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Fundamental Differing

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Chapter XVIII: I Gave My Life Away

pre warning: tags contain some non specific spoilers

warnings: 18+ MDNI mentions of a suicide attempt, alcoholism, narcotics addiction, depression. Adult content not meant for people under the age of 18. (spoiler for next tag!) Grinding/heavy petting, an inkling of smut. Angst, hurt feelings, heavy subject matter. reminder that this is fiction and i do not condone the actions of my characters! afab!gn!reader, they/them pronouns, rockstar!eddie, use of y/n lol i did not use y/n once!, pet names

a/n: i am… so sorry. that’s all i’ll say for now.

Disclaimer: I do not give permission to have my work reposted on other sites. Reblogs are more than welcome, but please inform me if you find my work elsewhere unless otherwise stated.

—

January 1991

Eddie’s POV

“Eddie? Eddie!” The voice is familiar, but too far away. He can’t see anything beyond a spinning figure, but he feels the harsh slapping on his face before someone drags him by his armpits into the bathtub. “Cmon, man, please.”

Then there’s water, and it’s cold, and Eddie’s trying to move but he can’t, he can only cough and choke as the shower spray gets into his nose and mouth.

“Oh fuck, thank fucking God.” Then there are footsteps, and Eddie’s hauled out of the bathroom on a stretcher, the frantic voice following closely behind.

-

Present Day

Eddie’s POV

“Ed, they’re looking for you. Two minutes.”

Eddie nods, waving the security off and turning back to her. “You’re still in Ohio, then?”

“Yeah, seems it. Nothing really goin’ on here, though.”

“Isn’t that kind of a good thing?”

She shrugs, her lips pursed. “Guess so, if it means you’re here.”

Eddie chuckles shyly. “Well, I should get moving, or Steve will have my head.

She nods eagerly, wrapping herself tightly around Eddie’s torso, causing him to shift uncomfortably. He hasn’t seen her since before, and he realizes now he’s not that person anymore. It causes his heart to skip with anxious energy.

“See ya.” She sends him a wink, and he waves as she turns on her heel to venture back into the crowd.

The security guard is still there, humming the chorus to Under The Bridge as it plays out of the house speakers, leaning against the wall as he waits for Eddie to finish with the pretty, dainty girl he’s with, and Eddie returns to him like a scolded child. “Alright, let’s go.”

“That your girl?” He asks, making small talk with the rockstar he has likely no interest in.

Eddie shakes his head. “God, no. A friend, maybe. Not even that much, not anymore.”

“Guy like you doesn’t need to dwell on that, man. Sure you got plenty of ladies lined up for a chance with you.”

He snorts, amused by this guy’s casualty. “You’d be surprised.”

The guard escorts Eddie all the way to the stage, where Steve is seething and huffing about, arms crossed tightly over his chest. “Sorry, sorry. Ran into someone.”

Steve’s expression softens slightly at the mention. “Was it-“

“Yeah. But it’s fine, really. Civil, even.”

“Right. In that case, I’m still mad at you,”

“Sure, of course. Can we hold off on my discipline until after the show?”

Steve runs a hand through his hair, breathing deeply as if to prevent himself from taking a swing at Eddie. “Fine. Go.”

Eddie bows his head to thank him, and takes his place next to his bandmates, who’d been left waiting restlessly for their frontman, again. “Hey-“

“Shut up.” Jeff silences him. “Don’t wanna hear it.” And it’s fair. They shouldn’t have to listen to his excuses. He’s supposed to be working on himself, and all he’s managed to do is piss off the people that matter to him most. The house lights dim, and Eddie watches as the crowd grow feral, shoving toward the stage, shaking the metal barricades standing between them and the stage. His heart thumps in his ears, in time with the crowd’s eager chants of “COFFIN, COFFIN,” a command he’s inclined to obey. It drags him forward, led by his band onto the stage to present themselves to a mass of people that want to tear them apart.

The stage lights up with the first chord, and Eddie hears the audience beyond his monitor. He looks back to Gareth, who’s awestruck at the noise, then to Jeff who holds his hand over his chest, genuinely thanking these people for coming. Eddie wants to feel it, too. The warmth these people seem to offer his friends, but he’s somewhere else. He can’t get used to it, like he’s wearing shoes half a size too small. It makes him shift uncomfortably inside his skin, constantly feeling the eyes of thousands on him, relying on him, there for him. It’s then that he realizes he’s sober on stage, for the first time in five years.

He’d stuck to his word, now twenty four hours without consuming a drop of alcohol. He feels his chest tighten, like a hand made of knives has broken open his ribcage to squeeze his heart until it pops. His lungs will fill with his own blood and he’ll choke, he watches as it flashes before him, a panic stricken fantasy but Eddie wouldn’t say unrealistic.

His friends are looking at him. The crowd is calming with their increased confusion; a late start and now a strange, empty pause. He has to fill it. He can’t find you, and he’s taking too long, and it’s starting to confuse his band, so he shouts into the blackness “HELLO, COLUMBUS!” and the room combusts with the release of tension. “I am so sorry we’re late. Thank you for waiting. Let’s burn this fucking place down.” Gareth hits his sticks together, both a warning and a courtesy that there’s no stopping now, and Eddie rides the momentum. He nails every incoming note without thought, and he can feel the vibrations through the building, both of the music and the crowd. He gets the same rush he used to, when he was wide eyed and bushy tailed, younger and in love with the life of a rockstar. For a second, he feels it again, in the same place he’d felt the least alive at this time two years ago.

-

Your POV

“What the hell!” You stomp up to Steve, screaming over the noise of the stage into his face. “Tell me what the fuck is going on.”

Steve only smirks. “How does it feel, huh? To not have a fucking clue what’s going on? He’ll tell you. I can’t-“

“Blah!” You throw your hands into the air, “I get it, you can’t tell me. Just… who’s the girl?”

Steve’s smile only grows. “Are you jealous?”

You groan, more from exhaustion than embarrassment. “Of course I’m fucking jealous, Steve! Don’t play dumb! Please, don’t make me feel stupid.”

His face falls, and he grabs you by the shoulders, jolting you into focus. “You have nothing to worry about. That I do know.”

It’s not enough, but it’s all you’re gonna get. You can’t help but respect it, the commitment to keeping Eddie’s business to himself. Truth be told, Steve is probably dying to tell you. “It’s that big, huh?” He nods sadly, and you mirror him in understanding. “But he’s going to tell you. He’s gonna tell you everything, and it’s gonna be a lot to digest. So I’ll be here when he tells you.”

“Steve, you’re scaring me.”

He nods. “That’s my intention. You might not get the answers you want, but you’ll get answers.”

-

You watch the tail end of their set with your brain going in circles. What could Steve possibly mean, the answers you don't want? What answers do you want? Who’s the girl, for starters. But mostly, what happened, in the two years without contact? What made you so angry? You can’t imagine an answer heavy enough to break you, not off the top of your head. Whatever it is, you want it. Even if it’s just to understand Eddie a little more. Even if it means he can’t be with you. Even if it means you have to let him go.

“Thank you!” Eddie shouts after the final note of a song you couldn’t name. “Thanks for comin’ out, Columbus!” The crowd shrieks, ratting your brain inside your head. “And give it up again for DEATH DANCE APPROXIMATELY!” The crowd politely continues cheering, and a small girl next to you sends you a bright smile. “So, so grateful to have them on this whole tour with us, you have no idea.” Eddie laughs bashfully, out of character for him to do while on stage. It’s a small thing, something you shouldn’t have noticed, but of course you did. He’s nervous. You squint, as if it will help you read him better, and it doesn’t. “This is our last song, I wanna hear you all. Loud as you can, alright?” The crowd whoops, and Corroded Coffin start in on Sweetheart, and you almost choke on your tears immediately.

Eddie has always said the closing song is the most important. It’s the one freshest in their mind, the one that will stick with them the most. It has to be perfect. He’d never used Sweetheart as the closer, and it’s obvious Gareth and Jeff weren’t ready for it, probably assuming Eddie skipped it reading the setlist. Eddie’s voice shakes slightly as he sings, but it’s perfect. His eyes stay closed the whole time, and you desperately wish he’d open them, find you in the wings, and sing the words to you again. Like he had, any time you’d asked him to just because you could. You sing along, lose yourself in the lyrics for the first time in years, actually hearing the words meant for you.

And then it’s over, and they’re thanking the crowd and bowing, and walking off stage, and even though you know you’re gonna see it all again night after night, even though you have seen it tens of times already, you miss it. The feeling of a shrieking crowd feeling all of their feelings while you feel yours. The feelings you hope you can give to your own audience. You feel like a teenager seeing their favorite band for the first time, and you’d forgotten how good that felt.

Robin seems to appear from thin air next to you. “Hey!” She semi-shouts over the bustling crowd. “Are you crying?” It’s a question you should absolutely be used to by now. You hadn’t noticed this time, though. “Oh!” You sniff, wiping a tear from your cheek. “Yeah, guess I was. Not sad, though.” Not necessarily true, but for now a nonissue.

“We’re all goin’ out tonight.”

You shake your head. “I’ll catch up.” She frowns at you. “It’s okay! I’ll tell you everything I can after.”

The possibility of a gossip session soothes her curiosity, and she squeezes your arm before continuing to wiggle through the crowd. You follow her backstage, into the massive dressing area backstage, where Eddie sits with his bandmates in a circle of metal fold out chairs, each of them holding a beer. Besides Eddie, who fiddles with the label of his water bottle.

“Right!” Jeff pats Eddie’s knee as he speaks, “We’re goin’ out. celebrating our biggest show to date.”

It’s then that Eddie lifts his eyes and catches you staring. You don’t bother averting yours to the floor, already having been caught red handed. “Do you guys mind if I sit this one out? I uh, have a prior engagement.” The girl, you’re sure. The girl you have nothing to worry about, the girl Eddie knows in the nowhere state of Ohio. You chew on the inside of your lip until you draw blood, anxious and suddenly unsure of everything Steve had tried to warn you about.

“Yeah, man, of course. Come out if you change your mind, though.” With that, Gareth and Jeff exit the room, and your friends follow suit soon after, leaving you and Eddie alone.

-

Eddie’s POV

Now, I have to do it right now. “Hey,”

You face him, eyes wide with questions he so desperately wants to answer for you. Your hands are clasped tightly together, your knuckles white and arms flexed, jaw clenched. “You wanna get some coffee?”

Your nod is vigorous, and he holds his elbow out for you. You quickly latch onto him, and Eddie feels just how anxious you must be. He can’t imagine where your head’s at, with your nightmares and your constant, irritating habit of caring about him so much. He’s exhausting you, and all he wants now is to let you rest.

Eddie asks a remaining staff member to escort the two of you out the back way, and into the warmth of the summer night. “Is there even somewhere that sells coffee around here? Let alone somewhere that’s open?” You joke, and he chuckles.

“I guess I didn’t think that far ahead. Ah!” He points down the road, to the glowing 7-Eleven sign. “Onward!” You laugh, and it floods through Eddie, like it’s drenching his head in ice water, refreshing him. He’s since dropped his arm, but yours stays locked around him, like if you let go he’d run away. As if he’d ever think to do such a thing.

He breaks the thick silence finally, after several minutes of walking through it. “You uh, said you wanted to talk?”

You look up at him. “I did?”

“Yeah, uh, this morning? We didn’t really get the chance.”

“Oh. Oh, yeah I guess so. I just,” You shake your head, frustrated, “I have questions.”

“Okay,” Eddie shrugs, trying to seem nonchalant. He wants to give you the answers. Finally, he wants to be completely open with you.

“Okay?”

“Yeah, shoot. I’ll answer your questions.”

“Any of them?”

“All of ‘em, sweetheart.” He can’t help it, he loves watching you shy away at the nickname, cute and soft, under all that armor.

-

Your POV

“Okay…” You have to be careful. One wrong move, and he’s shutting you out again. “Where’d you go tonight?” A subtle way to ask it, you think. Not accusatory, just curious, bordering on nosey.

“I ran into an old friend. From group.” You snap your neck, catching the words he says so casually.

“Group?”

Eddie nods, “NA-slash-AA.”

This is nowhere near where you thought this conversation would go. Every question you’d had crumbles at his answer. “What?”

“I’m more of a casual attendee, lately.” You feel your head fill up with more questions, and you’re drowning. “When did you-“ You’re expecting him to cut you off, but he waits. “When did you start going to meetings?”

Eddie looks to the sky as if to find the answer in the blackness above. “Early into 1991. There was still snow on the ground.”

“What um,” You’re walking the tightrope here, and you heed Steve’s warning. “What made you decide to go?”

Eddie looks at you again, his expression sad. “Had a really, really bad night.”

“What happened?” You ask, too quickly. It’s not fair, and you don’t have any right to know the answer, but Eddie snorts a laugh, like this news isn’t breaking your heart to learn. “Steve saved my life. I’m surprised he hasn’t divulged this story to you, even with the fact that I begged him not to tell anyone. Took me years to even tell the guys. I had gotten so bad, I didn’t care what happened to me. I was drinking myself to sleep every night, wallowing in self pity, barely able to function. I was worse than any time before. Worse than I was when you’d called me that night.”

“What night?”

“You were drunk, you probably don’t remember. Sometime in September of the year before, I’d been up all night trying, and you called me at home.” The memory comes back in a tidal wave. You’d just finished recording your EP, your first cohesive body of work, and with it had been signed to Sub Pop. Things had been looking up for you after cutting things off with him in July, but somewhere far away, Eddie had been drowning.

Before you can say anything, he continues, “Anyway, we were on a kind of hiatus as a band, had been for about a year at this point. I had nothing to get me out of bed before three in the afternoon, nothing to distract me from my pity party. I went out every night, drank until I couldn’t see, and did lines in the bathroom with people I didn’t care to know. I probably slept with six or seven different people a week, sometimes more. I couldn’t stop, because then I’d have to feel my feelings, and I was so afraid of them. One time,” He has the gall to chuckle, “after I got kicked out of a bar in New York for trying to fight the bouncer, I was so wasted and beaten that I fell asleep in my front yard with my pants around my ankles. Really glad I don’t have neighbors.”

It all pours out so easily now, like he’s telling you about his trip to the grocery store. “I uh, only got worse after that.” He stops, and you look up at him, waiting with wide, stinging eyes. “You sure you want me to keep going?” You nod. You don’t want to know, but you have to. As much as you suspect it’s gonna hurt, it means something that he’s finally willing to tell you.

He pushes forward. “On New Year's Eve of ‘91, I mixed whiskey and Steve’s Xanax. Way too much of it. Harrington found me passed out in the bathroom of my hotel room at around 1AM and called an ambulance. I'd written a note and everything.”

He pauses again to let you digest it all, and the silence sends a piercing ring through your ears. The words coming out of his mouth feel so far away, disconnected from the mouth they’re coming from. You’d never known Eddie to give up. Nothing had stopped him before; from finishing high school, from getting out of Hawkins, from being a rockstar. Regardless of how angry, or frustrated, or beaten he'd gotten, Eddie had always bounced back.

He finally pulls you from your thoughts. “That was the worst of it, but it had been a long time coming. When we were,” He gestured lamely to the air, “seeing each other, I was usually either on a run or coming down. I didn’t hide it well, I was almost sure you’d known, or at least suspected something. I was so angry and twitchy all the time. As much as I wanted to, I knew I couldn’t bring you into it, though. I never wanted you to know, and in a lot of ways I still don’t. Actually, please tell me you don’t wanna know. I’ll shut right the fuck up.”

“Nice try, but you underestimate how nosey I am.” He laughs, and you smile despite it all. “When did you start, I guess doing coke?” He doesn’t think about it for long. “Ironically, New Year’s Eve 1990 was the first time. I was a pro at it by May. I'd been drinking heavily for years by then, guess I wanted to jazz it up to ring in the new decade.” He stops walking and pivots to look at you, suddenly eager, and in no way aware of how jarring what he’d just said was. “Do you remember when I would get nosebleeds all the time, or when I’d sneeze and there’d be a giant snot bubble?” You nod, your face contorting with disgust at the memories. You remember a specific time, when you’d been making out with him in his hotel room in Boston, and his nose had just started dripping blood onto your bare chest. He’d gotten so pissed off at himself he’s left without putting his shirt or shoes back on. “Yeah, that had nothing to do with the humidity. Deep down, I think you knew that.”

He’s right, but you can still feel the crack in your heart spiderweb and spread as you hear these suspicions about Eddie confirmed.

“When was the last time?”

“The first or second night of the tour, I think.”

“Are you still drinking?” Dustin’s question makes more sense to you now. You wonder how he’d found out.

Eddie hesitates, as if fighting himself on whether to answer truthfully. “I didn’t today. It’s the first full day I’ve gone in a while. Touring is always difficult, and I’m sure you understand why this time is uh, particularly stressful.”

“Because of me.” Obviously.

“Because I know how badly I’ve hurt you, and because I know I haven’t made it up to you yet. I haven't earned your trust or even your time by any means, and I hate that you’re seeing me like this when you should be enjoying your first full US tour.” He chokes the last words out. You’ve stopped walking again, waiting at a deserted intersection, not yet ready to cross. “I’ve been fucking up recently, which is why I haven’t said anything. It’s not because I don’t want you. I want you so, so much. I just can’t do it yet.”

“Eddie,” You reach for him, and he lets you. You hold his face in your hands, feeling his flushed cheeks warm your palms as you look at him under the streetlights. “You don’t earn things like help and support, Eddie, not from people that-“ You pause. Not now, it’s not fair. “People that care about you. Thank you for telling me, I can’t imagine what you must be feeling; surrounded by triggers at all times, having to see me so much. I never would have agreed to the tour if I’d known—,“

He cuts you off, shaking his head, wafting the scent of his shampoo at you. “Don’t do that, please. This is not your fault, this is my own undoing. You are exempt from blame here.”

“I wish I’d known you were struggling. I wish I could have helped.”

Eddie traps your hands with his own on his face. “I know. I do, too.”

A sob shoves its way through your lips, and you can’t rebuild the dam fast enough. You’re crying, ugly sobbing with snot and mascara painting your face into a sad clown. It may be a cry of relief, having finally understood where your love had gone, so to speak, and seeing a glimpse of him right now. A version of Eddie happy, warm. He smiles at you, a big, beautiful smile, but his eyes are so sad. “I wish I had known to ask. Would have saved us both so much trouble.” Eddie drops his hands to your waist and pulls you closer to him, your coffee quest long forgotten. “I am so sorry.”

“Thank you.” You do not fight it, because there’s so much for him to be sorry for, regardless of if you want the apology. You trust that he means it. “I won’t push you for anything else. But I need you to ask for help, when you need it. I'm not gonna turn you away.” You wrap your arms around his torso, as physical proof of your words. You feel his arms as they surround your head, and he pulls you further into his chest. His breathing deep and even, heart beating soundly, you let yourself inhale him, indulge in his closeness even for a second. You eventually start to pull away, but he catches you, and you crane your head up to look at him, your nose inches away from his. Eddie’s eyes flick to your lips. It’s a fraction of a second, but you notice because you always do. You mimic him, flicking your eyes over his soft, pink lips and back to his deep, sweet brown eyes.

He moves first, but you’re quick to follow, and Eddie catches your lips with his, and you fight the urge to once again burst into tears. The kiss is one you haven’t felt in so long, like sleeping in your own bed after months being crammed inside a van or a two star motel. It’s a deep, yearning type of kiss you hadn’t known you were missing. Eddie moves a hand to cradle your head, like he’s holding the most valuable thing in the world. He’s gentle, almost timid, like the wrong move will ruin everything, break you both into pieces you won’t be able to fit back together. His lips are so soft, with no aggression or anxiety behind them, no nervous, frantic energy like he needs to consume you before you disappear. He takes his time, and you swim in the calm of it all. You rest your hand on his jaw, your finger lightly brushing his ear, the other stuck with your palm against his chest, squished between your bodies.

The last time Eddie kissed you like this was the day before he almost died. Before he cut that stupid sheet rope and tried to be a hero, he’d held you like you were the only thing on earth worth dying for. This time, though, there’s no rush, no impending doom to cut it short. You wonder if you’re pushing it, if this is too much for him, because it’s almost too much for you.

You pull away for a second. “Is this allowed?”

He quirks an eyebrow. “I think I know what you’re asking, but what do you mean?”

“Like, while you’re recovering. Shouldn’t you be more focused on that?”

Eddie shrugs. “Probably. And I will be. But I’m sober right now, at least, and all I can think about is you. And now you know everything, and you still kiss me like I’ve always been worthy of it. Even when I’m still not.”

“Do I really know everything now?” You lace your fingers through his and resume your walk.

He looks at you. “Do you have more questions?”

You have so many, but you’re so tired, so emotionally drained. “What do you think about, when you think about me?”

Eddie snorts a laugh at your question and you hide your face in your free hand. “Nothing good. You’re under my skin, doll. Always have been. Hey, look at that,” you look to where he’s pointing, the bright lights of the 7-Eleven store. “I’m kinda over coffee. You wanna watch a movie? For old time’s sake?” You nod wordlessly as your heart skips about, and he opens the door for you so you can grab some snacks instead.

-

Another hotel room, with boring white walls and bright white bed sheets. Eddie’s suitcases already sit in the corner, placed there by the hotel staff, complimentary mints on the pillows. Eddie flicks the bedside lamps on before fiddling with the remote, and you immediately realize, you’re once again without your own clothes. “Could I borrow-“ Eddie throws a shirt that lands perfectly draped over your face and you’re overwhelmed with his scent. “Thanks.” You deadpan, removing the fabric. He’s tossed a pair of his shorts onto the bed in front of you as well, and you’re silently grateful, because you wouldn’t have asked for them. He quickly flings his shirt off his head, and you watch as he swaps his jeans for a pair of worn flannel pajama pants.

Eddie then clicks the TV on, searching the channels aimlessly for something to watch before quickly giving up, muting it on a late night talk show. “How are you doing?” He’s already sprawled on the bed, resting his head in his hand to look at you, still in your clothes.

“I’m just digesting, I guess.” You face away from him to pull your sweat soaked shirt over your head and toss it on the floor, feeling his eyes on your bare back. You never wear a bra onstage, but you’re regretting it now. You yank Eddie’s shirt over your head to hide your butt as you yank your tights down, suddenly very aware of the color of your panties: red, and far too lacy for these circumstances. You yank Eddie’s boxers up your legs, and feel decent enough to face him again.

“We have to stop meeting like this.” He blurts as you slide into the space next to him, on top of the covers still.

“What do you mean?”

“After dark, sharing a bed, sharing my clothes,” He gestures to you, dressed head to toe in Eddie Couture. “Someone might see us. People are gonna start getting suspicious.”

“You think they’re not already?” You shift to lay on your side, now looking at him straight on. “We aren’t exactly being discrete as of late.”

He gives you a half shrug. “Does it bother you?”

“Does what bother me?”

“The fans, making assumptions.”

You think about your choice of words. “I thought it would. I think it bothered me more that they weren’t right.”

Eddie cracks a goofy smile, and you swat at him uselessly. “You want to be having a steamy secret affair with the douchebag frontman of Corroded Coffin?” He teases, poking at you.

“Oh, shut up.” There’s no malice in your voice. “You know what I mean. They have it all figured out. We’re together, in love, not ready to share it with the world or whatever. Much less complicated than whatever it is we’re actually doing.”

Eddie considers this for a moment. “Guess that’s true. I don’t think I could explain any of what we’re doing to Steve, let alone the public.”

You sigh. Poor, ignorant Steve. There’s only so much you’d be able to tell him for sure. “He’d have a heart attack.”

“I’ve already spooked him enough for a whole lifetime, I can’t drop this bomb on him too.”

“Let’s not worry about that. We don’t even know what we’re doing.”

“I just know I wanna keep doing it.” The way he says it sends you reeling instantly, drawing you into him, closing the distance between his lips and yours. You melt into him, wrapping your leg around his waist as he grips the flesh of your hip. Your hand slides effortlessly into his hair, tangling around your fingers, pulling a moan from Eddie’s throat as you tug him further into you. You can feel his gentry twitch in his pants, only a few thin layers of fabric separating him from your core. You roll your hips against him, sighing as his tip bumps against your clit, desperate for friction.

Eddie moves, latching his lips onto your throat causing your brain to fog. Your chest heaves as he nips at your skin, marking you, making your head swim with pleasure. You feel his fingers toying with the hem of his t-shirt, his calloused fingers sliding under the fabric to caress your skin, sending chills up and down your whole body. You shiver, and he pulls away. “Wanna stop?”

