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ahotmesswithprivilege · 5 days ago

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Ocean Eyes

paring: Bob Floyd x female!bartender!reader

wordcount: 2642 (scandalously short for me, I know)

prompt: “It’s like you never really see me. I’m standing right in front of you and you don’t see me!” requested by @gretagerwigsmuse (I am sorry this took so long. I hope it was worth the wait)

note: I couldn't write so I started cleaning up my WIP folder and I found this. I forgot that it was practically done and so I thought, let's share my Bob debut with the world. I hope you'll enjoy it.

Trigger Warning(If I forgot something or you want me to add to the list, my inbox is wide open. You are responsible for your media consumption, so proceed with caution, you know the drill): none, I think. Unless you consider canon Hangster one. Also idiots in love.

|| Masterlist ||

divider by @sweetmelodygraphics banner by @firefly-graphics

Reblogs, comments and constructive criticism are always welcome

!!!Minors do not interact; empty/ageless/minors will get blocked!!!

You love Bob Floyd. It’s pretty obvious to anyone who has eyes. At least that’s what you always hear from your best friend and yet he showed never any interest in you at all. There is a part of you that realises that this could only mean one thing but acknowledging the hard truth would hurt more than anything. So you ignore it and keep living in the blissful illusion that maybe one day Lieutenant Robert Floyd will wake up and finally see you.

That is until tonight when that hope should be shattered for good. The night at the Hard Deck when you are dealt the final blow.

“Is that Baby on Board in that booth? Flirting with a woman?”, Hangman is leaning against the bar waiting for you to get a fresh round of drinks ready. The question is directed at Rooster to his right and your gaze follows his and you see Bob sitting in a booth with an absolutely gorgeous redhead.

“Yeah. Phoenix set him up with her old college friend”, Rooster answers, giving you that kind of cautious look that he always sent your way whenever he thought you were in a fragile state and could implode any second. And as if to justify his worries you slam their beers down a little harder than intended and when your gaze meets his, all you see is pity in his pretty brown eyes.

“Rooster”, your voice is barely there, more a growl rumbling in your chest than anything else. It's a warning for your best friend to keep his fucking mouth shut and leave you be.

Not that it would help.

It's something you both love and hate about Bradley Bradshaw. He was not someone who gave up on people. No, he stayed even when shit got hard and you knew he'd be right there by your side through it all, holding your hand and keeping you close because that's just who he is.

And considering the look you get from his worse half, you know the same is true for him. The irony that fucking Jake Seresin would one day be one of your best friends was not lost on you. Especially considering how the two of you started off, but having Hangman cover your back was apparently a perk that came with being Rooster's best friend.

"Don't"

But Brad just lifts his hands in surrender and then they head over to the pool tables where the others are already waiting for them, leaving you behind the bar with the feeling that the shards of your shattered heart were just digging deeper into your flesh with every breath.

“Hey, sunshine”, your head snaps to the side and there you see him sitting at the end of the bar smiling at you the way he always did. The way that made your heart skip a beat and you hated that fucking traitor of an organ. And then your brain intercepts and reminds you of the images of last night. The way she had her hands all over him, turning him into a blushing mess as they stumbled out of the bar.

You have to shake your head or you'd lose focus and you cannot afford that. Not on a Saturday night.

It's not like you need to wait for him to order something, you know it all by heart, so you set his usual virgin drink in front of him and put some nuts in a bowl. Both containers are hitting the bartop a tad bit harder than necessary and before he could get another word in you were already gone.

Your behaviour took him off guard. His eyes are still following you when you already busied yourself with the order of another patron at the other end of the bar as if you wanted to get as much space between you and him as you physically could and he couldn't help the unsettling feeling that crept up on him.

This was so not you. There's a reason why they call you sunshine and that's not just because Rooster introduced you like that. You were always sweet and kind and won over the position of the patron’s favourite from Penny within the first week. You always had a lovely smile on your lips and a nice comment for everyone.

But the thing he had always liked most about you was how protective you were, looking out for the people around you. You were just the kind of person who truly cared and didn't just turn it into a performance.

The longer you are lingering on the other end of the bar without giving him even as much of a glace the more uneasy he becomes ultimately deciding to pick up his things and make his way over to the quiet corner by the pool tables that had been dubbed his even back during his Top Gun time. And from over there he has the perfect view of the bar without the hustle and bustle that would only distract from his actual mission. Figure out what was wrong with you.

You seemed tense and your interactions were colder than usual even with people that he knew you loved to bits.

Dave, one of the veterans who frequented the bar had made it a habit to propose to you whenever he saw you. It was a running gag between the two of you but even he couldn't bring an honest smile to your face.

That sure as hell was a first.

Maybe something happened?

Had someone hurt you?

Or did something happen with your family?

The best way to find out was to talk to Rooster.

He was your best friend after all and if someone knew what was going on, then it would be him.

So, Bob waited patiently until he took a break from the pool game before approaching him.

“Is something wrong with sunshine?”

Rooster arches his brow at the question, stops drinking mid-swig and puts his bottle back down.

“What should be wrong with her?”

Bob tilts his head while he studies the other's features.

He couldn't be serious about that question. Rooster always claimed to know you best of them all and he honest-to-goodness wanted to tell Bob he didn't see what was going on.

“She’s curt and tense. She didn’t even smile at Dave's proposal”

Rooster’s brow arched even more.

God for someone as observant as Robert fucking Floyd he was pretty goddamn blind when it came to you.

“Even if there was something it wouldn't be my story to tell”, he raises his bottle back up and takes a sip of his beer, watching Bob’s mind running 100 miles an hour while he tried to figure out how to proceed.

“If you wanna know what’s going on there is a simple solution”, he prompts him. He had sworn to keep his mouth shut about your feelings for Bob but helping him figure it out on his own was not breaking that promise.

At least not in his book.

“And that would be?”

“Fucking ask her, Baby on board”

Jake groaned over from the pool table and rolled his eyes.

He was so done with this kindergarten bullshit. Watching you and Bob was worse than his dance with Rooster pre-uranium mission and he knew they had been unbearable to watch.

His boyfriend shoots Hangman an angry look as if to remind him of their promise but he just rolls his eyes and sighs.

Hangman likes you, a lot. Some might even go so far as to say he loves you. Very much platonic but it's love nonetheless.

You were a major part of Rooster’s life and therefore you became a fixture in his and if he had to listen to you crying yourself to sleep one more goddamn night over fucking Baby on Board then he’d be the one going on a bloody rampage.

So Jake stalked over to Bob and stared him right in his blue eyes, his green gaze cutting like a knife.

“That wasn’t a suggestion Floyd”, he growled, nodding over to where you handed out drinks at the bar, doing everything within your power to not look their way.

Bob had no idea why the other ganged up on him like that but he couldn’t remember the last time Hangman had been this mad. With his gaze flittering between the two men and you at the bar he decided it was indeed probably smartest to talk to you as soon as possible.

“Can you please get a box of whiskey from storage?”, you barely hear Penny’s voice over the constant chatter of the bar and the music coming from the jukebox when she hands you the key.

You had tried to keep your brain busy all night and lucky for you, the Saturday had provided you with enough to do to grant yourself a small reprieve from the pain that had settled in what was left of your heart after last night.

You nod at Penny and weave through the crowd in front of the bar, attempting to smile at the patrons that greeted you but you knew that this was just a facade and considering the many concerned looks, they knew too.

When you finally got to unlock the door of the storage closet stepping inside and pulling the door closed behind you as you were heaving a sigh the muffled sounds of the bar were still echoing in your ear. You loved this place and the Hard Deck had always felt more like home than the house you shared with Rooster and Hangman. You close your eyes and take a deep breath. The air was stuffy and full of dust but it was the closest to a break you could get just about now.

That was until the sudden creaking of the door made your heart rate pick up.

"This is for staff only", your eyes are wandering around to find something to use as a makeshift weapon just in case one of the guys got so drunk he forgot his manners and basic human decency. You find a large vodka bottle, pick it up from the shelf as you turn around, almost dropping it when you are met with blue eyes.

"Fuck Bob, you scared me", you place your free hand over your heart, putting the Vodka bottle on a small table.

"I'm sorry, sunshine", your eyes wander over him and it's only then that you see how he's not really daring to look into your eyes and he's fidgeting with his hands.

"What are you doing back here Bob?", you are crossing your arms over your chest and take another step back from him, almost making you hit the shelves full of liquor behind you.

He had never seen you so distanced and borderline standoffish around any of the daggers. You were someone who needed to be close, someone who thrived on touch and physical forms of affection, but you were fleeing from him and he couldn't have imagined something as simple as a step back to hurt that bad.

"I... I was wondering...", he started and then you were the third person today looking at him with an arched eyebrow and he felt like a first grader who's supposed to take his SAT.

"What were you wondering?", you said, the tense edge still audible in your voice sent a shiver down his spine.

Bob had never met this cold version of you and he hated every second of it. He loved your warmth, the way you were lighting up even the darkest room. You were the embodiment of a sweet summer day, full of sunshine and blooming flowers with enough of a breeze to make it perfect but right now you rivalled the worst arctic winter.

"Why are you so cold with everyone?"

"I am not"

"Of course you are. You didn't even smile at Dave's proposal", he sees the way your eyes get wider for only a moment before you put that facade back in place. So the real you was hiding somewhere behind that mask you put on.

"Yes I did"

"No, you didn't. Not for real"

The fact he had actually noticed took you by surprise, but the dull ache in your chest reminded you that just because he happened to notice one thing today it didn't mean that anything changed.

The silence hanging between the two of you was deafening and the longer it lasted the more nervous Bob got.

You two had never had an issue with talking. You were probably the one person he always felt like he could talk to even if he didn't feel like interacting with anyone else. But now it felt like you were two ships in the night, drifting farther and farther away apart.

"Please. I just want to...", his voice sounds pleading and the way he reaches his hand out for you prompts you to take another step back. You cannot handle his touch, that much you know but in your desperate attempt to keep the tears from running down your cheeks you forget that you have a mouth too.

“It’s like you never really see me", the words are spilling from your lips before you even realise it, hands flying to your mouth to stop yourself. The tears that were pricking at your lashline before began to run down your cheek when you see the way his eyes widen mouth opening and closing a few times before he finally finds his voice again.

"There hasn't been a single day when I didn't"

You force your eyes shut to stop the tears from running, shaking your head as you hear him take step after step closer into your space and crowd you against the shelves.

"I don't think I couldn't"

"Then why does it feel like I’m standing right in front of you. and you don’t see me?”, your voice is small and quiet, almost drowned out by the muffled sounds from the bar but once they sink in, Bob's eyes are darting all over your face, trying to figure out what you truly meant.

You open your eyes, tears still glittering as you look up at him. He sees so many emotions swirl in them ranging from pain and fear to something softer. Something he never dared to dream of finding in your eyes when you looked at him. And then he caught your eyes wandering from his to his lips and back up.

It was not much more than a flicker, something easily missed if he had blinked at the wrong moment.

"I always see you, sunshine", his voice is soft as he takes another step closer and leans down, slow and cautious as if he's trying to gauge if he had gotten what you implied right, but you stayed frozen in your place, closing your eyes again until you feel his nose brushing against yours and your foreheads touching.

"And what about last night?", you feel like you are caught up in a dream, fearing the moment your alarm would go off and you'd have to get up and back to a reality where Bob dated someone else and you were damned to only stand there and watch.

"Jolene is nice but all she's ever seen is the uniform and the glasses. She never bothered to really look at me. She didn't see me", he lifts his hands and rests them on your cheeks, thumbs gently caressing your skin as his eyes search yours for any sign that you do not want this.

"Not the way you did when we first met", you feel like you are getting lost in the endless blue of his ocean eyes, warm breath fanning over your face as you lean in to kiss him.

reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated as always

If you want to read more you can find my masterlist here

#robert floyd x reader #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd x you #robert floyd x you #bob floyd fanfiction #top gun fanfiction #my writing

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memorabxlia · 1 month ago

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Silent Cry ━ 여상

genre: hurt/comfort summary: will you be saved in enough time? warnings: attempted suicide, mental health topics, harassment, bullying, insecurity, mentions depression pairing: idol!yeosang x fem!reader wc: 1.3k a/n: this fic is not for the faint-hearted. If any of the topics above are triggering for you, I highly recommend not reading this. However, if you choose to proceed, you are reading at your own risk. nets: @blossomnet @k-labels @k-films

"You know, the others can't stop talking about you." Yeosang's voice is soft, tender, the way it always is when the two of you are alone. You're curled up next to him on the couch in your shared home, his arm draped over your shoulders as you rest your head on his chest. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat is calming, like a lullaby.

