#nothing like updating my fics on a wednesday night

[joequiinn]

The Dos & Don'ts of Fake Dating | E.M. x reader | pt. 7

[chap six] | [all chapters here] | [chapter eight]

summary: You propose a crazy idea to the resident freak of Hawkins, Eddie Munson. But maybe he was even crazier for agreeing to it…

notes & tropes: fem reader, slow burn, faking dating, opposites attract, bratty rich bitch reader, super minor revenge plot, not-quite-enemies-to-lovers

a/n: Sooo, I did not mean to take a three week hiatus from this fic :) I had so much of this chapter written within a couple of days and then abruptly stopped writing entirely, literally couldn't work on any of my stories. But now the writers block has passed and we FINALLY have an update, and boy these chapters just keep getting longer as the story goes on. I hope this one makes up from my recent absence~

wc: 6.6k

Chapter Seven

Wednesday morning was supposed to start like it always did - small talk with your mom over a bowl of cereal and then running out the door before the conversation whittled down to awkwardness. You wish you could appreciate your mother’s efforts to try to connect with you, but she never asked about anything beyond school and skating - once those two subjects were exhausted, it was as if you two had nothing more to talk about.

But today was different. Today, your dad was actually sitting at the breakfast table instead of rushing to his office before you even came downstairs. Today, your head was a little fuzzy from drinking the night before. Today, you wished you had just run out the door and skipped breakfast, because you could see right away that your parents wanted to have a conversation.

You paused briefly in the kitchen entry, looking between the two before trying to act casual, walking towards the pantry and preparing a quick breakfast. You could feel their eyes following you, and damn did you wish someone would just say something. Your father always acted like this before a serious conversation - he stayed silent to intimidate you, to put you on edge in hopes that it would make you more pliable to what he had to say. You’d always assumed he did this to clients and business associates as well, as if to suggest some kind of dominance over them. Well, you weren’t going to let it get to you that easily, you never did before.

You sat at the opposite end of the table from your father, your mom hovering at the kitchen sink although there were no dishes to be cleaned. You started to eat as if you were totally unphased by their watchful eyes, as if you were entirely oblivious to their stares, although you knew neither of them bought the act for a second. One of you was going to cave eventually, and it sure as hell wasn’t going to be you.

Sure enough, your mom spoke first as she approached the table, just like you expected her to, “You have practice after school today?”

You gave her a critical look before nodding - you knew that she knew you always skated on Wednesday, making that a pretty pathetic attempt at breaking the tension in the room.

“Are you actually going?” Your father asked in an accusatory tone, although he maintained a neutral expression so as not to give away what he was thinking.

You couldn’t help the mean look in your eyes as you met his intense gaze. Your tone was stubborn and cold, “Yes.”

“And will that boy be there?” The disdain in your father’s words was clear as day. Your brow knotted at the question, both because you didn’t like his tone and because you wondered how he found out about Eddie already.

“Boy?” Your tone was mocking - you weren’t feigning ignorance, but rather presenting your father with a challenge, daring him to elaborate on what had gotten his mood so twisted. And it was clear in his face that he didn’t appreciate your attitude one bit.

“Mrs. Redford saw you two together on Friday.” Your mother chimed in, hoping to serve as the calm mediary considering that you and your father were both intense, mean people.

Of course it was Mrs. Redford who told your mom about Eddie - she was such a damn gossip, and with her daughter participating in your skating lessons, you should have known she would have noticed you leaving with Eddie that night. She was drawn to drama and gossip as if it was the air she breathed, so it was certainly no surprise that she ran off to tell your parents about this new boy that she spotted you with.

“Why does it matter?” You dropped your spoon in the forgotten breakfast that sat in front of you, slouching into your seat in growing frustration.

“Because he’s clearly a troublemaker.” Your dad’s tone matched yours, causing you to roll your eyes, “Don’t you dare roll your eyes at me.”

Your jaw clenched at the threat in his voice, “How could you possibly know someone is trouble without even meeting them?”

Your father pressed his palm to the table firmly, “Because I know his type - a lazy punk only interested in skating by and disrespecting the establishment. I’m a good judge of character.”

“How?” You insisted with exasperation, causing your father to look down on you as if you were some stupid kid.

“You were out way past curfew last night - were you with him?” Your dad glowered, and evidently your expression gave him the answer he wanted, “You ran out the door without telling your mother where you were going or who you were with. She saw you climb into some van, for Christ sake. And the way Mrs. Redford described this hoodlum? The leather, the hair, the tattoos? What’s gotten into you?”

You held your ground firmly, glaring as you crossed your arms, “I don’t see what the issue is.”

“The issue is you’re acting out, you’re avoiding us, and this boy you’re seeing seems to be encouraging this behavior!” Your father raised his voice, “I don’t care that you’re eighteen now, you still live under my roof.”

“You don’t care about anything!” You can’t help but shout back, “You only care now because you’re worried I’ll make you look bad. You’re worried about stupid gossip!”

“That’s not what this is about!”

“We’re just worried about you,” Your mother tried to intervene in an even tone, drawing the attention of the both of you, “We don’t want you to lose sight of what’s important just because of a boy.”

You throw up your hands in defiance, your voice harsh, “What important things am I ‘losing sight of!?’”

“Don’t take that tone with your mother!” Your dad jumped back in, “The last thing you need your senior year is some punk distracting you from school, from skating. You need to consider your future. Don’t you want to get into a good school? Don’t you want to skate?”

“I don’t know what I want!” You admitted angrily, “Maybe I don’t want to go to college or skate or do the shit you tell me to! Maybe I just want to enjoy life a little.”

“Enjoying life doesn’t get you anywhere.” Your father glared, “We tell you these things to help you. So, stop hanging around this boy and start focusing on your future.”

“You didn’t care what I was doing before, why do you care now?” You challenged coldly, “You didn’t care when I was out late with Duncan, you didn’t care when I’d miss practice because I’d be out with Amelia or Janet. You only care now because it’s Eddie.”

You instantly realized you shouldn’t have mentioned his name. Not yet, at least, not in the middle of this argument. Yes, you wanted your parents to know you were “dating” some new, troublesome guy, but you didn’t want them to actually know who he was yet - you had hoped to build up a little more suspense first, a little more tension between you all. You hoped your face didn’t give away what you were thinking.

“Eddie?” Your father laughed as he said the name, “You call things off with this Eddie now, do you hear me?”

You looked between your parents’ faces - your father looked as stern and condescending as ever, and your mom looked like she was away somewhere in thought. Perhaps she was trying to pinpoint any Eddies she’d heard of before and figure out who the hell he is.

A frustrated sound leapt from your throat as you rose to your feet aggressively, the legs of your chair making a grating sound on the floor.

“Whatever,” You spun around to leave, seeing the time on the wall clock before shooting your parents a mocking look, “I’m going to be late. Great job getting me back on track.”

You knew just how rude your tone was, so you practically ran out of the kitchen to avoid your father’s wrath.

“Excuse me!?” His offended voice shouted after you. You scooped up your school bag and your car keys, running out the door without looking back.

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Just like you suspected, you were late for your first period class, receiving a reprimanding from your teacher, which only served to piss you off even more. Today just wasn’t your fucking day. So, by the time you walked into your math class a couple hours later, it was actually something of a relief to see Eddie already there; why you were actually pleased to see him was a thought you weren’t quite ready to entertain.

He grinned once he spotted you, but the way you flopped into your seat caused his face to immediately twist with curiosity. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his legs situated in the aisle between you two.

“Feeling hungover, princess?” He asked with only a small jest in his tone, as if he could tell that you weren’t in the mood right now. His eyebrows furrowed together as you glared, although you knew he wasn’t the one that deserved the cold look.

“No.” You groaned, your jaw clenched tight enough to hurt your teeth. You sighed through your nose, trying to collect yourself - it was stupid to let this frustration eat at you, although you were always prone to holding onto grudges.

Eddie nudged your knee softly, so you met his eyes again. He stared at you patiently and inquisitively, “So, what’s wrong?”

You considered for a moment whether or not you wanted to tell him. With a sigh, you sat up in your seat, turning so that you mirrored Eddie, legs in the aisle and knees brushing his. You let your knees rest there, allowing the small amount of contact as if you needed it to ground you, as if you even enjoyed it.

“It’s my parents.” You start, looking down at where your knees met his. Your skirt was short and his jeans were ripped, so you were skin-to-skin. It didn’t matter, of course, you were simply trying to find something else to focus on, “They aren’t thrilled about you.”

“Oh, so you told them?” Eddie gave you a small grin, hoping to lighten your mood a little. And you wouldn’t admit it, but it was already beginning to work.

“One of my neighbors saw us together.” The bell rang in the middle of your sentence, but neither of you faced forward, eyes staying locked on one another.

“You seem pretty worked up about it.” His quiet tone had a hint of question to it, clearly wondering what exactly happened with your parents. Your teacher began going down the attendance sheet and the focus of today’s lesson.

“My dad’s a dick.” You responded in a whisper, “Just grilling me about shit - about you - as if I were a damn criminal or something.”

The sound of your name on your teacher’s lips drew your attention, and you harshly met her stare, “Would you two like to join the class now?”

You rolled your eyes as Eddie smiled lazily, the both of you turning to face forward. He reached out to give your knee one more playful nudge, as if to assure you that all would be well.

As the teacher began her lesson, you and Eddie kept stealing glances at one another conspiratorially, which helped to slowly ease the tension in your shoulders, to slowly relax your mood. After another couple of minutes, Eddie held a folded piece of paper between the two of you, obviously intending for you to read it. You slyly took it from him, fingers brushing against his as you wondered what he possibly had to say right now.

I think I can win him over.

The silly little doodle accompanying the note emphasized the joke, and you couldn’t help but grin at it just a little. You side-eyed Eddie, catching the way he smiled mischievously at you. With a roll of your eyes, you scribbled down a reply and handed it to him.

All the charm in the world wouldn’t win him over.

You watched Eddie’s face out of the corner of your eye, awaiting his reply with a hint of eagerness. The note was back in your hand once again.

So you admit I’m charming?

A small huff of a laugh escaped you as you rolled your eyes, beginning to write a response. But a presence walking down the aisle drew your attention, noticing your teacher was walking right to you. Your stomach dropped a little, realizing you were caught, but you simply looked up at her as if you did nothing wrong.

“Is there something you two would like to share with everyone?” She asked accusatory, crossing her arms in reprimand. You held her eyes with a challenging stare - god, this day just kept giving you hit after hit.

“Nothing in particular.” You retorted, hearing someone in the room make a nonplussed sound. Your teacher glowered at your attitude.

“Then I suggest you follow along or take this little conversation to detention.”

You gave her a mean, mocking smile, baring your teeth almost as if it was a threat, “I’ll take the detention, please.”

Again, more surprised sounds from the teacher and from students. You dared to look over at Eddie, who looked both taken aback and impressed at how difficult you were being today.

“Excuse me?” Your teacher challenged you.

Your eyes were dark as you stood your ground, “Detention. Please.”

The teacher looked between both you and Eddie with a huff, but a moment later a decisive look crossed her features, which put you on edge.

“Fine, if that’s how you want it to be. You can go to detention. Mr. Munson will stay here.” You gaped, your eyes glaring at the back of her head as she turned to walk back towards her desk, “No point in sending the both of you, right?”

You hated the fact that even your teacher was now mocking you, resented the fact that this day just kept piling more shit on your shoulders. You shared a look with Eddie, who looked sorry for landing you in trouble; you thought that you should’ve been upset at him for it, but you weren’t. It seemed like Eddie was the only person not getting on your last nerve today.

You rose to your feet as your teacher walked back towards you, a slip of paper in her hand outstretched to you. Haphazardly, you threw all your belongings in your bag before aggressively snatching the note from your teacher.

“You give that to the detention attendant, I don’t want to hear that you ran out on it.” She instructed with that hint of satisfaction in her tone. You glowered back at her.

“Bite me.” You spun on your heels as various students made, yet again, sounds of excitement at the harsh tone and words you threw at the teacher. As she started spewing some kind of reprimand that you weren’t listening to, you marched out of the room.

What a fucking day. You stomped down the hall, steam practically coming from your ears with how pissed off you were. In annoyance, you balled up the detention slip and tossed it at the nearest trash can, although you missed, which irritated you even more.

You’d never gotten detention before. Under different circumstances, you probably would have been thrilled to be sent to detention, to finally be enough trouble for a teacher to send you off. But after the morning you’ve been having, all you could feel was frustration.

Less than a minute after you stomped out of math class, you heard a door swing open and hit a wall somewhere behind you, prompting you to turn towards the noise. And once you saw who it was, you couldn’t help but smile with a surprising sense of glee.

Eddie Munson, your knight in shining armor.

He dashed down the hall to catch up with you, smiling just as widely as you were as he practically skidded to a halt in front of you. A small laugh escaped you as he hunched over in an attempt to catch his breath. He looked up at you with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

“Let’s get out of here.” He instructed simply, grabbing your wrist and dragging you down the hall with him. You allowed yourself to be led through the school, your smile settling into a simple, pleased smirk, relieved to have Eddie’s company.

“And where are we off to?” You asked, receiving a shrug from Eddie. Once you two had turned into a new hallway, he slowed so you could walk side-by-side, experimentally sliding his hand into yours. Once again, you still felt hesitant at more intimate contact such as this, but you allowed it without cringing too hard.

“Anywhere but here, you troublemaker.” He teased with a content smile, guiding you towards the school exit.

“So, we’re skipping?” You inquired, and you had to admit the idea really appealed to you right now - you’d had enough of today, and if you didn’t escape you thought you might explode with utter frustration.

“If that’s alright with you, princess.” Eddie gave you a silly expression while bumping your shoulder.

“Please get me the hell out of here.”

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The most time you’d ever spent in a video arcade was for one pathetic round of Galaga while on a date with a boy your freshman year. Following that, you decided arcades weren’t for you - they were always crowded with a bunch of kids running around and shouting, and you’d branded all the adults that spent time at arcades as total losers. What could possibly be so appealing about games designed for children?

So, when Eddie pulled up in front of the Palace Arcade, you gave him a critical look, which he chose to ignore entirely as he stepped out of the van. He rounded to your side and opened the door, offering you a hand like a royal stepping out of a coach. You looked between his hand and his face for a moment, still judging the choice to come to an arcade. Reading the look on your face all too well, Eddie pulled his own affronted expression.

“What, too good for arcade games?” He put on an over-the-top, almost Shakespearean tone while placing a melodramatic hand to his chest, “But I’ve brought you to the Palace, the finest establishment in town for the ice princess.”

You rolled your eyes and tried not to laugh at him, unwilling to admit that even Eddie’s dumbest jokes were starting to win you over. Nonetheless, you took his outstretched hand with a large sigh, stepping out of the van despite your lack of interest in this place. Eddie, of course, smiled triumphantly, closing the door behind you and leading you into the arcade.

Given that it was only about noon, the place was virtually dead, which was quite the relief - no need to worry about loud, annoying kids getting in the way. Aside from the two of you and the Palace employee, there was a group of three college-aged boys clustered around Frogger and a lone man focused on something called Paperboy. None of the patrons looked up when you and Eddie entered, and the only reason the employee took any note of you is because it was simply his job. Of course, once he spotted you, he did a double-take.

The employee’s jaw hung slack as if in disbelief, and he nervously greeted you two, trying to keep his attention on Eddie. It appeared that the two were familiar with one another, and you wondered if Eddie really spent that much time here or if maybe this was a guy that used to go to school with the two of you. Either way, their interaction wrapped up quickly, and Eddie dragged you to the change machine.

As Eddie inserted a few bills, you looked around at the other arcade patrons, who finally seemed to take notice of you. In the group near Frogger, one of the boys nudged his friends, insisting they both look up; none so subtly, they all looked at you as the music from their arcade cabinet seemed to signal game over. You looked back with a raised brow and cold eyes, causing them all to quickly look away, although you were certain you’d probably catch them spying again. As you gazed back at Eddie, you couldn’t help the grin that spread across your lips - there was something about being the only chick in the arcade that amused you, something about being totally out of place and totally out of Eddie’s league.

Eddie stashed the change in his pocket, holding out a few quarters that you tentatively took from his hand.

“What first, princess?” You looked at him with a judgmental expression, causing him to narrow his eyes critically, “Come on, this’ll be fun.”

“Sure…” You looked around and assessed the arcade, pointing at the nearest cabinet without any consideration, “That one.”

Eddie huffed out a laugh at your choice while shaking his head, knowing you didn’t care one bit what game you started with, “Dig Dug, huh?”

You made another face at him, so he simply rolled his eyes and led you towards the game. He leaned against the cabinet while crossing his arms, giving you an expectant look; in turn, your brow scrunched.

Eddie shrugged, “Well, go for it - this one was your idea.”

