#oh the misery everyone is her enemy
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sugaryspeed · 1 year ago
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“HO-HO-HO!”
You thought you were going to have a nice, quiet holiday, didn’t you, Pizzelle? Well, here he is, your one and only rival, making his grand return to your inbox (very much alive this time) — the one and only PIZZANO THE PAISANO™!
But��� wait, is that Pizzano? Hmm. He certainly sounds like Pizzano, but the jolly man who just crashed down your chimney is wearing a red coat, a red hat, has a big white beard, and he’s toting a giant sack over his shoulder. But a description like that sounds more like —
Is that Santa? That is Santa!
Hold on. Brief moment of silence here, as good ol’ Saint Nick waits for the studio audience to stop applauding.
“PIZZELLE!” he says, drawing two presents out from the sack. One is quite a bit larger than the other. “There you are! Have a MEEEEERRY CHRISTMAS! YA-HA— I mean, HO-HO-HO!”
And there he goes, somehow rolling his way back up the chimney. That’s the magic of Santa Claus, for you! Surely he had other presents to deliver, that must've been why he was in such a rush. Now, let’s see what you got…
Present number one, the larger one, holds several expensive-looking gift baskets of sweets. You name it, it’s there: chocolate-coated fruits, cookies, candies, packages for hot cocoa, and more. That’s enough sugar to hold you over ’til next year! Wow, you must’ve made Santa’s nice list!
Present number two holds a confetti bomb and a spring-loaded boxing glove.
Pizzelle visibly flinches at the familiar voice as she jerks upright from her rocking chair, almost losing her book. She immediately places it behind her, open and facing down to keep her place, before lifting two fists curled tight.
"What the HELL! IS WRONG WITH YOU--" God dammit the applause hallucination is back again. Clearly, this baker and confectioner needs to see a therapist. Or a doctor. Or someone.
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"Yoooouuu. Gotta lotta nerve. Barging in here. THROUGH my CHIMNEY. Which I DON'T EVEN HAVE! DID YOU JUST BLOW A HOLE IN MY ROOF?!" He's already putting the presents down and making his escape. "GET BACK HERE. I'M GONNA POUND YOU BLACK 'N BLUE, TIS THE FUCKIN' SEASON!!!"
Aaand Pizzano's gone. Er. Santa Claus. Yeah. That was him alright. Nobody else.
Unfortunately for Pizzelle, she... prefers smaller gifts. So once she quits stomping around her living room and prepares to defuse whatever bomb has been placed within the box,
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Happy holidays. She now has a black eye, a broken roof, and even more debt to pay off! ... Hooray?
Hey. Hey Pizzelle. Get up.
(+1 concussion.)
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suhkusa · 6 months ago
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THE KISS BET.
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PAIRING. Bakugou Katsuki x f!Reader
SUMMARY. Your friends bet you to kiss Katsuki Bakugou. Fortunately for you, they’re offering you $500 for it. Unfortunately for you, the two of you absolutely hate each other.
CW. third year, angst to fluff, light hurt/comfort, enemies to lovers, mature humor, feelings, language
WC. ~2.8k
A/N. enjoy :3
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You and your group of friends had a running gig. Bets. 
The group would bet one person to do something, on a scale from normal to outrageous, and that person’s turn wouldn’t end until they complete that bet. Of course, depending on how crazy the bet is, everyone would put in some amount of money. 
The most you’d gotten was $100 total from accepting a date from creep in the business class. Worst date of your life, but Jirou felt bad so she gave you an extra $50. 
As the lot of you gather around the campfire, everyone offers up their money to Mina who had just done her bet to put laxatives in Kirishima’s drink. There were a lot of questions about the morality of it, but you ignored it and gave her a crisp $20. 
“Y/N~ it’s your turn!” Ochako gleed. 
You roll your eyes, “I feel like I just did my other bet, which by the way was shit,” the girls laugh at your words. “I feel like all of you get the easier ones,”
“Easy? I had to kiss Monoma, do you know how hard that was? He knows I’m lesbian so imagine how hard that was for me to convince him,” Yaoyorozu sighs with a palm to her face.
“Oh, whatever,” Mina says with a clap of her hands, “You want a hard one, Y/N?”
“I mean that’s the whole point of paying each other to do bets, they’re supposed to be hard,” 
“Be careful what you wish for,” Mina smirks before standing up and pointing at you. 
“I bet you $100,” your ears perk up.
“-to kiss–,” your eyes widen but listen nonetheless.
“Katsuki Bakugou,” your world falls apart.
“Mina, no,” 
“Y/N, yes,” she jumps up and down, “It’s too late, I already said it,”
All the other girls are hooting and hollering, but you just sit there in silence as you stare at the flames. Are you really going to try this?
As you consider your options the other girls start placing their bet offerings.
“$75 from me,” Tsuyu calls out.
Then from Hagakure, “$50,”
“$150,” from none other than Yaoyorozu. 
“I guess I’ll put in $80,” Jirou smiles at your misery.
“Hmm, I’ll even it out with $45, so $500 flat for you, Y/N,” Ochako smiles.
$500?!? You’d be outright stupid to deny such a big amount of money. But you’d even stupider to think Katsuki Bakugou would kiss you of all people. 
“I think that’s impossible,” you whine as the other girls poke fun at you.
“I guess only time will tell,” Mina grabs your hands and smiles, “Good luck, Y/N,”
You can hear the rambunctiousness of your class before you walk in. When you walk through the doors, your eyes scan the class before your eyes lock in on Katsuki Bakugou. You groan with a roll of your eyes before stomping your way towards him. 
“Hey, Katsuki,” you stare down at him, “You want to do me a favor,”
“For you? I rather eat shit,” he grumbles as he meets your gaze.
“You’re a freak,” you already knew this was going to be hard, “Please,”
“Mm, depends, what’s in it for me?” 
“I guess you’ll find out,” you say. “Kiss me,”
It feels like the class goes silent as the two of you continue to just stare at each other. He opens his mouth then closes it. 
“You– The fuck?” His eyes are scattering as the words continue to process through his mind, “What a weirdo, hell no,” then he’s pushing himself out of his seat and making his way to the door.
“You know class starts in 5 minutes right?” you call to him.
“Fuck off,” he grunts as he shuts the door behind him.
Yep, definitely hard. 
The next time you bother Bakugou for a kiss is when the two of you are paired up for combat training. Much against his will. 
“Katsuki~” you call out as you dodge another blow from him. “You can’t avoid me forever,”
“Yes-” another explosion, “I can,”
You go on the offense as you continue, “Just a peck, please. I’m a good kisser, I promise,” 
“You’re shit,” he’s grumbling between dodges of your attacks.
“Wouldn’t you like to know,” you send him a wink before getting a hit on him. 
Bakugou groans, about to send another remark, when the training ends with a blow of a whistle.
The two of you meet eyes one last time, “Think it over, kay?” you smile before walking away.
Knock, knock. 
You stand at Bakugou’s door.
“Go away, perv,”
“Aw, how did you know it was me? You missed me?”
“I can just tell by the stench,” 
You laugh a little at his words, “Please, let me explain to you and maybe you’ll reconsider,” 
You can hear footsteps, and you smile. When he opens the door he’s adorned in his classic black tank and some sweats.
“You should put some clothes on, perv,” you mock. “Anyways, it was a bet from my friends and there’s $500 on the line, so if you would just–”
“I don’t kiss just anyone, princess,” the nickname causes you to fluster, but you shake it off as he continues, “You gotta earn it,”
He’s got a stupid smirk on his face, and you didn’t even realize it but he’s definitely leaning closer to you. It’s sending butterflies– well maybe more like moths– into your stomach. 
“What the– You’re definitely the pervert. I’m just going to ask to call it off,” you fake gag, “Later, loser,” 
“You’ll be back, nerd,”
You internally groan as you hear him shut the door, ignoring the intense heartbeat in your chest.
“No,” Mina says.
“What?! I told you it’s impossible,” you argue, all of your friends on the other side of the argument. 
“No it’s not, he said you had to earn it right?” Mina retorts, “So obviously there’s a way, you’re just stubborn,”
“You’re really not asking me to… You guys are crazy. Please, please, I’ll take anyone else, anything else,” 
“Sorry, Y/N, it’s the rules,” Tsuyu looks at you with pity.
“He hates me and I hate him! That’s all there is to it. It’s not going to happen,”
“Why do you guys even hate each other? It’s our third year, get over it already,” Jirou teases. 
“Because he’s a dick and I refuse to let him walk all over me! I just cursed him out one time for calling me weak. He’s the one who holds grudges because of his fragile, little heart,” 
“You should’ve known he’d hold that against you, but I honestly doubt he hates you because of that,” Mina says. “He probably thought you looked hot,” she laughs.
Heat rushes to the tips of your eyes, “Whatever, all of you are weirdos. But anyways-”
“No, Y/N,” Mina states, end of subject.
“You all just want me to kill myself,” you groan as you sink into the couch. “Whatever, but I’m going to force all of you to double your offering if I actually do this shit,”
The girls cheer. You cry inside. Anything for money, you guess.
It seems like the universe heard about the predicament you were in, because it felt like you were suddenly around him more often ever since the bet had been set.
“You know, I don’t want to be on patrol with you either,” you grumble, kicking at rocks as the two of you walk up and down the roads of the dorms.
“Glad we agree,”
Silence washes over you both. 
“Why don’t you want to kiss me? Am I ugly or something?” you ask, but it definitely comes off sadder than you intend.
“Don’t get all insecure because you don’t get a stupid kiss,” he looks the opposite direction of yours, “You know damn well you’re not ugly, so don’t piss me off,” 
He had a strange way of saying stuff.
“Aw, you love me, don’t you?” you tease, poking at his arm.
“Ah you dumbass, pay attention,” you snap back into place with a laugh, “‘M just saying you’re better looking than some of these extras,” 
You don’t know what to say in response to his words. Because they were surprisingly very sweet. 
Realizing he had said too much, he changes the subject. “Let’s go this way,”
You follow him with a nod.
There was definitely a certain type of tension lingering that the two of you walked in near silence for the rest of the patrol. 
You definitely were not repeating back his words in your head over and over again for the rest of the patrol. And Katsuki Bakugou was definitely not turning red because of what he said earlier. Definitely not. 
After that patrol, things seemed to sort of shift between the two of you. And to say it was scary was an understatement. 
Conversations wouldn’t always start off with the two of you insulting or cursing each other out. There’d be a hey or hello. If you guys saw each other in passing, he’d greet you with a nod of his head. Him being anything but passive aggressive towards you was terrifying because it was so not him. 
“Y/N,” a familiar voice calls out to you, you groan as you put your pencil down.
“I’m studying, what do you want, Katsuki?” 
“Come with me to the movies after school today,” it’s not really a question, more like a command. 
You put your hands to your mouth in fake(?) excitement, “You’re asking me on a date?! So kind, Katsuki,” 
“It’s not a date, idiot. I’m going with Ei and Denki later, they’re bringing Jirou and Mina. They were teasing me for not bringing anyone, so come,”
“If I don’t?” you muse.
“Be there or be square, nerd,” he doesn’t take your bait, but you can tell he’d prefer it if you go. He walks away before you can respond. 
Well, you guess you have plans later.
;;;
You meet up with the lot of them at the allotted time. The group walks together, and you thank God your friends have a questionable taste in men so you wouldn’t be stuck with some randos. But you also have half a mind to curse them out for leaving you to fend for yourself when you all arrive at the theater. 
They left you with no choice but to sit with Bakugou. Part of you really hates it, but not as much as you hate the rate at which your heart beats. 
For the most part, the two of you just sit there in awkwardness. The other couples indulge in that lovey dovey shit, and it makes you feel out of place. You zone out and get into your head. Was there a motive in asking you to come out here? He could’ve invited like… Midoriya… or Ochako… Or anyone, really. But, you? Does he like you? Or were you his last option to invite? Your head hurts from overthinking.
Your hand rests in your lap, picking at the material of your pants. At least that’s what it was doing. Until it happened. 
From the corner of your eye, you watch as Bakugou slid his hand into yours. His fingers finding a comfortable place between your own. You release a deep breath when you realize you were holding your breath. Is he out of his fucking mind?
Despite your efforts to try and justify how much you absolutely hate it. You didn’t even try to stop him. You didn’t pull away. You didn’t let his hand go. And even as the movie ended, you actually felt sad when he slid his hand away. 
The cool air of the night shocked you a bit when all of you made it outside. 
“We were thinking of grabbing a bite, did you guys want to come?” Mina exclaims. 
“Ooh, that sounds good, are you down, Jirou?”
“Sure, and you guys?” they all look at you.
“I- I have a stomach ache… Butter fucks with my stomach really bad,” the excuse is kind of weak, but still holds up as they all nod in understanding. 
“I can walk you to the dorm,” Bakugou offers, and you don’t really give him a yes or no, he just follows you.
Kirishima and Mina whistle and holler as the two of you part ways with the rest of them. 
Part of you regrets making up some stupid lie to go home. Because this was way more awkward than getting free pizza. 
The two of you are right by each other as you walk in silence towards the dorm. You wait. And wait. Wait for him to bring it up. Why did he do that? Why did he grab your hand? Was it all a front?
Why is he treating you so well?
Even as he drops you off at your room, he says nothing. Just a simple “Goodnight,” before he’s making his way to the elevator.
What an asshole.
So you take the initiative. The initiative in ignoring him. You weren’t some casual fling. Fuck the bet, fuck him.
When you saw him making his way towards you, you were quick to get up and rush out of the classroom. When he nodded your directions in passing, it was easy to just walk past and not acknowledge him. Whatever there was between you and him, was gone. Whatever “it” was, exactly. 
But you were okay. You guess. You were down $500 or $1000, but whatever. That game was bullshit anyways. You always got the worst bets. You kind of felt bad that you were the end of it, though. 
It was easy to avoid him. That’s what you thought. At least until one week later, you found yourself cornered by your dorm room with nowhere to go.
“What the fuck is up with you?” he’s angry, you’d be stupid if you thought otherwise.
You cross your arms and avoid his intense gaze, “Whatever do you mean?” 
He’s getting closer, and a tiny, like miniscule, part of you finds angry-him hot. “You know what the hell I mean, you’ve been avoiding me,” 
“Nuh uh,” you retort, still avoiding the subject at hand. “I’ve just been busy, sorry,”
“Like hell, Racoon Eyes said you’ve been in your dorm room everyday, so try again, asshat,”
Fucking Mina.
“I don’t have to explain myself to you,” you poke at his chest, “Now get out of my way before I beat your ass,”
“Yeah? I’d like to see you try,” he’s smiling with mockery.
“Oh, I’m sure you’d like to be touched by me, you little virgin,” you inspect your nails in nonchalance, “Too bad, so sad, now move,”
“No, not until you answer me,” he’s a bit more serious now, you can sense it in his tone. 
You groan, “Fine, not until you answer me, though. Why the fuck did you hold my hand and act like it didn’t happen? Am I like a joke to you?”
He straightens up and his eyes widen. He looks to the side, then back at you.
“You’re fuckin’ smart, why don’t you take a guess?”
“You’re not a baby, why don’t you use your words?” 
You got him there.
“Maybe ‘cuz I like you, or something, idiot,”
You laugh. Laugh. Because he really thought you’d believe a stupid joke like that.
“You’re funny, but seriously, why did–”
A kiss. Katsuki Bakugou has always been known for his speed and his wit. But now you see it more than ever. As he steals a kiss from you. It happens faster than you’re able to even realize you’re leaning into it. 
When the two of you part, it’s tense again. You don’t know if you should say something but he takes that choice from you.
“You think that was funny?” he asks.
“Well- no, but–”
“No buts, that’s that,”
“I didn’t even say I like you back! What if I didn’t-”
“Oh, so you do?” you jump up in realization you fumbled your words. “Good to know, princess,”
“Ugh, you’re so annoying. How was I supposed to know you liked me? You’re such an asshole, you know?”
“Really? Because this asshole just got you some cash,” he laughs referring to the bet, “But y’know, I don’t let just anyone call me Katsuki,”
You grit your teeth before throwing a punch at his arm, “Annoying! Annoying, so annoying,” 
Another hearty laugh escapes from his lips as he pulls you into a hug. You didn’t even know Bakugou gave hugs. But you don’t mind it. 
“You’re such a pervert, I bet you’ve been looking forward to that kiss,” he teases.
“Yeah? Well you’re a pervert for even kissing me in the first place,”
YOU: pay up bitches
YOU: i’m talking double btw
[164 new notifications]
You were rich and in love. What more could you ask for?
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© all writings belongs to suhkusa 2024. do not repost or change.
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shinig6mis · 21 days ago
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you are awful at video games.
you know this. tomura knows this. the entire internet probably knows this by now, considering you’ve spent countless nights on his stream getting absolutely obliterated in every match, no matter how much he tries to coach you. and he does try, though half the time it’s through gritted teeth and muttered insults, hands twitching as if resisting the urge to just snatch the controller away from you and do it himself.
but you’re having fun, and that’s all that matters, right?
wrong.
tonight, you're sitting cross-legged on his gaming chair, wearing one of his oversized hoodies (because he said it was cold and refused to turn the heater on). tomura is beside you, sprawled on his bed, hoodie pulled up over his head as he watches you struggle through a level you should've cleared twenty minutes ago.
his stream chat is ruthless.
how is she this bad
pls put her out of her misery
tomura blink twice if you're in pain
he sighs loudly, letting his head fall back against the mattress. "you're killing me, princess. literally dying over here."
"i'm trying!" you whine, gripping the controller tighter. "the combos are confusing!"
he peeks at the screen just as your character plummets off the edge for the hundredth time. "jesus. do you want me to suffer? is that your plan?"
"shut up," you mumble, brows furrowed in concentration. "i'm focusing."
he scoffs, rolling onto his side to face you. "you’re embarrassing me in front of everyone."
"oh no! what a tragedy." you stick your tongue out at him before turning back to the game, missing the way his eyes flicker down to your lips for just a second too long.
he clicks his tongue, tapping away on his phone as his chat continues roasting you. he’s about to make some smart ass comment when he notices something that makes his fingers tighten around his phone.
someone in chat just said you were cute.
he stares at the message, then at the dozens of others popping up after it.
she’s actually so adorable
lowkey wanna wife her
im down bad for ur noob bestie tomura
a slow, simmering irritation builds in his chest.
he’s used to his chat being unhinged. they say dumb shit all the time. but for some reason, the idea of random faceless losers thirsting over you is making his jaw clench.
you're his best friend. his pain in the ass. his.
not theirs.
he doesn’t say anything at first, just subtly adjusts the camera angle so you’re barely visible in frame anymore. but his chat immediately notices.
tomura MOVE
why u blocking the view bro
he’s gatekeeping her lmao
his eye twitches. "shut up."
"who are you talking to?" you ask, not looking away from the screen.