“Shouldn’t we?”

“That’s not what I asked.”

So you kiss him again, hungrier now. You help him yank his shirt over your head, abandoning it on the floor next to yours. Eddie shifts again, pressing your bare chest against his before breaking the kiss suddenly. “May I, uh,” He stutters like he’s a nervous teenager again, as if he’s seeing his first pair of boobs ever.

“Please.” You sigh, and it propels Eddie on, shifting down the bed until he’s eye level with your chest.

“God, I missed you.” He rasps, and you don’t have time to ask if he’s talking to you or your tits before he runs his tongue over your nipple, pulling a whine from your throat. You feel his other hand slide down your torso, freezing when it reaches the waistband of his boxers. “Sweetheart?”

“Yeah?”

“Would you let me take care of you?”

—

chapter XIX

haha hehe hahahahah ha ha. ha

tag list: @children-of-the-grave @five-bi-five @wiildflower-xxx @beebeerockknot @champagne-glamour @xxgothwhorexx @therensistance @chonkzombie @brxkenartt @sidthedollface2 @bibieddiesgf @gaysludge @eddiesguitarskills @littlepotatobeansworld @poisonedluv @kellsck @m-chmcl-rmnc

[neoarchipelago]

HERE’S THE CONTEST’S WINNERS! FUUUUUCK IT WAS SO SO SOOOO HARD TO CHOOSE !

You guys created AMAZING characters it honestly took 2 hours and the help of my Ghost to manage to make a choice!

Thank you so much for your participation you guys make me so happy!!!!

1

Name: Lupus grey

Callname: Grim (6R1M)

Age: in their 20s��

Gender: Non binary, masc leaning

Physical appearance: They have blue greyish eyes, redish/blonde shoulder length hair, they are rather short(about 5'6), slim - not really muscular. They usually cover their face with a fox mask because of a huge face dysphoria(the mask is shown in the mood board), they also have problems expressing their emotions so the mask helps with that

Backstory: Lupus Grey had always hated cold Berlin with its odd, outrageous old buildings. It was a place where they felt anxious but also at home. 

They were a patient, forgetful, coffee drinker with pretty eyes and a slim figure. His friends saw him as "the quite kid". They really were the silent type of person, thinking before using their words. But as soon they got comfortable they got loud and outgoing! 

Lupus had a.. Not so great childhood. Their problems were belittled. They were good at school but never good enough to earn some affection from their parents. They always wanted to become an artist but later found out that they had a talent for hacking too. They used that talent and hacked shady, big companies to force them to their knees. Someday they ended up finding hacker friends- in this case: sparrow!

@muttsstuff

2

Name :Richard

Nickname :Ricky

Code name :Car-Keys

He’s into khaki clothing (gets teased a little) but the main reason was because he lost the car keys in the drain when they were on a mission (was never let down)

Male - Asian Over- weight

Deep voice Loves dying his hair tips different colours (Depends on the mood)

Lives in his parents basement, loves to play MW2 but hacks games to his advantage.

He realised his potential and started broadening his hacking abilities and got rich off it.

Living with his parents is a cover (gotta stay hidden ya know)

@happy-potat0

3

Margo ‘Bishop’ Cassell

Age: 29

Female she/her

•5’6, doesn’t necessarily have a figure but she has “child bearing hips” all grandmas love and point out for some reason. Isn’t considered small but not how society considers “fat” she wears a size 12 pants if that gives an idea. 

•From Kensington Liverpool, grew up with wealthy parents in a slightly religious background. She’s almost the definition of old money yet also getting new money. Was in chess club growing up and also took computer science classes and learned to code, took it a step up by getting into hacking to change a grade for a friend to help them out. Moved on from getting into school grades to other… not so legal information. Promised to not do it again and eventually join British military much to her parents disappointment. 

•I also like the idea of Margo having a kid

•Bishops mood board

@sapchat

4

Name: Elizabeth/Liza

Callsign: coyote

Age: 29

Gender: Female

Physical description: Definetely redhead, and tallish, still shorter a bit than the boys though, slightly chub, so ofc insecure

Backstory: Started hacking cause the government of her home country was so so corrupt, Sparrow found her hacking the same system at the same time so they found her, Lashwell contacting, thy have been working together ever since. After a mission went wrong she was sent to the UK under a fake name for protection, thats how they lost touch for a bit.

@lilacwineandthesinkingsunmain

5

@jp2gmd2137

[dragonofeternal]

So one of the coolest bits of animanga ephemera that I own is probably these two volumes of the Epic Comics printing of AKIRA.

In 1988, American comics publishers were starting to take notice of the growing popularity of Japanese animation, and Marvel wanted a slice of the pie. A few years earlier, they had made the Epic Comics imprint to run more adult stories free of Comics Code censorship, including both standalone titles and non-canonical spinoffs of their more popular characters. The fledgling imprint seemed like the perfect place for a slice of that cool, weird Japanamation pie. They set their sights on Katsuhiro Otomo's AKIRA, which had done well in Japan and was set to get film adaptation that year. The editor of Epic at the time felt that the disaffected youth, psychic powers, and post-apocalyptic sci-fi setting would be familiar enough touch points to make the series resonate with American readers.

However, Epic didn't think that American comics readers would be as drawn to something that read "backwards" and was black and white. So, they did what would become the standard for many years- they flipped the pages to read left-to-right. They then enlisted colorist Steve Oliff to create a full-color version of AKIRA. While it's easy to jump to thinking of this as a butchering of the original work, Otomo was actually fully on board, as he wanted his work to reach as many people as possible. Otomo collaborated with Oliff directly at first, flying out to meet with him and share some of his personal desires for the coloring. He had some initial color guides, stills from the as-of-yet unreleased movie, and a deep passion and desire for his work to do well in the west. For the first five or six issues, Oliff sent all of his colorings off to Otomo for approval, but after that, Otomo was pleased enough that he gave Oliff free reign to go with his instincts for the rest of the comic's run. The colored version was even re-licensed, flipped back to the Japanese order, and released in Japan! I've never seen any copies of that, but I bet it's cool as hell!

I got these as a Christmas present sometime in the mid '00s from my Aunt Ing and Uncle David, who knew I liked anime and manga, but knew absolutely nothing about the stuff. They picked them up at a garage sale in DC for pocket change, and gave them to me along with a second hand copy of the DEVILMAN live action movie from 2004. I clearly remember them saying something along the lines of "Here, I hope you like this! We know you like that manga stuff. Hopefully 'Akira' isn't Japanese for like hardcore donkey porn or something, hahaha!" ...As if you couldn't flip the book open and see what was in it for yourself, Uncle David?

(Also worth noting that I had already seen the Akira movie at this point, so it's not like I didn't know what I was getting into!)

The manga (and the not-long-after release of the anime) made AKIRA a hit in the states. The Epic Comics run split the series into 38 issues that ran from 1988 to 1994. However, the legacy of Epic's colored run has an influence outside of just helping to introduce this iconic series to American readers.

It was also one of the first digitally colored comics.

Oliff and his company, Olyopitcs, were pioneers in using digital coloring methods. While he made initial color guides on paper versions of the pages using traditional methods like pantone films and paint, the finalized versions were all colored digitally, allowing for a wide, rich range of colors. This style of coloring incentivized Marvel to print it on slightly higher quality paper, and the series' success made Marvel more interested in looking to computers as a way to enhance their art and workflow. Perhaps he overstates it a bit, but Oliff credits his Eisner award-winning run as the colorist for AKIRA as the turning point for digital art's acceptance in comics.

It's unlikely that the colored version of AKIRA will ever be re-released, as the rights that Marvel held have LONG since traded hands, first to Dark Horse and then back to Kodansha. Copies of the colored version of AKIRA are hard to come by and pricy now, ranging from $10-100 for a single issue on eBay depending on condition and what particular issue it is (climactic issues are obviously more expensive than more laid back ones). It's not completely out of the question that it'll see the light of day again, however; Oliff still has all the digital files of the colored version of AKIRA, and he has expressed that he would be more than happy to have them reprinted if Kodansha wished to.

If not, though, I still have my two issues, and a very cool piece of anime localization history.

Historical info for this post was fact checked/sourced from this Japan Times article from their 30th anniversary retrospective and this 2016 ANN interview with Oliff. Feel free to check them out if you want to know more!

[lediz-watches]

Suspicious Minds

I uh… I may have lost my patience slightly in this episode. I’m sorry in advance.

But SERIOUSLY EVEN CARLOS MADE ME MAD. ARGH.

I’m liveblogging The Winchesters as a Supernatural!virgin. Please keep my lack of knowledge in mind if you continue...

In episode thoughts:

Oh dear! Gracious! Oh, my, I do so hope an honourable gentleman has come to – why, that’s not a gentleman! Goodness!

Such luck! I shall murder this woman with such style and grace! How wonderful!

Sorry, I’m done now.

Oh, Mary looking for life outside hunting! I actually am shocked this time.

But I’m reminded by how weird American college is. The idea of going to uni without knowing what you’re studying is so foreign to me. We apply for specific courses, and the entrance requirements change depending what you’re planning to study. In a non-American school, Mary would need to have a plan before even thinking about applying. It’s so odd to me.

Aww, Carlos is super twitterpated still.

And an idiot.

You know, some people think Mary Poppins actually is an eldritch creature, for the record. Just a good-aligned one.

…This actor looks familiar. Pause. It’s going to bother me until I find out.

MISTER SHEFFIELD! I KNEW IT! Mwuahahaha yessss! Okay, carrying on.

He feels like a future Lata. Except he’s distressing. Monsters may be monsters but I’m not on board with lobotomising people into service, believe it or not.

I take back my Lata comment. He’s like an evil Lata. Creepy good.

Oh, Roxy. Welcome back.

They’re acting like she looks like a mess, but she’s still gorgeous. Show, come on. She needs to clean some messy eyeliner and brush her hair. Some people spend hours on that look.

Lata… don’t you pull an Ada, on me.

Oh, this creepy dude is creepy but I’m kind of enjoying it, I’m not gonna lie.

You know, I know who Dean is, because of course, but if I didn’t, I would not have any reason to give a damn about the akrida wanting to kill him. I would, however, be confused about why they want to kill him. He has not yet actually had anything to do with the akrida, as far as I know, he’s just been AROUND. This is yet another instance of this show needing Supernatural to make sense.

Creepy good isn’t lying to you, kids, he’s just not telling you his life story. Why do you care why he’s got a vendetta against your enemies? Honestly, the way this group worries about morals sometimes is so all over the place. PICK A LANE. And don’t just tell me you’re hypocrites, that does not excuse you.

Oooh, Lata, I do hope you’re having fun in between shop talk dreams~!

Oh no. Creepy good did lie to you. He’s the assistant. How terrible?

Oh, no. In addition to LOBOTOMISING SENTIENT CREATURES he also did human experimentation. How shocking. Again, I have to wonder at the morals and ethics of this show. I think this is a me-problem, but I do not like the whole we-draw-the-line-at-physically-hurting-humans thing. If you’re willing to accept a guy torturing and enslaving sentient creatures, you should be willing to hear the context of the human experimentation. I’m not saying I’m okay with it, I’m just saying these characters should be. Be mad about it, sure, demand explanations, sure, but don’t go in guns blazing.

…phony accent, oh god, no, don’t do that, please. This actor is so very British, and that Southern Twang is a notoriously difficult accent to pull off.

…I like Roxy’s decision here. I like the allegory. Remember, and recover, and grow beyond your pain.

Oh, of course creepy good is creepy bad. But I stand by my statement about ethics. Of course he’s proven bad, but up until he did all this targeting the main characters bit, these characters feel like the type who would go along with bad morals For the Greater Good.

Who the heck is big guy and where did he come from?

Golems. Kay. The show has not explained how they work in this context. Golems, as far as I know, are creatures baked from clay and given a degree of sentience. And yet Mary is acting like they’re unforgivable magic.

Oh, look, John’s trying to be charming again. I wonder if the goo will go in his mouth.

…well, it didn’t, but uh… that’s a real human looking creature you just mercilessly killed in gruesome fashion.

And a legitimate human you just killed in less gruesome fashion.

ETHICS!

Mary. Mary, note what you are saying. Apply it to the actions John has taken so far. Please, Mary. Mary, please. Don’t say ‘us’, say ‘you’. Say ‘you’, Mary.

Okay, Carlos, I forgive you so many things, but comparing Roxy’s situation with yours is not particularly forgivable and you need to just not. Just no.

That was some TIMING, Millie. And cops. I was going to say what Akrida!Kyle is doing is almost a compelling twist on hearsay cases, but it’s been dramatised a bit much. You were so close to making me invested in a John storyline, show! So close!

Okay. So a few things here, and I think the main one I should address is my own prejudice. Because it’s another one of those things that stops me from watching a lot of fantasy and sci-fi if I’m honest.

I don’t like the idea that just because something is not human (strictly or otherwise) it should be considered fair game. There are multiple reasons I don’t like it, but I think in the end it comes down to this assumption that it-is-different-from-me-and-therefore-less. What this show calls monsters are all clearly sentient creatures with lives and thoughts and emotions. Even the akrida, which have basically been portrayed as worker drone ants, have jokes and preferences that were highlighted IN THIS EPISODE. They’re… remarkably human for CGI monster bugs.

But the show just Accepts As Fact that monsters are bad, humans are good. Even as it shows that humans are not good. They will slaughter monsters wholesale without blinking, and the Men of Letters quite rightfully seem to think of hunters as vicious killers willing to do terrible things in the name of what Dean calls righteousness, but physical harm to a human is Bad.

I mean, look how quickly they almost turned on Ada for the crime of (gasp) having a consensual relationship with a djinn. She had to rush to defend herself. Why? Maybe Supernatural gave a big long reason about why djinn are bad, but in all the stories I’ve ever read, they’re usually just as petty and loving and fickle as humans, with some extra power and less emotional control. Big deal.

And yes, Creepy Good was bad. I don’t mind him being bad. What I mind is the way Mary and John framed him as untrustworthy not because he did terrible things but because he… let himself in to the building that is much more his right to play in than theirs? They do realise they’re squatting in the Men of Letters’ house, right? Ada is literally the only one that’s supposed to be there. He had a KEY.

And the golem. I don’t have the context to understand the response Mary had to the golem. So as much as that dude came out of nowhere, so did the whole concept of him! Golems are not… the myth of golems is not consistent enough to just throw a golem into the story and have it be acceptable. Frikkin homunculi are more consistent and more recognisably Bad than a golem and yes I know in some stories they’re the same thing but golems are usually made of clay and homunculi are human parts and that would have fit Mary’s reaction a little better when mostly I’m just like golems are moving objects, so okay, cool use of magic?

-FURIOUS FLAILING CONTINUES FROM LAST EPISODE-

And Carlos and Lata, usually I love you guys, and Roxy’s story was so good but my god, the A-plot absolutely DESTROYED my willingness to put up with THAT UTTER NONSENSE where you would DARE compare being SCARED of INTIMACY with A FUCKING RAPE ALLEGORY.

THAT, MY FRIENDS, MADE ME VERY ANGRY.

…

Deep breaths.

…Okay, gonna take a break from this show for a minute now, before we move onto chapter eleven. …more breaths.

(or back to chapter one if you dare.)

[conkreetmonkey]

In the meantime, here's some of the things I'm doing to try to keep this playthrough as "in character" as possible (another longie):

Actually avoiding unneccesary fights. Her ass ain't stupid! She's has a law degree! She ain't built for 2287 Boston! ...yet. I saved the Minutemen because I had to for plot reasons. It's gonna be hard to justify... maybe she was just venting her rage? I do think I navigated that situation realistically, though. She snuck around, took her time, shot from behind corners, and didn't recieve one hit (before the power armor segment at least, which I haven't started yet... I can excuse that, of course, since those things are designed to tank bullets).

Starting out with stats to reflect a brains-not-brawn type of character: 10 intelligence (which should help her level up fast, reflecting not only her brainpower but her determination to find her baby and avenge her husband), then a good amount of charisma and perception (both of which are of great importance in a courtroom), and a single point into luck. I can't remember if I went with any agility or not, if I did it's low and I probably shouldn't have (I recalled considering it on the basis of her fairly light, slender frame), but strength starts at 1 so she has to work for it. I'm also going to avoid taking any combat skill based perks until she actually gains experience that would reasonably grant greater combat skill. Like, I'm gonna make her practice shooting targets, punch training dummies, "read books" and lift weights BEFORE she gains related perk or stat points. Probably gonna utilize either montages or timeskips for this on a video editing front (I HAVE taken, I believe, one point in gunslinger (non-automatic pistols). I took it during the Museum of Freedom fight, which I think fairly reflects her going from "oh shit, a gun, a need that, these roaches are fucking scary" to "ok, kinda getting the hang of this thing now).

Building off the "reading books" thing: I'm gonna justify the abilities the player character uses in crafting and building (gun modding, leatherworking, welding, carpentry, wiring, plumbing, taxidermy, animal husbandry, hunting and farming off the top of my head, and of course later on we're gonna see crazy advanced and sci-fi shit like fusion engineering, electronics repair/modding, robot repair/modding, beast taming) by having Nora read books to learn these skills before she can use them beyond a basic, intuitive level (like, any fool can board up a window or hammer nails into a baseball bat). I will reflect this by having an increasing number of books displayed throughout her home and utilizing timeskips for study. Magazines, of course, will be essential for this playthrough, as many of them would realistically convey knowledge and the perks they give (like, yeah, I can buy that reading an issue of Guns and Bullets would make a person slightly better at shooting or teach a new gun mod, or that Hot Rodder would inspire a new power armor paint job. Makes sense to me). I think this makes sense because, as a highly educated lawyer in a world now without a legal system or bureaucracy, Nora's once-useful skillset would be rendered useless, BUT the amount of study and legal practice she has under her belt would likely render her a fast reader who knows how to learn new things well and quickly. The idea of her stash of books gradually increasing to reflect her growing skillset, her character development showing not only on her body, face and gear but ALSO on her living space, would be cool I think. It's also just realistically what one would do in an apocalyptic survival scenario: seek out, internalize and preserve important knowledge. Perhaps one day she'll have a whole library...

Avoiding getting shot as much as possible. I believe there's a mod that rebalances things for realism... let's face it, Fallout 4's combat quickly devolves into two opposing bullet sponges repeatedly magdumping each other and gorging on stimpaks. It's not even fun or challenging, it's just grindy.

In that same vein, I want to find a mod that removes legendaries EXCEPTING unique ones from shops or the world. I don't think I need to explain why the legendary system is unimmersive, and tbh it's just broken and grindy anyway. I will believe that a gun sold to me or that I find somewhere special can have a unique attribute it was modified to have... but no RNG ones. Those are dumb, and the grindy-ass fights to get them are dumb. This ain't a gacha.

If I can find a mod that lets me have the survival mode thirst and hunger bars WITHOUT the no manual saving bullshit, I'll take it. I'm not losing an hour of progress to a glitch, Bethesda.

Hell, if I can find a mod that severely nerfs or removes entirely the RPG food healing, I'll take it. Slowly healing over time would also be nice. Getting shot should be scary and best avoided, not something you do literally hundreds of times per fight. "Oh, I just took 5 shotgun blasts to the face, better stuff down twice my weight in raw, irradiated, unrefrigerated crabmeat to make my body magically eject the lead buckshot" Eating and drinking is something I'll try to rp realistically. No eating raw meat unless desperate. It's gonna take her a while to warm up to bugmeat, probably. Training her body will require protein, which will require hunting, which will require learning... likewise, if there's ever a signficant period of famine or plenty, I'll shift her weight to reflect it. She's also gonna build a shower and outhouse/terlet pretty early on. Like, c'mon, ya gotta have a place to shit, lol. (as for other kinds of hygeine... let's just imagine she has a menstrual cup, lmfao)

Honestly, as iconic, suitable, and probably "canon" a base as it is, Nora would probably continue to live in her own house... or maybe it's too painful to walk past that nursery every day? And she IS gonna need room for her many companions... so maybe she will live in Red Rocket, and turn her old home into a memorial?

Somehow, I'm gonna do a burial for Nate. Why would she leave him in the tube? I'll put him in the backyard with some flowers, candles and important personal belongings. I do, however, like the idea of Nora keeping his wedding ring on herself at all times as a reminder, so she's probably keeping that in her inventory until the end. I imagine she'd probably make it into a necklace or something, so it's not just sitting in her pocket. Maybe she'll eventually find someone new, and put it on them...

This is going to be a settlement build heavy run. Most mods will probably be of that. She's taking her time to train and gear up, and also probably just wants to rebuild a ruined world. She was a lawyer, she probably values order and civility. And, like... it's just the right thing to do, and what needs to be done if the Commonwealth is ever to recover. People aren't having their first hierarchy of needs met. Disease, homelessness, thirst and hunger are rampant, and the strong bully the weak and kill for sport. She ain't gonna abide that. That is not the version of America she fought for in court every day. She did not spend all those late nights cramming for the bar just to see the world turn into this. And at the very least, she's going to need food, water and shelter, for herself and for her allies. (also I just really love the settlement building in this game and wouldn't play it at all if it didn't have that, lmao)

...thoughts? Suggestions? If anybody's even read this far, lmao.

So. I'm tinkering with something that will probably not pan out in the end. Rather than try to create an OC character for my latest Fallout 4 playthrough, instead I just went with fully vanilla Nora, down to the name, who I've never played as before, and am attempting an rp run where I try to act reasonably and realistically, and I'm recording the whole thing in hopes of putting it on YouTube eventually. I want to evolve her character over time, and reflect her evolution visibly with looksmenu as her tale unfolds and her character develops, for example adding scars after a big fight in which she sustained damage, cutting her hair for a big moment of emotional catharsis, or making her visibly buffer as her strength stat increases. My thought is it might be cool for the Nora that the story ends with to look completely different from the original, with sick sci-fi gear and battle scars and shit, despite starting out fully default. Of course, there are already some issues with this idea (longie under the cut):

The first episode (yk, the important first impression one) will be boring as hell, simply because everybody has seen the intro to Fallout 4 at this point, and watching somebody play through it as vanilla as possible as a default character will probably be very uninteresting. Even people who haven't played the game know the plot of the intro.

This being a decade-old Bethesda game, the animations are janky as hell, and so as early on as the pre-boom intro segment it's hard to remain immersed. Objects appearing and disappearing, characters bugging out and clipping into walls, voice lines constantly getting cut off... you never realize how unpolished this game is until you try to record "cinematic" and "immersive" footage of it. Codsworth cries upon realizing Nate and Shaun are really gone while half clipped into a doorframe.

The story of Fallout 4 is, let's face it, kind of nonsensical. I know some love it and some hate it, as with most things about this very controversial game. For me, personally, I love the aesthetic and art direction, and while the vanilla building system is pretty limited, with a few modsit quickly becomes ridiculously good. But the story? Wasted potential incarnate. I love the idea of synths and the Father reveal and all that, but the stakes never feel real, both because, unless you speedrun the game, your character gets sidetracked in their quest to find their infant child, who was kidnapped by their spouse's murderer very quickly. That's some of the strongest motivation imaginable, especially when from Nora's POV the murder-kidnapping, as well as the end of the entire fucking world, the death of everyone she ever knew, and travelling 200 years into a nightmarish future, happened like 30 minutes ago. Like... lady, you just experienced 5 lifetimes worth of trauma. You just saw the city you live in get nuked, and escaped the blast by mere seconds. Then you got locked in a pod, frozen, thawed out, helplessly watched as your husband was shot in the face while trying to defend your can't-even-crawl-yet, still-breastfeeding infant, and then your baby was literally ripped from his cold, dead hands and abducted by nasty looking men. Then you got frozen again, before finally being ejected from the tube, dumped hacking and coughing onto an ice-cold linoleum floor. Your beloved husband's corpse limply slumps over the edge of his pod, still covered in frost, and all your neighbors are dead. In fact, everyone in the vault is dead. You, a lawyer, have seen like 25 dead bodies within 15 minutes. And then you were attacked by terrier-sized cockroaches, narrowly escaped a slow death in an abandoned bunker with no food left by sheer luck, and emerged into a dead world littered with bones. You just stepped over the sunbleached skeleton of your neighbor to see your house dilapidated and overgrown. You enter to see your baby's crib, pristine the last you saw it, now an empty, battered husk, his toys scattered and broken, the cheerful wallpaper you saw just minutes ago long since having rotted away. All of this, from your point of view, happened within like half an hour tops, and you'd just woken up. You never even ate breakfast. AND YOU JUST... SHRUG THIS OFF? Lady. Lady. I'd have vomited from stress and had a gibbering, scream-crying, wall-punching emotional breakdown by the corpse part, like Jesus Christ. No wonder the emotional stakes in this game don't feel real. Codsworth, your off-the-shelf, basic model robot butler (which is kind of a problematic thing to "own" btw, especially considering that the game's plot), has a far stronger reaction to this than you, despite being a series of ones and zeroes with the computing power of a pregnancy test. He cries, despite lacking tear ducts or a face to emote with. Despite believing all three of you were dead for the past century or so. Meanwhile, you, a human mother who just had her baby stolen, don't shed a single tear or shout one expletive over any of this. But you do immediately risk your life leaping to the aid of a bunch of American Revolution larpers without even understanding the context of their plight. You've got your priorities straight I see, mama bear.