“I don’t want to.” You responded as if affronted by the suggestion, “You play.”

Eddie once again rolled his eyes with an exacerbated grin, “I don’t play Dig Dug.”

“Then play something else.” You instructed stubbornly.

“You aren’t getting out of this one.” Eddie countered, motioning towards the cabinet he still rested against, “So, be a big girl and play the game.”

You gaped at his response, feeling a slight stir at his word choice. There was a challenging glint in his eyes that suggested he wasn’t going to back down easily, that he could volley with you all damn day. As you closed your mouth with a small purse to your lips, you looked around the arcade with a raised brow.

“I don’t want to play that one.” You crossed your arms, to which Eddie once more smirked at your stubborn determination.

“Then choose a different one.” He responded while mimicking your body language.

You narrowed your eyes at him before your gaze studied the rows of arcade cabinets, recognizing none of the names. This was something you were grossly uneducated on, arcades making just about as much sense to you as a foreign language. It wasn’t until you finally recognized the name of one that you allowed yourself to meet Eddie’s stare again.

“Okay. That one.” You once again pointed past his shoulder, so Eddie twisted around to see which cabinet finally caught your interest. A faint laugh escaped him as he looked back to you with an amused expression across his face.

“Oh, you wouldn’t like Donkey Kong.” His tone seemed to be daring you to argue, to prove him wrong. You pulled another face at him.

“I don’t like any of these. But I’ve seen that stupid monkey before.” Eddie shrugged in acceptance of your response as he continued to grin, pushing off the Dig Dug cabinet.

“If you insist.” He taunted while turning to walk towards Donkey Kong, you following behind him with a huff. But as you were nearly there, the gang of college kids beat you to it, causing both you and Eddie to halt; he began to turn to you, prepared to ask what the new plan was now that the one cabinet you showed interest in was taken.

Of course, you weren’t about to have that. Sure, you didn’t care an ounce about these video games and you had zero interest in actually playing, but you’d already had enough today, and you’d be damned if you let these guys play Donkey Kong instead of you. So, you brushed past Eddie with a determined look, marching up to them with all the authority in the world.

“Excuse you,” You started rudely, drawing all their eyes in your direction. None of the three really looked like the nerdy type, so none of them backed down from you the way that you were used to, “I’m playing that one.”

They shared a laugh, clearly amused by your attempt to intimidate them. One of the boys countered, “You’re outta luck, we were here first.”

You insisted more firmly, “Just move.”

One of them looked between you and Eddie, provoked by your attitude, “There’s a whole arcade, go find something else to play.”

They returned to the arcade cabinet as if you weren’t even there, which pissed you off even more. You groaned loudly, looking at Eddie and pointing harshly at the boys as if there was something he could possibly do about them. He simply shook his head and grabbed your elbow, lightly tugging you along.

“They beat us to it.” He said as if there was some unspoken arcade rule that you weren’t familiar with. You glared at the boys as Eddie led you down the row, grinning as if to calm you down, “Come on, I got something I think you’ll like.”

“Doubtful.” You countered like a child, catching the way Eddie smiled to himself, both amused and enervated by your attitude. The two of you came to a halt in front of something called Tapper, and you glanced up at Eddie, awaiting an explanation.

“This one’s easy,” he started while presenting the cabinet to you, “Just serve drinks.”

“Okay…” You took in the pixelated graphics on the screen, hesitantly holding up a coin as you considered the game.

“Come on, just give it a try.” Eddie urged. You looked at the simple instructions next to the joystick while finally loading the coin into the machine. As the game began, Eddie turned his attention to the next cabinet over.

Eddie was right about this game being easy, at least for the first few rounds, although once you reached the first “game over” screen you groaned with frustration. That didn’t stop you from inserting another coin and trying again, much to Eddie’s amusement. You were getting the hang of this and, although you weren’t ready to admit it, you were coming to even enjoy Tapper.

Eventually, you ran out of coins, so you returned your attention to Eddie, who had been caught up in his own game. You watched him for a few moments before realizing the college boys were no longer at the Donkey Kong cabinet. Although you shouldn’t have cared so much, you nonetheless felt a sudden eagerness to run over and hog the game you previously missed out on. Hell, you didn’t even know what that game was about, but considering your previous snub, you now simply had to play this damn game.

So, you turned your gaze back to Eddie, who was incredibly focused on the shooting game he was in the middle of, “Donkey Kong is open.”

“So, go play.” He responded with a far off tone, clearly caught up in what he was doing.

“I don’t have any coins.”

In an almost silly motion, Eddie nudged his hip in your direction, “I have some in my pocket.”

You looked down towards his hips, wondering why he didn’t simply pull his hand from the game for a moment to give you a few coins.

Impatiently, his eyes flicked over to you for only a moment; he could tell what you were thinking, “Just reach in and grab a few.”

“Uh, no.” Your voice oozed with attitude.

“Then no Donkey Kong.” He replied with a simple shrug. With a slight glare, you looked between his face and the screen, watching his hectic game for a few long moments. Your gaze drifted back towards Donkey Kong with a mild longing, but you quickly righted yourself - you did not care that much about a stupid arcade game. You could wait until Eddie was done, you didn’t need to play it that bad.

The sound of the front door opening drew your attention as a new man entered the arcade, and your first thought was “shit, is he going to play Donkey Kong?” Why the hell did you care so much? But you couldn’t risk missing out on the game again, so you returned your attention back to Eddie, taking him by total surprise as you reached into his pocket and extracted a handful of coins quickly before you could think about how intimate that action was.

“Jesus, warn a guy before you go digging around in his pants.” Eddie chided with a playful grin, not allowing his gaze to stray from the shooter in front of him.

“Shut up.” You countered while marching towards Donkey Kong, determination etched across your face as you relished in the stupid victory of finally being about to play this damn game.

Of course, you very quickly learned why Eddie had told you before that you wouldn’t like Donkey Kong. Your dumb little man in overalls lost all his lives within the first minute of you playing, and you let out an exasperated sigh as you slapped your hand down on the control panel. With a glare, you loaded another coin in, but due to your frustration you died even quicker than you had the first time, letting out another upset sound before you marched away from Donkey Kong as if the game had personally offended you.

Eddie was still focused on Robotron as you returned to his side with a huff, the sound causing the corner of his mouth to pull up. You glared at his face, “That game is stupid.”

“I told you.” He answered simply, amused by how easily you gave up on it.

“Why doesn’t it work?”

“Have you considered that you’re just bad at it?” Eddie’s eyes briefly look at you, that annoying grin of his not faltering for a moment. Your glare darkened as you turned to walk off, but Eddie’s voice stopped you from going anywhere, “Oh, come on, just wait. I’ll show you how to play the stupid monkey game.”

So, you waited impatiently for Eddie’s game to end, your eyes repeatedly drifting over to Donkey Kong as if in fear that someone else would take the machine from you. Once he was finally done with Robotron, Eddie gave you a teasing look, knowing that you were eager to return to the game that you supposedly didn’t like. With an adamant look, you spun around and marched back towards the machine, knowing that he was following right behind you.

“Just watch, I’ll play the first level for you.” Eddie instructed while loading in the money. He craned his neck back and forth, shaking out his arm as if he were warming up for some epic fight; you nearly smiled, but kept it to yourself. You leaned over Eddie’s shoulder a little as he began, “You have to be fast - this machine has a bit of a lag, so you need to think ahead.”

So, you watched Eddie play, annoyed at just how easy he made it look; evidently, he had a fair amount of practice. And with the first level completed in what appeared to be record time, Eddie stepped back, yanking you quickly in front of the screen to take over the controls. Just as quickly as the level started, though, you lost a life, jumping right into the line of a pixelated enemy. A frustrated noise left you, causing Eddie to laugh from behind you.

“You’ve got two more lives,” He stepped up closer to you, reaching around to put his hand over the jump button, “Lemme help.”

Working together, you managed to make a little bit of progress, but you all too quickly lost again, shoving the joystick in the wrong direction. As you huffed in annoyance once more, Eddie placed his free hand on the small of your back as if to remind you to calm down, the touch nearly causing you to jump from its gentleness.

“Okay, new plan.” Eddie stepped behind you, close enough that your back bumped against his chest. Your shoulders stiffened as he settled his hands on top of yours, your heart skipping as you realized you were pinned between him and the stupid Donkey Kong machine. Thank god he was behind you, because otherwise he would’ve seen the way your cheeks went red, the way your eyes widened with surprise.

You could feel Eddie’s breath against your ear, practically causing you to shudder, “Alright, let’s do this.”

As the level started again, you were grateful that Eddie was taking the reins, controlling your hands with his own, because your brain was way too jumbled to think clearly. Why the hell were you so nervous? How was Eddie Munson doing this to you? You were certain it had more to do with your disdain for people touching you, but you were far too confused to even begin to entertain why you felt so anxious with Eddie practically flush against your back.

You were so zoned out that you hadn’t even realized that the level was complete until Eddie stepped back, a victorious little laugh escaping him. Before you had time to even get your head on straight, the third level began, but you all too quickly fumbled, your game coming to a pathetic end. Composing yourself, you meet Eddie’s eyes with total coolness, hoping that the redness of your cheeks had gone away. His expression didn’t seem to indicate that he noticed anything off about you, so you took a deep breath.

“Help me again.” You instructed as you fished a coin from your pocket. Eddie looked mildly surprised by the instruction, as if he too was just realizing how intimate his assistance was the first time. You simply raised a brow at him while loading the machine with money, straightening your shoulders as he came up behind you once again.

You tried to focus on the game this time as Eddie placed his hands on top of yours again, doing your best to ignore how warm he was behind you, the way his cheek brushed against the crown of your head, how his grip on your hands seemed to be a little bit more firm. You took a couple of deep breaths and focused, approaching this the same way you did skating - with attentiveness to the goal. And your goal was to ignore Eddie and actually beat a level of this god damn monkey game.

So, you watched your little man run and jump across the screen studying the timing as Eddie moved your hands with his own, noting the subtle delay between the control command and the character movement on the screen. Even as you began to understand, you still recognized that it wasn’t going to be easy for you to beat as a total novice to gaming. As the first level came to an end, Eddie began to step back, his hands hovering just over yours, but you turned your head quickly, practically bumping foreheads as he stopped pulling away.

“Wait, one more round.” You instructed, his face so close to yours that you practically went cross-eyed trying to meet his gaze. You saw Eddie’s jaw clench slightly before you faced forward again, his hands settling on top of yours once way.

By the time you two completed the second level, you were grinning triumphantly, satisfied that you were winning, even if only because Eddie was helping you. As the screen went black for a brief moment, you glanced at the content expression of Eddie behind you, feeling his chin move against your head as he, too, smiled largely.

Instead of pulling away, Eddie asked simply, “One more?”

You hummed in agreement as the third level started, once more studying Eddie’s timing as he breezed through the game as if he’d played it a hundred times. For all you knew, he probably had. Just like with his guitar, Eddie’s hands moved with expertise, guiding yours with ease as you two once again completed the course on screen. This time, you let Eddie step back, feeling a little nervous as you realized you had to face Donkey Kong alone again. You also felt a very mild wave of disappointment, but you quickly shoved that aside so you could focus on your game.

But, of course, you struggled without Eddie’s assistance, fumbling the jump time and losing a life. You took a deep breath through your nose as you tried to focus, feeling Eddie’s gaze burning into you as the level started over. You tried to ignore the intensity of his stare as you started again, running through the level as fast as you could. You managed to get much farther than before, but you nonetheless made another mistake.

You looked towards Eddie, prepared to ask him for help, but he shut you down before you got a word out, “Oh no, you wanted to play this, remember? I can’t keep playing for you.”

You pouted only for a moment, returning your attention to the screen, trying and failing once more to beat the game. You threw your head back with an annoyed groan, stepping away from Donkey Kong while crossing your arms.

“I don’t see why people play this stupid game, it’s impossible.” You whined, causing Eddie to laugh while rolling his eyes.

“That’s the point - it’s challenging. You can’t be a winner all the time.” He teased while dipping his head down closer to yours, seeing right through your frustrations. To Eddie, it was obvious that you weren’t used to losing, and he loved how worked up you were getting over an arcade game of all things.

“If I’m not going to win, then I don’t want to play.” You countered childishly, your eyebrow raised as if daring him to comment on that. You spun on your heel and began to walk away from the offensive game cabinet, hearing Eddie following behind you.

“That’s part of the fun, ya know.” He started. You half expected him to sling his arm over your shoulders as he normally did, but this time he refrained, as if all that contact during Donkey Kong was just a little too much for one day. You threw him a look.

“Well, it’s not fun for me.” You weren’t sure where the hell you were walking off to considering that there wasn’t anywhere in the Palace to hide, but you were too caught up in simply being stubborn. Eddie laughed, rolling his eyes with a hint of fondness as he lightly snagged your arm and stopped you. You met eyes, Eddie grinning at your attitude that he was quickly becoming accustomed to.

“You say that now, but I guarantee you’ll be asking me to bring you back.” He teased, receiving a small glare from you in response. He shook his head a little, “Let’s go, your pouting is making this no fun.”

You could tell Eddie was just taunting you, so you gave his shoulder a small shove while pulling away from his hold. You wouldn’t dare admit that you actually had some fun, so instead you began for the exit, your tone nonchalant as you responded, “Thank god, if I stay here any longer the nerds might try to convert me.”

Behind you, Eddie shook his head fondly as he followed you out.

.

.

additional a/n: shoutout to Tapper for being my favorite arcade game

taglist: @a-queen-blr @avalon-wolf @costellation-hunter @daisy-munson

@daisyridleyss @damon-loves-pie @damp4eddie @delilaaahhh @eddiernunson

@em0220 @frogtape @fromasgardandback @fckyeahlames @kthomps914

@lotrefcp @love-anonymous-writer @marrowfrog00 @mewchiili @miaajaade

@munsonssweets @no-bueno-writer @rach5ive @sav12321 @sheneedsrocknroll92

@steeldaisies @stormgrl19

[iamyourdailydoseofbi]

( ✧ MY MASTERLIST! ✧ )

[ Will be updated in time, so be sure to check / refresh ] Some will not have links as they are not posted yet.

Want to know where else you can find me? Here.

Tips and tricks for baby writer's. Pt 1 Pt 2 Pt 3 Pt 4 Pt 5 Pt 6 Pt 7 Pt 8 Pt 9 Pt 10

HOUSE OF THE DRAGON.

"The only thing that could tear down the house of the dragon was itself.." [ Mix of HOTD and Modern AU ]

Aegon II Taragaryen - "The Upsurger King"

"Let the ravens fly that the realm may know the pretender is dead, and their true king is coming home to reclaim his father's throne."

The History Book on the Shelf. ( Complete )

Pt 1 Pt 2 Pt 3 Pt 4 Pt 5

Promise not to drop me? Only a fool would drop you. ( Complete )

Pt 1 Pt 2

Wanna wrap my hands around your neck. ( Complete )

Pt 1

Pt 2

Will you pray for me? ( Complete )

Pt 1 Pt 2 Pt 3

Like real people do. ( Complete )

Pt 1 Pt 2 Pt 3

Small council, cherry tarts and dragon dreams.

Pt 1 Pt 2 Pt 3

In the dark of the night.

Run rabbit, run run run.

A glimpse of us.

Oh, who is she?

From my blood, comes your ruin.

The worst guy to share a blunt with.

Money, Money, Money, must be funny in a rich man's world.

Aemond Targaryen - "The One Eyed"

"Do not mourn me, Mother. It was a fair exchange. I may have lost an eye, but I gained a dragon."

The Baratheon Curse. ( Complete )

Pt 1 Pt 2

Small council, cherry tarts and dragon dreams.

Pt 1 Pt 2 Pt 3

A game I couldn't lose.

Don't touch what is mine.

S-I-M-P

Either way what bliss.

I was gone for five fuckin' minutes.

Helaena Targaryen - "The Dragon Dreamer"

"It is our fate, I think, to crave always what is given to another. If one possesses a thing, the other will take it away."

Small council, cherry tarts and dragon dreams.

Pt 1 Pt 2 Pt 3

You have so much to do, and I have nothing ahead of me.

Alicent Hightower - "The Green Queen"

"The city is yours, Princess. But you will not hold it long. The rats play when the cat is gone, but my son Aemond will return with fire and blood.."

I hope the guilt kills you.

Jacaerys Velaryon - "The Lord Strong"

"For my mother, for my family, I will fight till my last breath.."

I don't want to be his Queen, I want to go home.

THE CONQUEROR REBORN. [ A HOTD FANFIC ]

"Twas' a tangled web Roselyn Hightower found herself in. Weaved so intimately with Aegon and Helaena Targaryen."

Chapter / Excerpts.

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8

Book Info.

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10

Edits.