"no one," he mutters, fingers tapping aggressively against his phone screen as he bans a few particularly annoying users from chat.
but it doesn’t stop. they keep talking about you, and the more they do, the worse his mood gets. he watches, silently seething, as you laugh at something, completely unaware of the way his grip tightens around his phone. you’re just so oblivious, so utterly clueless to the fact that he’s sitting right there, trying not to be a jealous, possessive freak over something as dumb as this.
it’s fine. it’s whatever. he doesn’t care.
except he does.
and when you finally beat the level, turning to him with a beaming smile and expecting praise, all you get is a grumpy huff as he yanks the controller from your hands.
"my turn. you suck."
"hey! i just finished that level!"
"yeah, after thirty minutes."
he ignores your protests, shoving his headset fully on and gripping the controller like he's about to unleash hell. his fingers move expertly over the buttons, and within seconds, he’s speeding through levels like they’re nothing. his chat is going insane, but he barely pays attention, too focused on demolishing every enemy in sight.
meanwhile, you slump against his shoulder, pouting. "you’re so mean."
he stiffens for half a second before relaxing, pretending not to care about the way your warmth seeps into his side.
"and you're awful at games," he grumbles, but his voice is softer now, barely audible over the sounds of combat filling the screen.
he doesn’t push you away.
and when you stay pressed against him, he doesn’t complain.
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© 2025 shinig6mis | do not plagiarize, repost, or translate any of my work.
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unriding · 2 months ago
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MOZE X F!READER ノ fluff. innocent first meetings. moze’s past is mentioned. reader is also described as wearing something pink with one mention of ruffles! because of this, i will say this is just a tad bit selfship coded. my apologies ^^;
SUMMARY𓈒 in which an unfamiliar face catches moze’s attention soon after the trio pays a visit to the xianzhou luofu.
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Moze doesn’t recall ever seeing you on the Luofu.
His work calls for him to remain hidden within the shadows— and by now, it was practically a given that he could recognize nearly every face on the ship within a few days. A one sided familiarity that he had grown used to, which is all the more reason why it takes him by surprise when he catches you— a stranger, casually chatting with Jiaoqiu.
He’s certain he would have remembered someone like you.
Something compels him to give you a proper name to recognize you with in the likely case that he crosses paths with you again, so he eventually settles on “the girl in pink that likes to talk with Jiaoqiu.”
After that day, he starts to see you more often. He’s slowly come to the realization that you can always be found talking to anyone, not just Jiaoqiu. You have a habit of speaking with your hands, animatedly waving them back and forth, and he also notes that your voice sounds gentle.
In the span of just an hour, you’ve already spoken to: a child that had gotten lost, Guanaifen (he notes that you seem to really enjoy talking to her along with Sushang), and even Diting.
But not him. Never him.
In fact, in the few days he’s had to grow fond of a complete stranger, he doesn’t recall you ever glancing in his direction even once. Not that you were supposed to- because as the infamous shadow guard of the Yaoqing, it goes without saying that you shouldn’t be able to notice him so easily.
“I’m sure it would help your restlessness quite a bit if you spoke to her,” Jiaoqiu smiles.
He shakes his head in response. “Striking a conversion with strangers doesn’t fall under my line of work.”
“Perhaps it would help you focus on your work, seeing as how you keep staring at her.”
The only reaction he gives him is a subtle furrow of his brows and a huff to pair with it (likely confused as to how he would even know of his occasional glances your way in the first place), but the foxian knows better than to assume he wouldn’t pounce on the given opportunity.
Years of working alongside him meant that he’s grown to understand the way Moze expresses himself, even if he’s never quite acted like this before.
Much to Moze’s misery, nearly a full week goes by until he sees you again. It’s already rather late in the evening when the mentioned ‘girl in pink that enjoys talking with Jiaoqiu everyone’ is now directly in front of him, weight shifted onto her knees. The pink frills he’s already committed to memory are softly bunched up in your hand as you lean further down to greet Diting again.
Being a shadow was what he knew best, and not being in the limelight is another thing he’s grown entirely accustomed to — his ‘work’ being composed of lurking in the darkness, marking enemies as prey, and most importantly- cleaning up the messes. The usual.
But when your eyes finally lock with his, and he’s hit with a look of such fondness for the first time in his life — he thinks being seen is quite nice. A sudden flash of a seemingly innocent curiosity takes possession of him the next second. To be so violently struck with the desire to know your name- hear it roll off your tongue, and learn everything else in relation to you.. though not because you’re his prey, but because of an unfamiliar reason he can’t quite pinpoint yet — bothers him a bit.
He’s broken out of his trance when the sweet look in your eyes switches to something resembling worry.
“Um— is it bad if I pet the puppy?”
There’s a brief moment of silence.
“No.”
“Oh.” The smile on your face returns. “Then were you wanting to pet the puppy too?”
He pauses before swallowing an oddly suffocating gulp (he makes a mental note that he should ask the doctor about this unfamiliar symptom later, lest something like this ends up hindering his strength in the future) and decides to take Jiaoqiu’s advice, nodding to your question and closing the distance to squat down with a low huff.
“I thought I was in trouble,” you laugh a bit, and it does nothing but solidify the creeping desire in his heart to stay close to you like this. Your laugh is airy, soft — only a bit different from how you typically sound with Jiaoqiu or the others, and he thinks hearing it again would in fact help him with his work. “I was wondering why the Great General’s guard would be looking my way.”
He adjusts his hood to better look at you, and the question slips before he even realizes. “You.. know of me?”
“Mhm, Mr. Moze. Or— Mr. Crow Feathered Weirdo,” you smile at him, “you have a pretty huge fan club. Did you know?”
He shakes his head.
One thing Moze has come to realize is that memories shape people into the way they are today, and that those very memories grow stronger with repeated experiences. In his case, what others would consider a bitter memory was nothing out of the ordinary to him. A guard whose life was made up of experiments, full of nothing but enduring and more enduring- all towards the hope of no longer being alone nor acknowledged as the orphan that had been abandoned in the wilderness by his village.. such a life holds little to no value. The vivid memory of the words he spoke falling on deaf ears is proof of exactly that.
Though this new memory doesn’t align with the rest.
You continue to pet Diting as you tell him about his fan club (apparently, they had recently snapped a photo of his phone case and considered this a great feat), gently scratching behind the dog’s ear and time starts to fly much faster than he would like; the two of you now walking side by side through the Luofu. He thinks his work could technically extend to walking a resident home and ensuring her safety, so he chalks it up to nothing beyond that.
But it only gets stranger after that.
He thinks about you afterwards in the comfort of his own bed — though he’s sure he would bump into you soon enough anyway, so he certainly should not be wasting his time reminiscing about such a short encounter with you. How your voice sounded in his head, in particular, doesn’t leave his mind. Only a few tosses and turns later, along with a frustrated grunt, he sits upright, the clock beside him now reading 1:37 AM.
A time he definitely shouldn’t be seeing nor perceiving, since he would normally be sound asleep by now. Perhaps, for the very first time since meeting him, Moze thinks Jiaoqiu’s advice may have actually worsened his symptoms.
He also hadn’t gotten your name yet.
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figutii · 29 days ago
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fem!reader x arkham knight!jason todd: angst w/ comfort
into my arms.
you didn't know how much you could take until you scream into the grey sky. the sun hides behind the tall skyscrapers, adding to the misery of the city. the harsh wind slaps against your face with every tiring and steep step. you could cry when you think about tomorrow's tasks.
keys rustle.
there was no denying how shocked yet reliefed you are when he illuminates your room, cosmic yet out of place within your confined walls. "jason-!" no denying the timeless prayers for him.
none of his limbs moved, armor standing right before the window. the silence should intimidate you, make you embarassed and ashamed, yet you gulp again, "…arkham knight, sorry."
"spare yourself the formality." you hoped he would put an end to the generated voice and instead reveal himself. you had no choice but be grateful to even have him in front of you.
"…how are you doing?" all the wishes and thoughts from sleepless nights turned into dust. you didn't know how else to cope with the sickening silence.
he breaks into a fit of laughter, helmet pushing back as the fabric around his neck gets exposed.
your arms cramp up, fingers intertwined like a child who's being ridiculed by her teacher in front of the entire class.
"how i'm doin'? how delighted i am! couldn't get better than this." his hand moves down from his stomach. by how sarcastically he mimics your phrasing you can't recollect ever attending a stand-up.
it was betrayal - no, he was never yours to have the right to be mad at him. just a boy from back then, another prey of the dark knight's injustice. you know it. but whenever he opens his mouth to you, you are left with conflict.
"what's it that you want?" you finally inquire, desperately wanting to know what it truly is that fuels him to treat you this low.
"impatient now, aren't we?" you swallow down the lump in your throat as subtle as possible. showing him another sign of weakness would only make you a laughing stock. especially when sweat drenches the inside of your hands.
no matter how much you try, you can only understand him to a certain point. you can refrain from the thousands causes that have crushed his young soul to an inhumane degree, but not this.
"i don't get you- what you want. why come here and berate me?" you clench your teeth in unease, surpressing the shaky words that leave your lips.
the robotic voice is scratching the inside of your ears. "don't act as if you're blind… thought you were smarter than… this. oh, how mistaken i was."
you eyes widen. how dare he talk to you like this? adressing you like you are his enemy? comparing you to the men who inflicted harm on him.
"what the fuck is wrong with you jason? what the hell do you," your palms open up, "want?!" tears assemble between your eyelashes, your head heating up.
"what's wrong with me?" he takes slow steps towards you, the enormous suit making you hold your breath. "since when have you been this blunt reader, huh? what's wrong with me you ask? - tch, turning into the batman now, aren't we?"
your eyeballs could bulge out of their sockets. you pant for breath. "batman?" your jaw shakes under his shadow, eyes not knowing where to see through him. "s-so now i'm the batman? him… seriously?" you weren't sure if you were mad or just sad. out of everyone: the man who let him die.
"you don't make sense jas-"
"ohh, has anything ever made sense to you? after all, you haven't had it very difficult, have you?" he wittily remarks.
nothing has ever made sense indeed. "FUCK YOU JASON! WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?!" your shoulders jerk forwards, face never this close to anyone before.
"shut it."
you breast heaves, the sharp edges of his words letting you relive another case of shame. you can only watch the pixels on his helmet. at this point you just want to chuckle.
"… now i'm bruce, no? are you also gonna fight me? do you ever think about pointing a gun at me, jason - wanna shoot me?" all you see are blue pixels. it's been ridiculous since the start, dumb enough to let it get to this point.
"i might."
sweat drops tickle down your neck.
it's been a very long time since you've lost hope in batman or the remaining vigilantes in gotham. here, away from the wealthy parts you're doomed to be stuck in this madtown. you curse bruce.
the tears escape.
you don't care anymore about his presence - you anticipate his departure through the window like on other occasions so he will leave you by yourself for once and all. you were delusional enough to feed into the lie of being able to fix him. there is no fixing when you aren't the cause nor the remedy.
you hand swipes along your cheekbone, escaping his gaze. the hatred has outweighed the compassion, the trauma that made you look out for him every night from the corner of your window. there is a slight glimpse of that broken little boy and you don't know what to do.
you must have really failed him before you could acknowledge it. oh, how naive and stupid of you. maybe you weren't meant to be in his story. it doesn't matter anymore.
it's all quiet as before when you walk to the door. he knows where the exit is after all.
a big hand engulfs your wrist.
"don't you touch me."
"or else what?"
it feels like another kick to your face. you try to yank him away from you, but it's a failure.
"look, this is my apartment. i don't want to have anything to do with you - so fuck off," you remind, brows furrowed.
your body jolts, the skin around your upper arms pinched. it's getting warmer, his helmet towering right in front of you. "mind repeating that again sweetheart?" the brightness burns your eyes and when you look down he squeezes you harder. "i demand an answer - i don't like rude girls."
something deep inside of you is denying to waste more tears. if this is the end then you might as well deliver your own part.
"i refuse. 'm not talking against a wall," you exhale, which should get you a blow against your skull.
it's blurry at first, but you listen to his cackle instead. "if that makes you feel better about yourself," the translucent shield comes off.
your lips quiver at the scar next to his nose, eyes widening at the J. idioms stammer into disjoined noises. you don't want to see anything anymore, your sniffs echeoing inside four dull walls.
how did it come to this? you have become consumed with rage, no empathy left for the little boy in him. robin. the news caught up with the dissapearance of boy wonder until every part of batman's dirt was swept under the carpet, forever. your past self wouldn't have pushed him away, not like this.
the root of your hair grinds against his armored chest, the picture of the ground too foggy. you have failed him, abandoned your principles. no matter how difficult it would get - you promised to stand next to him and make the child inside him feel safe.
both of you have gone wrong.
"look… at me." memories come back, the once juvenile voice shining through his deep one. blue orbs stare back. there is resentment in his expression yet his strained brows and mouth tell you otherwise.
the firmness around you is gone and he steps back. there isn't more space than before but simulates more distance. you don't know what's next.
you search for eye contact, which he denies with a turn to the window. you know his mouth was agape just seconds ago, arms floating around his thighs in an unsure manner.
he's leaving. what happened to you trying to help him? no words, no action, no sympathy. another unsolved day, the pattern has repeated itself too often to open your mouth now - to change this vicious cycle when it's too late.
the old curtain slides to the side.
his broad back is the only thing that's highlighted by orange light before he gets completely engulfed.
"jason," you say out loud and he almost pauses, but it doesn't stop him.
can you really allow this - another time? again and again? you know you won't see him for a long time after this. no, you won't ever catch him again.
"jason!" you run up. he slowly rotates until his profile takes you in, commentless. the tense skin around his mouth and half-lidded eyes scare but tell you everything you need to do, even if they aren't thought-out.
he observes closely as you get to the windowsill, your hand stretching out. he scrunches his face prominently, while following how you gently lay your fingers against his jaw. you forget about how it could trigger him. the day has been too invasive.
his face reminds you of a bunny, glossy eyes and tense brows. that's the ultimate signal - bending down to his level and at a leisure pace just watching each other. his dark lashes stick together, skin covered by perspiration. there is a mild tang of soap, locks sticking to his forehead.
his hair reminds you of the lucious curls from his teenhood, innocent and cute. the man in front of you hasn't changed much, lips seperated like a curious boy. his breathing haltens, eyes awaiting.
and then you just throw your arms around his shoulders, carefully as your own breathing excelerates. you are too caught up with calming yourself down, not noticing how he freezes. his eyes and mouth are wide open. he is frightened.
his wet hair presses against you. the warm feeling mixed with the material of his upper body is foreign. you want to squeeze yourself closer to him. you endulge it as much as you can, not knowing what will happen after this.
"you don't have to fear jason. it's over, i'm here. i promise you i'll be here with you," the sunlight penetrates your shut lids, its warmness making it feel less darker. you are now ready for whatever is to come. the sunset's red shades haven't been this freeing since years. it could be the last time.
but if this could last longer, you would be the happiest.
something vibrates against your side, guttural voices ringing in your ear. you can't make much out of it, until you hear sobbing.
you are at loss for words.
he's shaking, big arms hindering you from taking a glimpse at his face.
it's now that he needs you the most. your palm has turned numb from rubbing his back at a slow pace. sitting with one leg on the roof shouldn't be this sentimental.
"it's all right big boy, cry. it's okay."
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something inside him snaps. he weeps like a child.
reblogs are very much needed
reblogs and comments are much appreciated!! feeling extra girlie sad after reading this :( doing this after escaping uni. i´ve already had a comfort fic with arkham jason so this is kinda diff.
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theemissuniverse · 16 days ago
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“DYNAMITE” HENRY HART X ENEMY FEM!READER
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SUMMARY : You and Henry haven’t really gotten along since you’ve known each other. Henry’s put up with it for far too long. (Both 18, graduated high school. Relationship is sort of like Freddie and Sam from ICarly.)
CONTENT : suggestive content, slightly explicit
MASTERLIST
No one and I mean not a single soul anticipated you and Henry ever being a couple. From early childhood to the end of middle school, the two of you were kind of like enemies. You would ‘bully’ him and the two of you would argue constantly up until when the two of you graduated high school.
The only reason why the two of you spoke was because Charlotte was your best friend and Henry was her friend too. Henry couldn’t even understand how you could like Jasper more than him.
He was tired. Tired of the teasing, tired of the hitting, tired of you. Especially because he had actually no other reason to dislike you. He honestly thought you were really cool when you weren’t dishing out all your misery onto him.
Tonight? Tonight was the final straw.
You were so mad at him that you almost exposed he was Kid Danger at a party Jasper was throwing at the air n b. Henry immediately took you into a bedroom and closed the door before looking at you, furious.
He was even more mad was because the only reason why you were invited to the party was because he told Jasper to. Jasper was afraid of you and didn’t want you to come but Henry didn’t want you to feel left out.
That’s just the type of person Henry was.
He was never this angry at you. He was used to you but he was boiling with anger.
This was it.
“What the actual fuck is your problem?”
You were caught off guard. Henry wasn’t really the swearing type unless he was joking or being funny. You had to of done it.
Henry didn’t even let you speak. He just kept going. “Teasing me since elementary school? I can handle. Throwing me into lockers in middle school? I can handle. Making me get detention after you blamed me for everything you did through out high school? I can handle. But exposing my secret? My secret to the entire party for me merely existing is something I can not fucking handle anymore.”
You looked at Henry in sort of a guilty and sad way. “It wasn’t for nothing.”
“Oh it wasn’t?” Henry begins to sarcastically say. “Oh, then please tell me what the problem is! Enlighten me! I really wanna know what grinded Ms. Nothing is ever Perfect gears tonight?! Hmm? What was it?”
You looked down in shame, not even wanting to say why. “You were talking to Ashley.”
Henry was even more confused. Why did the thought of talking to Ashley bother you? “You almost exposed me…because I was talking to Ashley?”
“See, when you put it like that, it sounds bad.”
“It is bad!” Henry scoffed at you. It’s like he couldn’t believe what and who he was seeing. “See, you’re ridiculous. I don’t even know why I wanted you here at this party in the first place.”
When Henry had said that, your eyes lit up. “You wanted me here?”
“Yeah because everyone is so afraid of you and thinks you’re a….the very not nice word that starts with a ‘B’ but I’m said ‘no, she’s just going through a lot. She’s not that bad’ but you know what? You are that bad. You’re crazy! No! Insane even. And this whole thing was crazy for me to even-“
Henry was cut off abruptly by the motion of you kissing him, directly on the lips. He stood there in complete shock. The kiss was so short, he didn’t even get to appreciate how soft your lips were. How comforting they felt.
He looked at you confused. He blinked a little, trying to process what just happened. “Um…what was that?”
You bit your lip and looked down to the ground. You couldn’t even look at him. “I know I’ve been extra…I’ve always been extra it’s just…I always thought you were cute and…I kinda liked you. Even though I gave you a wedgie four times…and ate your lunch every day….and made a dog eat your homework and when you told the teacher the excuse, you got detention but…I guess that was my way of expressing that I liked you. And when I saw Ashley flirting with you and you…enjoying it…I freaked out.”
