that you’d either need to find a smaller place or a new roommate because you couldn’t afford your duplex on a Velvet Hammer salary.  

One week was all you had.

Did you even need a week? Surely you knew your answer.

—-------

The tires on the tow truck screeched to a stuttering halt out on a Hawkins back road lined with cornfields.

Behind the wheel, Eddie idled there, right in front of that familiar white picket fence around the big yard and the farmhouse with a porch swing and a red barn in back.

Eddie knew the details of the old Ferguson place by heart, it had been his dream house ever since he was in high school and used to take long rides on his bike to clear his head.  The couple that had spent their life raising a family there were in their 80’s now, and he’d heard through the grapevine that they were relocating to a retirement community.  To a smaller place that was easier to care for.  All of their children were grown and lived far away.

The newest addition to the house was where his eyes fell.  

His attention fixed on the sign at the end of the driveway for a long while, heart thudding in his chest.

The old Ferguson Farmhouse was for sale.

—---

The next day was the Welcome Home Baby Stevie barbeque at Steve’s and he had a blue “Kiss the Cook” apron on and a spatula in his bandaged hand when you and Eddie arrived.  He wore an elastic bracelet made of colorful plastic beads around his wrist that you assumed was a new gift from Oliver.  The sky was bright blue, almost blinding, and the air was crisp. 

“You sure you’re okay?” Eddie asked on the way up the driveway to Robin and Steve’s backyard where the lawn had been neatly mowed and edged.  “Anything you want to talk about?”

You hated keeping things from him, but you had no idea how to bring up John’s offer, or if you even wanted to mention it.  Eddie had invited you over to his place the night before, but you’d told him you needed some time alone to get to bed early.  Turns out that being alone with your thoughts only made it worse.

“No, I’m fine my love, I promise,” you leaned into him.  “I’m just tired.”

He put his arm around your shoulders to scoop you closer and kiss your ear.  “I’m gonna take care of you tonight.  Make you a bath, pour you some wine, kiss you all over.  How does that sound?”

“It sounds—” you felt emotions water your eyes suddenly and you blinked it away as quickly as you could.  “That sounds perfect.”

You felt guilty that you were even considering John’s offer, but how could you not? A very hopeful part of you said that both were a possibility, that you could keep Eddie and have your dream job in the city. But how? You couldn’t take Eddie away from Wayne and Oliver and his business, you would never ask that of him.  

“Is Wayne coming?” You asked, noticing you did not see his truck.  Also, your thoughts were racing again and you needed a distraction.

“He’ll be here later,” Eddie assured you.  “Astrid is picking him up on her way over.  Max and Lucas stopped by the garage for a visit and I didn’t want to disrupt the reunion.”

You felt a bit embarrassed at the mention of his longtime friend Max, only because you’d been made to believe that she was a mysterious redhead that Eddie was having an affair with not too long ago.

Thanks to Charlene.

You imagined that Hawkins would be a much better place without her lurking around every corner.  Was there a chance that Judith would take you back on at Moon River Gallery?  No, you had no desire to go crawling back to that place. Unless a new gallery opened, or your art took off to celebrity status, you’d be waitressing at the Hammer and squirreling away your tips for the foreseeable future.

But, you’d have Eddie.

You’d been spacing out so hard, you barely realized that Robin was standing in front of you, offering to take the sack with a Tupperware full of homemade potato salad and hamburger buns. Eddie was carrying your veggie burger patties that he bought especially for the occasion, and the fixings to make tofu skewers.  You told him you were a vegetarian once, and you never had to remind him again.  

“You good?” Robin asked, noting the way you shook your head a few times to come back to reality. Katie came up behind Robin to place her hands on her girlfriend’s hips before she moved over to your side.

“Have a beer with me?” Katie asked softly, reading the weariness in your slightly hunched shoulders.  

It was officially fall, but the weather was warm for Indiana in late September.  Eddie had on his Iron Maiden concert tee under his jacket from their 1985 World Slavery tour and black converse with his worn jeans, and he took his leather off and threw it on a lawn chair as he walked over to the grill.

“You better leave the hard stuff to me,” he said to Steve, shifting his gaze accusatory to grill.  The last time he let Steve grill your veggie burger, he’d charred it within an inch of its life.  

“Have at it,” Steve dusted his hands together.  “I have to go check on my pie in the oven.”

“You baked a pie?” Eddie gawked at him like he had hornets crawling out of his ears.  

“Well, Astrid made it,” he pinched a few sunflower seeds out of the front pocket of his apron and popped them in his mouth, chewing as he spoke. “It’s cherry,” he bobbed his eyebrows up and down a few times suggestively, and Eddie scoffed, elbowing him out of the way so that he could put his skewers down on the folding table.

You were just about to take the first sip of your beer when a man’s voice that was not familiar called over from the driveway.  

“There’s that long-haired freak I’ve been looking for.”

The skin on your arms prickled with gooseflesh and you spun around, thinking there was about to be some sort of trouble. 

Slightly unrealistic to think the worst, but you were understandably alert.

There at the edge of the lawn stood a tall, handsome guy you’d never laid eyes on before, maybe in his late 20’s, and he had a Coffin Kings cut on that was very similar to the one’s Eddie and Steve wore.  At his side, holding his hand was an adorable redhead. Her long hair was pulled through the back of a baseball cap, but you noted that the bright candy color was deeply familiar.  

You turned to see Eddie’s reaction like you were watching a tennis match.  

“Well, I’ll be damned,” he beamed.  “Look what the cat dragged in, "and he stopped what he was doing to make his way over with his arms out and the two hugged, giving each other hearty pats on the back.

“Max!” Robin squealed, practically doing a cartwheel in that direction.  You and Katie fell back and stood shoulder to shoulder, watching the group reconnect in a way that was very familial.  

Lucas and Max had been together since high school, you learned, and Lucas was a member of the Coffin Kings Indianapolis chapter.  The song Love Spreads by The Stone Roses played from Robin's portable boombox on the steps as the new arrivals meandered in to be with the rest of the gang and assimilated with ease.  

Eddie rested his hand on your lower back to introduce you, and instead of a handshake, Max went in for a hearty hug, and in your ear, she said, “Eddie loves you so much, I’ve been dying to meet you.”

When she pulled back to meet your eyes, you nodded, swallowing hard.  “I’ve heard so much about you,” you told her, and then Max shot a look at Eddie and made a crack about how she hoped it was all good things that you’d heard.

They were even more interested to meet Katie, being that Robin had not been serious about anyone since before Oliver was born.  Just then, the Oliver in question came bursting out of the house flying his hot dog bun through the air like a plane, making engine noises.  

By the time Dustin and Suzie came by with their new baby, the smell of burgers charring on the grill filled the air and you helped Steve bring some more chairs out to the lawn.  Eddie was taking much care to keep your vegetarian stuff away from the meat, and you couldn’t help but notice with deep adoration.

Astrid had a lot on her mind.  So much so that she didn’t have it in her to make the usual banter with Wayne that she enjoyed when they were together.

“You okay, darlin’?” Wayne turned to her in the truck on the way over.

“Oh,” she tucked a thick swatch of dark hair behind her ear. “You know, just thinking about how excited Steve must be about the new baby.”

There was a distinct melancholy in her voice.  One of the reasons the relationship between her and Steve had never gone any further than besties who make love was her refusal to take away his chance at a big family.  She was barely 21 when a doctor told her she’d never be able to conceive. Well, technically he said there was a small chance—a hairline percentage—but that it “would take an actual miracle”---those were his words.  

She loved Steve too much to not let him be a dad.  He was made for that life.  Ever since he was a teenager, he’d known he wanted to be a father, and once he had Oliver, she knew she’d done the right thing.  She’d tried to keep their relationship platonic time and time again, but in the end, the chemistry between them always proved to be too strong.  

She’d decided that she would love him until he found someone else, and then she would continue to love him from the shadows.  She’d given her heart long ago, and with him it would stay.  

“Hell, look at the head of hair on that kid,” Wayne said when Suzie introduced him to her daughter.  He gave a crooked grin and stroked a finger along the back of her tiny, exposed hand.  

At that, Dustin took his cap off and swiped a hand through his unruly mane.  “Thank god the rest of her looks take after her mother.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Lucas grumbled, thumping his friend in the arm.  

Steve had his back to the crowd when they came in and Astrid spanked him on the bum on her way up the stairs to the kitchen.

He spun on his heel and was quick to cage his arms around her so she could only squirm.  His face was flushed and glowing.  “You meet the kid?”

“I did,” normally, she would’ve kissed him, but instead she pulled back a bit, tilting her chin away.  “She’s so beautiful, Steve.”

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I—” she knew she was a fool to think he wouldn’t be able to read her face, a fool to think he couldn’t read her like a book after all of those years.  

Steve frowned, examining her face for a clue to her distress.  

Astrid’s stomach felt like she’d swallowed a lead weight.  

She hadn’t decided if she should tell him or not.

About the secret she’d been carrying with her for a few days.  

15 years, that’s how long she’d been in love with him.

Back when he was 19 and she was 23.

They’d known each other since they were little kids.

“I need to talk to you later,” she told him.

Steve dropped his arms from around her but held her hand.  “You can’t tell me now?”

She’d be 38 in December.

“Later, okay?” She winked at him to ease his suffering, and then made her way into the house, knowing that he stood there the whole time and watched her go. 

But later that day never came.  

Wayne wanted to get back and rest before his chemo treatment, and Dustin and his family only stayed for about an hour as they were all understandably still exhausted and wanting to recover at home.  

Astrid waved goodbye to Steve on her way out, and Steve stood up from his chair thinking he’d get a kiss, or at least a hug—but then she was gone.  

He tried not to think too much of it.  If he’d done something to upset her, she was never shy about letting him know.  Maybe she was tired of socializing, maybe she needed a break from him.

Lord knows he wished he could take a break from himself.  

Eddie looked over at where you stood talking with Max and Robin, and he recalled the conversation he’d had with Wayne a few days earlier.

“I don’t have to tell you you found a good one,” Wayne said from the couch in his trailer while Eddie sat next to him.  “I think you know they don’t come around very often.”

“Oh believe me, I know,” Eddie raked a hand through his hair, brushing his bangs off his forehead one, two, three times.  “I keep thinking one day she’s going to wake up and realize she could do a lot better.”

“You’ve done better than you give yourself credit for,” his uncle returned in a low, steady voice. 

When the next words came, Eddie felt a tightness in his throat:

“I’m proud of you, son.”

Wayne had a hard time leaving the house the day after his treatments, so Eddie always came by to bring him lunch and make sure he had everything he needed.  One day he came by to check on Wayne and found that you were already there, doing his dishes for him.

He’d never been with anyone who cared about the people in his life like that.  

Back at the barbeque, you slipped up next to him and planted your lips on his bicep, breathing in the sandalwood and leather of his scent.  “Penny for your thoughts?”

“Since you asked,” he smirked.  “I was thinking how I wish I’d met you a lot sooner.”

“How much sooner?” You batted eyes at him once he turned to face you. “In high school?”

Eddie made a yuck face.  “No, you would not have given me a chance in high school.  I would’ve been a lovesick puppy, but you probably wouldn’t have even known I existed.”

“Are you kidding?” You stuck the tip of your tongue out between your teeth, examining him.  “I would’ve jumped your bones so fast.”

“So fast, huh?” He chuckled, taking you by the hips. “What about now?”

He pulled you in and you hummed against his lips, trying not to get too horny right there in front of the guests.  

Lucas and Max would be in town for a couple days, so you and Eddie made plans to meet up at the Velvet Hammer when you were off work on Tuesday.  By the time the sun went down, all of the visitors were gone, and you were happy to head home as well after helping with some cleanup.  

“Robin and I can take care of it,” Katie nudged you away from trying to wash out a casserole dish at the sink. “You get out of here and go rest.  Make Eddie rub your feet or something.”

You both stopped what you were doing to look at each other.  

The way you were searching your friend’s face made her turn to give you her full attention.  In the background, you could hear Steve trying to convince Oliver to get his pajamas on and brush his teeth in a sing-song voice.  

“I can’t believe how much has happened in these past few months,” you still had soap bubbles popping on your wet hands and you slid them absently along the thighs of your jeans. 

Katie gave a thoughtful sniff.  “I think about it a lot,” she mused. “About that night on the couch at our place when you first told me about the guy who picked you up in the tow truck, and then meeting the boys at The Hideout and then—”

She cringed and covered her face with a dish towel, remembering her “date” with Steve.  “---it feels so surreal that Steve and I actually…well…I don’t want to think about it.  It’s too weird.”

“But then you and Robin found each other again,” you offered, thinking back to that first barbecue at their house when Eddie had to take off suddenly for secretive Coffin Kings business.  

It was on the tip of your tongue to tell your friend about the offer from John Gregson.  Katie knew you better than most people and you could always trust her advice to be on the mark.  

For some reason, you wanted to cry, just drop to your knees and start bawling right there on the kitchen floor.  For no one reason just

Everything

Katie caught the way your jaw moved like you were just about to say something, but then Eddie’s hands were snaking around to hold your back flush to his chest.  Your hair caught on his beard stubble when he leaned in, warm breath at your ear.  “You ladies need any help in here?”

You closed your eyes; you were glad to have him there. Glad to be in his arms, glad to know, in your heart, that he would always try his best for you.

But you were the one keeping a secret.  

Robin joined Katie at the sink and told you both to take a hike, lovingly.  

Steve came into the kitchen after you were both gone and the engine of Eddie’s Chevelle could be heard thundering down the road.

The first thing he did was pick up the beige, wall-mounted phone and call Astrid.  He stood there for a while with the receiver pressed to his ear and his other arm folded over his chest before he held the mouthpiece out in front of him and stared at it.

“She’s not answering,” he mumbled loud enough that the girls could hear.  

“Maybe she’s at Wayne’s? Did you check there?” Robin offered; her hair worn up in a haphazard ponytail.

Steve checked the clock first to make sure he wasn’t bothering Uncle too late, but it was barely 8:30 and he was probably up in his recliner watching M*A*S*H reruns.  

Wayne answered and they exchanged a few words, but then when Steve hung up again, he was quiet, contemplatively so.

“What did he say?” Robin asked impatiently, drying some silverware with a checkered towel.

Steve frowned.  “He said she dropped him off almost two hours ago and told him she was going home.”

He tried her house one more time and, again, no answer.  He let it ring five times but disconnected once her answering machine clicked on.  

“Maybe she went to bed early,” Katie shrugged.  “And turned the ringer off.”

Steve knew better; Astrid barely slept.  Normally, not being able to get a hold of her would not phase him, but something about the way she’d been acting that night set an alarm off in his gut.  

Outside, there was the sound like a firecracker bomb going off that shook the house.  Robin yelped and Steve bolted to the window to yank the yellow curtain back to see where it had come from.  

He got there just in time to see a streak of lightning crack the dark sky and a drizzle of rain hit the glass.  “Oh shit, good thing Eddie came in the Chevelle,” the droplets turned into a downpour as he stood there.  

“Looks like a hell of a storm is brewing.”

—----

Earlier that day, Charlene Gregson marched out of Murray Bauman’s office with her lawyer in tow.  She wore her oversized sunglasses and no expression on her face as they went down in the elevator and exited into the austere lobby.  She looked like a million bucks, which was probably the cost of all of the gold and diamond jewelry she had on.  

Outside on the busy street, her personal chauffeur was waiting by the Towncar to open the door for her while her lawyer, a pit-bull of a man named Saul, got in on the other side to slide in next to her.  Billy was out there waiting on his bike, to make sure no one bothered her on their way out.  He flicked his cigarette to the ground and revved the engine, angling to fall in line behind the Towncar.

“You sure this is what you want?” Saul posed the question to her as he slammed his door shut. They’d just thrown a lot of money at Murray and had him sign official documents.

Charlene sounded annoyed.  “It’s a bit late for that, isn’t it? The deal is done.”

He continued. “I suppose I’m still trying to wrap my head around why you would—” 

“I don’t pay you to ask personal questions,” she sniffed. “Just make sure there’s a smooth transition.  I don’t want to be having a cocktail on the beach and find out that you fumbled something, and I’m forced to fly back out here.”

The town car sailed into traffic and the two sat in silence for a few minutes until Charlene stared out the window at the passing buildings on their way back to the lake house. 

 “Have you ever been in love, Saul?” 

He was confused by the question and tapped his foot a few times.  “I can’t really say I have.” 

After recent events, and everything that he’d been tasked to do in her name for the benefit of someone else made him wonder. “What about you?”

“Only once,” she pressed her red lips together, eyes unblinking behind her sunglasses.  “And once will have to be enough.”

Saul assumed she meant her soon to be ex husband John, and so he left it at that.  

—-------

In a matter of seconds, the rain was coming down in sheets and the windshield wipers on the Chevelle were flapping back and forth at supernova speed.