Finally... the game is very clearly written around Nate. It at least makes sense that a seasoned veteran could withstand the sight of mutilated corpses and gore, and immediately know how to use guns and power armor. You've done all of this before! You've seen active combat! You executed resistors in the invasion of Canada (you piece of shit)! WHY would Nora, a lawyer, immediately know how to hold, aim, and reload a pistol with no guidance, let alone a suit of power armor or a fucking aircraft-grade minigun?? Ma'am, you are an academic. You fight legal battles. Prior games established that you need special training to operate power armor, which makes sense because it's basically a lite mech that quadruples the width of your fingers, removes your external sense of feel, adds two feet to your height, halves your FOV, adds two tons to your net weight, and superimposes a UI over your vision. It makes sense for the devs to bypass this by making the MC already experienced with power armor, and to establish this in the opening cutscene so the player doesn't question it. BUT ONLY ONE OF THE POSSIBLE MCS, THE ONE THE OPENING CUTSCENE ASSUMES YOU'LL PICK, HAS THIS BACKSTORY. The other is basically an emotionally healthier Kim Wexler. Her ass ain't ever held a rifle. Get real. It's like if Pokémon Red and Blue had an opening cutscene where the player character talks about how much they love their charmander, and THEN you get to pick your starter, and throughout the story people reference your love of fire types and charmanders, and you're inexplicably able to start fires at any time "thanks to your pokémon partner!" It's just bad writing when picking one of the gender options is going against the narrative grain, especially when older games were able to handle it seamlessly.

Regardless, I think I'm giving this a try. I'm still at the stage of recording footage and installing mods, but maybe I'll have something to show for it in a few weeks? Or maybe the project will piddle out or prove itself unviable. Who knows!

[subbypeterparker]

dom!reader comes home and tease and fuck sub!peter on his gaming chair and he’s just whines all the time 😮‍💨😮‍💨

yes yes yes!!! i REALLY went over board. prepare for pure smut below ;)

[masterlist]

“fuck fuck fuck, kill him ned!!” he yells into his mic. you just came home from work, and this is the first thing you hear.

you drop your bag on the floor, and take off your shoes, quietly waking into his gaming room.

you open the door and peek inside to see your boyfriend sitting criss cross on his gaming chair, humming to himself while he shoots at anything that moves. his headset is falling off his loose and crazy curls as he bounces up and down on his seat when he gets points.

he doesn’t seem to see you, and you lean against the doorway, watching your boyfriend cutely pump his fists when ned kills someone.

his foot is bouncing in agitation, and he’s so cute right now you can’t even hold back your smile. he just looks so goddamn irresistible right now.

an idea pops into your head however when you notice the way his hips thrust up slightly when he jumps up and down. you close the door loudly behind you to get his attention.

peter turns towards you, and a huge smile grows on his face. “y/n, you’re back!!” he bounces a bit in his chair.

you walk beside him and lean down to kiss him. you can hear ned and mj through his headset fake gagging.

“wet kiss y/n, keep that to yourself” ned’s voice rings out in your ear, and you gasp before you and peter break out into laughter.

“ned, next time i see your girlfriend, i’m asking her out, don’t fuck with me,” you threaten into peter’s mic.

ned backs down, but his character on screen shoots peter with a non-deadly weapon, lowering peter’s life span.

“whoah, dude! not cool!” peter says, eyebrows furrowed. you laugh and kiss his cheek, and his face softens into a smile.

ned and mj focus on the game quickly, and peter is trying to, but the continual sloppy kisses you press against his jawline are distracting him.

he squirms in his seat while your teeth scrape over his skin, and your tongue soothes other the mark left behind. he swallows hard, and lets out a shaky breath.

your hand drifts down to his pants, where the fabric is beginning to strain. the tips of your fingers are the first to touch him, and your touches start off soft.

peter gets more desperate for your touch, foot bouncing again in anticipation for whatever you’re going to do with him. if these small touches are difficult for him to stay quiet to, what will happen when you go further?

when you finally press your entire hand against his clothes cock, peter bites down on his lip to stop ned and mj from hearing the moan that nearly left his lips.

you cover his mic with your hand, and whisper in his ear, “be quiet, peter. wouldn’t want ned and mj to hear us, now would we?” you press a kiss to his cheek to seal what you just said.

he lets out a strangled whine, and nods. something about how they could hear every noise he makes, and how he needs to be quiet makes him more excited, and the noises harder to contain.

you smirk. “good.”

you remove your hand from his mic, and he lets out a breath. he focuses on the game enough to hear mj yelling at ned for walking into a wall, instead of covering for her when she was getting shot at.

you slide down on your knees under his desk, and peter’s eyes dart from the screen to you, unsure of where to look. you push his legs down so his feet hit the floor, and look at him.

“peter, you have a game to play. don’t want to let down ned and mj, do you?” you pout and tilt your head.

peter nods, nearly knocking his headset off, and tries his best to focus on the screen. you run your palm over his dick, and he lets out little breaths that he can mask as being stressed about the game.

you run your thumb a bit harder against where you know his tip is. he’s leaking a bit of precum, and a small wet patch appears on his pants. you lean forward and look up at you when you wrap your lips around his clothed top, running over it with your tongue.

peter’s character gets shot, and he groans in frustration, throwing his head back. you take this as an opportunity to push his pants down just past his v-line, exposing a bunch of skin you attack, leaving marks wherever you can.

he moans out, and slaps a hand over his mouth. it’s honestly a miracle his character isn’t dead yet, with how often he’s not even looking at the screen.

his hips flex up, and you push them down. he uses his hand to cover his mic, and looks down at you with pleading eyes.

“please y/n, please!” he whimpers.

“please what, pete?” a small grin is on your face.

“please suck me off, please!” he’s trying to stay as quiet as he can so his fiends can’t hear him through his hand.

“only if you keep playing. don’t want to keep them waiting.”

he nods quickly, and removes his hand from his mic. you can hear mj and ned arguing through his headset, and you and peter exchange looks as they yell at each other.

“dumbass” “idiot” “oh real original, ned” “you’re not original either!” “one more word, and i fuck your girlfriend!” “hey!”

peter laughs into his fist, and you push his pants down, leaving him in his boxers. the wet patch from before is even more obvious, and you feel your panties get wet at the sight.

you wrap your mouth around his cock, paying special attention to where his leaking tip lays underneath the thin fabric. peter groans against his fist, and squeezes his eyes shut.

you frown, and move off of him. his eyes dart to you, silently begging you to keep touching him.

you motion for him to cover his mic. “eyes are either on me, or the screen peter, got it?” he nods, too scared if he said anything it’d come off as a broken moan.

you push his boxers down, and he whines at the feeling of the cool air on his wet cock. you stroke him at a slow pace, before bringing his tip to your lips, where you can finally taste the saltiness of his precum on your lips.

you moan at the taste, forgetting for a second that ned and mj can hear what goes on through peter’s mic.

you bob your head slowly, delighting in the way he whimpers whenever he hits the back of your throat. your fingers play with his balls, dipping into the space between them.

you’re so wet by now, grinding against your heel to fulfill the feeling between your legs. peter can see your movements, and covers his mic again so he can speak.

“please please, touch yourself, please,” he begs.

you remove your mouth from his cock for a moment to undo your skirt and pull it down. all you’re left wearing are your panties and a thin shirt peter can see down.

your hand slides back up to his cock stroking him while your fingers dip down into your waistband, grazing your clit with your middle finger.

peter’s character has died, but he couldn’t care less. he couldn’t even care if you stopped touching him. all he cared about was you touching yourself, and maybe letting him touch you later.

you lean your head back when you enter a finger into your cunt, and peter can hear the wet sounds when you pump it inside of you, soon adding a second.

you’re still stroking his cock when ned shouts at peter that a new game started. he peels his eyes away from the sigh under his table, and tries to concentrate, swallowing thickly every time a particularly loud noise comes from you.

his hips jerk forward when you grip his cock again, moving your head down until your nose hits his pelvic bone.

you make eye contact as his character gets shot and nearly dies. his eyes dart form you to the screen, and he lets out a “fuck me!” at this.

from ned and mj’s perspective it’s him being upset over the game, but the look in his eyes tells you it’s not really about that.

you smirk and get up. he offers you a hand as you do so, helping you sit on his lap in his chair. your core moves against his naked cock, and he can feel how wet you are through your panties.

you wave the fingers previously inside you in front of him, titling your head to the side. he grabs your wrist, bringing your fingers to his mouth, sucking and licking them clean. his eyes slides shut, and you push your fingers deeper down his throat.

he lets out small sighs, and you grind your hips against his. he’s so scared to let out noises, and you turn off his mic.

he immediately lets out a loud, albeit strangled, moan, and gasps louder than before. “please y/n, let me touch you, i’ve been so good!” he pleads.

you remove your fingers from his mouth, and kiss him. you can taste yourself on his tongue, and moan into the kiss. he wraps one of his hands around your waist, pulling you closer while his fingers dip down into your waistband.

his fingers graze your swollen clit, and you moan again, clenching around nothing. your head rolls back, hips moving against his hand. peter watches you use his hand to get yourself off, feeing how his cock leaks more precum against your leg. your movements cause it to smear against the cock, and he grinds up into you.

his cock circles your cunt through your panties, and you groan and get up. you strip out of them, throwing them onto the floor. he helps you sit back down on his lap, and bucks up into you when he feels your wet cunt above him.

on screen his character comes back to life, and you look at him, a plan forming in your mind. you grip his cock, sliding it over your clit for a second, before sinking down on him.

you moan at the stretch, and grind against him a bit while he moans at the feeling of you surrounding him.

you grab the hand holding the controller, and grab his other one, putting them both behind your back.

“i’m gonna fuck you, peter. but you’re going to have to play the game. if you stop playing, i’ll stop. if you win, i’ll let you cum. if you loose, you’re going to bed with nothing. got it?”

he gives you a determined nod, and you kiss his nose, “good body,” you smile.

you put your head on his shoulder, letting him see the screen while he presses play and starts shooting. you set a slow pace, allowing him to focus enough to figure out how to beat the bad guys.

you leave sloppy kisses down his neck and jawline, enjoying how his hips jolt up when your tongue presses against his hot skin. every time he groans while playing, you clench around him, and he briefly pauses to focus on not coming.

your fingers pinch at your neglected nipples, and peter can see them through your shirt. you pull of yours and his, allowing your nipples to harden at the cold air around you.

you lean back, allowing him to see you while you play with your tits, mimicking the movements he does on you. he licks his lips, and pauses his game.

before you can open your mouth to remind him of the rules, he circles your nipple with his tongue, pulling a moan from the back of your throat.

the game has since been abandoned, and you yank of his stupid headset, allowing your hands to bury themselves in his hair, pulling on it and he moves to your other tit.

you grind your clit against his pelvic bone, and clench around him again. your nails graze down his back, leaving small scratch marks in their wake.

his other hand grips your waist, helping you ride him. you’re both so close, and you push his mouth off your tit so you can kiss him, moaning into his mouth when he pinches your nipple.

you throw your head back, and he attaches his lips to your neck, sucking marks into the soft skin. you clench around him one last time, the band in your stomach tightening. you cum with a moan of his name, and the feeling pushes him over the edge.

you feel him cum inside you, painting your walls. you moan out again, and peter collapses into the chair. you stroke his hair, helping him come back. peter can tell your thighs are hurting after the position, and he massages the muscles. he smiles up at you, and you kiss him gently, smiling against his lips.

he looks so fucked out, and so happy, and you’re both ready to take a warm bath together after a long day.

“yo what the FUCK!! peter, y/n is that what those sounds were???” ned’s voice is coming from the headset thrown on the floor, and you and peter look at each other in a panic.

you look at the computer, and see the little mic sign had been turned on. you both look at where his controller is laying on his keyboard, and you realize he accidentally turned the mic on.

“i’m impressed pete. didn’t know you had the skills to make a girl cum.” mj’s voice rings out, and you let out a loud laugh at this.

“yo that was fucking hot,” you and peter turn to look at each other. who the fuck is that?

“who the fuck are you?”

“the game needs four people per team. they add single players.” you whisper to him.

“yo, lady with the guy, you got an only fans?”

“dude, get out of here!” you, peter, mj and ned all say.

peter leaves the game, and shuts off his computer. he turns to you, and you both break into laughter.

“i’m so sorry i turned the mic on. i’m so, so sorry-”

you cut him off with a kiss. “pete, it’s fine. just help me walk to the bath. i think my knees will give out from this stupid chair.”

peter helps you get up, and carries you bridal-style to the bathroom.

“we’re never having sex in that chair again. my knees can’t deal with that.”

“fair enough. besides, i think i left a sweat ass-print on the chair.”

��——————————————————————-

not sure if this is what you had in mind, but if you want to submit another one like this, i’ll write it!!!

[spockandawe]

Another Ianthe thought! It's idly bothered me since reading Nona the Ninth that she would so willingly board the immortality train without Coronabeth. Not in a this-is-bad-writing way, but like I'm missing a little puzzle piece. If Ianthe actually wanted to escape Coronabeth, it would make sense, but if the codependence cuts both ways, then I was missing something critical. But that post about whether Ianthe modded Corona to be extra extra beautiful has stuck with me, and it shook something loose.

Now I'm wondering if Ianthe wasn't planning to be immortal alone, and instead she was planning to manually drag Corona along for the ride as well. All the other necromancer/cavalier pairs we see, it's a massive emotional deal to consume someone you were so close to, we get hints that Augustine and Mercymorn were trapped into it via suicide pact, it's so strange that Ianthe was so much more READY than any of the other necromancers to eat her cavalier.

And you know how this idea does make sense? It makes sense if Ianthe was already willing to do the work of two powerful necromancers to keep Coronabeth with her as they were growing up. Clearly Ianthe could have been terrifyingly competent on her own and only slightly less Aesthetic, and it would have just taken one instance of leaving Corona hanging out to dry and outing her as a non-necromancer, and instead, they kept up the act even to the point of arguing their way into the first house together.

Corona is crying as she asks why Ianthe didn't eat her, and I was with her at first, my best guess for why Ianthe was so eager to bail was resentment (and I still think that's an ingredient in the codependence soup, just not the key one here). But I'm forgetting someone! Yes, he comes in last place in that three-way dynamic, as well as the third house narrative, in a way that is fascinating to me, but the two of them are as intimately tied to Naberius as any necromancer is tied to their cavalier. More than most, arguably, Judith is pretty harsh on the cradle cavalier dynamic the third house apparently leans into, and he's been helping all along to hide that Corona isn't a necromancer.

I've fairly well convinced myself at this point that Ianthe was so ready to devour Naberius not just for the sake of ambition (though, again, I think that is an element). But once she's solved the mystery of lyctorhood, then she's confirmed for herself that Teacher was right, there's no path forward for both of them... as lyctors. I would have expected anyone else in the cast to agonize much harder over killing their cavalier, so does that mean Ianthe and Naberius don't have that particular relationship? No, I don't think that's it, I think they are attached in an alarmingly intense way (her guest to her birthdays was always who would annoy him the most), just like a typical necromancer and cavalier. It's just that this degree of attachment is dwarfed by how much Ianthe and Corona revolve around each other. What's really key is her ability to keep Coronabeth intact, and like, sure, it would be nice to keep Babs with them in SOME capacity, but there's a clear priority order here, and eating him means he's still technically around.

In summary, Ianthe became a lyctor without Coronabeth because she intended to bring her sister along manually if necessary. Consuming Babs is an incredibly easy decision if it means Corona won't be able to die and leave her, and he's still here, kind of, which is close enough. Obviously I could be off base and I will be delighted to read whatever character notes taz muir lays in front of me in the next book, but in the space of writing this post I took myself from 'hm, I wonder if this makes sense' to a pretty firm headcanon, so here we are.

[lubdubsworld]

物の哀れ ( ‘the sadness of things’.)

Characters : Alpha! Jungkook x Omega ! OC.

Genre : Arranged Marriage / Temporary contractual Marriage.

Warnings : Non- Con/ Extremely Dubious Consent . High functioning alcoholism. Genre related consent issues. Implied suicidal thoughts.

Summary : A recently widowed Jungkook agrees to a contract marriage to keep his company afloat. His grief overwhelms him and it is hard to look at his new wife as anything other than an intruder .

[  Author’s Note :  物の哀れ ~ Mono no aware can be translated as ‘the sadness of things’. It comes from the words 物 (mono – thing) and 哀れ (aware – poignancy or pathos). The ‘sadness’ in question comes from an awareness of the transience of things, as taught by Zen Buddhism. When we view something exceptionally beautiful, we might feel sad because we know it won’t stay so beautiful forever – but appreciation only heightens the pleasure we take in the beautiful thing in that moment. ]

Chapter 1 Chapter 2

Chapter 3

“Yoongi left a bunch of painkillers for you. He said you can take up to three per day.” Jin said calmly , carefully slipping the sleeves of my t shirt over my wrist as i held my arms out for him. He slipped the shirt over my head gently but his arms hit my shoulders, jostling me.   I swallowed the whimper of pain that shot through me at the movement. Mina was now awake, happily wiggling around on her rocker. 

It was a little past seven in the evening and Jungkook wasn’t due to arrive for another hour . 

“I could sleep on a bed of rusty nails right now. I’m so tired and i don’t know why. “ I whispered, staying still as he carefully drew the fabric down over my ribs, before stepping back. 

“I’ll sleep in the nursery with her. You should take the bed. You’re in no shape to be up and taking care of her when she wakes up. Jungkook’s asked me to stay here during the day because I’m not going to be performing for a couple months anyway and I’ve been losing my mind, rattling around that huge ass mansion all by myself. ” 

The phone rang, startling both of us. 

I groaned before moving to get up but Jin oppa held a hand up.

“Stay in bed. I’ll go see who it is.” 

I watched him disappear out of the room, settling back against the pillows and reaching for the ice pack in the small cooler by the bed. I had to ice my ribs every hour or so and while it didn’t seem to be helping much, I definitely appreciated the temporary numbness it offered. 

Jungkook’s guilt had driven a new wedge between us and he hadn’t so much as looked at me in three days. 

I wasn’t sure entirely if this was a good or bad thing. The fact that he seemed to be considering that he had to get his emotions under control to stop hurting the people around him was a welcome change. But the idea of going back to being ignored and treated like furniture , wasn’t really all that appealing. 

“Jungkook’s parents are on the way.” Jin’s voice broke through my reverie and i jumped. 

I resisted the urge to sob out loud . 

Mr and Mrs. Jeon were on the opposite side of the grief spectrum and just as annoying. 

Where Sooah’s parents were intent on making Jungkook remember their daughter as often as possible, Jungkook’s parents were intent on making him forget her. 

The only thing the two of them had in common was a burning hatred for me. 

Jungkook’s parents had wanted him to quit the company and sell it when it went into loss but Jungkook had categorically refused because that would result in all of his employees getting laid off, and back then Jungkook had been nothing if not ridiculously compassionate. Jungkook’s parents firmly believed that if it hadn’t been for me, their son would be back in Busan, letting them raise their granddaughter. 

“Great, that’s great. Did you tell them their son is not around?” I grimaced. I’d only met them three times in total and the last time was in the hospital two months ago when Jungkook had crashed in the middle of a board meeting, weeks of starving and dehydration catching up to him. It hadn’t been a pleasant experience, getting cursed out in front of the doctors and nurses and it probably won’t be any fun in the privacy of my home either. 

Jin gave me a sympathetic smile. 

“He’s already told them he’s on the way. I’m going to take Mina out on a walk. Give you guys some privacy. Shoot me a text when they leave.” he said gently. 

“Can’t I come with?” I begged and he laughed. 

“That would be a bad idea, even if it weren’t for the cracked rib. Just relax. Smile and nod and let them spew whatever nonsense they want and then they’ll leave. ” 

I opened my mouth to tell him how many flaws there were in his plan when the doorbell rang. 

“And that’s my cue. Text me, yeah?” Jin moved to pick Mina up from the rocker before reaching for the baby carrier on the table. 

I debated the pros and cons of staying in bed and finally decided against it, gently throwing my legs off the edge and raising myself up to a sitting position. I heard vague voices by the front door, Jin’s sweet tones mingling with Jungkook’s slightly gruffer ones. 

I heard the door close and the stillness of the apartment was as oppressing as ever. I could hear him quite clearly though. The clink of the keys as they hit the bowl, the small click of the door as he locked it. 

i could imagine him, exhausted from the day’s work, briefcase held in one hand while the other tugged on the knot of his tie. 

I imagined for a second, what it must have been like for him with Sooah. She was a bright , incredibly cheerful person. Everyone kind of faded into the background when she was around. Sooah had always been the first to smile at a stranger, the first to laugh even if the joke wasn’t funny. The first one to stand up to help someone in need. 

I swallowed, clutching the sheets to ground myself. 

I guessed that she must’ve always rushed to greet him at the door. I could imagine him wrapping both arms around her waist, drawing her into a hug or even a kiss. 

 How was your day, Kookie?  (I’d heard her call him that, once when they had been at my father’s house for a charity dinner. )

I wondered if perhaps the very sight of her would have taken away all of the day’s exhaustion from him. Perhaps, he would forget all the ways his company had been failing back then at the sight of her beautiful laughing face. Perhaps losing his company hadn’t been as terrifying as losing his job.  

And perhaps once he lost her, he just couldn’t bear the thought of losing his life’s work too. And so he’d agreed to meet my father’s demands. 

My fingers began trembling a bit .

I could imagine her moving around the house, pregnant and glowing, laughing as he nuzzled into the curve of her belly. Had he perhaps pressed his lips to her skin, whispered sweet endearments to his daughter through the fabric of his wife’s clothes? Had he perhaps loved Mina, deeply? WAs it just his grief that made it hard to be near his wife. Or was it perhaps me? Me holding the baby that should have been in his beautiful wife’s arms. 

The wife he had been so madly, deeply in love with. 

Love, I thought vacantly.

It wasn’t something I had ever felt, for anyone until I’d began caring for Mina.

But what Jungkook had with his wife was something different wasn’t it? 

The love a man had for a woman. Laced with desire, longing and passion. A love that made you put their happiness over your own.  

Love like that had never been in the cards for me. 

Ever

I was an Omega. Rare and hated and known for being selfish and greedy. People didn’t love my kind. They avoided me. They always assumed I would take advantage of them. My peers growing up had treated me with so much contempt. 

 The girls would whisper how I was trying to seduce their boyfriends. The boys would call me a tease, even when I stayed far away and did nothing to attract their attention. I’d gotten used to it. It didn’t bother me. it was the way of the world for me. Ad it wasn’t like I could honestly deny some of it. 

I looked at handsome alphas and wanted them. I wanted to be held and cherished. To be bought pretty things and cared for. It had taken decades for me to beat that part of mine into submission. To remind myself that if I ever let that part of me out, it would destroy me. 

But love? Being in love with someone? 

I didn’t know what that could have been like for Jungkook. 

Or maybe I had but I couldn’t recognize it because I’d never received it myself. Whatever the cause, it was for me, a fairytale. It was hard to imagine people loving each other so much, to the extent that they would die for each other. ( Jungkook’s words still hung in the back of my mind : that he had wanted to follow her even in death ) 

Jungkook was right.

I could never know what his loss was like. 

Because I would never know what he had lost. 

It felt a little like being dipped in an ice cold lake in the middle of winter. My skin broke out in shivers, hair standing on end and I felt my throat go dry so swiftly. I’d never wanted to run away so much. I wrapped a hand sound myself, scooting back on the bed again. I reached for the blanket, wanting to pull it over my head and curl into a ball. 