Henry was completely stunned by your confession. Never in a million years would he ever hear from your mouth that you had a crush on him. The entire time.
And then he thought about it. How every Valentine’s Day at school he would get candy grahams but never knew who it was. How quickly you reacted to him even slightly grazing your hand. How sometimes you would just stare at him and he would have to ask you if something was on his face.
And then he thought about himself. How every Valentine’s Day he secretly hoped it was you. How he hoped you didn’t mind him purposely grazing your hand just to feel your contact. How sometimes he wanted to grab you by the hips and give you the most passionate kiss you’ve ever had by the way you looked at him.
“I’m sorry, Henry. I’m sorry I’ve been a bitch. I’m sorry I ruined everything.”
Now here’s something he’d thought he never see. You were crying. Tears. Actual tears not sweat. You had never cried in front of him before. Never.
Henry bit his lip, feeling bad. Was it still justifiable for him to be angry? Yes but he finally understood at least why you’ve been acting like this towards him.
You went to try and walk away but Henry wouldn’t let you. He grabbed your arm and spun you around. This time Henry’s lips landed on yours.
It was your turn to be surprised. You didn’t think after everything the two of you went through that Henry would even remotely feel the same way as you. But he did. Every bit of it.
You pulled Henry down more since he was taller than you. Henry held onto your waist as he deeply kissed you. You were melting right in his arms. Nothing felt better than his kisses.
Henry wasn’t expecting for your hands to go to the belt on his jeans. He felt you unbutton him super quick.
You slowly took the belt off this time, grazing his abdomen with your nails softly. The gesture made Henry let out a low growl that he himself had no idea where it came from.
Henry picked you up by thighs and had you up against the wall. Held you in place while you broke the kiss to kiss and suck on his neck.
“We-shit-need to talk-damn.” The sucking on his neck made him moan relentlessly.
“Talk about what?” You asked while taking off your shirt.
“Talk about-“ Henry cut himself off when he say how good your chest looked in a tightly fitted black bra. You smirked, seeing his reaction. You took his hands and placed them on your ass.
He forced himself out of his own trance. “I don’t just want to have sex with you. I like you.”
“Then have me.”
Henry looked in your eyes and then back at your lips. All before kissing you but this time, he did it lovingly. Like you were made of glass.
You were his now. In a strange way.
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redtsundere-writes · 5 months ago
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Part 18: Initiative
King!SukunaRyomen x Servant!FemReader
Summary: You used to be just another servant among the army of humans operating under the command of the terrible king, Sukuna Ryomen. An ordinary human who only knows how to wash, clean and cook. Until one day, he notices something in you that you hadn't seen before.
Tags: MDNI. +18. Murder. Blood. Cannibalism. Sukuna Ryomen Is The Warning Itself. Nudity. Sexual Display. Vaginal. Fingering. Sometimes fluff, sometimes angst. Beta read.
Word Count: 5342 words.
Beginning. | ← Previous | Next →
“His Majesty, King Toji Zen’in and Her Highness, Queen Nozomi Zen’in, are pleased to extend their most distinguished invitation to the Grand Royal Anniversary Ball in commemoration of the 500th anniversary of the founding of the Zen’in Kingdom.
On a splendors night beneath the stars, nobles, courtiers, and dignitaries from all lands are invited to join this majestic celebration taking place at the Zen’in Castle, where music, dance, and the brilliance of magic will illuminate the evening on the tenth day of the fifth month, year 700.
With the highest respect and gratitude,
King Toji Zen’in
Queen Nozomi Zen’in
May your path be guided by justice and honor.”
“A ball?!” You announced excitedly as you skipped in place.
It’s been years since you attended one. You missed the balls, but not for the dancing itself. You enjoyed listening to live musicians, especially pianists. The last time you went to one with your mother and sisters, it didn't go so well. Your mother scolded you on the way home for not dancing with anyone even though you had spent the last two weeks practicing choreography. You were never very good at talking to men like Yorozu was, but now you can enjoy one without the pressure of courting a rich man who will save you from misery.
"Every year it's the same," Uraume commented with annoyance, announcing her presence on the parade ground. "Welcome, Commander Mahito," they bowed respectfully to your savior.
"What's up?" He greeted them back with a red eye from tearing up so much.
"The king was invited to a ball! Sounds like fun!" You told Uraume showing him the invitation.
“If I were you, I wouldn’t be so excited,” Uraume replied, taking the invitation to put it back in its respective envelope. “The king has rejected every invitation he has received from the Zen’in in the last 5 years.”
Sukuna Ryomen, being a king who believes himself superior to everyone, never bothered to attend the royal events he was invited to. He would hate to waste his time on unimportant events like everyone else. He would rather starve to death than attend a stupid ball. Uraume has seen the king destroy letters from the sorcerer kingdoms just by knowing their content for centuries. They knew the king better than anyone else.
“It’s probably because the king doesn’t know how much fun they are,” you argued.
“It seems like you’re the one who wants to go,” Uraume said.
“Obviously I want to go. Besides, getting out of the castle would be great,” you explained with obviousness. “Wearing a pretty dress, dancing all night, watching and listening to the orchestra…” You explained, delighted at the idea of ​​living the experience again.
“Good luck, the king would never agree,” Uraume declared confidently.
Over the years, as the king’s right hand, Uraume has been the one in charge of receiving the packages, especially when it comes from enemy kingdoms. They are the first in line to defend the honor of the great kingdom of Sukuna and it is always the same. A strong sorcerer arrives to kill as many curses as possible, he fights against them so they don’t enter the castle, they surrender so they don’t waste any more time on a one-man mission, and they leave the letter to complete the mission. Uraume has had to go through that tedious process hundreds of times only for the king to destroy letters almost immediately. 
“I would at least like to try to convince him,” you commented determinedly.
“Oh, someone is sure,” Mahito teased, wrapping his arm around your shoulders in a friendly way.
“You won't be able to do it. I've known the king for over 500 years, he'll never go to a ball or he'll allow you to,” Uraume explained calmly.
A light bulb went off above your head. You had an idea to distract yourself from your daily chores. Something you used to do with your sisters to resolve any conflict.
“What if we bet on it?” You proposed with a playful smile.
Uraume raised an eyebrow. Were you so sure you could convince them that you could bet it? It was a gigantic stupidity, they didn't have to lower himself to your silly games. Uraume was sure they would win anyway, but if he was so sure, why not bet it? It would be the easiest prize they have ever gotten in their life. 
“What do you want to bet?” Uraume asked you curiously.
“If the king agrees to go to the ball…” You thought for a second about what prize you wanted. You snapped your fingers when you got it. “I want Mrs. Inoue to become my lady-in-waiting.”
You really hated looking for Mrs. Inoue and interrupting her daily servant duties to talk to her for five minutes. If she became your lady-in-waiting, you could talk to her whenever you wanted and it would reduce her manual work considerably. Instead of washing dishes, sweeping for hours, and spending the whole morning among the crops, she could help you study, get ready for the day, and be at your training. It was the best reward you could ask for, and Uraume, being in charge of all the servants, could give it to you.
“Fine, but if I win, you will have to prepare dinner for the king for a month,” Uraume proposed their own reward.
Your smile immediately fell. Preparing dinner for the king meant having to maneuver humans as if they were fish. The mere thought of having to cut a human into different pieces and remove the bones from someone of your race made your stomach turn. This game was no longer as fun as you thought it would be.
“Scared?” Uraume asked you with a smile full of confidence.
“Uuuuh, they said your mom is fat,” Mahito whispered to you to tease you even more.
Were you really going to let them mess with you? Ever since you killed your sister, you have learned a valuable lesson. You weren't going to let anyone make fun of you, no matter how close or strange they were. You were a brand-new person and no one would mess with you anymore. Not Yorozu, not Naoya, not anyone else. You were going to win this bet. For you and for Mrs. Inoue.
“No,” you extended your hand. “Deal,” you smiled at them kindly.
Uraume relaxed his face, making it monotonous again. They shook hands. They were sure you were going to fail. There was no way the king would agree to something like that. You couldn’t get everything you wanted just because you were his favorite, but it would be fun to see you lose. They might not know you, but they did know the king.
“Follow me. The king is waiting for you,” Uraume showed them the way.
Back at the office, Sukuna and Kenjaku had seen the entire fight with Naoya. Sukuna knew Mahito was about to arrive, so he didn’t care much about leaving you alone for a moment with the stowaway, plus he wanted to see you in action in the middle of an invasion. It was a relief to see you keep your composure and act accordingly. He expected nothing less from you. On the other hand, Kenjaku was more interested in your skills with the bow. You were a good archer, but he didn't think you could hit a target moving so fast. You definitely had a technique, now it was time to find out what it was.
"My king, Commander Mahito has arrived," Uraume introduced the guest, letting him into the large office.
"Good day, my great king." Mahito bowed to him respectfully.
"Welcome to the Kingdom of Sukuna," Kenjaku greeted him.
"Kenny!" Mahito ran to hug him. "Long time no see!"
"Likewise," Kenjaku hugged him back.
Sukuna watched you intently. You had long since gotten used to that suffocating feeling. He studied you from head to toe, memorizing your every move. From your posture to the gestures on your face, Sukuna learned more about you day by day. You just smiled at him to cut the tension between you.
“Did Naoya bring an invitation again?” Sukuna asked Uraume as soon as she handed him the envelope.
“That’s right.”
This was the perfect time to try to convince the king to go to the ball. You went over in your mind all the advice Kenjaku had given you about debate, that would be your greatest weapon in this intellectual battle. You had to do your best to beat him.
“Once you understand the other's point of view, it is easier to defend your own position more successfully, especially because you avoid misunderstandings and arguing about aspects that the other side has not really said,” you quoted your teacher in your mind.
First, you had to understand why Sukuna did not want to go to the ball. Most likely it was his racial hatred of humans. Balls are full of them, how could you convince him to go to a place full of the race he hates the most? Sukuna took the envelope, surely, to destroy it. You had to speak now to avoid it.
“It's an invitation to a ball,” you told him, approaching his desk to get his attention.
“I know, it’s been the same for 5 years now,” Sukuna replied.
“Dances are so much fun,” you came up with an empirical comment.
“They’re just a waste of time,” Sukuna replied. “You should turn the tables on him.”
“Not if he uses it to his advantage.” You threw the bait.
Everyone looked at you intrigued. Kenjaku quickly noticed what you were doing, he was about to watch your first live debate. He felt like a mother when watching her chick hatch. Sukuna relaxed in his seat, you behaved like in the chess game you had months ago. It didn’t take long for him to realize that you wanted to go to that ball. After all, you were a girl. Going to a royal ball promised to be a fairy tale night that every young girl your age dreams of. 
“What kind of benefit would I get from spending a night with stupid dancing rats?” Sukuna inquired, curious to know your next move. “He’s already down,” you thought confidently.
“Doesn’t he know that old saying? ‘Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer,’” you explained. “If he goes to the Zen’in ball, it would be a chance to see the castle, its inhabitants, and its interior.” You made a good argument, but the king was still not convinced.
“What if it’s a trap?” Sukuna was about to eat one of your pieces.
“The same trap for five years in a row?” You moved your piece back just in time.
Kenjaku was grinning from ear to ear as he watched the conversation. This had been the actual fruit of his teachings. His first harvest had been a small, tasteless orange. If he kept putting in fertilizer, next year’s harvest would be bigger and juicier. There were many things you could improve on, but this was an incredible start. You were taking on the king on his own board, a difficult thing to do.
“Why not? Sometimes sorcerers are so stupid.” Sukuna sat back in his seat to become serious.
“If it really was a trap, why wait?” You asked. “I would take advantage of any important holiday to send him an invitation, if it was a trap.”
“Because the Zen'in Kingdom's anniversary ball is the only one where all the kings, the strongest sorcerers in the world, gather together,” Sukuna explained, eating one of your bishops. “Why would I go to the ball when I can attack some other kingdom?,” Uraume smiled slightly as they realized that Sukuna cornered you with that argument.
“Then why hasn't he done it?,” you asked, feigning innocence.
His red eyes widened as he realized. Sukuna had made a mistake in his argument and you noticing it only hurt his ego more. You sacrificed one of your bishops to eat his queen in one bite. The king had accepted that he knew that the ball wasn't a trap. If it were, he would have conquered some of the largest sorcerer kingdoms many years ago while their kings and troops were waiting for him in the wrong place.
“I really think it's a ball,” you continued. “A perfect opportunity to meet all your rivals in one visit.” Checkmate.
Sukuna looked at you, this time, admiring your bravery in facing him so directly. Even though it was your chance to be smiling from cheek to cheek for having won the argument, there didn't seem to be any malice behind your actions. You were just a girl who liked balls and you really wanted to go for fun. You hadn't done it to prove a point. Uraume looked at him in surprise, they couldn't believe his king was contemplating the idea of ​​going to a human event, leave that, a sorcerer's event.
"Fine, we'll go to the Zen'in ball." Sukuna gave you the win. Uraume's mouth dropped to the floor. This couldn't be happening.
"Thank you, my king!" You squealed in joy. You walked around his desk to throw yourself at him and hug him by the neck. "You'll see that you won't regret it!"
The colors rose to the king's face as soon as you kissed his cheek. Your warm embrace pressed him to your body as you invaded his face with loud kisses of gratitude. Each kiss tickled his body with emotion. You transmitted to him that warmth that characterized you. He stood frozen like a monument, his body short-circuited as he couldn't understand why you were acting so loving towards him. Receiving that kind of affection wasn't in his system. He never thought you would do something like that of your own free will.
"I'm leaving, I'll go pick out the dress I'll wear," you said. You walked away from him, leaving him wanting more, to leave the office and look for Mrs. Inoue.
Sukuna and Uraume still couldn't believe what had happened. "Is she really that happy to go to the ball?" he thought, caressing the cheek you just kissed him on. It was warm and a little wet. It was the first time he experienced something like that. "Did the king really let himself be convinced like that?!" Uraume was about to confront him, but the king spoke first.
“Uraume, take Commander Mahito to his room to rest from his journey,” Sukuna ordered, slowly coming out of his trance. He remembered that he was in front of very important people for his kingdom.
 “Yes, my king.” Uraume bowed to guide the guest to his new room. “It seems that I will have to face him later,” they thought.
“Thank you, my king. See you later,” Mahito said goodbye, following behind the servant.
Once the door closed, Sukuna dropped his face into his upper hands. His face was so hot that he could roast a piece of meat on his cheeks. His heart kept beating a mile a minute for every kiss you gave him. This was the reaction he hated you causing him. It confused him and distracted him from his plans.
“I have taught her well, haven’t I?” Kenjaku gloated over his star pupil.
“Too well.” Sukuna placed his face in one of his hands to look at him in annoyance, not because he had done what he asked, but because his ego had been crushed.
“Do you still think the dance is a trap?” Kenjaku asked him.
“Definitely,” Sukuna answered, trying to focus on the plans for the war he was planning to start. “But it’s not for a surprise attack. It would be too obvious if it was.”
“It’s complicated because I agree with you and the young lady.” Most likely they are looking for information. “Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer,” Kenjaku commented.
“There is only one way to find out, but I am sure of one thing.” The king took the envelope with the invitation.
In addition to the wax seal with the Zen’in symbol, there was a stamp with a purple orchid. Orchids come in different colors and the meaning depends on this. Purple ones usually mean justice, prudence and wisdom. The Zen’in know perfectly well what they are doing.
“The Zen’in have already made their first move.”
You skipped through the halls happily and with a big smile on your face. You greeted all the servants, who saw you so happy in such a sad castle. You couldn’t believe that you had won a bet against Uraume and now he had saved Mrs. Inoue from her usual chores. You headed to the garden where you knew your best friend would be harvesting the crops. You found her crouching down picking carrots, pulling one by its leaves.
“Mrs. Inoue!” You greeted her as you ran over to her, being careful not to crush the other vegetables.
“What are you doing here? Did you hear the invasion alarm?” Mrs. Inoue asked you, surprised that you were with her and not sheltering somewhere safer.
“I heard it, Naoya Zen'in is a complete idiot,” you commented angrily, emphasizing that you stood up to him.
“You fought Naoya Zen'in?! That's dangerous!” The lady scolded you while spanking you as if you were a naughty child. “Are you okay? Did he hurt you? Is he as handsome as they say?” The lady bombarded you with questions, although she seemed more interested in the last one.
“Yes, no and yes,” you answered at the same speed. “But that's the least important,” you took the basket of carrots from her hands to hang it on your arm. “From now on you stop being a maid.”
“Excuse me?” She looked at you, puzzled.
“From today on, you will be my lady-in-waiting,” you told her, interlacing her arm as yours to return to the castle.
It was wonderful news. Unlike maids, ladies-in-waiting are not seen as domestic servants, so she would leave tedious tasks to spend the whole day with the young lady. Her new job would simply be to provide conversation and company, much less tiring than running around the castle.
“Does the king know about this?” The lady inquired, somewhat worried that this was too good to be true.
“It is not my duty to inform him. I won a bet against Uraume, let them tell him.”
Mrs. Inoue was flattered. She didn't know what you had done to achieve this, but she was sure that you had done it to protect her. You always cared about others, even if it ended up harming you. That meant that you considered her a close person and that you could trust her.
“You know? All my life I worked in the Sukuna mines, so I never got married or had children, much less grandchildren,” The misses commented as they walked through the hallways. “You are the closest thing to that,” she told you with a smile so as not to cry from the joy of having someone who cared about her.
“I will do anything for my family.” You responded with the same gesture, taking her hand to return to the castle.
Night fell on the kingdom of Sukuna, the best time to hunt humans. The curses prepared their fangs, claws, tentacles or any strange limb they had to stalk the human commune with caution. The small army of the commune deployed its night watch every evening. The men and the elders positioned themselves in their respective places with their sharp weapons to counterattack in the worst case that a curse decided to appear there. They could be weak, but never cowards.
The king walked from side to side in front of his fireplace, thinking about what war strategies he could implement for the Zen'in dance with their pros and cons. It was difficult to plan when he did not know with certainty what the Zen'in wanted from him, but he better be prepared for any possible scenario. His head was beginning to hurt from thinking so much about the uncertain future. He needed to relax.
He stumbled upon the erotic books that Kenjaku had let him read as homework a month ago. “It’s true, I never read them.” As soon as he opened the page he had stopped at, his mind traveled to that memory where he had you against the bed. Your innocent eyes looking at him with uncertainty, your hair spread across the sheets and your breasts exposed, wanting to be touched. He slammed the book shut as soon as his cheeks suddenly heated up.
“What the hell is wrong with me?!” Sukuna exclaimed, pulling his hair out of frustration.