“We could go back to my apartment if you want,” Eddie turned the Faith No More song down on the radio so that he could be heard over the rain.  “But your place is cozier, and I know both are fairly small but I’ve been wanting to talk to you about—”

“I think I want to stay at my place tonight,” you blurted it out, keeping your attention fixed on the dash, staring at nothing. “Alone, if that’s alright.” 

You could see in your peripheral vision that he turned to look at you, and you offered a reflexive smile, shoulders hunched a bit as if you were trying to fold  in on yourself.  

He smoothed his palm around the steering wheel and tried not to let the sensitive side of him that had been abandoned his whole life jump to conclusions.  Not everyone needed to sleep next to the person they loved every night; you wanting space was totally reasonable and had nothing to do with your feelings for him.

Right?

Just in case, he decided to make sure.  “Was it something I said or? Cause if there’s an issue between us, you know you can talk to me.”

For some reason, his insistence to have healthy communication irritated you.  Possibly because you knew he was right and you should put it all out on the table and talk to him, but you didn’t know how.  Your brain had barely been able to process the offer from John, let alone put the whole thing into words.

“It’s nothing you did,” you said softly.  “I just need time to think.”

Something about your tone and choice of words made his heart rate increase.  “Think about what?”

“Just stuff Eddie, okay? I don’t want to talk about it right now!” You snapped at him, for the first time ever.  

After everything with Erika and Charlene and Melanie and thinking he’d been cheating on you, you’d never lost your temper with him, and the two of you had never had a fight.  As much as you knew that arguments and disagreements were a very normal part of intimate relationships, you still felt like shit the second the words came out with such vitriol.

There it was, Eddie’s biggest fear: you were pulling away from him.  

He’d suffocated you just like he was prone to do.  He was “too much”, and now you were getting sick of him.  

For the next few minutes of the drive to your place, neither of you said a word.  

You because you didn’t want to take your confusion and anxiety out on Eddie, and Eddie because he didn’t want to sound like a whiny, needy bitch and make things worse.    

He parked up in your driveway to get you close to the door, but he kept the engine running to let you know he was honoring your wish to drop you off and let you be.  

You took a deep breath and flipped the manual lock up with two fingers.

“Wait, let me—” he was about to get out and come around to hold his coat out for you so that you wouldn’t get wet, but you were too quick for him.

“I’ll be fine, goodnight.” you were soaked the second you stepped out, fumbling in the pocket of your bag to find your keys.

“I love you,” Eddie’s voice was barely loud enough to be heard over the weather.

“Love you too,” you said quickly, and then you were bolting for the house, wishing you’d left the porch light on.  

Once you were inside, you clicked the deadbolt shut and watched the beam of Eddie’s headlights retreat.

This was ridiculous.  You were being ridiculous.  

There’s a beautiful man out there who treats you better than you’ve ever been treated in your whole life.  

You threw your bag on the floor and undid the lock to jerk open the door again.

You stumbled out into the rain.  “Eddie wait!”

But all you could see were his taillights as he pulled onto the main street and drifted away.  

—------

Back at her house, Astrid let the phone ring.

At one point, she had her hand on it, ready to pick up, but then decided against it.  

It was impossible for her to be fake with Steve, but she also wasn’t ready to be as forthcoming as she needed to be.  

She stood at the table and looked at the paperwork from the doctor's office one more time before she made her way over to the couch and hugged a pillow to her chest to let the tears fall hot and heavy.  

She had her eyes closed, so she didn’t notice the lights approaching in the driveway or hear Steve shouting her name from the sidewalk as he stood out in the rain.

He’d borrowed Robin’s car to ease his mind and make sure Astrid was okay.  What if she had slipped and hit her head or something? What if she was there with another dude? Also, a possibility under their “don’t ask, don’t tell” relationship agreement.    

The white t-shirt he had on was soaked through, making the tattoos underneath look like they were a design imprinted on the material that hugged his muscles.  

He banged on the door with the side of his fist and shouted her name again. 

By then, Astrid could hear him, but she stayed curled on the couch and waited in vain for him to give up and leave.  

—--

Eddie scowled to himself as he parked the Chevelle in one of the garages and made his way across the parking lot and up the steps to his apartment, shaking his wet hair like a dog.  He could hear a few of the guys partying in the clubhouse, and he thought about joining them, but realized his spirits were too low to be social. There was a punching bag in the back office where he normally did his workouts to burn off steam, but he wasn’t in the mood for that either.  

He told himself he would check on you first thing in the morning, but then it occurred to him that you might not want to hear from him right away.  He wanted to respect your wishes, your boundaries.  

He didn’t want to smother you.

On the nightstand next to his phone was the card for the real estate agent he’d visited the day before.  There was a room on the second floor of the Ferguson farmhouse with a view of the big backyard and he imagined setting some easels up to make it a place for you to paint.  It had a big living room with a fireplace and a workshed in the barn.  He wanted to talk to you about it, to ask if maybe you could see yourself living there.  With him.  

But now he wondered if things were moving too fast.  

He crossed his arms over his body and took his shirt off in the bathroom mirror.  He rubbed a hand down his stomach, noting the areas of skin that were not covered in inked designs.  The fanged bat with wings spread wide on his chest, the dragon design on his bicep, the grim reaper on his forearm.  A crude dagger made to look like it pierced his skin just under his rib cage that said, “true friends stab you in the front”.  There were other bits of traditional biker flash scattered around that Steve had doodled on him over the past decade.  On his other forearm was a memorial tattoo for his mother with her name, the year she died, and an angel statue with eyes that dripped blood, surrounded in roses and thorns, and the thorns came down over the back of his hand.  It was done in a way so that the bats that had been inked there earlier were still visible.  

He was barely 15 when another friend inked HELLFIRE on his knuckles.  It was done with a homemade tattooing gun like the ones used in prison, and the letters had to be redone later because they were basically chicken scratches.  One of the other earliest ones was the skull with a snake through it on his opposite bicep with his nickname “War Machine” underneath.  

Some days, he wanted to get them all removed and start over.

Other days, he wanted to go balls to the wall like Steve and be inked from ear to foot.  

He threw his soaked shirt in the hamper and was just about to grab a beer out of the small fridge near his desk to take into the shower with him—

but then there was a knock at the door.  

At first, he thought it was one of the other Coffin Kings, trying to drag him down to get plastered with them, but then he noticed that the rapping of knuckles was soft, cautious even.  

“Eddie?”

His head snapped around at the sound of the voice.

It was you. 

—------

Steve held his finger on the doorbell, relentlessly.  “Astrid, if you don’t answer the goddamn door, I’m gonna break it down!  You know I will!”

Astrid wiped her face, flapping her hand to dry her eyes and cheeks to the best of her ability.  She still had on the flowy, floral, maxi dress with an empire waist that she’d worn at the barbeque, and she wrapped a black shawl around her shoulders as she stomped begrudgingly to the door. 

Just as she was about to reach up to unlock the safety chain, there was a loud thud from Steve’s foot slamming into the wood, vibrating the hinges.

“Steve stop!” She yelled, fussing with the second lock on the doorknob.  

She yanked the door back and there he was: soaked to the bone. 

There was only a short awning over her front steps, and so he was standing as close to the frame as possible while more thunder rumbled in the distance. His wet hair had flopped into his eyes, and he swiped it back with a twist of his head, spitting to the sidewalk as he did so.  

His expression was one of anger at first, but then it melted into confusion when he could tell right away that she had been crying.  “Why aren’t you answering your phone?”

“This is a bad time,” she stayed blocking the entrance, although the yearning in his eyes was actively testing her resolve.

“The hell it is?” He pushed. He shifted to see behind her, as if there was someone or something she was hiding.  “You’re upset, I can tell.  Let me in.”

“No.” That was her answer, but Steve wasn’t having it.

He stomped up onto the threshold, wet hair dripping onto her face as he closed in, bracing his hand on the door so that she couldn’t shut it.  “Why don’t you want to see me?”

She tried to look everywhere but his face, but then his hand caught her chin and guided her eyes up to meet his. 

 “Talk to me,” he whispered from lips dotted in water droplets.  

There was a tug of war going on in her heart, and in the end, Steve won.  He always did.  

She didn’t invite him in properly, she just turned on her heel and left the door open, knowing he would follow her into the living room.  

His boots squeaked from all the moisture on her hardwood floors.  He always liked to take his shoes off when he came to see her, but it was too late for that.  He found her sitting on the couch in the dark, but he could only see the outline of her curly hair.

“Why are you sitting here without any lights on?” He reached down and flicked on a tiny wicker lamp that was on the nearby bookshelf.  

“You ask a lot of questions,” she mumbled.

He pinched the front of his shirt to peel it from his body and flapped it a few times as if that would dry it out. “What did you want to talk to me about at the barbeque?”

“You’re soaking wet,” she got a good look at him in the light and suddenly felt bad that she’d made him wait out there.

“No kidding?” He snorted sarcastically. 

“You left some of your clothes here last time. I folded them in the third drawer,” she hugged the pillow.  “Get into something dry and then we can talk.”

He stripped down to his underwear right there in front of her, staring at her the entire time, as if he was worried she would bolt and try to hide from him. His patchwork of colorful tattoos was a jumble of loud expressions of his aggression and passion.  In honor of his nickname Taz, he had several Tasmanian devils doing various things including riding a motorcycle and one on the back of his arm giving onlookers the middle finger.  The ones on the front of his thighs were all self-done when he was just a kid, practicing his craft.  When he was a teenager, he used to tease her and call her “Asteroid” and just above his knee was an asteroid with a fire tail crashing toward a heart-shaped earth.  Besides the Seek and Destroy tattoo on the side of his throat, his skin was full of phrases, including the big “FTW” letters in an arc under his ribcage that stood for “Fuck the World”.   

He went into her bedroom and brought out a pair of jeans and a blue t-shirt with “Gary’s Plumbing” advertised on the front pocket.  He dressed in front of her as well, keeping a relentless eye.

“You really are ridiculous, you know that?” She put her chin in her palm and waited patiently for the show to be over.  

He flapped his arms out to his sides like a little kid waiting for approval on his outfit. “Okay, beautiful. I’m dry.  Time to spill the beans.”

“Can you sit down, please?” Her heart flopped in her chest as she considered the words that were about to come out of her mouth and the effect, they would have on him.

In Steve’s experience, when someone asked you to sit down before they told you something, it was always their attempt to soften the blow of bad news.  “Why can’t you just tell me now? You’re freaking me out, babe.”

“Steve,” She pleaded sternly.  “Trust me, I need you to sit down for this.”

—------

Eddie barely had time to greet you before you were pushing by him to get into the studio apartment.  You were hugging yourself, and anxiety had your stomach in knots.  

“I need to talk to you about something,” you gushed.  

Eddie stood at the door, keeping his back to you while he locked it.  He was shirtless, dark hair dripping down the pale muscles that flexed under his flesh.  

You looked around, trying to decide if you should sit or stand when your gaze landed on the painting you’d done for him after that first time you met.  He had it displayed front and center, right above his desk on the main navy-blue wall, as if it were the most important piece in the room.

You were pacing when he turned toward you, the wheels in your mind spinning.

When he got closer, you stepped further away, but he caught your wrist.  “Hey, why can’t you look at me? What’s going on?”  His voice was sterner than he’d intended it to be.  

“I can look at you,” you made yourself meet his stare to prove his point, but it was difficult. You felt like he could see right through you; all of your doubts, all of your fears and insecurities. 

“Sit,” he directed you over to the end of the bed, facing the small sitting area with where there was a couch and a coffee table in front of an old Zenith tv.

Next to you, the mattress sank under his weight, but in your mind, you were somewhere else.  

“So, is this it?” He released a heavy breath and started to play with one of the rings on his hand, pulling it up the finger and then pushing it back down to the knuckle.

“What do you mean?”

It was he who couldn’t look at you now.  “Are you breaking up with me?”

“No!” You blurted it, eyebrows pinching together in frustration with the way you couldn’t get the words out.  “That’s not…I didn’t mean…I just have a lot on my mind, that’s all.”

A rush of endorphins filled him with temporary relief while he waited for your next words.

You stretched your neck from side to side, swallowed hard, and then you told him.

You told him about John’s offer to run your own gallery in Chicago, the opportunity to have the artists loft you’d always dreamed of.  You picked at a piece of skin on the side of your thumb as you talked.

“But I said I needed to talk to you about it first,” you added.

Eddie got to his feet and went over to look out the window over the garage parking lot. “Sounds like a pretty sweet deal,” he mumbled.  

You weren’t breaking up with him, but you were, in fact, leaving him, which was much the same thing.

“Well, it’s complicated,” you said, watching as he went over to snatch his pack of smokes and lighter off of the coffee table.  

“Doesn’t sound complicated to me,” the cigarette bobbed between his pinched lips as he talked, cupping his hand to light the end.  “Sounds like you already know what your answer is.”

“I wouldn’t be talking to you about it if I’d already made my decision,” you countered.  “I want to know what you think.”

“Well,” he scoffed, exhaling a sharp plume of smoke down his chin. His eyes were much darker now, almost black.  “No one in their right mind would choose to stay in Hawkins, not with an opportunity like that on the table.” 

He almost added, “no loser biker boyfriend is worth it,” but decided it was not the right time to be self-deprecating. 

“But I like it here,” you mused. “More than I ever thought I would.”

“We’ll always be here, trust me,” he was trying to remain cool, but his exterior was cracking.  “So, this John guy has been stalking you or something? Getting you to do this painting for him was one thing, but now he’s waiting for you at your job to get you to what? ----Move to Chicago to be closer to him?”.

The smoke came out his nose that time and the muscles in his throat tensed.  He had a bad feeling about that guy before, but he wanted to respect your business ventures and give you space.

The change in Eddie’s demeanor made you wonder if that was the time for full transparency.  In the end, you’d made a promise not to have any secrets from each other and you wanted to keep your word.

“There was mention of that, yes,” you said cautiously, nibbling at your lip.  

“Mention of what, exactly?” Eddie scowled, cocking his head to the side.

“He said there were lots of places he wanted to take me to in the city,” you recited the words cautiously.

Eddie laughed and threw his head back; it was much more of a crazy, maniacal cackle.  “Oh shit, maybe I should pay him a little visit?  See if pretty boy wants to show me the city too.”

“Eddie.”

“What did you tell him?” He was fuming now, grinding his jaw as he stabbed the half-smoked cig into the ashtray.  

“I didn’t tell him anything,” you repeated, but in a much louder voice.  “I said I needed to talk to you, my boyfriend.”

“He knows you have a boyfriend, and he still pulled that shit?”  Eddie bit the tip of his tongue between his teeth with a grimace.  “That fucker needs to get rolled.”

“Eddie!” 

“No, I’m serious,” he was yelling now, but more about the situation than at you.  “I gave him a chance to be cool, to be a gentleman, and he fucked it up. I told you babe, dudes like that, with money, think they can take whatever they want.  Well, he can’t have you, unless it’s over my dead fucking body.”

“Well, it’s my fucking choice, and I don’t want to be with him, I want to be with you, asshole,” You shot to your feet.  

You’d realized something on your way over to his place and it was that you really did not want to leave Hawkins.  

Every rational bone in your body told you to take the offer and run, but the other bones in your body, the not so rational ones, told you that you’d finally found your family and a place you belonged.  

“Listen to me,” you grabbed him by the arm and made him turn, his hair flying over his shoulder.  “I don’t want to take the job, okay? I want to stay here.  With you.”

Eddie nostrils flared.  It was taking all of his strength not to go out looking for that pencil pushing dweeb Gregson.  But if he actually got his hands on him in the heat of the moment, he was afraid of what he would do.  

“I’ll move with you,” Eddie wet his lips, a new idea flashing behind his eyes.

“With me? To Chicago?”

“Yeah, no, I could make it work. Hire another manager here, another tow truck driver. Come back and check in a couple times a month,” he walked by you as he talked, plucking at his lower lip with thumb and forefinger. “I could get a job at a garage in Chicago, easy. There’s even a King’s chapter there. I could get Bones to patch me in.”

“What about Wayne? And Oliver?” 

“We’ll come back to visit,” Eddie nodded at the plan that was forming in his head.  “Steve and Robin and the kid love Chicago.  Maybe we can get a place with a spare bedroom for when they come up.”

“But what about—”

“I know this means a lot to you, this opportunity,” he cut you off.  “I know I’m a dirty, biker asshole, but I’m not going to be the reason you give up on a dream.” He went over to the dresser drawers and pulled out a Pabst Blue Ribbon shirt to pull on over his head.  The armholes were cut wide, and the collar was frayed.  

“But what if I don’t want to live in Chicago?”

Eddie squinted like he hadn’t heard you correctly.  “What now?”

You bit the inside of your cheek in contemplation.  “I’ve been thinking that I don’t really care about that world anymore, the art world I mean.”