Shut out the world and all the things that didn’t make sense. 

“Are you alright?” Jungkook’s voice broke through the haze in my head and I swallowed. He had an alpha’s voice and my body responded even if my mind resisted. It didn’t happen all the time. Jungkook couldn’t control me. But sometimes when I was feeling vulnerable, instincts took over . I was already dropping the blanket and smiling softly.

“Mina’s out for a walk.” I croaked out, surprised at how awful my voice sounded. 

I felt the press of something against my fingers and I blinked, staring at the glass of water Jungkook was pressing into my hand.

“Don’t worry, I called them and told them not to come over.” He said quietly , watching me drink with still trembling fingers. 

I swallowed and stared at him. 

“I... Thank you. “ I said fervently, feeling a few knots come undone in my gut. I couldn’t really stand up to Jungkook’s parents the way I did with Sooah’s parents. Because Jungkook loved them deeply and hurting them would be the same as hurting him. 

“There’s a party in a couple of days. It’s my birthday. I’m turning 34.  Yugyeom’s organizing the whole thing, so I’m going to hire a babysitter for Mina, because Jin hyung will be there too and you need help caring for her anyway. You can stay home and rest. ” he said . 

I scoffed. 

“I’m going to come with you.” I said firmly. 

Jungkook frowned. 

“What?” 

I glared at him. 

“I’m not letting you go to a party organized by your shit for brains friend, Jungkook. You’ll probably end up getting drunk out of your mind and killing someone and I’m not going to hang around to clean that up. I’m coming to that party and I’m making sure you don’t have more than one drink.  “

Jungkook’s frown deepened into a scowl. 

Did you ever look at your wife , like this? With so much loathing? I thought stupidly. Or did she only ever get to see the sweet and wonderful side of you? Did she ever annoy you the way i seem to every second of the damn day ? Did you hate certain things about her too? Or was she so perfect that you could only feel love ? 

“ I can take care of myself. Its my birthday , I can do whatever the fuck I want.“ He snapped. 

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. 

“Not unless you’re a five year old kid in the sandpit, which you’re not. You’re an adult and when you make stupid decisions as an adult, very real people end up paying for it. You’re old enough to know this Jungkook and for once, just listen to me. You can drink, fine. But I’m going to be there and if I see that you’re getting drunk, I’m going to bring you home. You either agree or I’m going to call Yoongi oppa .” 

That made him pause. 

“Fine. Fuck you.” He snapped, turning on his heel and stalking out of the room. A few seconds later I heard the door to the shower slam shut.  

 I wanted to follow him and shake some sense into him but before I could decide if it was worth jostling my body, when another sharp pain lanced through my ribs.

Oh great. 

I took deep breaths the way Yoongi had taught me. Apparently, pneumonia was a thing that could happen, so i had to breath carefully to reduce the risk of that happening. 

The birthday party organized by Yugyeom was going to be a whole entire migraine inducing disaster. I could already feel the headache come on. It still amazed me that Jungkook was friends with him and his cronies. 

Yugyeom and his friends were the typical; brain dead alphas who thought themselves superior to all other ranks. Even worse, they viewed omegas as objects: fucktoys to be more precise and I bristled when i remembered the way he had always stared at me. 

Well, if he stepped anywhere near me, I would kick him in the teeth. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Jungkook’s mother turned up at home the next day, I wasn’t entirely surprised. I wasn’t surprised but it didn’t make things any more pleasant. 

“We’re willing to take Mina for a couple of days if you would both need time to prepare for the party. This is the first big event Jungkook’s holding after Sooah’s passing and we want it to be perfect. As his wife, i hope you’ll do your part.” 

Mrs Jeon’s pinched face did nothing for my already frayed temper. 

“There’s not much i can do with a cracked rib, mother.” I said politely. It stung, having to call this bitter, cruel woman mother but then, such was life. It was late afternoon and Jungkook was probably sitting in the comfort of his air conditioned office, being flattered and doted on by his smitten secretary while I sat here entertaining his vicious mother. 

“Nonsense, you’ve probably just scratched it. I know how you omegas like to exaggerate. “ she waved off my injury easily. “ There are so many details that need to be decided on and its unfair to drop all of those responsibilities on poor yugyeom’s head. Why don’t you go with him and help out a bit?” 

The idea of going anywhere with Kim Yugeom was easily the most repugnant thing to me. 

“I’m sure he knows Jungkook much better than I do. If i interfered, I’d only be getting in his way.” I said politely. 

Mrs. Jeon hummed.

“Well, its good that he’s agreed to the party at least. That woman never let him meet with Yugyeom or his friends when she was around.”

That woman being Jungkook’s late wife. 

I felt a sudden fondness for her. Clearly she had also recognized Yugyeom for the absolute pig that he was and kept her husband away from his rotten influence . But unlike with her, Jungkook didn’t actually care about me. So I had no way of stopping him from meeting the idiots. Yugyeom’s family was rich and reputed and it was clear that the Jeons wanted the friendship and the connection. Why else would they keep pushing for it so much?

“Is there any particular reason you’re here, mother?” I said finally, after hearing her babble on and on about caterers and invitations and what not. 

“I was hoping to meet Mina...why isn’t she here?” 

“I’m not able to care for her well, what with the rib. The doctor has advised me to rest so Jin oppa takes care of her during the day. Jungkook picks her back up on his way back from office. I can send her over to your place with him this weekend.” 

“That would be fine i suppose. Have you spoken to the decorators about changing the portraits put up in the house?”

I blinked.

“Sorry?”

“The penthouse, we’ve got it back now right? why don’t you move there. We have a cook and a housekeeper .”]

“this is closer to Jungkook’s office.” I had no idea where the penthouse was and could only hope it was farther way. 

Mrs. Jeon frowned. 

“This apartment is too small. Not to mention, you still have Sooah’s photos everywhere in this place. Surely that’s not healthy. Get rid of them and put up pictures of you and Jungkook.” 

Jungkook’s parents didn’t know that our marriage had an expiry date. i wasn’t sure if this was a good or bad thing. But they saw me as nothing more than a way to get rid of Sooah from the deepest recesses of Jungkook’s mind. 

“I’m sure, with time...Jungkook can make that decision by himself. When he’s ready for it.” I said gently, beginning the fresh throb of pain near my temple. 

“Nonsense, Heejin. Men won’t ever move on until you force them. Have you considered getting  pregnant?” 

I jumped about a foot into the air.

“I...what.” I croaked out. 

“You need a child too. He mated you. He owes you that. I’m going to tell him that he better do his duty by you.” She said firmly. 

“Please don’t.” I shouted, stunned out of my mind. Was this woman even sane?

“Why not?” She frowned looking at me like i was the one being unreasonable. 

 Why not? Because its barely been four months since he lost his wife of seven years to childbirth. Surely, you don’t think the remedy to that is to have him go through it all over again. 

 “ Mina is still small, mother. I’m sure we can wait a while. Maybe after she’s one or two.” 

 Jungkook would probably move on by then. Of course he would. Grief was overwhelming but it was also finite. It did get smaller over time. Easier to cope with. Jungkook would eventually be able to navigate his life around his grief. He would learn to make new connections and who was to say one of those wouldn’t be a compatible match? 

So two years from now, there was no reason Jungkook shouldn’t meet another lovely woman, a beta maybe and eventually expand his family. Of course i would be nowhere in the picture at the time. But that was fine. 

I remembered something I’d read somewhere, a while back. 

 If two people are like ships that pass in the night, they meet by chance for a short time , then do not see each other ever again. 

Like ships passing by each other in the night,  I reminded myself. That's what Jungkook and I were. 

“Well, if you think that’s wise.... fine. But now that Jungkook’s doing well, why don’t you entertain people more often? You haven’t had a dinner party here yet, have you?”

And so it went on, over an over for a whole two hours until I was wrung out from sheer exhaustion, my head throbbing and nails having dug half moon indents into my palms from fisting my hands too hard. 

By the time i finally closed the door on her face, I couldn’t help but sag against the door, sinking to the floor in a heap, cracked rib be damned. 

I glanced up at the solo portrait on the wall. The one my mother in law had wanted gone. 

“She must’ve really hated you, huh?” I said casually pulling myself up to my feet and moving to the dining space to stare at her face more closely. 

She was dressed in her wedding gown, a fitted mermaid dress with lace and satin detailing. She had a bouquet of white lilies in one hand, elbows bent and the blooms resting on her shoulder while her other hand curved around her slender waist. 

Beautiful was an understatement, I thought vacantly. 

“ You look like you didn’t put up with people’s bullshit. That’s cool I guess.” I smiled a little. “ You know in another world, we may have been friends.” 

I bit my lips.

“Yugyeom was shitty to you too huh? He seems the type. i’m glad you kept Jungkook away from him. I wish you’d somehow help get him away again. He doesn’t listen to me. Thinks I’m trying to control him or something. ”

It was ridiculous. What was i doing.. Why was i talking to a framed picture on the wall. God.

But now that I’d started, I couldn’t quite stop.

“About what happened with Jungkook... I don’t want you to think i was seducing him or anything. And when i said that I hated him calling your name when we... well you know why i said it right? It wasn’t anything personal...i was just pissed. I don’t enjoy the sex by the way... I don’t think he does either but he’s an alpha and you know how it is…they need that release or they kind of lose their mind .. So trust me we both hate the principle of it.... but at least he cums and well I don’t. He’s never made me cum. That should say something about how we feel about each other.......”

“Uh.. Should I come back later?” The voice near the doorway was so unexpected my heart jumped right to my throat and I screamed, stumbling a bit to the side.

Min Yoongi stood framed by the door, one hand wrapped around a bouquet of flowers and the other clutching his bag and stethoscope. He still had his white coat on over his shirt and slacks, hair mussed like he’d run his finger through it.

It took me a second to remember that Yoongi had a key to the house.

Another second to remember exactly what I’d been doing when he came inside.

Good God.

Had he heard the part where I’d talked about Jungkook not making me cum? Surely not? Oh Please no. 

“Jungkook told me to check on you. That you couldn’t sleep last night? Are you in a lot of pain?” 

Jungkook and I had shared the bed in his room last night and I had apparently, tossed and turned and whimpered through the night in pain. Or so Jungkook claimed. 

“Uh... I’m not sure. He said so... so..” 

“you guys sleep together right?” Yoongi asked casually, taking his coat off. I stared at the way the material of the shirt strained over his shoulders, my throat just a little dry. 

Yoongi smelled so ridiculously good. He was a doctor and he was so handsome and kind to me. The attraction would have been there even if i had been a beta but as an omega, the urge to just fling myself at him and beg him to make me his, it was kind of horrifying. 

Tamping down that part of me, I gave him a casual shrug, heart still pounding. 

“Yeah. There’s just two bedrooms here and one is Mina’s nursery. So ...” I finished awkwardly, watching him move around and place his bag on the table before unwinding the stethoscope, placing it around his collar. 

He gave me a small smile. 

“I’ll just take a quick look and check how your breathing sounds. that okay?” He asked gently. 

“Oh... sure. You need me to take my shirt off?” I asked curiously. 

He gave me a quick little smirk. 

“Not for medical reasons no.” He winked. 

I felt blood rush to my face along with guilt. What was I doing? This was Jungkook’s best friend!! His hyung. Someone he trusted and I was his....

His what? 

Nothing. I was Jungkook’s nothing. When was the last time someone had flirted with me . Someone who wasn’t a grade A creep. 

Yoongi moved closer, sitting down on the kitchen stool and beckoned me to come stand between his thighs. i moved, achingly aware of how much more potent his scent was up close. He looked up at me through sooty black lashes, a small smirk on his lips, feline eyes warm and open . 

“Put your hands on my shoulders, yeah?” He prompted. 

I hesitated, fingers shaking just a little before reaching out to rest on this shirt. I kept the touch feather light , the softness of his shirt the only thing I could feel.

He hummed and bending  down to lightly tug the hem of my shirt out of the waistline of my jeans. I bit my lips to stop myself from squirming. 

He glanced up , eyes meeting mine and holding my gaze. 

“You good?” 

“Uhuhbuh.” I stuttered and he grinned wider, pulling the fabric up to the curve of my breasts. He lightly ran his finger tips over the bruised skin , humming thoughtfully .

“You’ll be fine in a few weeks. Hang on.” He pulled back, plugging the steth in his hear before holding the other end up to my chest. He pressed it against my skin, just before the underwire of my bra and it was unexpectedly cold .

I jumped, fingers curling on his shoulder and squeezing down. 

“Hey.. what’s wrong?” Yoongi whispered, hands reaching for my waist, gently holding me steady and I flushed. He looked genuinely worried , lips turned down and brows furrowed and i felt absolutely stupid. 

“Sorry. Sorry.... It’s nothing.. i just.. it’s a little cold.” I laughed nervously and his gaze softened. 

One hand still curved around my waist, he brought the diaphragm up to his mouth, holding my gaze as he gently breathed warm air all over it. 

My throat went instantly dry and i had to swallow. He pressed it against my chest again and this time it was so much warmer. .

“Better?” He prompted and i nodded, guilt and discomfort churning in my stomach. What was i doing? I had no business indulging him. i had no business indulging any man. Ever.

 I looked away, pulling my hands up off his shoulder, pushing his hand off my hip as well . He didn’t say anything his shoulders stiffened at the subtle rejection. 

A mantle of awkward tension settled over us, a small thundercloud of regret and that threatened to rain misery all over us. I wanted to kick myself.  He was older than Jungkook by four years. Thirty eight years old. 

Did he have a girlfriend? Oh god, what if he was martried?

Nausea threatened. 

“Your breathing sounds fine. Are you practicing those breathing exercises , I taught you?” He asked casually and I nodded . I couldn’t trust myself to speak. 

“Hey...” He said gently and I flinched. 

“I’m sorry.” I blurted out. “ I didn’t mean to lead you on or tease you in any way and I’m sorry if i came on to you ...”

“What?! Heejin, stop. That’s bullshit. You never did any such thing. This was all me.” He said firmly. 

I stared at him.

“I know you’re married but... your marriage, its going to end right? Eventually.” 

I made to step back but he grabbed my waist again, this time a few inches over my jean and his fingers on the bare skin of my midriff made me want to melt. He had long slender fingers, a surgeons hands, and the press of it on my skin felt so foreign and gentle and different and good. 

“We don’t have to do anything. I just... I thought we could get to know each other. Over coffee or dinner.”

I wanted to sob at the unfairness of it all.

Because Yoongi was beautiful and handsome and so good and so much more than I could ever even dream of,  but he was and would always be so intricately woven with Jungkook and with Jungkook’s life. And I couldn’t imagine anything more messy than sticking around and watching Jungkook and his daughter forget me and move on.

“It’s.... probably a terrible idea. “ I said roughly, shaking my head. “ Its the kind of idea that would never end well.” 

“Are you sure? Because unlike Jungkook, i could probably make you cum.” He winked and I felt my face flame red. 

“Oh God...” I hissed, stumbling back. This time he let me move away, merely chuckling and reaching for his coat and bag . 

“I won’t bother you again. But the offer’s always open, yeah?” He smiled again. “ You need me to send over more pain meds?”

I shook my head mutely, begging him to just leave already. 

He nodded and held his hand up in a casual wave before walking out of the door. I collapsed on the stool and dropped my head into my arms , groaning. 

What had i gotten myself into. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I didn’t actually see Jungkook for a couple of days. The meds knocked me out and he worked overtime, only arriving after I’d slept off and leaving before i woke up. Jin brought Mina around everyday and there was something absolutely exhilarating about watching her clutch at her little teething toys and rattles, gummy smile peeking out every few minutes. 

On a whim, i told Jin what had happened with Yoongi and much to my surprise he actually laughed. 

“About time . He’s been pining for what three years now?” 

I gaped at him, completely thrown.

“I..he.. what.” I couldn’t quite wrap my mind around what I had heard. 

“He saw you at that art exhibition you put up in the Hyatt . By the way, don’t you paint anymore?”

I flushed. 

I had no proper response to that. What could i say? That my painting had just been yet another way to control me, only appreciated by father when he could use it to make more money. And that part of my marriage contract included that I wouldn’t paint or make any money off my art for the duration that I stayed with Jungkook. 

It was just yet another way my father reminded me that he controlled him. I didn’t fight him because he would win anyway. And the only thing he loved more than controlling people was winning battles that were always rigged in his favor. i wouldn’t give him that satisfaction. I would soldier through this awful marriage and at the end of it , i would disappear without a trace. 

I shook my head vaguely and Jin hummed. 

“Yoongi doesn’t understand art but he hung around the entire nine hours , morning to night . Three whole days of him just pretending to look at the artwork while secretly making moon eyes at you.”

I could only stare in sheer disbelief. 

“i... i never knew.” 

“How could you? Yoongi’s idea of courting is pretending he doesn’t exist and fading into the background. “ Jin rolled his eyes. “ He tried approaching your father to officially court you but your old man shut that down rather brutally.” 

I swallowed . 

“I... I’m sorry.” i said feeling foolish. Three years...what? I couldn’t think beyond the shock of the information. 

“Does Jungkook know?” I asked , scared. 

Jin shook his head.

“Like I said Yoongi never made it known . He was afraid it would make life difficult for you. He didn’t want any rumors around because everyone knew your father was looking to offer you to someone rich and young. Yoongi was what , fifteen years older? That’s quite a difference.”

“Thirty eight isn’t old.” I said sharply and Jin’s brow went up. 

“Oh?” He questioned teasingly and I flushed. 

“Jungkook is eleven years older. What’s another four more years?” I shrugged.

“You’re interested then.” Jin said thoughtfully. I recoiled, shaking my head quickly.

“I...what? No. No I’m not. “ 

“Why not? If it isn’t the age, then there’s no reason  to say no. Yoongi is handsome , settled and a great guy all around and besides,  your time with Jungkook is finite right?” 

“I... I won’t cheat on him.” I said firmly. “ i can’t... I... besides, Jungkook and I... we’re... we have sex.” My ears turned red, “ I can’t do that with two guys... I’m not like that. “ 

Jin nodded.

“Its alright.. Heejinah ...I’m sorry if i pressured you or anything. You don’t have to do anything. I know you have a lot on your plate right now. Yoongi probably got carried away . More than likely he’s going to panic and avoid you for a year just to recover.” He laughed and I smiled reluctantly. 

“He’s nice I don’t want to hurt him. “ I said softly. 

“ Sometimes that’s just inevitable . People get hurt no matter what we choose.” Jin gave me a sad little smile. “ Jungkook is just as nice a gy as Yoongi. If not better. He’s just...not in the right headspace to show that side of himself to you. I wish you’d known him before Sooah. He used to be this...playful and funny kid. We all went out of our way to keep him safe. Sooah was just as amazing. Usually , we try to find flaws in people our friends  date right? Well trust me Sooah was hard to dislike .” He laughed, eyes misting over as his gaze landed on her  portrait over the mantle. 

I followed his gaze and swallowed. 

“Do you think Jungkook will ever get over her?” I asked simply. 

Jin hesitated. 

“Someday? Probably yes. But it won’t be easy. He’s ... He feels things deeply. He always has. He loved her deeply, he cared for her deeply and so its only obvious that he’s going to feel the loss of her presence very deeply too.” 

I nodded. 

“Its his birthday tomorrow.” I said softly. “ I have a gift for him. Well its not a gift from me, but a gift nonetheless.  But I’m not sure if I should give it to him.” 

Jin gave me a surprised look. 

“What do you mean?” 

I smiled bitterly.

“Just that sometimes fate can be very cruel when it chooses its players. I’m forever wondering if he would be better off or worse without me in the picture and I just can’t decide.” 

“Different. He would just be different.” Jin said calmly. 

There was nothing else i could say to that. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Yugyeom had rented out the rooftop restaurant in one of the poshest Hotels in Seoul and although the party was a pool party, I hadn’t bothered dressing for it. I wore a plain sequined top and burgundy skirt that fanned out around me knees. 

The place was teeming with people his age , friends acquaintances and business partners. The women had changed into bright , skimpy bikinis and lounged about in the brightly lit pool tossing a ball around .

The older people were being hosted by the Jeons on the lower level of the restaurant in a posh ballroom. Jungkook and i would have to visit them later but for now I was content sipping a mocktail, leaning against the bar while Hoseok and Lisa flanked me on either side, pointing out who was sleeping with who. 

Jungkook was in the pool with Yugyeom and Jimin and it was impossible to tear my eyes away from him. He looked happy almost, laughing and shaking water out of his hair as he moved around with the strength and agility of an Olympic athlete. Yoongi was in the pool as well and on the opposite team with Jin and Namjoon....and it was increasingly obvious that the half a dozen bikini clad women were there simply for an excuse to touch the handsome alphas as they worked up a sweat. 

“Jungkook is such a competitive bastard.” Hoseok laughed. “But I don’t know what’s gotten into Yoongi today. i can’t believe he’s in the pool. “

“Of his own volition. “ Lisa added. “ usually someone has to strip him and toss him in. 

Yoongi kept glancing at me every few minutes. It was impossible to miss. It was also impossible to miss that at least three of the six women in the pool were trying to get into his pants. 

I sighed and turned back to the bartender asking for a refill. when i turned back around, Jungkook and Yugyeom were climbing out of the pool and Jin was moving to the opposite side to take their place with Jimin. 

“Jungkook and i are going to go get a drink. Anything for you , beautiful?” Yugyeom reached out to touch me and I almost fell in my haste to get away from him. 

“Keep your hands off me.” I snapped . Jungkook frowned. 

“No need to be rude, Heejin , he was just being polite.” He said softly and i smelt the alcohol on his breath.

“Don’t drink too much Jungkook.”

“Oh come on, beautiful., Its his birthday let him live a little...” Yugyeom laughed and I glared at him.

“I’d rather have him live longer “ I snapped. “ And that can’t happen if you keep trying to give him alcohol poisoning.” 

Yugyeom rolled his eyes. 

“Is she always this dramatic, Jungkook-ah.” Yugyeom laughed. Jungkook didn’t laugh but he gave me a look that said, ‘ please don’t make a scene’ and I bit my lips. 

I didn’t want to ruin his night. He looked ....so close to a normal person tonight and whether I liked it or not Yugyeom had contributed to that. The music was apparently Jungkook’s favorites only, the pool because he loved volleyball in the water and the buffet had all his favorite foods. Yugyeom had gone out of his way to make the party perfect and i suddenly felt like the troll stomping on Jungkook’s happiness. 

Swallowing my own instinct to drag my husband away from the alpha who had his arms around him, I turned away and walked off to the pool. Yoongi’s face lit up when he saw me.

“Hey there, angel. Here to watch me kick some ass? “ He cupped his hands in the water, before tossing a handful of water at me. I blinked in surprise, laughing a little. 

“I’m just here to cheer Jin oppa. “ I said impishly, moving over to the lounge chair near his side of the pool. Yoongi’s pout was adorable and I couldn’t help but laugh. 

Maybe I could stop worrying about Jungkook for a while. Yugyeom wasn’t dangerous. Even if he got a little drunk, I was still here. So were all of our friends. 

It would be fine. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

it wasn’t fine. 

An hour later, I found Jungkook in a room filled with cigarette smoke and light music, yugeyom and his friends scattered around the place with a few beautiful women lounging about on their laps. 

“You said one drink Yugyeom...he’s completely out of his mind.” I said shrilly staring at where Jungkook sat on the couch , shirtless and laughing as some girl in a bikini ran her fingers up and down his arm. She had one leg draped over his thigh.  I felt sick at the very sight of it. 

its because he’s drunk ,  I told myself.  He’s drunk and can’t consent, that’s why you feel sick, nothing else.  

Yugyeom gave me an easy smile. 

“Guy just wants to have some fun. Reina’s a friend of mine. She’ll take good care of him don’t worry. She’s the birthday gift i got him. “ He leered. 

I resisted the urge to punch him in the face. 

Glaring at him, 

“Jungkook, we’re leaving. Come on.” I made to move towards him but a hand shot out, gripping my wrist like a vice. 

“Not so fast baby.... I already paid for her. You can’t just waltz in here and take away her livelihood.” He sneered. “ Unless you want to take her place. This is a special bar you know. All these lovelies, they have something in common with you.” 

I stared at him frowning.

“What does that mean?” 

“I hired them from an omega escort agency...you know because that’s all you omegas are useful for anyway.” 