Sukuna had accepted that he thought you were pretty, that you were a faithful servant and that you would be a capable queen, but this was already on another level. He thought he only felt a strong conditional respect for you like the one he had for Uraume, but now it was much more than that. Having accepted that he was in love with you was the worst decision he had ever made in his life. If he didn't find a way to control himself, everything would get out of hand. He fought with every cell in his body to stay out of it, to remain the terrible king he had always been.
He covered his face in an attempt to forget your naked body, but he couldn't. He didn't understand. He had seen many naked bodies to eat, none of them gave him pleasure to see. He preferred to see them suffer than on the cold kitchen table, being cleaned with a knife to be his food later. He considered humans to be filthy rats, why did he see you in a different light?
Sukuna looked at himself in one of the mirrors that hung near his closet, framed with beautiful gold leaf engravings. He couldn't believe that this face that commanded respect and spread terror through the villages was blushing at the thought of a human. A conspiracy impossible to believe. What did all this mean? This couldn't be happening, not to him.
“No! You can't let her take control of you. You should control her!” He scolded himself strongly in front of the mirror, pointing a finger at himself.
Sukuna tightly squeezed the book he had in his hand. He had to prove to himself that he could control himself, avoid thinking about you, seeing you like any other human. He lay down on his bed in annoyance. He looked for the page where he had stopped. He wrinkled his forehead, concentrating on his mission: to be able to read an erotic novel without having any kind of reaction.
The count opened the door with his heart in his hand. She must be the only person he expected to see under the beauty of midnight. It was her, his beautiful beloved wrapped in pink lace. His lips pounced on her with the force of a desperate hurricane. They couldn't waste a second of this spontaneous encounter away from everyone. He unwrapped her like a birthday present and laid her down on the bed. He was going to make love to her as if this were the last night he would be alive.
This was the fantasy world he lived in every time the planets aligned to give them the opportunity to be together. Every kiss, every caress, every touch felt like the last, taking advantage of every second in her presence. His lips were hungry to taste her sensitive skin, to discover what lay beyond her beauty. He tasted her erect breasts with a burning passion that only a man can feel for the love of his life, the one that drove his senses crazy.
“The love of his life, the one that drove his senses crazy,” Sukuna whispered the last sentence to himself as if it were an enigma.
He knew what love was, he didn’t live under a rock, but the love of his life seemed to him an even crazier concept than love itself. He knew that there were different categories of love: parental love, love of art, romantic love, etc. So, what the heck was the love of his life? A once-in-a-lifetime love? Wasn’t that the same as the love of a partner? “Ugh, humans and their nonsense,” he thought, growing more enraged with the situation.
She pressed the book against his bare chest, mulling over the idea in her mind. Maybe he didn't know if you were the love of his life, but you did drive each of his senses crazy. You altered his vision when he saw you in those expensive dresses he bought you. You altered his touch every time he had you close enough to feel your skin. You altered his hearing with every compliment you sang to him. You altered his sense of smell every time he managed to smell the trace of your perfume, even the slightest. You altered his taste with those lips that he just wanted to keep tasting. He was losing his focus. He took the book again to return to what he was doing.
She mounted him, taking possession of his body as if it belonged to her for life. She snaked her way to his lips, offering him the apple that would take them out of paradise forever. The Garden of Eden didn't matter if they could create their own just by being close. Their mouths fused in a kiss as he melted into her. A pleasurable moan escaped from their throats as they felt their flesh rubbing together. Finally, they were united after so long.
Their bodies moved in sync. Lust coursed through their veins, preventing them from thinking coherently. The only thing that mattered was that they felt fulfilled with each other. His beloved moved her hips to the beat of an invisible metronome. Their intimacy expanded with each sit, splashing her fluids over his legs. Her smooth breasts bounced in front of him like a distraction from what was happening below. His hands ran over her rear to guide her to the point that expanded her horizons. A forbidden dance that would cost them their lives.
“My king,” he heard your voice whispering in his mind.
You were on top of him, completely naked. You caressed his chest with the tips of your fingers, moving his tunic out of the way. His breathing hitched as he felt your hips moving sensually against his crotch. It was slow, too slow. Sukuna tried to back away but you moved closer to him, cornered against the headboard of the bed. You smiled innocently at him as if you weren’t playing with him until he burst from impatience. Sukuna’s heart was beating a thousand miles an hour. He was terrified, not because you were there, but because of what he was capable of feeling. He wanted to continue being the terrible king, but he couldn’t do that if you were here. He wanted to get rid of this feeling that tormented him. He wanted…
Your lips against yours silenced all the noise in his mind. He closed his eyes and let himself melt under your sweet touch. He threw the book aside to take possession of your hips. He had no idea what he was doing. He just let his primitive instinct take over. Everything was silent in the middle of the night. If you paid attention, you could hear his altered breathing in the company of the burning campfire. He caressed your hair while his other hands and the tongue on his stomach ran through your body, invoking his mouths to plant kisses on you along the way.
You caressed his strong arms, running over every inch with tenderness until you took his shoulders. Sukuna's face was inked with carmine, but that didn't matter to him now, he needed to satisfy that hunger that he couldn't calm with just anyone. You arched your back as Sukuna took you by the butt with his lower hands, while his upper hands held you to his now bare chest. Your tongue extended as far as possible to feel any corner of your body that it could reach.
He opened your ass to introduce one of his members. Both of you let out a moan in unison at the terrible pleasure you were feeling. Sukuna growled until he put it in as far as it would go. It was tight, warm and slimy, the best feeling he had ever experienced in his life. He guided your hips to move along the magnitude of his penis. Slow but hard, increasing the speed so that you would get used to his body. He kissed your neck, leaving it full of love marks.
He had you under control, right where he wanted you. He was the only one who could own your body. The only one who could see you in such a vulgar way. He flexed his legs to be in charge of the tempo. He slammed his big cock against your wet vagina, soaking his lap and his second cock with your fluids. He growled with each movement, a roar of satisfaction at reaching his maximum. Your hands ran down his neck until they reached the nape of his neck to pull his hair, the only support you had to withstand each blow to your cervix. His four arms trapped you so that you stayed still. You were cornered to his body with no escape.
The second cock was erect like a post, also wanting to participate in the action. It hit your ass like a door, asking for permission to enter. Sukuna, sensing that urgency, lifted you up to sit you on his lap again. He took hold of your arms, keeping them behind your back while he opened his ass to let his extra friend in. You moaned in pain but stayed still. He forced you to lower your hips so that he could enter completely.
“Show your king how much you love him,” Sukuna purred on the edge of maximum excitement.
Sukuna was a complete mess. His body hadn't sweated like this since his last battle with King Jogo, he felt like his heart was going to jump out of his chest and he moved like a machine to reach the end of the race. Your bodies collided with each other, your ass clapping against his testicles to a rhythm that they had just invented. He grunted with each push you gave him to the beat of his strong hips. He took your breasts, covering them completely with the palms of his hands. A pair of tongues appeared on them to lick and nibble them gently, excited and curious to delight in that flesh that they would never dare to swallow. They were soft and playful, a perfect distraction from what was happening down there.
As soon as he least expected it, a white liquid shot out of their penises. Sukuna had recently learned that it was semen and it was normal. He let go against the bed as he breathed heavily. He relaxed his neck, letting his head fall back against the pillows. He closed his eyes as a smile crept onto his face. This had been the best night of his life.
He opened his eyes to take care of you but you were no longer there. You never were. He only found his hands holding his now limp members after having finished what he deserved. Reality hit him hard. He had imagined it all to masturbate. He let out a desperate cry before throwing Kenjaku’s book into the flames of the fireplace. He pulled at his hair as he wondered why all this was happening to him. “No, no, no!” he repeated in his mind. It was official. The king lost his mind.
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Tag list: @bbnbhm @pxnellian @kbirdieee2540 @konigswifeyforlifey @kyo-kyo1 @calico-cheriies @imas1mpp @alone-the-honored-one @vlads-dracula3 @bigraga-sk @neeke-lilac02 @shaazd @airandyeah @energiepie @awkward-walking-potato @delightfully-studying @catobsessedlady
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kpop---scenarios · 7 months ago
Text
Misery Loves Company (1)
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Pairing: Lee Know x Reader
Warning: Language etc
Genre: Coworkers/Enemies to Lovers
Word Count: 2.4k
A/N: Okay! I'm happier with this version of the first chapter!
Everything Taglist: @piscesrising01 @baby-stay92 @kisses-too-the-moon @dwaekkiiracha @rylea08 @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 @satosugu4l @iovecb97 @lordmaahes-nsc @sailorkoss @minh0scat @pixie0627 @50-husbands @jinnies-muse @yaorzu-blog @joyofbebbanburg @number1jeonginstan @skzooluvr @jisunglyricist @ambersnowxxx
@wife2straykids @silly250 @gabriellamarie @tsunderelino @1810cl
@anskiiz @ayyonoona
“Are you ready for the conference?” Your friend and co-worker, Hyunjin grins. “I can't wait for it.”
“Oh yeah, a week of meetings and workshops sounds absolutely delightful.” You chuckle.
“Believe me, that's not all that happens.” He grins, sending you a wink as he nudges you with his elbow.
You look around the office, catching the eye of the man you despised the most, Lee Know. Or as everyone else in the office called him, Minho. He was an arrogant, self centered, short tempered, selfish and rude man. And for some reason, well not some, a reason well known, he was extremely popular among your co-workers. He was undoubtedly extremely attractive, with a sense of humor that everyone loved, except you. However, that didn't change his shitty attitude and even shittier work ethic, and yet he had the audacity to talk shit about you.
You had walked into the break room one day, when you had only been working there for a few weeks, and there sat Minho with his back to you while he spoke to a few other workers.
“She's just… well, she's fucking horrible at her job.” He chuckles. “I mean, sure she's nice, maybe? I dunno, I haven't really talked to her, but she sucks. She must have been hired for her tits and ass.” He says, laughing. The other workers try to hide their faces as he continues on. But surely he wasn't talking about you? You were hired around the same time as another girl, and this made your stomach sink. You weren't great yet but you were trying, and you hadn't had like a huge fuck-up. Only a few minor ones.
You tried your best to ignore it, since there was a chance he wasn't talking about you and you wouldn't be upset until it was confirmed. “Y/N needs to go. I don't know how she's still even here.” He sighs, glancing over to his left. “Rose, what are you doing this weekend?” He smiles, looking at the other newer girl.
“She's right behind you, man. Why do you have to be such a dick?” One of the men, Hyunjin tells him, getting up from his chair to come up to you.
“Don't listen to him. He barely has one brain cell that's even functioning.” Hyunjin chuckles, guiding you out of the break room. ever since then, you and Hyunjin had become very good friends, while that made you want nothing to do with Minho, and you avoided him for months as best as you could. Unfortunately for you, you were still close enough to hear about his weekends, which led you to finding out that he was the biggest playboy you had ever met. Monday mornings, he was always talking about his latest conquests from the weekend, making sure it was loud enough for you and others to hear, rarely got his own work done on time, and yet, somehow was still praised by management.
You were honestly shocked he hadn't been fired yet. If you were to do some of the exact same things he did, you'd be written up, but he was a god among you all, and that fueled your hatred for him even more.
“Hey, you wanna ride to the airport together?” Hyunjin asks, as you're both packing up for the day. You were all booked on the same flights, tomorrow morning at 9:00am but you weren't going to let Hyunjin go that far out of his way for you.
“That's sweet, but no thanks. It's too far, I'm just going to drive myself, my dad is going to pick up my car from the airport later tomorrow. I appreciate the offer though!” You smile.
“Well if you change your mind, let me know.” He smiles, leaving before you.
You finish grabbing your bag, turning off your computer and making sure you weren't forgetting anything. You make your way to the elevator, clicking the button as you wait for it to ding, you feel the presence of someone beside you. You glance over, seeing Minho standing beside you, impatiently tapping his briefcase.
“Did you even press the button?” He asks, pressing it again.
“What do you think? I'm not an idiot.” You snap.
“Woah.” He chuckles. “A little testy this evening, are we?”
“You ruin my mood with your presence.” You sigh.
“You hate me that much? What have I ever done to you, Y/N?” He asks.
“Oh yeah, I despise you.” You answer. The elevator opens, you push your way in front of Minho to get on first, pressing the close button in the hopes it would magically close right in his face.
“That's hurtful, Y/N.” He pouts. “I just wanna be friends.”
“I have enough friends.” You respond.
“What's one more?” He grins.
“Having you as a friend sounds like absolute hell.” You say.
“Good thing I don't actually want to have you as a friend. You're too uptight for my liking. Maybe if you loosened up a little.” He says. “You know what, probably not even then.”
The rest of the ride down is silent. You get off as soon as you can, speed walking towards the front doors so you can get away from him as fast as possible. That night when you got home you finished up your packing and went to bed early. You had to leave by 630am to get to the airport at a decent time before your flight, you were not going to miss it.
“No, no, no!” You whine, running as fast as you can towards your flight's gate. Your carryon suitcase barely hangs on behind you as you weave through the crowds of people standing around waiting. “Please… no.” You breathe as you reach the desk, slamming your boarding pass down on the top. Seconds later another boarding pass is slammed down next to yours but you choose to ignore it. You were here first and you desperately needed to get onto this flight.
“I'm…” You breathe, your chest heaving. “Here.” The lady smiles at you, opening her mouth to speak. “I'm so sorry.” She sighs. “You just missed it.”
“No! Please! I woke up late and was rushing to get…here! And then I got a flat tire on my way! I-I left my car on the side of the road… I had to hitch a ride the rest of the way!” You complain. “It hasn't even taken off!” You say, motioning to the plane that was now pulling away from the gate.
You let out a big sigh. “Are there any other flights going out later today or tomorrow?” You ask.
“Yeah I really need to be on that flight.” Someone beside you says. The voice was familiar. A little too familiar and you really fucking hoped it wasn't who you thought it was.
You look over and aggressively roll your eyes, seeing the man you worked with, that you absolutely despised.
“I'll be on any flight that he's not on.” You say.
“They’d leave you before they left me, right gorgeous?” He chuckles, sending the desk agent a wink.
“Unfortunately, you're both out of luck.” The lady says, giving you both a sympathetic look. “The next flight there isn't until next week.” She tells you.
“But I need to be there ASAP for a conference. It starts in 3 days!” you complain.
“So do I.” Minho huffs.
“No one cares about what you need to do, Minho!” You snap.
“You can always rent a car.” She suggests. You hang your head down. The last thing you wanted to do was drive for 3 days to get there but it seemed like at this point it was your only choice. When you look back up, Minho is already gone. You make your way to the car rental desk, getting in line behind Minho. A few minutes later the man at the desk walks away with his keys in his hand, letting Minho head up to the desk.
“Just to let you know.” The girl behind the desk starts. “We only have one car available.” She says, forcing a smile.
“I'll take it.” Minho yells, just before you. He turns around, giving you a grin, one that made you want to punch him in the face. “What are you gonna do, Y/N?” He asks, protruding his lip for a fake pout.
“You have nothing left?” You ask the girl, holding your hands together to beg her. You'd drop to your knees if you had too.
“Not until next week.” She says. Minho continues to rent the car, signing documents, giving his license, while you stood behind him, internally fighting with yourself. You could just miss the conference right?
You pull out your phone to call your boss, who answers on the second ring.
“Y/N. Are you on your way?” He asks.
“Well sir…” you say, clearing your throat. “I missed the flight. And unfortunately Minho got the last car rental.” You explain. “So I was wondering…” you begin before he cuts you off.
“That's perfect. Just go with Minho then. What's the problem?” He asks.
“Nothing sir. Just wanted to let you know what the plan was.” You say through gritted teeth.
“Excellent. See you in a few days.” He says, hanging up the phone.
Minho grabs his keys walking past you, without a care in the world. You grab his arm, which to your surprise is a lot more muscular than you had expected.
“Can I help you?” He asks, pulling his arm away from you.
“Can I….” You trail off into a mumble. Minho squints his eyes at you. “Huh?”
“Can I… get a….” You trail off into a mumble again.
“I'm sorry, what? Y/N, speak up. I can't help you if you don't talk to me.” He says, leaning his ear closer. “I'm not getting the question?”
“Can I get a ride with you?” You huff, rolling your eyes.
“See, that wasn't so hard was it?” He smiles.
“So?” You sigh. “Can I?”
“No.” He says, walking towards the parking lot.
“Come on! You talk shit about me! it's the least you can do.” You snap.
“Oh fuck. It was one time.” He says.
“That I know of.” You tell him.
“Just skip the conference.” He says, continuing to walk away.
“I would if I could. Mr. Johnson said to ride with you.” You tell him.
Minho doesn't respond, instead pulls his ringing phone from in his pocket, sighing loudly as he looks at the caller ID. “Hello?” He answers. “Yes sir. Of course sir. See you then, sir.” He finishes hanging up the phone.
He starts walking away, you stay still. Taking in deep breaths. You'd get this figured out. It would be fine. Everything always ends up being fine, right? As you turn to walk in a different direction, Minho turns his head to look at you. “Well let's fucking go, we don't have time to waste.” He snaps, continuing to walk. You smile to yourself as you follow him, but that smile quickly fades when you remember how long you're going to be stuck with him in the car. At least you'll get a break when you get your own hotel rooms.
“Rules for the car.” Minho starts, pulling out of the airport parking lot. “You're not allowed to talk. You're not allowed to touch the radio, you're not allowed to do anything. Okay? It's gonna be a long drive and I'm already annoyed.” He says.
You don't reply, instead just stare out the window, leaning your head back onto the head rest.
“Okay?” He says again, glancing at you.
“What?” You scoff. “You said I'm not allowed to talk.”
“Fucking take me now.” He groans, looking up at the sky.
The first few hours were fine. The hum of the radio filled the car and you slept off and on, but right now you needed to use the bathroom so fucking bad. You didn't want to break the rules but there was a gas station coming up, and if you didn't go you were going to burst.
“I need to pee!” You yell out, pointing to the station. Minho sighs as he pulls off onto the exit, pulling up to the pump. You exit the car as fast as your legs would take you, b-lining straight for the women's room.
A few minutes later, you emerge feeling like a brand new woman. You glance outside, expecting to see Minho waiting in the car but he's no longer parked by the pumps. Your head whips from left to right, and you can't see him. Your purse, your phone, everything you had was in that car and now panic was starting to set in.
Your chest starts heaving as you could barely catch your breath. You were turning in a circle, until you heard laughing. You look over, seeing Minho walking over.
“What the fuck are you doing?” He asks, eyebrow raised.
“I thought you left me.” You admit.
“I parked on the side because someone else needed the pump.” He says. “I've been waiting for you. Jesus christ, let's go.” He finishes, walking back the way he came.
Relief sets in as you follow him to the car. Yeah, you probably should have checked around the whole building, but it also would not have been completely out of character for Minho to just abandon you in some town. The two of you get back into the car, setting off once again. If you wanted to make it on time, you were going to have to drive for another 8 hours before stopping. Honestly, it couldn't get any worse. The silent car ride was killing you. You enjoyed talking to people, and even though the only person you had to talk to was Minho, you would have rather had that than not talking at all. But every time you tried to talk to him, he immediately shut you down, whether or not he verbally told you to shut up, or putting his finger to his lips, or putting up his hand to tell you to stop. After the third time, you just decide to give up.