“You don’t want to paint anymore?” He appeared hurt by this notion.  

“No, I do, I will always paint,” you corrected with a wave of your hand.  “But the retail side of it, the snobby clientele, the stress, I’m not sure it makes me happy anymore.  Not sure if it ever did.”

It was Eddie who took a seat that time, perching on the back of the sofa. You could tell he was trying to understand, but the information was coming at him a bit too fast.

“I don’t want to work at the Hammer for the rest of my life, either, but it’s okay for now,” you were working through the revelations as you spoke them aloud.  “I have a friend who is starting her own greeting card company, and she wants me to do some artwork for her.  Little by little, I can make a living while still doing what I love.”

Eddie’s thoughts drifted back to the farmhouse, and how much he felt like it fit the both of you.  

“Are you telling me you chose Hawkins? Really?”

You went over to situate your hips between his knees and brushed his bangs off his forehead.  “No, I’m saying I choose you, asshole,” a smile tugged the side of your mouth up.  “Hawkins is a bonus, yes, but I will always choose you.”

Foreheads met then, and Eddie forced out a long-held breath from between tight lips.  “I don’t want you to wake up one day and realize you made a mistake.”

“The only thing I regret is that I didn’t get to jump your bones in high school.”

He chuckled, repeating what he’d asked at the barbeque earlier.  “Well, what about now?”

In the back of his mind he was thinking, “that John Gregson is still a dead man,” but he kept it to himself.

—----

Steve flopped down next to Astrid on the fluffy, tan sofa so violently it was as if he’d been thrown there by a force of nature.  He scooted closer and pawed at her hand so that she would intertwine her fingers with his.  He was reminded of all of those times as a teenager when he would get hurt on purpose just so she would patch him up.  She was a couple years older and wanted nothing to do with him back then, but nevertheless he melted under the tender touch of her attention every time.  

“I’m all ears,” he prodded eagerly when she did not speak right away.  

Keeping Steve’s hand with hers, Astrid turned to face him and tucked her bare feet underneath her, adjusting the stretch length of her dress.  

Steve watched the way her long hair fell across her neck and ample cleavage. 

“Okay,” she cleared her throat. “What I need to tell you is—”

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, perpetually distracted.

“Steve?”

“Sorry, go ahead.”

Another big inhale and then: “These past few weeks, I could tell something was…off.  I thought it was early menopause because I missed my period.”

Steve stared blankly, trying not to get turned on watching her lips move.  

She let her gaze fall to their hands clasped on Steve’s knee, wondering if any of it was real, or if she was still dreaming. 

“Is it cancer?”  He dared to ask, squeezing her hand.  “Because I’m not going to let anything happen to you.  I’ll find the best doctor at gunpoint if I have to.”   

“Steve!” 

“What? You’re making me crazy! Tell me everything's okay?”

“I’m not dying, Steve.”

“Well then what is it? I’ve been going out of my mind and here you are—”

“I’m pregnant.”

His body had been moving, vibrating even, but it all came to a complete halt at that.  

As if he’d been flash-frozen on the spot.

A mannequin of himself; mouth open, one eyebrow up. 

He shook his head, confused.  “Hold on, what? But I thought you said that you—”

She played with the hem of her shawl.  “I was told it was impossible.  I was told it would take a miracle.”

“Wait a minute, so—” he gulped and then leaned forward to search her face, one arm scooping behind her.  Her eyes were glossy again, on the verge of another wellspring.  

“Is it m-my…is it my baby?” He stammered.

She could only nod, chin quivering as more tears gathered at her lash line only to race down her cheeks once she blinked.  

Steve lost it then too, sucking in air before he choked on his own emotions.  He brought her hand to his chest and held it there.  “My baby,” he gasped, eyes flooding.  “You’re having my baby.  We’re having a baby.”

“Yeah,” she hiccuped and sniffed. “You’re not upset?”

“Upset? Why would I be upset? How could you even think that?” He was deeply offended that she would question his reaction to something he’d wanted his whole life with her, specifically.

He was wiping her tears away with his thumbs as she spoke.  “This is far from convenient, Steve. The way we both live our lives, we never planned for this. We barely have two pennies to rub together between us and—”

“Shhhh,” he kissed her nose and her eyelids and her mouth. “Money comes and goes, sweetheart.  It doesn’t matter, nothing matters, but you and this baby.  Our baby.”

Our baby.  He couldn’t stop saying it.  

He hadn’t known about Oliver until a few days before he was born, and he always felt robbed of all that time in the womb when he could’ve bonded with his son.  Tina had been a three-day fling at a music festival, and he never had any intention of seeing her again.  He’d been prepared to do the right thing though, to be a family even if it killed him, but then Tina just handed him a baby boy a week old and drove away, as if he knew what the fuck he was doing.  

Robin had been in the car waiting for him when it happened.  She saw him standing there in the street holding that screaming baby in a blanket and right then and there, a mother was born.  

He put his hand on Astrid’s stomach, gently.  “Can I feel it move yet? The baby?”

She laughed into her hand as she wiped her nose.  “I’m barely seven weeks along, silly.” 

He curled down like he always did when he put his head in her lap, but instead he placed his ear on her stomach, massaging her thigh with his hand. “I don’t think you can hear me, little one, but daddy has loved your mother his whole life and I love you very much.”

His next words were to Astrid; a murmur into the meat of her. “Will you let me love you now? The way I’ve always wanted to? Will you stay with me?”

She scratched her fingers through his hair, and then held his head there when his arms went around her waist. They stayed like that for a long while.

A bit later, in bed with her head on his chest, he was half asleep when she whispered: “You know that twins run in my family, right?”

—------

“A geriatric pregnancy,” Steve told you from across the bar when you were both back at work the next evening to the tune of Connection by Elastica. 

You made a face while you put some limes and shots of tequila on your tray.  

“That’s what they call it, I guess, when a woman is over 35,” he shrugged.  “A geriatric pregnancy.  So, I’m forcing her to take it easy.”

He was letting you and Shana in on the good news, and he’d been grinning from ear to ear for so long, his cheeks hurt.  His gold incisor caught the red lights like it had a ruby in it.  He’d even been smiling in his sleep, somehow, as Astrid noticed when she got up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom. 

“I’m so happy for you,” you mirrored his enthusiasm.  “Does Eddie know? Wayne?”

“Not yet,” he made a loose fist and cracked his knuckles. “We wanted to tell Uncle together.  I wasn’t supposed to tell anyone, but I couldn’t wait,” he added sheepishly. “She knows I can’t keep a secret like that.”

“I’ll wait and let you give Eddie the news,” you told him.  “I think he’d rather hear it from you.”

“Where is that War Machine?” Steve looked around, adjusting his sunglasses on his head.  “I owe him a drink.”

“That’s a good question,” you glanced at the clock that was up by the wall-mounted tv.  “He said he was going to stop by, but that was almost two hours ago.”  It didn’t concern you too much because your boyfriend was a busy guy, and last-minute things were always popping up at the shop.  

It was on your to-do list to call John on your break and let him know you were turning down his offer.  The more you thought about it, the more you wondered if he’d planned to hire you on merit, or if he just wanted to get into your pants.  When you thought about the possibility of the latter, it made your blood pressure spike.  

You delivered a round of drinks to a table, and on your way back to the bar, there was a man in a suit coming through the door, holding a briefcase.  

Steve gave him a nod when they made eye contact, but he didn’t ask to check his ID because the man had a graying hairline and was possibly mid-fifties at the least.  He was fit though, and had a very confident demeanor about him.  He looked like he was there to do business.  

“My name is Saul,” he introduced himself to Steve with a handshake and Steve stood up from his stool to be eye level with him.  “I’m looking for Steve Harrington.”

“You found him,” Steve rolled his neck, wondering what he could possibly want from him.  

Saul gave a stiff smile that did not reach his eyes. 

By then you were at the bar, acting like you were busy so that you could eavesdrop.

“What’s this about?” Steve pushed the sleeves of his flannel up to his elbows, exposing his tattoos.  

“Well, it would behoove you to give me a moment of your time,” he moved one side of his suit jacket back to shove his hand in his pocket, rocking back on his heels.  

“I have some business to discuss with you on behalf of Charlene Gregson.”

—------

John Gregson had no idea he was being followed.

He vaguely registered the sound of the loud pipes from the motorcycles rolling up to Margie’s diner, but he was having a late lunch with a business associate and didn’t pay much attention to it.  He preferred white tablecloth lunch meetings, but in Hawkins there weren’t many choices.  Their BLT was unbeatable though, as was the chocolate cream pie.  He’d have to calculate them both into his low-carb diet and spend extra time at the gym in the morning.  

He had his back to the door, making notes in his date book as the man across from him spoke over the sound of clattering dishes and silverware.  

He felt the shadows pass over the table, but he figured it was a group on the way to sit at a booth further down.  

But they came to a halt and loomed there, smelling of leather and tobacco.

John glanced over the top of his reading glasses at his companion first and saw that the color had drained from his face.  

There were four members of the Coffin Kings glaring down at them.  

Eddie frowned at the man with John and jerked his thumb to the side.  “Get up,” he said.  “Find somewhere else to be, I need to talk to your friend here.”

Devlin sank into the booth behind John while Van stood across the aisle flipping his butterfly knife, and Lucas stayed next to Eddie.

“Now, hold on just a—” John began to protest, about to get to his feet, but Lucas clapped a hand onto his shoulder and pushed him back down with calm, steady force.

His companion’s eyes darted from Eddie to John a few times before he gathered his things in a rush, tucking all of his papers under his arm, and shimmied past Van while holding his breath.  It was clear he had no intention of going to wait at another table, he was down the row of booths and out the front door in a flash.

With a heavy sigh, Eddie sank into the seat across from John, wallet chain dragging on the vinyl as he settled in, stretching his arms wide along the back of the bench.  

Lucas turned his back on the two but stood in the same spot, feet planted wide, hands in his pockets, blocking John from leaving.

With a resolute nod, John put his pen down.  “Have we met? I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure—”

“Cut the crap, man,” Eddie huffed with a lazy grin and hooded eyes.  “You know exactly who I am.”

John took his glasses off and tucked them inside his jacket pocket.  “Fair enough. How can I help you?”

Eddie plucked a pack of smokes out of the front pocket of his cut and motioned for Devlin to toss him a lighter.

“This is a no smoking section,” John reminded him, pointing to the sign on the wall with a red line through a cigarette.

Eddie stared at him as he lit the end and sucked in his cheeks until the cherry glowed orange. 

He waited until after a generous exhale to speak, directing the smoke into John’s leftover pie.  

“You see, John—can I call you John? I’ve been really…patient when it comes to this infatuation you have with my girl.  More patient than you deserve, I think.”

John clicked his tongue.  “Now, you misunderstand me, I—”

“I haven’t misunderstood shit,” Eddie scoffed a laugh. 

The waitress came over, and John was sure she was going to tell him to put his cigarette out, but instead she just gave him the most flirtatious smile.  “You want some coffee, hun? You hungry?”

Eddie finished taking another drag and winked at her.  “Just coffee for me, darlin’,” and then he gestured to the other Coffin Kings. “Get these boys whatever they want and wrap it up to go.  It’s on John’s tab.”

Once she was gone, Eddie continued.  “Here’s what’s gonna happen, slick,” he reached over to tap the ash out on John’s plate.  “Once she finishes this painting, you’re gonna to pay her more than what you initially offered, and then you’re never going to see her or talk to her ever again.  Comprendo?”

John used the back of his fingers to push the plate a few inches away, dabbing the sides of his mouth with his napkin.  “My offer for her to run my gallery in Chicago had no devious intentions, I assure you.  I genuinely believe she is that talented.”

Eddie ground his teeth, jaw muscles bulging.  “She’s beyond talented, you got that right, but she doesn’t want to work for you.  You’re a creep.  Throwing money and big promises around to get what you want.  I know your type.”

“My type?” 

“Has your wife ever mentioned me?” Eddie inquired, exhaling into John’s face.

He watched John visibly go rigid.  

Rhonda set Eddie’s coffee cup on a saucer down in front of him with extra creamer and poured him a steaming cup.

John cleared his throat.  “I think it would be in her best interest—”

“You don’t know what’s best for her,” Eddie bit.  “Who are you, her fucking dad?”

He’d said it a bit too loud and a few people from other tables craned their necks to follow the sound.  

Eddie leaned forward, whispering tensely.  “I don’t think I have to tell you that I have friends in low places. People who will do what I say at the drop of a hat.  You think you can hide behind your money?  You’re wrong.  The people who pump your gas and make your food and clean your bathroom?  They’re all with me. You’ll be looking over your shoulder for the rest of your life.  If you fuck with me on this, if you seek my girl out after I’ve told you not to?  Well, then, I hope you like dentures sweetheart because I’m gonna pull your perfect, pearly teeth out one by one.”

By the time he was done, his hand had curled into a fist on the table.  He spread the ringed fingers out wide and then made the fist again, making John look at it.

Eddie snubbed out his smoke in John’s pie with a sizzle and then settled back in his seat, relaxing his shoulders.  He cocked an eyebrow up.  “Are we good?”

John sat back as well.  “We’re good,” he acknowledged stiffly, adjusting his suit jacket.

Eddie slapped the table and gave John a wink.  “Well, this was fun,” he chuckled.  “We should catch up more often.”

He took a quick gulp of his coffee and slid out of the booth.  

He stopped to bend over and whisper, “don’t forget to tip well, slick,” in John’s ear on his way out.  

—-------

By the time Eddie showed up at the Velvet Hammer, swatting away plumes of second-hand smoke as he went, everyone knew that Steve was going to be a dad again.  Even the new customers who’d barely just walked in the door that evening.  

Astrid had prepared for this.

One of the many complicated reasons she’d waited more than a week to tell him was because she’d known that, if he knew, he’d be announcing it to everyone he passed by on the street.

Steve jumped from his stool and hugged Eddie.  “I’ve got great news, man,” he clapped Eddie a few times on the arm, over the thick leather jacket he had on.  

Eddie had been on his way across the room to you when his friend stopped him, so the sudden affection took him off guard.  “I like good news,” he caught your eye over Steve’s shoulder and smirked.  

Steve let him know that he was going to be a dad again, which Eddie assumed would happen sooner than later, but he was surprised and delighted to know that Astrid was the mom.  They both knew that she’d been told it would be nearly impossible for her to conceive.  

Steve leaned in.  “This proves it, man, I have a magic dick.”

“Sure you do,” Eddie scoffed, patting Steve on the cheek a few times.  “Only took you 15 years.”

Before you could greet him, Eddie was already in front of you, pulling you flush to his body.  He started to walk and you took backwards steps to stay with him.  “Can you take your break right now?”

“I wasn’t going to for another hour but—”

“I need to talk to you,” he hushed.  

“Um, okay, well,” you glanced over at Shana and she waved you off.  

His mouth found yours the second you were obscured in the dark hallway.  You figured he’d be escorting you out to the alley where you usually took your breaks with him so he could smoke, but this time, he pulled you into one of the two unisex bathrooms and locked it behind him. The bulbs inside were red, and it set an eerie, bloodwashed glow.

“This place sees a lot of action,” you mumbled into his kiss as he worked your skirt up so that he could take a handful of the meat of your ass.  “I like to call it Steve’s Office.”

Before you knew what was happening, he was hoisting you up onto the sink counter with a grunt.  Your thighs and bum were fully exposed now, covered in fishnet stockings, and one of his hands held your face while the other rubbed a knuckle over the heat between your legs.  Your panties and stockings were preventing him from going further, but not for long.  

You were about to protest, to say you had to get back to work, or to remind him how many women Steve had probably railed in that very spot, but

Fuck

And just when you softened with a shaky moan, he kissed a trail down your jaw and throat, with a few nibbles in between.

You whimpered, spreading your legs further apart, Doc Marten booted feet locking onto his thighs to keep him close.

“I have something..” smooch “...that I need…” smooch “...to ask you…” smooch

“Right now?” You palmed his hard length over his denim and then went to work at undoing his belt buckle. “We only have 10 minutes.”

He leaned back, letting his cherry bitten lips hover there at eye level.  His bangs were getting too long, he needed a trim, and you brushed them to the side, off of his eyebrows. 

“Do you want to move in with me?”

You blinked a few times. “Into your apartment?”

“No, no,” eager lips found your mouth again and his thumb rubbed circles over the taut nub of your nipple through your shirt.  “The big farmhouse down on Marigold Road.  I pointed it out once when we drove by.”

You stopped.  “The old Ferguson place? Aren’t there people already living there?”

“Not anymore,” he could feel your arousal soaking through your underwear and he hissed, grinding his erection against your thigh. “I want to buy it. For us.”

In your desperation, you reached down and clawed at the section of black fishnet that was keeping him from you, ripping a little further down your thigh than you’d intended to.