I rolled my eyes, yanking on my wrist. 

“You and your medieval ideals can go to hell. I’m going home. Jungkook!!” I yelled again and this time Jungkook turned eyes landing on me. 

“Heejin?” He slurred. 

“We need to go home, Jungkook.” I said firmly. 

“Now?” He blinked. I nodded. 

“Yes now.” I made to move away but this time Yugyeom wrapped both arms around my waist, pinning me to his body. Pain , sharp and unbearable shot up my ribs and I whimpered. He was squeezing too hard and God what if the cracked rib just snapped? 

Panic began setting in and I yelped.

“Let me go you bastard.” I struggled to get away, staring in disbelief at my husband . 

Jungkook was standing but he swayed dangerously. There was no clarity there and his eyes were hooded. He was drunk. Really, really drunk. 

“Jungkook tell him to let me go!!” I yelled , trying to tamp down the panic that was rising up my throat. 

“Don’t worry Kook. Just gonna ask her to wait outside for a while. Why don’t you finish your conversation with Reina.. i’ll entertain your wife for a while.” He drawled and i felt my entire body go ice cold at that. 

Jungkook was blinking rapidly, the words clearly not registering and genuine terror began to bleed into my veins. Jungkook couldn’t even fathom that i was in genuine danger here, let alone help me. Oh God, why had i come alone? Where were the others??

Yugyeom held me tighter and i swallowed a groan . My ribs felt like they were on fire. 

“Let’s take this somewhere private, Heejin?” He whispered into my neck and i couldn’t believe it. Yugyeom was drunk yes, but was this idiot also insane? 

“Wait...no.. Yugeyom don’t be a fucking idiot. If you touch me, that’s fucking rape...You can go to prison for that .” I shouted, trying to drill some sense into his head. He wasn’t going to risk prison to make a point was he?? 

“Not if you seduce me angel...and you’re going to... Or I’ll just tell people you did...same difference , right?” he whispered. 

And then he began dragging me off to the corner and my eyes fell on a side door leading out of the room . 

 If you let him take you there this is going to become frighteningly real,  a voice screamed in my head and I inhale deeply, ready to scream loud enough to get the attention of everyone in the damned building. 

The door opened just as I opened my mouth and I froze, watching Mrs Jeon walk into the lounge, looking lost.

“What is this place?” She muttered out loud looking around and the arms around me fell away so fast, I crashed to the floor. 

“Heejin-ah!” Yoongi’s voice came from right behind her and I flinched, willing my shaking legs to stop trembling. 

“Mrs. Jeon...” I muttered, voice strained and ribs throbbing. 

“Heejin? What is going on here? Where’s my son?” 

“Fuck... Jungkook-ah...” Yoongi moved to get him and I took a deep steadying breath. 

Years ago , I’d taken a self defence class and one thing i’d definitely enjoyed learning was how to throw a punch. And It wasn’t something i’d forgotten. 

Planting my feet firmly , i lightly rotated my hips, a subtle shift, before engaging my core , drawing all the fury and helpless rage inside me into my fist. I pulled my shoulders in and took a deep breath. Punch past your target , i told myself. You’re not just going to break his jaw you’re going to put him in the hospital tonight. 

“Mrs. Jeon, Jungkook had a great time toni-” His voice was all i needed to hear  to know exactly where his mouth was behind me. 

i relaxed my muscles as i threw the punch, contracting them just as my fist landed on Kim Yugyeom’s face.  

The satisfying sound of flesh on bone felt like music to my ears and Yugyeom’s sharp cry of sheer agonizing pain even sweeter. 

He crashed to the floor in a heap and I could feel my fist throb like hell. I was going to bruise so badly. But it was worth it. 

“That was for telling me that you were going to rape me and tell everyone that i seduced you.” I said calmly. 

Yoongi let out a noise of disbelief. 

“What the actual fuck.....” He shouted. 

“Yugyeom what the fuck man? Are you out of your damned mind?” One of his friends yelled. Yugyeom merely groaned. 

He couldn’t answer, blood trickling down his chin and hands cradling his jaw, whimpers falling out of his  mouth. My own fist throbbed like hell so the damage had to be significant. 

Mrs Jeon looked horrified and when she opened her mouth i quickly held a hand up.

“I’m not doing this. Not tonight. “ I said calmly. Jungkook was quiet, the way he always got when he was drunk and I groaned. 

It was going to be a long night. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“We need to talk.” I said calmly and Jungkook swallowed. 

“Heejin, I’m -”

“Hear me out first Jungkook.” I said sharply. “ I don’t need your apology, it means nothing to me because it means nothing to you. You’re not sorry that you didn’t help me last night. You’re just angry that you had to help at all. You don’t give a fuck about me. I know that and I’m okay with that. What I’m not okay with is you getting drunk to the point that you don’t even recognize that someone’s in need of help. “ 

I took a deep breath. 

“If you did it to me, you’ll do it to your daughter too. Yugyeom is going to get you drunk someday when you’re taking care of Mina by yourself and then when she needs you, what are you going to do?” 

“You’re right... I shouldn’t have gotten that drunk -”

“I’m only here , talking to you , because of your daughter. If it was just you, I wouldn’t give a damn because you’re an adult and if you make your bed , you can just lie on it. It wouldn’t bother me. But Mina...she’s not capable of making the right choices. She need a father who can make the right choices, because whatever shitty choice you make, your daughter is going to be there along for the ride whether she wants to or not. You drive your car off a cliff tomorrow , she’s going to be there in the car seat laughing because she doesn’t know the consequences of your choices. “ 

I clenched my fists to keep my voice even. To stop myself from yelling. 

“I have something for you. “ 

I grabbed the brown paper wrapped canvas from under the table. 

“It’s a painting . Your wife commissioned me to make this a year ago when she got pregnant.” 

He froze so eerily still that it made me nervous.

“At first , i wasn’t sure if i should be giving it to you because well... because i was marrying you ... I wasn’t sure that it would be right, coming from me ...because I was taking your wife’s place after all...”

i laughed. 

“Now I know that's just bullshit. I don’t have a place in your life. I’m a nobody. This isn’t about me. This is about you. She told me back then that you were nervous about being a father. That was all she said. And she wanted me to pain this. “ I held the canvas out to him. 

“You can see it. I’m going to go stay with Jin oppa for a few days. I want you to see it. It shows how your wife saw you. The kind of father she hoped you would be. I want you to see it and make a choice. You can either get the help you need. “ i took a deep breath, “ Or I’m going to tell Yoongi that you’re incompetent to be a father. He’ll file charges , “ I had to close my eyes to get the next words out, “ and you will lose custody of your daughter.” 

Jungkook inhaled sharply, hands curling into fists on his knees. 

“i hope you make the right choice.” 

I wrapped both my arms around myself and walked out. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author’s note. :

I’m so exhausted I’ll tag people tomorrow! 

.@girlinthemikrokosmos  @xius-exos  @sugainfireslex  @yunkichiee@kpopstudybee @ephyraaaa  @peachoney9795 @ggukkieland  @veronawrites  @blr1004   @tinyhoagiepartylover @btsis7okay@squishyjk  @itsdingdong @emmmui  @honeeybunneey  @yeonkiminnie

@just-me-and-myselfs  @delicate-snow-flake  @kpop-lore  @beautifulvirgobutterfly @sumzysworld  @btsmylife21  @teresaisla

.@melrosaeparker @taestannie @dchimminie  @ meraki--life   @somewhereinthestarss  @mawwnsterr  @kookiesbreaky  @chimchoom 

[bdudette]

Caving Love - E. M.

MASTERLIST || STRANGER THINGS

Summary: In where she loves him but never said it. Maybe until his incoming death they will both confess ?

Character: Eddie Munson x F! Reader

Warning Tags: Fluffy but Angst ?!?! Curse words, Steve sucking at relationships but still giving advice ?, kinda cute ngl, Bad ending —maybe ??? , character death in the future ???, spoiler s4, detailed song fic. This is cringe overall cuz I’m still rusty —

A|N: I have nothing to say other than this was so long I had to cut it up lol. This is my first music related fic so idk how to do this — yeah. It was between Accidentally In Love and As The World Caves In — yall can see who won lol. Just used half of the song btw 👀

Part 1 Here ⇝ 2

My feet are aching.

And your back is pretty tired.

And we’ve drunk a couple bottles, babe.

And set our griefs aside.

Falling in Love. Falling in Love with someone was something people couldn’t avoid nor could they do anything about, especially when it came to changing with whom they fell for in the first place. Eddie Munson. Eddie was the one she had started liking since she was young as her younger self had gained a giant crush on him as the guy basically showed off his true self with little shame and full confidence. Both growing up to become high schoolers of different sociable places that didn’t allow them to interact as much as they would’ve liked.

So when all of a sudden, he was linked to a murder he didn’t cause and was soon roped into this upside down world, she was scared. Scared of this love that shouldn’t get in the way of this new mission to save the world. Scared of what could happen to Eddie Munson in this said cruel world of monsters similar to the board game the man played.

But who knew that Eddie also felt the same with these romantic feelings, he had since years back and just never mentioned it to her no matter how many times they’ve interacted before — which wasn’t extremely a lot but he still held a deep crush for her and he feared the rejection he was sure to come if he had ever confessed.

So when this opportunity came, he decided to shoot his shot. In this new world of death.

“ Hey, uh — [Y|N], right ? I mean — of course it’s [Y|N] what else would it be since we’ve already met a bunch of times before with group projects and all and well — I’m rambling — I’m uh — Eddie, “ Eddie smile awkwardly, biting the inward of his bottom lips as his face felt hot and his chest felt even hotter with embarrassment on how he was talking non stop to this beautiful person in front of him that he had a huge crush on since a long time.

It didn’t help that dustin was in the back looking at him with a ‘ wtf ? ‘ expression at how Eddie was interacting with [Y|N] as the group walked through the woods of Hawkins.

But the young woman didn’t mind this, deciding to smile at Eddie with a slightly nervous expression herself, “ Of course I know who you are, Eddie Munson, yeah ? I’ve uh - seen you play for the Corroded Coffin, in middle school, “ at this revelation, Eddie gaped at her, doe - dark eyes staring at her with awe and wonder as his own heart organ gave abnormal beats that he was sure were 100% related to a heart disease called love.

[Y|N] was fumbling a little with her words, nervous that Eddie would think weird of her to even remember his still existing group, so she just kept on taking, “ I - uh - I remember since I did write a letter to your group, I really loved watching you guys perform, you guys were the ones who kinda got me into hard core rock and metal music , so — yeah , that’s weird, I’m sorry, “ she gritted her teeth, keeping her lips closed as she tried not to speak anymore as to not embarrass herself but the only thing she really did was caused the school’s ‘ weird ‘ metal kid to fall even more in love than he already was from just watching her afar.

He stopped his steps for a moment — along with [Y|N] — whilst they spoke. Staring at the gorgeous girl in front of him.

He gave out a shaky sigh, moving one of his ringed fingers up to his lips and in between his teeth as he stared at her with so much adoration in his beautiful big eyes even though she couldn’t really see it since she was looking away in awkwardness, he hissed out air from his mouth before forcing his hand away from his face as he shook his hands in front of him and jumped a little on his spot , “ No , no , no — Jes — You’re good, fuck — “

His sudden outburst caused [Y|N] to look at Eddie in sudden fright and confusion, causing the young adult to back up a little before taking a step closer to her again, “ you’re more than good, you’re fantastic ! That was you !? You really inspired my band group to keep on playing ! You — you …. You seriously are amazing, [Y|N]. “

They were both flushed at this point , excited at the fact that they were talking to one another and yet oblivious to the fact that they had a thing for each other. And they kept on walking towards the moving group. Glancing at one another ever so often. Their interaction caused some of the people in the group to smile at how sweet they seemed yet most of them gagged and rolled their eyes at their obvious, cutesy shit that they didn’t have time for.

They both couldn’t help — really couldn’t — but want this moment to last longer. Far longer than what came after.

The papers say it’s doomsday.

The button has been pressed.

We’re gonna nuke each other up, boys.

‘Til old Satan stands impressed.

It wasn’t long before things started to get even worse for them. To Eddie’s own surprise — they started fighting bats. Freaking bats ! What the fuck did he get himself into !? Well — he didn’t actually get into this shit willingly that’s for sure — but damn ! And then they found out that they were stuck in 1983 ? At least they were able to contact the kiddos before anything and started heading to his trailer — but — DAMN !

He didn’t get the chance to interact with [Y|N] at all !! What the actual fuck !? He is blaming it on the girls for taking her attention with all the talking — or maybe he should really just blame himself since he was too nervous to go up to talk to her again and decided to stick himself on Steve’s side — who seemed to notice his disappointment and hesitation.

Steve glanced at Eddie when he heard the 50th sigh coming out of the metal guitarist. Eyebrow twitching a little bit from annoyance but thankfully he has grown patient from having taken care of the kiddos for a while now. Though — that patience quickly snapped when he heard the weirdo starting to sigh again, “ What’s the matter ? “ he spoke with a hint of annoyance in his voice, this being the second time they were speaking to one another after the previous one where Eddie encouraged his pinning towards Nancy Wheeler — basically.

“ What ? What ? Nothings the matter ? What do you mean ? Everything’s fine ? Nothings the matter with me, pft, what’s the matter with you -? “ Steve rolled his eyes at the rambling as he continued to walk next to Eddie, “ Spill it Munson, you basically broke the worlds record on a person sighing within 10 seconds. “

Eddie wondered for a moment — is a record like that even a thing ? — before shaking his head before stifling a sigh at the feeling of Steve glaring at him when he saw him almost open his mouth to do that again. “ Well — it’s [Y|N]. She’s what’s matter with me — and not even in a bad way ? She — I — I just don’t know ? Usually I’m good at talking with everyone and all but — “ he looked forward, heart stuttering at the sight of the said woman walking next to Nancy and robin with a determined expression.

“ Fuck — anytime I try to talk to her I keep embarrassing myself ! “ he whisper-yelled, looking back at Steve who only looked at him with a quirked brow. “ And I can’t help it — she’s just so fucking awesome and sweet and just so kind I — I wanna tell her I like her — basically love her — but — what if she doesn’t like me back ? “ Eddie groaned, moving his hands up to rub his face, trying to avoid rubbing his rings on his eyes.

“ I don’t even know why I’m talking about this to you when you don’t even have a solid relationship yet, no offense, “ he slumped while Steve looked at him with a gaped, offended expression as he laid a hand on his exposed hairy chest, “ a lot of offense taken ! “

Steve decided to push that aside and try to give some good advice in romance to the other boy. “ Look, Munson — what you have to do is just talk to her. You did that earlier and it went well ! Well — kind of ? It wasn’t bad — just a little awkward ? Besides ! She looks like she likes you too ! Trust me. “

Eddie looked at Steve with furrowed eyes. Looking back at [Y|N] before faltering in his intense staring when the said beautiful woman turned to glance at him and — and freaking waved at him too with that cute smile of hers — he gave out a shaky sigh this time.

Steve rolled his eyes at how helplessly in love Eddie looked, did he look at Nancy like that too ? Steve shook his head before patting at the metal lover slumped back, “ besides, how would you know she doesn’t like you if you never say anything ? Come on, we only have one life to live. “

Nodding before straightening up his back.

“ Yeah — You’re right. We only have one life. Gotta love it as hardcore metal as possible. Just like Death is. “

Steve looked confused and slightly concerned as he tilted his head towards Eddie as he didn’t even get the reference at all , “ What ? “

And here it is, our final night alive.

As the earth burns to the ground.

It wasn’t long before things got more complicated for everyone. Yet so intimate for the oblivious - and seeming - star crossed lovers.

Oh, boy, it’s you that I lie with.

As the atom bomb locks in.

Oh, boy, it’s you I watch tv with.

As the world, as the world caves in.

[geminil0vr]

"lists" | ron b. weasley (part one)

read part two here !!

summary; you and your boyfriend ron are both completely inexperienced, but one day he asks you what you like in bed. lucky for you, you actually made a list. and he's happy enough to play a few of those fantasies out.

tagged; @weasleyssupremacy

word count; 4.6k

content; smut, fluff, banter, making out, embarrassment, shit ton of blushing, mentions of kinks, mentions of teasing, mentions of hitting, mentions of choking, mentions of sex, mentions of praise, mentions of degradation, cursing, grinding, finger-sucking, spit, cum swallowing, first time foreplay (male receiving oral, female receiving oral), fingering, handjob kinda, orgasms, teaching/instructions, relatively realistic, no aftercare included but you know damn well ron'll take care of you, not really a specific dom/sub dynamic, inexperienced/house-neutral fem!reader, inexperienced boyfriend!ron, think that's it but lemme know if i forgot anything !

a/n; holy shit this took me hours !! in this fic, ron and the reader are sixteen years old. i'm from the uk, where the legal age of consent is sixteen — more specifically, in england, wales and northern ireland, a minor is considered a person under the age of eighteen. and i do not want to write smut about minors, i will never do that. so i did a little more research, standard wiki shite, and in scotland (where hogwarts is) that age is sixteen. sixteen year olds and up are no longer minors in scotland. i know many of you are from different countries and therefore may feel uncomfortable with this age because it doesn't reflect the definition of minor/non-minor in your respective countries, and that is perfectly okay !! i completely understand, hope this made sense bc i'm too fucking exhausted to tell. feel free to scroll by and find another fic to read, please put in a request for any of the harry potter characters if u wish, and have a lovely day :))

you hadn't done much with him.

just kissing, really. some grinding here and there. you were comfortable in each other's grasp, sure, but you both never quite went over that line, of more than kissing, of more than light touching.

didn't make you insecure. nor impatient. it was a comfortable kind of middle ground.

and in that middle ground, you were seated on his thighs, legs either side of him, kissing gently, tenderly. these were tepid, lukewarm, waters, just bordering on more, just bordering on scalding hot, and you didn't mind it. you didn't mind it at all.

pulling back, lips not too swollen, just pink, you smiled softly down at ron weasley.

"you okay?" he asked. you hadn't meant to start kissing, you were just talking, just hanging out, him levitating a marble in his empty bedroom, you reading a book and making sure he didn't try and levitate a lamp — that never went well. not with ron weasley. but he got bored, and your eyes wouldn't focus on the pages, and you'd forgotten your reading glasses and he'd kissed you sweetly, and you'd kissed him back and now... now, you were snogging. you didn't care much for that word. it sounded weird, and heavy, and hot. and things with ron (so far, at least) weren't weighted, and hot, they were warm, and soft, and him.

you took the time to rifle your fingers through his red hair. he'd been letting it grow, just a little, down to the nape of his neck. "yeah, you?"

he grinned cheekily, nose and cheeks flushed already. of course, this was the usual. one kiss from you turned him pink, not out of awkwardness, just passion, you supposed. it was rather cute. and he pushed you further up in his lap, not too close, but closer. you grinned back. you kissed. and you pulled away again, just to look at him.

he took in a sharp breath, before blurting out something he’d wanted to ask for the longest time, "what do you like?"

"hmm?" you tilted your head.

he swallowed. “what do you like?"

"i'm gonna need some context here."

"in bed." now you felt as flushed as he looked. to ask that question, it must've taken a lot of courage. he was a gryffindor after all.

even starting a sentence caused your breathing to pick up. "well, you know i've never done anything before..." that was true. but you'd done your research. you'd actually made a list of what you thought you might like, which was idiotic in retrospect, and quite childish, but you'd done it, and it sat in your bag with a burning prescence.

"but surely you know... ya’ know, what you might like?"

you settled back, more comfortably in his lap, arms still around his neck, but you were less close. "why're you asking?" you teased.

"you know why!" ron groaned, burying his head into your shoulder, and he felt your shoulders shake with nervous laughter.

"well, i guess, i have — well... nevermind." he moved back, face burning, with an eager smile plastered on his face.

"go on, tell me! i want to know."

"it's embarrassing!"

"i won't make fun."

"yes, you absolutely will."

"won't."

"will."

"just tell me."

you swallowed and chewed nervously at your lip. "i've made a list."

"alright, tell me." if he said 'tell me' one more time you would strangle him. speaking of choking, and all that —

"promise you won't judge?"

"promise."

"well it's more of... well, it's not a mental list. i've written it down."

a grin broke out on your boyfriend's face, and you smacked his bicep.

"oi, you said you wouldn't judge!"

"i'm not judging! it's just cute, 's all." his smile faded a little. "so, about that list... why don't you go fetch it?" he said, with a sideways nod of his head.

"fetch? i'm not a dog."

he made the excited face he always had before he told a bad joke. for fucks sake. "aw, well, i figured pet play would be on your list —"

"shut up, shut up, shut up!" with each 'shut up' you punched his chest and he crossed his arms over it to protect himself.

"hitting, is that your kink too?" well, you weren’t exactly opposed.

you groaned and swung your leg over him, "i'm gonna go get my fucking list."

getting up and 'fetching' your bag, you searched through it and found your little, blue notepad. as soon as you'd returned to the four poster bed, ron reached out to grab it, and you quickly pulled back.

"no, i have more than just 'kinks' in there. and i don't wanna tell you everything."

"why not?" he was genuinely confused. that was the problem with these weasley boys: no boundaries.

"if i tell you everything about me then what secrets will i have left?"

"secrets are overrated." he stared blankly at you, shrugging, but still wrapped his arms around your waist comfortably as you swung your leg back over to sit on his thighs. as you flipped through the pages of the notepad, you found what you had been searching for. 27 pages in, hidden between random pencil scrawls, was your list. you'd learned about sex from books, and your friends' experiences, and being a sixteen year old at what is technically a boarding school. and though that wasn't the highest form of education, you knew enough to keep safe, and to feel good, and ron knew enough, too. "so, start reading!"

looking over the first line, your cheeks burned and you shook your head. "i can't say that!"

"want me to turn around?"

"no, i — no. i'm just gonna..." you slid all the way up his lap, ron attempting to ignore that you were right over his crotch in a pair of pretty blue jeans, and hid your face in the crook of his neck, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, embarrassed by your childish ways.

"c—" ron's voice broke, and you fought a smile, "comfy?"

"yeah. i'm ready now." you swallowed, breaths shallow and voice shaky as you brought your list up to your eyes. "um, well, i've heard about, uh —" he rubbed a hand up and down your back. you couldn't see him, but he was grinning and biting his tongue in anticipation. "pet play."

"you bloody liar, tell me the real list! don't be a pussy."

"fine, fine. no pet play. but i, uh, think choking sounds hot." your voice was slightly less shaky as you kept your flaming cheeks out of view. ron was bright red, too.

"uhuh. what next?" his voice was quiet and trembling now, grip on your waist tighter. the atmosphere of his dorm room had completely shifted.

"and, um, teasing. 's hot." your eyes flitted to the next word, trying to keep your composure as ron's grip on your waist tightened even more, keeping you still on top of him. "i like being praised, but being degraded is — it sounds... good."

ron had to fight the urge to groan, not out of frustration, but pure lust. you were by no means innocent, in fact, you tended to make a sex joke every day, or comment 'that's what she said' at every euphemism, but he never expected to hear those words actually slip from your lips. he couldn't speak, his voice got stuck in his throat, and he knew if he even tried his voice would break and go all high-pitched.

"then, hair pulling. hard sex, soft sex." both of your hearts were beating so fast, and you squeezed your legs against him. it was a nervous action, but you didn't expect him to let out a high gasp, and you certainly didn't expect him to grow firmer beneath you. "spanking, breeding, maybe, we'll see." he closed his eyes and let out a low exhale that he’d been holding in.

you pressed your hips harder down onto him, and his nails dug into your thighs. you'd been in this position before, while kissing, but this felt like pure filth, you telling him what you wanted him to do to you, and him just listening, and him getting hard. i mean, he'd been hard beneath you before, on top of you even, but it never led to anything more, and you didn't think you'd ever felt him this hard.

"i — i think i like biting. anywhere, really. not too hard. you have to be gentle with me." you had pulled back a little now, eyes still glued to your notepad, head turned a little so your lips were almost touching his ear. tentatively, you looked away. the tips of his ears were burning hot, and red. you took the lobe between your teeth, biting softly, tongue darting out just a little. his hips bucked up into yours, and you both moaned quietly. "and licking." you slid your tongue over his warm skin, just below his ear, then curved your spine to lick further over the expanse of his neck, causing him to let out another breathy moan.

"fuck..."