You smile at his words, though the weight on your chest doesn't lift. The members—Wooyoung, San, Seonghwa, Mingi, all of them—have been nothing but kind to you since you started dating Yeosang. They treat you like family, as if you've been part of their lives for years. But no matter how much they adore you, how many times they assure you that you're loved and welcome, it doesn't change the fact that a different kind of attention lingers on the edges of your happiness.

The fans.

You scroll through the comments more often than you should. It's hard not to. Every post, every picture of you with Yeosang, is flooded with messages. Some supportive, but too many are venomous.

_"You don't deserve him."_

_"He could do better."_

_"She's not even that pretty. He should be with someone skinnier."_

The words sting, no matter how many times you tell yourself they don't. And it's not just the comments. They've started leaking into your private messages, too. Fans telling you to end it, to let Yeosang go so he can be with someone they think is worthy of him. Sometimes, they even threaten you. Not directly, but in the veiled way that makes your skin crawl.

You haven't told Yeosang about it. You don't want to burden him. He's already got so much on his plate with the group, the fans, the media. You don't want to add to that.

But it's getting harder to ignore.

"Hey," Yeosang's voice pulls you from your thoughts. "Are you okay? You've been really quiet."

You tilt your head up to look at him, his dark eyes full of concern. You hate that look. It makes you feel like you're worrying him, like you're dragging him down into your mess. You force a smile.

"I'm fine," you lie, and he doesn't seem convinced.

"Are you sure?" he presses, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. "You know you can talk to me, right?"

"I know," you mumble, sitting up a little. You look down at your phone, your fingers itching to open the messages you've been ignoring all day. You don't, though. Not while he's watching. "I'm just tired."

He watches you for a moment longer, clearly not buying your excuse, but he doesn't push. Instead, he shifts, wrapping his arms around you again and pulling you closer.

"If you're tired, let's go to bed," he suggests softly, his breath warm against your skin. "We can talk tomorrow."

You nod, even though you know you won't sleep. Your mind will race all night, replaying every hurtful comment, every cruel message, until you feel like you're suffocating.

The next day is worse. You wake up to more messages, more hateful words. You can't escape it. No matter how much you try to stay off social media, it's like the negativity follows you. You start to wonder if they're right. Maybe Yeosang would be better off without you. Maybe he deserves someone prettier, skinnier, someone who fits the image the fans have in their heads.

You try to brush it off, but by midday, it's too much. You can't keep pretending everything's fine.

So you send Yeosang a text.

*I love you. I just want to say thank you for everything. For all the love you've shown me.*

You stare at the message for a long time before hitting send. You don't know what you expect him to say, but it doesn't matter. You just need to tell him. You need him to know how much you appreciate him, even if things fall apart.

When Yeosang reads the message, it immediately sets off alarms in his head. He knows you. He knows when something isn't right, and this—this message feels like a goodbye. He doesn't bother replying. Instead, he rushes out of the practice room, ignoring the confused looks from the other members, and drives as fast as he can to your shared home.

You're standing on the edge of the balcony when he bursts through the door, your hands gripping the railing so tightly your knuckles turn white.

"Don't," you say, your voice shaking as you hear him approach. "Don't come any closer."

Yeosang freezes, his heart pounding in his chest. He's never seen you like this—so broken, so fragile. He doesn't know what to do, but he knows he can't lose you.

"Please," he whispers, his voice cracking as he takes a cautious step forward. "Just come down, okay? We can talk. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere."

"You don't understand," you choke out, your vision blurred by tears. "I can't do this anymore. The fans—they hate me. They hate me, and I can't take it. I'm ruining everything for you."

Yeosang's eyes widen in horror. The fans? This is because of them?

"You're not ruining anything," he insists, his voice stronger now, desperate. "I love you. You, not them. Don't listen to them, please. Just... step down. We'll figure it out together, I swear."

You shake your head, the tears spilling over. "I can't..."

Yeosang tries to move closer, but he stumbles, tripping over his own feet in his haste. The sudden motion startles you, and before you realize what's happening, your foot slips, and you're tumbling over the edge.

But before the ground can meet you, strong arms catch you.

"Mingi!" Yeosang's voice is full of relief as he watches the taller member steady you in his arms. Mingi had followed Yeosang, concerned when he saw his friend's panic. He'd arrived just in time to catch you.

"You okay?" Mingi asks gently, his arms still around you as you tremble in his grasp.

You nod weakly, but you can't find the words to thank him. Your mind is still spinning, too overwhelmed by everything.

Yeosang rushes down to where you and Mingi are, his hands shaking as he reaches for you. "Thank you," he breathes, his voice cracking again as he takes you from Mingi's arms. "I'll—I'll thank you properly later, I promise."

Mingi just nods, giving you both a worried look before stepping back to give you space.

Yeosang holds you close as he leads you back inside your home, his arms wrapped tightly around you like he's afraid to let go. You sit down on the couch together, and for a long moment, neither of you say anything.

Finally, Yeosang speaks, his voice barely above a whisper. "Why?"

You can't look at him. You stare at your hands, your fingers trembling as you try to form the words. "It's... it's the fans," you mumble, your voice weak and broken. "They... they hate me. They keep saying I don't deserve you. That I'm not good enough, that I'm ruining everything for you."

Yeosang's heart shatters at your words. He pulls you closer, his arms wrapping around you protectively. "You're not ruining anything," he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. "I don't care what they say. You're the one I love. You're the one I want. No one else."

You try to respond, but the words catch in your throat, and all you can do is sob into his chest.

Yeosang holds you tighter, whispering soft reassurances, sweet nothings, until your breathing starts to slow, your sobs quieting.

"I'm sorry," you whisper, your voice barely audible.

"Don't apologize," he murmurs, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. "You have nothing to apologize for. I'm sorry. I should've seen how much this was hurting you."

You shake your head, but he doesn't let you argue. He just holds you, whispering that everything will be okay, that you're not alone, that he'll always be there.

Eventually, the exhaustion takes over, and you fall asleep in his arms, your head resting against his chest. Yeosang stays awake a little longer, his fingers brushing gently through your hair as he holds you close, vowing to protect you from the world, from the fans, from everything that tries to hurt you.

Because to him, you're all that matters.

❥﹒ ateez taglist: @minkilicious

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unholyhelbig · 1 year ago

Note

Around season 4: Skye/Daisy Johnson. Reader is a Winter Soldier like Bucky and has been part of the team since the beginning. Reader’s has always been there for the team especially Daisy, and has a huge crush on her, painfully watching on as she goes out with different people. Now the Reader needs help but doesn’t want it, what will Daisy and the team do?

Title: No Control (Daisy Johnson x Female!Reader)

Words: 2452

Trigger Warnings: Blood, mind control, manipulation, night terrors, talks of death, horrible grammar (Let me know if I should add more)

[A/n: Okay, I may have deviated from the prompt just a little bit, but in my defense, this is technically my first time writing Reader/Daisy Johnson so I had to feel it out a little!]

Main Masterlist | Read my stuff on AO3 | Leave Requests

The rope dug into your skin like a nasty row of teeth, biting at the skin, drawing a flourishing flash of bright blood. The image made you pull harder in a vicious tug of strength. Your jaw ached, tasted thick of metal. If you could just get out of this stupid chair, this horrible cell. It was much too small for your liking.

Quake, Daisy as you knew her, watched you with a lifted eyebrow. Her fingers were curled around the iPad that connected her to the controls of your containment. She grimaced, a wetness building in her stare.

When your struggle against the ropes had proved fruitless, you glanced up at her through wild, unkept hair, chest heaving. “What did you do to me? Why can’t I get out of this? Let me out of this!”

It felt like you were underwater, your chest heavy with discontent, even when you went slack in your binds. The first inkling that something was wrong had been swallowed down, the nightmares that ripped through your subconscious and pulled you from sleep.

For weeks, you’d wake up drenched in your own sweat as you tried to draw any type of air into your lungs. It often ended with you sitting, exhausted and scared, in the kitchen of the compound. First, you’d drink a cup of tea, then you’d pace and drink another, before finally succumbing to exhaustion on the common room sofa.

Agent May had found you the first night, just before dawn. She didn’t’ poke or prod, instead, she gently woke you and wordlessly gestured back towards your bunk. Other agents would be walking in and out, scourging for breakfast and their own fix of caffeine.

Those dreams- those nightmares- would soon leak into your everyday routine. As you sparred with Bobbie, you’d thrown a particularly deadly right hook. It was the color of her eyes, the seafoam dusty grey that you’d always found so endearing flashed and ripped into his gaze.

You’d drawn blood and stumbled back on the blue mat. Other recruits gaped at the two of you, floating by the edge of the training room. Bobbi pulled her fingers from the laceration on her cheek, already forming a bruise.

“I’m sorry,�� came your whispered response. You grabbed your bag from the nearby bench, louder this time “really, I’m sorry.”

Bobbi called after you as you pushed open the doors of the training room and shoved through agents until you made it to the safety of your room. Except, it didn’t’ feel much like safety anymore. Your fingers were shaking, and your knuckles had a smear of dried brown blood, Bobbi’s blood, against them.

It had been years, nearly a decade, since you’d first been approached by Phil Coulson with his grandiose idea of forming a team to take down hero-level threats within SHIELD, because after all, everyone needs a backup plan. And while you’d been hesitant at first, that single decision in a Montanna bar changed the course of your life. Changed your isolation tactics, the person you had once been.

SHIELD was your family. They’d slowly ebbed away the distant memories of what had created you in the first place: the brainwashing, the torture, the misguided loyalty was all on the backburner. You’d forgotten just how cold it was.

Something was wrong. Something was wrong. Something was wrong.

Without warning, the icy hand of your captor was closing around your throat once more, but this time, you were surrounded with people who you cared for. The thought of hurting them had you hunched over the bathroom in your room, retching whatever mint-tea concoction you’d swallowed down hours before.

At one point, you blacked out, and when you came to, when you finally pulled yourself from the scent of bile and blood and regret, you were here. They’d moved you to a containment unit and restrained you with ropes that did no favor to your already aching body.

Your fingers were still coated in blood, too much to be from your outburst in the gym. And while you still panicked, while you were still choked with fear, there was a calmness about the situation. If you were in here, you weren’t out there. With them.

“Whose blood is this?” you asked.

“Hard to say,” Daisy replied. “You did quite the number. It’s hard for agents to fight off a super soldier, you know?”

Your jaw began to ache as you pressed your teeth together, peering at her through strands of sweat-caked hair. The rope wouldn’t hold you for long, but the containment unit would. There was an electric buzz from the forcefield strong enough to hold back ten-thousand super soldiers.

Daisy had a tepid stare trained on you that made you squirm. You tested your strength against your binds, pressing and pressing until the frayed edges drew blood, dripped down the tips of your fingers until the floor was puddled with it.

A laugh bubbled up in your throat. You lolled your head, trying to loosen up your shoulders. Everything was weak and fuzzy and above all else, you felt the hiss of someone’s voice in the back of your mind. Eyes seeing through your eyes, hands gripping past your own.

There was a poison to Daisy’s voice “You just leveled a room full of twenty-five agents and you’re laughing?”

She’d clicked off the iPad, set it aside. Daisy stood and crossed her well-toned arms over her chest. God, even in your disillusioned state, you were acutely aware of your feelings for her. They’d been festering under the surface for a better part of the last three years.

“No, no… I just…”

With an extra tug, the mass of rope fell to the ground in a heap of ties and caked blood. You couldn’t distinguish your own from those of the agents that you be felled. Your fingers worked at the lacerations.

“You’ve got a very motherly tone right now. I mean, you’re scolding me, actually scolding me!”

“What do you expect me to do, y/n? What I witnessed in there was one of the scariest, most startling things I have ever seen and you expect me not to scold you? What the fuck is going on?”

Her voice cracked during the last sentence and your heart tugged at the sound. You’d heard it before as she sunk to the floor years ago when Lincon had perished, and when she’d succumbed to the fear of her own powers growing out of control.

The part of you that was still you didn’t want to cause that pain, and most certainly didn’t want the fear to take over. You stood, approaching the barrier. It was the only thing between you both, and it was highly charged.

You’d been tempted to touch it, to place your hand against the electricity save for the pain. Instead, you started pacing back and forth, the length of your makeshift cell. “This is where we held Agent Ward, isn’t it?”

She didn’t’ answer, instead, she swallowed the lump in her throat as you examined the metal frame bed and the cameras that were situated around each corner of the cell. Part of you swelled with pride, being confined in the same spot the biggest threat to the team had been in. You quickly drowned the thought, shaking your head.