Eddie kissed down the front of you on the way to his knees, and then your underwear was pulled to one side and his tongue was on your swollen clit, rolling in circles there.  

You dug your fingers into his hair with one hand and supported yourself on the ledge with the other.  He sucked a few times, and then his tongue went inside of you, and you bit your lip, squirming to try and repress a scream.  

“That is a big step,” you gasped. “Moving in together.”

For the longest time, you couldn’t see yourself living with anyone other than a roommate ever again.

He hummed on your now soaked cunt and then kitten licked it a few times.  “I’m ready. Are you?”

You didn’t respond at first because your eyes were rolling back in your head, so he popped off to get to his feet, his chin glistening.  He spread your thighs further apart to make room for his hips and undid his zipper.

His pupils bloomed wide as he searched your lustful eyes, insecurities making his heart rate quicken.  “Are you not ready? I mean, do you not want that? Is it too soo—”

But then you silenced him with your mouth, lapping up your juices from his chin, moving away a strand of his hair that had stuck there. “I want to see the inside. Could we go look at it together?”

“Yeah we can,” he pushed his boxers down and rubbed the tip of his leaking cock along your slit. “I’ll call the real estate dude in the morning.”

You clung to his neck, jaw going slack as he sank in. “I’ll have to check with Charlie.”

He chucked into the kiss at you mentioning your cat, and then he was stretching you out, easing his way in, aching to be one with you.

“Deeper…more,” you whimpered, and then you each let out a muffled cry when he filled you to the hilt, flush inside of your pulsing heat.

He rested his forehead on yours and began to work his hips, thrusting deep and retreating with a curl of his hips so that you could feel every vein, every ridge, but then you were clenching around him, and he sped up with a curse, a thumb working at your clit.

“This…fuck, I’m going to cum so hard inside of you,” he admitted with a huff.  His belt buckle clinked against his zipper with every thrust.  “You want that? You want all of me?”

“Fuck, Eddie, yes,” You whined, clinging to him as stars exploded behind your eyes. 

His strong fingers dug into your flesh to hold your legs in place, and after a few more shaking pumps, he was spilling inside of you, each of you a moaning mess of “I love yous”, clawing at the other to be closer.  

Someone banged on the door just as the two of you were catching your breath and Eddie was still inside of you.

“Get lost!” Eddie yelled, not caring if it was a customer.

“Are you two having a tea party in there? Cabbage Patch meeting perhaps?” 

It was Steve, and then you could hear his ruckus laughter as he banged another few times just to be cheeky.

You adjusted your underwear back into place, and Eddie fastened his jeans before he helped you down off the counter.  You pulled your skirt down and checked yourself in the mirror.

Yikes.

The rip down your inner thigh was painfully obvious.  You wondered if shredding them in a few more places would make it more of “a look”, but then realized that the lighting in the Hammer was not great, and it wasn’t unheard of for someone to accidentally rip their stockings at work.  

But what about when Eddie’s seed started to drip down your leg?

“You go,” you shooed him away as he stood there adjusting the collar of his jacket, waiting for you. “I need to pee.”

He was looking at himself in the mirror, rubbing lipstick off his cheek, but then he turned just before grabbing for the door.  “If you don’t want to, you know, live together right away, I get it.  But with Katie moving in with Robin and all, I figured—”

“You figured we could be roommates?” 

He smirked, giving a bashful shrug.  “A little more than that, maybe.  Roommates with benefits.”

“Yeah?” You sank against his chest, forever helpless to his gravitational pull.  “What kind of benefits?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” he rubbed the sides of your arms with his calloused hands. “I’ll make you pancakes.”

“You think you can make pancakes?” 

“Baby, I've told you before, you ain’t seen nothing yet.”

—-------

“WAYNE!”

Uncle entered the Hammer and everyone screamed his name like he was Norm in an episode of Cheers.

It had been a while since he dropped by unannounced, and he looked better than ever.

Still much thinner than he had been the year before, and it was hard for him to catch his breath sometimes, but his eyes were bright, and he wore a soft smile more often than not.  

Maybe the chemo was working? Maybe there was hope?

Devlin had been sitting on the stool at the bar next to Eddie, but Eddie was quick to tell him to take a hike when Wayne showed up.

“What did the doctor say?” He asked as his uncle straddled the stool and got comfortable.  He was in a green and white plaid work shirt and had decided to leave his Coffin Kings leather at home.  

Wayne gave a single nod and patted around for his smokes out of habit, even though he’d given it up when he started treatment.  “Just heard Steve's gonna be a dad again. He better treat her right, that's all I can say." It was obvious he was damn near giddy at the thought, Eddie could see it in the way a smile kept tugging at the sides of his mouth. "I’m sick of talking about doctors and my goddamn condition. Want to forget about it for a night.”

Eddie respected that, and tapped the bar to order him one of those non-alcoholic beers that they kept cold specifically for Wayne and one other regular patron.  

You barely had a chance to give Wayne a shoulder squeeze when Robin burst in through the door, frantically scanning the crowd.  There was a dancer on the backstage, working her way down the poll, and Steve had gone over to remind a few rowdy customers to behave themselves.  Robin rushed over and met him halfway, in front of the glowing jukebox.

He found no comfort in the way she looked like she’d been crying.

“What’s going on?” Felt like his heart literally stopped beating in his chest. “Are you okay?”

“The spare key,” she held her palm out.  “You used it last time and now I’m locked out of the house.”

He felt around in his back pocket.  “Where are your regular keys?”

She rolled her eyes, bouncing in frustration. “I lost them somewhere, okay? At work maybe, I’m not sure, but Oliver just threw a fit, I’m on my period, and we’re all just in a really bad mood and want to go home.”

“Alright, alright, here take my key,” he wrestled it off the metal ring to hand it to her.  “Just remember to leave the back door unlocked for me.  Is Oliver in the car?”

“No, he’s at Katie’s place with her, I needed to take a drive alone so that I could scream,” she snatched the key from him.

“Shit, you had me worried for a second.”

“Sorry,” admittedly, she felt like she was overreacting to something so small and fixable, but more likely her tears were from an accumulation of things.  Once the panic spike subsided, her eyes landed on half of a white envelope peeking out of the pocket of his Coffin Kings leather, right above his TAZ insignia.  She always teased him and said his official nickname should’ve been Dingus.

“What’s this?” It looked like it had some official lettering in the corner, and she plucked it out to look closer.

They made their way back to the front so he could keep an eye on the door, and she frowned at the name of a law office in the corner. 

“I don’t know, I haven’t opened it yet,” he shrugged.  “Some douchey lawyer brought it by, said it was from Charlene.  It was busy when he came in, so he gave me that to read and told me to call him in the morning.”

“Fucking Charlene?” She balked.  “What, is she suing you for not wanting to be her boyfriend?”  

“I haven’t had time to open in, but it wouldn’t surprise me.”

A group of people came in, and two looked like they were 16, so Steve carded them.  

Robin ripped the top of the envelope open. You stepped in front of her on your way to a table, and the two of you collided.

You said a quick apology and were about to ask if she wanted a drink, when Shana shouted across the bar to tell Robin the phone was for her.

“It’s your boss from the motel,” Shana continued, holding her hand over the bottom half of the receiver.

Robin gave a heavy, exasperated sigh and pinched the bridge of her nose.  “She’s going to ask me to work a double shift tomorrow, I just know it.”

She shoved the paperwork at you that she’d just unfolded, but not yet read.  “Hold this for me? Be right back.”

“Oh—okay,” you had the paperwork pressed flat to your chest as you made your way over to stand at Eddie’s shoulder.  He was talking to Wayne, but he reached back and squeezed your thigh in greeting.  

You hadn’t meant to look, to eavesdrop on their private business.

But once glance was all it took

For you to be fully invested

Charlene’s name was the first thing to catch your eye

And then, The Velvet Hammer

You took a few long blinks, unsure if what you were looking at was real.

You mouthed a few of the words quietly just to make sure you were reading them correctly.

The way you froze made Eddie curious, and he turned his head to see what you were doing.

“What’s up babe? What is that?”

“It’s, uh—” you stammered.  “It’s Steve’s.  You’re never going to believe this, but um—”

“Can I see it?” 

He tried to meet your eyes as he took it from you, but you couldn’t seem to look away from the words on the paper.  Your mind was reeling.

Robin returned just as Eddie held the papers out in front of him, and she steadied herself with a hand on his back to read over his shoulder.

Steve meandered over; his curiosity officially piqued at what you were all huddled together about.  

“What’s it say?”  He had a smoke bobbing between his lips and his hands in his pockets.  “Did I win the lottery or somethin’?”

He chuckled, but then you all turned to him in unison, unblinking, mouths agape.

“Yeah man,” a smile curled on Eddie’s lips.  “Actually, you kinda did.”

—------

Charlene was on the plane to Hawaii when she read the newspaper article.

A glass of first-class champagne and a window to her right, an empty aisle seat to her left.  

There he was, right on the front page of The Hawkins Post: 

Steve.

In a bigger city, a business changing hands could fly under the radar, but in a small town, it was newsworthy when a local biker and bouncer becomes a business owner overnight.

A Cinderella story, the reporter called it.

The cover photo was of him out on the sidewalk, standing next to the red door entrance to the Velvet Hammer.  Shana was in the photo with him, as were Robin, Jackie, Erika, and you.  

Not pictured was Eddie Munson, whom the article mentioned Steve had chosen to take on as a partner.

The article talked about their plans for the Hammer, including bringing in a tattoo studio to the vacant storage space next door.  

She ran her finger over his face on the newsprint.

It wasn’t until the end of the article that she got the wind knocked out of her:

“Steve and his longtime partner, Astrid Bautista, are expecting their first child together in the spring.”

She hadn’t expected that.

She had to look away and take a generous gulp of champagne.  

Her eyes got a little wet and her vision blurred, but she read it again.

“Did you miss me?” Billy sank into the seat next to her with his sunglasses on and a white shirt unbuttoned almost to the waist of his jeans. He smiled around the pink gum he was chewing and craned his neck to see what she was reading, but she folded the paper hastily and turned it over.

She didn’t answer him, she just stared out the window over the clouds and tried to forget she ever felt a thing.  

------

authors note: wow, we did it. This is my first fic series to finish ever 😭 If you've made it this far, you know how much this story and the characters have evolved since those first couple chapters. If this were an actual novel, I'd go back and make it all sync up, give it more continuity, and reveal nicknames like War Machine and Taz earlier in the game. But the cool thing about posting this way for a fandom is that you, the reader, are able to see in real time how the characters develop a mind of their own and take over the story in a way not even the writer can predict. In this case specifically, you can also see how I went from having no idea how to write a reader insert fic to becoming more and more comfortable with it.

I never had any intention of making Charlene a villain. She was literally based off of the wealthy woman in the Bruce Springsteen video for his song I'm on Fire. Just a gal who had a crush on her mechanic. Some of you voiced that you wished Charlene could get killed, or hurt somehow, and for those of you, you can trust that she is hurting. Knowing that Steve will be having a family with someone else is a deep wound.

I've had several requests for a separate biker Steve story with a new reader, and until two chapters ago, I fully intended to follow through on that. But the more I wrote him with Astrid, the more I felt it was wrong to keep them apart. If you are a fan of their love story, I highly recommend visiting THIS masterlist from @texasblues who created Astrid's character. But I do plan to bring a slightly different biker Steve back in a new au, stay tuned 🥰

This of course, is not the end. I plan to drop an epilogue on you all when you least expect it, and it will take place a year or two after the events here. If you are a friend of mine, you will laugh at this because whenever I say I'm going to write an epilogue, I never do. But this time I mean it.

I can't express in words how much your comments, asks, and messages about this story have meant, and will always mean to me. I was living through one of the darkest years of my life when I joined tumblr back in April and started writing this fic, and you all have held me together, whether you realize it or not. I love you and am deeply grateful for you all.

Taglist: @notsobubblybaby @unfocused81 @aysheashea @etherealglimmer@manicmagicmayhem @dream-a-little-nightmare@chaoticgood-munson @emxcast @rhirojo @bexreadstoomuch @micheledawn1975 @falling-solar-system@secretdryrose

@whatwedontdointheshadows @miarosso @seventhlevelofhell @corrodedcoffincumslut @lofaewrites @goldyghoul @chloe-6123 @kelsiegrin @chelebelletx @stylesxmunson @kurdtbean@dandelionnfluff @clincallyonline17 @tlclick73 @eddiemunson95 @sidthedollface2 @hideoutside @truffleshuffle12 @tenthmoon @texasblues@emilyslutface@mmunson86@onegirlmanytales@laylaloves-ed@dashingdeb16@eddiiiieeee @ick90 @dashingdeb16 @polyestermonster @trixyvixx @atomickaratel8dy @kiyastrf94 @allthingsjoeq @eddiesxangel @razzieth @corrodeddeadlydoll @erinekc @angietherose @sllooney @writinginthetwilight @moonbeamsandmayhem @brianamunson92 @joannamuns9n @bellalillyrose @alba8688 @chevelle724

[jamneuromain]

For your Lloyd and Secretary one, what if someone who works closely with Brewer finds out about how he died and seeks out for vengeance? And how about he kidnaps and enslaves Secretary and Lloyd has to get her back? But the Secretary thinks that Lloyd would just replace her, even if she had developed some feelings for Lloyd, she still believed that he would leave her. But Lloyd finds her.

Hi nonnies! Sorry for taking so long to write :3

I love your ideas and I present to you--

Out for Blood

Lloyd Hansen x You

Warning: Mob AU, Mob!Lloyd, Secretary!Reader (Driver!Denny Carmicheal), Graphic Depiction of Blood and Violence (I guess Lloyd is a warning of his own?), Reader has hemophobia (fear of blood), a lot of cursing.

W/C: ~5k

Summary: You were captured by a rival gang. Would Lloyd come and save you?

A/N: This is a sequel to A Whiff of Blood, Thank you for all your love to Mob!Lloyd<333

For the record, your hemophobia is directed to blood coming from other people, not your own. You wouldn’t faint or puke if you had a papercut, but you would (and did) puke when Lloyd showed up at your door a few weeks ago, littered with blood and cuts.

Tasting the faint tang of rust and salt from the cut inside your cheek, your tongue inevitably touches the wound in your mouth.

Ouch, it stings.

An almost ridiculous - but somewhat fits the situation you are facing - idea comes to mind.

You hope Lloyd could pay for your dental care if your tooth gets knocked out.

In a dark humid stinky cell, you are obligated to keep yourself from fainting.

How long is it since you’ve been captured? An hour? Two?

You don’t know. Not that the concrete walls give any clues as to where you are and when is it.

Your head is dizzy, and somewhere on the back of your head is throbbing, possibly the spot where someone knocks your head with a baseball bat or a heavy club.

-who the heck still uses a club to beat the shit out of their victims to issue a kidnapping these days? Aren’t they worried about possible brain injuries?

Your hands and feet are tied to a plain wooden chair with zip ties, not something you can get out of without tools and time. Knowing that they kidnapped you and took you to this place, instead of dumping you down the pier with a large stone tied to your feet? You’ve got time, some of them at least. They want something from you, hence the reason why you are alive.

The problem is to rescue yourself before they realize nothing is coming out of your mouth.

So, the real question is, how much time do you have?

Dull thuds of footsteps approach you. After some screeching from the iron bars and the clang of the lock opened by a key, that is supposed to be the cell gate’s composition, you assume, for you are forced in another direction having been tied to the chair, another screeching sound, and the door swings open, entering two men.

They stand before you, one has his hands on his hips, the other crossing his arm.

Think. Your mind goes one hundred miles per hour. Think. Sometimes Lloyd keeps his captives alive, but only when his men are wearing masks. But these two are showing their faces in broad daylight – nightlight, to be precise, since you left the office around 7:30 pm, and later got a smack in the head after having picked up the dry cleaning for Lloyd.

You watched their faces closely. The first man who appears before you is shorter than the other, it is difficult to tell his height when you are sitting on a chair, but you assume he is approximately your height (which is definitely short for an average man), medium build – again, it is hard to tell with his jacket on, you have to conduct most of your analysis base on guesswork. Something about his face looks familiar, however, you cannot pinpoint who or what, since as a secretary, you meet a lot of people daily.

The other guy, the taller one and the more muscular one, doesn’t strike you as someone you know in the past. A hint of tattoo peeks on the back of his hand, a sharp edge with the color of tattoo ink. The beard covers half his face, and that he’s bald, in contrast to his wild facial hair.

“Well, well, well.” The first one smirks, “If it isn’t Lloyd’s pretty thing in our hands.”

Think. They haven’t killed you yet, but they are planning to. Think of something smart. To stall. Or to gather enough information so that Lloyd will know who to revenge on if you are dead.