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11

12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21

THE PINK PONY CLUB. [ A HOTD x MODERN AU FANFIC ]

"In every other universe, Roselyn Hightower would find Helaena Targaryen and Aegon Targaryen. And in every other universe, it does not end well for them."

Chapter / Excerpts.

1 2 3 4

Book Info.

1 2 3 4 5

Edits.

1 2 3

DEAD FICS / I WILL NEVER WRITE FOR THESE FANDOM, CHARACTER'S, ETC. AGAIN.

Wednesday [ TV Show ]

Watch my heart burn. ( Complete & Discontinued )

Pt 1 Pt 2

House of the Dragon.

Burn. ( Complete & Discontinued )

Pt 1 Pt 2 Pt 3

By your side. ( Complete & Discontinued )

Pt 1 Pt 2 Pt 3

Six of Crows. [ TV Show ]

When your older. ( Complete & Discontinued )

Pt 1 Pt 2

Haven't I given enough?

Percy Jackson.

I just died in your arms. ( Complete & Discontinued )

Pt 1 Pt 2

Old enough to understand.

Close your eyes.

The Boys.

Doin' Time.

A leap of faith.

The other woman.

The Walking Dead.

5 stages of grief.

The Hobbit.

Never trust a spell.

----

Tell me if you see any errors and I'll fix them asap!

[lovelyhan]

— mirage ⟢

he loves with a passion that bleeds into his actions, never his words. you can see it in how he doesn’t make a sound. how he’s seemingly on the cusp, teetering dangerously across the knife’s edge. you're nothing but a stranger to him and yet he looks at you like you’re the most precious thing in the world.

★ FEATURING; wonwoo x gn!reader

★ WORD COUNT; 3.5k words

★ TAGS; strangers to lovers, lawyer!wonwoo, one night stands, smut

★ WARNINGS; graphic sexual content (MINORS DNI!)

★ NOTES; i've been studying non stop for this exam i gotta take on wednesday and instead of getting some sleep, i reworked another old fic into a svt one HEHE this was a tears of themis fic i wrote almost 3 years ago and couldn't help but imagine wonwoo in artem's place 🧍‍♀️

★ SMUT TAGS; no specifications abt gendered anatomy, soft sex, really vanilla, aftercare

★ TAGLIST; i'll update this when i get on my computer lol

You spot him early into the evening—lights dim and music blaring, but the sight of him is no less blinding, no less enchanting to someone like you.

He looks like a white-collar fellow, shirt buttoned all the way up as he hangs a stuffy-looking coat across one arm. Vigilant eyes, neatly gelled hair, domineering presence—everything about the man screams ‘professional’ and ‘sophisticated’.

But what is an Adonis like him doing in a place like this?

You continue observing from a distance, nursing a drink you sweet-talked a college boy into buying for you. God knows where that guy went off, so you let yourself ogle the gorgeous newcomer a few minutes longer.

He’s no regular—this you’re completely sure of. Even if you didn’t spend as much time as you did in this bar, you can tell from the tension in his shoulders that he isn’t well-acquainted with Seoul's nightlife.

The man takes the laminated menu that the bartender slides over the counter, perusing its contents like he’s ordering at a family restaurant. When he’s made up his mind, you could almost hear how polite he probably sounds while ordering the mildest drink on the list. Sparkling water, maybe.

You don’t waste any time.

Mister tall, dark and handsome becomes considerably wary the moment you slide into the stool next to his—complaining about your ghastly work life out loud. The bartender eases into his role as your wingman seamlessly, much to your amusement. He tells you how his new patron needed a break from the monotone of a nine-to-five biorhythm, too.

“No, it’s not that,” mystery man laughs softly, and God, if sex had a voice, he is most certainly the one behind it. “A friend recommended that I drop by when I have the time.”

“You’re not the type to get plastered alone, though, are you?” A tentative smile worms its way onto your face. “This your first time?”

You half-expect him to deny it, like every stingy salaryman you’ve tried to seduce in the past. But Adonis here seems more honest with himself than most.

“Kind of. And I do have my reasons,” he sighs, dark eyes piercing through yours as he holds out his hand. “I’m Wonwoo. Jeon Wonwoo.”

Wonwoo. Beautiful name befitting of a beautiful man, but thank the gods you aren’t cheesy enough to say that out loud.

You introduce yourself out of courtesy, yet you find yourself quite fond of how the syllables of your name roll across his tongue when he repeats it. There’s nothing even remotely erotic in the way he speaks, but something about this man just pulls you in. Like the polar ends of two magnets, you’re unable to resist the attraction.

The small talk is sparse. You learn he’s an attorney in one of the city’s big-shot law firms, and you tell him about your childhood dream of opening a flower shop in return. He already lives the same cycle of corporate slavery as you do so you doubt he’ll be interested in your trivial work stories.

But…he asks anyway. About your job, your boss, even the work environment. Wonwoo seems like someone who likes to delve into the details—even if you’re no one but a complete stranger he just happened to meet tonight. He’s so catastrophically different from the idiots you settled with for a good time, and you’re afraid he might be setting the bar a little too high. No man looking for someone to warm his bed for the night can be this sincere.

Although, there is one thing that Wonwoo and the unwitting men in this place have in common.

You know the look in his eyes a bit too well. Sadness. Dejection. Resignation?

Who did he lose? A girlfriend? A boyfriend? You have no means of making sure without asking him directly, but you’ve encountered enough heartbroken souls to pick them out of a crowd with ease.

A man as prolific as he is won’t purposely visit a shoddy establishment like this. That’s if he isn’t rearing to forget whatever—or whoever—is weighing on that pretty little head of his.

Wonwoo patiently sips on a glass of bourbon (not sparkling water, thank God) as he listens to you drone about the flowers growing in your balcony. From the looks of it, he doesn’t seem like an ordinary ‘yes man’ either. He even asks for tips on growing aloe vera because he’s heard the natural gel is good for the skin. A handsome hunk that’s polite and gives a damn about skin care? You could marry him on the spot at this point.

“Do you have any favorite flowers?” you wonder.

He considers your words for a moment and you watch the way he traces the rim of his glass with his finger. When Wonwoo meets your gaze, you see it again. That hint of sadness carefully hidden beneath a kind smile.

“Roses,” he murmurs. “As cliché as the preference might sound.”

You shake your head. “Not at all. Roses are big in the market for a reason, but…”

“But?”

“You’re going to think I’m petty if I say it...”

Wonwoo laughs, bringing the glass to his lips as he takes another sip. God, why does he look so unintentionally sexy in everything he does? It’s so unfair…

“I won’t question the expertise of a veteran gardener,” he reassures, and your heart warms at his blatant sincerity. “I take it that you’re not very fond of roses?”

You nod slowly. “Yeah. They’re kind of tricky to take care of. Once, I tried to grow a rosebush but I kept pricking myself on the thorns. Roses are pretty but they hurt.”

“Pretty but they hurt,” Wonwoo repeats the words under his breath. “That’s one way of putting it.”

And then comes the silence.

For a moment, you’re seized by a twinge of panic. The atmosphere suddenly became stale the moment Wonwoo uttered those last words, and you aren’t sure how you should respond. Bartender-wingman is serving someone else on the other side of the counter, so you can’t exactly rely on him for moral support. Oh, God. What if Wonwoo thinks you’re just some pick-me person that makes growing plants a personality trait?

“It’s getting pretty late.”

You startle the moment he speaks again. Wonwoo downs whatever’s left of his drink before flashing you another heart-wrenchingly genuine smile.

“Yeah. The night just passes by when you’re enjoying a conversation,” you laugh. “Do you really have to leave so soon, attorney?”

Wonwoo shakes his head. “No, not really. It’s my day-off tomorrow. How about you? Didn’t you mention you’re from downtown Seoul? That’s a bit far from here.”

You wave away his inquiry. “Nah. I can just take a train back. I’m used to the commute.”

“But you’re under the influence.”

“But I’m not drunk.”

“My apartment is just a few blocks away,” he insists, clearing his throat. “I think it’s safer if you stay the night first. It was raining quite heavily when I got here.”

You stare at him with your lips slightly parted—the gears turning in your head when you finally realize what he was trying to do.

“Jeon Wonwoo,” you say, grinning from ear-to-ear, “are you saying you want me to go home with you?”

His face flushes so badly, even his ears turn red. “Is it working? I mean— I didn’t think I’d really meet anyone worthwhile when I decided to go here, so—?!”

“Good enough for me,” you sigh, getting up from your stool as you link your arm in Wonwoo’s—tugging him along. He sputters a little before fishing out his wallet, and you don’t comment on how he drops a fat wad of cash onto the bar without counting it.

“Are you sure about this?” he asks, unfolding his coat to drape it across your shoulders. “I don’t want to be imposing.”

You scoff when he leads you to the parking lot. True enough, the rain still hasn’t pittered out when you got out of the bar. Maybe taking advantage of his offer isn’t so bad after all.

Grabbing Wonwoo by the front of his shirt, you make him lean down to your level with a smile. He makes a disgruntled noise out of surprise, but doesn’t struggle. You take it as a positive sign. The coat on your shoulders smells like fresh detergent and expensive cologne. You’d be a fool to walk away now.

“Yes, attorney, I’m sure,” you tell him sweetly. “Now why don’t you show me where you plan on growing those aloe vera, hm?”

Spoiler alert: he does not get to show you at all.

Despite how demure he looks, Wonwoo is surprisingly responsive when you jump him the moment the door to his apartment shuts. His lips are sinfully soft, molding his flesh against yours as he pushes his coat off your shoulders, onto the floor.

Though you’re very much liking the feel of his large hands slotting themselves on your hips, there's still a hint of hesitation in his touch. Like he’s unsure whether he wants to carry on with this or not. You pull away with a pout, fingers teasing the buttons on his iron-pressed shirt.

“We can just…hang out if you don’t want to,” you offer.

Wonwoo laughs breathlessly, taking one of your hands in his. You shoot him a weird look before heat starts to creep up your face as he plants a soft kiss on your knuckles.

“What makes you think I don’t?”

His hands travel south again, fitting the swell of your ass in those large palms. You sigh, slotting your lips together again as you jump—wrapping your thighs around his waist before you feel Wonwoo pressing you up against the wall.

Even the way he kisses is enough to drive you over the edge. He doesn’t have the displaced ferocity that most of your old flings thought made make out sessions hotter. You’re not particularly fond of overeager men, and Wonwoo’s pacing is tempered just the way you like it.

He licks into your mouth slowly, sensually, as if he wants you to embed the feel of him tonguing his way in your frazzled brain. You can’t help the moan that reverberates in your throat when he detaches himself from your mouth—taking the time to pepper your neck with little bruises.

But while he’s busy making his mark, your eyes end up focusing on the picture frames Wonwoo hung on the walls of his doorway.

You thread your fingers in his dark hair to distract him as you study each picture. One depicted what you assumed is Wonwoo with his colleagues at the law firm, smiling professionally for the camera. Wonwoo himself looked like a million dollars—tailored suit, unwrinkled shirt, debonair visage. You wouldn’t have mistaken him for anyone else.

But you also notice how his right hand is entwined with someone else’s. A man in a sleek gray blazer, his blond hair falling across cat-like eyes.

He’s present in the other frames, too. The first is a shot of him and Wonwoo sitting on a park bench, the other man sleeping soundly with his head on his shoulder. Wonwoo gazes at him with so much endearment in his eyes, it could only be called love.

There’s another photo with two more men in it. The blond grins brightly with one arm draped around Wonwoo's wide shoulders, while the other attempts to headlock another man whose eyes disappear when he smiles. In the background is someone much shorter than the three—equal parts annoyed and amused by their antics.

“Hey.”

You startle enough to lose your grip around Wonwoo’s legs, and you end up barely balancing yourself on the carpeted floor. Wonwoo laughs, and you shoot him a disgruntled look.

“You’re distracted,” he comments.

Well. Now that the cat’s out of the bag…

“Is he…your boyfriend?” you ask nervously, pointing at the blond in the picture frames. “I’m not committing adultery, am I?”

Wonwoo manages a sad smile, undoing the top buttons of his dress shirt before casting a sidelong glance at the frames mounted on his wall.

“He was about three years ago,” he admits. “But he’s getting married soon. You don’t have to worry about being a third party.”

The house is silent as you observe Wonwoo with keen eyes. It’s been three years, yet the grief in his gaze is still so raw. You’ve been with enough people to know if they’re only doing this with you for a good time, or to forget about someone else.

And you’re more than willing to help him with the latter.

You hook your arms around Wonwoo’s neck before bringing him down for another kiss—one with more fervor, more intensity than you would otherwise offer. He doesn’t reciprocate for a moment, seemingly astonished with your sudden vigor. But in time, he melts against your lips until one after the other, both your clothes start to litter the hall.

His mattress is soft when Wonwoo gently lays you atop the sheets, worshipping every inch of skin you’ve willingly exposed. But after he rises back to meet you in a fleeting kiss, he presses two fingers on your bottom lip. You’re embarrassingly compliant, parting your lips at the same time, inching your thighs apart somewhat subconsciously.

You get his long, dextrous digits nice and wet—tongue swirling around his skin as you cover them in a sheen of saliva. Wonwoo doesn’t say a word, but there’s an uncharacteristic glint in his eyes that you never would’ve associated with him earlier in the evening. A smolder in his usually composed gaze that makes you want to see just how far you can push him.

Wonwoo embraces you with one arm when he slides those spit-slicked fingers along your entrance, preparing you with a delicious stretch that has you keening his name into the cold air of the bedroom. He remains silent still, but you can feel those eyes on you regardless. The heat of his gaze penetrates into your being as his fingers make good work between your legs. When he kisses you again, your lungs feel like they’d been set aflame.

“Wonwoo,” you whisper, lips trembling as he rests his forehead against yours. “Please…”

He chuckles again, soft and reassuring as he lifts your thighs with strong hands, bracketing them across his hips. The cut of his abs from where you can see them look so well-defined, you wonder if he works out regularly. But once he maneuvers around to rid himself of his boxers, your thoughts drift to another impressive segment of his too-perfect-to-be-real body.

The familiar sound of a foil package being torn open snaps you out of your reverie. Wonwoo sighs as he rolls the rubber around his length—face red with lust or embarrassment, you aren’t quite sure. But when he glides the tip of his cock along your swollen entrance, you nearly sob.

“Want you…so bad,” you whimper, grinding down against him. “Wonwoo, please, please—!”

His initial preparation is all for naught, it seems. Because when the beautiful man above you finally buries himself to the hilt, you’re momentarily blinded by the pain of his entrance. You gasp out loud—tears welling in the corners of your eyes. But Wonwoo swallows the noise with an open-mouthed kiss, framing an apology on your lips as he wipes away the tears.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, brushing your hair away from your face. “I got a little excited.”

He stays still inside you, watching you get used to the stretch. The patience is a little endearing, given that you’re accustomed to just getting fucked out of your wits. Wonwoo even takes the time to trace comforting shapes along the skin of your thighs in an attempt to calm you down.

“You can move now,” you tell him shyly, turning your head to avoid his gaze.

Wonwoo nods once, pulling his hips back slowly before easing inside you once more. You sigh, burying your face in your hands as he builds you from the ground up, stoking the flame he started inside you the moment you laid your eyes on him.

“I want to see you.”

You jolt when he pins your hips in place with one hand while seizing your wrist with the other. There’s a crease on his brow, like he’s disappointed with you hiding your face from him. But the look immediately morphs into something more captivating.

Then he makes a particularly rough thrust that coaxes a broken moan from your lips.

His sudden, unrelenting pace continues from then on out. Wonwoo grips your thighs hard, but not enough to leave bruises. His discretion makes your heart flutter, but you can’t quite bask in the sentiment given that his cock is hitting all the spots that make stars dance in the seams of your vision. You clench your walls around his length, desperate to get a reaction out of him, and it works. Wonwoo bites his lip like he doesn’t want to make any forthcoming noises, but you bring him back down again for a kiss before anything else.

“You don’t have to hold back so much,” you murmur. “I can take it.”

Those dark eyes widen with surprise, and you can almost feel his self-control snap.

But contrary to your expectations, Wonwoo doesn’t start fucking you into the mattress like a wild animal. Instead, he hoists your hips even higher, holding your body at an odd angle. You’re about to ask what he’s trying to do, but when he plunges his cock back into your weeping hole, the words evaporate on your tongue.

Deep. He’s so impossibly deep that you fear it’ll take you days to sweat him out. A trail of saliva dribbles on your chin as Wonwoo slowly guides you to the apex of an orgasm. Your toes clench, your fingers tangle themselves in his hair. His name sounds like an incantation on your lips, and you wonder if the gods would let you have this man forever.

But…

He loves with a passion that bleeds into his actions, never his words. You can see it in how he doesn’t make a sound. How he’s seemingly on the cusp, teetering dangerously across the knife’s edge. You’re nothing but a stranger to him and yet he looks at you like you’re the most precious thing in the world.