“Does it bother you? Watching two people you love fall down the same path?” The words had slipped past your lips before you could quell them. Instead, you tutted “You’re well on your way to a pattern, young lady. One more good-looking sociopath and you’ll collect all three.”

“Don’t,” Daisy snarled “You need to tell me what’s wrong. This isn’t you.”

You stopped pacing, lilting your head to the side as you stared at her. She was itching to leave, and you wanted her to. It would make all of this easier. Your entire body itched too, wanted to give in to the full control. It wasn’t something you were willing to do in front of Daisy.

“Do you know how much control I have to practice on a daily basis, Zee? Just a little more strength than usual and I rip a cabinet door off. I shatter a mug. I punch a co-worker in the face. It’s a constant push between what’s right to do and what I was designed to do.”

“So what? You decided you’re done watching your strength? That doesn’t warrant an attempt at massacre.”

“You don’t get it!” You punched the barrier, reveling in the feel of electricity that moved through your fingertips, your arm and elbow until it dissipated altogether. She flinched but didn’t step back. “When Hydra… why Hydra trained me it was all I knew. I would wake up, follow orders, and be put back to sleep before I could even register what I had done. Who I had killed, what I destroyed.”

This was something you had refused to talk about. Coulson knew the gist of your containment, of your de-programming because that was all listed in your SHIELD file. But the true horrors of your ordeal were a mystery to the entire team. It was behind you. He was behind you.

“A SHEILD team raided one of Hydras bases and I was there. I was willing to go without a fight and Hydra was willing to leave me there to absolve for their sins.” You chuckled at that, shaking your head “There was months of imprisonment, of interrogation and then deprogramming. And finally, finally after years of trying to prove myself to Director Fury, and Agent Hill, they cleared me for duty. Cleared me to join Coulson’s team.”

You let yourself plop down onto the metal chair, suddenly too exhausted to remember why you were fighting so hard in the first place. Daisy clenched and unclenched her jaw. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Two years of deprogramming doesn’t make up for a lifetime of torture, of molding me into the perfect killing machine.” You swallowed hard “I played my part, I ignored the feeling of being watched, the dark thoughts that tried to break through into my new, good, life. I fought every single day to make sure all of you were safe and unharmed and… suddenly, suddenly the people who were controlling me got stronger.”

Daisy shifted, uncrossing her arms “You’re saying you’re still under Hydra’s control?”

“I’m saying I wasn’t strong enough to fight off their hold on me. A few months ago I started blacking out and the nightmares, they got worse. But everyone was finally settled, finally happy. We were happy”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Daisy’s voice waivered “Y/n, one of the perks of having a girlfriend is being able to talk to them, to tell them things. You should have come to me.”

“I didn’t want to hurt anyone. I thought I could handle it. I thought I could keep things under control.”

Daisy let out a long sigh and lowered herself back into her own chair. Her elbows resting on her knees. She bounced her leg, staring at you with those deep brown eyes that you could drown in. Somehow, her being there, was enough if only for a moment.

“I have to tell Coulson.”

“I know,” you said.

“He’ll know what to do. We’ll get through this, y/n.” Her words were whispered, eyes glassy with emotion. “I love you. We all do. This is just another challenge, okay? We’re here to help.”

“I admire your perseverance, Daisy, but the hold hydra has on me. It’s bigger than me, it’s bigger than us.”

She swallowed thickly “You don’t mean that.”

But you did, didn’t you? Your skin felt like it was on fire and you wanted nothing more than to peel it off strip by strip until there was a new layer glinting under the industrial lights. Anything to stop the uncomfortable feeling of not being in your own body. You’d gotten to complicit under the watchful eye of SHIELD. Hydra didn’t like that, and at this point, neither did you.

It had been so easy, so simple to rip through those agents as they aimed red dots at your center. You didn’t care if they fired their weapons, you hadn’t a care in the world and it was freeing.

It was hard to wager that with the sad look your girlfriend was giving you now. Her fingers were tapping against her knees, hardly a perfect interrogation technique. It was hard not to crave her touch, her mouth hot on yours. Even if you did give yourself up to Hydra entirely, there would always be Daisy.

You lilted your head, narrowing your eyes at her. She’d be just as easy to break; just a little bit of homegrown brainwashing and she’d be by your side again. Both of you dripping in blood. A power like hers, resting under her fingertips, would be invaluable.

Standing, you gently touched the barrier separating you both. There was a subtle electronic buzz that moved through your fingertips and up to your elbow. It was warming, a constant comfort, almost. “Darling, we could make all of this go away. Just the two of us.”

She lifted her hazel stare from the tablet in front of her, reading your vitals like an open book. They were steady, you were sure of it. There was curiosity in her stare.

“Do you remember the house in Vermont we talked about?” You dragged your fingers against the barrier, a blue trail following fast. “The two of us can forget all of this, forget SHIELD and Hydra. We can go there, start a family. Isn’t that what you want?”

You could read it in her expression, it was exactly what she wanted. But Daisy Johnson was no fool. Despite your terse begging and manipulative tactics, she remained calm. One knee was balanced on the edge of the chair, the other foot planted firmly on the floor.

“Rae’s Restaurant… the floorplan that we drew out on the back of a placemat. Two stories, a nursery, and office. A massive backyard. I remember it well.” Daisy stood again, facing off against you with nothing but an electrical panel holding you back. “This isn’t the you I imagined it with. Where is the kindness? The selfless woman that I fell in love with?”

You gritted your teeth. “Gone. Nothing but a fabrication, baby. I’m just offering you one last chance to join me. I have no reservations about destroying you right along with this entire organization.”

Daisy swallowed hard, trying to quell the lump in her throat. She refused to let herself cry. “I’d like to see you try.”

“I do love a challenge.”

#Daisy Johnson #Daisy Johnson x reader #Daisy Johnson x y/n #Daisy Johnson x you #agents of shield #agents of s.h.i.e.l.d.#Marvel #Request #Winter Soldier au #agents of shield fanfic #reader insert

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direwombat · 3 months ago

Text

tagged by @josephseedismyfather for this fine wip wedesday (tysm~ <3)

working on the damaged (aka, the jakesyb slasher au) becuase this fic holding my brain hostage in a cage. so here's a scene from later in the fic (which is to say, after syb and jacob have made their truce fucked and caught feelings) during their road trip to montana. this is a super rough rough-draft and will be edited. also. uh. trigger warning for lighthearted discussions of cannibalism (but none actually depicted, it's all hypothetical).

Sybille kicks her feet onto the dashboard, the dried mud of her boots flaking and dirtying the control panel. "I got a question for you," she says, after taking a drag and letting her arm hang lazily out the open window.

"Shoot."

"You said you's wanted for man-eatin'."

Jacob hums an affirmative.

"What part of me would you eat first?" He takes his eyes off the road just long enough to give her a [puzzled] look. When his gaze briefly flicks to the cradle of her hips, she grins and adds, "Previous meals nonwithstandin'."

He diverts his gaze back to the road and sighs thoughtfully. "I'd start with the organs. Heart, brain—" he casts her a quick side-glance "—probably not your lungs or liver."

She barks a rasping, smoker's laugh. "Wouldn't blame ya. What about the rest 'f me?"

He pauses for a moment, presses his lips in a firm line, contemplating. "Don't take this the wrong way, honey, but you're not exactly prime cut beef."

"Kinda hard to tell what other way I should take that." She takes another drag and casts him a sidelong smirk. "'Sides, weren't like you was complainin' the other night—or woulda any pussy done?"

"That's not what I—" he groans, mildly frustrated. "Look," he says, and he takes a hand off the wheel to run his knuckles down her ribs, allowing them to knock against the protruding bones and notch into the divots between them. It kind of tickles. "You're like a hare. Skin, bones, and muscle, but not much fat. Tough meat."

"Ooh, careful Mr. Hunter," she coos, the teasing sarcasm coats her voice, saccharine and honey-thick, "neg me harder 'n I might feel insecure enough to give ya a blowie." Self-satisfied pride swells in her chest as she watches the tips of his ears turn pink. "Well, fine — 'f ya had to cook 'n eat my tough meat, how'd ya do it?"

He's quiet for a long, long moment. "Stew," he eventually answers. "Take the meat from your shoulders and thighs. Tenderize ya with a mallet. Sear ya off to lock in your — uh — your juices." He coughs awkwardly and her grin widens. "Toss you in a slow cooker and let you simmer with carrots and onions or something. Bag you up, keep you in the freezer and have you as a hearty meal on a cold winter day."

There's a tenderness in the emotion to his voice. If she didn't know any better, she might've called it affection. It settles warmly in her chest and all of a sudden she feels exposed. With words alone he's cracked open her sternum. He might as well be holding her still-beating heart in his hands, and somehow, the image of him lifting it to his mouth, teeth bared and ready to take a bite, sounds more romantic than it does grizzly.

She scoffs. "Just don't forget to season me. 'F I find out you ate me without addin' any seasonin' I'm gon' haunt your ass."

He chuckles. "Got any requests?"

"You will use Slap Ya Mama cajun seasoning and nothing else."

"Heard."

She brings her cigarette to her lips and sucks in another lungful of smoke. "What 'bout trophies. Anythin' you'd keep?" she asks on the exhale.

"Your eyes," he answers, perhaps a little too quickly.

She snorts. "What, you gon' keep'em in a mason jar in that duffle?"

He shrugs. "Dunno. Don't really take trophies."

"Right, right," she waves the hand holding her cigarette dismissively. "Use the whole animal 'n shit."

"Something like that."

"Why my eyes?"

He's quiet for a long moment. "Nice shade of green."

tag list (opt in/out)

@voidika, @buggknife, @cloudofbutterflies92, @la-grosse-patate, @tommyarashikage

@florbelles, @statichvm, @fourlittleseedlings, @wrathfulrook, @harmonyowl,

@ivymarquis, @carlosoliveiraa, @cassietrn, @confidentandgood, @strafethesesinners,

@trench-rot, @miyabilicious, @simplegenius042, @g0dspeeed, @inafieldofdaisies,

@josephslittledeputy, @aceghosts, @adelaidedrubman, @finding-comfort-in-rain,

@socially-awkward-skeleton, and @strangefable

#fun fact about this au is that in this universe syb was raised by her daddy rather than her mama #and. uh. it shows #my beautiful princess with a disorder #wip wednesday

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council-of-beetroot · 1 year ago

Note

pls make a longer post omg

Tolys and his struggles with body Image and Appearance

Alright anon you and a few others wanted me to elaborate so I will!

So in a previous post I said this

"I genuinely think Tolys has issues body / appearance wise and it's probably because of Ivan"

So you know how in quite a few strips Tolys is weirdly overly embarrassed by things Feliks does like how he dresses or when he suggests Tolys try a certain hairstyle?

It's odd to me because Tolys has been friends with Feliks for a very long time, he should hypothetically be used to Feliks' interests and unusual hobbies. Tolys is seemingly used to everything else weird that Feliks does so why does this bother him so much?

Now let's take a look at this panel from 2007 where we have the stripping panel

To which Tolys responds with this before it moves on to the next person.

Now we're circling back to Ivan. This leads me to believe Ivan used appearance as a quite effective humiliation tactic. Additionally it gives Ivan a ton of control.

Now why is this a good tactic? Well for one it gets to Liet, not only is he easily embarrassed it makes him overthink. To him, it's one thing to get beaten to the point of unconsciousness and it's another to be forced into a maid dress. It's over the top and deliberate, it ends up with Tolys "thinking how did I get myself into this situation it's ridiculous, I am a warrior, why is this getting to me?"

And Ivan knows this

He knows that he can make it so Tolys is so in his own head questioning things that his mindset quickly becomes just Tolys and Ivan.

Now here's where it comes back to Tolys having residual issues with his appearance/ or femininity.

It's simple Ivan knows this: Refer to him as your ex, your wife, call him your toy, call him cute and pretty and compliment his long hair. Eliminate the space between you and him, rub his shoulders, come up to him from behind. Show him off to others and tell him how adorable it is to see him blushing from the attention. Strip him of his privacy, his self autonomy, and safety. Control him so it's only you he can turn to whether you give him comfort or pain.

Now if you've ever experienced that you know in particular how much it can mess with your head when things like compliments are used to hurt you or when someone is cruel one moment and nice the next. And it's even more of a mindfuck when they confide in you let, their guard down, and perhaps you do too.