The hair on the back of your neck practically stands when the word “dead” crosses your mind for a split second.

You cannot panic. Not now. Think.

“You can drop an invitation to my mailbox, y’know? If you wanna talk.” You look up at them. A small smile raises the corner of your lips, but you are not smiling, not really, because your sharp eyes are taking in the minor changes in their expressions.

The first one raises his eyebrows, somewhat surprised, while the second one remains stoic.

“Impressive.” The man compliments, “Thought you would thrash and kick, but I guess you have seen too much of this - ” He gestures to your tied-up position, “working for Lloyd, eh?”

You neither confirm nor deny, yet, you make an attempt at deciphering his intentions, “What is it with this time?” God, you sound like you have been kidnapped twice a week since you got the secretary job. You raise your eyebrows as he does, “Threats to cooperate? Info about his latest business? Or are you two with the FBI?”

They both glance at each other when you mention the FBI.

Good news, they are not cops.

Bad news, they are not cops, which means they are more likely to kill you.

“Hey, you.” You turn your head to the silent bulk of beard, “Didn’t I see you tattling to your badge buddy two weeks ago? Is it what this is about? That I see you tipped off the cops?”

Of course, you haven’t seen the second man tattling to the cops. You don’t know him. But considering the tension ever since you pose the possibility that they are with the police and law enforcement, it is not a bad way to start an argument between the two of them.

That is, hopefully, there are only two that initiated your kidnapping. The plan of brewing a feud among the kidnappers would be more difficult to implement if there’s another person involved.

Under the first man’s continuous stare, the second man huffs out a grunt, grabs your hair in one hand, and lands a blow into your stomach with the other.

“Cука.” He grumbles, stepping back to where he was standing.

If it weren’t for the pain in your stomach, as the blow on your stomach feels like your guts have cracked into four pieces, you would most absolutely jump up from the chair that has you tied, and clap, for he has bared his identity before you, stripping clean.

Thank fuck you know a few curse words in Russian, one of them being “cука”, which means “bitch”.

Russian mob it is.

You know about the Russian mob in LA. A few weeks ago, Lloyd teamed up with one of his business partners to sell illegal substances (a nice way of putting it) and gradually took up the Russian turf. He got shot and was nearly killed after that, when the Russians ambushed him in the clinic he used to go, killing his doctor and one of his men. Lloyd himself barely got out alive and took shelter in your apartment.

Today, around 7 pm, Lloyd took his driver Denny and two of his henchmen to a club he owned to meet the Russians to settle for a truce. As his secretary, you know that he usually conducts his mob business there, instead of in the building where you work. So, you finished up the paperwork and called it a night, while ordering some pizza since cooking would take an additional one hour and a half.

You were on your way home, stopping by on the side of the curb to pick up Lloyd’s dry cleaning when you lost consciousness after a hit in the head.

Oh crap, you would have to send those clothes to the dry cleaning again.

Focus. You take a deep breath, clearing the irrelevant thoughts from your mind. Think smart. How could you subtly prove yourself worthy to them?

“Fine.” You huff out, “You are not working with a badge buddy, I get it.” Adding some sarcasm to the mix, you twitch the muscles on your face, your tone as despising as your expression, “I’m sure what I’ve seen with my own eyes is purely some illusion-voodoo shit.”

Great. Now you sound like Lloyd fucking Hansen.

The first man clears his throat, effectively silencing the grumbling Russian guy.

“Quite a temper.” He pulls a chair from the corner of the cell, sitting in front of you, pointing at himself, then back at you, “You know, we could’ve been friends, you and I.”

“Oh yeah?” You quirk your brow, “What’s stopping ya’? Enlighten me.”

Shit. Too Lloyd.

You are somewhat surprised when he responds per your ask, “If you insist…”

Yeah well, you weren’t exactly insisting (or interested, for that matter, you couldn’t care less). Nevertheless, you nod for him to continue.

“Suza Brewer. Rings a bell?” He smiles, but the friendliness is nowhere to be seen.

Of course, the name Suza Brewer rings a bell. Unfortunately, it’s the bad kind of bell.

Brewer had threatened to have you to himself, and asked Lloyd – not in a nice way – to balance between their deal and you.

… since you are alive and breathing and your limbs are still intact, without a doubt, Lloyd chose you, his faithful employee over the dumb biker Brewer, and fed Brewer to the fishes. You had speculated that there were crocodiles underwater where he disposed of the bodies, because damn, Lloyd’s body-dumping was never found by police forces, or any other people, for that matter, and now you are equally tempted to throw this kidnapper beneath the Westside Pier too.

If only you weren’t tied up like a lamb for slaughter.

“Vaguely.” You pretend to think, tilting your head to the side, even though the back of your shirt is soaked with your cold sweat, “Is he in trouble?”

Hell, Brewer is more than “in trouble”. He’s more like “in crocodile”. His body parts could be swimming along with those hideous beasts, travelling hundreds of miles apart from each other, as you speak.

Somehow, the phrase “in crocodile” has you close to smiling. Especially in this circumstance. Fuck. You are most definitely contaminated by Lloyd Fucking Hansen. You bite the inside of your cheek from actually smiling. As a result, you accidentally bite on your wound.

It stings like a bitch.

The man in front of you speaks softly, “Suza is my brother. And your boss, Lloyd Hansen, killed him.”

This is not going to end well.

You pray to whatever deity that would answer, and hope that you could have a better ending than the Brewer guys. If not, then at least a quick, painless death.

The man observes your face for any expression that could slip away some info, but eventually, he sighs and continues, “So, I decided that I would avenge him, by taking away Lloyd’s most prized possession.”

Ah. Lloyd’s most prized possession would be his gun. He’d spend an hour every day wiping it spotless with a fine cloth, counting the bullets in his gun before popping the magazine back in place. You have heard about a few of the henchmen joking that Lloyd would be more pissed if a man touches his gun, compared to touching his dick,

You have seen the gun on many occasions. Most of the times on his belt, occasionally in his hand, and once, only once on the table when he was dismantling it. But he quickly put it back together seeing you with the pile of paperwork and shoved it back on his belt. Twice, if you are counting the time when he nearly bleeds out in your home.

“Aaaaaaand you want to ask me what his prized possession is?” You pipe up.

That’d be easy. However, you doubt what this Brewer brother had in mind could be this plain and straight.

As far as you know, Lloyd doesn’t have any siblings, parents to account for (he was adopted by a gang member around five, who died in an alley fight a decade later), women that he’d ride or die for (he picks different escorts when he’s in the mood, no one, in particular, meets his eyes), or any offsprings (then your job would be more nanny than a secretary). In fact, you wrecked your brain for the answer to this question, and the truth is, that Lloyd doesn’t care about anyone in any way – apart from the men (and women) working for him. Even so, his expression of “caring” is to drop a generous check if any of them was taken out or quit voluntarily, and never pay attention to them again.

He doesn’t have any pets, neither a dog nor a goldfish to keep him company.

You wonder whether he harbors any feelings at all, except the thrill of being a sociopath.

… maybe he loves his gun in a romantic way, who knows.

“No. I got that part.” Brewer No.2 speaks with a wild glint in his eyes, “And she’s sitting right in front of me.”

You huff out a laugh. This could be the top 1 joke of the Hansen Government Services, that Lloyd sees you as his prize? Pfft.

But the man’s determent tone tells you differently. That he believes Lloyd cherishes you the most. Which means he is going to take you away.

“Don’t believe me?” He shrugs, “My intel snapped pictures of a file, hidden in his top drawer, on top of every shit he has.” Showing the pictures he has on his phone, he added, “You were on that file, Ms. Secretary.”

It was Lloyd’s desk. Dimly-lit, but still, Lloyd’s desk. Someone could burn that desk down to ash and you’d still recognize it. And the file laid bare. With a CV and a photo…

Oh no. Oh shit. It is you.

You’d be lucky as hell if Brewer No.2 simply told you something bad about Lloyd and gave you some money to run far away, as if this is some bullshit mob romance novel. In this situation, he is more likely to skin you alive and send your fingers in a FedEx package to Lloyd’s doorstep as a Christmas present. Or pull out your fingernails before shooting you in the head. Or torture you in the most painful ways possible. Oh God.

The fucking Brewer family and both of these men could go straight to Hell strapped on rabid Cerberus with burning white-hot iron shoes that could not come off.

Think. Think! He hasn’t killed you yet. Why he hasn’t killed you yet? You could be more deader than Suza Brewer who was stuck at the bottom of the pier right now. Why is this Brewer No.2 keeping you alive? What does he want from you besides to intimidate Lloyd?

You have no choice but to ask, “I’m guessing that, since I haven’t got a bullet between my eyes, you want something else too?”

A wicked grin perks up his lips. Handing his phone to your face, he says, “I want you to call him.”

Forget dental care, you now hope Lloyd could pay for a decent funeral.

Brewer No.2 dials the number for you and puts it on speaker. Your heart thumping in your ears, praying that he’d answer. But also praying that he won’t. What if it’s a larger trap to lure him here? You’d rather he doesn’t pick up and get it over with. Plus, he’s too busy to pick up calls, he’s negotiating with the Russians-

“Who’s this?” Lloyd’s sharp voice pierces through the speaker, and seems to have gripped your throat tightly.

Brewer No.2 urges you to speak, but turns out he’s too hyped up to wait for your mumbling lips to make a sound. He drags his tone almost annoyingly, “Hello, Hansen. I’m Levi Brewer, brother of Suza Brewer. I’m here to collect a debt.”

“Oh yeah? Enlighten me.”

That’s so un-Lloyd-like. He’d normally end the call until the person on the other end of the phone could learn to speak what they want directly, which you have witnessed a few dozen times. You can almost imagine Lloyd’s unamused face and his killing glare, having had to deal with Brewer No.2, Levi Brewer.

“You, Mr. Hansen, killed my brother, which is why I’m taking the love of your life away from you.” Brewer No.2 announces, pulling out his gun to flip the safe off. The crisp clicking noise is like a heavy punch to your stomach, declaring the clock of your life ticking towards its end.

Jesus. You? The love of Lloyd’s life? You could’ve sworn Lloyd has a deeper bond to that escort named Cherry than you.

“Say hello to the pretty little thing I’ve just captured.” Brewer slams his palm across your face, squeezing a yelp out of your tightened throat.

The only “pretty” thought about you is that you are pretty sure you are neither “little”, nor “thing”, but that’s a debate settled for another time.

“Say your name, beautiful. I’m sure your boss would catch up soon.” Brewer No.2 points the gun to your face, and places the phone near your lips.

No matter how reluctant you are, you know this might be the only chance where you can tip Lloyd off. And maybe, just maybe he’d revenge on Tweedle Dee by allowing Dee – Brewer No.2 share the same fate as his brother. “Evening, Mr. Hansen.” You mumble, the taste of iron roots deeply in your mouth that you cannot speak clearly, “Sorry to disturb you.”

Lloyd doesn’t reply. He must be mad. Deeply mad at you for ruining his negotiation with the Russians.

Russian? Fuck, the Russian in the room – you spare a quick glance at the silent bulk of beard in the corner – shit, they were in on it together. The Russian mobs asked Lloyd to give you up – nonono, it can’t be, Lloyd wasn’t that good at acting, and considering Levi is sharing this news that you were kidnapped just now, he could be plotting with the Russians.

Does Lloyd know? Your head is messing with your thoughts. Does he know about your abduction? Was he permitting this to happen?

No. Brewer works against Lloyd, which means Lloyd couldn’t have known.

Who should you trust? Was Lloyd generous enough to give you up? Even though he declined Suza Brewer’s deal: you for the business? And fed him to the sharks because he disrespected you?

… probably crocodiles, but who cares at this point.

“Are you hurt?” Lloyd asks.

“Not really.” The tip of your tongue presses against the wound in your mouth, eliciting pain to clear your head – desperate measures for desperate times – and you continue, “I was wondering, though. I think two teeth of mine are loose. Does the employee benefit cover dental care?”

Think, think, think! How can you pass on the message?

Before Lloyd can answer, you take a head start, “Must be one of those Alenka … Alonka Chocolate bars?”

Last Christmas, the Russian mobs sent over a basket of those chocolate bars, Lloyd ordered to have them tested (in case there was poison) and gave them to his employees after they came out clean. But that was about a year ago, and Lloyd saw the wrapping papers in the basket near your seat right before the day ended. He joked about “eating with the enemy” while you admitted the chocolate was not half bad.

There. The message. Loud and clear.

“The dental plan gives you a 10% discount,” Lloyd says calmly. Which is a big fat lie, because no dental plan would be so petty. He wants to say something about 10. But about what? Ten minutes until he’s here? He’d bring ten men along?

“But I won’t tolerate tardiness, sunshine,” Lloyd’s voice sends a shiver down your spine, “Your working hours are nine am to eight pm. Don’t you dare be late.”

Holy Mary and Joseph. First ten, now nine and eight? Lloyd is about to tear this place down in less than ten seconds.

“Enough chitchat.” Brewer No.2 takes the phone back and aims his gun at your face again, “Say your goodbyes. Lloyd Hansen, you are about to hear her final words.”

“My final words?” You lean back onto the chair, steadying yourself with your feet as much as possible, “You really talk too much.”

A loud blast erupts from where the silent Russian is standing. He is most definitely covered in a few dozen kilos of rubbles and bricks. Levi instinctively covers his head, but the blast knocks him to the ground, where he stays unconscious. You are the only one with enough preparations to lower your body, even though being tied to the chair. But you still get thrown over by the blast and the chair collapses underneath your body.

A few henchmen armed to the teeth step through the hole in the wall. After them, Lloyd.

Lloyd in a black coat.

Your ears are ringing, and you can’t tell what he’s trying to say.

Another man with a black briefcase comes to your side. Your pupils were examined, your pulse was checked, and your lungs were listened to.

“… you feel any pain?” The other man asks you.

You shake your head. It hurts a bit in your mouth but that’s just a little cut.

“She’s alright.” The man who appears to be a doctor confirms, helping you up from the ground.

You stand on wobbly legs. The past hour has been too much of a scare that your knees are shaking. You trip over your own feet, before a pair of solid arms steadies you.

“Easy tiger.” Lloyd’s voice booms by your ear, having your head snap in his direction.

He came.

Oh God he came.

Knowing this was a semi-trap, but he didn’t need to be here. He could wait until this is over and give you a proper burial.

And you could’ve died. He could’ve died. You both could’ve died.

You stumble into his embrace, fingers clenching his thick woolen coat.

You probably shouldn’t. He’s your employer, your boss. He’d probably sue you for sexual harassment. But you did.

The blood soars in your ears. You dare not breathe out loud, fearing that you are dreaming.

It feels like a dream. It all did.

“ ’s alright. It’s alright now.” Lloyd murmurs. He runs a hand down your spine, inching your head close to his shoulder.

“How-How did you find me so soon?” Among everything, this is the one you were the most curious about. Yet you dare not look at him. Even if he has just saved your life.

Lloyd narrows his eyes. If you were any other girl, you’d be crying and weeping, and wiping snot on his coat, telling him how much you wanted to be with him the moment you thought you were dying. But no. You were not any other girl.

Fuck.

Long story short, he doesn’t want to elaborate, for you have plenty of time to discuss about this later, “Noticed there was something wrong with the Russians. Then your doorman called.”

“My doorman?” You raise your head to look at him, your brows furrow in confusion, “The guy at the residence entrance? Henry?” While your fingers slowly untangling from his coat.

“He had my number – I’m the last tenant of that condo – told me your pizza came and he couldn’t reach you,” Lloyd explains as simply as possible.

Ah yes. You ended your work around 7pm and ordered pizza…

You make a mental note to thank Henry for saving your life.

A groan drifts to your ear. You turn around on instinct, as Levi Brewer regains his senses.

“Where… I… What…”

In a split second, Lloyd pulls out his gun to shoot him twice in the chest.

A scream gets stuck in your throat, when the crimson blooms in Brewer’s chest.

Your body is shaking, trembling - a natural fear towards the predator behind you.

Brewer crumbles to the ground.

Lloyd lets out a sigh. He puts his arm around you, guiding your hand towards a piece of lukewarm metal. The metal that has just shot Brewer in the chest.

“You have no idea how to shoot, do you?” He asks, but doesn’t expect you to answer. It is a miracle that you are not fainting, he had hoped for far less before arriving.

Wrapping your index finger around the trigger, Lloyd takes a deep breath before flipping off the safe.

“Eye.” He lifts your chin in the direction of Brewer on the ground.

“Arm.” One of his hands steadies your shaking arm into a stable angle.

“Mark.” He lowers the gun point to Brewer’s forehead.

His warm chest against your back, blocking every possible way of escaping. The familiar feeling of having your throat in his hands creeps up your neck, making it difficult for you to breathe.

Your heart thumping loudly, your breath as shallow as it can be, as the warm air coming out of his mouth reaches your ears.