That man is lucky, you think—to be loved by someone as devastatingly devoted as Jeon Wonwoo.

Wonwoo comes down from his post-coital high a bit later than you do. But regardless, he takes it upon himself to carry you over to the bathroom despite your protests that you can do it yourself.

Even the way he washes the evidence of your sultry affair is equal parts firm and tender. He cleans you up patiently, doing the same for himself before handing you a fluffy white towel from the rack. You blush, noting how the fabric smells exactly like him as you dry yourself.

The two of you climb back into bed thereafter—not bothering with clothes, and instead choosing to bask in the heat of your bodies. It feels nice, pressing yourself against his toned chest, and Wonwoo doesn’t seem to have any complaints to raise either.

You don’t expect any pillow talk, nor does it come. After all, this is just one night. Though you’re curious about that old flame of his, you don’t really want to ruin the nighttime mirage you’ve weaved for yourself.

The rain continues to pour outside his windowpane, but the feel of your bodies slotted together can keep you warm for the night. It’s just you and Wonwoo, legs tangled underneath his expensive sheets.

Nothing more, nothing less.

When morning comes, you’re alone on the queen-sized mattress.

Last night’s rainshower has long passed, and you’re forced to squint at the sunlight filtering through a crack in the blinds. You blink groggily, fumbling around Wonwoo’s room for your clothes. You don’t know where he is, but you’re sure as hell going to see yourself out before he gives you a polite rendition of ‘please get out of my house’.

As softly as you can, you shut the door once you’ve dressed yourself—glancing around in the living room to check if the coast is clear. You remember leaving your bag somewhere on the couches last night, and it should be—

“Hmm? You’re leaving?"

You jolt like a cat thrown into a bathtub at the sound of Wonwoo’s deep voice. When you turn around to meet his gaze, you see him at the entrance to the kitchen. Like you, he’s fully dressed now, albeit in more casual clothes compared to last night’s corporate uniform. But what baffles you the most is the cat-printed apron he tied around his waist. The scent of frying pancake batter fills your senses, and your mouth immediately waters.

“Uhh, I figured you’d want to kick me out first thing in the morning,” you laugh nervously, scratching the back of your neck. “Didn’t want to overstay my welcome and all.”

Wonwoo shoots you a confused look before laughing. “Kick you out? I’m not that terrible a person, you know. Come on, I’ve made breakfast.”

He marches back into the kitchen like you have no say in the matter. Like he actually expects you to follow and join him there. Your jaw drops into a semi-offended scowl…

But you stride after him anyways.

⟢ end notes: if you spot any mistakes, do forgive me. it's 3 am and my brain is mush LOL. and if it wasn't obvi enough, the ex is junhui and the dudes in the photo are the 96z 🫡

[libraryofgage]

The Wish Job (One)

Part of: Steve Deserves Good Parents, Actually

Debbie and Fester Addams One | Two | Three | Four | Five Rick and Evelyn O'Connell One | Two | Three Harley Quinn One | Two1 0th Doctor and Rose One | Two (on the way!) Scooby Gang (there are plans for this one lmao, so plz be patient with me orz) Jedidiah and Octavius (from Night at the Museum) One | Two Queen Clarisse Renaldi One | Two | Three Leverage Crew One (you're here!)

This fic was line jumped! If you'd like to learn more about line jumping (getting to see your favorite fics updated sooner) you can read this post

I had a lot of thoughts for this AU, actually, so I'm really glad it got line jumped so I was forced to put them down into words lol

Steve becomes one of Nana's foster kids, but he spends a majority of this series with the Leverage crew working a job (as the name of this series suggests), and they fill similarly parental role.

As always, if you see any typos, no you didn't ;P

----

After his father's arrest, everything is a blur. Steve can remember flashes, sure, but nothing concrete. Nothing more than two FBI agents in the door of his classroom, the cold steel of interrogation room chairs, an agent's ponytail with split ends, a kind smile but clammy hand on his elbow, the broken A/C of the car when he finally left the FBI office, and the slippery feel of the garbage bag he's given to pack 14 years of a life he'll never see again.

Nothing comes back into focus until he's faced with an older black woman, standing outside a two-story house. The man with a kind smile but clammy hands introduces her, but Steve doesn't actually hear the name.

"You can call me Nana," the woman says, looking at the man like she doesn't know why he's still there when his work is obviously done.

"Well, uh, Steve, feel free to call if you need anything. We'll keep in touch," the man says, nodding before half-running down the walk way.

"Never liked him," Nana says, clicking her tongue. "Too damn squirrely for my tastes. Now, Steve, come inside and we'll go over some ground rules."

Steve follows her mechanically, gripping his trash bag tightly and wondering far too late why he wasn't allowed to pack his own suitcases. The house is a cacophony of noises: feet running across wood floors, a TV blaring from the living room, shouts coming from every direction, a microwave beeping while the oven timer rings, a crash from the next room over that makes Steve wince.

Nana stands in the doorway, takes a deep breath, and then shouts at the top of her lungs, "Y'all had better stop all this racket right the fuck now before I cancel pizza night!"

The house goes silent, and Steve feels his shoulders tense even more. He hates the silence. Silence means anger, and anger means punishment. He clenches his jaw, trying to keep himself small as Nana nods and leads the way into a dining room.

A girl appears in the room shortly after, carrying a mug and a soda. She places the mug in front of Nana and the soda in front of an empty seat, gesturing for Steve to sit. "Welcome. I can take your bag, if you want," she offers, looking at the trash bag with bright eyes.

"Don't make trouble, Breanna," Nana says, dismissing her easily.

Steve watches her leave before sitting. He licks his lips, opens the soda as quietly as he can manage, and waits for Nana to take a sip from her mug before saying, "Thank you for taking me in, ma'am."

"I said to call me Nana, none of that ma'am business unless you're in trouble, and you're not in trouble," she says, waving her hand dismissively. "Now, the rules. No complaining about sharing a room. No TV remote access after seven because that's when my shows start. We all eat dinner together on Wednesday night. You go to school every day unless you're sick, and you tell me when you're feeling sick. You got all that?"

"Yes, m....Nana."

"Good. Now, I know you're used to a fancier living than this, but I expect you to adjust without too much complaint. You still get your own bed, and whatever you brought is yours to keep, but money is tight. We save where we can, and I expect you to help with that. Turn off lights, use less water, unplug things when you're not using them."

Steve nods again, inexplicably feeling a little better as Nana speaks. She's not treating him like a spoiled brat, but she's not coddling him, either. She gets another boy (an older one named Hardison) to give him a tour of the house. He shows Steve the mezzuzahs on each door and the Kaaba directional marker in each room---"We're a multi-denominational household, kid, Nana will get whatever you need if she doesn't have it already," Hardison says, grinning widely at him---and makes sure he knows which spots are good for hiding when he needs a few minutes.

He ends the tour at Steve's new room. It has two bunk-beds, three of the bunks with rumpled sheets and one bottom bunk devoid of sheets altogether. Hardison gives Steve blue sheets, welcomes him, and then leaves Steve to unpack by himself.

It's new, it's unfamiliar, it's terrifying. Steve hopes, despite himself, that it's not a temporary stop.

----

"I don't care! He can't stay!"

"We're already in London, Hardison. We can hardly send him back on a plane by himself."

"Isn't that how he got here in the first place? He's 17, not seven."

Steve moves his gaze from Hardison to Sophie to Eliot, feeling like he's watching a tennis match. He's sandwiched between Nate and Parker, a hand on his shoulder holding him back from trying to defend himself. Not that he's upset about it. Keeping everyone from turning their frustration on him sounds like a great idea.

"Yeah, and how did he get here?" Parker asks, dashing Steve's hopes right as they're forming.

He shifts uncomfortably as everyone looks at him, ducking his head and staring at the floor. A small part of him is frustrated, angrily protesting the familiar move when its usual target has long been absent.

"Hey, give him some room," Hardison says, moving forward to push Nate and Parker back a few steps. He stands at an angle to Steve, leaving him plenty of room to move away if he wants. "Nobody's angry, kid. Well, I'm a little mad, but only because you could be putting yourself in danger. So, how'd you catch up to us?"

Steve wonders for a brief moment about whose wrath he'd rather endure. In the end, he decides Breanna is scarier than Hardison, so he lies. "Nana and I overheard you on the phone with Parker at Hannukah dinner, and then Nana said she gets worried about you sometimes," he says, meeting Hardison's eyes before glancing away. He makes himself small again, but it's on purpose this time, broadcasting shame as he adds, "I still have, um, access to my savings account...from my....from them. Enough for a plane ticket and cab ride, at least."

"Aww, Nana worries about us," Parker says, smiling brightly as she nudges Eliot with her elbow. "That's sweet."

"If it weren't a lie," Sophie says, her lips pursed and her eyebrows raised slightly as she walks closer to Steve. She taps his shoulder, his temple, and his hand. "Lowered head but not as low as before. Shoulders drawn in but tense to hold them there. Fingers twitching just slightly. Impressive, I will admit, but I'm a professional, darling."

Steve sighs and lifts his head, his shoulders relaxing some as he frowns. "You didn't have to call me out on it," he mumbles.

"Breanna got you here, didn't she? Ain't no way you'd lie to protect anyone else."

"She could ruin me, Hardison."

"I can ruin you, too, did you forget about that?"

Steve considers him for a moment before shrugging.

"Well," Nate says, clapping his hands together and pulling everyone's attention to him. "Steve is here now, we might as well use him. Sophie, give him an Italian accent and some suede shoes."

"I can already speak Italian," Steve says, "and I have my own suede shoes to match a Cesare Attolini suit." He feels something like guilt twinge in his stomach when Hardison glances at him. Steve's mother may have forfeited custody of him, but she still sends gifts every now and then. Steve usually sells them, slips the cash into drawers and wallets and couch cushions so they can be discovered by Nana and his foster siblings.

The suit and shoes, though? Steve couldn't bring himself to sell them. If there was one thing he missed about life before Nana's foster home, it was the clothes. It was the way his clothes made him feel like a better version of himself, a version everyone would admire and approve of. So, yeah, he'd kept the clothes and shoes his mother sent him two months ago, and he'd packed them for this trip just because.

He'd glad they seem to be coming in handy.

After processing his words, Nate blinks, a smile growing on his face like he's discovered a treasure he won't be letting go of any time soon.

----

Tag List

Please let me know if you'd like to be tagged!

[aziraphales-library]

Hello and thank you for being a great source of fics! I read a super sweet outsider AU that included Crowley singing Abba songs and I need more! Are there any Abba themed fics you would recommend to us?

Hi! Here are some fics featuring ABBA songs/references, and a couple of Mamma Mia! fics...

The Stars Were Bright, My Dear Boy by not_joeys_secret_account (T)

It’s 1977 and Aziraphale and Crowley go to see Star Wars in the theatre, and, surprisingly, Aziraphale has never heard of ABBA

And Everything Is You by acetonitril (T)

Once a week, Crowley joins the local pub's karaoke night to sing an ABBA song. Aziraphale doesn't know about this. This is the story of Aziraphale finding out. Also, there's a bunch of students who might or might not be involved.

How You Thrill Me by ingafterdark (E)

There were three things Crowley would remember about this movie. The deception-driven chaos, the blastedly delightful musical numbers, and the idle weight of Aziraphale’s hand on Crowley’s thigh, which grew ever-more insistent from about the half-hour mark. Or: The night in the South Downs when a certain Angel debauched a certain Demon as Mamma Mia! played in the background.

I Believe In Angels by Raphaela Crowley (T)

Crowley and Aziraphale travel to a Greek island under false pretenses. Aziraphale's a bit worried about the morality of the situation, while Crowley just wants that blasted ABBA song to not be stuck in his head any more. Sophie S. wonders if the father she's never known is Sam Carmichael or just some guy in sunglasses named Anthony Cowwley.

One Look And You're Hypnotized by quiltedspacemittens (T)

“What are you doing in Greece?” Aziraphale asks, with distanced politeness, as the silence between them stretches a moment too long. Crowley ambles, one step behind him. “’M here on business. Supposed to tempt some poor woman to engineer a decades-long inheritance and property tax evasion scheme. Something about her ex-boyfriends.” “I see. And she’s on Kalokairi?” Kalokairi, Greece, 1977. One moustachioed demon on business, one clean-shaven principality on holiday, and one island in need of a little divine intervention. A Mamma Mia!-themed Tony fic written for Stayin' Julive aka Tony Month. Hypothetically updates every Wednesday in July. Title from "Angeleyes" by ABBA.

dancing queen (guaranteed to blow your mind) by Quilly (T)

Warlock has a secret, and it's that he invited three former staff members from his estranged parents' household to his wedding in the hopes that one of them is the one Nanny is still in love with. Crowley is just wondering what entity he pissed off to make three of his old flames show up the day before his adopted kid's wedding.

Do You Like ABBA? by Matcha_Tea_and_Other_Delights (T)

“I heard there’s going to be a meteor shower tonight.” The boy tells Aunt Lilith. “Oh?” She says in response, still a little unfamiliar with some of the earthly phrases and customs. “Yeah, stars falling from the sky and you get to make a wish, it’s great. Might stay up in my room watching them for a while.” Aunt Lilith looks up at the sky too, this time with an odd sense of woe coloring her features. “Falling stars, huh?” Or: Seven years after the events of Not-mageddon, things start to gear up for the Second Coming: Supreme Archangel Raphael would sound the alarms, a flight is boarded, as a swarm of locusts envelope the Earth. Everything is destroyed, with nothing left standing. The End. …yeah that’s not gonna happen. For starters, Satan is missing. Or or: Like the ones before them, it’s up to an angel and a demon to try and stop the world from ending. Third time’s the charm isn’t it? (Basically, what if Good Omens 3 went like this?)

- Mod D

[nerdieforpedro]

Weekend Update 05/19/2024

Three weeks in a row. I should play the lottery, I might hit for some big money!

Nerdie, please. We think it’s fine that you play the lottery, but have you done much this week?

I will have you know, that I worked three 12 hour shifts in a row, one of which I was the charge nurse. Something I’ve never done before and only had a 4 hour class once. The person that was supposed to be training me was not there so I just did trial by fire. I also worked this weekend. 

Though the highlight of the week was Friday night!

What? You had a hot date? Good for you!

Huh? This is Nerdie you’re talking about, no. Not at all what happened. I got to see Hozier live in a concert! It was wonderful! I might still be singing all the songs, have played them for my coworkers and that one guy whose room I was in for 30 minutes getting him cleaned up and bed changed should know a fair bit of “Almost (Sweet Music)” and “Something New.” I think I also had a brunch with my family this week somewhere in there.

We have so many questions…did that man even know what you were singing? Is he now a fan? How was brunch? How did you even find out about the concert? Why wasn’t that the first thing you said?

Sometimes you gotta bury the lead. Brunch was with mama Nerdie and two of Nerdie’s brothers. I have three total. I’m the only girl. The concert was magical, I’m trying to figure out something for September but it’s likely sold out. I think I really lucked out last Friday. 

Nerdie, do you have anything fanfic related? We’re happy to know you’re doing well. We wonder sometimes, but you know, this is Tumblr.

This week will be a bit different. I did a lot of reading last week but this week, I didn’t read much of anything except beta reading for a couple people. So Nerdie will highlight some series she thinks you should peek at:

Symphony by @maggiemayhemnj (A wonderful series featuring Joel - who is having a moment with his new hair by the way. I did notice, how could one not? Has Joel and a female OFC in post outbreak Jackson.) Fun fact - one of my patients called me symphony so it’s going to be one of my many aliases now.

If Wishes Came True by @schnarfer (A Dieter Bravo trilogy. Our beloved trash panda is many things and has many expressions, some not so great. Can it turn into something worthwhile?)

Headshots by @secretelephanttattoo (Marcus Pike - being the sweet man that he is. The OFC is a photographer. Love blooms. It will give you warm fuzzies and you’ll sniffle. It’s totally fine to do so.)

Bloody Kisses by @perotovar (Shane Morrissey and Tim rockford are the combo I was not aware I needed and now I think about them. The longing, the realization, the understanding, the build up, and the growing pains. Just read it and you’ll get it.)

IRL by @grogusmum (A sweet Javi G fic. You and Javi have been chatting about your shared interest in movies and sparks fly. So much so that you fly to see him in person. How does that go? Read and find out.)

These are five series I’ve read, loved and will read again because I enjoy them. I hope you all do too. 

I believe I did post a Dieter one shot for the Dieter Bravo Brain Rot May challenge about aliens. 