Hence why I am lead to believe Tolys still is struggling with this. Any comment of his appearance makes the alarms in his head go off. A compliment on a date makes start searching for the nearest escape route. Feliks' comfortability with his feminine aspects and wanting Tolys to join in reminds him of Ivan dressing him up in bows and dresses and telling him he's pretty. Feminine things were used to humiliate him. Appearance was used to humiliate him. It's genuinely triggering for him even though with Feliks, he's just being him and wants to include Liet. For Tolys, it reminds him of being dolled up and paraded as Ivan's cute secretary. Even a genuine compliment brings him back to a time where he couldn't say no and he felt powerless, because it was weaponized against him.

Hopefully I worded this right and let me know if i should add any warnings in the tags

Totally unrelated but in searching for images I found a bunch of HWS lithuania tiktoks and if I didn't refuse to ever download tiktok I'd go watch them.

(I do want to say people often use this especially back in the day wondering why he's portrayed as so weak especially when he's shown to have defeated Prussia. Here's the thing that's important to know, enduring abuse doesn't make anyone weak, anyone can get trapped in abusive relationships even if they think they can't.

Tolys has been under Ivan for a long time this gives Ivan the advantage here to create the perfect atmosphere to isolate, control, and facilitate abuse.)

Also if you wonder why doesn't liet do anything or fight back in panels like this let me explain, you can't survive if you are constantly choosing every battle. Tolys has a lot to lose and he can't afford to lose it all by not being careful.

Yeah it bugs me when people complain that lithuania is protrayed as "weak" he's not.

#asks and replies #anon #rusliet #tw abuse

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thetulparsjanitor · 1 month ago

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Uh...i'm supposed to write something on here??

Hello. My name is Harvey and i'm 32 years old. I am the Janitor of the Tulpar freighter from the company "Pony Express". I've heard about this social media called "Tumblr" from Daisuke and i decided to give it a try. I also heard that some of my other crew members are on here too, i should look for them.

Forgive me and correct me if i make any mistakes. I am not really familiar with the internet of today.

I guess that's it for now, Goodbye.

Hi everyone!! I've seen a lot of ppl here make blogs about Mouthwashing characters and some even making one for their own OCs! i decided to make one for my own character too

Feel free to roleplay, send asks, reblog posts and more!!

This is my first time making an rp blog so sorry if it looks a bit bad lol

Some info about the mod:

-Name is Glitter

-Genderfluid and uses any prounouns

-Autistic

-Speaks english and spanish

-This is NOT my main account!! my main account is @glittercoffinn

↓Reference sheet for Harvey↓

↓And a little relationship chart for him (CREDS FOR THE TEMPLATE ON THE IMAGE)↓

Feel free to ask for more information about him anytime!! :D i love when ppl ask about my ocs

Now that that's aside, let's go with the rules and tws!

RULES ABOUT THE BLOG

1-NO NSFW OR ANY EXPLICIT CONTENT!! The mod is a minor so showing it in any form is strictly prohibited!!

2-BASIC DNI (Homophobes, sexists, proshippers, etc.)

3-Spam is okay in a limited amount

4-No sexualization of Anya and/or glorification of what happened to her

5-No justification of Jimmy's actions and/or shipping content of him (Rp accs are fine)

IF YOU BREAK ANY OF THESE RULES YOU'LL GET AN IMMEDIATE BLOCK!!

TWs//CWs:

There is a big chance that this blog contains or discuss topics like:

-OC x canon (Oc x Curly)

-Su!c!d3

If you are triggered or dislike this type of content i kindly suggest you to not look at this blog or proceed with caution (more warnings will be added as the blog goes on)

Tags:

Responding to asks- #☆The janitor answers questions

Reblogs- #☆Harveys reblogs

Responding to reblogs- #☆Harvey responds

Random/Other posts- #☆Daily life

Texts:

If the text shows like this it means Harvey is talking

If the text shows like this it means this is Harvey's thoughts or what he is thinking

OOC-If the text shows like this it means the mod (me) is talking

The canon character's names are also colored!

Curly

Anya

Daisuke

Swansea

Jimmy

I don't know what else to add so bye!! i hope ppl see my blog and like it!

#mouthwashing #mouthwashing game #mouthwashing oc #captain curly #mouthwashing curly #mouthwashing anya #mouthwashing daisuke #mouthwashing swansea #mouthwashing jimmy #mouthwashing rp #mouthwashing rp blog #oc rp #oc ask blog #ask blog #idk what else to tag #fuck jimmy

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marleyelona · 9 months ago

Text

RIDE OR DIE (THE PRESIDENT'S DAUGHTER)

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Sons of Anarchy. All rights go to Kurt Sutter, FX and any others that made this amazing show possible. I do, however, own my character, Letitia Morrow, and any other OCs I might add in the future, along with their backstories and their storylines within the show.

GRAPHICS: I MAKE the gifs that are used throughout this book. On occasion I will use gifs I find on google, which I will clarify. Any gifs I haven't made, all rights of those should go to the rightful creators. I also DO the aesthetics, covers, tags and trailers that are made. Please do not steal them. HOWEVER most of the images you see in this book are made by A.I imaging unless stated otherwise.

WARNING (Mature Audience Only)⚠️: violence, murder, gore, coarse language, mental health issues, domestic violence, drug and alcohol use, and detailed sex scenes will appear in this book. If any of these are a trigger for you, please take caution if you decide to continue.

[ RIDE OR DIE! ]

Prologue

A Trunk Full of Problems

[Pre-Season One]

" There are two sides to my daughter; the angelic side of her mother and the devious side of me. And you never know which side you're gonna get from one moment to the next. She can switch just like that. "

~ CLAY MORROW to JUICE ORTIZ

☆《》¤

CAST

Emmy Rossum as Letitia Morrow

Penn Badgley as Lewis Mckenna

☆《》¤

TRIGGER WARNING⚠️: Mentions of domestic abuse, a shooting, minor gore and some coarse language.

☆《》¤

LETTY'S CAR

☆《》¤

LETTY'S OUTFIT

☆《》¤

LETTY'S TATTOOS

☆《》¤

A TWENTY ONE YEAR OLD LETITIA MORROW sped down the highway so fast if she took a wide corner her car would most likely turn over. Apart of her was dreading seeing the 'Welcome to Charming' sign. Letty or Lett, as she was called by many of the small town's residences, speed increased, while tears streamed down her beaten and bruised face. A dark purplish bruise hung under her left eye, her bright cherry lips had grown two sizes too big, as blood oozed out of the corner of her mouth.

Pressing her foot down on the gas, made her engine let out a loud roar, as a sob escaped her lips when she aggressively rubbed her blood stained hands onto her ripped jeans. Her tears continued to flow like a tap, as the memories of the night prior flashed through her mind like an old movie projector.

A blood curdling scream echoed in her ears, as she gasped, her eyes shot wide open at the sight of a car inches away from colliding with her front bumper, their bright head lights shinning into her eyes, almost blinding the brunette.

Her shaky hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, as she turned it, managing to dodge the oncoming car without damaging her beautiful mustang - Thank God or her dad would have killed her.

The car was in fact her baby. She received him on her sixteenth birthday from her father, who just so happened to be the President of Samcro, Clay Morrow.

Her father and her had a complicated relationship, childhood worth of resentment hung heavy for Letty, and she was just as stubborn as him, so any chance she got, she liked to remind him how much he wasn't there for her growing up. Sometimes they were too similar, because of this, they constantly butted heads. But at the end of the day they loved each other deeply and were very protective over one another - they would quite literally kill for each other.

Admittedly, it had been a few years since Letty had been back to Charming, she had moved pretty quickly after she graduated from high school, not wanting to end up some Sons' old lady like Gemma. God, she loved that woman like a mother, but she did not want to turn out like her.

Gemma and Letty had a close relationship. Letty's mother died in 1987 during an emergency c-section. And when her father married Gemma, she became mum to her, as she had helped raise her pretty much since birth, making her the woman she is today.

Gemma was the one person Letty was worried to see, as she headed towards the club house. After she left, they had talked on the phone a few times here and there, but it wasn't the same. Gemma didn't fully support her leaving town, so she wasn't excited about the lecture she would mostly definitely receive when they came face to face again after three years.

Her eyes travelled to the back seat of her car at the many bags she stuffed inside, knowing she couldn't return to her house in Los Angeles, not after what happened the night prior with her boyfriend of three years, who she met during her freshman year of college, where she went onto complete a diploma in nursing.

That was probably the hardest thing about her decision to race back home to Charming, having to quit a job she loved with people she loved. But she was sure she'd be able to pick up a nursing job at the hospital easy, as they always seem to be short staffed.

As she passed the out dated 'Welcome to Charming' sign, which hadn't been updated since she was born, maybe even longer, a cold chill ran down her spine. She wonder what the small town of Charming would have in stall for this next chapter of her life. Because one thing was for sure, Charming was never boring, there was always something happening, whether it was good or bad that was up for interpretation.

Sure, she was happy to see her old friends and family. There was Jax and Opie, who were like her older brothers growing up. Before she had left she got pretty close with Opie's wife Donna, while Opie was inside. Donna actually helped Letty look for colleges far away from Charming and Samcro, thinking if she couldn't get out of the crippling town herself and away from the toxicity of the club, she'd want someone to, who else more deserving than the sweetheart that was Letty Morrow.

She'd love to see all the boys again. Chibs, Bobby, Tig and Piney were all in the waiting room of the maternity ward when Letita Loraine Morrow was brought into this world. They all actually got kicked out for smoking a couple fat cigars. A story that was continuously told throughout her life, the boys thought it was pretty funny, mainly trying to shine some light on the day they lost a good woman, Loraine Morrow, the most caring woman you'd ever meet, a trait her daughter inherited.

Letty was close with them all, but Chibs was like a second father to her, so even when her dad wasn't around much when she was a kid, Chibs was there to fill that emptiness in her heart.

Piney was someone she loved to call her crazy grandpa, she had actually went to calling him Pops or Poppy at a young age.

And Bobby and Tig were like her eccentrically crazy uncles that would willingly get her plastered, partying right into the night together - she loved them to death.

As Letty finally pulled into Teller-Morrow Automotive Repair Shop, that was used as a front for their motorcycle club's dealings, she gave herself a small pep talk inside her head, 'It's going to be okay. Sure, you haven't seen most of these people in years, but you got this. It'll be fine'. In fact, she was so deep in her own thoughts and still pretty hysterical, that she didn't realise how far she actually drove into the large compound and before she knew it...BANG!

☆《》¤

A loud CRASH! Followed by a continuous horn caught the Sons' attention from inside the Chapel. Like any other day, the boys sat around the table discussing current business, before they were oh-so-rudely interrupted.

Instantly, they were all on their feet, their senses on high alert, because when you were apart of a motorcycle club that did questionable dealings, you should always expect the worst. Each member had a hand clamped around their gun that sat on their hips; ready to draw it if need be.

Clay Morrow held up a hand, signalling from them all to stay put. Placing a finger to his lips, he motioned with his head for them to quietly follow him outside.

Making it outside and around the back of the large compound, they all noticed the familiar red mustang, which had clearly crashed into the garage sliding door.

"Jesus Christ!" Clay hissed under his breath, running hand through his white-blonde hair, as he released his grip from his glock. Jax Teller, Chibs Telford, Bobby Munson, Piney Winston, Tig Trager and Opie Winston, followed suit, relaxing slightly. Although, both Juice Ortiz and Half-Sack Epps were still clearly on high alert - what the hell was going on?

Concern and worry had washed over the older members' faces, Clay being the first one to rush over to the car. But all of them sighed in relief when the driver's side door opened and a girl with long, brown, curly hair stepped out of the vehicle. Juice and Half-sack had held back; having no idea what was happening.

"Daddy!" Letty immediately broke down at the sight of her father, instantly running into his arms and soaking his chest with tears, as she sobbed. And as Juice watched the scene unfold, he felt a small pang in his heart for the poor girl.

Clay pulled back, holding the woman at arms length, as he cupped her beautiful face. And once Juice finally got a good look at her features, his jaw almost hit the floor. She was hot. No, not hot...Gorgeous. He honestly thought she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen in his whole life. And he had been with his fair share of beautiful women, but not one of them held a candle to Letty Morrow.

"Honey, what happened--?" Clay started to ask, before his face fell, noticing the state she was in and the bruises that scattered her entire body, not just her face. "Did he beat you again?" Clay's whole face turned murderous, as he tightly gripped his daughter's shoulders, which made her wince in pain.

All the girl managed was a nod of her head, which only angered Clay more.

"I'm gonna fucking kill him!" the man clenched his fists, as he started to storm towards his bike, but Letty was quick to grab his arm.

"No! You're not going anywhere," she declared, sending her father a stern look.

Yanking his arm back, he glared at his only daughter, "Don't tell me what I'm gonna fucking do. He put his hands on you, baby!"