“Aim for the head. And shoot.”

He curls his finger next to yours, and your finger hits the trigger.

The gun is well-positioned, allowing the bullet to dive into Brewer’s forehead, leaving a round of crimson around the bullet hole.

You spin on your heels immediately, fighting the hurling stomach deep down.

The hard piece of metal comes between you and Lloyd.

A gun.

Lloyd’s gun.

You just used a gun to kill someone.

You are never getting a decent job anywhere in the world.

You are going to keep this skeleton in your closet forever (and of course, working for Lloyd until the day you die).

The cold metal burns your palm. You remember about the jokes that Lloyd never allows anyone to touch his gun.

“I… This belongs to you.” You shove the gun into his hands, as if this is some beast that would bite your fingers off if you keep it for one more second.

Lloyd snorts when his prized gun is pushed into his hands. But he doesn’t say another word. He clasps the gun back on his belt before ordering his men to leave.

You follow his troop out of the building in silence. The past hour has been a series of roller-coaster events that you need some time to process.

Denny is waiting in the car when you climb in. While the rest of Lloyd’s men get in a van, Lloyd barks a few orders to them that you haven’t paid attention to. You sit in the car, your back rigid, and you put your hands on your knees like a pupil in class.

Denny offers a sympathetic smile when your eyes meet in the rear-view mirror. He isn’t the type to talk, serving as Lloyd’s driver. But he’s nice enough to hand you a bottled water from the glove compartment, which you take with a murmured “thanks” and clench it with your knuckles turning white.

The adrenaline fades from your blood system, and your heart beats in a stable rhythm, your breathing finally adjusts itself to slow inhales and exhales.

The bruises on your wrists and ankles are scorching in pain. The back of your head is hurting too. Luckily, none of your bones is broken, which could be the best news of this evening.

This feels way too familiar.

As Lloyd opens the car door, your heart jumps to your throat again.

You are worried. Worrying about he’d fire you, thinking you have leaked information to the Brewer guy. Worrying about you have touched his gun, using it to kill someone, no less, and he’d cut off your hand for using it. Worrying about Lloyd would be dead if he steps into a trap with you as bait, that Levi Brewer intended to kill him…

Why the fuck are you worrying about Lloyd? He’s perfectly fine taking care of himself. It is you who needs extra self-defense lessons.

“What… Um, what happened to the truce you went to negotiate with the Russians?” You can’t help but ask, knowing that the dead Russian who kidnapped you was dragged out of the rubbles and put into a body bag, heading in another direction on the van that had Lloyd’s men on it.

“It was a trick,” Lloyd grumbles, “to stall. We agreed upon no phones, so it took me a while to get the call from that doorman. Then I knew they were trying to stall me from getting to you.”

You were whacked when you had just picked up the drycleaning for Lloyd. “-my car, and my – your clothes -” You remember.

“-were taken care of.” He picks up where you left off, “I’m assigning you an assistant, Claire. She’s living next door. She has driven your car back to the garage, and sent the clothes to dry cleaning as well.”

“An assistant? I don’t need an assistant.” You argue, “I can work fine on my own.”

“And get knocked out on the street in the middle of the night?” Lloyd snorts impatiently, “She’s there to protect you, but ask her to pick up the coffee, take out the trash, and drive the car for you, I don’t care. Claire would be by your side when I’m not close enough to save your ass.”

Ah. So you are a liability to him.

Maybe you weren’t suitable for a mob secretary at all.

You were no prized possession, as Brewer claimed to be.

And he’s your boss. You should feel lucky to be alive instead of mulling over whether he treats you special or not.

“Yes, Mr. Hansen.” You collect your feelings. It is perfectly normal for him to assign you a bodyguard/assistant. Hell, it’s even perfectly normal that he wants to fire you for your incompetence. Hiring an assistant? He doesn’t want you to get kidnapped again, that’s all.

… or replace you when she gets the gist of your job.

You think bitterly, staring at the tinted window.

“By the way, you don’t have to come to work tomorrow.” Lloyd casually tells you, “Paid leave, and it’s Friday anyway, you deserve some time off after this …” He carefully considers the choice of words, “… incident.”

“Thank you, Mr. Hansen.” You reply automatically.

It is such a weird thing that you let out a small exhale of relief when you heard the word “paid leave”, as if he would’ve thrown you off the car and told you that you are fired right after saying you don’t have to come to work.

Lloyd isn’t so ruthless after all.

Your heart beats faster, hopeful for …

What are you hopeful for?

You kick the ridiculous thought into the corner of your mind, answering, “I’ll be back on Monday.”

Taglist (Also tagging those who might be interested): @stargazingfangirl18 @sarahdonald87 @joannaliceevans-fanficblog @magnificentsaladllama @biteofcherry @petalj @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @thezombieprostitute @yiiiikesmish @warriorblu @vonalyn @notathingjustthere @lokislady82 @irishhappiness @toozmanykids @alicedopey @cakesandtom @universitypenguin @openup-yourmind @helenaeisenhower @wilsons-striped-ties @tittittoee @bean-is-reading @yearningforsappho @esposadomd @salvatoreitmeanssaviour

Find A Whiff of Blood Masterlist here 👈

Questions? Comments? Requests? 👉Send them to my inbox 👂

[bloodweep]

Warning these are NSFW

I’m also a trans man that is a-okay with pussy/cunt - I mainly write character x male reader but headcanons they are for everyone

“Ma don’t do this to me”

━━━━━━━ ✦❘༻༺❘✦ ━━━━━━━

. . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋ After some time together ࿐ྂ

‗ ❍ He gets excited over you very easily, he normally did; but now it’s worse, your scent invades his senses all the time; torturing him slowly

‗ ❍ The hugs getting longer, tighter and clingier

‗ ❍ Chests pressed together, his nose behind your ears nuzzling, if you hear a low guttural sound leave him ignore it; it will make it worse

‗ ❍ his hands began to wander, no longer staying around your midsection, moving to your hips, so dangerously close to your ass

‗ ❍ eventually he would have you caged to a tree, his forearm pressing into the bark, ignoring the scratching form on his skin, his muscles bunching and flexing by your head - this would happen more often now, this position, caging you in, loaning over you, yet he didn’t force anything

‗ ❍ GODS I know he would have the biggest muscles of his brother, so fucking big and bulky

‗ ❍ in this position he would show his fangs more, his tail flicking lazily behind him

‗ ❍ UGH he would definitely lean over you, his head tilting down into your space to speak, whispering to you so your conversation can be private

‗ ❍ this position is what caused the first kiss, he was so close, you both were sharing each others breaths, he exhaled you inhaled; back and forth

‗ ❍ finally his eyes lidded he looked over you; waiting, he may be demanding, cocky, grabby but he wouldn’t force this

‗ ❍ once he’s gotten the okay he press his lips to yours, a low growl from his throat

‗ ❍ his free hand would grip your hip, yanking you flush against his hips grinding against you with each kiss

‗ ❍ you definitely gotten fucked against the tree more than once

‗ ❍ oh BOY is he a munch, can eat pussy for hours if you let him, face buried into your cunt, lapping and sucking, his fangs scrapping against your cunt

‗ ❍ he’s most certainly snarled and nipped at your direction when you pull him away before shoving his face back into your cunt

‗ ❍ would eat your pussy for breakfast , lunch and dinner and even dessert

‗ ❍ has definitely been yelled out for leaving a gang scratches on your cunt

‗ ❍ a giver more than a receiver

‗ ❍ loves doggy

‗ ❍ “oh mamas” is definitely what he growls out as he fucks into you

‗ ❍ will enjoy having your pussy juices coat his face and neck as he fucks you, will get grumpy and nippy if you try to clean it off, he wants to smell like you and feel claimed

‗ ❍ I can see this man LOVING anal, the first time he’s giving the okay he nearly combusts, he loves your ass so much and being able to fuck it sends him into space

‗ ❍ would love to eat your cunt while stretching your ass open

‗ ❍ enjoys to overstimulate you until you’re crying, he just wants to feel your legs around his head crushing

‗ ❍ reverse cowgirl position too so he can keep his hands all over your ass

‗ ❍ into biting, he wouldn’t know how to ask to mark you up, but once you’ve pulled his head into your neck, he would certainly leave little marks there - marks your thighs too

‗ ❍ loves scratches, he wants your mark on him all the time

‗ ❍ he’s SO into muzzles, muzzle him up and yank on it to control him

‗ ❍ he would definitely hold you up into the air and fuck into you, showing off how strong he is, how good of a mate he is to you

‗ ❍ wants you to squirt on his face and chest all the time, enjoys your scent and wants everyone to know that

‗ ❍ he’s broken many of his and your beds from fucking you so hard, but it never stopped him from making sure you finished before making you a new one - at this point you suggest to fuck on the floor but he wants to make sure you’re comfortable on the bed

‗ ❍ He’s the one to be fucking into you, reaching up and gripping the headboard - which the area would break off in his hand from how tight he is holding it

‗ ❍ he’s a fucking dirty clothes sniffer (you cannot tell me he would bury his nose into your underwear and inhale, that man is a fucking dog)

‗ ❍ Throatfucking, drives him crazy when he can fuck into your throat, his hand gripping around the bulge in your throat

‗ ❍ size difference, sends him wild when he can see his dick through your stomach

‗ ❍ Somnophilia - receiving, loves waking up to you riding him, or your sitting down on his face

‗ ❍ breath play - receiving, suffocate him with your thighs, cunt, gripping his neck when you ride him

━━━━━━━ ✦❘༻༺❘✦ ━━━━━━━

Tagging: @n3rdy247

I apologize they are so short, might add to them but this is all I could think of right now!

Added a gif I made because fuck him and his goggles does stuff to me

[calico-cheriies]

WASTED SUMMERS |Manjiro Sano x Reader Fanfic|

{Chapter two}

{Masterlist}

{WASTED SUMMERS Masterlist}

"Confess I loved you, just thinking of you... I know I've loved you from the start..."

—————————————————

You already regretted being acquainted with the gang member, who you'd just found was the leader of one of the most powerful gangs! How could you have guessed that the insufferable airhead was the gang leader for crying out loud?!

Your face heating up in embarrassment when someone had confronted you about your relationship with him. Of course, there was many things to take from this; the first one being that your classmates were nosy, and the second being that the short childish boy was the leader of one of the most feared gangs. You couldn't believe you let the delinquent walk you home, and even worse- you confided personal things to him!

Though you had to admit that it was the most fun and relaxing time you've had in a long time- you really needed other people to talk to if that's how you felt about him- or rather around him.

You shook away the thoughts as you walked towards one of the classrooms, sliding open the door and greeting some of your fellow peers. You would often stay after school to participate in the student council meetings, ever since you were voted as the student president and confirmed valedictorian, you had made it a responsibility to address some changes and revisions of rules.

You had been anticipating this thing since the summer before this year- so you had really been on top of everything. "(Y/N)! Thank you for stopping by, we already made a rough draft," the salutatorian bowed his head before handing you some papers.

You scanned the papers and nodded, "These are fine... I will review and edit them before officially publishing them with the news club," you sent a smile to the boy, who visibly blushed but went unnoticed by you. Thus it begun your stay there for an hour and a half, but there was something that you couldn't help but feel a familiar warm feeling blossom in you. You had to admit that being around others that were like you was comforting.

Your salutatorian, whom was named Riku, had always competed with you since you were children, so you had a fun time sending teasing jabs to him and getting to know any new people that were new this year. That was before the sliding door swung open to reveal the last person you wanted to see.

Mikey.

You ignored the boy who casually walked in with his friend behind him, everyone in the room went quiet and even tensed up, Riku even slightly scooted away from you.

Harsh.

"Mikey, this room is specifically for the student council," you spoke up just as Mikey was about to speak. Intense (E/c) eyes looking up with a stern glare, it wasn't really aggressive but it was definitely a warning that it wasn't a good time. Many watched as Mikey leaned in close to your face, he clearly didn't care and it seemed like what you said didn't make it to his brain. "No need to be rude to your best friend, (Y/N)-Chan," he grinned, making sure to loudly announce the nickname he had given you.

Most kid's tensed up, it was considered rude to call someone on the student council such nicknames, especially from someone that had a bad reputation like Mikey. They were expecting to see you yell or even back down, but you did neither.

You had rolled your eyes and stood up, bowing to your classmates as an apology. "I'm sorry for his rudeness, I'll be right back," a light hue of pink on your cheeks, you didn't like the glances the students gave each other after Mikey's nickname for you came out and you grabbed Mikey by the collar and dragged him out, "Draken, you too." You simply stated as the two walked out, at least they didn't really fight you on it.

You closed the door, "You guys can't come in here and do what you want! You're scaring my peers away and you're making me look bad!" You crossed your arms, eyes glaring up at the two boys. Draken shrugged, "Sorry," he didn't even sound sincere!

You sighed and while shaking your head you asked the question, "Whatever, what did you need anyways?" you were confused as to why they wanted to see you, Mikey was quiet as he stared at you. It didn't seem like they would go out of their way for someone like you. It had been a few days since you last saw them, and you weren't even friends with them.

At least- that's what you assumed.

The three of them stood there in silence, so you kept tapping your foot impatiently before Mikey said anything, it was strange... he was looking down with a weird expression... did he feel ill or something? You didn't like his piercing gaze on you and it began to make you squirm under his intense stare. This was the first time you felt kind of afraid of his gaze, he sure could stare anyone to death...

You supposed you could see why people were afraid of him...

"Mikey... are you alright?" You were obviously concerned until Draken eventually shoved him aside, "Mikey wanted to invite you out with us, Takemichi and his girl were going to come with us and some other friends..." Draken revealed and that made you silent.

Suddenly you threw your head back a little bit and let out a quiet laugh, your lips curved into a smile as you shook your head. "That's thoughtful of you guys... I didn't think I was scary to approach," you had now understood- well to Mikey it was misunderstood but it didn't matter. "I appreciate the offer, but I have to stay, unfortunately," you bowed your head apologetically, it was kind of disappointing that you couldn't go but it was still your responsibility to take care of student problems and study. Plus- you weren't even sure if you were the right person to ask. You obviously weren't as laid back as Hina was and you didn't think you would be looked at as a fun person- but the gesture was enough of make your heart flutter.

"(Y/N)-Chan... you're so boring," of course that came from Mikey...

"Okay... thanks, Sano," a sigh escaped your lips, (e/c) eyes slowly traveling down so you wouldn't have to see his smug smile. Your fingers were messing with the hem of your uniform's sleeve. "I just have a lot of things to do... but maybe next time," you sent them a half smile, but then Riku peeked his head out of the classroom.

He seemed to slightly glare at Mikey, before turning to you with a smile, "(Y/N)... we just finished since it's getting late, do you want to walk home together?" he had already grabbed your bag and you hummed in response and turned your back to Mikey, not seeing his smile drop. "Huh?... oh sure-" you outstretched your hand, fingers grazing the strap of your messenger bag until Mikey beat you to it and grabbed it for you.

"(Y/N)-Chan... let's go home!" Mikey declared as Draken stared down the salutatorian, he was also a scary starer..."Whatever Mikey says, goes," he was intimidating the poor boy! You were stunned as Mikey dragged you by the hand towards the exit from Draken and the boy.

You wrinkled your face in annoyance which stopped you from  walking causing the blonde to glance back, "Hm? Did you forget something?" he asked, clearly oblivious to what you were feeling. You pointed to the end of the hall where they just came from, "Mikey! You can't just scare someone like that... plus, I thought you were going out!" The words sputtered out of your mouth, cheeks heating up in embarrassment. You did make sure to note that you owed your classmate an apology... and maybe more to make up for the intrusion.

"(Y/N)-Chan... that boy is no good!" Mikey huffed out, continuing to pull you forward. "Plus... I wanna walk you home!" he childishly retorted, causing you to shake your head in annoyance again. "Sano... you just have to ask," you mumbled, already to exhausted to argue, not even sure why Mikey wanted to be around you so much. It's not like he had a life-changing conversation with you anyway... but a thought then popped into your head.

...He's going to be a pest to you for sure, he could always be following you around or always barging in during your free time to sit and talk to you. You enjoyed his company for now but there was one thing that was stopping you-

His delinquent lifestyle.

The walk home was a bit different than the last one, the last one had a much more relaxed and peaceful vibe to it. This one felt more... vulnerable and somewhat personal, you saw that Mikey had some kind of expression on his face, and you subconsciously gripped the strap of your messenger back tightly before deciding to ask the looming question. "Mikey..." you hadn't realized how your voice came out soft- almost like a whisper and you were afraid that he didn't hear it. You were prepared to feel embarrassed until the blonde turned his head slightly in your direction. "Hm?" His hum made your stomach feel nervous, and you weren't sure what it was.