Also @fhatbhabiee back! 💖💖

I was tagged by people for WIP Wednesday through Saturday so I’ll do something from my not titled Pero x Dragon fic (look - it was a thought I had and it morphed into this but it’s dialogue):

Darkness is beginning to take him as is the cold. Pero cannot feel his limbs nor tell if he’s moving them. “Hmmpf, you care nothing of your life? Just to let it slip away like this. You appeared to be a warrior of some sort. Do all human warriors lay on their belly and wait for their final breath? Such a pity.” This voice, such torture before death to be mocked like this, couldn’t he have died in battle?  “I’m already in hell only hearing this voice before I die. Goddammit.” The mercenary laments.  “Are all humans fools like this? Why will you not heed my words? I am not trying to reach you for simple vexation.” “Stop with your flowery words then. Say what you actually need. I’m not going to listen to you the entire time before I leave this earth.”

Pero is the type to curse and argue with demons, angels, monsters and Gods if it means he has the last word. I stand by this. Contrary to what this conversation reads like, Pero does not die. His fate could be worse than death, we’ll have to see. 👀

The Peeps who maybe tagged me? @tinytinymenace @connectioneverywhere @magpiepills @604to647 @djarinmuse

@megamindsecretlair and @for-a-longlongtime There are either people I missed or people who didn't tag me. My bad either way. 🤣

I’ve also been toying with which series between my Marcus therapy series and my sweet Javi P series to start posting on Tumblr. I’m not sure which one. Everyone one’s welcome to ask me questions about any of these WIPs, just know I may not stop talking about them like most fic writers. 

I think I do dialogue well in my fics, and wacky ideas, but I could use work on world building, smut, descriptions and other things. I think. Who knows, I'm just going to keep wiring and we'll see what happens.

Stay safe and hydrated everyone!

Love Nerdie!

[campingwiththecharmings]

WIP Wednesday

i rarely do these (mostly bc i always think about them after wednesday) but i was going through my WIP folder and noticed how much i have written for the next installment of good neighbors so i figured i'd share my favorite part so far, just in case anyone is still interested after getting no update on that fic in 7 months lol 🥲

“I heard you had a visitor today,” you say nonchalantly, as if this is a completely normal conversation to be having in the middle of the night. His brow furrows again, this time in confusion. “A visitor?” You nod in response, your jaw tight. For a moment he just stares at you, waiting for you to elaborate, but then his eyes light in realization.  “Are you talking about Ana?” You avert your gaze to the floor, the sharpness in your chest returning. Then a warm, low chuckle reaches your ears, the sound making your insides melt. God, do you love his laugh. He steps closer, his fingers brushing against the underside of your chin, trying to return your eyes to his; the gentleness of his touch makes your chest ache. “She's just a friend, hermosa,” he explains, his voice low and soft. Unfortunately, his words do nothing to alleviate your concerns. “‘Just a friend’ like me?” you ask, your voice breaking despite the control you’re fighting so hard to maintain over yourself. His eyes soften and a piece of you crumbles inside. You watch as his jaw clenches, his hands moving to cup your cheeks, holding you in place so you can’t look away from him again. “No,” he whispers, shaking his head slightly, “Not like you.”

[nowoyas]

vespertine: evening blooms prologue - nishinoya yuu/cat hybrid!reader

Next - M.list - Ao3

A/N: she's here! housekeeping: right now, I hope to update every other wednesday until I've caught a rhythm with this fic, so we're hoping next update will be 10/9. it may come a week sooner, but shouldn't be any later than that--the next chapter is already written, and the ultimate goal is for this fic to update weekly once I've got a more clear plan set in place for it.

Summary: Yuu feels like he's at a dead-end in his life, despite his many accomplishments ranging from a middle school volleyball award to losing his virginity in high school, the proudest of these being befriending the mother cat in the alleyway beside his apartment. She rewards his friendship by introducing him to the dying hybrid behind the dumpsters.

Warnings: blanket series warnings (see vespertine masterlist for details), implied alcohol abuse, light mentions of blood/hospitals

Words: ~3000

prologue: alley cats

Nishinoya Yuu is on the precipice of a mental break, and no one seems to have noticed.

He's not sure anyone would believe him if he bothered to bring it up. He's Yuu, the bright, unrelenting baby of the Nishinoya family and the single best brother his sisters have ever had. (Unrelated, the only brother they've ever had.) He's that Nishinoya, talents ranging from a middle school "best libero" award (the highlight of his life so far, even though he doesn't really play anymore) to finding the wrong time to be at the wrong place and get blamed for shit he had nothing to do with, all because of his kickass hair and inability to keep to himself. He's Yuta, second most popular host at Nakamoto's and soon to be the first, if he keeps up the good work.

It's funny, really, how easy hosting is. He spent all of high school growing used to a reception anywhere from "total disinterest" to "actively making fun of him" if he dared trying to pursue a girl while being only 159 centimeters tall, and here he is, four nights a week, leaning in with bright eyes and nodding along while some beautiful married woman (Misaki, her name is Misaki) tells him he's so cute over a glass of wine. Yeah, he comes back to the apartment most nights totally exhausted, sleeps until noon, is basically forced to drink for work, and has no idea where he's going in life, but what fun is there in knowing that, anyway?

So he leans in. He smiles. When Misaki or one of his other clients comes in for him, he compliments her hair and asks is that a new dress? and flashes a smile, and on his days off, he does what he can to keep the apartment clean enough that Mei doesn't ask questions and forget the taste of alcohol in his mouth.

"Yuta-kun?" Misaki tilts her head with a pout. "What are you thinking about?"

He blinks. Laughs it off. "Sorry, Misaki-chan. You just look so lovely tonight that I keep getting distracted. I'm really lucky that you choose me, you know?"

"Oh, please," she says, a bubbly laugh leaving her lips. "There isn't anyone else for me. You know, the other day, my husband…"

She launches right into another story. He frowns appropriately, files away the details without really processing them, tops off her glass for her when it starts getting low. He's grown skilled at making the mechanical look fluid.

When he tunes back in, she's talking about that damned hybrid, the one her husband brought home and fell in love with. According to her, the single source of every problem in her life: if not for her, her husband would still be interested in her, but instead, he focuses all his attention on a pretty young thing just because she's got doe eyes and a twitchy tail.

"I mean, we have kids! What, am I supposed to tell them their father's sleeping with a deergirl instead of their mother?" she snaps, then sighs. "I'm sorry. You probably don't want to hear about this."

"No, no, tell me. Is Nara still making trouble?"¹

"You wouldn't believe it." She pauses, takes a dramatic sip of her wine glass. "I'll need another bottle tonight if I'm going to get into the stunt she pulled last night. Any recommendations?"

He flashes another toothy smile, reaches for the menu. "Let's take a look."

The night drags on that way—Misaki for two hours, then another regular, then a new customer who blushes and smiles too sweetly to have ever done anything like this before, who looks at him with hearts in her eyes when she names him her preferred host. It's a victory that feels too, too empty, nearly forgotten by the time he's unlocking the door to his apartment and kicking off his shoes, muttering a quiet tadaima! into the room.

No response comes, not that he expected it. Mei left for another business trip this morning, so it's just him here, and she'd be asleep this late, anyway. No one to talk to when he strips off his suit jacket, or tease him for throwing it on the floor, only to immediately pick it back up and gingerly hang it on the coat rack.

He flicks on the lights in the living room, collapses onto the couch. Mei left a note on the whiteboard, enough words to make his head spin with the last vestiges of alcohol in his system. He'd done good tonight, he thinks, managed to get away with only drinking about two glasses' worth of whatever shit his clients had ordered, managed to come home only a little buzzed.

His alcohol tolerance is basically fucked, he thinks as he stares at the note and doesn't comprehend it.

Right. Focus.

Her handwriting, smooth and font-perfect, fills the board.

Yuu! I had to jet out for another trip! I'll be in Hawaii with a client until 9/22. I wasn't able to take the trash down before I left and trash day's tomorrow, so please run that down so it doesn't start to smell! I'll be 19 hours behind you, but just think of me as 5 hours ahead! Please let Mom + the girls know where I'm at and that I'll bring back souvenirs! I'll call when I've touched down. There's leftovers in the fridge and if you're not gonna cook the chicken tomorrow, you should stick it in the freezer. Be good, okay?

PS. The neighbor in 802 was looking for you. I think he wants to hang out next time you're off work!

He groans. Lets his head drop against the back of the couch.

He'll get to it, all of it, in a minute, once he gets changed out of his work clothes and heats up something to snack on. Gone is his button-down, the silver necklace, the too-nice pants and belt. Before he steps into the shower, his reflection catches his eye, and his stomach turns.

He never recognizes himself after work. The stupid one-day hair dye shit he uses to cover his blond streak is convenient—it lets him walk around on his days off with a certain plausible deniability. Misaki or one of his other clients might recognize his face on its own, but given how much they drink with him, it's doubtful. Still, he covers the blond with black on work nights, runs some product through to make it all… swoopy and dreamy, or whatever, instead of the trademark spikes-and-tuft he wears off the clock. It works well, it washes out easy, and it looks fucking nothing like him.

Nothing like him at all.

"The commission's good," he says out loud. "It's good."

He drops the stupid fucking wristwatch a client gave him into the handmade jewelry dish Mei gave him for his "birthday" earlier this year.² The last work thing weighing him down. It doesn't prevent him from feeling the disconnect when he meets his reflection's eyes.

The commission is good. Good enough that it shouldn't matter how long he has to stand under the running water to wash off the shift, the feeling of the alcohol, the cling of twenty women's perfume on his skin, his clothes, in his hair. It shouldn't matter how his nice, expensive, gift-from-Aya watch feels like a cuff on his wrist by the end of the night, or that he can't skip wearing it even one night for risk of losing a client. It's good.

He doesn't need to worry about affording repairs or maintenance for his bike, can go toe-to-toe with Mei for paying the bills, even with her cushy jetsetting consultant job. His clients bring him gifts and spend money just to spend time with him, and none of them are objectionable-looking in the least. Not that he's ever seen a girl he didn't think was at least a little pretty.

He steps out of the shower, slings a loose towel around his waist. His reflection looks a little better now—still clearly exhausted, but at least he can recognize Yuu looking back at him. He finds basketball shorts, a hoodie. His keys and wallet. Throws a burrito in the microwave, throws his towel on top of the hamper.

While his burrito simultaneously over- and under- cooks, ensuring an ideal 3 AM trash-and-cat-run eating experience, he finds a can of cat food in the pantry and dumps it on a plate. He made good money on commission tonight; Mama Kitty can have some of the top-shelf wet food.

One final pat of his pockets as he kicks into some sandals: wallet so he can open the side door after hours, phone, keys, wrapped burrito. Trash bags in one hand, plate of food for Mama Kitty in the other.

She doesn't greet him right away when he makes it outside. Probably, she's tending the kittens and will be with him soon. He sets down the plate on the stoop, flings the trash bag into the dumpster, takes a seat, and waits. She'll probably come out around the time he burns the ever-loving fuck out of his tongue on his burrito.

It's a balmy night. Quiet, for the city. Quieter in contrast to Nakamura's, to obligate conversation, laughter, serenading women with enough money to afford it, or in contrast still to the roar of his motorcycle carrying him back to the apartment. The trains don't run when he gets off work. More small talk at the end of a shift is the last thing he needs. It's too dark in the alleyway to see whether there's clouds in the peek of sky overhead, but there's definitely the sting of rain amid the smell of garbage. It's just bright enough to see Mama Kitty when she hops up on the stoop beside him with a hoarse nyaugh.

He laughs every time he hears it. She meows like a lifelong smoker, like she pulls eighty hour work weeks at the factory and sleeps ten hours a week, tops. Noya takes another bite of his burrito as she watches him expectantly. "Me too, Mama Kitty, me too. Kittens doing okay?"

Mama Kitty doesn't reply. She's tired, too, at three in the morning, but something feels different tonight; it's in the way she doesn't turn to scarf down the food she's brought, the way she stares him down. Ungrateful, he thinks with a quirk of his lips as she eyes his burrito instead.

"You don't want this, sweetheart. It's somehow the hottest thing I've ever eaten and still frozen in the middle. That food you've got there? It's some fancy American brand. Kaede hand-picked it for you. Said it's good for new mothers. Helps them produce enough milk and rebuild their energy so they can take care of the babies. This cat food will change your life, Mama Kitty. You just gotta eat it instead of my dinner."

Her tail flicks at the air, agitated as she lets out another death rattle of a meow. She's insistent, tail flicking even faster.

He raises a challenging eyebrow. "You're not getting my burrito."

Mama Kitty's eyes focus. Her shoulders drop. Sensing that she's about to pounce, he closes his hand over his burrito protectively, letting his keys rest on his lap.

She lunges, instead, for those keys, and, protective as he was of his shitty 100 yen burrito, he doesn't move quick enough to catch her. He lets out a shout, springing to his feet and narrowly snatching his phone out of the air as it slips out of his pocket with the movement.

"Oi, Mama Kitty! If you don't like the new brand, just say so!" he shouts after her as he chases her further down the alley.

He's never really gone this far down. The one time he tried, Mama Kitty had hissed at him something monstrous, sounding close to a horror movie monster and very visibly prepared to make him find out if he dared fuck around any further. That had been after she had her kittens, so he'd always just assumed that she didn't want him near them. No problem, he just wouldn't go past the dumpsters.

This time, she doesn't hiss, doesn't spit; doesn't turn to him with ears pinned and ratty fur fluffed and perfectly replicate the noise the zombies from one of his shooters make. She drops the keys a few meters ahead of the end of the alley, comes to sit just in front of a lump of something he doesn't recognize. He scarfs down the last of his burrito, proud of how easily he manages to fit half a burrito down his throat without choking, and shoves the trash in his hoodie pocket so he can scoop his keys up.

A noise gives him pause.

It's not one of Mama Kitty's—it's too high and not nearly crunchy enough. It doesn't quite sound like a kitten, either—he's caught the kittens' meows once or twice and they're more like squeaky toys, though they've been growing a bit sweeter lately.

No, this was more like a whimper, like a human whimper, and his blood is tinging cold as he looks for the source.

He stuffs his keys in his pocket with the burrito wrapper. It's dark back here, dark enough that Mama Kitty's all but disappeared except for the white in her tabby coat and the reflection of a distant streetlight off her eyes, so he fumbles for his phone's flashlight.

A chorus of the squeaky meows he'd expected to hear raises in protest as the light shines on them. Later, he'll try to remember back and be sure there was four kittens to report to Kaede, but for now, he's focused on the lump they're curled up with, on not dropping his phone as he takes in the sight.

There's the peek of skin, a tangle of hair. What's not visible, as he tries to make sense of what he's half-convinced is a dead body in the alleyway beside his apartment, is draped in hospital gown blue.

Human. A kid, maybe a teenager.

Then: large ears flicking, almost like Mama Kitty's. One ear torn, though where Mama Kitty's left point is jagged from one fight or another, the lump's ear is torn in a way that looks clean, purposeful. Like someone held it down and just snipped the point off.

Another whimper, or maybe a groan. A tail flicks up, wraps over the human-shaped lump's side.

Not human. Hybrid.

"H-hey," Noya says, clearing his throat. It's coated with cheese—fucking burrito—and that's what he'll tell anyone who might ask why he stammers, why his tone comes out sounding so much like fear when that's not a thing he feels. "Are you—are you alright?"

A flick of the ears greets him, but no other movement. He looks to Mama Kitty, who watches him cautiously. No hostility yet. He crouches, reaches for the hybrid, and when his pinkie brushes one of the kittens, he hears a half-hearted hiss from behind.

Message received.

He swallows thickly. "Alright. Help the hybrid, don't touch the babies. Loud and clear, Mama Kitty."

Nyeeaughh.

A soft huff. He shakes the hybrid's shoulder gently—it doesn't react, except for its tail to flick and drape over his forearm. It shivers under his hand, too violently for the weather.

"Hey, c'mon. You gotta wake up."

No response.

He sets the phone aside, tries his best to sit the hybrid upright without too much force or jostling. The good news is that it's light, concerningly light. Clearly a cat hybrid, which, sure, he thinks he remembers they're supposed to be smaller than your average human, but he'd swear that he's slung around toddlers that were heavier. Makes it easy to lift, even as he wonders whether any hybrid is supposed to be this light.

It's awake, he thinks. It looks at him with bleary eyes, pupils constricting harshly when he raises up the flashlight again. "Hey. Can you hear me?"

No response, except to track his lips with its eyes. It occurs to him, belatedly, that some hybrids never learn to talk, and this one might be one of them.

"Can you, like, blink twice at me if you understand me?"

Two blinks.

He exhales a sigh of relief. "Okay. Alright. I don't know what happened to you, but I'm here to help, okay?"

The hybrid's eyes flick to Mama Kitty, and for a split second, Noya swears she nods back.

The hybrid nods in reply.

"Are you hurt? Can you show me where you're hurt?"

It glances down. Noya follows the eyes to the pricks of red beginning to seep into and stain the hospital blue covering its abdomen, and… well, fuck.

He's gonna have to call Kaede for this one.