"I understand that," she said, matching his tone. If the situation wasn't so serious the boys would of had a laugh at how quickly father and daughter had started arguing. It was always said, 'You can't have Clay and Letty in the same room for too long or a storm would brew'.

Clay went to open his mouth to argue once again, but Letty cut him off and continued with what she was saying, "That's why I took care of it," she said in a tone of voice that gave nothing away, her face even remained solemn, so you couldn't even read her facial expressions to guess what she meant by that statement.

Clay furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, "What does that even mean?" he slightly snapped, throwing his hands up in frustration.

"I came here because I need your help," she stated, making her way over to her car, Clay and the boys followed after her as she started to unlock her boot. Pulling the door open, the boys leaned over to look inside and their eyes widened at the sight of a man all tied up with a gun shot wound on his lower region, his blood staining the lining of the boot.

"You stupid fucking bitch!" Lewis Mckenna hissed, glaring bloody murder at his girlfriend of three years, as he thrusted around, trying to get free from the tight binds. "You actually fucking shot me! Oh, my God, you shot me in the dick!" he cried, looking down at his wounded genitals that oozed with blood.

While amusement was clear on the older members' faces, Juice and Half-Sack were watching on, completely confused, but also very intrigued, watching this all play out like it was a brand new movie at the cinemas. All they were missing was popcorn.

"And I should of done worse, you fucking cock sucker!" she sneered, shooting daggers with her eyes at her latest ex-boyfriend.

A growl sounded from the back of Lewis' throat, as his glared up at her hatefully, "I'm going to fucking kill, you crazy bitch--!"

The guy's threat was cut short by an elbow to the face, knocking him out cold, "That's enough out of," Jax smirked, owner of said elbow, earning him a chuckle from the girl that was basically his sister, they gave each other enough wedgies growing up to justify that.

"As you can see..." she said to her father, putting on her best, 'I'm sweet and innocent' look "...I fucked up."

"Yeah, you should of went for the head," Clay hissed, looking at the man in complete disgust, like he was the piece of gum under his shoe.

"I thought it showed creativity," Letty pouted like a five year old who was just refused ice cream for dinner, crossing her arms over her chest. "So sue me," she shrugged nonchalantly.

"I thought it was pretty creative, darlin'," Tig stated with that somewhat sinister smirk of his. "Take away a man's equipment -Worse and most painful punishment there is."

"Thanks, Tigga," she said, sending the man a kind smile. Her nickname for Tig came from when she was a toddler and just learning to say a few words here and there, so when Tig tried to teach her his name or his nickname, she kept just getting excited repeatedly yelling her favourite cartoon character's name and the nickname just stuck ever since.

Clay shot his Sergeant in Arms a glare, "Don't encourage her," he scolded.

Tig raised his hands in mock-surrender, "Hey! She's your daughter."

Clay's glare sharpened at his words, making him take a step back, his hands still raised, "That's all I'm saying."

"Letty?!" the voice of Gemma Teller-Morrow sounded from behind the girl. The woman had stepped out of the office to investigate what the commotion was all about, she didn't recognise the woman at first, squinting her eyes, as she blocked out the sun's UV rays with her hand. And that's when she saw it, the face she hadn't seen in nearly three whole years. One she'd recognise from a mile away.

Letty was quick to whip her head around and a smile immediately graced her face as she spotted Gemma striding over to her in a quick pace.

"Well, well, well, look at what the cat dragged in," chuckled Gemma, as she reached the girl, looking at her fondly.

"Gemma," Letty beamed, bringing the woman into a hug.

"Gemma?" the woman frowned in confusion as they parted. "What happened to Mum?" she questioned, tilting her head to the side, as she raised an eyebrow, staring the girl down. "Been gone too long, you forgot who raised your skinny ass," she teased, cupping the girl's chin as she gave her face a playful shake. "Huh?"

Letty chuckled, shaking her head amusingly, "Never."

Gemma smiled, wrapping her arm around her step-daughter's shoulders, before leading her back over to her car and examined the contents of her boot, a hum leaving her lips, "This is the boyfriend I'm guessing?"

"Ex-boyfriend," Letty corrected.

"Well, they can't say you don't know how to make an entrance."

"Well, you know..." she said, shrugging nonchalantly. "I gotta keep the old man on his toes," she said, flashing her father a cheeky smirk, as she sent him a wink, earning a playful glare in response.

Gemma let out a loud chuckle, snapping her head back in amusement, "Well, what do you say, why don't we leave the boys to clean up this mess you created, and you and I grab a cuppa and catch up?" she asked, as she started to guide the girl back over to her father's office. "It's been so long. I've missed you around here, baby!" Gemma beamed happily, as she rubbed her shoulders - glad her daughter was back.

"Yeah, I've missed you guys, too," Letty said, and it was true, she did. She never wanted to leave the people. She wanted to leave the club and small town life behind.

Meanwhile, Juice was in a hypnotic state, his eyes watching Letty closely as she walked away, he was practically drooling over her, "She's beautiful, isn't she?" he whispered to Half-Sack in a monotone voice. Juice didn't think about who was around at that moment, as the words slipped from his lips.

"Yeah," Half-Sack rapidly nodded his head in agreement, while he was actually drooling over her and had to readjust the spring in his jeans. "Hard to think she came from Clay," he chuckled.

"Hey!" Clay whacked both the zombie like boys on the back of the head.

"Ow!" they both hissed simultaneously, rubbing the back of their heads.

"Both of your ugly mugs better not be thinking what I think your thinking about," he warned, pointing a stern finger in their faces.

"Hell no, sir" Half-Sack immediately uttered, his eyes awkwardly finding his feet when he looked away from the girl, not knowing where else to look in the mean time.

"Yeah, that's what I thought," Clay shot back with narrowed eyes.

"Damn," Juice whistled, his eyes still locked on the girl, who was now inside, sipping a coffee as she talked with Gemma, still visible through the window, as he remained in his hypnotic state.

"Oh, Juicy Boy," Tig chuckled amusingly, coming over to wrap his arm over the boy's shoulders, giving him a light pat. "She's gonna chew you up and spit you out."

"Ain't that the truth," Opie agreed, shaking his head in amusement - Juice could not handle a girl like Letty Morrow, not in the slightest. Stronger men have tried and let's just say, it didn't end well for them.

Clay joyfully chuckled, finding the boy's crush on his daughter kind of hilarious, knowing she had no interest in dating a Son. He would have applied the rule when she turned eighteen himself, but she had already stated she would never date one of his 'brothers' way before that.

"There are two sides to my daughter; the angelic side of her mother and the devious side of me. And you never know what side you're gonna get from one moment to the next. She can switch just like that," he said, clicking his fingers together, as a sinister smirk tugged at the corner his lips. "So, this should be fun to watch, aye, boys?" he mocked, as they all roared with laughter.

Poor Juice had no idea what he was getting himself into; swooning over the President's daughter.

☆《》¤

Originally Published on Wattpad on the 10/03/2024

A/N:

Please not, all Images were created by Bing's AI generator. Although, the title tag at the top was made by me.

Let me know what you thought of the Prologue to my Sons of Anarchy Fanfiction - Ride or Die.

Marley 😁

Words: 3182

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readerhead · 2 years ago

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Hits different

summary: it has never been so difficult getting over a guy

pairing: Matt x reader

warnings: some angst? idk, maybe if you have abandonment issues can be a little triggering (let me know if you think I should add any)

word count: 1.2k

a/n: okay, I'm really excited because it's my birthday! I wanted to gave you a gift because of that (I don't care that they should the other way around, I'm a giver <3). Now that I'm of legal age in Thailand, I want to communicate you: ANOTHER ONE BASED ON A TAYLOR SONG. Sorry, it's just midnights always makes me think of Matt. It's my first time writing "angst" so I hope you have an enjoyable time reading this :)

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The reflection on the dirty mirror of Josie's was judging you. You were a complete mess, from your hair to your makeup. The long hours taming your hair, quickly went to the trash. All frizzy and disheveled now. The burgundy lipstick, blurred. The mascara, smudged and dry under your eyes. Your dry throat made you gulp and the acid on your taste buds reminded you of how you were throwing up in a stranger's shoes moments ago. A stranger you briefly made out with. Not that you really wanted, but your friends told you you needed this. Finally, you finished washing your hands of your vomit and decided it was time to call it a night. Why was everything feeling so wrong?

Someone called a cab for you. Was it one of your friends? Josie? Perhaps the stranger? Once inside you started weeping, trying to not make any sound. The driver gave you a sad look from the rearview, as if your emotions were contagious.

You remember clearly why your stomach had that reaction. While kissing that guy, you started wondering if he was also kissing others. Did he like another? Was that the reason he disappeared? Was he in love with another? Did he even think of you? The image of him kissing a random woman, being there for her, loving her was what made your insides turn around, leaving a disgusting gift near the bar's door.

“If he’s the one, you’ll know” your friend started comforting you when you started shedding tears at the song that played on the radio on your first date which was blasting through the speakers.

“But he treated me so well. I love him. I’m so in love with Matt that it hurts.” you didn’t remember how you started talking about him, but you also didn’t remember talking about anything else.

“What hurts?”

“My heart. It’s like a little rodent is gnawing it bit by bit, after being sanded down with sandpaper and then burning every piece in the sun. And the worst is that I can't do anything to stop it.”

“Come on, girl. Love’s just a lie. A trick from companies, lawyers and the government to take your money.” another friend tried to cheer you up.

“You’re literally gonna get married in two months.” she shut up knowing you were right. “I wanted him to move in, even gave him a key, and he ran away.” you took another sip from your drink. “He was so perfect. Like out-of-a-Jane-Austen’s-book perfect.”

“He wouldn't be so perfect if he let you go.” you were quiet, thinking. “You know what you should do?” You look at her hopefully. “You should flirt with other guys, maybe kiss a few and if one of them’s lucky enough bring him home. That always made you get over any guy before.”

“Exactly. You used to switch from boy to boy like they were toys. Always saying you needed space or ghosting them. That the freedom felt like a beach breeze.” you were so disgusted. Matt wasn’t a fleeting random guy, he was the man that made you want to settle down. “Always shunning commitment.”

A couple weeks had passed. You woke up from dreaming of him. This time you blamed it on the movie you watched last night. ‘This ending is more realistic, otherwise he had left her’ this was what you said to the screen with your mouth full of popcorn when the love interest died. You found one of his blue shirts in your closet. Damn, you loved how those fit him. You took it and when the scent of him started invading your nose, your eyes started watering like a reflex, without your permission. That morning, every time you closed your eyes you remembered something about him.

“Do you think I can do it?” with his head in your thighs, you were massaging his hair while insecurities about your work were eating you alive. The feeling of his locks and his relaxed face were the only thing easing up your stress.

“Of course you can. You are the most capable person I’ve ever known.”

“But do you believe in me?”

“The faith I have in you could make the big guy up there jealous.” the outside of his eyes wrinkled. The reason? Easy, the sweetest smile you have contemplated in your life. All your self doubting was gone at those words accompanied by that view.

That’s the memory that popped up to your head when you passed the couch in your living room. The next one happened when you were waiting for the coffee to finish.

“That can’t be true! It’s not fair.” the wooden spoon pointing at Matt.

“Yet it is.”

“Bullshit.” he laughed.

“I doubt Columbia taught me wrong.”

“Maybe your professor lied to you.”

“And he took all the time to learn braille so he could change what was written in my books?”

“Maybe. There are a lot of creepy crazy people out there.”

“Could you just stop arguing and give me a kiss?” he said, grabbing the wrist that was still threatening him, getting you the closer he could.

“Only if you agree with me.”

“I agree that it ain’t fair.”

“It works for me.” you gripped his shirt, sealing the conversation with a kiss.

Before him you would have argued that injustice was inherent to human kind, however he made you believe in the good, in people, in this world.

You looked at your phone, killing time scrolling to social media. You saw a post of your friends, they went to a bar last night and you didn’t blame them for not inviting you after the little show you put up on the last night you went out.

Taking your mug you sat in the stool nearest to your fridge, the one that gave you a better view of your hall. Perhaps he would show up. At least that's what you told yourself every morning when you had breakfast sitting there, boring your eyes in the door as if it was going to make him materialize.

People usually talk about opportunities as trains and you were more than willing to take it, but you were waiting in a disused station waiting for one that never came again. You were exhausted from all these metaphors in your life, reminding you how you lost him. You had enough with literal events. It wasn't easy seeing him in the news a couple days before when his firm won a big case against some big fish called Fisk.

You were so immersed in your thoughts that you almost didn't hear it. What was that sound by your door? You didn't want to get hopeful, it could be just your neighbor. Was that a dingling in your lock? The only one with your house keys was… It couldn't be him, could it? Were you still dreaming? The expectation had you holding your breath and, when the door finally opened, you didn’t know how to feel.