"and, spit. i think it's hot. i've thought about it, about you, before. i dunno." you kept your tone unsure, in hesitation. you had more on your list, just things you found hot, situations you found hot, but you closed it and pulled back, unwrapping your arms from around his neck and fiddling with the notepad between your fingers. that was enough, for now. ron was breathing heavily. you were breathing heavily. everything felt hot, and heavy, and it wasn't the norm, not with ron, but you liked it.

"th— that was... good. a good list." he choked, hands still on your thighs.

"yeah."

a tense silence settled between you, until he wrapped one arm around your waist, hand slipping up your back, the other in your hair, and brought you into a feverish kiss. you grinded down on him, moaning into his mouth feeling the reminder of how hard he was, chucking the list to the side and sliding your hands up his shirt as your tongues explored each other's mouths. it felt good. really good. better than you could have expected.

ron gently nibbled at your bottom lip, before pulling away and moving his focus to your neck. you tilted your head to the side, hurriedly moving your hair to the side to give him better access. he licked teasingly up your neck, and you dug crescent moons into his abdominal as he began sucking and biting at the skin beneath your ear, and your pulse point, and soon your collarbone, and before you knew it your sweater was pulled off and he sucked and licked against the skin right above your breasts. this was the first time he'd seen you without a top on, just in a plain, black bra, and he was damn well going to savour it.

you tried to hold back moans, but it seemed impossible when he was burning beneath you, so you did what was natural. you grinded against him and whined as he trailed wet kisses all over your chest, and after a while of you arching your chest into his mouth, you realised what he was doing.

your voice came out breathless, almost breaking. "you're teasing me."

he stopped his trail of kisses to move his face back to yours. "what, you thought i wasn't listening?"

"well, stop." you whined, scratching your nails over his abdomen once more, earning a shallow moan from him.

"i thought you liked it." he tilted his head, almost smirking.

you swiped your tongue over your bottom lip, chest heaving, as you took your hands from under his shirt. "just touch me. please." ron took a moment to take his own shirt off, and you admired the freckles dotted over his pale yet flushed chest and shoulders until he wrapped his arms around you, unhooking your bra clumsily, fingers shaking with lust. you gripped his shoulders, fingers gliding over each mole as your eyes darted over his features.

"so fucking pretty." he licked and kissed underneath your right breast, cupping the other one in his large hand, and your mouth dropped open, brows furrowed in pleasure as he took a nipple into his mouth, looking up at you as you grinded down onto him.

"ron, fuck, i'm too sensitive."

you watched him grin as he slowed his movements and instead licked softly once over your nipple as you threw your head back. you were the hottest thing he'd ever seen. well, he'd only ever seen his brother's porn magazines so there wasn't much competition. but he could say without a doubt that you were the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen, your back arched, your head thrown back, your chest flushed. so pretty. but if he didn't speed things up he was sure he would cum in his jeans. you caught his lips in yours once more, struggling with the buckle on his jeans. you knew you wouldn't have sex, not today. but other things were always possible. that thought made your head spin with anxiety and need.

after a little while, you resorted to quickly tugging off your own jeans, ron doing the same, and soon you were back in the same position, except you could really feel him against you. you both looked down at the sight of you in your panties on top of him in his blue boxers, and both laughed breathlessly, kissing once more before you slid off and between his legs. if you'd stayed any longer, he might've felt how fucking wet you were.

"y/n..."

"it's okay, i want to do this. do you? we don't have to." he nodded his head, bottom lip between his teeth. "okay. just tell me what to do, okay? tell me what you like, ronnie."

‘ronnie’ didn't think he'd last that long when your hands were gripping at his thighs and you were on your knees, in only your underwear, between his legs. "okay. yeah."

you cautiously slipped down his underwear, pausing for a second as his flushed and red cock smacked up against his stomach. fuck, he was big, and already dripping precum. you were almost mesmerised with him before you remembered that he might be self conscious, so you proceeded to slip his underwear all the way off, throwing it off the side of the bed and coming closer to him, laying on your stomach and trailing a finger soothingly up and down his thigh. "so pretty." you teased, mimicking him from before, but as you looked up at his desperate face, mouth open, cheeks red, brows raised slightly, you decided that maybe teasing wasn't the best decision in that moment.

so, you wrapped a hand around his cock, feeling it twitch in your hand as ron moaned, head thrown back just like you had before. "that feels good."

"i haven't even done anything yet." you chuckled, looking up at him expectantly until his blue eyes met your own. "tell me what to do."

he gulped. "right, so you just wanna... make your hand wet. spit in your hand. you should like that." he couldn't believe he was saying this to you, or even joking in this moment, because right there, he was totally and utterly at your mercy.

you removed your hand from him, finding your mouth already salivating, and instead of licking your hand, you gathered your spit and let it drop from your tongue down onto it. he groaned as you looked up at him. fuck, he definitely wouldn't last long if you did more shit like that. taking your slick hand, you guided it up and down his cock, hesitantly dragging it over the tip, making him buck up into your hand and drip out even more precum. "fuck, uh... be careful with the tip. it's sensitive."

"sorry." he went to tell you not to apologise, but then you avoided going directly over the tip, collecting more of the precum, and the amount of spit and slick on your hand was creating lewd, wet sounds. if he tried to speak now, he’d probably just whine. testing the (now, scalding hot) waters, you dragged your tongue up his shaft, and he moaned even louder. he seemed to like that, so you did it again, and again, then put the tip in your mouth, pushing your lips down onto it until you got scared that your teeth would graze him.

"fuck, just like that, y/n, you’re so good."

seems he took more notes than you gave him credit for. or maybe this was natural? shit, is this how he spoke normally? he would drive you insane.

and how the fuck did people not use their teeth? at this point, you wanted to hear more of those beautiful sounds coming from your boyfriend's mouth, but also wanted to ask him. so you slowly took your mouth off, making him look down at you in concern.

"ron, how... i'm worried i'll use my teeth."

ron wasn't sure how to answer that, being just as inexperienced as you were, but he tried to use what he heard his friends talking about in the boys dorm.

"i think you just, try to wrap your lips down over your teeth. or you purse your lips. like an ice pop." you chuckled, and so did he. "i guess you have to make your tongue flat and then cover the top ones."

"okay, i'll try..." but before you went down again, he spoke once more.

"and, don't swallow the cum. doesn't taste great."

you nodded, and he watched you as you tried the technique, getting down even further, causing him to grip at your hair. he didn't push you down, just needed something to hold onto other than the bedsheets, that was all. and after all, you did quite like hair pulling. you moved his thick cock in and out of your mouth, wrapping your hands around the parts where your mouth couldn't reach, and looked up as ron's grip tightened on you. you didn't bother touching his balls — that was an experiment for another day.

"fuck, i'm gonna cum," you moved your mouth to just the tip, as more groans left his lips. "y/n, shit, don't swallow, just take your — fuck, take your mouth off."

you were stubborn. so stubborn in fact, that you kept suckling at the tip of his cock as he jerked up into your mouth, body freezing, as you swallowed load after load. you just wanted to please him. and thank merlin you'd done all those water (and to be honest, butterbeer) chugging competitions with lee, or you'd have been absolutely done for. he was right, it didn't taste good, at all. it was salty, and bitter, and as you took your mouth off him and let his slowly softening dick slap against his thigh, you almost winced at the flavour.

ron's chest was pink and flushed with perspiration, head thrown back against the headboard and eyes firmly closed, recovering. "fuck. told you."

"'s not the worst thing in the world. i'd do it again."

"don't say that or i'll get hard again." he reached for his boxers off the side of the bed, awkwardly slipping them on in a sitting position.

you chuckled, reaching to his bedside table to gulp down some water, head fuzzy and chest warm with the accomplishment of pleasing your boyfriend. he wiped a hand over his forehead, taking the glass out of your hand to take a big sip himself before putting it down.

"well, that was exhausting." he groaned.

"tell me about it. my bloody jaw hurts." you grinned, and he smiled back and rushed to peck you on the lips firmly, sending you to fall back against the covers as he hovered on top of you. "what're you doing?"

"don't think i'm done with you just yet." he grinned, but faltered. "unless you don't want to. i don't want to force you or anything, just tell me if —" you shut the clumsy boy up with another kiss, clasping your hands behind his neck and grabbing at his soft hair, wrapping your legs around his waist. you clenched around nothing as you felt his soft cock beneath his boxers against your soaked panties.

"it'd be my pleasure." you muttered against his lips. and he grinded into you once more before moving you so your head was against the headboard, and him between your legs.

"oh, how the turn tables, hmm?"

"shut it, loverboy." you shook your head, biting your lip and looking down at him as he trailed his nails down your inner thighs, making you arch your back a little. "and what did i say about teasing?"

"that it's hot." his crooked smile made your stomach clench.

"that you should stop." your complaints were ignored as the humour in the room dropped, and he looked at the wet patch seeping through your underwear. he seemed transfixed, swiping the pad of his thumb over it, before hooking his fingers into the waistband of your panties and pulling them off, tossing them to the side.

taking his middle finger, he swiped it through your soaked folds, making you whine. "you're dripping." his voice got much deeper, and his throat felt dry, but if he opened his mouth he was sure he'd drool. "did it turn you on, sucking..." he cleared his throat. "sucking my dick?"

you didn't reply, just bucked your hips up into his touch as he paused.

he pressed on. "so?"

"yes, it did." you were so desperate that you actually pouted your lips. seeing ron talk so dirty, despite his hesitance, was the second reason you were dripping. you didn't know he'd be like that. though you should've expected it.

but his shyness hadn't left just yet. "can you... can you tell me what to do?"

you tried to catch your breath, his finger was still over your clit, not firmly pressing, just there. you got distracted for a second, looking down and subtly pushing your hips up, before you bit your lip, swallowed, and met his eyes again. he seemed to be amused by that. "uh, so... you just get your fingers nice and wet, first."

it even surprised ron when he removed his finger from you, and held up his hand to your mouth. your breath hitched. "you're probably wet enough anyway, but go on, then. 's what you like, right?"

you nodded nervously, taking his wrist and putting three of his fingers into your mouth. you sucked them in, making sure to get enough drool all over 'em, before messily removing them and letting spit string down to your tits. ron watched it all, dick growing hard again. he was sure now. you would be the hottest thing he'd ever see in his entire life. you let go of his wrist as he let the rest of the spit drip onto your pussy, the air leaving you cold as he spread it around with his fingers, up your folds, circling your hole. the avoidance of your clit made you throw your head back, as he teased you. he knew exactly where the clit was, frankly, it was pretty clear to see, all red and swollen and big. he was doing this on purpose.

"please, ronnie." you whined.

"okay, okay. what next?"

"you need to touch my... my clit. and maybe put a finger in, but, be gentle, please?"

"you've never fingered yourself before?" his voice broke.

"i tried, just one, but, it's not really comfy when i do it. too tight. fingers aren't long enough, maybe. i don't know." you swallowed nervously. speaking about your personal sexual experiences was embarrassing. ron found it hot.

he took your advice, slick fingers brushing over your clit, then paying more attention to it, playing with it, even pinching it, turning you into a whimpering mess. figuring you were prepared enough, ron gently dragged his middle finger over to your hole. "gonna put a finger in, now. ready?"

"yeah, please."

you gasped and gripped his arm. he eased in slowly, and fuck, you were tight. you'd broken you hymen before, probably by either walking, riding your bike, or simply experimenting on yourself, so there was no resistance as he reached his finger all the way in, just a slight discomfort on your part. he almost began to start moving, but you tightened your grip. "just a second, ron. your finger's bigger than i'm used to." that sentence made him rut into the bed, as he followed your instruction and stayed still. your body relaxed, and he even felt you begin to unclench around him, your ridges less restricting. "it's okay now, you can — fuck."

he'd started sliding his finger in and out, slowly, as soon as you gave the 'okay', and this was definitely better than you could have ever done to yourself. you weren't sure you could come just from this, but you didn't care, it felt good. you'd heard one way to make it better, though.

"try curling up your finger — oh." if this boy could only give you a chance to breathe. that change in movement was hitting a spongey spot inside you that made you clench your thighs together, which he fixed by using his elbow to spread one, and his free hand to hold down the other. you brought one foot up to his back, needing some kind of stability. "you okay?" he asked, which was a loaded question considering that his thumb accidentally brushing over your clit made your entire body jerk, and you weren't just okay, you were bloody brilliant, the blinding pleasure bordering on pain.

"fuck, touch my clit, please." you moaned, head thrown back as he did as you said, making your entire body spasm. you were so close, so fucking close, and you practically rode his fingers as you thrashed up and down, tits bouncing. you were just about to tell him you were gonna come (though with you non-stop clenching around his one finger, it was pretty obvious) when he decided to try something, removing his thumb from your clit and instead sucking onto it.

he'd heard about eating girls out, and it was something he'd always wanted to do to you, to drive you crazy, and if he couldn't do it now he was going to at least include his mouth into some of the action. he wanted to taste you.

with this surprise, you came hard, the heel of your foot pressing into his back, his hand working hard to hold down your other thigh, stomach clenching and eyes rolling back. you were moaning so much and so loudly that you were glad almost everyone was out at hogsmeade. as you came down from your high, ron removed his lips from your clit and slowly removed his finger, your aftershocks trying to suck him back in. your back, forehead and chest were sweating, your entire mouth dry as your eyes stayed closed. ron rubbed his hands soothingly up your thighs as your body spasmed again, and brought himself up to kiss your forehead, a grin that you couldn't see playing at his lips. he wrapped his arms around you as you sighed and leaned into him.

"fuck." you sighed, opening your heavy eyes and glancing at ron who licked the rest of your cum off his fingers, looking up at the ceiling. you were still clenching around nothing. that was the hardest you'd ever came, even better than the showerhead — oh, ron would have an absolute riot if he knew you used the showerhead. "thank you."

he gave you that dumb fucking grin, the one he always had before making a bad joke. "orange you glad you read out that list?"

"shut up and kiss me. idiot."

[nanikoreeeh]

— guilt

fandom; bnha

character; kirishima eijirô x chubby!reader

request― hey! i’m so excited for your blog! i have this concept where kirishima can’t stop lewding his lovely chubby step sister , like he’s always wanted a sister and the guilt eats him but he can’t stop jerking himself against her plump ass when she’s asleep.

author’s note― now this is a  c o n c e p t  i can fully get on board, love me some conflicted pervert big brother kirishima.

ps; had to reupload this cause it wasn’t showing in the tags, but now it is, so if you’d like and reblog ths one instead please >_<

warnings; incest, non-con, vagina owner reader

Kirishima is just the best nii-san, it doesn’t matter that you’re barely a few months younger than him or that you’re about to finish high school; he helps you with your homework, goes with you to do errands and carries the heavy stuff and makes time to watch a movie with you every weekend. Sure, sometimes his hands linger too long on the soft squishy flesh of your chubby thighs when he is sitting next to you by your desk explaining you how to solve the exercise that has you furrowing your browns in distress.

And yeah, sometimes he makes some comments that are kinda out of place like when you are shopping together and he notices you eyeing someone “My lovely sis can't get a crush on anyone… I’m the only man in your heart, right “Y/N-chan?”

You tell him that you are heavy, that he doesn’t need to make you sit on his lap as you watch Mulan for the 99th time but he firmly smashes you into his lap by firmly dipping his fingers into your wide hips, you feel awkard and ashamed, you really don’t want to hurt him but he really doesn’t seem to mind seeing as he  spends the entire time with his arms surrounding you by the plushness of your waist his hands pinching on your tummy every now and then only to snicker at the whimpers of surprise you emit every time he does it. He chuckles at you and tells you you’re so cute, too cute and that you have to promise to watch out for creepy boys.

You reassure him that you can take care of yourself and yet when you feel the hardness prodding against your ass you don’t move, you don’t want to make your brother feel bad even when you can feel the outline of his cock rubbing against you, you know boys can get hard so easily even if they are not really horny so you try to lift yourself from his lap quietly, but one tug from your brother is enough warning to not move.

Kirishima waits till you’re finally sound sleep, back against his chest and head turned sideways, small breaths making your chest rise and fall in a peaceful cadence to re accommodate himself, he lifts you up just enough to make sure the outline of your pussy is rubbing against his angry erection, he holds you by the waist, fingers digging into your waist as he humps against you, erratic thrusts, just anything to make his wanton end. He is the worst brother in the world, he can feel his love for you grow bigger with every day, you deserve a better brother, someone who doesn’t think what it would be like to have your pretty lips wrapped around his cock.

You whimper in your sleep and his cock splutters white capitulation into the inside of his sweats, he can feel the stickiness of his emission sticking to his skin and, oh  how he wishes it would be your lovely tits the ones covered in his warm sperm, he bets you’ll look lovely, just perfect.

You move in your sleep, ass pressing against his softening cock and he can’t help the low groan that comes from his lips nor one of his hands coming to press against the warmness of your core, those shorts you’re wearing barely cover your ass and the thin fabric barely does anything to cover your mound, he can actually see a peak of your cute panties through the clothing piece and it’s just oh so tempting…

He shouldn’t, he knows he shouldn’t push his luck and risk waking you up but the outline of your pussy is pressing tightly against the thin fabric of your shorts and the image of your naked legs spread wide open feel like an invtation he just can’t deny. He can feel his cock coming back to life again and he tells himself that he only needs to touch you a little bit, just a little bit will be enough, the warmth of your clothed cunny sending shivers through his spine when he presses his palm against it.

His free hand hurries to pump his cock as he does his best to stop himself from slipping his fingers into your pussy, he has to settle for slightly rubbing between your folds. He imagines what it would be like if you woke up right now, would you be disgusted or would you urge him to fuck you with his fingers? The idea alone is enough to make him come once again, this time into his own fingers.

You stirr a little and a low moan utters from your lips, soft tights clamping his hand in place.

He rests his cheek against your lips, your warm breath tickling his skin, he sighs and tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear. As slumber wahses over him he relaxes against the warmth your body gives him, guilt and satisfaccion wash over him in equal amounts, but he knows tomorrow morning he’ll be wanting you just as much.

[oddsnendsfanfics]

Thankful

Genre: Fan Fiction Pairing: Henry Cavill/Reader Warnings: It’s kinda cute? Rating: G Length: Drabble Disclaimer: a strict work of fiction, I own nothing except the original characters and the plot line. In no way am I affiliated to any of it.  

A/N: In the event I took a rare request, here you go Anon. I hope you like it. 

“What's the matter, duck?” Henry gently rubbed your shoulders. Tension seeming to melt, slightly, with his touch. “You've been off the last few days, talk to me.”

A faint smile, you wave it away, leaning into his touch. “It's nothing, Hen. Nothing to worry that pretty little head of yours over.”

What were you going to tell him? Tell him that you were homesick? Like a child at summer camp, you were devastated that you weren't able to fly home to spend at least part of the holiday season with your family. It was selfish and childish, but damn it you didn't care.

This would be the first year that you didn't get at least Thanksgiving with your family. The first year, in many, where you wouldn't spend the day listening to your dad argue with the football game on the television. The first time you wouldn't be at the brightly decorated table, enjoying your mother's prize winning cornbread stuffing. You hadn't seen your parents since early January and it was beginning to weigh on you.

You weren't the only person in the world struggling with this, why should you wallow? At very least you had Henry to share your time with. Having one another was more than some people in the world had right now. Sighing, you shake your head, trying to keep the tears away.

“I have to go FaceTime mom, I told her that I'd call before they ate dinner.” You break away from Henry. Pulling your sweater tighter around your shoulders. Leaving him with a peck on the cheek, you pat Kal on the way by.

“Tell her that I said Happy Thanksgiving,” Henry frowned, his words setting in a realization.

Watching you disappear to chat with your family, Henry would give you a few minutes before casually wandering in to have a chat with his in-laws. Allowing you to catch up, gave him a few minutes to put his sudden plan into action. Enough time to send a few quick texts and order some sort of roasting bird for the following day.

Finishing his onslaught of messages and dictations, Henry glanced at Kal who was stretched out on the kitchen floor watching him intently. The big dog yawned and rested his head on his paws. “I know bear, I know. Don't you worry, I'll save you some too.” He bent to scratch Kal behind the ears.

In the other room, Henry could hear the voices coming from the laptop. Your voice sounded more chipper than he'd heard in days. No doubt to the benefit of your family, not wanting them to worry or feel bad that you were on the other side of the ocean. Confident in his planning ability, Henry strode into the next room a deliriously happy smile on his own face as he greeted your parents.

Checking the time, Henry didn't want to appear rude, but he did have to sneak out to the shops before they closed. If he was going to give you a Thanksgiving. Kissing your cheek, he smiled fondly at the screen. Informing your parents that he had some errands to run, insisting that you keep talking when you asked if he wanted you to accompany him.

“Non sense, I can do this. I need to grab Kal some more food. You talk with your mum and dad. I won't be long, duck.” Another kiss on the cheek as he waves goodbye to your parents. Rising from his seat, preparing to head out in search of the perfect yam.

Whatever Henry was up to had kept him out longer than a typical run for some dog food. Sending him a text, he assured you that he would be back shortly not to worry. He wanted this to be a surprise, parading in with an arm load of groceries for a roast dinner would not be the easiest thing to hide or explain.

Giving up on Henry and whatever he was up to – no doubt after grabbing Kal's food, he went off to the gym. That would keep him out for at least a couple of hours. You opted to ready for bed, a little early, but perhaps a good night's sleep would refresh your feelings in the morning. Henry running off to whatever it was he was up to didn't help your homesick mood.

He knew that you were upset, the least he could have done was stay to comfort you. Whatever. You groan and step into the shower. Fuck it. No use in going to bed mad, when you are already this damn gloomy. Downstairs, you hear Kal whimper a few seconds after stepping into the warm stream of water. At least Henry would be home to snuggle a little before you went to sleep.

“Hey bear,” Henry greeted the dog, taking into account that you were nowhere to be seen. “Where is mum?” Listening he smiled at the sound of the shower. Perfect!

Secretly lugging groceries into the house, Henry was pleased with his accomplishments. He'd be up before you in the morning, naturally, which is when he would begin prepping the feast. Storing the last bit of his surprise, he made a cup of tea and headed upstairs.

Sitting the cup of tea on your night table, Henry waited for you to finish in the bathroom. A soft plume of steam escaping the door as you stepped out. Towel around you, ignoring his presence for the moment. A soft silence fell while you took time selecting your pyjamas. Henry sitting on the bed watching you quietly. Satisfied with the fuzzy blue pants and matching tshirt, you continue to ignore Henry walking back into the bathroom.

“Duck?” He calls after you, not wanting to push. He should have known that you'd be upset on his running out so abruptly.

“What?”

“When you're changed, I brought you some tea. Do you want to read for a bit? I can go let Kal out, then grab my book.”

“Sounds nice, Hen. I'll be here when you come up.” You call back, pulling your shirt over your head. A little annoyed but less homesick knowing that you will have Henry to keep you company.

Spending a home sick evening in bed cuddling with Henry and Kal, a cup of tea, while you and Henry fall into silence as you are each lost in the pages of your respective books isn't so bad. It's not your mother's homemade cranberry relish, but it is a pretty good way to end the day.

As predicted, Henry was awake about an hour before the sun thought to rise. Carefully slipping out of bed, making sure to tuck in the covers to keep you from growing cold he kisses your cheek and retreats downstairs. Kal hot on his heels. After a quick run around the small garden, the pair are back inside the kitchen. Henry staring at the turkey he had bought. He may have gone a little over board on the size. Surely you had a pan to fit.

Once the bird was crammed in the oven, as if by some strange magic the damn thing fit! He went to work on the next item, peeling potatoes. After that it was on to the yams and then the green beans. Henry was a confident cook, but making your grandmother's special green bean casserole was daunting. How bad could it be? He'd watched you make this at Christmas. Damn it, he should have insisted he helped you and not listened when you told him to go enjoy his brother's company.

Recipe on the counter top, he eyed Kal as if he would give some untapped wisdom. Kal yawned and licked his lips, his main concern was the bacon that would be topping the questionable squishy green strings.

“We can do this.” Henry tapped his fingers on his thigh. “We've got this.”

“Got what, Hen?” Your voice startled him. Flinching in surprise, Henry spun around to face you. “What are you doing?” Looking around the kitchen at the mess of vegetables, pots, pans, and...was that dough?

“I uh,” Henry rubbed the back of his neck, shrugging. “It was supposed to be a surprise. So, surprise! I am making you Thanksgiving dinner.”