Footnotes

1. Nara is a deer hybrid, "adopted" from the Nara prefecture itself. Misaki's husband is not very creative with names.

2. Noya, mostly on Mei's insistence, tells clients his birthday is April 10th, six months before his actual birthday. He maintains it half for privacy (if a client tracks him down they're likely to cause issues for Mei, too) and half because it's sort of nice to have a half-year birthday.

Tags: @deeplightgarden @idonthaveanameideayet @dusstory

[best--dress]

WIP Wednesday

Thank you for tagging me today, @monbons!

I'm still scribbling away on my COBB fic. Last night I spent a few hours updating my playlist and figuring out which scenes I still need to write for chapter 2. Bouncing back and forth between "this is so good" and "literally no one except me wants to read this." Oh, and I squeezed in another Twilight joke.

Tags and a potentially intriguing bit of Penny and Simon under the cut:

“So you and Agatha are…?” I look up from my plate of scones. Penny is peering at me through her cat-eye glasses. She looks a bit like she wishes she hadn’t said anything. “Friends, I reckon,” I say. I pick up a scone. “You’re not – I mean, you’re not – You would’ve told me first – right?” “Pen, I have no idea what you’re on about.” “You’re not – dating?” “Christ! No! What gave you that idea?” “Oh. Well. I didn’t think so.” “Why would you even think that, Penelope?” “Well, Trixie – I know, I know, Si – but Trixie just told me that Philippa Stainton said something to her – and isn’t she Agatha’s roommate? So, I didn’t think – but then, what if Agatha’s roommate knew something I didn’t?” “There’s nothing to know…” “Well, and thank goodness. You and Agatha have no chemistry.” I whack her on the arm and she cracks up.

love ya @mooncello, @iamamythologicalcreature, @facewithoutheart, @thewholelemon, @ileadacharmedlife, @martsonmars, @youarenevertooold, @rimeswithpurple, @that-disabled-princess, @aristocratic-otter, @alexalexinii, @cutestkilla, @you-remind-me-of-the-babe, @artsyunderstudy, @onepintobean, @emeryhall, @arthurkko, @ivelovedhimthroughworse

[punemy-spotted]

WIP Wednesday: GUESS WHAT

It's Wednesday, my students are in the midst of finals, and I get to work from home during a rainstorm. None of these things are related but these things mean things are happening and I'm taking a certain fic off hiatus to update it (hopefully soon, oh my God, please spare me from the Writer's Curse)

Anywaysssss...

She's baaaaaaaaaaackkkkk

If you would like to be tagged in updates, please check out my (new and improved) taglist and sign up! I have also created an archive where just my fics and drabbles will be reblogged (and tagged), over at @punemys-library. It's a little under construction, but we're working on it.

Content Warnings for this Snippet: Gun mention, bullet mention, smoking mention, reference to funerals and gravesites,

Senator Andy Barber’s Chief of Staff keeps a loaded gun in the glove compartment of every car he drives, a force of habit the Senator is probably grateful for right about new, even in absentia. While he pays for the final tank of gas he’ll need to get you both to where you need to go, you open it up and empty the clip, leave the bullets in the cup-holder save for the two you put back. He doesn’t bother questioning the sight of them when he returns, just glances at you briefly and hands you a cup of water, burnt coffee you immediately regret taking a sip of.

You finish it before the car’s back on the highway.

The road ahead is a lonely one, just your car’s headlights there to cut through the snowy gloom, William Russo the only driver half-insane enough to be driving through this particular stretch of the Appalachian trail this late at night with a snowstorm raging all around the both of you.

You never picked up smoking as a habit, really, — too devout then, too late now — but as the suffocating silence settles in alongside the cold in your bones, you can’t help but crave one. Just one, just something to quest the churning anxiety and growing dread in your belly.

You risk a glance to Billy, the pale white of his knuckles deepening as his grip on the wheel shifts, eyes catching yours when he feels the weight of your gaze on him, You getting tired?

Are you?

Exhaustion feels too far away, adrenaline still holding your eyes open, anxious twitches keeping your muscles uncomfortable in the passenger seat, unable to settle down. Even the shake of your head is too cautious to be definitive, watching, waiting. Say nothing.

Not long now, he tells you by way of an attempt at comfort, eyes back on the road, Safe house in a few hours.

Alaska.

Not the state — though you wouldn’t mind, all things considered. The house you pull up to is… nice, if made gloomy in snowy isolation. You almost wonder how a Senator’s newly-hired Chief of Staff even manages to have an isolated “safe house” just on the edge of the US-Canada border, with access to what seemed like a completely unmanned and unlicensed border crossing — and then you decide that question isn’t even top fifty on your list of questions you’ve had about your day.

Days, even. Days full of memories of caskets and graveside services turning into grave danger reminding you why you’re here, pulling up to a wood-and-brick prison rather than your palace of glass and steal.

Domain. Dungeon.

The snow outside is starting to turn into a full-bore blizzard, but the house itself is warm enough to boil your blood, fire crackling in the hearth and Billy handing you a mug of something warm and medically cleared for your consumption, I just got the news — he’s awake, he tells you, taking a seat on the armchair across from you with a glass of whiskey in hand, He’ll want to hear from you, make sure you’re safe.

Safe. The word feels all wrong, especially here. Especially now.

You are not safe, you are not safe, he will find you he will always find you.

[luminouslywriting]

Chapter 2 (Mastermind)-MOTA Fic

A/N: A/N: Hello my lovelies!! Based on my new work schedule, I'm wanting to update this fic twice a week! Sundays and Wednesdays seem like good days for me, so hopefully that's okay with all of you! This chapter delves into a little bit of Ruth and what she's been up to since 1941, so hopefully you'll enjoy that! There's also a nod to something so I'm interested to hear your thoughts on THAT particular thing. It will be a little bit before Rosie shows up, so I hope you all really enjoy this and as always, let me know what you think!

May 1943 

After spending nearly a year and a half in England, Ruth wondered if anything would ever actually become familiar to her.  She kept a careful watch on the sights outside, gaze occasionally trained on the skies for any signs of overhead aircrafts.  One could never be too careful, especially when traveling to an airbase. 

She had spent a good majority of her time in Aldbourne, working with paratroopers and other military personnel.  Court martials certainly kept her busy and when she had the time, she would record information about the war and any reported sort of war crimes—for if the day and time came when this war would be over, Ruth’s careful notations would certainly come in handy.  

The journal in which she had recorded said war crimes and other war happenings resided in her dark bag—which never left her side.  She was nothing if not damn good at her job.  There’s a reason why she was over here. 

It had nothing to do with notions of romance and falling in love, much like her parents were hoping for the woman.  Just before leaving to do training in Virginia with the JAG Corp, Ruth had told her parents that she was writing a soldier over in England and wanted to follow him over there.  She had also told them that she was going to be working with a women’s college and advocating for better education whilst the war was going on. 

Ruth had no such plans to do that. 

Her training in Virginia was kept a careful secret from her family and then she was heading over to Europe.  There was no man that she had met, for he was just a figment of fiction and her imagination—a way to quell her mother’s worries at night.  

Then of course, she had actually met someone and gotten along quite famously with him.  He was a gentleman, someone who actually was a soldier—a natural-born leader, someone with a good heart.  He treated her well.  Her only problem?  She’d sooner convert to Catholicism before she allowed herself to fall in love during this damn war. 

So she had done the only thing that she could think of and before things could get entirely too serious (because they certainly were shaping up to be serious), Ruth had broken things off and asked for a transfer.  She hadn’t ever intended to develop feelings for one Dick Winters and she certainly had no illusions that it was something that would last. After all, they had only met because of an attempted court martial that didn’t end well for his superior officer and things had progressed from there. But Ruth?  Ruth was singularly minded.  

No, she was a focused woman and her one love—besides God of course—was her work.  She could maintain a happy married relationship to her work and her passion for advocating for the Prisoners of War that the Germans had racked up in the past few years since the United States had entered the war. 

Still, that didn’t stop Ruth from feeling a modicum of guilt over breaking up with such a good person for her own selfish reasons.  It really wasn't him though—it was her and the situation at hand.  

It was better than when she had broken things off with a finaceé back during her sophomore year of college—that had been something she thought her mother would never recover from.  Adaline Thorne had been shattered over Ruth’s decision to not marry the nice boy from her law-classes—but her father had been pleased .  He was still holding out hope that there was some way for Robert Rosenthal to be in the running for son-in-law. 

But he hadn’t truthfully been in the running since she was 12 and he was 13 and they had shared their disastrous first kiss that caused them to become enemies in the first place. 

Ruth’s hands brushed over the letter of response that she had received from Winters.  It wasn’t long by any means, but it expressed his sentiments about the entire thing very kindly.  It was more kind than she deserved by far, but such was her luck when it came to men who were entirely too kind about the sort of bitch that she was. 

The arrival to East Anglia was a welcome one.  It was nearly a two hour drive to East Anglia and she had certainly gotten the separation and change of scenery that she had wanted.  This seemed equally rural in comparison, though Aldbourne had more of a village than this particular place offered. 

It was quite a change, going from a mixed base—where paratroopers, soldiers, and all sorts of branches of military resided—to going to Royal Air Force Base Thorpe Abbotts, an airfield for pilots and bombardiers and the likes.  

Upon arrival, she was escorted to Colonel Huglin’s office, where she promptly waited for the man to return from an inspection for fifteen minutes.  Ruth wasn’t a particularly impatient person—she had long since mastered the art of waiting, especially on men.  When the esteemed Colonel finally made his way into the office, he found Ruth taking some notes in her journal. Immediately, she was on her feet and saluting at the man.  

“You must be Lieutenant Sharpe?” He extended a hand to her.

“Yes, Colonel Huglin, sir,” Ruth rose, accepting his hand and giving it a firm shake.  

“Thank you for your patience,” Huglin said, taking a seat and gesturing for her to do the same.  Ruth did so, eyes sharp on the beady man in front of her.  “As you well know, Thorpe Abbotts is in need of a representative.” 

“Yes, sir.  I reviewed the file. You had a private punch a major, I believe?  Bar fight, was it?” Ruth recited the information she had received as though she had long-since memorized it. 

“That’s the case,” Huglin gave a nod.  “If I can be quite frank with you, this airbase is going to be receiving new recruits in less than a month.  Many of these men, despite the wartime conditions, are in need of a good guiding hand of the law.” 

“Sir?” 

“Although this was intended to be a temporary post for someone in the JAG Corp, I am asking you to extend beyond just this month.  I estimate that a member of your Corp with your reputation might just be able to whip these men into shape in a way that the army cannot,” Huglin said, leaning back in his seat. 

“Then I readily accept, sir.” 

“May I ask a question?” 

“Certainly,” Ruth replied quickly. 

“Why ask for a transfer?” Huglin questioned, gaze sharp on the woman.  “I’ve read your file, seen your record.  Unblemished—practically perfect in every way. You were even up for a regional promotion, I hear?” 

Ruth gnawed on her lip for a moment, steadying her hands in her lap.  The no fraternization rule was one that had spread across the various branches of military and it seemed to be the biggest problem for most people—she had attended more court martials on that singular basis alone. 

“If I can speak freely, sir?” 

“I’d much prefer it if you did.” 

“There was someone who was interested in me and I like to be more focused on my job,” Ruth said honestly.  “I didn’t come to Europe to find a man, I came to bring the Nazis to their knees and help the military in whatever capacity they will have me.  That being said, the regional promotion would have only extended contact with this individual and I found it best to be transferred so as not to be a distraction to him or myself.” 

“Wise words,” Huglin mused for a moment.  “And a wise mentality to have in times such as this.” 

“Yes sir,” Ruth gave a tight smile.  

“Then I believe everything is in order,” Huglin said, rising to his feet.  “If you’ll follow me, Lieutenant Sharpe?” She did so without complaint, walking briskly to keep up with his quick pace.  “Seeing as how there aren’t enough members of your Corp here, there was no necessitation for barracks.  That being said, I’m placing you in with the Red Cross.” 

“That will be just fine, sir,” Ruth replied.  “I stayed with the Red Cross during my time in Aldbourne as well.” 

Huglin gave a curt nod—but Ruth figured that he wouldn’t have accepted any less of a response.  He seemed like a hard-ass and someone prickly enough to court martial anyone who stepped a toe out of line.  That was something she could work with—someone who was focused on their job and wanted the men to be the best of the best. 

After all, success in this war depended on these men.  And if that meant Ruth being an enforcer of rules to help men shape up or defend themselves against unfair superior officers, then she would certainly do so.  Her moral compass was a tightly wound strictly north pointing thing, and something that had never led her astray before. 

He led her towards the Red Cross hut, leaving her standing there outside the door.  “Take a bunk.  You’ll have the day to explore and adjust.  Tomorrow, your work begins at 0500 hours.  I have a stack of reports for you to work through,” Huglin stated pointedly. 

“I will see you then, sir.” 

With that, Huglin had disappeared back down the gravel walkway.  Ruth clutched her suitcase tightly in one hand, her journal in the other.  Peering into the room full of cots and bunks, Ruth held in a deep sigh that was building in her throat.  She wasn’t here to make friends with the Red Cross women and had little to no desire to be questioned by anyone. 

It was a good thing it was afternoon and no one was currently in there. 

Ruth carefully made her way inside, choosing a bunk close to the door that was empty and had no sign of anyone’s habitation.  She set her suitcase down underneath the bed and then slipped her journal under the mattress. There was little to no privacy in a place like this anyway and she didn’t need confidential case matters making their way into anyone’s hands, even by mistake. 

Noting the fact that no one was in the bunkhouse, Ruth took a small moment to compose herself and send up a silent prayer of thanks—that the transfer had gone through, that she had arrived in East Anglia safely, and that she would be able to help people just as much here as she had been helping in Aldbourne. 

Being a devout woman of faith wasn’t exactly an easy thing when at every turn, Nazi propaganda and the war was shoving back against her beliefs.  She had managed to keep things quiet so far during her time in Europe—and not a single person was aware of her religious affiliation.  That didn’t make it very easy at times—she tended to pray in the oddest of times in order to keep her peace; in the shower, when she was about to fall asleep, and whenever she had a moment to herself. 

Ruth couldn’t even bring her mother’s necklace onto the continent with her.  She had left that buried in Virginia soil as a sort of protection for herself.  And though there were bibles at any given junction in this war, it was not the same. 

What would her parents say about all of this? 

Taking a moment to pen out a letter to her parents had been part of her plan since the beginning of the morning.  Since she had come over to Europe, Ruth had faithfully written to her family every single week.  She was half-convinced her parents were ready to come and drag her back from Europe themselves, if the crossing wasn’t too difficult like it currently was.  

My dearest family, 

I hope that this letter finds you well and in good health.  Has Sarah recovered from her bout with sickness yet?  I pray that she has.  I have taken a trip to the countryside, in order to help with some more obscure women’s causes.  It is safe here and I am happy.  I am making so many friends—

Ruth paused.  How much lying was too much lying ?  As far as her parents were concerned, she was happily engaged to some soldier who she had been regularly seeing while she was in Aldbourne.  It was a stretched sort of truth, anyway.  But that had been their initial impression of why she was going over to Europe anyway. 

Things with my dear soldier remain happy.  He and I went on the nicest picnic when he had leave this past weekend.  I so enjoyed it and can understand what Alice is saying about marriage.  I can only hope that this war ends soon so that I may be married one day as well. 

Lie, lie, lie—well…she thought that God could forgive that if it meant her helping end the war.  And technically speaking, her and Dick Winters had gone on a picnic the week previous.  In order to break up.  Not that her parents needed to know that.  Because the minute that a man was out of the picture, she was almost certain that they would demand that she come home and take care of them. 

And it wasn’t out of selfishness that she wanted to stay in Europe.  But her calling was not meant to be caring for her ailing parents and younger siblings.  No, Sarah and Alice were much more suited to the domestic lifestyle of being home.  Ruth?  Ruth wanted to work and wanted to be busy at all times of day. 

After she had finished school and was waiting for her appointment in Virginia to go through—it was a whole three weeks—she thought she was going to go absolutely mad .  The homefront was stifling, with talks of love, and marriage, and babies —ugh, it absolutely drove her up the wall.  And she hated the small talk that would ensue about the weather and the sewing and the inevitable complaints about rationing and lead back to gossip about who was seen with who—

No, she much preferred being here . 

Before Ruth could even write another line, the door had burst open and two women had come inside.  The one with curlier hair practically flopped onto her bunk, a dramatic sigh spilling from her throat.  “If I have to give one more donut to a man who gives me the same line as the one before, I think I’ll just die.” 

“Helen!” The other one exclaimed, eyes shooting over to Ruth, sitting in the corner, pen and paper in hand. 

The one known as Helen straightened up, eyes going wide at Ruth.  “Are you new?” 