Eight hours later, Minho pulls into the parking lot of a hotel, parking the car. You both get out, excited to stretch and crawl into your own beds and sleep before another long drive tomorrow. You both walk up to the front desk, each speaking with a different clerk.
“One room, one bed, please.” You smile at the man.
Minho points to you. “What she said.” He murmurs, letting out a yawn.
“I'm sorry.” The man smiles. “Unfortunately, we only have one room available for the night.”
“Whatever.” Minho sighs. “One room, two beds then.”
“No sir.” The man laughs. “My apologies for being unclear.” He smiles.
“We only have one room with one bed.”
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onsunnyside · 2 years ago
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Ok but like I could see JJ absolutely humiliating the reader while fucking her
are you in my head bc i've been thinking the same thing: i know jj is a softie but what if 🫣 we take a drive down the heartbreaker road ??
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mean!JJ: He's the kook's number one enemy, the local troublemaker, and always up to something with his pogue friends. You know all about his mischief-streak, and truthfully, you're scared of him since he pulled that gun on Topper. He's the kind of guy your friends warn you about, but you don't have any friends apart from Rafe, Topper and Kelce. They're the same group you've clung to since childhood, and now you proudly wear the kook princess crown.
You're so happy in your carefree bubble, following them around like a little pet. Everyone knows you're strictly off limits because the kook prince has a thing for you. No one would dare to test him or even think about you in a certain way... well, everyone but JJ.
"Oh, look at that, your boyfriend is calling you." He snorts, glaring at Rafe's contact photo glowing on the screen, "he's gonna have to wait."
You pull off with a lewd pop, saliva coating your lips and smeared down your chin, "he's not—he's not my boyfriend."
"That's not what everyone else thinks, and that's not what he's going around and saying either."
That catches you off guard, and your heart swells with hope as if you weren't on your knees blowing his enemy, "Rafe likes me?"
Oh, you were dumber than he thought.
"He's not gonna want you after this." JJ slips his ringed-fingers into your open mouth, prying your lips apart and spitting. The heavy dollop lands on your tongue and slides to the back of your throat. "You think he'll kiss you after sucking my cock? You think he'll even look at you knowing you fucked a dirty pogue?"
He sees the glee on your face transform to regret, your features melting into a sorrowful mess. If the music weren't so loud downstairs, he would surely hear your heart breaking.
With one hand, he jerks his length inches away from your face. His fist slides up the slick skin and he steps closer, effectively trapping you against the bathroom door.
"What's with the waterworks, baby?" He'd be lying if he said your tears didn't make him rock hard. It was your fault for being so pretty when you cry, how could he resist you when you look that good?
"I-I've liked Rafe for so long... I didn't know he liked me back." And now look at you. JJ was right, Rafe wouldn't speak to you ever again if he found out.
"What do you know, hm?" The blond chuckles, meanly slapping your cheeks with the tip of his cock. The messy trails of pre cum are only a mockery of your tears.
"JJ, wait—" You try to turn away, but his foot slides between your thighs, the worn leather of his boot pressing up against your wet panties.
"Do you think they keep you around for your brains? Oh, sweetheart, I hate to break it to you but you've got none."
There it is again, the delicate pout on your lips and that expression of pure despair. He wishes he could take a picture, and forever memorialize your misery. Maybe even send it to Rafe for his own sick entertainment.
JJ shifts his foot, grinding along your clothed core and rubbing your swollen clit. The cry you let out is not only from sadness but also pleasure.
Your mouth falls open in a moan and he takes the opportunity to slip back in, the bulbous head hits the back of your throat and slides deep. Your eyes shoot open and you quickly brace your hands on his hips, but it's no use. He pushes forward until his full sack hits your chin and groans loudly when your throat tightens.
"Atta girl, who knew the kook princess was a cockslut?" His tone drops and his hips build a pace, it's slow but thorough.
He's so thick, your lips burn at the corners as you struggle to take him from tip to base, again and again. Sloppy noises fill the bathroom, your choked moans silenced by the fat head of his cock hitting the back of your mouth with every thrust.
"You wanna know—fuck, something else, baby?" JJ grunts through clenched teeth with his palms on either side of your head, his thumbs digging into the tear-and-spit-covered flesh of your cheeks, "he likes you, but that ain't gonna stop him from fucking someone else tonight. So you should stop the weeping and do the same."
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sheisjoeschateau · 1 year ago
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“Oh, so do WE love Steve…” | Part VIII
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⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ SERIES MASTERLIST ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆
Steve Harrington x Bauman!fem!reader enemies to lovers, heavy angst, hurt/comfort, upside down mayhem, S2-S4, post S4 universe hot-take, end-of-the-world / dystopian setting, ugly fights turned smut (...but with hella plot). 18+
CHAPTER VII WARNINGS/NOTES: t.w.'s - strong language, more angst, mentions of death, injuries, Max in a coma, fearful tears, shared sadness, end-of-the-world terror talk, tough conversations and brutal honesty, jealousy and regrets. 18+
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Not a super action packed chapter, but we unpack a lot in this one. Sh*t gets addressed that needs to be addressed. Dr. Owens delivers some hard news. Robin to the rescue, big time, for her platonic soulmate with a capital P. Platonic Stobin in full swing. Eddie still has no chill, but is the zany friend that everyone needed. Eddie & Robin bonding. Argyle becomes a therapist. Nancy faces some hard truth. Jonathan faces harder truth. Jopper being the ever-observant grandparents. Murray being Murray. Steve and Bauman Squared are more in love than ever. And the kids? Little legends.
ANOTHER LONG ONE. AGAIN: PROOFREAD UNTIL MY EYES BLED. IF THERE ARE STILL TYPOS, SORRY BOUT IT. 18+
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“Dislocated the shoulder, but no break.  Popping it back into place isn’t going to be a picnic, but it’s way better than a break.  So we’re off to a great start.  Let’s take a look at your ribs now…”
Dr. Owens had you seated on the edge of the bed in Joyce and Hopper’s room downstairs.  Murray, Steve and Robin all stood nearby, alongside them.  They all watched anxiously.
Argyle and Eddie were on kid/teen duty.  They made sure to keep them out of the room, which they managed to convince them of by going upstairs to sit with Max and read to her out loud. 
You hissed as Dr. Owens made contact with your ribcage, and he frowned.  “Possible fracture there.  Good news is, if they were broken, you’d be on the ground in pure misery.  They might even just be really badly bruised.”
You sighed.  “I’m good with that.
Murray felt both relieved and frustrated at the same time.  God, he hated doctors.  Especially ones who served as double agents for the government.  But Dr. Owen’s had more than proven himself to be trustworthy, so your uncle was putting up with him.  For your sake, especially.  You were basically the only kid he was ever gonna have.
“Best bet is to rest, ice them regularly and let them heal for about six weeks.”
You frowned.  “Not so good with that.”
“Welp, you’re gonna have to be,” your uncle told you.  Steve and Hopper nodded.  You huffed, and Steve was selfishly grateful to know that you would have no choice but to stay home and out of danger. 
“Alright, let’s check that heartbeat, shall we?” Dr. Owens asked with a smile.  He took out his stethoscope, placing the instrument inside of his ears and blowing hot air onto the cold circle that would be placed over your heart.  You brought the collar of your shirt down so that he could place it on your chest, and he listened closely while you waited. 
Dr. Owens' smile slowly faded, and a prominent crease began to form between his brows.  Robin clocked it, along with Steve.  Hopper tried not to react, but Joyce’s fidgeting definitely gave it away.
“W-what’s wrong?” Joyce asked, unable to help herself.
Dr. Owens just held up a finger, politely gesturing for them to wait.  You furrowed your brow, suddenly aware of the fact that something seemed to be the matter.
Steve swallowed, unblinking.  What now…
Murray was not happy at the tension in the air, looking over at Joyce anxiously. 
Dr. Owens eventually cleared his throat, pulling the stethoscope out of his ears with a deep inhale.  He looks at you kindly, eyes solemn.  You stare back, questioning. 
“Well, umm…it’s normal.  Not surprising, given the electric shock, but uh…your heartbeat’s not at its normal steady rhythm.”
Robin heard Steve suck in a breath, placing a hand on his forearm as they all looked at Dr. Owens. 
“Cardiac arrhythmias is normal in these cases,” he tells you. “A heart arrhythmia occurs when the electrical signals that tell the heart to beat don't work properly. The heart may beat too fast or too slow. Or the pattern of the heartbeat may be inconsistent.  A heart arrhythmia may feel like a fluttering, pounding or racing heartbeat. Some heart arrhythmias cases are harmless.  Most, in fact.”
“Well, what about this one?” your uncle asked, voice grave. 
Dr. Owens sighed.  “Too soon to tell,” he said apologetically.  “But it’s important that it remains monitored.”
“What do we do.” …Steve’s question sounded more like a statement, laced with worry and dangerously voice low. 
Dr. Owens looked at him sympathetically.  “I can get a prescription that will help.  An antiarrhythmic medication.  No surgery is needed unless it’s severe.  It might not be.”
“How can you tell?” Joyce asked, worriedly.  “I mean – what are the signs that we need to look for?”
“Fainting, chest pain, dizziness.”  Then, to you, “If you feel like the heart is fluttering, or leaping inside of your chest, definitely make note of it.  Scale it, 1-10, how bad it is.  Be honest with yourself.  Don’t tell yourself you’re more fine than not, and vice-versa.  Don’t let it panic you, but just…stay alert.”
Steve wanted to pull every single one of his perfect hairs out.  How the hell was that supposed to help?  What happens if you wound up passed out on the floor, dead before they would get you proper help?
“Yeah, but what if — w-what if —”
That's all that Steve could mutter.  Robin squeezed his forearm tighter, masking her own fear as she gnawed at her bottom lip relentlessly.  Murray stared at Dr. Owens, visibly upset.  Hopper looked pale, along with Joyce.
“How fast can you get us that medication?” Hopper asked, like a protective papa.
“I’ll get it to you tonight.  Maybe tomorrow morning,” Dr. Owens promised.  “I can bring as much as you may need.  Meantime, I’ll leave the stethoscope so that you can monitor the heartbeat.  Here, let me show you what to look for.”
Dr. Owens instructed Steve and Murray on how to monitor your heartbeat, and you ached as you watched Steve look consumed with dread as he did his best to keep it together and not freak out.  Hopper and Joyce took notes, too.  Everyone listened to your heartbeat, Steve most of all.
You took his hand.  “Remember, it’s still there,” you murmured to him softly.  He nodded, knowing you were right but still not content with the reality of things.  Robin gave you a sympathetic smile, grateful for you and your courage.
Then, you looked at Dr. Owens with gratitude.  “Thank you.  For being here, and…helping out.  I know you’re putting yourself on the line.”
Dr. Owens gave you a deeply appreciative look, along with Hopper.  He wrung his hands.  “Appreciate that, kiddo.  Truly.” 
Everyone went over the plans that would go into effect, given the mandate taking place in just a few short days.  Hopper mentioned that it might be best for Dr. Owens to seek shelter with them, if things went south for him — given his compromised identity as an accomplice to them vs. the government.  The doctor couldn’t argue that, saying he would think about it.  Steve and Robin mentioned to him that Eddie needed looking over as well, which he said he’d do before he left.
While the adults talked, Steve and Robin walked with you out the bedroom door.  You looked outside the living room windows, hating the thick cloud of infected air that had only gotten worse — seemingly overnight.  It was dense, congested with alternate dimension disease. 
“Seriously, hate that I can’t even get some damn fresh air,” you sighed.
“Last thing you need is bad air in your lungs,” Steve told you, his fingers reaching to massage the crown of your head.  You sighed, knowing that he was right. 
The kids heard you all walking out of the room, Mike and Lucas peeking their heads around the doorway leading into Max’s room upstairs.  They made for the stairs, followed by Dustin, Will and El, rushing towards you all.  Eddie and Argyle shouted after them, but they quickly rushed over to you. 
They swarmed you all with questions.  Is your shoulder broken?  What about your ribs?  Are you hungry?
“One at a time, kiddos,” Robin warned. 
“No broken bones,” Steve told them, “But possible fracture.  Ribcage.  So no bear hugs, no tackling, no…rough-housing.”
Mike cocked an eyebrow at him.  “Speak for yourself.”
Lucas smacked him.
“Thank you, Wheeler,” Steve said wryly.  Mike smirked.
“Also, we gotta keep watch over Bauman’s heartbeat,” Robin pointed out. 
El looked worried.  “How come?”
You gave her an assuring head rub before carefully pulling her in for a hug.  “Just a bit of an irregular heartbeat.  You know.  Given the shock and astral-planing and all.”
El held you tight, cautious of your ribs.  
“…guess this means no coffee then, huh?” you asked, depressed at the mere thought. Caffeine was no longer your friend.
“That is correct,” Steve told you with a light kiss pressed to your head, then El’s.  “Alright, kitchen everyone.  Breakfast.  Let’s go.”
“Bauman, we need to pop your shoulder back in place,” Dr. Owens hollered after you, and you dreaded the pain that awaited you.
Eddie made it downstairs with Argyle.  “I’ll fix up a feast, big boy,” he told Harrington, giving him a quick couple pats on the shoulder.  Then he squeezed your cheek.  “Keep that heartbeat in rhythm, sweetheart.  I’ll make you a sweet mixtape for inspiration.”
You chuckled deeply, appreciating his sense of humor deeply.  Even Steve did, shaking his head and grateful for the cooking assistance.  “Don’t kill my toaster, Munson.”
Steve walked back into the bedroom with you, holding your hand while you had your shoulder popped back into place.  It was gnarly.  Plenty of pain medication followed that, one that took your heartbeat into account.  It was bound to knock you out at some point, so Steve and Robin made sure to get you back into the kitchen for some food before you’d need to head back upstairs and knock out asleep.
Hopper and Joyce helped out by adding some pancakes, sausage and eggs to Eddie’s cereal bar.  Murray was already day-drinking.  Dr. Owens stayed behind to join you all, at the invitation of the adults.  Currently, he was going over notes that Hopper had given him in a seat next to Murray.
Argyle saw Jonathan round the corner – looking glum.  “Yooo, bro-cha-cho.  Purple palm tree delight?”
Jonathan blinked, slowly brought out of his trance.  He looked tired, head hung low.  Honestly, he looked like shit.  “Oh, uhh…maybe later.  Yeah.”  He gave Argyle a sad smile before sulking off towards the front door while pulling a bandana over his mouth and nose — leaving the house.
“YO, GIMME SOME.”  Eddie spoke with a mouthful of fruit loops.  “Air’s shit anyway.  Why not fry my lungs s’more?”
“Fry it with what?” El asked innocently.
Eddie swallowed the sweet cereal awkwardly.  “...candy.”
Steve rolled his eyes as he poured everyone a glass of juice, and Robin held back a snort with all the strength that she could muster while divvying out plates.
“Really lame, gross candy,” Hopper threw back over his shoulder while flipping pancakes.  He eyed Munson with a protective dad look on his eyes.
“The weird peanut butter smelling kind,” Murray added, reading a newspaper and gritting at the taste of his straight vodka.
“Thank you, Murray,” Joyce reprimanded him.
You were seated next to El and Mike, not allowed to help given your sharp shoulder pain and the medication beginning to sink in.  Steve placed your food in front of you, along with the kids’. 
“Fresh pot of coffee going on,” Hopper announced while cooking.
You sighed, turning to Steve.  “Baby, do you —”
You stopped, catching yourself.  But so did everyone else.  Too late now.
“...have…decaf…?”
Steve’s heart swelled, his cheeks flushing. 
Lucas and Dustin made eye contact, trying not to laugh or get giddy.  Mike and El did, too, along with Will.  All the kids were in on it now — thanks to last night’s impromptu sleepover in Max’s room, unbeknownst to the rest of the household.  The OG party knew the secret, but they also agreed (thanks to Dustin’s firm warning about Murray’s rampage last night) not to press either you or Steve about it yet.  Big emphasis on yet.
Robin poured syrup in slow motion, and Eddie bit back a shit-eating grin.  Argyle looked unfazed, though, dishing up a plate of food. 
Hopper was grinning down at the pancakes he was serving up, back turned to everyone still.  Joyce unabashedly looked like a very happy mama, as Murray’s eyes peeked over the newspaper gleefully.
“Yeah, baby, I do,” Steve said, shooting you a wink and moving to go get some.  You blushed at Steve’s returning the pet name.  Steve walked towards the large pantry, passing Nancy — who you saw was now standing in the doorway, having heard it too.  She looked tired, similarly to Jonathan.  You gave her a soft smile, which she reluctantly returned. 
Walking towards you, she asked in the smallest of voices —
“How're you feeling?...”
You could tell that something was wrong, wanting to ask but also not.  “Shoulder’s screaming, but not broken thankfully.  Just out of the socket, Dr. Owens’ popped it back into place.  I’ll be alright.  Thanks, Nance.”
She gave you a relieved, tight-lipped smile.  You gave her as soft a look as you could, and Mike chimed in to break the tension.
“Nancy, I swear, Jonathan’s gonna turn into a palm tree if he keeps blazing it up,” he snorts, the joke very ill-timed.  But Dustin’s chuckling, along with Lucas’s, keeps him in a state of oblivion.  Something flickers in Nancy's eyes, and to your surprise she chuckles too — humorlessly.  Darkly.
“Yeah.  You can say that again.”
…so she agrees with her brother’s joke?  Nancy moved to dish herself up a plate, expression bitter and her movements aggressive.   You felt bad and you didn’t even know why.
Mike definitely looked confused, along with his friends.  Will looked concerned, along with Joyce.  Mother and son made eye contact.
Steve returned, ready to make a pot of fresh decaf.  He brought an extra coffee pot with him.  Rich kid perks.
“Morning, Nance,” he acknowledged her, moving to make the coffee. 
Her heart seized, voice tight.  “Hey.”
Hopper made uncomfortable eye contact with Murray, who buried himself deeper into his chair with the newspaper.  He did not account for this sort of awkwardness when going on a rant last night… Hopper shot him a high-raised eyebrow while flipping another pancake.
Steve heated up the pot of decaf, taking a plate that Joyce dished up for him and moving to sit next to you.  Mike made room for him, not even questioning it.  That made Nancy scoop more than enough eggs onto her plate than necessary. 
Hopper clocked it.  “You, uhh…need some cheese, or…?” 