“I know you probably just want to kick me out,” did you? You had daydreamed hours and days about this, how would it be like the next time you see each other, if he would be the one reaching out for you, if he would really want you back. “you have every right to do it, but at least I think you deserve an explanation. Then, if you want me to leave, I’ll understand.”

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a/n: am I a bad person for leaving an open ending?Maybe? Anyways, the song is 'Hits different' by the genius Taylor Swift. I know it's in the title but I put it here in case someone doesn't know it :)

#matt murdock #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock fanfic #matt murdock x you #daredevil #daredevil netflix #daredevil x reader #daredevil x you #daredevil fic #marvel #mcu fic #mcu daredevil #matt x reader #matt murdock angst

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vocaloidsongpoll · 1 year ago

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this blog is for seeing how well-known certain vocaloid songs are! but mostly, it's just for fun :)

song submissions are open!!! if you submit a song, you'll be tagged in the post, but you can submit anonymously if you want!

there's no limit to how many songs you can submit and there's no right or wrong way to submit a song! with that said, i do appreciate direct links to videos and any triggers to look out for in the videos so i can tag them appropriately, but these aren't required for submissions!

at the moment, i'm not looking for any particular vocalists to be submitted, so just submit whatever song(s) you would like to see posted!

polls are posted about 5 times every day now, so if you don't see your submission right away, it's still in the queue!

as of april 16th, there are about 90 songs in the queue (18 days worth of songs), so please be patient if you don't see your submitted song right away! much appreciated!! <3

WARNING!!! my blog has videos with flashing imagery. please take care in browsing! the tags i currently use are:

for general flashing imagery: flashing lights, flashing

for imagery with highly saturated colors: eyestrain

for imagery with glitching effects: glitch

for imagery with shaking effects: shaking images

the tags i use for other sensitive content are:

for suicidal ideation/self harm: suicide, suicidal ideation, suicide mention, self harm, self harm mention

for disturbing content: unsettling, disturbing

my blog also tags for: graphic violence, sexual assault, cannibalism, necrophilism, abuse, child abuse, child death, animal violence, screeching sound, loud noise, drug usage, gender dysphoria

please let me know if i forget to tag something appropriately! i want everyone to have a safe listening experience here!

we now also have a youtube playlist featuring all of the songs posted here!

general content warnings: flashing images, mild nsfw content, themes of self-harm or suicide, and more. basically if you can think of a triggering topic, chances are it is (or eventually will be) on this playlist, so just be aware of that going into it <3

we now also have two spotify playlists!

this first one is for songs that i could find exact matches for. there should only be original vocaloid songs in there, but this does mean that it's missing a good chunk of songs.

this second one is identical to the first one, except i put in the closest match to the missing vocaloid songs that i could find. for instance, since i couldn't find an exact match of "game of life" sung by hatsune miku, i put in a cover sung by sick2. the first playlist doesn't have "game of life" at all, unfortunately, because as far as i can tell it's not on spotify.

unfortunately both playlists are missing 60+ songs because they're either exclusive to youtube or i wasn't able to find it on spotify. if you see a song is missing on there that you know is on spotify, please let me know so i can add it to the playlists!

thanks for the support, y'all! <3

#vocaloid #poll #vocaloid music #hatsune miku #kagamine rin #kagamine len #meiko #kaito #megurine luka #kamui gakupo #megpoid gumi #gumi #music poll #vocaloid poll #not a poll #tumblr poll

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hollyhuedhorror · 9 months ago

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Welcome to my little corner of the world-wide web! The Thicket!

A spot for me to post my art, and also share the wonderful and fun pieces I find as I wander around. This blog will mainly focus on horror, macabre, creepy, and other spooky sorts of art, such as designing monsters. So, viewer beware!

I hope to, as I get more practice, create interactive posts and characters for you to explore during your time here. I'm always open to requests, and my inbox is anon-friendly for those who need it!

All posts will be tagged with proper warnings, and if I miss any, please feel free to let me know! I also use alt image descriptors for all the art I myself make and post, and will, as able, add ID's to rebloged posts and images.

If the reblog does not have an ID already, it will be updated in a future reblog. You can find all my described posts utilizing the tag 'described' in the search bar. If you have any feedback on this system, don't hesitate to send me an ask! In fact, if you have a random little ask just about anything - I will probably answer. Or, even, if you want your art described, but get intimidated by making ID's! Please reach out!

As for rules of interaction, this blog won't be covering or posting any sort of NSFW material, so please do not send or ask me about such. I don't consider horror necessarily NSFW, especially due to its broad range of material, appeal, and subject.

And, I respectfully ask that : no terfs, racists, shotas, lolis, ableists, homophobes, bigots, or the like, interact with my posts.

This is intended to be a safe space for queer individuals like myself, and many others. If I find hate speech on any of my posts, you will be reported and blocked. This blog is also not intended to be political, and I am not here to hold debate.

I will not share possibly triggering imagery with no warnings or for shock value. Fictional horror and real-world tragedies / disturbing imagery depicting a real event, are very different things and the latter two should be treated with utmost care.

I will, however, share posts related to current events and causes that are in need of donations. If you try to start an argument in my comments or inbox about politics, you will be blocked and ignored. I am not entitled to your time, you are not entitled to mine. Please don't harass people in my posts, comments, etc.

Overall, with all that blabbering aside : please just be mindful towards others, and I hope you enjoy your time in the Thicket.

#intro post #blog intro #the thicket

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ashers-transition · 2 years ago

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2 Months T Update (February 13, 2023)

If you're wondering if I'm ever going to post one of these on time, the answer is no. Anyway, here's my two months update!

Just like before, I will be skipping over anything that hasn't changed and only discussing the changes that I have noticed.

My other transition logs can be found here:

Pre T 1 Month

Please check my pinned post for more info about me and why I started this blog!

CWs: eye contact (in video), discussion of menstruation, discussion of appetite and disordered eating.

(If I’ve missed any content warnings that I should include, please let me know and I will add them in).

Facial Hair

Prior to starting T, I already some darker hairs around my upper lip. It's hard to tell for sure, but I believe I not have slightly more in that area. It's still not very noticeable, especially at a distance. Here are some comparisons, with the first image in the set being pre T and the second being now (2 months on T).

Menstrual Cycle

In my pre T post, I mention that I struggle with chronic pain, and that I get a flare whenever I get my period, with the first day being the worst. I started a new pain medication around three months ago that has lessened those flares enough for me to be functional during them.

For my second period on T, things started to change. This time around, I did not have any extra pain while on my period (at least, not enough for me to be able to tell in addition to my usual pain). That being said, I did have a much longer period than usual, with a much much lighter flow. It was light enough that I could go through a whole day without bleeding through a liner, but my period itself did last for three weeks. I talked to my doctor about this and she did say that this is something that can happen, so there isn't any need for concern.

I know having a month long period sucks, but considering my usual pain when I'm on my period, I honestly would rather have longer, lighter periods with no pain than more "normal" ones with pain.

Acne

I have once again noticed a slight increase in acne. It still is within the realm of a normal breakout for me, but I might try switching up my skin care routine if it gets much worse*. If anyone has any tips let me know, lol.

(*note: I fully believe that acne is a neutral feature and is not inherently bad. It only becomes an issue if it starts negatively affecting you; for example, if it becomes painful. I personally struggle with BFRBs, and acne can be a trigger for me).

Energy Levels, Pain, and POTS

I already struggle with fatigue quite a bit, but honestly this past month was more rough than usual. I think it might be related to being on my period for a full three weeks, but I ended up taking multiple naps most days and sleeping odd hours in general. This isn't completely unusual for me, but I haven't had it to that extent in a while.

As for pain and POTS symptoms, I haven't noticed a difference. I did faint once, which is not common for me, but it was in a controlled environment (medical testing).

Appetite

I have noticed a bit more of an increase in my appetite. It isn't that big of a difference, but I am more consistently eating 3 meals a day, sometimes with snacking in between.

Voice

I'm starting to notice more of a difference in my voice. While still not too bad, my voice has been cracking more than usual lately. I'm unable to pretend-scream as easily as I was before (I get dramatic when playing video games), and I also am struggling more when singing in the car lol. That being said, no one has mentioned noticing a difference in my voice other than one of my partners, who I showed a direct comparison to my pre T voice.

[Video description: A waist high video of Asher talking to the camera. End video description.]

[Video transcript: "Hi, my name is Asher, and this is my voice 2 months on T."]

Other

In my last update I mentioned that I'm planning on switching to taking injections due to a reaction I had to the gel. I have not switched yet (gotta wait for insurance stuff), but I have started rotating the application area more than I had been previously and it has helped a bit. By my next update, I will be on injections.

#medical transition #hrt #testosterone update #t update #testosterone gel #trans man #transmasc #trans resources #transition resources #actually disabled

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lovemesomeeddiemunson · 7 months ago

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The Proposal - Part 6

Summary: When Steve Harrington is threatened with deportation, he blackmails his long suffering assistant, Eddie Munson, into marrying him. Steddie! The Proposal Au, Part 6 of 7. 5571 Words

Series Warnings: Blackmail. Food mentions. Mentions of unhealthy relationship with food. Cursing. Self harm (by means of tattooing.) Homophobia. Death of a parent. Abandonment by parents. Shitty parents. Homophobic parents. Parents with entitlement. Classism. Eventual sexual situations (no actual smut!) Brief allusion to a panic attack.

Authors Note: BEFORE READING PART SIX! Please be advised that MOST of the series warnings were written with this chapter in mind. Some of the content herein may potentially be triggering for some readers, and I ask that you proceed with caution and read at your own risk. That being said, this is the final part in this series besides our epilogue. I hope it's everything you wanted it to be.

The rest of the afternoon is a blur - not that it’s difficult. Eddie knows how to follow orders by this point - stand where told, smile even if he doesn’t feel like it…And Johnathan is actually incredibly helpful. With useful tips that make this whole thing…breezy.

The only problem is Steve.

Steve, who had turned on the charm and is determined to kill Eddie with it. Flirting through the whole process - whispering in Eddie’s ear and genuinely making him laugh right when the camera clicks…At one point Steve even queues up Johnathan to snap an idea he’s come up with on his own - of him pulling Eddie’s hand up to his lips and leaving a gentleman’s kiss on his knuckles while Eddie just fucking melts.

He’s so fucked.

Utterly and completely fucked - even as they flit from location to location, switching outfits, and subtly adjusting Eddie’s hair as they go.

And Steve is so fucking clever too, because with those things combined these photos could have been taken at any point. Not necessarily in a day.

It’s padding for their case - a nice little breadcrumb trail of evidence of a - if the Central Park carriage ride is to be believed - very romantic relationship.

Leaving Eddie just, wishing for the reality of it, despite himself.

They finish out the photo shoot at Steve’s once again, taking photos on Steve’s balcony under the setting sun and some twinkle lights. Once they’ve lost said light, officially, Johnathan dismisses himself. He tells them they’ve done great, that he’s off to edit, and he’ll send the finalized images to Steve by the beginning of next week.

Eddie fidgets nervously as Steve sees the other man out, unsure what comes next.

Not expecting, of all things, the exaggerated groan Steve lets out when he returns to him, or his. “I’m sorry.”

Eddie is taken aback, asking, “What are you apologizing for?”

“That was a lot. I know.” He explains. Eddie is baffled. Steve has never cared how much he adds to Eddie’s plate, until lately.

Eddie isn’t sure what to make of it. He laughs it off. “Yeah, well. I’ve been thoroughly compensated for my time, so don’t worry about it.”

Steve almost frowns - like the reminder of their work relationship had bummed him out for all of two seconds before his face smoothed over. “Of course. Still. Let me offer you a small bonus - dinner. Anything you want.”

Eddie is pleased at the offer, the thoughtfulness of it but also, how dinner sounds, just, amazing right now.

So, Steve orders them dinner. Eddie checks in with him, and then at insistence from Steve that he wear something more comfortable than the formal wear they had posed in lastly, he puts on his sweatpants and a band shirt, getting cozy on the couch.

Steve joins him, and Eddie is tense for all of two seconds until he clicks the tv on, asking Eddie what they should watch.

They spend the rest of the time settling on something, Steve eventually getting the door when the delivery arrives. As he retrieves their order, Eddie stands up, ready to head to the formal dining room, when Steve waves him off.

“Stay. I don’t have a tv out there.” He reasons.

Eddie is baffled. “Steve.” He protests, thinking of crumbs and grease and sauce, “I’m a messy eater.”