“Lieutenant Ruth Sharpe.  I’m here with the JAG Corp,” Ruth answered quickly.  “And you two are?” 

Both women seemed to relax at learning her name.  “Helen Brown,” Helen piped up, warmly giving her a smile and extending her hand. 

Ruth warmly shook her hand.  “Pleased to meet you.” 

“And I’m Tatty Spaatz.” 

“That makes you the General’s daughter, correct?” Ruth questioned, shaking Tatty’s hand as well. 

Tatty gave a grin.  “I see you’ve done your homework.  Though you’re JAG Corp, so that makes sense.  Lawyers and such.” 

“Guilty as charged,” Ruth gave a tight smile.  It wasn’t that she couldn’t socialize.  It was that she just didn’t prefer to.  

“We’ve had a few of you JAG-Corp pass through,” Helen drawled curiously.  “They never stay for too long.  How long are you here for?” 

“Indefinitely or until the higher powers of the brass that be call me elsewhere,” Ruth replied. 

“Ooh,” Tatty murmured.  “Huglin’s been waiting for a competent lawyer.  I bet he’s thrilled.  You’ll be busy in no time.” 

“So I’ve been told,” Ruth stated evenly.  “Is there anything you can tell me about the base?  Or the men here?” 

Helen gave a bright and knowing smile.  “Most of them will likely flirt with you—any woman, really.” 

“A lot of them are good.  There’s only a few that are troublemakers,” Tatty added in.  “But I’m sure that Huglin will take advantage of your presence however he can.  And…the fraternizations that go on are usually hush-hush.  If you work on that, you can expect to be isolated from the nurses.  They’re the ones who fraternize the most.” 

“A good thing to note,” Ruth gave a nod.  “Huglin knows?” 

Tatty gave a snort.  “He knows as much as his little parrots will tell him.  But I wouldn’t say anything unless any problems arise.  And if you want to know what problems arise, that means—” 

“Integrating into the social life of the base,” Ruth finished with a nod.  “I figured as much.  Well I thank you for your time.  If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go explore for a bit.  And thank you for the advice, I do appreciate it.” 

[sparkles-rule-4eva]

Welcome to ma blog! 💙 (+ Links Masterpost)

Quick introduction to me -

Name: Sparkles ✨

Gender: female 🩷

Birthday: Oct. 26 🧡

chronic Sonic fanatic 😜💙

✅ What you can expect to find here:

pretty much everything Sonic 🤣

Wholesome Sonic & Tails Wednesday contributions: art, fics, screenshots, etc. 💙💛

random screenshots from something in the franchise accompanied by me happily screeching/ranting about it

Sonamy things 💙🩷 (and occasionally from some of my other ships, like Knuxouge and Tailsmo)

reblogs of Sonic stuff from other people

my fanart

my fics (they're also on AO3, I'll leave links down below)

Sonic Cinematic Universe stuff

Sonic IDW stuff

Sonic Prime stuff

Sonic Boom stuff

(yeah)

CHAOS 😈

❌ What you WON'T find here:

complaints

hate posts

politics

inappropriate anything

(I TRY to avoid reblogging things with swear words, but sometimes the post is too good overall or something so there might be an occasional one. There won't be any in my own original posts, though)

This is my space to have a fun time with moots and the Sonic fandom! 💙

Socials -

Instagram

YouTube

Cara

DeviantArt

AO3

Speaking of art, I will occasionally take ✨ REQUESTS! ✨ I won't officially open commissions till sometime in 2026, but until then, if you want a doodle of something (Sonic related ofc), just drop an ask in the guacamole box! Terms apply, like nothing inappropriate and no weird ships and/or ships I don't support, but in general, y'know. 💙

Links to my fics:

"Toddlers are harder than one would expect" - in which Sonic comes to realize that he's all but adopting this little fox that started following him, even though he barely has a clue what he's doing.

"Sonic Frontiers - Anything for Them" - in which Sonic's absolute dedication and love for his friends — even to the point of death — is explored as he scales the towers on Rhea Island.

"Foxes Go Floof" - in which Tails goes poof and Sonic thinks it's the funniest thing.

"Comfort in a Thunderstorm" - in which Sonic and Tails experience a thunderstorm for the first time and talk about their fears.

"Girl Talk" - in which Sonic and Tails talk about Amy, and Sonic's confusing friendship/relationship with her.

"Sonic's Weird Napping Places" - in which Sonic naps in weird places and his friends find him in said weird places.

"From 'Friends' to 'Parents'" - in which Sonic Wachowski comes to realize that Tom & Maddie are his parents, not just his friends, through the screen-to-text version of two actual scenes plus a new scene or two.

"Sonic Frontiers - Calm After the Storm" - in which Sonic and Tails — both exhausted after the events of Sonic Frontiers — take care of one another.

"Wachowski Family One-shots" - a collection of one-shots centering around the Wachowski family: Tom, Maddie, Knuckles, Sonic, and Tails.

"Healing Hugs" (Sonic Prime) - in which Tails tries to understand what happened with Sonic in the cave, and offers the simple comfort of a hug.

"Brothers' Night" - in which Sonic drags Tails away from his work to have a fun night together with no screens.

"The Darkness Within" (Sonic X) - in which Sonic guiltily reflects on his actions as Dark Sonic, and Tails sits with him, comforting him without knowing what happened.

"Sonic vs. Tails - The Ultimate April Fools Battle" - in which Sonic and Tails spend the entirety of April 1st locked in an all-day prank war.

"Enchanted" - a Sonamy AU, strangers to lovers, slow burn 💙🩷

(will update this as I write more)

"Tom's First (official) Father's Day" - in which Sonic faces the second Father's Day he's faced since getting adopted by the Wachowskis, and is determined to make this one better after last year's awkwardness.

"Fevers Can't Ruin Birthdays" - in which it's Tails's birthday and Sonic tries to give him a perfect day, but comes down with the flu instead. (basically the plot of Frozen Fever lol)

Dats about it! 💥

[illiana-mystery]

WIP Wednesday

I'm back with another one of these. It's been awhile, hasn't it?

I have two WIPs to share since it's been a minute since an update. Those two WIPs being the upcoming Chapter 6 of A Decent Proposal and Chapter 3 (the last chapter) of One Thumb Down.

Hope you enjoy and read to the end for a sneak peek of a brand new fic!

Taglist: @ghnaim24​, @imwithyoutiltheendofthelinebucky​​, @iobsessoverfictionalmen​, @emily-ella-nightshade89​, @writingkitten, @crowtoed, @doodleborg

---

A Decent Proposal

After work, Arnold went straight to his local suit shop, J.R. Henry, to look at their assortment of suits and shirts.

He had been a local customer for years, but only had the budget to shop in their clearance section. Luckily, the shop keep, Wallace Henry, didn't mind one bit.

Mr. Wallace, as he was known, saw Arnold as his regular and he loved having him as such. He was much more polite and patient than his other clientele.

So when Arnold walked through those big mahogany doors, Mr. Wallace was quick to greet him, his measuring tape safely secured in hand per usual.

“Arnold,” the older man cheered before he hugged him. Arnold laughed and hugged him back, with a back tap to boot.

“Hello, Mr. Wallace,” he greeted him.

“Well, hello to you too. Long time no see. I've missed having you in.”

“Sorry, life has just been a little crazy for me lately.”

“Oh, you don't say. What's been troubling you?”

“I was recently diagnosed with general anxiety disorder, so it’s been a bit hard to cope with. I'm trying to work around it or with it…whichever is better for me.”

“Damn, that's tough. Sorry to hear that, Arnold. My Lorraine has anxiety disorder too. It used to cripple her, until she got on that new fangled anxiety medication the doctors are shilling now. Maybe you should try that.”

“Thanks, but I'm trying to handle this with meditation and supplements. I'm not really a big medicine guy.”

“Completely understandable. Just a suggestion. Now, what can I help you with today? Need a new suit for a night on the town with the misses?”

He laughed.

“No, no. Nothing like that. I have a big presentation at work and I want to look nice for our new clients.”

And Alondra…mostly for Alondra, but he didn't need to know that.

“Oh, I see. Who's this new client, if you don't mind me asking?”

“Truly Brands. They’re considering dropping Loware to work with us.”

“Really?! They must be under new management because Ernesto Rivera and Marshall Lowe have been fighting over that account for decades. Marshall made a very lucrative deal with Roman True. Why would Truly Brands want to break from Loware?”

“Because Martin Lowe is nothing like his father and is sinking his father's stock shares and reputation with his ridiculous ideas, one being charging Rowena True, daughter of Roman, more for their lackluster software. Meanwhile, Alondra and the rest of Rivaware have strived to make a better, more innovative and cost effective product for our clientele, which is more than tempting to Rowena who is tired of dealing with Martin and his cronies.”

“I see. I always knew it was a bad idea to let Martin take over Loware. I never liked that bastard,” Mr. Wallace huffed, making Arnold snicker. “I'm not surprised that Alondra put you on the account to impress Rowena then.”

“She actually didn't. I reached out to Rowena with a deal that's hard to refuse. She just needs the rest of the board on board with this deal, hence our presentation tomorrow.”

“Wow, well look at you…taking initiative. I'm sure Alondra and Ernesto are very impressed with you.”

He smirked.

“Well, I haven't been the top seller for the past 10 quarters for nothing,” he bragged.

“Fair enough. Fair enough. Well, follow me. We got some new suits on the sale rack,” he droned on before Arnold stopped him.

“Actually, I wanted to look at the regular racks,” he clarified, making Mr. Wallace turn around, eyes wide. “I got a commission check today and I think getting a new suit would be putting it to good use. After all, my dedication to Rivaware is unmatched.”

And his dedication to Alondra, of course.

“Well, alright big spender,” Mr. Wallace teased. “I got some new suits I think you'd like. Since you got this new look going on. Don't think I didn't notice. You look sharp, Mack.”

“Thank you,” he chirped before he followed the old man to the center of the store.

---

One Thumb Down

“Beto, you should go back and check on Neveah. I can finish up here and close up for you,” Juan suggested, as he observed his manager still solemnly looking out the glass doors.

He had just been standing there, with a glazed look in his eye, while he was nervously biting on his thumb.

It was a nervous tick he had since graduating from thumb sucking, per Mama Millie’s manipulation with hot pepper paste as he got older.

Yes, the taste stung, but he learned that just nibbling on his thumb still did the trick without burning his tongue off.

And it did bring him the same comfort. So that's what he was doing now, as his mind kept racing about you.

“No, no. Juan, it's your day off,” he said, still looking out to the horizon behind the front doors. “I hate that I even had to call you.”

“Beto, it's alright. I don't mind. Nev is a great young lady and you were just looking out for her.”

“I should have never let her do a maintenance request,” he moaned, before accidently biting the tip of skin by his thumbnail.

“Fuck,” he hollered, before he groaned. “God, I'm a mess."

“We do crazy things for the ones we love,” Juan responded. “Beto, I know about your little crush on Nev. I know how much she means to you. She reminds you of Gina, huh?”

Bobby paused, before turning around to face the younger man at the front desk.

“What makes you think that?” he curiously asked.

“I remember how you described Gina,” he replied. “Nev is a lot like her, personality wise. I'm not a religious person, but I do believe that sometimes we are gifted ‘angels’ if we do some good in this world. You're a good man, Beto. Maybe, Nev was sent to you by Gina.”

He softly laughed.

“I am starting to believe that actually, Juan. I learned something new about her today.”

“And what's that?”

“She's a Bjork fan…”

“Like Gina,” Juan finished for him. “Let me guess, her favorite album is Post, right?”

Bobby nodded.

“Hmmm, so I guess our theories align and have some truth to them. Nev has been blessed to you by your wife. I mean I believe it. I know how much she cared about your happiness.”

“She did,” Bobby said with a warm smile. “I miss her so much, but I'm glad to have Nev around now. Gina doesn't seem so far away when she's around.”

“So I suppose that's why you let her do the maintenance request? To spend some more time with her?”

“How did you guess?” he jokingly asked, making Juan laugh.

“You're very obvious, Beto,” he chuckled. “But I'm wondering what you're still doing here? Go back to her place and check on her. I know it's eating at you. I know you didn't want to leave her.”

“It's inappropriate for me to like her,” he huffed.

“She won't be your intern forever, Beto. Don't miss your chance. Because between you and me, I think she likes you too.”

Bobby's eyes lit up when he said that.

“You think so?”

“I see how she looks at you…the way you two interact. You two are in love. You're just too shy to see it.”

He smiled, before scratching the back of his head.

“Thanks, Juan. I needed that little talk. But as long as she's my intern, I'd like to just stay friendly. But we'll see what happens when I'm not her boss anymore. Only time can really tell.”

---

Paulie and Dosie - Sneak Peek

(Author's Note: This fic is a genderbent AU. Also, Dosie is reader and her nickname is pronounced doe-she.)

“But now I wonder, were you a theater kid?”

She laughed.

“Yes, I was. Guilty as charged,” she admitted, before she took her first bite of her burger. “I was not good enough to pursue past high school, but I did enjoy it a lot. How about you? Did the acting bug ever bite you?”

You were about to answer her, when you noticed that some of the mayo on the burger began to drip from her lips to her chin.

You wanted to say something, but before you could, she lowered the burger from her face a little and licked it off with her tongue.

Her very long tongue, to clarify.

You felt a little woozy when you finally noticed that too.

Had her tongue always been that long and you just never noticed?

Because now you really wanted to see what that tongue could do.

“Oh, I'm so sorry,” she softly said, with a devious twinkle in her eyes. “I'm such a messy eater. Did I get all the mayo off?”

“Yep,” you swiftly answered, your heart racing in your chest.

She laughed.

“Oh good,” she replied. “And you were right. This veggie burger is really good. The best I've had in a while.”

“Glad you like it,” you moaned, trying to forget what you just saw so your mind could go back to normal, clean thoughts as she began to eat your melt. “And to answer your question, I did do a few shows, but at my local community theater and I stopped in middle school. It just wasn't for me.”

“I see,” she said, before she took another bite of her burger and licked her lips like so.

You were on edge as you saw her do it again, and then you knew she was purposely trying to tease you.

And man, was she hot while doing so.

“Have you ever seen Rocky Picture Horrow Show?”

“Only like every year! I used to go with my ex-girlfriend. Our local theater in Rochester hosted it every year.”

“Well, I've gone every year since college. I go to this off-Broadway theater to see it and it's amazing. Maybe I can take you this year?”

“I would love that!” she chirped, before you both reached for a fry. You both laughed before Pauline gave it to you.

So you paid it forward and dipped it in ketchup before you gave it to her to eat. She grabbed your hand and moved it forward, twirling her tongue around the fry like it was cherry stem before she pulled it into her mouth.

You were quite impressed by her little trick and she smirked when she noticed your reaction.

“If you like that, you'd love what I can do with a cherry stem,” she seductively bragged, before she whispered, “And a clit.”

You nervously laughed again.

[meetinginsamarra]

The Curious Case of the Casablanca Killer

Deemed a three at best, the case of an invisible burglar in a historic cinema who stole nothing only caught Sherlock’s attention because he was bored. Also, he wanted to do John a favour. In the end, this proved to be a real stroke of luck. Otherwise, Sherlock would have missed an intriguing mystery that quickly ramped up in complexity.

The fic is complete and betaed.

Updates every Wednesday and Sunday.

chapter 4 is up on AO3 !

-----

“And don’t you start ranting about inferior feeble brains or something like that.” Sherlock’s mouth snapped shut in a comical way. “You’ll get my input when I’m able to actually listen to what you’ve found out which is not now. Go and use that frantic energy of yours to do something productive. Make tea and toast!”

Sherlock froze, shellshocked but immediately protested. “Something productive? You can’t be serious, John! I’ve researched the whole night… John? John!”

Just like this, John went into the bathroom, softly but decidedly closing the door and letting a scandalized Sherlock grumble about productivity on the outside. Ten minutes in, John heard the kettle whistling over the shower and knew that – for once – he had outwitted the world’s only consulting detective.

-----

Please tell me if you want to be tagged as well!

 @peageetibbs @jolieblack @iamjustreading @7-percent @peanitbear @blchssd86 @totallysilvergirl

[foxufortunes]

WIP Wednesday - Paint Me

So, there was a lot of Raven!Neil around fandom recently, like we're talking lots about it and suddenly all the fics are updating, so I thought today's WIP Wednesday I'd share something from my take on the Raven!Neil heads to the Foxes au. Although this is less a WIP and more the deleted prologue where I ran with the Andrew and Jeremy met in juvie theories and also went "what do you mean Andrew was the first to reject the Ravens? We didn't even ask Jeremy?" So, it's the Ravens try to recruit Jeremy prologue based on the Kevin trying to recruit Andrew scene from the EC. Also, Kevin and Jeremy, enemies to... whatever Kevin and Jeremy are? I'm here for total asshole teen Jeremy and his character arc to be Captain Sunshine.