Joyce gave Hopper a disapproving look, old married couple behavior in full swing.  Nancy looked down at her plate, embarrassed.  “Oh…n-no, I’m —”
Nancy awkwardly moved to sit down at the table next to Dustin.  Robin gulped, knowing what this was all about.  Finally, everyone was seated at the table – aside from Steve, who stood to pour you a cup of hot decaf coffee before bringing it over to you.  You sipped it, eyes becoming hooded with exhaustion as the pain medication set in.  Steve scooted his chair closer so that you could lean on him if needed.  Nancy had to peel her eyes away, staring down at her food — playing with it, unable to stomach eating it now.
She couldn’t even be mad.  How could she?  What right did she have to be mad?  And who would she even be mad at?  You?  Steve?  Jonathan?
Herself.  She was mad at herself.
That’s what she realized last night, when she and Jonathan didn’t get a wink of sleep in their room.  They’d stayed up, hashing it out once and for all.  It was a hurricane of sadness, harsh truth and reality – all at once.  Words that had been left unsaid.  Feelings that had never been expressed.  Regrets, empty promises and words of disappointment.  All aired out like dirty laundry.  He had asked how long she’d been falling for Steve again, which she had countered by asking him how long he had been planning to dump her while he was in California.  Jonathan had been stunned into silence, asking how the hell she knew that and if she had spoken to Argyle.  Nancy’s eyes, filled with tears, had stared at him with the look of utmost betrayal.  “It was a hunch.  Until right now.”
Neither of them got closure that night.  Nearly 5 hours of back and forth, and it got them nowhere.  They went to bed angry.  Sad, heartbroken and lost.  But sleep didn’t find either of them.  Instead, they both stared in opposite directions — backs turned to one another in a shared bed.  The morning had re-ignited the argument whenever they heard Dr. Owens arriving, because when Jonathan had moved to get up, Nancy asked him bitterly: “need to go hide your stash?”  That started back up all sorts of hissed, whispered arguing.
“Nancy, where’d Jonathan go?” Joyce’s question, soft and a bit worried, rattled Nancy’s thoughts.
“He just…wanted to get some fresh air.”
Everyone was silent.  Dr. Owen’s looked up from his files.  “It’s really bad out there.  He really shouldn’t be breathing any of that in.”
Nancy grit her teeth, fork scraping across her plate and making Robin cringe at the jarring sound.  
Mike snorted as he ate more pancakes.  “His lungs are already in rough condition as it is.  Probably doesn’t even matter.”
Nancy narrowed her eyes down at her plate of toyed breakfast food, nauseas.  She nodded her head bitterly, speaking through gritted teeth: “Agreed.  What’s it matter?  Likely irreparable anyway.”
No one missed the double meaning behind that as she rose to stand and dump her plate into the trash.  She quickly made her way out of the room, knowing the damage was already done but not having it in her to care.  Nancy couldn’t get away fast enough.
Eddie looked so uncomfortable but also sympathetic.  He knew this was a result of last night, along with Robin.  They shared a quiet, concerned glance.  Mike and the kids were just confused.  What was her deal?
Steve’s brow was furrowed, along with yours — however, you were already feeling the medicine kick in so everything was starting to feel fuzzy.  Your fingers were wrapped around the hot cup of decaf, warming them.  You were wearing a few rings that Eddie had gifted you while in the upside down, and as Steve focused on them now he realized just how hot you looked wearing them.  He took in your slightly hooded eyes, moving to stand.  “Wanna go lie down?”
You nodded, excusing yourself and thanking Dr. Owens again.  He told you that he’d make sure to get the medication later today, then to Eddie — “Hey Munson, let’s go check on how those stitches are holding up, yeah?”
Eddie gulped.  He hated needles and doctor tools.
Robin smirked.  “Let’s go show him my handywork.”  They all moved off to the living room, followed by Hopper.
Joyce looked perplexed still, unsettled by Nancy’s exit.  She turned to Will, speaking softly, “Did Jonathan tell you anything?  Is something wrong?”
But Will shook his head, shrugging, just as confused and concerned.  “Nothing,” he whispered back. “I was gonna ask you that.”
The eldest and youngest Byers looked pensive, thinking.  Wondering.  Worrying.
Mike’s face was quizzical. “What do you mean?  Why would anything be wrong with them?”
An incredulous scoff from behind the newspaper made everyone turn in Murray’s direction.   The grouchy man just sipped on his morning cup of poison, minding his business — even though he stuck his nose in everybody else’s.  
Joyce’s eyes narrowed at the front page of the Hawkins Press.  Of course…
“Hey, Mur?”
Murray cringed at Joyce’s sugary sweet, all-knowing tone… Hesitantly, he lowered the paper by just barely an inch.  He internally winced at the motherly eyes that bore into his soul from the table.
“Wanna go help me start clearing out the basement?”
Oh my god, Joyce Byers is going to murder me in Steve Harrington’s basement.  
That’s all Murray thought while he set down his newspaper, swigged the last of his drink and followed her downstairs.  He began to mentally write his eulogy.
Hopper grunted, setting his fork down.  “Ahhh, geez,” he huffed, standing up to follow them.
The kids all eyed each other, left alone at the table — no adults or older teens in sight.  What the hell just happened?
***
Steve got you upstairs safely, tucking you into bed and making sure you had water at your bedside table along with a walkie so that you could signal for him if you needed anything.  It made you chuckle. 
“What?” he asked you, quizzically. 
You shook your head.  “Still wondering why you’re considered the mom?”
Steve shot you a wry look, no heat in his eyes.  You were already beginning to doze off, the better pain meds doing their thing – thanks to Dr. Owens. 
With a little shake of his head and fighting a smirk, Steve crouched to kiss your forehead, then your neck.
“Careful, Harrington,” you murmured sleepily.  “Don’t wan’g’my heart rate up.”
“Shush, I’m keeping it steady,” his lips murmured into your jaw.  You hummed in approval, feeling yourself beginning to drift off as his breathing tickled your neck.  Steve whispered that he loved you, and you faintly whispered it back as you fell asleep. 
Unable to contain himself, Steve placed his ear to your chest for a moment — listening to your heartbeat.  He frowned to himself, hearing the sporadic beat.  Thump.  Th-thump, thump.  Thump thump.  His throat started to burn, along with his eyes.  But your fingers gently scratching his head, ceasing as you finally fell asleep, kept his emotions at bay.
Steve reluctantly pulled himself a way, pressing a lingering kiss to your hand before making his way out of your bedroom door.
He jogged downstairs to meet with the adults again, checking on Eddie as he was finishing up with Dr. Owens.  The older man smiled at Steve.
“I gotta say, Harrington.  Your friend’s a natural caretaker.  Could be a nurse one day.”
Robin gave a smug grin.  “See?  I’m not just a band nerd.  Turns out, I’m a real geek.  A medical one, at that.”
Steve smirked back at her.  “Yeah well, hope you like blood and needles and guts.”
“Psh.  After the shit we’ve seen?” Robin scoffed.  “Think I can handle it.” 
“Touché,” Steve nodded.
“Speak for yourself,” Eddie grumbled.  “I never wanna see my own blood ever again.  I feel like a voodoo doll.  Vecna can suck my whole hairy ass.”
“Thaaaank you, Munson,” Robin cringed.  “Love that visual.”
“He can honestly suck mine, too.”
Dr. Owens muttering that was ten times more disturbing than Eddie.  The three teens were awkwardly quiet, aside from Eddie finally chuckling out of pity.  The older man didn’t even notice as he packed up his belongings.
“Alrighty then,” Dr. Owens said politely.  “Best be off.   I’ll be back tonight with the prescription for your lady.”
Steve blushed slightly at that, giving the doc a thankful nod.  
“Keep an eye on her,” Dr. Owen’s said kindly.  “She’ll be alright.  She’s a tough one.  Murray’s got one helluva soldier for a niece.”
“She’s bad to the bone,” Eddie reveled.
“Made of steel,” Steve agreed, fondly and voice soft.  But he nibbled at his lip, mind elsewhere.  He was still worried, and the doctor could tell.
“Just make sure she stays horizontal and lets those ribs heal.  That’ll do her heart some good.  And don’t fret.  I’ve seen way worse.”
Dr. Owens’ gave a firm pat and squeeze to Steve’s shoulder, hoping it would give him plenty of assurance. Steve gave him a quick, tight-lipped grin, pretending it helped.  Robin looked at her best friend worriedly. 
With that, Dr. Owen’s made his way out.  Hopper met him at the doorway, walking out with him.
“STEVE, WHERE’S THE PUDDING?”
Dustin’s sudden shouts from the kitchen made everyone jump.
“Jesus H. Christ —” Eddie hissed, clutching his heart.
“Henderson,” Steve exhaled, raking a hand through his hair as he turned to march towards the kitchen.  “I swear to god.”
“Lemme handle it,” Eddie huffs.  “Yo, BUTT MUNCH.  WE JUST HAD BREAKFAST.”
Stepdad of the year.
Steve would normally wave off the offered help, being the assigned mother of the group.  But even as the kids all made noise with Eddie, he found himself just…letting him take care of it.  He needed a break.  Needed to think.
“Steve, Joyce is asking where the keys to the basement breaker are,” Erica was asking him as she rounded the corner.
Steve blinked, nodding and wrapping his head around the request.  But Robin stepped in, sensing his internal overwhelm.
“I’ll get them,” she told Erica, shooting a quick look at Steve.  “Kitchen drawer, yeah?”
He nodded, sighing with relief.  Robin made her way there with Erica, and Steve took that as a chance at escape.  He could feel his chest tightening, breathing constricting a bit.  Yikes, he needed some air.  But that wasn’t an option either.  Best bet was the nearest empty room.  Max’s room was closer than his.  Steve quickly bound the stairs, pinching his nose and slipping into the room quietly — needing a moment, just a moment.
El walked out of the hallway restroom, right after Steve had closed the door.  She made for the stairs, heading down to find Hopper.  When he walked back inside from his chat with Dr. Owens, the two of them made for the basement — telling the kids to follow, while Robin told Lucas she would handle replenishing Max’s feeding tube upstairs.  She knew how to, since Dr. Owens had given strict intrusions to not only the adults but also to her.  She, along with you and Steve, knew how to handle it thoroughly.  Robin found herself oddly keen on helping people with the medical stuff.  It gave her a newfound sense of purpose.  She headed upstairs, pep in her step — who knows?  Maybe she’d found her calling, she wondered to herself.
She opened Max’s door, freezing when she found Steve on the other side of it.  Her heart sank.
Her best friend stood leaning against the wall to the right of the door frame — facing Max’s bed.  His face was scrunched, pained.  
“Steve…” Robin murmured, heartbroken.  She quickly shut the door, locking it and placing a hand on his shoulder.  The sight of a tear-track on his face, glistening in the gloomy natural light of the room, made her frown.
Steve looked at her for all of a millisecond, feeling caught but unable to stop now.  His emotions were definitely catching up with him, and Robin wasn’t surprised — given just how long he’d been keeping shit in.  She’d known for a while now: Steve Harrington needed a good, long fucking cry.  She watched him pinch the bridge of his nose, his pretty face crumpling even more and shoulders shaking as he bit down on his lip hard. 
“Steve, hey, it’s just me,” she whispered kindly, hugging and rubbing his shoulders while resting her chin there.  He kept as much noise trapped inside of his throat as possible, mainly just letting it all come out through a quiet flow of steady tears as he stood tensely.  He gratefully clasped onto one of Robin’s hands — with the one hand he wasn’t holding to the bridge of his nose with, willing the tears to stop.
“You’re really overdue for this,” Robin nudged him gently, squishing her cheek deeper into the curve of his shoulder.  “Seriously, I’ve been wondering when the hell you were gonna let it all out…”
Steve coughed on what seemed to be half a laugh, half a sob.  He was frustrated with himself.  With everything.  Your heart is failing you now and maybe forever.  Max is still in a coma.  His loved ones are all in danger.  His kids can’t catch a break.  His parents left.  Hawkins is basically dead.  And the upside down just gets closer, no matter how many gates they’ve closed over the last 3 years.
SO YEAH.  Robin was right.  Steve needed to fucking cry.
She stood there with him for a little while, letting her presence comfort him and not pushing.  Steve really did hit the jackpot with her in the best friend department.
“Sometimes, I wonder if she’s still there.”
Steve’s voice was thick, low and vibrating the room.  Robin knew who he meant, following his gaze.  Max.
Robin hummed.  “Trust me.  That little firecracker is very much alive and can’t wait to tear into all of us with her redheaded temper and sarcastic wit.”
If Robin had been looking at him, she would have seen the corner of Steve’s lips quirk up briefly in amusement.  She was right, of course.
“Think she knows?” Robin asks softly, still leaning onto Steve.  “About…anything?”
She felt Steve take a deep breath, exhaling deeply as he rubbed his face.  “M’not sure,” he murmurs, thoughts grim.  “Honestly, I hope not.  That’d mean she’s still trapped in there.  Somewhere dark.  Vile, and awful.”
Robin shuddered at that, hating the thought.  She decided to ask something different.  Lighter.
“Think she knew you were head over heels for a girl you swore you couldn’t stand?”  She turned her head on Harrington’s shoulder so that she was looking up at him with teasing eyes and a wiggling brow.  “Vowed to hate, forever and always, cross your heart and hope to die?”
Steve shook his head, beginning to grin.  He looked at Max the whole time while doing so, imagining his little sister/daughter figure giving him hell for falling for you but completely loving it.  Because while he knew that Max loved him — that little shit loved the hell out of you.
Steve’s frown suddenly returned, face crumpling all over again.  It broke Robin’s heart as she watched fresh tears fill his eyes, which he trapped from falling by quickly scrunching his eyes shut again and digging the heels of his palms into them.  It made Robin want to bawl.  But she held it together for Steve’s sake, lifting her head to turn and hug him tight.  She shushed him softly, desperate to calm him.  Comfort him, assure him.
Steve sunk his teeth into his bottom lip, forbidding his cries to make noise.  He couldn’t.  Not right now.  He could scream into a pillow later.  Right now, he just let Robin hold him until he got it together again.
Eventually, Steve pulled back — swiping at his eyes and nose, sniffing hard.  Robin looked at him sadly, rubbing his arms and letting him steady his breathing.
“Jesus, Robin, a heart arrhythmia…”
Robin had a feeling that was what was weighing heavily on Steve’s mind.  You, and your newly failing heart.  It made her upset, too.  Deeply upset.  It worried her sick.  But she couldn’t let Steve sense that.  Not right now.  She needed to be there for him — and by extension, you.
“We’re gonna steady it, Steve,” Robin promised, voice low but fierce.
Steve shuddered a sigh, eyes downcast and mind racing as he carded his fingers through his hair.  “It’s the end of the fucking world and all our heart rates are already on edge as it is —”
“So we keep her here,” Robin interrupted, gently.  “Out of harm’s way, as best we can.  We don’t let her put herself in a position to freak out.”  She paused, thinking.  “Yknow, come to think of it, Bauman’s probably the coolest outta all of us big kids.  Pretty sure that chick has freaked out the least.”
Steve rolled his eyes fondly.  Oh, you.  “Yeah, because she’s a fucking sociopath like her uncle.”
Robin genuinely laughed at that, unable to help it.  Steve smiled, too.  But a few tears met the smile and the breathy laugh he let out.  Robin thumbed them away sweetly.
“She’s great,” Robin told him.  “Really great.  Stupid great.  Maybe my favorite lady I’ve had the pleasure of meeting.  Aside from Vicki.”
Steve sniffed.  “You tryna steal my girl?”
Robin cocked an eyebrow, happy to hear him teasing.  Good, it’s working.  “Oh, so she is your girl now, huh?  Exclusive, off-limits?”
Steve bit back a big, bashful smile — looking at her almost shyly and nudging her foot with his shoe.  He turned to look at Max, nodding in her direction.
“Think she’d approve?”
Robin looked at the sleeping girl, too.  She smiled sadly.  “Depends.  Of you two as a pair?  Yeah.  You’re mom and dad.  As far as she’s concerned, neither one of you has anyone else out there deserving of you both.  So I’d assume she feels you guys deserve each other more than anyone else deserves either of ya.”
Steve actually smiled at that, eyes sparkling as he looked at Max.  He took a minute to take in her still form, thinking back to when he first met her with the kids.  She was a badass.  You’d have thought she’d been fighting monsters all her life.  She actually took better to the whole upside down shit than he had, whenever he went over to Jonathan Byers’ house to apologize then got roped into all the madness.  He had to give it to her: Max was hardcore.
“I really need this shithead to wake up,” Steve chuckled humorlessly.
Robin did, too, squeezing his arm as she shook her head at Max’s sleeping face hooked up to a breathing tube.  “When she does…it’ll be a helluva reunion.”
Steve liked that.  When.
“And whennn your girl gets her strength back,” Robin continued, “along with her ribs back in tact, you know…given you, Byers and Munson took her to pound town…”
Steve made a face.  “Gross.  Don’t say that, no.”
“Damn, Harrington, get your head outta the gutter,” Robin popped her hip into Steve’s side.  “Even when I’m being serious, talking about resuscitation — not sex…you’re still jealous…at a hypothetical.”
Steve gave her a wry look, but then placed his cheek on top of her head as he looked at Max.
“As I was saying…” Robin murmured, a smile in her voice.  “When your girl is back up to speed, she will give you all the heart attacks to make up for it.  You won’t be able to stand her guts but you’ll be so in love with her it won’t matter.  And then Max will wake up…give you two shit for it…then be a mess of joy because the two babysitters turned enemies have suddenly become lovers.”  Robin paused, smiling to herself.  “And I’ll be the happiest, proudest, most sappy-go-lucky best friend in the world.”
Steve breathed a sigh at that, content.  It brought him peace in this moment — the idea of you, perfectly fine and all in one piece.  The idea of his kid waking up, her memory still intact along with her sarcasm and quick wit.  The idea of his best friend being so happy to see him so happy.
He threw an arm around her, and the two best friends just stood there for another several moments to revel in the quiet of it all — allowing themselves to dream.  Allowing themselves to believe.
***
Meanwhile, Eddie definitely did not feel guilty for having eaten the last 3 puddings that Henderson had selfishly stashed for himself.  Little bro’s just gonna have to cope, he thought to himself as he jogged up the stairs.  
He almost broke into song, Master of Puppets rambling on inside his head -- but stopped himself when he heard voices.  Tense voices. 
Eddie’s pace came to a slow, and he became not only more aware of his steps — but the voices, too.  Where they were coming from…to whom they belonged…
"So he was then. He was going to break up with me."
"Listen, I...I realllllllly don't wanna...speak outta term here..."
Only one guy under this roof talked that slowly, and only one lady under this roof spoke with that crisply.
Argyle and Nancy.
"Look, just -- tell me exactly what he said."
"That is what he said, man, I swear..."
Eddie could hear Nancy huffing exasperatedly. For a rich family, Steve's parents' house had some really cheap, thin doors...
He crept closer, still standing a few paces down. Just in case he needed to bolt, should someone catch him listening in -- or in case one of the two speaking on the other side of the door barged out of the room. Eddie listened, his senses on high alert and his curiosity burning.