Steve only rolls his eyes. “I have maids. Plural. Now sit.”

Eddie knew that. He sits. It’s so weird.

Weirder still to watch Steve pop open the box of pizza on that same expensive coffee table, moaning in a way that will haunt Eddie’s dreams at the way the cheese pulls when he takes it from the box and puts it on a plate, offering Eddie the first slice.

They eat, the TV plays, and Eddie decides to analyze it all at a later time, even relaxes a bit.

“I was thinking…about what you said about giving me a key?” Steve tells him after a while, his eyes locked on the food below him.

Eddie swallows his bite before asking. “Yeah?”

Steve fidgets. “I…What I mean is, I took it to mean that you plan to keep your apartment?”

Oh. “I…I wasn’t thinking.” Eddie explains.

“We should discuss it.” Steve looks down. “I assumed you would live here…I’m hoping you’ll be amenable to it. I uh, I have a guest room that should suffice…But then there’s the matter of your apartment. If you were looking to get it back after the divorce, I would be willing to rent it out under a surname, shell corporation, something - I don’t know legal shit but like - whatever you need. I’d pay to hold it until you can take it back, if that’s something you wanted.”

Eddie is floored. “I’m not that attached to it, honestly. I uh…what I mean is, I can look for a new place. After. I’d be okay with that. I know you don’t believe in my music. But I do…So, if there’s shows to be played, records flying off the shelves…hopefully…I’ll have some money come in, and I can get something else-”

“You’ll have that option, Eddie. But even if you didn’t, I wouldn’t put you out on the street. We’ll work something out.” He clears his throat, Eddie can’t help but agree.

“Okay. So…cool. So…we’ll live here.” He says. In this expensive, massive, apartment, with a view. Geez.

Steve nods. “…Do you know when you want to formally move in?”

He’s baffled. “I figured you’d want to run out the clock, I know you like your space.”

Steve fidgets. “I actually don’t mind. Uh not just the living together part but…any of this. You’re really easy to be around.”

Eddie clears his throat, wipes his crumbs from his shirt and cringes. Changing the subject.

“Oh!” He perks up just a bit. “So, if that’s settled, we should discuss when my last day working for you will be.” He suggests.

Steve groans, all but sagging into the couch like he’s suddenly overcome with melancholy. Insists, “I don’t want to talk about that.”

Eddie, thinking it’s for the wrong reasons, keeps his tone gentle. “Stevie, we discussed this. You can have me as an assistant, or you can have me as a husband, but you can’t have both.”

Steve just huffs. “Do you know how hard it was to find someone competent?”

“I will vet the next guy myself, and personally call all of his references.” He’s chuckling, “You won’t be left hanging. I’ll make sure he knows how you like things.”

“It’s more than that.” Steve sighs. “You were the best. You anticipated my needs.”

Eddie blinks - surprised. Steve chews his lower lip. If he’s successfully disarmed by this, then it might be advantageous for Steve to offer his whole truth. A necessity, if he wants to keep Eddie. And god, he wants to keep him. Never wants to let him go.

Confesses, “Solo tu mi capisci.” Wistfully, even if Eddie can’t understand him fully. “It’s why I lied about your demo…I…I knew if I produced it, that I would lose you as an assistant. That was a dick move. And I’m sorry.”

Eddie doesn’t react how he expects him to. He sounds exasperated. “Dude.” He gasps. “You say sorry for everything now, do you realize that? Sorry for this and sorry for that just…stop. It’s not needed. Okay? I get it. I’ve always gotten it. I wouldn’t have kept working for you if I thought you were fully evil.”

Steve doesn’t mean to, but he hopes. It’s as close a compliment as he could deal with, ironically enough. “You mean that?”

Eddie laughs. “Of course. So…are we good? Nod if we’re good.”

Steve nods. Eddie says, “Awesome.”

Steve chooses to press his luck even further. “Would you…maybe want to stay? Feel free to say no but, the guest room is made up and I…I thought too that uh, we could get to know each other more?”

Eddie makes a face. “I don’t know, I don’t think I have anything to wear.” His tone is deadly serious.

The two of them share a look, before bursting into giggles.

“Oh wow. He really did a great job, didn’t he?” Eddie murmurs.

He’s at Steve’s apartment, as he had been every night since the first time Steve had asked him to stay.

His things had followed him here - little by little, slowly taking over the guest room as he transitioned from living in his own apartment to living here full time.

It wasn’t as difficult of an adjustment as he might have expected…Steve had been downright accommodating and the apartment was so nice.

He’d known that already of course, but on a recent work night he’d confirmed it.

Steve had dismissed him early - saying for a room full of their coworkers to hear that he would be home to him in an hour or two, and Eddie had used that time to go into rooms he’d never been in, telling himself that it was fine.

And what the whole place lacked in personality, it made up for in a wine fridge, a million windows, and a really great bathtub.

Fast forward to now, Eddie is peering over Steve’s shoulder while he sits with his laptop displayed in front of them, both of them looking over the edited images that Johnathan had sent Steve.

“He really did.” Steve agreed. Pointing to his favorite. A soft yellow sweater and floral shirt image, with his hair just so, Eddie’s tattoos prominent.

“I like that one I think, for the announcement? What do you think?” He smiles at Eddie. He’s been doing it more and more lately.

Eddie grins back. “A fine choice.”

Steve goes to say something else - but before he can, the pair of them are interrupted by a knock on the door, the two men sharing a look between each other.

“Did you…order something?” Eddie asks. But Steve looks equally confused.

“No.” He stands, crossing the room to answer the door. Eddie cranes his head to see who it is - wondering if he had his days mixed up, and Robin was supposed to be meeting them - but that doesn’t seem to be the case.

When Steve answers the door, there’s a middle aged man there in a light colored suit, a scowl on his face that Eddie would have known anywhere, because he had seen it, indirectly, every day. Would have known it even if Steve didn’t choke out, “Dad?”

“Steve.” His father - Richard Harrington - stands stoically, ominously inclining his head. “Aren’t you going to let me in?”

He looks over at Eddie then, announcing louder because he appeared to be part of this now too, “I want to talk to the both of you.”

Steve shakes his head, voice thready and his face pale, “Listen, whatever this is, whatever you came here for-”

His father pushes past Steve and into the apartment, speaking over him. “Your mom will never hear about any of this,” He says, looking over the whole place in disdain.

Picking imaginary lint up off the back of the couch, Richard explains. “Jim Hopper called me. He told me all about your sham wedding.” He scoffs, his face all twisted up in rage.

“You flew across the Atlantic for this?” Steve glares at him.

Richard just rolls his eyes, and Eddie is shaken at how eerily similar the sight is. Only, unlike Steve - pretty, bitchy, Steve, this scorn was something ugly. “We live in Manhattan now, Steven.” He chides him.

Steve throws his hands up in exasperation. “Well you never sent a Christmas card!”

His father ignores that. “Steve…When it comes out that this is a fake relationship, and it will, you will not be able to enter back into this country.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Steve says hysterically. “I love Eddie.” And Eddie’s heart still swoops to hear it, even though he knows it’s not true.

“You didn’t convince the immigration officer, and you won’t convince me. It’s all just too convenient, Steve. Ignoring the unnaturalness of it all, you think I don’t know a means to an end when I see one?”

“You’re wrong. And you need to leave.” He grits out.

Richard sighs. “Just let me help you, son. There’s no need to risk your whole future on this, on some nobody. Did you even verify his background? He comes from thieves and scum in some no-name town in Indiana. His most recent legal residence is in a trailer park, for fucks sake! He’s nothing.”

Eddie tries not to show how affected he is by that, but Steve doesn’t.

“Shut up!” He shouts. “You don’t know him. You don’t know me. You don’t - you couldn’t even fathom what it’s like, to love someone based on who they are inside, not what they come from or what they have or even - yes dad - what they have going on downstairs!” He laughs.

“Don’t be crass.” Richard snaps back. Shaking his head in disappointment in a way that Steve was so familiar with. “I know it’s difficult for you, but please, try to see sense. If you allow this nonsense to continue, everything that your mother and I worked to give you, will have been for nothing.”

Steve’s only more enraged at that, stammering before managing to spit out. “You have given me nothing. You left me with nothing. Everything that I have, I earned. Without you.”

His father sneers even more then. “The only reason you knew how to walk in the right way, and dress the right way, and talk in the right way - is because of us. You’re not a self-made man Steve. You are what we made you. You owe your entire existence to us. Something you seem to need reminding of. And yet, as ungrateful as you are, still, I come all the way here on your behalf, to negotiate a deal-”

Eddie isn’t sure what they say from that point. It’s all in Italian. The argument dissolves into words that fly too fast and brutal for Eddie to ever hope to comprehend.

Finally, Steve gets him out of the door, just as he’d been threatening to do from the moment that Richard had gone after Eddie, all while his father snaps, “Don’t be stupid, Steve.” His forehead scrunching in frustration.

Steve just scoffs at that, and at his fathers resigned head shake, his accusatory “Inutile.” Steve slams the door in his face.

The sound echoes in the large apartment, Steve’s hands trembling once it’s all finished.

“Jeez.” Eddie mutters, lingering nearby, as Steve’s chest is heaving still. He whirls at Eddie - and then opens his mouth to apologize.

“Don’t you dare.” Eddie glares playfully at Steve.

Steve barks out a startled laugh. “Fuck, I -” he choked on the confession that wants to come out. Strangles it in his throat. “Thanks.” He says finally, lamely. Then he groans, rubs his eyes.

“No, thank you.” Eddie replies with a little chuckle. “Not every fake fiancé would so valiantly defend my honor.” He clutched his hand to his heart. “It was very sexy of you.”

He’s only half joking. But it works to make Steve laugh, still a little breathless.

“I wish you hadn’t seen that, are…are you still sure about this?” Steve asks, his voice rough from all the screaming. Worried too, that his father would have shaken Eddie’s confidence in the plan, Eddie thinks.

He tries to give Steve a reassuring look, to show him that’s not the case. “I’m still sure.”

Steve doesn’t feel much better. “I suppose that’s…good.”

Eddie frowns, hates the way Steve is still shaken and…so hurt. It isn’t fair. Eddie moves closer, promising, “He’s wrong, you know. You don’t owe him anything.”

Steve’s smile is worn, and Eddie closes the rest of the gap. He comes careening into his space, expression softening as their foreheads knock together gently. Both of them leave them.

“I know you don’t like to hear praise from me that you haven’t asked for - but you’re going to right now.” Eddie explains, quickly tacking on. “So suck it up, Buttercup.”

“No.” Steve shakes his head, not at the declaration, but at the nickname.

Eddie huffs. “Not Buttercup? Damn okay…You’re my angel…dust. Wait, no, that's a drug.”

“Say what you were gonna say or I’m walking away.” Steve jokes. Eddie grins back.

“Dick, he thinks you owe him. You don’t. Everything you have, from where I’m standing, looks to have been accomplished in spite of that asshat. Not thanks to him. That was certainly not a man who had a hand in bringing up someone as awesome as you - as smart, as funny, as kind-” Eddie declares.

Steve gasps, “Kind?” Like he can’t believe it.

“Oh you’re a bitch, don’t get me wrong.” Eddie laughs, voice admiral. “You’re not nice, per say…but you are kind. You act in favor of those you care about. I’ve seen it. Not just tonight, but in a million small ways before now.”

Steve gapes at him, swallows past the lump in his throat. “Eddie…” he starts. Aches to kiss him. Can’t. “No one has ever…” he trails off in a laugh, muttering. “Non ti merito.”

Eddie looks at him curiously. Steve has said too much. Unable or unwilling to elaborate without putting the whole thing they have in jeopardy, Steve takes a half a step back, breaking their contact.

Clears his throat. “Do you want to look at some more photos? I suddenly really want to get this announcement out. I might put it in the newspaper.”

“And have it handed out at your dad’s country club.” Eddie agreed.

Steve barks out a laugh - “How did you know he goes to a - you know what, never mind, I answered my own question.”

The night before their scheduled interview is spent much the same as every other night since the photo shoot.

Eddie and Steve, Steve and Eddie, existing in their home.

Steve’s got Eddie practically splayed out in his lap, and is touching up the black polish on Eddie’s nails, a surprisingly steady hand for it.

Eddie is trying not to giggle and kick his feet. And failing, only to settle himself with one stern look from Steve.

When they’ve almost finished, Steve gets a call on his cell that had sat on the coffee table. “Oh hang on, I gotta take this.” Steve tells him. Eddie nods, thinking it’s an important business call until he hears Steve cheerfully say, “Hey Wayne.”

Phone tucked up to his ear, he resumes painting Eddie’s nails while chattering amicably with Eddie’s uncle - in a way that Eddie quickly deduces, is not for the first time.