"What are you thinking about?" You watched his face for any change, it seemed that he was good at hiding his emotions because he kept the same neutral smile plastered on his face.

It was getting dark while you waited for his response, the sun was setting and it painted this light orange hue over his face. You thought that the light made him seem more vulnerable, he didn't have a scowl or a glare like most delinquents did- he had a more childlike and sweet aura that just drew you more into him.

"Heh, I didn't take you for the kind to be nosy," his response was teasing, and it made you just let out a small snort, you weren't acting out like you had done so earlier or many times before, you had even accepted the teasing response because you felt compelled to show that you were actually worried- or rather curious as to what the delinquent was thinking in.

"I was thinking about something coming up..." was all he ended up saying, and it prompted you to already start thinking of what the boy could mean. Was it a birthday? No- it had to be something that was clearly meaningful to him. The next thing that came to mind was the fact that he was the leader of a gang, could be something related to that?

"Are you going to fight someone?" The words slipped out, but you really couldn't help but ask, your face becoming slightly flushed at the personal question. You begun to panicking now as he stopped in the middle of the side walk which prompted you to stopped next ton him but you couldn't really read his expression. "Ah- I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-" you really were a stuttering mess, the confident aura slowly deteriorating as the tension became awkward, at least to you.

"(Y/n)-chan... you're so smart," he threw his head back in laughter, clearly enjoying seeing the uptight girl get flustered. "Glad that you came to that conclusion..." you muttered under your breath, not wanting to ruin the smile he had on his lips, it was a nice sight to see according to you- at least that's what you thought. You just ended up elbowing him gently, not wanting to push an answer out of him. "Just... be careful, it's my job as the top student of our class to look out for my peers," you grunted out, trying to find some reason to not worry over him or flatter him.

You both stood there for a few more minutes, the sounds of the cars driving by and the rustling of leaves was the only noise between the two. You hadn't realized you had been staring down at your shoes until Mikey flicked you on the forehead, causing your figure to flinch and cry out instinctively, "Hey!" Your hands flew up to rub the spot where he flicked you. Your eyes snapping up to meet his much darker ones. "You're too sweet, let's get you home nerd," his smile was pulled into his usual lazy one, causing a sigh from you and you continued the walk home.

"Thanks... for walking me home instead, Sano," you stood stopped in front of your house, now turning to face him. "It feels nicer to see you don't go around beating guys up, it feels safe," a snicker left you, enjoying the way his eyes lit up for a bit. "You just like having me around," he stuffed his hands into the pockets of his Toman jacket, his face turning to look at the details of your humble house. "Whatever, just get home safe you dork," you ended up gently shoving him. Now red face at how his childish response got you riled up. "Bye Mikey," you stepped back to signal him to leave with a wave.

Mikey had turned around to leave, his boots clicking against the concrete before he heard his name being shouted out. He had swung around thinking something had happened in the short amount of time. He couldn't imagine to his surprise that it was the (H/c) girl rushing at him, your phone in hand.

{Chapter three}

—————————————————-

[escapingrealtiylovinginsanity]

NSFW Alphabet: Joe Velasco  

I’ve always wanted to do this, and I thought it would be fast and easy but boy was I wrong. I think I went a little overboard, but I enjoyed this, and I would do it again for other characters. WARNING: There is a small mention of SA  

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex) 

Joe is an aftercare king. He has been touched starved most of his life and loves physical contact. He wants to stay in bed and hold you, caress your body, and kiss your skin until your heartrates even out and the sweat from your lovemaking cools. He will run his hands through your hair and whisper sweet words in your ear. You can tell how much he enjoyed the sex by the ratio of English to Spanish. He defaults back to his mother tongue the harder the climax hits which leaves him in a state of superior orgasmic high.  

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and their partner’s) 

Joe’s favorite body part of his is his arms. He keeps himself in good shape for his job and is proud of the physical effects it has on his body. He likes knowing that he is strong and that if he needs to, he can protect you.    

Joe’s love your body in its entirety. He makes that very clear to you many times over. If you ever had any body issues this man is the cure for them. That said he is definitely a thigh man. Any chance he gets his hands smooth over your thighs, squeezing the tender flesh and muscles there. He loves to slide between your thighs, kissing and sucking bruises into them. When he knows you’ll indulge him he will lay his head on your lap for hours while watching the football game or when he is exhausted from work, take a nap.      

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically) 

Joe isn’t really concerned with his own cum. He doesn’t have a breeding kink and he has always been rigidly careful with all his sexual partners, always using condoms. It took months into a steady relationship with you and the assurance of birth control to convince him to do it raw. You were shocked to find out that you were the first person he ever had sex without protection with. 

He is, however, obsessed with your arousal. He wants to make sure you are completely soaked. He loves the taste and the feel of it dripping down his chin or thighs depending on the position.  

D = Dirty secret (self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs) 

Joe lost his virginity to a girl who was in the gang back in Jaurez that he helped when he was younger. He was only thirteen and the girl was nineteen. It was an awkward experience, and the girl was high on something. Joe doesn’t like to think about it and has never admitted that he hadn’t consented to it. All his friends thought it was so cool that he had been with an older girl, so he never made a big deal out of it.    

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?) 

Joe has experience, mostly with hookups and one-night stands. He had a Casanova phase. The women were fast but warm. He learned a lot about women this way but towards the end, it just left him feeling emotionally empty. 

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying) 

Joe’s favorite position is missionary, mating press, or anything position that is face to face. Joe likes to kiss, and he is good with his tongue. He gets quite hypnotized watching your breast bounce. It gives him easy access to suck on your breast or slide his hands between your legs to play with your clit.    

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.) 

Joe is more passionate and serious in bed. But the longer you guys are together and the more intimate you get the more his humor shows. The pillow talk is where he gets more relaxed and jokes around.    

H = Hair (how well-groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.) 

Joe doesn’t do a full manscape, but he likes to keep his hair trimmed up. But if his life gets busy, he doesn’t think much about it. He is the type of guy that if you requested him to completely shave, would do his best to oblige you.   

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect) 

Joe loves intimacy even if he doesn’t realize it. He likes making his partner feel good and like there is a connection. When he is in a stable relationship the intimacy from him doesn’t just double but triples. He wants to touch you, hold you, finger your hair, share eye contact, and most of all he wants you to know that he sees you and that you see him.   

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon) 

Joe masturbates but not to an extreme. He would much rather wait until he has time to have sex with you. He usually only does it when he is trying to blow off steam or has had a stressful day. He will also take care of himself if he is horny, but you aren’t in the mood to have sex.   

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks) 

Joe has a praise kink and loves to dirty talk. He loves hearing the sounds from your lovemaking. The moans and groans you make, the smack of your bodies meeting, the squelching sounds of wet pussy as he thrusts into you good and hard. A bonus kink of Joe’s is thigh-high stockings, the man goes feral when you wear them. Be warned that you will probably be sporting finger-shaped bruises on your thighs for weeks after.     

L = Location (favorite places to do the do) 

The bed or couch is the usual go-to for Joe. He likes the comfortability and versatility that they provide for positions and moving around. He has of course christened his entire place with you and has found various other preferences. He likes shower sex but gets tired of the water running cold before he is through with you. 

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going) 

You. Joe doesn’t need much reason to have sex. A big turn-on for him is when you initiate. There is just something about you wanting him and having no trouble showing it, that has all his blood heading south.   

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs) 

Joe is not willing to share. He will never be okay with having another person join in on your sex life.   

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.) 

Joe loves to give oral. If he could eat your pussy every day, he would. He is a pro at it and doesn’t stop until your legs are shaking and you're trying to push him away from being overstimulated. Then he will take his time licking up his mess from your inner thighs. 

Joe always enjoys a good blow job. You on your knees in front of him sucking his cock, tongue licking, spit lubricating the slide he could lose his damn mind. That being said, at the beginning of your relationship he would never ask for one. He had bad experiences with some of the women he was with not enjoying it, giving little to no effort, or complaining. It made it not worth it to him because he wanted to bring his partners pleasure and their obvious distaste for the act was a turnoff for him. He stopped asking and for a long time, none of his hookups offered so he went without. He was shocked and unbelievably turned on by how into you were. He still doesn’t like asking, and you offer often so he doesn’t have to, but he will on occasion now.    

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.) 

Joe is on both sides of his coin. He can be slow and passionate, especially during lazy morning sex. when the mood strikes making you feel every inch of his cock filling you. Whispering praises into your ear and caressing your skin. His default is on the rougher side. He will take you fast and rough, skin slapping against yours. He will take you, make you his, and leave some sort of love bite on your skin to remember him by.  

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.) 

While Joe would prefer to take his time, he enjoys quickies. Life is fast past and busy there is no way of getting around it if you want to steal some time for release in each other. He will also admit that the limited time and having to finish up and act like it never happened adds a sense of urgency and can make the experience hotter.    

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.) 

Joe is willing to take some risks. He likes to experiment and is willing to try pretty much anything you request. Working at SVU and what he has seen there are some lines he won’t cross. 

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?) 

Joe has a higher stamina. He can drag foreplay and sex out for hours. He will also go multiple rounds if you have the time and energy. The two of you tend to have 24-hour fuck-a-tons after he gets back from undercover assignments leaving you both sore and walking a bit funny for a few days afterward.    

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?) 

No, Joe doesn’t have any toys. He doesn’t see the use for them but would probably use them on you if you asked. He’s more of a restraint guy, he would prefer to cuff or tie you up.  

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease) 

This man is the biggest tease. He will have you so worked up that you will be hating him as much as you love him. You will be shaking and begging him to just take you already. The payoff is more than worth it, the orgasm and the afterglow high are otherworldly.  

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.) 

Joe is pretty vocal he will grunt and groan. He likes to talk dirty when he is taking you and gets off on the sounds you guys make when having sex. He can be quiet with the right motivation for doing the deed in more risqué spots.  

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character) 

While Joe doesn’t smoke often anymore, he always has a spare pack of cigarettes in his house and in his motorcycle side bag. He only craves them when his stress level gets too high or when he has had a particularly rough round of sex that releases that stress. He doesn’t like anyone to know and goes to great lengths to cover it when he does. You had found out when he had lit one up while you were supposed to be showering but had come back in to urge Joe to join you. 

He had been sitting on the bed, a cigarette held loosely in his fingers as he blew smoke out the window. His body was relaxed, and he seemed at peace at that moment. He had been embarrassed you had caught him.  

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes) 

Joe is a shower, not a grower. He is a big boy with above average in size cock, about 6.5 to 7 inches long. He is girthy enough that there is a definite stretch when he first enters you but nothing overwhelming.    

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?) 

Joe has an above-average sex drive. He wants to have sex multiple times a week. He also goes through phases where he wants to spend days in the bedroom, inside of you. It does occasionally dip with bad cases at work or when his personal life feels out of control.  

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards) 

Joe tries to stay awake after, but he usually ends up falling asleep quickly. It’s hard for him not to when he is riding the high from his orgasm and your soft body is tucked into his. You can try to sneak out of bed to use the bathroom or grab a glass of water, but you will wake him. Joe is a light sleeper.  

Another one is done! I have been loving writing again. I think I might branch out and do some other SVU characters too. I started rewatching season 13 and I forgot how much I loved Nick Amaro- I'm not ashamed to admit I have it bad for Latino men! So anyways I have a few ideas for him too. I love Barba and Carisi too, but I think I would struggle writing for them. If you want me to attempt just let me know along with any request.

[tainted-liquor]

'Ease on Down₊ ⊹

Earth42!Miles Morales x BlackFem!Reader Ingredients: sugar, kisses, n a lil bit of smiles! TWs: N word usage, cussing, n thats it! W/C: 1.1k A/N: A lovely lovely request I got! Tysmm♡

For the past week or so, you and the girls in your friend group have been planning a secret spa trip for you and the boys! You had especially agreed considering how tense and stressed your boyfriend, Miles, had seemed to be. Even during the wee hours of the morning or the weekend, he always seemed to be a little stressed out about something you didn't quite know about. So here you are, sprawled out on the couch on the phone with Dior. "Nah yeah, we'll be able to make it there don't worry." You whispered into the phone. "Just get yourself dolled up n focus on bringing the other guys, aight?"

"Already done! The girlies already fooled they asses so they'll be meetin' us down at Tierra's house!" she laughed. "Aight girl lemme call you back. I gotta get ready." She blew a faux kiss to the phone that I reciprocated almost instantly. "Bye boo!" I giggled before running back up to my room. I stopped at the door to calm my giggles, before entering and making direct eye contact with Miles. "C'mon, get ready we finna go walk to this new shoe store that just opened" you lied, but he didn't really need to know that. "We're gonna go with gang n them."

You got ready in your room as Miles patiently waited for you downstairs, seeming a little more giddy than his normal stoic personality. "Mami!" He shouted from the bottom of the stairs. "Yeah, Miles?" you answered as you slipped your shoes on, stumbling slightly down the hallway. "What kind of shoes they got there?" he asked as he held out his hand to help you down the stairs. "Uhh, sneakers? Y'know, Nike, Puma, Adidas. That kind of stuff?" You shrugged as you grabbed your bag and a plush headband from the coffee table. You kind of felt bad for lying, but he wouldn't be mad at a little bit of self-care, right?

When you all got to Tierra's house, you opened the door and joined the cluster of giggling girls as Miles made his way over to the boys who were discussing the types of shoes they'd get when they got to the store. You all confirmed the reservations before rounding each other up and setting off for the spa. It wasn't really a long walk, so when you arrived Miles immediately asked what was happening. "Princesa, ¿dónde estamos?" He asked as he shuffled behind you and snaked both arms around your waist. "Alright, don't get mad at me but...I kinda lied..." you sighed.

"Whatchu mean ma? We not getting sneakers?" he asked as you all walked into the spa, confused murmurs coming from the male half of the group. "Nah, we're not. I wanted to take you to a spa! I'm sorry my love, please don't be upset or nothin'" you pouted as you placed a series of kisses on his face. "Could never be mad at you, Mami. But if you wanted to go with me you could've asked" he chuckled briefly. "I know my love, 'm sorry. Just had to get you down here without you knowing." You shrugged as you made your way to the dressing rooms, exchanging your initial outfits for fluffy heated robes and swimsuits. You watched as the rest of the group emerged in the ivory robes, pure comfort donning their faces as the group decided what they wanted to do first.

Since nobody could actually agree, you all broke apart and went to different stations, but agreed to meet up at a certain time to be in the hot springs. "Alright, so we can get like massages, there's a mud bath, there's a sauna-" You began to list the various stations before Miles's expression caught you off guard. "Stop stop stop, what the fuck is a mud bath nigga?" he muttered with a look of disgust. You laugh loudly, immediately deciding that that would be the first place you drag him to. "I'll show you! C'mon, guapo." You giggled as you dragged him to a room with beige tiled floors and individual little "baths" filled with mud.

Miles gave the most unamused glare of all time, sighing loudly with a deep scowl. "This mud touches my braids and erbody dyin'" he spat as he slowly sank down into the mud, cringing and gagging with each slow movement. "What the hell is this supposed to do anyway?" He barked as he shifted uncomfortably in the mud. "It eases your muscles, exfoliates your skin, and kinda works like a vitamin for your body I guess" I shrug as I lower myself down into the small tub, slinging my plastic bonnet on my head because I'll be damned if I let that bullshit touch my hair either. We stayed there for about 5 minutes before Miles just couldn't take it anymore and hopped to. "Yeah nah, Ion fuck with this mud shit..." he huffed as he rinsed himself off in the nearby shower. You giggled as he eagerly scraped the rest of the mud off his hands and retched silently as he turned off the water. "Next station."

You moved on to the sauna, both of you shuffling into sauna C and setting the time for roughly 20 minutes before closing the door behind the two of you. "I think I've been in one of these once...it was a lil while back though," he recalled as he wrapped both ends of his towel around the back of his neck. And DAMN did he look attractive. Sometimes you forgot how lean and toned his torso was, with each individual scar decorating his neck and shoulders. Jesus Christ you fucking won. "You don't even know how fine you are," I pouted as I rolled my eyes, "Like that shit ain't even fair..."

Miles laughed loudly, throwing his head back and giving you a kiss on your cheek. "The G in Miles G. Morales stands for game," he shrugged, "I'm just him." You gave him a sharp glare before giggling quietly. "Yeah, yeah, shut yo ass up." You panted as the room began filling with steam. He chuckled lowly as he leaned back on the wall and closed his eyes in bliss. When the 20 minutes were over, you both emerged feeling drowsy and like you were just cooked alive. "It's almost time to go and meet the others at the hot springs, c'mon."

You both shuffled in your fluffy robes in the direction of the pool area, being greeted with a massive hot spring and pool. You watched as your friends attempted to drown each other in the water, giggling and shouting at each other like the teenagers that you were. You ran in and joined, tackling Tierra with a splash and a fit of giggles. Nobody was mad, and everyone had an amazing time! You even actually went to the shoe store afterward, so you'd consider today a win.