"Then he was going to break up with me -- God, I knew it. I just knew it!"
Wait, Eddie thought. Jonathan was going to break up with her...? And Argyle knew...? But then...wait, then how did Nancy...?
"Look, Nancy," Argyle was sighing, sounding pretty worried despite his usual lackadaisical tone. "He didn't want to, alright? I'm a bro. I know when a brother's down bad, he was just freaking himself out, you know -- because of where you wanna go to college...where he wants to go to college..."
"Oh, that is so NOT an excuse."
"Which is whyyy I told him to talk to you --"
"Then why didn't he. Huh? Why didn't he??"
Eddie gulped. He could hear the genuine hurt and betrayal in Nancy's voice. Sheez, Byers was in for one helluva fight...
"Honestly, I'm asking myself that too, Nancy," Argyle was huffing this out, matching her energy. Even he sounded exasperated with his best bro. "But I'm also remembering that...like...that creepy Vecna dude kinda threw off everybody's groove. I mean -- I came to pick them up from the house and it was all getting shot up and stuff, liiiike...shit kinda hit the fan...you know...?"
"That's...still, that's not..."
"Annnnd you guys were all caught up in the shit going down back in Hawkins, man...you know? Chrissy, and...that coworker of yours, annnnd...that other random dude who hung out with... shiiiit, what was his name...? Jake...?"
"Jason," Nancy muttered lowly.
"That guy."
"Look -- Argyle." Nancy huffed again, flustered at life but regaining her edge. "Upside down stuff aside, Jonathan still took the time to talk this out with you. Not me, you. For weeks."
There was an awkward pause before Argyle spoke.
"...yeah, that's pretty bad..."
"He could have called. He could have written me. He could've, he could've, he could've. But he didn't."
"Why didn't you tell him that?"
"...what?"
Oh shit, Eddie gulped.
"Whenever we all got back here," Argyle explained. "Back in Hawkins. Why didn't you confront him about it?"
Another awkward silence.
"...I..." Nancy stumbled.
"Why didn't you go up to him, call his ass out, and call him out for not talking to you?" Argyle was suddenly sounding pretty sure of himself. It was out now character for him. Oddly? It suited him.
"I...I..."
Meanwhile, Nancy was uncharacteristically not sounding sure of herself.
Argyle gained speed.
"Think about it! You say you knew something was off...you say he was giving you mixed signals...you say he got back and suddenly acted like everything was fine, but that you sensed things still were not fine...so then why let it go? Why not tell him yourself? You're a loud woman."
"Whoa, what?" Nancy stuttered.
"You are!!! That's a compliment! You're loud and proud. You wear the damn pants. You have a gun collection. You don't hold back, even if you don't say fully what it is that you mean. Your poker face is shit."
"Argyle...!"
"You've been avoiding it too, Nancy," Argyle cut her off.
At this point, Eddie was frozen as he listened. Damn. When did Argyle become a therapist?
Clearly, Nancy was asking herself the same thing. Because it was quiet. Severely quiet.
Eddie started tracing shapes into the carpet with his mind while he stared at the ground, waiting to hear more dialogue. But it was crickets.
Finally, he heard Argyle sighing deeply. "Maybe if you both just...I dunno, man...listened to each other. Like...heard one another. You both just keep using whatever it is that you ask each other to like...one up each other...and it doesn't get either of you anywhere, man... Just hear each other out."
A tap on Eddie's shoulder made him flinch back, nearly jumping out of his skin. He whipped around to see Robin, staring at him with wide eyes. She held a finger to her lips.
Eddie couldn't believe that he managed to keep the scream trapped inside of him. He sagged with relief, heart pounding and silently pantomiming strangling her. Don't scare me like that. Her head bobbed back and forth as he shook her by the shoulders, and together they realized that they were both in on the secret:
Nancy and Jonathan are not alright.
Together, they softly crept down the hallway into Steve's bedroom. As Robin closed the door, Eddie whirled around to speak in a hissed whisper.
"Holy shit, what the fuck, this is like a soap opera --"
"Shhhhh," Robin hissed back, swatting at him to keep quiet.
"I'm literally whispering."
"And spitting."
"Sorry."
They continued whispering through gritted teeth, relieved to have each other to confide in. Eddie and Robin were beginning to feel like the zany aunt and uncle of the group who knew too much about everything going on around the house. It bonded them for sure. They knew about you and Steve, which also became a topic of whispered conversation right now as they sat cross-legged on the floor of Steve's bedroom.
"Sorry, but can we talk about how off we were trying to push Wheeler back on Harrington?" Eddie's eyebrows were raised practically to the top of his hairline.
Robin scoffed at themselves, shaking her head. "I'll say..."
"It was right there under our noses and we just..." Eddie moved his hand in a straight line, "...breeeeezed onnnnn past it."
"Yeah, but honestly?" Robin whispered eagerly. "I thought Bauman hit a sore spot that could never be repaired. Steve seriously was in love with Nancy. Like, really in love."
Eddie chuckled lowly, shaking his head. "Trust me. I said the same thing. To his face directly, while we were in the upside down. Told him that what Wheeler did -- diving into the lake after him -- was the most unambiguous sign of true love I'd ever seen in my life." He paused, thinking. "But what I failed to realize was that...it was Bauman who freaking lunged for him first on the boat. And the way he clung to her hand, despite also looking mad at her for doing that --"
Eddie was reliving the memory, realizing something. Robin was, too.
"He was mad that she put her life on the line," Robin nodded along, slowly stitching together his thoughts.
"But it was just so fast," Eddie pointed out as he agreed. "Literally, one moment Harrington's back to the surface, getting ready to hop back on the boat. Next, he's being tugged down by that -- that thing... And Bauman just -- lunged for him. And he grabbed her hand, but the look he shot her?... It was so...conflicted..."
Robbin nodded, swallowing hard. "Like he grabbed her hand back gratefully, but also hated what she'd just done to herself by putting her life on the line."
"Which is whyyyy," Eddie continued, figuring it all out. "Whenever she got dragged underneath with him, and the two of them went at it -- bickering like crazy when we all got down there with 'em and fought off the bats...he was so mad at her. And she was mad that he was mad."
Robin scoffed a laugh, pace palming. "And all we saw was Nancy diving in after him --"
"After Bauman already beat her to it," Eddie muffled into his palms. “Duuuuude, they’re so in love. Been love. Unambiguously in love.”
"We are idiots," Robin giggled, face palming.
"Not as big as they are, though," Eddie corrected, snorting. They both snickered like big kids into their hands, trying to keep quiet.
Eddie finally sighed, thinking fondly. "Those two are actually stupid fucking adorable."
Robin smiled wistfully. "Yeah. Yeah, they are." She bit her lip, thinking. "Honestly, I've...I've never seen Steve this torn up."
She told Eddie how worried she was for her best friend. How worried she was for you. How desperately she wished that all of this would go away. How she prayed that Max would wake up, and that Vecna would choke on his own guts and that the upside down would cease to exist.
Eddie nodded, eyes solemn as he gnawed on his cheek. "I wish I could've known Chrissy better."
Robin's brows pinched together. She could see the genuine remorse -- maybe even regret -- in Eddie's eyes. Had there been...feelings there...?
"Wish that I'd..." Eddie mumbled, eyes on the ground searching for the words. "That I'd just...I don't know. Tried to notice, or care about something other than living in my own world all the time."
Robin gave his hand a squeeze, shooting him a synaptic tight-lipped smile. Eddie squeezed her hand back, gratefully.
"You're doing that now," Robin reminded him softly. "Chrissy sees that."
Eddie looked at her, his eyes going glassy. He looked like a sweet puppy when he got emotional. Robin noted just how wholesome that was as she placed her other hand on top of theirs.
"We seriously need to kill this son of a bitch," Eddie whispered, angered anguish briefly flashing in his dark eyes.
Robin nodded fiercely. "We will."
They took a few moments to just be in silence, letting it all land.
A light knock at the door broke through the tranquility of the silence, concluding the tender moment. Eddie and Robin looked at Steve's bedroom door, taking a second before Robin rose to answer it. Eddie figured that was best, given she is the platonic soulmate of the room's owner.
Neither of them were sure what to expect exactly, as far as who was on the other side of the door. Robin half expected it to be Steve himself. Eddie's expectations looked a lot like one of the kids.
So when they saw Jonathan standing on the other side, that made them all go stiff.
He still looked awful. Eyes rimmed red from exhaustion, a little bloodshot. His hair was messy, not sure how to sit on his head. These days, Jonathan looked haggard. While he was never the pretty-boy type, Jonathan was always good looking in a moody, brooding sort of way. The unconventionally attractive type. Lately? He just looked worn down, tired and a little bit like a bum. Definitely not the type of guy you would expect Nancy Wheeler to be going steady with, given how polished and precise she is. Opposites attract, but at this rate the two of them were becoming contrasts of one another.
"Hey," Jonathan said softly, timidly. He looked caught, but so did Robin and Eddie as he looked at both of them.
"Hey," they awkwardly repeated.
After a long, awkward, pregnant pause, Jonathan finally cleared his throat and gave his legs a little pat -- as if that might help break the tension.
"Is uhh, is Steve here?"
Robin shook her head. "No, he's with Bauman. I told him to go take a nap, since Dr. Owens got her so early and I know he's not sleeping."
Jonathan's eyes softened, looking sympathetic and giving her a light nod. He scratched his neck. Eddie clocked some weird sort of guilty glint in his eye. Like something was really on his mind and he needed to get it off his chest. There was almost an anxious twitch to him.
Eddie began to realize that he knew what this was about. About why Jonathan was looking for Steve, and why he looked so glum. So anxious.
Because Eddie was there that day. When you fell. When you died. When Jonathan tried to step in and bring you back, before Steve was finally able to step in. Eddie was there, watching it all happen. He watched Steve fall apart, fraying at the seams. He watched Jonathan exhaust himself with the attempted CPR. He watched how it completely exerted him, no doubt thanks to the lack of decent nutrition and lung damage that was due to the purple palm tree delight. That had to have to have set Jonathan's lungs on fire, as he desperately tried pumping air back into your lungs. Eddie had watched Jonathan lean back, only for Steve to verbally tear into him.
DON'T YOU DARE FUCKING STOP.
IT'S NOT WORKING, IT'S TOO LATE.
NONE OF US GAVE UP ON YOUR BROTHER. FUCK YOU, BYERS. FUCK YOU.
The storm of words between Harrington and Byers was no doubt long overdue. That was evident with every single word that Steve spat at Jonathan, and every word that Jonathan bitterly wept. Both men had shrieked at each other, shrill and angry and hurt.
Eddie had watched as they both went at it, Steve lashing out and Jonathan feebly fighting back. He might not have been close with them in high school. He might have run in completely different circles than them. He might not have known anything about the two of them, or what sort of crucial role they played in each other's lives, or how the upside down not only existed but also forced them to merge worlds. But fast forward to yesterday, when you were dead at everyone's feet and no one knew if they would save you -- Eddie saw 3 years of unspoken words go flying between Steve and Jonathan. He watched it all unfold, ugly and loud and anguished.
Because while Steve might have found some sort of silent (albeit avoidant) peace that he inwardly had made with Jonathan Byers, his bitterness was still there. Festering, festering, festering...never truly unloading itself whenever he projected onto you.
Because you hadn't taken Nancy away. Jonathan had.
Maybe that's partly why Steve got so livid with Jonathan. Because he could now. Now that you were gone, or so they'd thought, he had no choice but to scream at Jonathan. To finally let him have it.
FUCK YOU BYERS. FUCK YOU.
Steve had screamed that in Jonathan's face, voice wrecked from angry tears and shrieks of pure fear. It was fucking personal.
And Jonathan had taken it. Like he deserved it. Because maybe a part of him did. Maybe, just maybe, a big part of him did. Not because he wasn't a decent guy. Hell no, Byers was a great dude. He had just...lost his way. And that was fine. But really, he wasn't as present as usual -- given his more frequently ~high~ state, and his newfound friendship with Argyle. That wasn't a bad thing. It just...changed things.
Eddie had watched Byers go from the super observant, introverted wallflower to a nonchalant, low-key absent-minded, slightly lazy guy. Not nearly as driven as before. Not that he was ever this super academic, wildly driven type to begin with. Still, there had been something more to Byers prior to now. Something alive. Lately? Byers looked like he was simply surviving. Doing just a bit more than the bare minimum to get by.
Meanwhile, Steve had grown exponentially. He'd gone from being an entitled, snobbish rich kid who made C's and D's to a street-smart hero who knew how to protect and care for both kids and his friends, along with being trusted by the adults involved in all of these terrifying circumstances. He wasn't the teacher's pet growing up, but he certainly was the favorite now. He was Steve Harrington: bad boy turned supermom/superboy. He wasn't quite superman. He'd lost the girl, because Lois Lane had chosen Bruce Wayne over him. But along the way, he'd unexpectedly fallen for Gotham City's badass princess who floated under the radar until she found her way into the circle of Hawkins Heroes -- the upside down underdogs. Steve was strong, he was loyal and he was true.
So that afternoon next to the electric fence, those two men were having a 3-year standoff without even truly acknowledging it. It was bound to blow up in their faces at some point. And you had been the catalyst.
Eddie took all of that in by looking at Jonathan Byers as he stood in Steve Harrington's doorway, looking into the eyes of the former jock's best friend and his new unexpected friend of a metalhead.
"When he's up...I need to speak with him."
Jonathan's voice shook a bit, nervously. But he made eye contact with both Robin and Eddie. His eyes were sincere, remorseful and eager. "Please."
***
:) thank u all for reading. thoughts on this chapter? guesses as to what might go down? TAGLIST: @xprloki @erastourvip  @get0ut0fmyr00m @Eddiemuns0nl0ver @marrowfrog00  @poppet05 @wiltedflowersundertowers  Originalthingparadise Pleuviors pumpkinonice Ihaveproblemsihaveproblems Brinleighsstuff Definitelynotherr sucker-4-angst notlilyyyy
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ilovetoxicfictionalmen · 11 months ago
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RUNAWAY FROM ME - CHAPTER 1
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Pairing - Tommy Shelbly x oc
Summary - Deirdre ran from her life of misery for her own safety. However, she managed to run back into the arms of an angel she once knew, now known as The Peaky Blinder Devil. In which he has no intentions of letting her run away from him again.
Warnings - Dark content, noncon, dub con, explicit themes, lovers to enemies to lovers, slow burn kinda, Tommy needs a hug.
Word count - 5.2k+
Notes - First chapter complete woohoo. Thoughts highly appreciated. And let me know if I should make a tag list.
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CHAPTER 1
Arrow House, Warwickshire - Morning, July 23rd 1924
She was in his dreams. Or as he believed to be nightmares. Teasing him of her immaculate beauty that he so desperately longed to forget. In Tommy’s visions, he was running after her, chasing her like his life depended on it. But she was running in slow motion, the way that her silk brunette hair bounced in line with her steps. But Tommy could feel his heart pound in his chest, his throat dry as he was panting after her. So desperately trying to catch up to her. Right when he’d think he’d finally catch her, the light would shine brightly and she’d disappear. 
Every morning, Tommy woke up alone. He laid there, only for a few minutes reflecting on his inner demons conjured in his sleep. Every morning, he woke to the torturous hardness in his lower region. However, he refused to touch himself, refused to pleasure himself in the memory of her. 
It all started in the hospital. Tommy thought he was dead. All because he saw her charm, the sight that he had longed for, even after all of these years. She looked like an angel, her luscious hair rested on her shoulders as her light brown eyes blinked to him. His body missed her, but his mind, oh how it still despised her. That’s how he knew he wasn’t dead. Because he didn’t feel that warmth to see her again, to think of her. 
Somehow, she pushed him through his recovery. This urge to want to heal so he could finally take the journey to find her. In his hallucinations, he was back in the tunnels, face covered in dirt and smoke as he was crawling in hopes to finally reach her. Tommy heard her call his name down the hole. As if she needed him to save her. In his sleep, he called her name over and over again. “Deirdre…” It left him a desperate man who took morphine to numb his thoughts rather than his physical trauma. 
Tommy sat on the edge of his king size bed, his fingernails ran through his scalp, brushing over his healing stitches as he mumbled to himself, shaking his head lightly. He stood up and looked out the window, across the greenery of his estate. 
His wife had been shot. She took a fucking bullet for him. Tommy was still grieving, everyone knew so but wouldn’t dare to speak a word to him. There was no one else Tommy blamed but himself, his lifestyle killed a good woman, the mother to his only child. A woman that made him feel like a better person. Somebody that made him forget of his past affection, which was a dagger dug deep into his back. 
And how was he mourning her now? By getting fucking hard by his vex. By the woman that broke him, changed him into a monster that many now fear. She destroyed his happiness, and now he wished to never feel such emotion again. The woman that was a wolf in sheep’s clothing. She was the only person that Tommy showed his complete vulnerability to, he gave her all that he had, and how did she fucking repay him? Everytime he thought of her, it urged his desires to make her atone for her failures to honor him. 
Tommy changed into his suit and headed downstairs into his office as he slid his pistol into his holster. Polly was sitting by his desk, a cup of hot tea in hand as she turned her head to him. 
“Polly, what brings you here?” Tommy asked as he reached his desk for some forms in the draw. 
“Just checking up on you Tommy” she replied, a content look on her face.   
Tommy hummed with a nod as he stood behind his desk. He debated if he should tell Polly of his dreams, wondering if she’d be able to help him. But the thought of mentioning her name again, after all of these years lit the cold hearth in his body. 
Polly gave him a knowing look and Tommy couldn’t help but to mentally grin. He slid the papers inside of his pocket. 
“I’m dreaming of the past Polly” Tommy disclosed emotionlessly. 
A raise of the eyebrow. “Which past?”
His stern expression didn’t flinch at her act. “You know what I’m speaking of” Tommy responded as he lit himself a cigarette. 
“Yes, I do” Polly confessed. 
“Well?” 
“She’s always been by your side Tommy, even though you turn your head from her. Keep your ears blocked from her cries” Polly sighed, looking hopeful in his doubts. 
“Because she so ever deserves my help” Tommy empathized, shaking his head. “She distracts me. Weakens me in my most vulnerable state. Why Pol?” Tommy asked, leaning towards her, his hands on his hips. 
Why did she come back to haunt him so menacfully now? After all of this time, why did she choose to torment him when he has so much on the line? For his business, his family, his future, his son. A part of Tommy hoped that she was dead. But feared that he would never be satisfied if he couldn’t find her. 
“Perhaps she needs you” Polly suggested, a slight shrug of the shoulders. The thought of Tommy doing such an act angered him.
“Fucking-” Tommy muttered, shaking his head at the thought of her.
“Where are you going?” She inquired. 
“To London. My brothers and I feel an urge to celebrate my recovery. It is our last night of freedom before we bury ourselves into this job” Tommy explained as he walked out of the room. “And tell her to get out of my fucking head!” Tommy shouted, shaking his head at the thought of her. 