“You're what?” Your brow furrows, pulling your dressing gown tighter around your body. “Henry, sweetheart.”

“I know that you're upset about not being able to go home. I know that it's a bit late, but...”

“Henry, Henry, Henry.” You coo shaking your head. Walking across the kitchen to where he stood, glancing at the recipe on the work top you giggle. “You're doing this for me?”

“I am,” He wraps his arm around you, drawing you close and kissing the top of your head. “Why don't you go relax, it will be a while and I will get your coffee.”

“Or,” You hug him tightly, “I can make the coffee, then we can do this together.”

“It's your surprise, though, duck.” Henry pouts and you kiss him sweetly.

“I know, but I want to help. Besides, Thanksgiving dinner is a huge undertaking. It requires at least two chefs and probably ten people to eat. Please, tell me we're having guests. I don't think we can eat an entire dinner this size.” You look at all the food he has laid around the kitchen.

“That part I have covered, my brother and his family will be here for four. As well as a few close friends. What do you say?”

“I say Happy Thanksgiving?” You giggle at the look of pride on Henry's face.

[dramaticviolincrescendo]

So. Ryan.

I’m going back to s4 for a minute because the wonderful @damngcoffee and I were discussing fleeting yet fascinating Ryan, and I wanted to put my thoughts out into the universe. I hope you don’t mind.

I’ve never thought too deeply about the dynamic between Ian and Ryan before. Even in planning out “In Pieces,” analyzing Ryan’s motives wasn’t strictly necessary because it’s not really something Ian would pick up on based on his perspective in this situation. Ostensibly, it’s quite simple: during his club days, Ian is swinging with a new and visibly elegant circle in a drastically different part of society than he grew up in. That’s why Mickey is so out of his element there, whereas Ian expertly camouflages himself the way he always has. On the surface, there’s nothing out of the ordinary here. Just a party. Just Ian, manic and feeling on top of the world and in his element. Just another red flag missed amidst a sea of them. What happens at the party, however, really seems to potentially indicate that there’s more to this and more to Ryan as a character than merely acting as a clever setup for Mickey to indicate that he and Ian are officially in a relationship.

Up to that point, all we’ve seen surrounding Ian from Mickey’s point of view are real slime balls—older men preying on someone that they don’t necessarily realize is underage, but they definitely know is very, very young and vulnerable. There’s the lap dance guy, the one who can’t run to save his life, and the dude who’s just asking for his fingers to be broken one by one. Mickey alludes to two in particular over breakfast that first morning, and when Ian mentions a regular inviting them to a party, Mickey is focused on a rather specific image of what one of Ian’s regulars must be like.

Then they go to Ryan’s loft, and...it’s classy. Sophisticated. This isn’t a raucous after-party, but a very different atmosphere, full of upper-middle to upper-class ladies and gentlemen who are clearly professionals. Many of them are in suits or dressed nicely, having a late-night drink and speaking tastefully. They’re also substantially older than Ian and Mickey, who are only nearing seventeen and nineteen respectively at the time. These people have careers and, in the case of the sociologist Mickey speaks with, are working on advanced degrees. The only visible drugs are the ones on the table in front of Ian while he’s asleep the following morning. This isn’t the kind of party that we’d expect, knowing where Ian is mentally at this time like we do.

We tend to focus a lot on what Mickey’s response to all this is, but I’d like to use it as a diving board for analyzing a few dimensions of Ryan’s character that appear to indicate that, through the encroaching darkness of Ian’s as yet unacknowledged illness, there are people who are possibly watching out for him. So, here are a few things that stand out about our encounters at Ryan’s loft:

Ian says that Ryan is one of his “regulars.” Based on what we’ve seen so far, this immediately has us thinking there’s a level of sexual interest on Ryan’s side, even if only as something of a voyeur who enjoys watching Ian dance at the club. There’s no physical manifestation of that interest, though. Ryan noticeably doesn’t behave like the skeevy guys we’ve already seen, Ned included. That doesn’t exclusively mean that he’s on the up-and-up, of course, but I found it worth noting that their hug is just a hug, and he doesn’t step out of his role as a cordial host for a second. He treats Ian the same as he treats Mickey: with kindness and social acceptance, albeit with more familiarity. And when Ian goes with him to see what drinks are available, there aren’t any apparent undertones. Ryan immediately heads towards the open kitchen, and Ian follows at a polite distance. Host and attendee—those are our initial vibes as far as Ryan is concerned. It’s jarringly different from our other forays into Ian’s current lifestyle.

Enter the sociologist. What a fascinating individual for Ryan to interact with. He immediately asks if Mickey is with Ian, which is nothing special in itself and serves as a way to engage Mickey in conversation without simply asking what he does. The fact that he moves into that, however, is very interesting to me because he’s so straightforward about it. It’s not an interrogation, yet there’s an element of investigation to it. Perhaps he’s just a curious guy making conversation with someone who looks uncomfortable; perhaps he’s familiar with Ian from these parties and is doing a bit of research into who it is that Ian brought with him, as it is arguably the first time that’s happened. Either way, what he says that he’s studying is a “blink and you’ll miss it” sort of reference. It also flies under the radar for anyone who isn’t familiar with the field of sociology. We end up like Mickey: lost and confused by “transgender sex work and symbolic interactionism within the framework of hustler-client relations,” but generally understanding that he’s studying sex workers and pimps—emphasis on the sex workers. Something we know Ian was at the time, working the front and back of the club as he later admits.

Now, for the uninitiated, symbolic interactionism is a theoretical perspective in the field of sociology that focuses on how our social interactions with other people, social institutions, and the world around us both facilitate our construction of reality and alter or solidify our perceptions of our existing reality. While there are many directions his study may be taking him in, this sociologist is writing a dissertation on the meaning that is made between hustlers and clients—what symbols emerge that define each side, their roles, their meaning to one another, the dissemination of the values and norms that guide their relationships, etc. In short, he’s studying the socially constructed meaning of the relationship that specifically transgender sex workers and pimps have with each other and their clients.

On the surface, that has no bearing on this situation. Mickey’s confused, and it’s an ironic bit of writing to connect him to this group he’s uncomfortable with by showing that South Side Mickey is the pimp that the upper classes of society are studying for their Ph.D. It’s pure satire, a brief commentary on just how different classes of society can be and perhaps even a nod to how lower classes are inside the fishbowl that upper classes are peering into but will never truly experience. To the viewer, however, what a sign that may be, depending on your interpretation. Ian has clearly been around this group of people enough that he’s known. They’re familiar enough with him to say that he’s great and how lucky Mickey is to have him. If Ryan is one of Ian’s regulars, then they know where he came from. They know he’s young, and they know what he does for a living right now. There’s no way this sociologist—studying what he’s studying, asking what he’s asking—doesn’t have some professional interest in Ian’s circumstances. Enough, perhaps, to check in on who this person he’s brought with him is. Ordinarily, I wouldn’t read so much into that, but this isn’t the only time it happens.

The next morning, Ian is asleep and Ryan chooses to wake Mickey first. He knows Mickey wasn’t comfortable with him the night before, which I thought he handled with a lot of grace and good-humor. In most cases, I’d expect more disdain, but not with Ryan. It’s interesting, then, that he didn’t go to Ian first given their familiarity. Sure, he knows Ian worked the night prior. He may just have impeccable manners and want Ian to sleep a bit longer. If he’s a regular, he knows Ian needs it. (He probably also sees the drugs on his coffee table and figures he definitely needs it, but I digress.)

So, he wakes Mickey. He makes a casual joke. Then, when Mickey says he’s not Ian’s keeper, his demeanor shifts just slightly. His expression grows hesitant—tentative, like he’s been meaning to ask something but hasn’t quite worked up to it. For someone who should just be a regular, who shouldn’t care much outside of Ian dancing, whose interest has been that of a polite acquaintance thus far, his gaze is more intent than I’d have expected as he waits for Mickey to tell him if he’s a boyfriend or if he’s someone who is a one-night deal. Are they together, or is Mickey just a fleeting fancy for Ian?

Are they together, or is Mickey taking advantage of this very, very young sex worker that Ryan has conveniently invited to his home after work instead of him going home with some stranger?

Are they together, or is Mickey some stranger?

When Mickey says they’re together, the intensity ebbs and casual Ryan is back. He offers a contented reply and heads off to get breakfast for Mickey, still not knowing what Ian wants. If that was his prime motivation for approaching them in the first place, wouldn’t he have woken Ian up at that point? Wouldn’t he have completed his task of taking breakfast orders? It makes me wonder if that’s not why he woke Mickey at all. It makes for a good excuse when he was delivering food to others who stayed overnight, but the more I rewatch their interactions, and the more I read into how dissonant his position as “a regular” and his behavior are, the more I wonder if there’s something else to Ryan.

A regular who doesn’t seem all that interested in Ian as anything other than an acquaintance—a person, not a dancer or object like literally everyone else in Ian’s new life that we’ve seen so far.

An engineer and photographer Ian says with absolute certainty doesn’t want or expect anything from him.

A professional with professional friends who are studied in the fields of sociology and sex work.

A man somewhat older than them who checks in with Mickey—after someone else has already done so and discovered that their sex worker guest is there with a self-proclaimed pimp—to inquire after his relationship with Ian in a relatively non-invasive manner.

Ian was taken advantage of by so many people as a kid and especially during his initial spiral. I’ve always thought of this as being a lonely time for him even though he certainly felt like he was a part of everything and surrounded by all the wonders of the world. He abandoned the military and his dreams. He flitted into and out of Ned’s home. Monica flitted into and out of his life yet again. His family wasn’t looking until Lip’s hands were tied by the MPs, and even then they were almost immediately distracted by the situation with Fiona and Liam. Mickey was married and seemingly out of reach. He’d left his friends and connections behind.

But maybe, just maybe, there was a guy who saw him at work and saw him. Maybe there was a guy who was a little older, a little more educated, and a little more savvy about the scene Ian was involved in when he noticed this kid dancing on a stage in a place he had no business going to.

And maybe this guy decided that he’d look out for this kid who was in way over his head, indirect and not at all obvious about it, yet someone who cared at a time when Ian unknowingly and unintentionally had to rely on the kindness of strangers.

[threeminutesoflife]

Hindsight is 20/20

Hindsight is 20/20

Pairings: Dark!Steve x Dark!Reader Warrnings: death of minor character, stalking, masturbation, oral sex- male receiving Word Count: 3k a/n: Congratulations on the 15k milestone, @sherrybaby14 sweet Scream Queen!❣️ Thank you for hosting #promptchallenge, Lady! 🧡🔪

Challenge prompt/Summary: #27/Steve- “Stalker!Steve finally gives up and the reader misses him so she starts stalking him and he likes it!”

It was all obnoxiously poetic- the way her hair fanned out and struck the air, the whiplash of movement, and the extension of her flailing arms. 

Her body performed a morbid ballet when you pushed her onto the subway tracks.

Her screams, their gasps, the failed brakes; between the brutality of gravity and the law of physics, the bitch even died pretty.

The overcrowded platform consumed your senses. The raunchy, celebratory cheers bounced off the tunnel walls and rang in your head as fans piled inhumanly close, trying to return home.

Beer breath and belches lingered overhead, sweat and humidity draped the subway tiles. Shoulders knocked into shoulders, and the little shoves and multiple bumps made your teeth grind.

Despite the acidic shuffle, your eyes stayed on her. She stood past the edge of the platform’s caution line, blissfully unaware. Cell phone in hand and fashionable jeans over her ass, she kept giggling at the phone’s screen. Fuck, she was annoying.

As you snaked closer, you saw her thumb jet across the device. Was she texting him? Were his replies the ones making her smile like that? 

Your next thoughts made you pause behind a column with a frown. Does he send her gifts like the ones he sent you? Did she receive that gift?

That gift you still hold when falling asleep most nights- the teddy bear with the secret recording in his chest. 

Does her teddy bear “growl” like yours?

You were sure Hallmark never intended for their sentimental creation to be used so obscenely, capturing the sounds of an overly-infatuated man pleasuring himself on the stuffed toy's recorder. People love in different ways, but you were sure his type of keepsake moment wasn’t marketable as a card in their stores.

At first, you were repulsed at the discovery. Your ear pressed against the chest of the bear, soft synthetic tickling your chin. Your brows furrowed slightly as you attempted to decode the rustling sounds. Juggling the bear until you finally located the volume button.

His deep, broken moans erupted from the toy’s chest, clarifying what the contents of the previously recorded message were. You never heard Steve like this. The revelation made your thigh muscles flex. Disgust and arousal hit you in one confusing punch. Annoyance and embarrassment slapped you next. 

You dated Steve, twice; once for a late breakfast because he was leaving that afternoon for a mission, and the other was for lunch because he just returned. Both meals were eaten behind baseball hats and glasses so people wouldn't recognize him. Missions and responsibilities made it difficult to see him, and it didn’t help that both dates were cut short due to emergencies on his end. When he called after several weeks of radio silence, inviting you for brunch- you declined. You told him that you needed someone who could be present, someone who could really see you. You wished him well but said he wasn’t the one for you.

Over the clinking of his belt buckle and material shuffling rapidly on the recorder, Steve wished you farewell, “I wish you could see me as I’ve always seen you, sunshine. Goodbye.” 

Throwing the obscene teddy bear back into the box, you kicked the package across the room.

After months of hangup calls from private numbers, flowers sent with no names attached, and an eerie feeling of a baseball-capped figure following you on the other side of the street- Steve finally let you go.

So why did your panties ache at the weight of that word- goodbye? Why was there an odd feeling of uncertainty growing in the pit of your stomach?

You were supposed to feel relief, but you didn't.  

The weight of his absence slowly grew. You didn’t want him before, he didn’t have time for you. So why should you want him now? 

So what if you didn’t have an acquaintance's admiration anymore? So what if your phone’s notification fell into a coma? 

So what…

You didn’t want him, you convinced yourself that- but a small part of you liked knowing he was looking. Unsure how or when it happened, you began to actually miss him.

One night you pulled the obscene bear out of storage. The box should have been thrown out when first receiving it, but you somehow never found the time. 

The bear still looked sharp and dapper, a little red bowtie garnishing the salacious audio recording.

The toy’s simple recorder didn’t have fast forward or rewind. So in your pining for Steve’s attention, you listened to his long audio of grunting and groaning- repeatedly. 

You wanted to hear every noise he made. You needed the timber in his voice. The high and lows of his moans, his breath catching in his chest. The sounds he made when pleasuring himself to the thought of you...

You tried masking the reasons for your actions to yourself. You just needed to hear him say, “goodbye.” Hearing him say that one simple word would make it more official. Of course, hearing him say it and you accepting it were entirely different things.

As you repeatedly hit the play button and rested on the bed with the grunting toy beside you, you knew this was a mistake. Because he sounded good, damn good. 

And that night started one of many. You’d mewl in sync with Steve's muffled groans coming from the stuffed bear's speakers, slipping one hand down your panties and covering your breast with the other. You unintentionally programmed yourself to cum as he did on the recording. Which meant, you needed to hear him cum on that audio for you to also find release.

___

The ringing in your head grew louder as you watched his new interest, your replacement, stand by the edge of the platform. 

Her carefree, glossy smile seared itself in your mind as you replayed the image of Steve wrapping his arms around her on the sidewalk. He wished her good night with a soft kiss before letting her descend the subway’s stairs. 

The longer you watched her, the easier it was for your jealousy to distort the fans’ cheers and drunken singing for the championship win into a slow chant of- “Push. Push. Push.” 

Before your mind knew what your body had planned, your legs moved and arms shoved.

She was dead and you didn't mean to do it, at least- not out in the open. But everything in you just snapped. 

You allowed the chaos of the crowd to swallow you and drown you in their sea of scared bystanders. Some pulled out phones, while others ran for high ground.

The passing subway train tried braking sooner; gears sparking and metal grinding. It was now half-hidden in the tunnel and half-exposed alongside the platform. The people on board shouted in horror after understanding why the platform crowd’s screamed for the non-stop subway train to stop. 

Pushing your glasses further up your nose, you frantically scanned for the easiest escape. Pulling the bill of your cap down further over your face, you ran.  

An emergency warning blared through the tunnel. Over the sirens, a voice encouraged everyone to stay calm. However, it only did the opposite- stoking people’s fears and peeking people’s curiosities. 

Wearing a disguise similar to yours, Steve stalked your movements behind the thick-rimmed glasses. Off to the side and engulfed in shadows, he watched you under the rounded bill of his baseball cap. When his prior date’s screams broke out, he pulled his glasses down in shock but quickly recovered and slid them back into place. 

He was taken back that you ended the girl so suddenly; surprised and oddly proud. Usually, he was the one who took the action and blocked your would-be suitors. But you doing this for him was a dream come true. His dick twitched at your declaration of love. You finally proved how much he meant to you. 

Steve had pretended to leave you alone too long for his liking. But he was never far and you certainly weren't ever forgotten. Tonight, you finally showed him that his waiting was worth it- and that he wasn’t forgotten either. 

After politely thanking and kissing the bland girl goodbye, he expected you to trail him back to his residence and wait until he entered his brownstone like you’ve done after his other dates.

It’s been your pattern for the last two months, but to his annoyance, you never approached him further and he was growing restless. He thought dating other women would smoke you out. But you stayed burrowed. However this time, he took the same girl out more than once. She got the third date you never did. 

He wished he thought of recycling a date sooner, maybe you would have reacted quicker and not so much time would have been spent apart.

But you returned to him and that’s what mattered. 

After adjusting his hardness, he checked the tracker on your phone and noted the direction you were headed. With muscle memory, he twisted through the crowd and made his way towards your apartment. You needed him.

Your breathing was labored as you climbed the stairs to your apartment, excessively stomping out your anger on each step as you replayed Steve kissing her.

She deserved what you did to her. Three dates were too many, you should have ended her after two. 

Kicking off your shoes and throwing your hat aside in the apartment, you sneered at the thought of them together. You aggressively stripped your way down the hallway to the bathroom. Your shucked clothes knocked against the hanging picture frames.

After throwing your bra at your reflection in the mirror, you twisted the shower knobs into submission. The pipes groaned and the water slowly heated as you braced your arms on the counter. Leaning towards the mirror, you took a hard look at yourself. 

After surveying the way the prop glasses perched themselves on the bridge of your nose, your eyes tracked over the curve of your chin and moved down to the elastic band of your panties -

THUMP  

Your eyes snapped back up to your reflection as you frowned at the noise. Shaking your head at your imagination, you pushed yourself off the counter and reached for the candles. With the extra stress tonight brought, scented candles would be soothing- 

THUMP

Was it your imagination? You turned the shower off and slowly opened the bathroom door. Your ears strained to catch the noise, but no sounds greeted you. Exhaling a huff, you were about to close the bathroom door when you heard a low rustling coming from your bedroom.

Wrapping a towel around your panty-covered body, your bare feet padded softly down the hallway to the incoherent sounds. Toeing open the door, your towel partially slipped when you saw Steve sitting on the edge of your bed. Hat and glasses on, he held the teddy bear that was currently playing your favorite lewd recording.   

Steve jostled the bear back and forth between his hands. Tossing it up in the air, he caught it midfall, “There’s my sunshine! Been taking care of our bear, I see.”

Almost naked and fully shocked, you stared at Steve from the doorway, “What are you doing here?”

His eyes didn’t match the smirk on his face, “Now, sunshine, drop the act. I know what you did for us. I saw it.”

The bear moaned in his hands as you stared at him dumbfounded for getting caught. Trying for time, you asked, “Us being- you and the bear?”

“No, sunshine. You and me,” Steve gave a dry chuckle before tossing the stuffed animal over his shoulder. “It’s kind of odd being in your room and on your bed. Well, at least with you knowing I’m here this time, I mean.”

The towel dipped slightly from your grasp at his admission. 

Steve caught your reaction with a grin, but his expression grew serious when he said, “All I ever wanted was for you to see me like I see you, sunshine.”

You felt his gaze roam over your exposed skin, trying to gauge your reaction to his ambushed presence. A part of you was glad to see him, but you thought you’d have more time to practice your confession about your feelings.

But maybe this was the push you needed, the tug in the right direction to be fully honest with yourself.

Looking at Steve, the screams of the woman you killed and the crowd’s outcries of fear failed to replay in your head. There was no play track of guilt. 

The spot within you that should have been filled with remorse was replaced by the calming scent of his cologne and the enjoyment of hearing the recording of him pleasuring himself from the disregarded bear. Steve was in your room- and that realization caused a sweet wetness to gather between your thighs. 

Steve toed out of his shoes and stood in front of your bed. Tossing his shirt aside, he stated, “I saw you missed me.” 

You slowly dragged your eyes away from his tented pants, “Maybe I only missed the attention?”

Steve snorted at your words and walked closer, “No, sunshine. You missed us. And you gifted me such a sweet gesture- just like how I gifted you that bear. Granted yours was a bit more… homicidal, but it was sweet nonetheless.” 

Your insides warmed at his touch. You rested your face in his palms as he cupped and rubbed his thumbs along your cheeks.

Steve gently touched his forehead against yours, pressing your glasses together. His bare chest grazed your towel, “You missed me, sunshine. Admit it.”

Looking over the rim of your glasses, his thumbs swept over your cheeks one more time before you reached for him and admitted what he wanted to hear with a kiss. 

You missed his attention, you missed him.

The old recorded sounds of him cumming filled the room. You bit his bottom lip in the kiss, earning a growl from him. 

You needed this, you needed him.

“You’re perfect for me. All this fire blazing under your skin, sunshine,” Steve moaned and praised you before deepening the kiss.

Without breaking his lips from yours, he took your elbow and pulled you towards the bed. Your fingers threaded through his hair as you stumbled over the forgotten towel.

“I can’t believe we’re here. I wanted this for so long,” Steve whispered into the curve of your neck and his hands roaming over your body. “I want to taste you. Feel your tight pussy wrapped around me. Fuck! I can’t decide how to take you first.”

“..No,” shaking your head at his words. 

“What?”

“No. You don’t get to decide what we do first. I killed for us, I decide.”

Steve’s eyes narrowed with impatience, “...You made me wait.”

“So did you,” you countered, unzipping his pants and sliding your hands in his boxers. “But- I get to decide.”

Steve’s hips snapped forward when you wrapped your fingers around his cock. You eyed the stuffed bear in the corner and smiled wolfishly at Steve, “Be just as vocal for me, handsome.”

He struggled to talk as you ran your hand up and down his shaft with his pre-cum, “Keep... keep the glasses... on.”

Your hand stilled around him and your eyebrow arched. Steve looked hungry and confused until it registered that he tried ordering you. 

“...P-please,” Steve whimpered a request at your motionless hold. “Please, keep the glasses on.”

With a sharp nod, your grip tightened again and you worked another groan out of him. You quickly pulled his pants down and pushed him to bed’s edge. Running your hands over his muscled thighs, you moved his legs apart and settled yourself before him. 

Steve watched as you worked your way up his inner thighs, making him hiss in pleasure from every teasing squeeze and nibble.

“I’ll keep my glasses on but then you keep yours on, too,” you winked before pumping him towards your mouth and swirling your tongue around his red tip.

Steve inhaled with a stutter, lost in the way your wet lips felt wrapped around the head of his cock. He moaned in agreement when you took him further into your warm mouth. 

His labored breaths made your thighs rub together. All those familiar sounds you craved when masturbating to his recording were sharper and deeper now that he loomed over you. 

Steve was captivated by you- and you felt powerful. Each long lick made his body shake. Each stroke and twist caused his hips to jolt off the bed. Cupping his tightening balls, you bobbed your head further down this length. Bracing yourself against his thighs, you looked up at him with wide eyes and hollowed cheeks.

Another growl left his chest as his eyes caught yours. Tilting his head back, he exhaled darkly. Eyes closed behind the thick frames, he cursed in pleasure. 

“F- Fuck,” Steve stammered as you hummed against him.

Your glasses pressed against your face as you buried yourself closer into his pelvis. Your cheeks brushed the inside of his thighs as you took him fully to the hilt. His saltiness on your tongue and his masculine scent clouded your senses, making your panties wetter. 

Steve desperately tried to hold it together but having you before him, strong and glorious, left him unable to hold back much longer. 

“Let me cum, please,” he begged.

You pulled him out with a pop. His dick bounced against his thick thighs and smeared wetness along his stomach. The sudden coolness caused goosebumps to fan across his skin. 

“Please, sunshine.”