Eddie squeaks in betrayal. Steve levels another look at him. He keeps still.

The two chat while Steve finishes up, before Steve caps the polish and gives Eddie’s shoulder a little squeeze, releasing him to sit up, the fidgety man peering down at the flutter of his fingers.

A few minutes later, Steve gets off the call, telling him, “Wayne says hi.”

“I should be telling you that, Steve. Since when are you two so close, hmm?” He presses, batting his eyes at the other man. Not really bothered, Steve’s sure.

“Aw, don’t be like that. He called me the other day, just checking in. I told him about the deal we were working on - he wanted to follow up, see how it went.” Steve grinned.

“He’s adopted you.” Eddie clarified. “You’re his son now.” Eddie leaps agilely to his feet then. Meandering over to the kitchen with a hum. “Gosh, he’s going to be devastated by the divorce. Might try and keep you in the settlement once we’ve separated.” He laughs lightly, only joking, thinking nothing of it.

But his comments roll around in Steve’s mind long after they’ve passed.

Steve tries not to let them get to him - and maybe they shouldn’t affect him to such a degree, but Eddie has held strong to the agreed upon plan all this time.

Even with Steve attempting to ‘woo him’ as Robin put it, Eddie was never affected. He stayed the course.

And Steve…was feeling less and less confident about keeping him.

But more than that.

He’s started to get cold feet about this whole thing. The more he sees of Eddie - the more the other man relaxes around him, the less confident Steve is that he can go through with it.

It comes to a head at the forefront of their interview, with both men sitting in front of Hopper, side by side.

Steve thinks to the woman that had gotten arrested their first time here - how terrified she had been. Imagining the two of them getting caught and Eddie going through that…

Or the inverse.

Say they succeeded here. Say they passed with flying colors - his visa is approved and Eddie bound to him in all ways but the one that matters.

He imagines the first few days and months after they are married. Eddie would continue to be a good assistant, and a doting husband, until the heat is off and then…he would pull away.

He would leave his job, start his music career, his real life, they would eventually divorce, break Wayne’s heart, and Steve…

Steve would be heartbroken too. In love with a man who is too good for him.

And too good for what he was asking. Too good to risk when even the best outcome at this point, would have stolen years of his life for Steve’s sake.

Steve who suddenly can’t breathe when he imagines it.

In front of him, oblivious, Hopper is explaining to them what they are agreeing to undergo today - how the process will work, what kind of scrutiny they will be under. Reminding them once again of the consequences should they fail.

He hears none of it. Eddie is at this side, more assured of the plan now, nodding along in the right places. And Steve…

Steve is staring at him. Like it’s his first time seeing his face, or maybe his last. Committing it to memory, because he has an unshakeable feeling that there won’t be a chance to again.

He’s so fucking beautiful.

“Did you have a question, Steve?” Jim Hopper asks him then, looking pointedly at him.

Steve swallows. “Uh, no…” he supplies. Confusion has started to take over Eddie’s face.

“Your hand is up.” Jim informs him. Oh. So it is.

“Oh it’s…it's not a question, but I do have something I have to say.” He supplies.

“Steve.” Eddie says sternly.

He can’t bring it in himself to meet the other man’s eye. Lowers his hand, his gaze, and murmurs, “It’s okay, Eddie. You’re off the hook.”

Then he glances up to Hopper, tells him. “I have a confession to make…about the wedding.”

Jim raises an eyebrow, and Steve charges forward in the same span, “I forced Eddie to marry me. He…he has all these big dreams. And I knew that if I threatened to destroy them, he would do just about anything…So I blackmailed him, to come here to lie to you. And I thought it would be easy to watch him do it. But it wasn’t and I can’t ruin his life…” he clears his throat.

“It was my fault.” Steve finishes.

“Steve,” Eddie protests, his voice small.

He looks at him now, his eyes glassy. “I’m sorry but, this was a business deal and you held your end…so I will honor my part of it.” He swears. “I will make sure that you get your record deal…you’re a really talented musician, Eddie. You deserve it.”

It sounds like a goodbye.

Eddie opens and closes his mouth, but Steve has already turned his face to level a stare at Hopper, insisting, “You can’t penalize him. He was coerced…under duress…I-I don’t know legal shit, but, it wasn’t his fault.”

Jim chuckles in a humorless way. “Technically no crime was committed as of yet, so I think we can let his involvement in this slide.”

Steve nods. Eddie is still reeling, floundering for what to say as Steve presses further, “So, what now?”

“Well now that you’re leaving voluntarily, it all becomes very civilized. You have 24 hours to head back to Italy. I suggest you get a move on. I’ll be in touch.” Jim dismisses him.

With understanding Steve stands, and he flees. Hopper lets him leave, kicking his feet up on the desk. Smug.

Eddie had just had the rug pulled from under him, and he’s smirking, tone mournful. “I always get my man.” He sighs, shaking his head. “Pity.” Looking Eddie over, he suggests. “You’re free to go, kid. Consider yourself lucky.”

Lucky.

Eddie stands, walking out of the office before breaking into a run. He ends up on the busy sidewalk where not too long ago, Steve had gotten down on his knees to propose.

He’s nowhere to be found.

Eddie stands out there until it starts to rain. Only the wet drops on his face make him move - shielding himself from the storm as he pulls out his phone, looking to order a car on his app - his app that has fucking Steve’s place listed as his most frequent address now.

He breaks. Dials Wayne immediately instead of ordering his car. Blurts out, “The wedding is off.” As soon as Wayne answers.

Wayne waits a beat. Eddie breathes. Finally, his uncle asks. “…Are you okay?”

So Eddie tells him. All of it.

“So, uh, am I okay? No. Uh…I just feel…” He starts to shake with barely contained laughter. “You know what the problem is? It’s that this man is a gigantic pain in my ass. I mean, first he makes my life hell, for years. Years! Years I worked for this terrorist, and he doesn’t have the decency, the humanity, to say a single nice thing to me. Then he goes and he - he - unleashes every fucking kindness you can imagine, Uncle Wayne. He’s thoughtful, considerate, and fucking charming, okay? Only to take it all away again in one final, screw you Eddie. And I mean we had a deal right?!? We had a deal!”

He’s fully shouting now, breathing heavily. “We had a deal. And he pulls this…this crap.” Eddie trails off. Out of steam. Wayne clears his throat on the other end.

Eddie lets out a puff of air. “I’m sorry he just, he…he makes me a little crazy.” He explains.

“Yeah son, I can see that.” Wayne sounds amused. And then, gently, prompts. “So….you’re just gonna let him go?”

After having caught his breath, because - running - ugh - Eddie bangs insistently on the door to Steve’s apartment.

There’s a long pause. He bangs again.

A few moments later the door swings open, Steve there in what looks to be a very well worn gray shirt and jeans. Hair perfect as ever.

Mouth agape, he looks at Eddie - soaked from the storm - like he’s the last person he expected to see at his door.

Behind him, Eddie clocks the moving boxes stacked up all around the living room, labeled with sharpie.

He fumes at the sight.

Cell phone held to his ear still, Steve softly closes his mouth before he says, “Rob, I gotta go. I’ll call you back.” Then hangs up the phone. Shoves it deep into his pocket.

“What are you doing here?” He asks. None of the usual bite he usually puts in his tone.

“I needed to see you.” Eddie answers. Gestures to the boxes. “What the hell are you doing?”

“I’m going back to Italy.” He answers. Like it’s simple. Looking stressed, properly stressed for the first time Eddie can recall.

“Steve, what the fuck?” He stammers, short on what else he can say at this point.

Steve misunderstands. “I already made the calls about your record deal Eddie, there’s no stopping it now. The company bought your demo - they’ll get together with you about-”

“I don’t give a fuck about the stupid record deal, Steve!” Eddie gasps. “I care about you! What are you doing? Why are you doing this?”

Steve winces, stammering though his explanation as he reasons, “It’s like I told Hopper, Ed. I can’t watch you ruin your life for me. So I’m going home.”

“Home? That’s not your home, Steve. Your home is here. Where your job, where your best friend, where-” Where I am. He wants to say. Shakes his head in disbelief. “Steve, please.”

Steve swallows. “It’s just a job, Eddie. And Robin…she understands.”

“I don’t.” Eddie argues. “You’re running away. And you’re - you’re leaving me. What happened to - to I’m yours.” He reminds him of what he said in his office when he'd first hatched this scheme.

Steve looks broken at his question. “You were never mine Eddie. Despite that - Sei tutto ciò che non ho mai osato permettermi di volere - I’m sorry that I tried to claim you that way. I had no right. I can - I can see that now. It was never your burden to bear. Involving you was a mistake.”

Eddie flinches. “Are - are you really that aghast at being married to me?”

“The opposite.” Steve whispers.

“The opposite?” Eddie is incredulous.

“I…” Steve stutters.

Eddie’s angry again. His emotions knocking him from place to place at a breakneck pace. He’s done with the games, the manipulation, the carefully constructed answers. Wanting more. “Tell me the truth. You owe me that much.” He insists.

“Eddie.” Steve sighs, sounding like the older of the two of them. “What I asked of you was horrible. The blackmail was inexcusable and...You didn’t deserve it. And you didn’t deserve to be shackled to me, wrapped up in my lies and my bullshit. You’re so much better than any of it. You deserve so much…more.”

Eddie gapes at him. He continues. “And for the first time in a long time, thanks to you, I realize that I deserve more too. I deserve something that isn’t founded on deceit and pretending. I…I’m ready now, I think, to try and become a person who's worthy of it. And I have you to thank for it…because falling in love with you, it made me want to be a better person. Something I hadn’t felt in a really long time.” Steve smiles, and offers Eddie the door. “I’ll always appreciate you for that. Even if my heart aches to let you go.”

Eddie doesn’t hear the rest, if there’s more. All he’s heard is that Steve - Steve Harrington, his boss and his headache and his nightmare - and, most recently, his best friend…He loves him.

Steve loves him.

And like hell is he letting him get on a plane after that.

Steve tries to show him out, gently, but Eddie bristles against his touch, bursting at the seams to protest. “Wait! Wait! Just, wait…Steve, what if it wasn’t pretend. What if…I feel the same?” He implores.

Steve’s hopeful smile falls. “You don’t mean that.”

“I do.” He swears, choked up.

Steve shakes his head rapidly, voice low as he does that adorable thing he does when he doesn’t want to cry. “Trust me. You - You don’t really want to be with me.”

“Steve.” Eddie protests.

He swallows. “See, the thing is, there is a reason why I’ve been alone since Nancy. I’m not good Eddie. I’m ruinous and full of baggage, wrapped up in my own need to be self-serving. And maybe someday that’ll change, but I’ll be in Italy by then…So…It would be easier if we forgot everything that happened, and I just left.”

Eddie pulls Steve in, doesn’t let him go even as he won’t hear what he’s saying. “You’re right. That would be ‘easier.’”

“Eddie…” he argues.

“Steve.” He says again, more firm. “Listen to me carefully. I’m in love with you. So I’m going to need you to stop berating yourself and just marry me. Because I want to be with you and I can’t do that if you’re expelled from the country. We can figure everything else out later just, marry me, Steve. For real. And I will prove it. I will. I will spend every spare minute proving it. Proving that the way I feel is real.”

Steve shakes his head.

Eddie presses closer. “Steve. Pretty please, with cherries on top, marry me. I’ll get on my knees, even.”

Another head shake. “You had better not.”

“Later then.” Eddie says fervently. “Just…will you?”

Steve thinks. Eddie waits, until finally he whispers. “Eddie…I’m scared.”

“Me too! Terrified. Let’s be terrified together.” He laughs. And Steve stares at him for a few more seconds. Quiet. Contemplative.

“Stevie.” Eddie says fervently then, brown eyes glimmering with hope. “Nod if we’re good?”

Steve smiles, and he nods.

The tension in Eddie fades - and he kisses him. Really kisses him.

“So, let me see if I’ve got this right.” Hopper sighs, glaring sharply at the two of them, “You two are engaged again.”

“Yes.” The two men answer in tandem.

Hopper raises an eyebrow, “For real?”

“Yes.” Steve smiles as Eddie says “Yeah.” Both of them nodding along.

“You’re sure you wanna go through this - because one wrong answer and I’m gonna Take. You. Down.” He threatens.

Steve and Eddie look at each other briefly before looking back at Hopper.

“Okay.” They both simultaneously answer, a little timid but still sure.

Hopper smirks, the challenge long past accepted as he says enthusiastically. “Let’s do it.”

Series Masterlist Next Part: Part 7, Epilogue Previous Part: Part 5

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