[babygirlz-world]

Patrick Hockstetter NSFW ABC

A- after care(what they're like after sex)

Because of his issues, like where he thinks he's the only real person, he was never into aftercare. Until he found out you were like him. He was thinking that you and him were the only real people and he wasn't alone. So he wanted to protect you and take care of you

B- body part (his favorite body part of yours and your favorite body part of his)

He loves your hips. Even if he likes to protect you he's always rough with your hips. He burns them and cuts them whenever he feels like you deserve it (which is whenever the wounds heal or he's bored) when with the gang your always in his lap and his hands are on your hips.

You love his stomach. He let's you draw on his stomach and chest when your alone. Usually your by the quarry or in your backyard while your parents are out.

C- Cum (anything to do with Cum)

He loves covering you with his cum. He knows that neither or you are ready for kids but he so badly wants to Cum inside you so he uses a condom a lot of the time

D- Dirty secret (something he's secretly into but won't tell anyone)

He used to stalk you from time to time in middle school and start of high school until Victor invited you to the gang

E- Experience (what kind of experience does he have from before you got together)

There wasn't much loving experience in him. There was sexual experience from small hookups from before you got together

F- Favorite position (what position does he love you in)

He loves you riding him because 1) he doesn't have to do much 2) you always look amazing when you do

G- Goofy (how Goofy or serious is he in bed)

He was never very vocal during sex but more recently he started joking about kids

H- Hair (does the carpet match the drapes and how well groomed is he)

Same color. And he's very well groomed

I- Intimacy (how intimate is he during sex)

He usually it very rough buy sometimes if he knows you had a bad day he'll do everything in his heart to make you feel good

J- Jerk off (masturbation headcanon)

He stole a couple pairs on your panties to jerk off to. He'll jerk off under the blanket while you guys watch movies in the living room

K- Kink (the kinks you and him have)

Hot wax(as mentioned in another post of mine) and a knife kink

L- Location (where does he love having sex with you)

Your bedroom when your parents are in their room or the living room

M- Motivation (what kind of stuff gets him off. And what does he do to make you needy)

Seeing you with any guy. It makes him go crazy.

All he has to do with you is hold your neck while looking down at you

N- No (things he refuses to do with you)

He refuses to fuck you while your crying or injured. When you broke your leg because Henry brought you into a fight he didn't fuck you or eat you out. He took care of you and cuddled you making sure your leg was ok

O- Oral (how does he feel about oral)

He loves seeing your face while eating you out and watching you suck him off so oral is his go to before sex

P- Pace (how fast does he go with you)

He's fast and rough which is something you've gotten used to

Q- Quickie (how does he feel about quickies)

He loves quickies at school or in the woods or near the mini fridge

R- Risk (what kind of risks is he willing to take)

Public sex turns him on so much so he doesn't care is someone sees

S- stamina (how is his stamina)

He could go for hours if you wanted

T- Toy (does he have or like to use any toys when with you)

He doesn't have any toys but has said that if you wanted to use toys he'd be ok with it

U- Unfair (how much does he tease you)

He teases you all the time around the gang. He loves seeing how embarrassed you get around the boys

V- Volume (how loud is he during sex)

He wasn't very vocal but he likes to sweet talk you sometimes

W- Wildcard (random headcanon)

He would love to watch you and Victor go at it. He knows Victor is your best friend and that he had a massive crush on you before you and Patrick got together and never really got over it. As long as it was someone he knew he didn't mind sharing you

X- X Ray (how big is he down there)

You know that stereotype that skinny guys have big dicks. Well it's more than true for Patrick

Y- Yearning (how high is his sex drive)

He wants to fuck you every second of the day

Z- Zzz (how quickly does he fall asleep afterwards)

He always makes sure your asleep before he goes to bed

[illubean]

can i request a chrollo x reader where reader was one of his childhood friends back in meteor city, but she died (up to you how!) and he still dreams about her? possibly her appearance being grown to what chrollo imagines she’d look like now? only if you’re comfortable with the request ♡ i love your writing so much!

Remembrance

Characters: Chrollo Lucilfer Type: Angst, Oneshot, Fem!Reader

reader is basically Sarasa here...

Warnings: mentions of kidnapping?/death, description of a dead body, spoilers for Chrollo's background

Not a day goes by where Chrollo doesn't think about you.

You two were as thick as thieves, growing up together in the slums of Meteor City. Though you guys had nothing, you always managed to find ways to have fun and stay happy. Your beaming, bright smile is something that's stuck in the back of Chrollo's mind for all of these years. You used to stand up to the bigger kids who liked to pick on him, and in turn Chrollo helped you learn how to read and write.

Once you guys got a little older, Chrollo had started his little acting troupe, you being there to support him every step of the way. Though you weren't formally part of the group, you would tag along with them and managed to become good friends with the rest of them. One of the things Chrollo liked most about you was how kind you were. You were the sweetest girl anyone could possibly have the pleasure of meeting and he loved that about you.

Which is why he was infuriated after finding out what happened to you.

It wasn't unusual for child traffickers to make their way through meteor city, especially considering that none of it's residents have any sort of legal documentation. They just so happened to be passing through while you were exploring on your own. Being the ever naive little girl you were, you didn't think much when some men claiming to be refugees stopped you and asked for directions to the nearest normal city.

Out of the kindness of your heart, you led them to the outskirts of a forest and told them that the fastest way to modern civilization was to cut through it.

Your best quality ended up being your biggest weakness that day.

After catching wind of your disappearance, Chrollo and the troupe split up in order to try and find you. They searched the forest for hours and when they had finally found you, Chrollo's heart dropped to his ass. Your body was laying beneath a large willow tree, nearly mutilated beyond recognition while your lifeless eyes stared back at him, glazed over. Never in his life has Chrollo felt so many emotions at once the way he did in that moment.

In the years following your passing, Chrollo frequently had dreams of you. The pain they brought him left him restless. Even up until he had a hard time sleeping in fear of reliving those memories of you again.

After some time had passed, Chrollo became the renowned leader of the notorious gang The Phantom Troupe. Though the night terrors of you had stopped some time ago, Chrollo never forgot you. How could he? You meant everything to him.

Every so often he would visit your grave with a few of the original troupe members. Other times he would visit alone and tell you all about what has happened since you've been gone.

It wasn't up until recently had the dreams of you resurfaced, but this time they were different. They didn't bring immense pain or remind him of how you looked the day he found you dead, but rather images of what could've been had you survived. You appeared in his dreams all grown up, being much taller than you were before with h/c hair that was longer/shorter than he remembered. Many things about your appearance had changed, but one thing that stayed the same was your bright smile you'd always seemed to wear.

Upon having this dream for the first time Chrollo shot up from his slumber in a cold sweat. He looked around the room before bringing his hands to his face, resting his head in them as he let out a deep sigh. Knowing he couldn't return to sleep any time soon, Chrollo stepped out of the room of the hotel he'd rented onto the balcony, lighting a cigarette and leaning against the railing. He enjoyed the light breeze and sounds of the city beneath him, looking out over all the bright lights and night bustle.

His moment of peace was brief however, being interrupted by a voice he'd never heard before.

"I've missed you, Chrollo."

The addressed man whipped his head around in shock, only to see that there was no one behind him. Letting out another sigh, he rubbed his eyes and put his cigarette out before returning to his room, pondering on how he would spend the rest of his night.

The next few times he had these dreams they had only gotten worse. They would show him what could've been. The life he could've had. What you could've had. Who you could've been.

You, you, you, you, you.

It was driving him mad. Tonight like any other, Chrollo lied restless, staring towards the ceiling. The soft pitter patter of rain soothed him as he started to relax. Until he heard the voice again.

"Look, we're all grown up."

Similar to the first night he shot up from the bed he was in, eyes frantically scanning the room before resting on the image of you his brain had created, standing in the corner of the darkened room. Chrollo rubbed his eyes before staring at you again before you spoke up once more.

"How have you been?"

Chrollo grit his teeth before chucking his pillow at you, only for your image to disappear as it made contact with the wall. Letting out a grunt, his tensed shoulders went slack just to stiffen back up at the sound of you again.

"What is it you're afraid of Chrollo?"

You appeared in the center of the room this time, closer than before.

"Didn't you miss me?"

Tearing the blanket off of himself he reaches to grab you only for you to disappear and reappear again, this time directly behind him. This went on for a few minutes, you appearing, Chrollo trying to hit you, just for you to disappear and move to another part of the room.

"GET OUT OF MY HEAD!"

With this demand Chrollo was now in the center of the room, looking towards the floor, distressed. The silence in the room was disrupted by nothing by the sound of his heavy breathing for a few moments, until you appeared before him one last time, being directly in front of him.

"I love you, Chrollo."

The man shot his fist towards where your face would be, only to hit nothing before he stormed out of the room. He ran through the rain for hours, with no destination in mind. He had hoped to escape his own thoughts and hallucinations this way, only for his feet to have managed to lead him back to that same willow tree.

Chrollo dropped to his knees as his tears mixed with the water droplets of the passing storm. In front of him stood a tattered wooden cross that had been stabbed into the dirt, which in messy carvings read

In remembrance of Y/n

[buccini555]

— 𝐃𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐡 𝟐

︵͡ ⁺ 𝟎.𝟏 — 𝐃𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐡

︵͡ ⁺ 𝟎.𝟏 — 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐝𝐫𝐮𝐧𝐤𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬

౨ৎ . You ended up having an argument and after they said something rude to you, you left and during the night they found you drinking in a bar with someone else

✧ 𝅄 ׁ ˳ H e a d c a n o n s !!

⁀➴ 𝑭𝒕. Ran Haitani, Sanzu Haruchiyo, Kakucho Hitto, Manjiro Sano, Kazutora Hanemiya and Takeomi Akashi

tw: alcohol citation, alcohol abuse, fights with insults, excessive jealousy, offensive words

𝐑𝐚𝐧 𝐇𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐢

"What the hell is wrong with you? Shut the fuck up, please, you are so fuking boring, girl." Ran didn't like wasting his time on silly arguments, so he just behaved as coldly as possible, after getting tired of his attitudes, that night you went alone to a bar you used to frequent, so as not to waste your night, you asked some drinks.

After a few drinks, you were already high enough, when unexpectedly Ran finally found you, as soon as he saw you talking to a guy who by an unfortunate coincidence, belonged to a rival gang, at the same moment the tallest one went to get you, dragging you out of that bar.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing? Shit! Don't you get tired of giving me disappointments?" Ran said while holding you, then taking you to your house and taking care of you throughout the night.

𝐒𝐚𝐧𝐳𝐮 𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐲𝐨

"You don't love anyone but yourself, you know how I feel? What the fuck!" Sanzu told you in the middle of the worst argument you and him had, getting up from that bar table and leaving, leaving you completely shaken, but, to simply not waste that night, you made the decision to order some drinks, just to calm down .

After a few bottles, you knew you had exceeded your limits, when without waiting, Sanzu returned to the place, as soon as he returned, he saw you still drinking, but to make matters worse, you were talking to one of the bosses of one of the city's gangs, Haruchiyo took a deep breath and patiently took you out of that place.

"...When you're behaving like a fucking decent person, we'll talk." Sanzu said, taking you home and making sure you were okay.

𝐊𝐚𝐤𝐮𝐜𝐡𝐨 𝐇𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐨

"Sometimes I just can't deal with you!" Kakucho definitely did his best to avoid arguments, but at that moment, he simply couldn't contain his words, it honestly hurt you, despite that, you wouldn't end your night, for that reason, he went to one of the bars that were close to your house.

After a few drinks, you were almost completely out of it, after spending a few hours looking for you, when Kakucho finally found you, you were sitting next to one of the members of one of the most dangerous gangs in the city, as soon as he saw you, Kakucho didn't hesitate to pick you up.

He remained completely silent the entire ride home, staying up all night taking care of you until you got better.

𝐌𝐚𝐧𝐣𝐢𝐫𝐨 𝐒𝐚𝐧𝐨

"I don't want to hear your voice anymore, don't you understand what I'm saying, stupid bitch?" At the height of that argument, you no longer wanted to hear him, so you just left, during the night in search of distraction, you went to one of the bars in the city, ordering some drinks.

After a few hours, you were already completely drunk, not caring about anything, when suddenly, Manjiro just walked through that door, as soon as he saw you with another guy, he definitely didn't think twice before taking you away.

"I really can't leave you alone for a second, can I?" He said as he carried you home, spending the night trying to at least take care of you.

𝐊𝐚𝐳𝐮𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐚 𝐇𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐲𝐚

"If I knew our shitty relationship was going to be hell, I would never wish I had met you." Kazutora said, being as cold as he could be, making you leave that night, despite that, you didn't want to just waste that moment, so, you went to a bar near your house.

Soon, after a few good drinks, you were already drunk enough when Kazutora showed up to get you out of that unhealthy place, realizing that you were drinking with one of the bosses of a rival gang, making him take you away at the same time.

"...I wonder if you don't think so, do you? I should never have said those things, but what the hell!" He said as he took you home, Kazutora would remain by your side throughout the night.

𝐓𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐨𝐦𝐢 𝐀𝐤𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐢

"Stop behaving like you mean something to me, you're nothing but a stupid doll to me." Was all he said before you left, Takeomi was really going to ruin your night, but in order not to waste any more time, you just went to have fun at a bar near your house.

After drinking more than you could, Takeomi felt sorry and went to look for you, but as soon as he arrived at the place, he saw you talking to a member of another gang, he immediately dragged you out of the bar by your arm, making as big a fuss as possible.

"You're nothing but stupid! I should leave you there." Takeomi said as he made you walk, taking you home and staying by your side throughout the night complaining about your behavior.

[blazingstar400]

Incorrect Scarlet and Violet Quotes Part 5

Part 5 of scarlet and violet incorrect quotes let’s gooooo!!!

Juliana: I’ve done a lot of dumb stuff.

Kieran: I witnessed the dumb stuff.

Penny: I recorded the dumb stuff.

Nemona: I joined in on the dumb stuff.

Arven: I TRIED TO STOP YOU FROM DOING THE DUMB STUFF!!!

Lacey: Truth or dare?

Kieran: Truth.

Lacey: How many hours have you slept this week?

Kieran:

Kieran: Dare.

Lacey: Go to sleep.

Kieran: I don’t like this game.

Juliana: Hello friends!

The sv gang:

Juliana: You might be wondering why I’m taped to the ceiling—

Penny: Ok, maybe playing ‘whose family is most dysfunctional’ wasn’t the best idea we’ve had. Arven’s been crying in the bathroom for an hour. We can’t get him out…

Penny: I have a science headcanon.

Florian: Can’t you just say you have a hypothesis like a normal person?

Penny: …

Penny: So my science headcanon is—

Koraidon: Pretty cool Halloween decorations! Where’d you get all the fake skeletons? :D

Miraidon: …Fake?

Nemona, holding an Ekans: Guys I impulsively stole a snake, what do I name him?

Arven: You did WHAT–

Juliana: William Snakespeare!

Penny: Time for plan G.

Nemona: Don’t you mean plan B?

Penny: No, we tried plan B a long time ago. I had to skip over plan C due to technical difficulties.

Juliana: What about plan D?

Penny: Plan D was that desperate disguise attempt half an hour ago.

Carmine: What about plan E?

Penny: I’m hoping not to use it. Drayton dies in plan E.

Kieran: I like plan E.

Koraidon: Are we going to a sandwich shop?!

Ogerpon: No! We just ate, and besides it’s nighttime! Sandwich shops are closed.

Okidogi: So we’re gonna ROB a sandwich shop?!?!

Ogerpon, sighing: No—

Kieran: What's it like seeing Juliana everyday and being really close friends with her?

Penny: Well, this one time Juliana ate an entire bag of 50 pizza rolls.

Penny: She then asked Arven what he was making us for dinner.

[Clavell being called into a meeting at Director Cyrano’s office with Juliana, Florian, Nemona, Penny, Arven, Carmine, and Kieran]

Clavell, pacing around and staring at the sv gang: Why is it whenever a problem arises or gets resolved it’s always by you seven?!

Juliana: I’m just as confused as you are.

Florian: Sometimes I wonder how we’re still alive.

Kieran: Love makes people do stupid things.

Juliana, beaming: I love everything!

Kieran: That explains a lot.

Kieran and Juliana: *physically fighting each other as the crowd chants ‘Fight! Fight! Fight!’ around them*

Carmine, pushing her way through the crowd: This isn’t what I meant by ‘expressing your feelings!!!’

I headcanon Koraidon being the kinder, lovable, sandwich-loving legendary while Miraidon is the more violent one. Also Juliana is the one who has Koraidon while Florian has Miraidon. Florian didn’t fully except Miraidon into his team though until the legendary became less violent.