Rocking back on your heels, you watched him; goosebumps spreading, chest heaving, hips jolting, cock throbbing. You did this. You brought this incredible man into a pleading state of ecstasy and blind frenzy.  

As your fingertips playfully ran along his length, you rose higher on your knees. You pulled him into a kiss with one hand and stroked his cock faster in your other, mixing the pressure with a tight fist and loose palm.

The taste of him was on your lips as you whispered encouragements, “Let go, handsome. I’ve got you.”

Steve shattered at your words, his fists painfully pressed into the mattress as his ass lifted off the bed from the pleasure. He spilled himself over your grip, tumbling past your knuckles as you milked him.

“Such a good boy,” you praised proudly.

Loosening your hold, you raised your stained hand to his glasses and smeared himself over his lenses, “It took me a while, Steve- but I see you now.”

[wiypt-writes]

Stark Spangled Banner

Ch 3. You Can Miss Something, But Not Want It Back

Summary: Steve opens up to Peggy about his feelings towards Katie and, after an emotionally charged afternoon, things heat up between the pair.  But it all goes horribly wrong.

Pairing: Steve Rogers X OFC Katie Stark

Warnings: Language! Angst and a pair of total dumbasses in love…

A/N: A huge thank you to @angrybirdcr​ for her lovely little edit below. She’s so talented!!!!

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Katie Stark and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Chapter 2

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist // Main Masterlist

 April 2013

“You know, you need to find someone you can experience all this with.” Peggy looked at her picture frames on her nightstand. “So you can have as many memories as I do.” Her gaze returned to Steve and he wondered if she could possibly know about his feelings towards Katie, those feelings that had been growing stronger and stronger over the past few weeks.

And then when she asked the next question, he knew she did.

“How’s Miss Stark?” Peggy asked, her eyes twinkling and Steve looked at her as a wicked smile crossed her face. He rolled his eyes.

“Peg…”

“I’m just asking a question!” She teased.

“We’re just friends.” he sighed.

“Hmmm” the old lady said thoughtfully “Still a bloody idiot when it comes to women, I see.”

He shook his head, a small laugh escaping him.

“I can tell you like her, the way you talk about her.” she pressed

“I do, I like her a lot, but she’s my best friend. Nothing more.”

“Alright, I’ll take your word for it.” She lay back on the pillow. “Thousands wouldn’t.”

“Just a good I don’t need to convince thousands.” He leaned back in the chair, raising an eyebrow at her.

“No, just yourself.” She shot back and he sighed. “Talk to me Steve.” She pressed again and he took a deep breath.

“I don’t know, maybe…ok not maybe…I do like her you’re right, but it’s just so damn complicated.”

“Why?”

“We’re from different places, times.” he sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“Do you always have to be so dramatic?” She laughed

“You know, I’m getting tired of you calling me that.” He teased and Peggy laughed again.

“Because you are!” She shook her head. “Steve, I get it, you’re old…but, you’re not.” “Well that’s not confusing.” He rolled his eyes.

“What I mean is I have lived through these times, seen the world change, a lot of it for the better. Don’t let your life pass you by because you’ve still got one foot jamming open the door to the past”

“I know.” He popped a shoulder in resignation. “You know, sometimes I think it would be easier if I had my old life back, when times seemed a lot simpler.” “But then she wouldn’t be there.” Peggy raised her eyebrows. “You can miss something and not want it back, Steve. Just tell her how you feel, for goodness sake.”

“I don’t want to make an idiot of myself.” He shook his head. “If she doesn’t feel the same then-“

“Then at least you’ll know, and won’t live the rest of forever adding to that huge, great list of ‘what ifs’” the old woman shook her head “You’ve been given a second chance here Steve, don’t waste it. Barnes would be so mad at you right now.”

Steve had to fight a smile as he knew exactly what Buck would be saying if he were there.

“If you don’t ask her out, punk then I’m gonna…”

Suddenly a memory flashed in front of his eyes. The evening Peggy had walked into a pokey London boozer in that red dress, the one that had Bucky practically drooling and Steve’s crotch twitching slightly.

“I’m invisible…” Bucky moaned, turning back to the bar as she left, having just basically asked Steve to go dancing when the fighting was over.“I’m turning into you…”

“Never mind pal, maybe she has a friend…”

“You know, I’d like to see her again one day?” Peggy spoke, jerking him out of his thoughts “Katie, I mean.”

“Really?” he asked. Peggy had mentioned she had met Katie several times years ago, when she was a very small girl. Peggy and Howard had remained close until his death.

She nodded. “Especially if she’s as like Howard as you say.” “Alright, I’ll bring her in one day.” He said, before his phone beeped.

“When?” the old woman pressed.

“Were you always this impatient?” Steve quipped an eyebrow at her as he opened the message. It was a call in. He sighed “Soon, I promise.” He stood up. “Sorry Peg, I gotta go. Duty calls…”

*****

The mission was the retrieval of a stolen piece of Chitauri technology that had, according to Romanoff’s intelligence, been auctioned to some Arms traders operating out of Jordan. They were to intercept the piece of technology before turning over the dealers to the authorities. They were up against it time wise, and for that reason, everyone had boarded the jet with no real plan of what they were actually going to do, Steve had been thinking about it and studying the files since the jet took off and now he and Natasha had the bones of a strategy planned out, they just needed to flesh it out with the team.

“We’re at altitude.” Evans called from the cockpit. “Auto pilot engaged. ETA I hour 34.”

Everyone moved from their seats and crowded round the display as Natasha gave them a rundown of what they were up against.

“The main exits are here and here.” she span the blue prints round on the holodisplay. Katie frowned, her mind working fast “Evans and I can position ourselves here…” She pointed to the right of the screen. “That should give us a clear view of most of the grounds but there’s a blackspot here…” She moved her hand to the left, circling the bottom corner.

“Well we’ll just have to keep them away from there.” Steve said, and Katie glanced at him, his eyes flashing with humour. Their eyes remained locked, before Steve swallowed and he looked back round, clearing his throat. “There should be a clear run from where we touch down to the lawns.”

“Sure.” Katie nodded, making a show of looking at the detail, even though she wasn’t. Her mind was spinning. She’d been picking up signals from Steve for a few weeks now, signals that he might feel the same way as she did. The glances he gave her, the smile he would flash her that made her feel like there was no one else in the room. The gentle touches, the way he would lift her legs on movie nights so they were laying across his lap, how he would throw his arm round her when she’d lean into him, moments like the one that had just passed… but then, he made no effort to take things further and she wasn’t about to push him into anything. If there was something there, he had to decide, he had to make the decision he was ready to move forward. 

And Katie wasn’t sure he ever would be.

“Rumlow, I want a STRIKE perimeter set up around the site. Cover that blackspot.” Steve looked at Rumlow who nodded. "The weapon is our main priority, but I want a clean sweep so they don’t have chance to do this again. Then I want you and Rollins with me and Romanoff inside to flush them out. Stark, Evans you to take down anyone who looks like they might break the perimeter, non-lethal if you can.”

Katie turned to Evans who nodded at her, the pair of them sharing a fist bump as he winked at her. Evans was a brilliant partner, and a good friend at that too. They worked well together.

The rest of the journey was spent pouring over blue prints, and once they reached the point where they could land safely, everyone was confident they were prepared as much as they could be. Whether that would be enough, was a different question.  

Natasha and Steve slinked off into the shadows, heading to the building. There were two armed guards on the door but they had the element of surprise and took them out easily.

“Ok, we’re in…” Steve spoke. “Get ready, as soon as they see us they’ll make a run for it.”

Katie listened from her vantage point, a tall oak tree that overhung the South East side of the property, rifle trained, ready.

“I count six.” Natasha spoke

“At least three are armed.” Rumlow added

“Any sign of the weapon?” Katie asked.

“Negative…”

Katie kept her attention on the spot she was covering, and had to fight the giggle that threatened to erupt in her throat when she heard Steve utter, quite possibly, the cheesiest line he could have come out with when their team burst into the room.

“Auction is over Gentlemen. Where’s the Weapon?”

There was a split second and then all hell broke loose. Gun fire erupted in the ears of everyone listening on the coms along with the familiar sound of vibranium clanging off surfaces and people alike.

“One is making a break for it.” Rumlow yelled and Katie stiffened, raising her rifle slightly “Along with a case, it must be the weapon.”

“In pursuit.” Nat responded.“

He’s armed.” Steve shot back. “Someone cover her.” More gunfire and clanging rang out as Katie watched the door she was covering, not once breaking her line of sight. Suddenly it burst open and the man with the case flew out, shortly followed by a shock of red hair. But as Katie watched, her sharp eyes picked up movement in the shadow and someone barrelled at Natasha taking her down.

“Shit! Romanoff’s got company!”

“I’m handling it.” The red head grunted, jumping up.

Katie paused, before remembering the main operative.

“I’ve got no shot.” Evans spoke in her ear and Katie wheeled round locating the man in her sight. She cocked her gun, exhaled sharply, and pulled the trigger. Seconds later he hit the floor, clutching at his knee.

“Hostile down.” she informed, allowing herself a little smug smile before her attention turned to Natasha, who now had her target in a choke hold. He went limp and then she released him, dropping him.

“Well handled Widow.” Katie quipped.

“You do know that I can kill a man in twenty different ways, using just my hands, right?” Natasha replied, making her way over to the man with a bullet in his knee cap.

“Twenty?” Katie muttered, “I can think of, what, like eight, max?”

“Clearly you lack imagination, Nova.”

Once Steve was happy that the inside was clear and everyone was rounded up and secured, he made his way outside and headed over to where Natasha was kneeling over the briefcase. She opened it and grinned up at Steve, the black, silver and purple metal shining back up at them.

“The package is secure.” Steve smiled at Natasha, “Alright, Good job team. Rumlow, tell the Authorities they can move in, clear this lot up.”

“Sure Cap.”

“She’s good.” Natasha watched Katie join Evans where he was crossing the lawn, the two exchanging a hi-five before they made their way back to the jet.

“Yeah she is.” Steve nodded, allowing his eyes to follow Katie for a moment a she walked across the grounds.

“When you gonna ask her on a date?” Nat asked, turning to him as he picked up the case and they made their way back to join their team, the local police now swarming the place meant they were no longer needed.

“Seriously?” Steve looked at the red head rolling his eyes. “We’re in the middle of an op and you ask me that?”

“Well first off the op is over and second off I’m just trying to help. I see the way you look at her, like there’s no one else in the room.”

Steve floundered for a response. Was he really that obvious, or was Natasha simply that observant? He settled for a shake of the head, and an exasperated sigh. “You were trying to fix me up with someone from accounts not long ago.”

“Yeah that was before I decided Stark is a better match “ She shrugged, walking up the ramp to the jet.

Thankfully, Steve was spared responding as the jet was loud with cheering, the team all crowding Katie, taking turns to slap her back and congratulate her on a shot well taken.

Katie couldn’t help but grin as she removed her utility vest, before holding her hands up “Thanks but it was a team effort.” She felt a hand drop on her shoulder and she turned to Steve.

“If you hadn’t taken that shot he would have got away.” He looked at her. “All in a day work Cap.” she smiled.

“I mean it. You’re the best shooter I’ve seen since Buck.” He gave her shoulder a squeeze before instructing Evans to get them back to base.

As they flew back, Rumlow was engaging Katie in a conversation about a date he had had the previous weekend. Steve wasn’t really listening, but as Katie threw her head back in a genuine laugh at something Rumlow had said, gently nudging the man in the arm, it felt like someone was digging knives into his chest as the waves of jealousy crashed over him.

He glanced over at Romanoff who raised an eyebrow at him having seen the exchange and mouthed the word “just fucking ask her” and he looked away, irritated.

Steve wasn’t a chauvinist by any means, but he’d had enough that day of women telling him what to do.

*****

May 2013

The start of May brought with it a week of nothing but rain. And it was during this week that Fury dropped a bombshell on Steve. The Smithsonian wanted to curate an exhibit about him, and SHIELD along with the Government thought it would be a good idea. Steve wasn’t entirely sure how he felt to be honest. He knew the world was fascinated with Captain America, but he wasn’t sure how he felt about them knowing about him, about Steve Rogers.

So this was how he’d ended up taking a trip down memory lane in an office at the Triskellion, surrounded by boxes of his belongings that had all been in storage, things he had long forgotten he had. He’d found his mother’s old ring, the one his father had bought her when they left Ireland, a St Christopher’s pendant that had belonged to his father, a few books which Katie told him were first editions and probably worth a fortune, a couple of old records, a stash of Photos which Katie was currently digging through and something that made his breath catch when his hand closed around it. His compass, the one containing Peggy’s photo.

“Steve.” Katie spoke and he looked at her. She gestured him over and he obliged as she held out the photo for him. He glanced down, a small smile crossing his face as he looked down at the photo of him and Bucky, both in their uniforms, laughing.  “Can you remember what you were laughing at?” she asked him.

“They had us doing this info documentary type thing, for the people back home.” He cleared his throat, taking the photo. “We were laughing at how utterly ridiculous and staged the whole thing was, like we would ever let press near our actual ops.”

Katie reached for the next photo and this one made her heart stop completely. Steve was on the left, looking at something that the man to his right was showing him on a screen. And that man needed no introduction.

“Dad…” she breathed out as Steve peered over her shoulder.

“He was a good man your father” Steve smiled as he thought of Howard “If a little… wild.”

“Wild? Dad?” She raised her eyebrow

“Yeah, he errr, liked to fondue…” Steve said, as he thought back to that conversation when he had thought fondue was some kind of innuendo for what Stark and Peggy got up to on their private time

“It’s just bread and cheese my friend…” Howard had said, clapping him on the shoulder.

“Really? But I thought…“

"Well that’s your first mistake pal. The minute you think you know what’s going on a woman’s mind is the moment your goose is well and truly cooked…”

“Wow, melted cheese…what a rebel” Katie snorted sarcastically.

 “Well I thought it was…never mind,” he shrugged, absentmindedly turning over the compass in his hand and he opened it, glancing down at the photo inside for the first time in almost seventy years.

“Peggy?” Katie asked, looking down at the compass

“Yeah” he snapped it shut and then looked at her, deciding that the time was right. He wanted to take her to see Peggy. Not just because Peggy had asked him to, but because he wanted to. “Would you like to meet her?”

“Me?” Katie asked, surprise in her voice.

“Well yeah, you’re a big part of my life now and I know she’d love to see you again”

“I’d be honoured.” Katie replied, and she meant it. Peggy had been important to her father, and she was curious to meet the woman that had held her best friend’s heart. Steve beamed back at her, thrilled by her answer and as their eyes locked, he felt that warm feeling as the butterflies in his stomach woke up.

******

They sorted his belongings into three separate categories- things for the museum, some more stuff to take back to his apartment, and the remainder to go back to storage, before they headed over town to see Peggy. Giving Katie assurances he wouldn’t be long, Steve entered the room first, leaving Katie, who was feeling quite nervous, waiting outside.

She didn’t know where the nerves were coming from, after all she had met Peggy when she was a young child, but that was before she knew who she was. Back then she’d simply been a lady that worked with her daddy, and now she knew the truth.

Inside the room Steve quickly told Peggy where he had been and she smiled when he told her about the museum and the photos, quipping that she would quite like to see that when it was all open.

“That is if they ever let me out of this place. I swear breaking out of Alcatraz would be easier.”

He chuckled at her joke. “Well, today I brought someone to you so you don’t have to plan an escape just yet.”

The old woman instantly brightened up and beamed up at him. "Katie?”

Steve smiled at her excitement and nodded “Yeah.”

“Well don’t leave me waiting, again!” Peggy shooed him to the door and he stood up, opening it. Katie spun to face him, her hands wringing each other and he gave her what he hoped was an encouraging smile.

“Come on.” He held the door open. Katie took a deep breath, quelling her nerves and stepped into the room, Steve’s hand gently falling to her back as he guided her over to a seat by the bed.

It was easy for Katie to see that Peggy Carter had been a good looking, powerful woman in her day. Her eyes were bright, hair set in bouncy curls and she had a sort of regal quality emanating from her. She shrewdly eyed the brunette, before she chuckled and looked at Steve.

“Good grief!” Peggy smiled, looking back at Katie “Forgive me my dear, but you really do have that Stark look about you, but an awful lot of your mother too.”

Katie relaxed instantly and smiled back. “So I’ve been told. It’s an honour to meet you ma’am, again. I’ve heard so much about you.” “Please, call me Peggy” she smiled reaching for her hand “And I’m so pleased to see you again, it’s been a long time.”

Katie smiled, taking Peggy’s hand as the old woman continued.

“Steve talks about you a lot.” Peggy smiled and Katie glanced up at Steve, raising an eyebrow as he inwardly groaned, taking a deep breath.

 “Peggy…” he warned, somewhat exasperatedly.

“What?” she asked innocently “I’m just saying…” she turned to look at Katie “Steve says you’ve been a good friend to him since he came out of the ice. I’m glad he’s had someone.” “He’s a good friend to me.” Katie replied, smiling “Keeps me on the straight and narrow.”

“You mean I try to.” Steve teased, and he saw Peggy smile as he was sure Katie was rolling her eyes “She’s a law unto herself this one Peg, not unlike you were!”

“He’s very sensible.” Peggy loudly whispered to Katie, before the old woman levelled Steve with a look, her eyes flashing mischievously. “But I want to know, Steven, why on earth haven’t you taken this gorgeous young lady dancing yet?”

Steve groaned and looked at Katie, feeling the heat rush up his neck and into his cheeks as he could do nothing but mouth the word sorry. Katie’s cheeks also flushed a shade of pink and he looked away as he replied, dodging the question.

 “I can’t dance…you know that.”

“Everyone can dance, they just need the right partner.” Peggy looked at him, eyes locking onto his meaningfully. He swallowed again and Katie instantly picked up on his discomfort, she wasn’t stupid, the dancing thing clearly meant something and unless she was mistaken Peggy was implying something to do with her. Katie took pity on him and decided to save him his embarrassment so she spoke, breaking the moment.

“Well I won’t be much of a teacher, I’ve got two left feet.” she said, casually causing Steve to smile slightly shooting her a side glance.

*****

Steve would be lying if he said he hadn’t been slightly worried about introducing the woman who had been his first love to the girl he was harbouring feelings for now, but he needn’t have worried. Katie had laughed and joked with the old woman, often at his expense but he hadn’t minded. In fact, he had enjoyed it.

But that’s what Katie did. She made people feel better, at ease, knew what to say and when to say it.

And he’d decided there and then, buoyed by how well the meeting had actually gone, he was going to ask her out on a date. Today had brought everything into focus for him. Peggy was right, he couldn’t move forward and take the second chance life had given him if he had one foot in the past, one eye over his shoulder, and one part of his brain constantly wondering about what could have been.

Katie, meanwhile was locked in her own thoughts. The meeting with Peggy had put her slightly on edge. Not because of the old woman, in fact it had been amazing to meet her, but something about Steve changed as they left the Nursing Home. It was almost as if he was putting up a guard. She told herself it was normal, he was bound to feel confused after visiting his old flame and the whole thing with the museum, but part of her couldn’t shake off the feeling he was hiding something, and she didn’t like it.

She wasn’t an idiot. Steve and her had grown closer over the last few months and she knew to many it would be considered more than what you would dub a normal platonic relationship. She also knew, however, that he had ghosts in his past unlike any she’d ever dealt with before, which was what was making this entire situation ridiculously complicated.

She was pleased to see, however, that as they neared his apartment he relaxed and suggested that watch a film. They were still discussing which one as they climbed the three flights to his apartment.

“No.” He immediately deadpanned when she suggested watching the remaining Saw ones before he rolled his eyes when he clocked her grin. He hated those films, and she knew it. “Why don’t we start Star Wars? We never did get round to it…”

“Providing you don’t start the debate about which episode we begin with because if so I’m not sure I can be bothered trying to explain it again…” “I just don’t understand why you don’t start with one.” he took the opportunity to tease her as he slid the key into his lock.

“Because you don’t.” She said exasperatedly and he smirked at how easy it was to rile her when it came to films. ”It ruins the surprise and plot lines. You go Episode Four, Five and Six, then we hit One, Two and Three….”

They both turned as his neighbour, Kate walked onto the landing, bag over her shoulder, clutching a pile of mail.

“Hi Steve.” She smiled, unlocking her door.

“Hi Kate.” He greeted her back before he turned to Katie, who he realised had never met the woman before “This is my neighbour. Kate this is,”

“Katie.” she extended her hand, smiling politely.

“Katie Stark, I recognised you…sorry.”

“It’s fine” she said, still smiling. There was a pause and the faint sound of a phone could be heard.

“Sorry… I gotta’ get that.” Kate said quickly making her way into her apartment. “Goodnight Steve.”

“Night Kate.” He said in response. When he turned back around Katie was waiting, smirking at him.

“You’re as bad as Natasha.” He rolled his eyes, closing the door behind them as she stood front of him, kicking off her shoes.

“What you mean?” She asked walking through the small cloak area and into the hall way, heading straight for the kitchen.

“She keeps trying to set me up on dates” he sighed watching as Katie pulled two beers from his fridge.

“Who with?” Katie asked, frowning slightly, and she felt her neck and ears growing warm as the green eyed monster stirred.

“Pretty much anyone she can.” He snorted as they walked back into the living area.

“And none of them are…” She pressed, and he sighed.

“No.”

“Can I ask you something?” Katie sat next to him.

“If I say no are you gonna ask me anyway?” He looked at her. “Yeah.” She said after a pause. He snorted and gestured for her to go ahead.

“Peggy and you…how far did you actually get…I mean…”

Oh Jesus…

He contemplated brushing this one off, but then he realised he couldn’t lie to her, and he didn’t want to.

“We were supposed to go dancing.” He said gently, turning to face her, his right hand curling over the back of the sofa and she immediately understood then what that moment in the Nursing Home had been about. “Like on a date. I’d never been before, never found me the right person. And then I ended up in the ice before we got the chance.” He paused shook his head, “I know it’s dumb but…”

“It’s not Steve.”  Katie replied, and at that she felt the tears prick her eyes. The emotion of the day completely overwhelming her. This man, this wonderful man had been denied the opportunity to live his life how he should. Robbed of his best friend, his love and all because he’d done what he could to keep people safe, serve his country.

“Hey.” He frowed as he noticed she was getting upset. “What is it? What’s wrong, Doll?”

“I hate that all that happened to you.” she shook her head softly. “That you never got chance to do all those things, that you never got your dance or your happily ever after. You deserve more.”

“Katie.” he sighed, gently wiping away a tear that fell down her face with his thumb. “Taking that plane down was my choice. Don’t cry over it, please. I hate seeing you upset.”

And he did. Her face was made for smiles, her eyes should be happy and shining, not full of tears. “Sorry.” She dipped her head, and then, before he could stop himself, Steve reached out gently and his finger tilted her face back up to look at him.

Ocean blue met emerald green, and Steve felt his insides coil tightly like a spring as Katie’s eyes bounced across both of his, the distance between them growing shorter, and shorter…

And then there was a knock on the door. Steve closed his eyes, let out a sigh and unfolded himself off the couch. Cursing internally all the way to the door, Steve wrenched it open a little harshly and took a deep breath at the blonde at the other side.

“Sorry to interrupt…” Kate said, handing him a letter “But this was in the pile of mail I got before.”

“Oh, thanks…”

“Enjoy your film.” Kate smiled and Steve nodded. “Have a good evening.”

The door clicked shut and Steve turned and headed past the doorway to the lounge and into kitchen, dropping the bill on the side. He rest his hands, palms flat on the cool surface of the kitchen counter, hanging his head slightly and taking a deep breath. He was in deep.

“I’m gonna head home.” Katie spoke and he turned to look at her, his face falling. He didn’t want her to go. But instead of telling her that he merely nodded.

“Okay.”

Without another word she turned and left, leaving Steve stood alone in his flat, rooted to the spot, disappointment an anger lancing through his body like red hot pokers.

Outside the rain had started again, so Katie didn’t waste any time in getting to her car. She’d wanted nothing more than for Steve to ask her to stay, to prove to her that he wasn’t merely swept up in the emotion of the day, but he hadn’t. Which was all the answer to her unasked question she needed. They both had baggage, she knew that, but Steve Rogers came with an entire fucking suitcase.

She managed to start the engine before she felt the tears spring forth. Slamming her head against the head rest in frustration she wiped at her face.

She was in deep, and she had no idea what she was doing to do about it.

***** Chapter 4

**Original Posting**