“Was that really what we came all this way down here for?” 

It’s amazing Kevin’s fury is heard over all the chaos of the locker room, but he is Kevin Day, seventeen years old and full of bluster and righteous fury, so he will be heard. Nathaniel Wesninski doesn’t exactly blame him. This one – two? – was Kevin’s pick and that display during practice was abysmal. An insult to the game of exy and Kevin’s precious mother Kayleigh. Lazy, cheeky, foul play and more time spent gossiping than actually doing drills. How is this the best high school exy team in California? One of the best in the US? It’s made all the more baffling and infuriating by the fact that Nathaniel has watched them play actual games – it’s nothing like the practice they just saw.

While Nathaniel hangs back with the adoring crowd of St Cecilia’s Nightingales with his king, Riko Moriyama, Kevin has shoved his way to one of the lockers where their potential new Raven is slumped, grinning up at him. A potential Raven. What an insult. There are those chosen to be Ravens, and those not. The Master sent out a contract and you were honoured to sign it and fill out the forms. You did not send the forms back with a neon pink sticky note on top and a cheery NO THANK YOU! scrawled on it. No one said no. No one turned down the Ravens. No one ever had. So, of course, Kevin had stormed across the country from West Virginia to California, and Nathaniel and Riko had followed, to see exactly what the problem was.

The problem, Nathaniel decided within five seconds of being here, is that Jeremy Knox is obnoxious. Ob-Knox-ious, if you will.

“I’m sorry,” Knox says, his grin brilliant and wide as he sways his racquet from hand to hand between his spread, stretched out legs, “but I did tell you I wasn’t interested. You could have saved yourself so much disappointment if you’d listened when I told you that, you know.”

“We came to talk to you about your stupidity,” Kevin snaps. 

Knox blinks at him several times, as if surprised by this. Then he laughs, light and airy. “My stupidity?”

“Yes. Your stupidity is causing me a lot of hassle and I’d appreciate it if you’d see sense sooner rather than later so we can all stop wasting our time.”

Next to Knox, the Nightingales' sophomore goalkeeper reaches over and fans Knox’s face with his gloved hand. “You need a second to recover from that, captain?”

“I do,” Knox laughs, miming fainting back against his locker. “I haven’t felt this shamed since dinner last night.” Kevin opens his mouth to rage at him further but Knox holds up a finger. “A second to recover, Day, weren’t you listening?”

Rumour has it, the Nightingales have a prodigy of a goalkeeper amongst them. According to local legend, the best goalkeeper in high school exy, probably already playing at an NCAA worthy level. Even allowing for exaggerations, that’s a goalkeeper worth the Ravens’ attention. It’s enough that the Master had sent them with a second contract, to get a pre-emptive signature if they find something worth their time. However, St Cecilia's Nightingales have three goalkeepers, two juniors and a sophomore, and all three of them were useless. The sophomore is the one beside Knox, as he had been all practice. A little thing, probably Nathaniel’s size, although wider, with pale blond hair and a freckled face. While the juniors were simply useless, the sophomore goalie had spent most of his practice actually sitting in goal chatting with Knox, letting balls fly past him. Nathaniel has no idea how the coach allowed it.

A metallic slam jolts Nathaniel from his thoughts about the little goalie. Kevin’s hand has slammed to the locker just a fraction of a hair from Knox’s head. The locker room has gone quiet and Riko has straightened up from where he was leaning. Nathaniel knows why, of course. The way Riko looks at Kevin in moments like this isn’t subtle – dark, hooded eyes and his easy smile replaced with something sharper and hungrier. 

Knox turns his head, his smile having disappeared as he considers Kevin’s hand, then turns back to his face. They stare at each other for a moment, before Knox turns to his goalkeeper friend. 

“Do you think he’s flirting with me?”

“I was getting that vibe.” 

Kevin jerks back like he’s been burned. Knox turns back to him with a boyish grin, like he’s got exactly what he wanted out of the interaction. It takes a moment of Kevin grinding his teeth and working his jaw before he recalibrates and launches into another lecture.

“You should be ashamed of the way you played tonight. You are captain of an incredible team, and yet you act like you have time to sit around and gossip rather than perfect your game. I refuse to take you back with us if there’s even a risk that you’re going to play games like you practiced tonight. You have no place on the Ravens’ lineup if you’re not willing to constantly strive to be the best.”

Knox laughs, loud and obnoxious. Beside him, the goalkeeper’s blank face moves ever so slightly, the corners of his lips twitching up and the corners of his eyes crinkling. After a moment of laughter, and Kevin fuming over it, Knox grins up at him and taps his middle finger to his left cheekbone. 

“Then I suppose you have no place on the Ravens’ lineup either.”

Nathaniel’s nails dig into the flesh of his palms. How dare he? To be marked for Riko’s Perfect Court is an honour! Kevin being second to Riko is nothing to be ashamed of. Just like Nathaniel’s 3 is nothing that makes him ashamed. He is the best backliner in the game, but he knows that he can’t compare to Riko or Kevin. Kevin is the best supporting striker, while Riko s a lead striker. If Knox can’t understand that, he doesn’t deserve to wear Raven black. 

He opens his mouth to say as much, only to stop. The words catch in his throat. Suddenly, he understands what’s wrong with this scene. While most of the Nightingales are taking their time changing out, they have put their racquets away and are slowly stripping off their armour and shoes. Knox isn’t, but that could be explained by him talking with Kevin. But, the goalkeeper isn’t changing either.

“You’re going out to play again,” he says dumbly.

Riko and Kevin both jerk to stare at him. It’s the only reason he can think of for Jeremy and his goalkeeper to still be dressed for court, with their racquets and helmets still with them. They’re going back onto court once everyone’s gone.

“We are,” Knox says and stands up. “We’d be out there now, but you’re here taking up time.”

Kevin clenches his jaw, clenched fists shaking. “Why? Why would someone as good as you, with so much potential as you, refuse to live up to what you could really be? You clearly care, so why refuse us.”

“It’s quite simple,” Knox says, meeting Kevin’s eyes. He’s a good handful of inches smaller, but he stares Kevin down like he’s an equal. That will have to be dealt with when they get him to the Nest. “I don’t think I’ll enjoy playing with you.”

Kevin’s entire body goes slack. “What?”

“You wouldn’t enjoy winning?” Riko says.

Knox looks between the three of them, then sighs. “Is that all you think exy is?”

“What else is there?” Nathaniel says.

“How sad,” Knox says softly. Then he looks back at Kevin. “Come play with us. Let’s see if we can find an understanding. Perhaps you can convince me you Ravens are worth my time.”

That they’re worth Knox’s time?! 

They should refuse out of principle. Knox is clearly an arrogant son of a bitch who needs to be knocked down, crushed in the mud and taught his proper place in the world before he can be built back up as Riko and Kevin’s back up. 

“Fifteen minutes,” Kevin says, lifting his chin. “That's all I’ll need to convince you.” He turns and Nathaniel jerks straight. “Nathaniel. You’ll play with us.”

“Yes, Kevin,” Nathaniel says.

Knox smiles and gestures to his goalkeeper. “This is Andrew.”

“He’s unimportant,” Kevin replies, and turns to the Nightingales’ coach. “Can we have your court and borrow some gear, please.”

The coach flinches like she’s been struck, half the locker room does. Kevin ignores that like he hasn’t even picked up on it, but it’s fascinating to Nathaniel. What did Kevin say? He hadn’t even been particularly demanding. The coach arranges for their team to provide equipment while Knox talks quietly with his goalkeeper – Andrew. He doesn’t look at all impressed by whatever Knox is saying to him.

“I’ll buy you milkshakes after,” Knox whispers as Nathaniel changes.

Andrew looks at Knox. “The good stuff. Gelato milkshake. From Gelato Tiger.”

“Fine.”

“Deal.”

Naturally, the coach and team bend over backwards to accommodate them, and within five minutes the four of them are heading out onto the Nightingales’ gold and blue court. It’s one of the best high school courts in California, and regularly hosts other schools in the area that don’t have their own. Naturally, the rest of the Nightingales have come out onto the bleachers to watch.

“Andrew is important,” Knox says as they head onto court, Andrew already peeling off to the home goal. Kevin looks at Knox, who grins back beneath his helmet. “He’s far more important than I am. He’s going to shut you out.”

The arrogance. Some high school goalie who sat around gossiping all practice is going to shut out Kevin Day? Jeremy Knox is not just obnoxious and arrogant, but delusional as well. Do they really want someone like this on the Ravens?

They line up on court and Nathaniel looks over his shoulder at Andrew. He’s twirling his racquet absently. He catches Nathaniel’s eye and rests his racquet across his shoulder with a tilt of his head.

“I'm Nathaniel Wesninski, but I'm sure you know that,” he says, at least attempting to keep the Ravens’ public image. “Can I rely on you to have my back?”

Andrew’s face is hard to see under his helmet, but Nathaniel gets the feeling it’s still terrifyingly blank, as it has been the entire time. “Don’t get in my way.”

Nathaniel frowns at him, then shakes his head and turns back to the two strikers arranging their rules. Apparently all of the Nightingales are insufferable, arrogant pricks who need to learn their place. Kevin slams his racquet butt against the court floor, then sets himself up to come in first.

“Begin.”

He takes off without waiting and Nathaniel grips his racquet tighter, bracing for the coming impact. He trains with Kevin every day. They know each other’s moves easily. It’s what makes it so difficult to go against each other. Knox stays back, in fact he’s walking backwards away from the centre line, watching curiously as Kevin and Nathaniel dance around each other. And then Kevin breaks free and shoots for the goal.

It doesn’t light up.

The crack of Andrew sending the ball back up court rips through Nathaniel’s chest. Knox is running up court to get the ball off of a rebound from the far wall. Kevin is staring at Andrew and Nathaniel quickly whips around to face Knox. He’s fast. This is the player they came here for. Nathaniel presses forward to meet him with a grin splitting his face. Knox is fast and agile, built to dance around the opponents defence rather than take hard impacts. Their sticks slam together and Knox twists to dance around him. Nathaniel lets him take the fist one, wanting to watch him take on Andrew, and again the ball is lazily thrown up court.

Huh. So Andrew is actually probably pretty good. This must be the goalkeeper everyone talks about out here. Someone who can match the Perfect Court despite his young age. Perhaps, even if they can’t get Knox, their trip won’t be entirely wasted.

The game is fast from there. Andrew is an incredible goalkeeper. By the time their fifteen minutes is up, and Riko slams his fist against the plexiglass, it’s not a shutout, but it’s the best Nathaniel has ever seen a high school goalkeeper keep up with Kevin. With Nathaniel's help he’s only let in three goals from Kevin and one from Knox. Nathaniel turns to Riko, whose eyes are bright and fixed on Andrew. He knows. They all know. Andrew is special. Andrew is a Raven. He’s Perfect Court! And he’s so young. A shiver bolts up Nathaniel’s spine imagining what Andrew could become if they could get him to the Nest now, under their guidance, without distraction and given the Master’s training, with Nathaniel and Jean helping him. They have to have him.

“Did you have fun losing?” Kevin says.

Knox pulls off his helmet. He’s sweaty and grinning, and doesn’t seem at all bothered by the loss. “I had fun playing. And I had fun seeing Andrew play at- well, I suppose about seventy per cent.”

“He’s not even…” Nathaniel turns but Andrew is already sweeping from the court. “He wasn’t playing all out?”

“Andrew never goes all out,” Knox says, walking away. “But, playing with him, when he puts any effort in, it’s the most amazing thing. That’s the sort of thing that really makes me enjoy exy the most.”

Riko has stepped in front of Andrew to stop him. When Andrew shoves past, Riko grabs his arm and pulls him around. And everything goes to hell. Andrew shoves him back against the plexiglass and Nathaniel sprints of them, metal flashing between the pair. The coach gets to them first, hands held up in surrender and trying to talk Andrew down. Nathaniel is not so subtle. He’d left his own knife with his clothes when he changed, but he has enough practice getting his way without.

“Back off,” Nathaniel demands, shoving Andrew’s side.

Andrew barely moves. It’s like shoving a brick wall. He turns slowly and just stares back at Nathaniel, blank and cold, then makes a show of releasing Riko’s collar. “Keep your hands to yourself and we don’t have a problem.”

“You have to sign for us,” Riko says.

“Oh,”Knox laughs, jogging after Andrew. “I’ve been forgotten.”

Andrew yawns, exaggerated and loud, and walks away towards the locker room. “You promised me milkshake, captain.”

“My poor wallet,” he sighs.

“You can handle it, rich boy.”

[nerdieforpedro]

Weekend Update 02/11/2024

Nerdie! It's the middle of the month, how are you?

Good. Nothing to complain about. Mainly relaxed and then worked Thursday and Friday. My orientee made me laugh.

Oh? How so?

She said that now that she's had some different preceptors she enjoys my balances of being a bit hands off since I know she's experienced, but still checking in during the shift to see how things are going. (Puffs out chest and also wonders if that's a good or bad thing.)

I mean, if she said it's fine, it should be fine right? Now did you do anything writing this week?

I did a bit. Not as much as I normally do. I'm gearing up for projects I have either agreed to or planned for myself.

My two fics are quite different. One was silly and sweet and the other was filth. Nerdie in a nutshell really:

Is it for the wallet of the shoebox? (Tim Rockford x plus size female reader) Tim being silly in a bookstore leads to a serious conversation and a partial photoshoot at home. Comedy and domestic fluff with slight spice.

One Pass for the both of Us (Lucian Flores x female reader x Benny Miller) You and your boyfriend Lucian have the same hall pass. All smut with sweatpants and gold chains.

Working on two things I promised people. One requested fluff and the other action and smut.

I decided to start a new series (because clearly I don't have enough - Dieter, Frankie and Tim give Nerdie a death glare) 👀 because this Pedro character was in my WIPs way before the three of you! Might even help me brainstorm…

Two Hearts by the Ocean will feature Javier Gutierrez x Abigail (plus size OFC). The vibe is sweet summer romance. Mainly fluff every Wednesday, not sure how many parts, at least five. Let me know if you'd like to be tagged for it. I have a few people in mind but if you'd like to be added, let me know. 😆

Roc & Doc and Weddings 101 with Dieter are still ongoing, no worries. Tim and Dieter have calmed. Frankie is a bit pissed still but you have the longest masterlist Fish! You don’t care…well. Okay. 🫡

I might be trying to figure out how to write Ezra. I love reading fics with the man, but his speech patterns have so many nuances to it. I've been studying @morallyinept aka Jett's Pedro Pascal Character Database that she's been compiling and her entry on Ezra from Prospect has been invaluable. It's an excellent reference for Pedro character fic writers or if you just wanna know more. She also has one specifically on Ezra’s speech patterns that I swear I’ve read at least four times.

It's me, I'm the problem. 😭 I’m either overthinking or not focusing on the right parts. Ugh…

Fics I read this week: ( I took time off work and had plenty of time to read - still didn't get to everything. 🥸)

Movie Night by @munsonownsmyass (Zach Ellison x reader)

No game at all (but I can do this) by @for-a-longlongtime (Marcus Pike x Tim Rockford - Frankie Morales floating in thots)

Wouldn't It Be Nice - Chapter one by @lady-pug (Agent Whiskey x female reader)

02 x birds - Frankie Morales x reader by @trulybetty

Mon Amour by @saturn-rings-writes (Jake Lockley x black female reader)

The Stars by @youvebeenlivingfictional (Poe Dameron x reader)

Mutual by @morallyinept (Ezra x female reader)

Dinner Party by @lavendertales (Steven Grant x fem reader)

The Mercenary and the Whore by @absurdthirst and @storiesofthefandomlovers

Comedy of Errors (MK Spring Bingo #3) by @soft-girl-musings (Steven Grant x GN reader)

03 x snowfall - Marcus Pike x reader by @trulybetty

Ambrosial by @spacecowboyhotch (Din Djarin x fem. black reader)

Half of you - part 1 and part 2 by @foxilayde (Santiago Garcia x female reader)

God Speed by @magpiepills (Tim Rockford x female reader)

Not for nothing @magpiepills (Ezra x female reader)

Perfect Fit by @lowlights (Frankie Morales x plus size reader)

To the Flame - chapter 5 by @pedroshotwifey (Dark Javier Peña x female reader)

Come back to me by @reallyrallyauthor (Poe Dameron x female reader)

If you’re not looking at @immarocketman ‘s art, then I feel sad for you. It’s beautiful 🤗 They put out a sketch of Din/Cobb this week that’s apparently going to have a fanfic written about it by @theywhowriteandknowthings

There was also an excellent head cannon about Sarah’s younger years by @clickergossip that resonated with me on Black girlhood. ☺️

That's about it until next week! 🥰

Stay hydrated and safe!

Love Nerdie 💜