“Perhaps you’ll be able to say it to her yourself” Polly mumbled to herself, sipping on her tea as she listened to the voices in her head. 
Oh how he hated her, the woman that he loved, but never actually knew. The one that split his soul in half. 
But after this last job, the security of a new life. Tommy would finally look for her, he would get her with the catchpole no matter where she was, no matter who she was. It was time for Tommy to kill his repressions which his last ounce of humanity discouraged himself from doing. 
Kensington, London - Almost midnight, July 22rd 1924 
Unphased, that’s how Deirdre looked in the backseat of the cab even though her thoughts were screaming. Her fingers played with each other as she noticed the driver looking at her through the mirror. Almost there, just a few more minutes, a couple more streets to turn down. All of the streets were dark and empty, Deirdre’s tired eyes blinked as the car rolled up to the address. She quickly paid the fee and exited the vehicle, the street lamp lit by the familiar berkshire bricked Edwardian house. 
It was late, too late for visitors but Deirdre felt too on edge to book a room. She didn’t know where could be trusted anymore, where was safe, her face was recognised in the high ends and targeted in the low. Deirdre held onto her small luggage bag in one hand and brushed back her silky brunette hair with the other. 
Deirdre was on the run, again. She had lost track of how many times she’s done it now. But she knew that this time, there was no mercy if she was caught. There was no forgiveness if she dared to go back to beg for it. The acts she had committed would result in nothing but a brutal death. Not even her father would excuse her behavior. She needed to be free, far away from the British lands. Deirdre dreamt of the sun and warmth in California. It could be a fresh start, a new life, the welcoming of peace and freedom.  
It wasn’t a guaranteed welcome when she rang the doorbell. It had been a few years since their eventful last encounter. They could have easily relocated somewhere else. But Deirdre had no other safe haven. The front porch returned to silence as Deirdre waited patiently. She saw the hallway light bright up through bay box sash windows. 
The door creaked open, Emily’s green eyes poked through the crack of the door. Deirdre sighed out and dropped her head in relief. The door opened wide as Emily looked her up and down, dressed up in her night robe and her blonde hair tied up into a bun. It took a moment for Emily to recognise her. 
“Deirdre! Why- What?” Emily was lost for words as she pulled her inside, safe from the chilly air.
Deirdre dropped her luggage onto the ground and embraced her intensely. The first sign of care that she had gotten in the past few months. As she blinked back her tears, Deirdre shuddered against her friend. But quickly straightened her posture and plastered a mask on her face. 
“Come, come. Sit down, I will make us some tea” Emily ordered politely. 
Deirdre was led into the reception room and Emily helped her slip off her overcoat and hung it on the hook. Her eyes looked around the room, Deirdre couldn’t help but to feel slightly envious of the family portraits on the wall. However, this silence was tranquil. 
Deidre sat on the two seater couch with her legs crossed over as she anxiously patted her hair. She adjusted her cream corsetless dress and tugged down at her sleeves. Emily walked over with tea, a small hopeful smile on her lips as she poured the boiling liquid into her aynsley teacup. Deirdre looked out the window, the moonlight shone through the sheers. 
“It’s been forever” Emily acknowledged as she poured the tea into her own teacup.
“It has” Deirdre replied politely, her southern Irish accent still as strong as Emily remembered. 
They spoke quietly, Emily’s young children were asleep in the other rooms. But also because Deirdre felt on edge that there were ears in the walls. 
“A part of me never expected to see you here again” Emily hesitantly admitted, her eyebrows jumping at the memory of the last time she saw her.
“Yes, I certainly thought the same” Deirdre retorted as she sipped on her tea.
There was a silence as Emily waited for Deirdre to spill her guts. But Deirdre was holding back, because if she cracked, the great deal of her despair would crash down her masquerade.   
“I apologize for arriving so late, and without notice. Is Max home?” Deirdre raised an eyebrow. 
“Work in Germany” Emily nodded. “There is no need to apologize, I promised you a safe spot and I’m glad that you’re here” she assured gently.  “Will you be staying for long?” Emily asked.
No she will not be. Deirdre needed to be far from London as soon as she could. Her husband never knew the depths of their friendship, the arrogant bastard hardly remembered her name, but if he was to become suspicious of her whereabouts, Deirdre needed to be gone without a trace. 
“Just for the night” Deirdre promised. “I merely needed some advice” she nodded. 
“Which is?” Emily asked nervously.   
“I need to do something, in order to free myself from this life. I could only gather so much on such short notice. All I know is how to run with nothing and it’s always gotten me caught. I need to figure out a way to get ahead” Deirdre explained, the steam of the tea warmed her cold lips. 
Emily hummed and set her tea down on the table. She was an honest woman, who married an honest man and they lived an honest life. However, Emily wasn’t always honest, she was clever in her acts, a true damsel in distress when needed be. 
Deirdre sighed heavily and blinked her weary eyes. “I’m tired Emily, so, so tired. I cannot rest, I cannot live. My body can only take so much. If my life of burden is not taken by another, I fear I will do it myself” Deirdre promised, her expression dry of humor. 
“I can-”
“No” Deirdre cut her off, her hand raised in warning. 
“Max would have-”
“No” Deirdre reinforced. “Being here already makes me feel guilty and nervous enough. I need to be gone within the next day. He will be coming for me if he is already not” Deirdre elucidated, her expression stern but her eyes showed how terrified she truly was. 
Emily sighed and batted her lashes. 
“Eden Club, no Scots or Irish are ever seen there. Most are rich, harmless travelers from America” Emily recommended. “Many are easily charmed by the native beauty” she added. 
“Who owns it?” Deirdre asked cautiously. 
“Ah-” Emily wondered, her fingers tapping on her chin. “Some Italian gangster, Sabini I recall” Emily confirmed, remembering the sight of the man on her spontaneous night a few years ago. “I will be able to get you some powder in the morning” Emily said. “Just be cautious who you choose” she raised her finger to her. Deirdre hummed and finished her tea. 
Shortly after, Emily led her to the guest bedroom and bidded her goodnight. As she stripped to change into her nightwear, Deirdre stared at the large bruise across her outer right thigh through the mirror. Accompanied by the many scars and small bruises all over her small fragile body. 
She crawled into the bed, her body immediately falling asleep but her eyes stayed awake. Her ears could hear the clock’s hands tick on the wall and her heart thud in her chest. All whilst she stared at the door, awaiting for someone to open it. 
When Deirdre finally drifted off into an uneasy sleep, she saw her brute of a husband chasing after her. She was running across an open field, but he was hot on her tail. Deirdre’s heart was in her throat as she heard his brutal voice call out to her, to summon her back to him. But Deirdre wouldn’t stop, she couldn’t stop. Refused to submit to him ever again. 
As she tripped on the ground, her body was flipped over and her eyes widened at the sight of him. Where did he come from? The warmth on his cheeks still looked the same after all of this time. A lopsided smile on his lips accompanied by his crinkles around those ocean blue eyes. 
His face was angelic, but she felt his claws dig into her shoulders. She squirmed underneath him, cried out for anyone to save her, but he was dragging her down the grass which had turned into the dirt roads of Small Heath by her ankles. Her body twisted over, her hands digging into the gravel, crying for salvation, for mercy. But she knew that she had to pay for her crimes against him. 
When Deirdre woke up from her nightmare, her body shot up as she was panting for air. She had forgotten about the man that she once loved. Yes, she heard his name at times in conversation, but they lived in different worlds. She always knew she was safe from ever crossing paths with him, her family would never dare to do business with him, nor go against him. 
The last she heard was his wife taking a bullet for him, her husband laughed and asked her if she’d do the same for him. But if she had the choice, she’d be the one to fire the gun at him, her dear husband. 
But to dream of him, after all of these years. Tonight of all nights. He was a changed man, ruthless, heartless, barbaric. It made Deirdre feel sick to her stomach, she ran to the ensuite and threw up in the toilet. As she flushed the toilet and washed out her mouth in the bassinet, Deirdre plodded back to the bed and laid stiffly. 
He was planted in her thoughts now, she needed to get out of London. Fearing that another wolf had picked up her scent and was ready to catch her like she was the helpless lamb in the field.  
Soho, London - Evening, July 23rd 1924
Tommy saw her stand on the straight wide road. The beaming sun warmed his pale skin as he studied her. He walked to her slowly, her back towards him as she wore a white dress. It was quiet, he felt the wind blow gently and heard his calm breathing. 
As he stood directly behind her, his hands brushed over her shoulder, up to the back of her neck. Tommy gently pushed her soft hair to the side as he pressed his mouth to her ear. He heard her breathe out, her body relaxed back up against his as he wrapped his arms around her. 
“Tommy…” she whispered. 
Tommy woke from his light sleep when Arthur and John bursted into the hotel room, bottles of expensive champagne in their hands and foul words dripping from their lips. There was a confident smirk on his lips, he sat up on the made bed and brushed over his suit, still fully dressed. They were pulling out the champagne glasses and popping open the bottles. 
Without a word, he headed into the bathroom and closed the door behind him. Tommy stared at himself in the mirror, his blue eyes wide and jaw stern. Arthur and John could be heard clearly, drinking piss and smelling snow, ready for their big night. 
“I feel you with me” Tommy breathed out slowly, his eyes shut. “Oh, how fate wants us together again. It demands you pay for your crimes against me” He sighed softly. “And I’d be a fool if I showed you leniency” he swore. 
Arthur banged his hands on the door. With a heavy blink, Tommy opened the door and gladly accepted the glass in hand. Through one gulp, the glass was empty. The brothers cheered Tommy on and quickly refilled his glass. 
They were oblivious to the thoughts that dripped out of Tommy’s mind. No one ever really knew what he was thinking of. He was an enigma, so difficult to analyze, purely emotionlessly at many critical times. Everyone always thought that Tommy never really cared about anything anymore, since the war, except for his business. 
Arthur wrapped his slender arms around his brothers and pulled them in close. “One last night as brothers, eh John? Eh Tom?” Arthur asked, a gleeful smile on his lips. 
“Of course brother” John nodded in content. 
“I feel this night will be one to remember” Tommy acknowledged and looked to his brothers dramatically.
"What is it Tommy?" John frowned with Arthur's expression following.
Tommy breathed deeply and nodded his head. "I've been dreaming of the past, and I dreamt of a wide straight road with the woman of my past standing right in middle of it. I feel her with me, she calls my name on this night" Tommy confessed.   
Eden Club, Soho - Night, 23rd July 1924
One drink, two, three, four? Deirdre lost count on how many drinks she allowed this American lawyer to purchase her. The plan was to get him knocked out, not her. She needed to slow herself down, the eagerness to rob him blind had her high on alderline. The thrill of breaking free, running away for good was too much for her mind, emotions and body to handle. 
She had been throwing up all day. Every second she wasted brought her husband a step closer to her. The powder was hidden in her purse and Emily was correct. It wasn’t hard to seduce an American. Jack was assertive, clearly up himself. He had daddy's money to lean on anyways, he had security. She did not. 
It was hard to hear any form of conversation over the jazz music echoing around the walls. As her eyes darted around, she saw everyone was either intoxicated or high on the sweet melodies. Nobody was watching her, Emily was right, she was safe. 
Deirdre’s fingers traced around the rim of the martini glass as the melodies calmed her nerves. The conversation Jack made was muffled, Deirdre’s mind miles away from reality. His hand brushed through his blonde hair as his eyes undressed her. 
Deirdre truly was a sight for sore eyes. If she was on the streets, people would stare. That did not please her husband. The many that knew of his nature, forced themselves to look away. Hearing the many tales of what happened if he felt a slight bit of jealousy. A need to ensure ownership over her.  
The navy silk v neck dress curved her petite body perfectly. A parting gift from Emily, a token of good fortune. Only time would tell if Deirdre still had it in her. If her confidence had not been completely broken. She felt the pearl necklace, she'd sell it as soon as she was free.
Jack leant over to her, a seductive look in his dark brown eyes. She could smell the alcohol on his breath and it made her feel nauseous. “Later, I want to bring you back to my suite, and fuck you all night” he confessed, a confident smirk on his lips. 
Drunken men were always foul. Focused on the outside of a woman and did not care to know who she was. He hadn’t asked a single question about her all night. But that made it easier for her, faded her upcoming guilt.   “Jack my darling, you haven’t even asked me for a dance yet” Deirdre teased with a toothy grin.
“Oh, there will be plenty of dances, Cassidy” he promised, his arm snaking around her back. 
A simple alias just for Deirdre’s comfort. Deirdre chuckled as she watched him finish his glass, she needed him to only have a couple more. Then she’d politely accept his invitation over, suggest one finally drink and slip in the powder. It would all be over before midnight. She’d catch the overnight train to Liverpool and board the boat to America by the end of tomorrow. 
The band came to a sudden stop, the audience’s heads turned towards the three men that strode through the dining. All three of them wore peaked caps with large overcoats as they walked tall. They approached the stage and Deirdre couldn’t help but to feel her heart thud harder in her chest as this suspicious tingle crawled over her skin with her light brown eyes glued onto the men that felt too familiar. Deirdre’s heart froze when the man in front came to clear sight as he took off his cap, revealing his harsh undercut styled brunette hair.  
Thomas Shelby. 
Her face went numb when his pale hands wrapped around the microphone, ears clogged as his words fell deaf yet she remembered the sound of his deep, captivating voice perfectly. The two other men, which she quickly recognised to be his brothers, Arthur and John, stood with their chests puffed out, arms locked across shoulders and stern expressions. 
Deirdre’s heart pounded in her chest like a wild animal desperate to escape its cage. Even though her head was frozen in line to his speech, her eyes were darting around, already planning her escape. The room was full, surely his blue eyes would not be able to point her out in the depths of the occupied round tables. Let alone recognise her after all of these years. 
How could she have been so foolish? The massive city of London had never felt smaller than tonight. She had heard his name many times and every time it felt like a stab in the heart. He had made a name for himself, built an empire in that fire and brimstone city. Just like he always said he would. Her father and dear husband already hated him, gypsy bastard. Every day she prayed for their obliviousness to her heavy past with him.
It felt like her soul was pulled out of her body when his blue eyes landed on her. His mouth fell ajar open as his long lashes batted, head gently tilting to the left as he acknowledged her, remembering her thoroughly. The brothers noticed his pause and looked towards her as well, she couldn’t help but to cower slightly. The rest of the room was oblivious to the stare off between him and her. 
“And now, shall we dance?” He suggested it in a slow and challenging manner. One hand snapped to que towards the band and the other gestured towards his brothers.  
The sounds of jazz roared against the walls as everyone abruptly stood up. A deer caught in headlights, that’s how Deirdre felt at first. As she watched him walk down the stage, his eyes still on her. The brothers were already out of her sight. 
She snapped back to reality when Jack’s fingers traced over her bare shoulder. Deidre gulped hard as she quickly stood up, nervously brushing through her dark loose brunette hair. 
“Sorry, I, I suddenly don't feel too well” Deirdre admitted, which was actually a lie, but the implication went in the opposite direction. 
“Nonsense! I haven’t even gotten a single dance with you yet” Jack acclaimed with a charming smirk, his arm wrapped around her shoulder. 
Her eyes shot towards the stage, he’s gone. 
“I’m so sorry, I really must go” Deidre quickly spoke, her voice trembling as she yanked herself out of his grasp. 
She heard him rebut, however she was already heading straight towards the large doors as she zigzagged through the crowd. Unfortunately, her poorly planned escape route had quickly soiled, she spotted Arthur and John standing on opposite sides of the exit. They were always loyal pawns in his game. There was a pause in her movements as her eyes shot around, her body covered in pins and needles. 
She’d escape through the workers quarters. But as she turned in a hasty measure, her small body smacked into another. The arms that she had felt years before wrapped around her possessively as he steadied her stance. There was no doubt who it was, no hope for it to be another. 
“My dearest Deirdre, my sight has declined; however, my eyes will never fail to spot your beauty. May I have this dance?” Tommy asked with a stern expression but soft voice, head tilted down towards her as she kept her eyes on the floor. 
The coat he wore was gone, and she could easily feel his muscular frame hidden underneath the button up shirt, not to mention the pistol in his holster. His cold hand lifted her chin and their eyes locked. As she blinked slowly, her eyes glistering, she bit on her tongue. Tommy waited patiently for her next move. 
Show no fear. 
“If I knew that the Eden Club was in your possession I would have steered clear. We can pretend that you never saw me” Deidre negotiated confidently but her front failed when her body shook against his. 
Tommy laughed loudly as his arm around her waist tightened in a proprietorial manner. 
“Unfortunately we have unfinished business, you and I” Tommy replied coldly. 
“Please, surely you haven't held onto those emotions for all of these years” Deirdre chuckled presumptuously as she tried to push their bodies apart without gaining attention.   
Tommy grunted at her words and dragged her to the dance floor, his fingers dug into her upper arms. Surely he wouldn’t make a scene here. But then she’s heard many tales of him, the beast that he had become when he returned from the war.
“You’re in a considerable debt with me, my love. One that you thought would fade if you merely ran” Tommy growled. 
“I can get you your money” she winced at the sharp pain, not like it would even mean anything to him with how much his businesses bring in these days. When they passed through the crowded floor, she realized that he was leading her out of the lounge. 
“If you think your debt is based around money, are you still that naive girl from all of those years ago, eh?” Tommy smirked as he kicked open the double doors which led them into the kitchen. 
It was now or never. Deirdre shoved him away with full force and scrambled through the busy kitchen as she nearly fell over in her heels as she broke free. All eyes were on them but no one dared to move a finger in the wrong direction. As she roughly pushed past everyone, she tried to remain calm. 
Tommy grinned at the girl who loved to run. This night had taken an unexpected turn indeed for the both of them, her heart was pounding immensely as she panted in her heels. The first door she took led her to a hallway, the open exit to the streets on her right was blocked by two working men. Cigarettes in their lips as they watched her intimately, she bolted to the left. 
The next door she took, she didn’t consider analyzing, she locked herself in the small dark room which appeared to be an office. The moonlight shined through the sash window which she yanked up and looked down to the small drop, survivable but not without two broken heels. As Deidre laid her hands on the windowsill, her head snapped back as she heard the door unlock from the other side. There was no other option besides hiding. Deirdre found herself hidden underneath the wooden Lombardo desk. It was human instinct to cower, pray that she’d be able to run from her past demons.
The weighty door creaked open, and she heard his heavy footsteps on the carpet. Tommy pulled out a cigarette, the end of the stick brushed in between his lips as he lit it. “Oh Deirdre, my dearest” Tommy spoke loudly, his tone dripping of sarcasm, which made her stomach feel like a bottomless pit. He slammed the door shut behind him. “Why do you run? Why do you hide? From me of all people? You seemed to have forgotten the vows you swore your life on. The promises which are still owed to me. You ignorantly believed that fate would keep us apart? Oh but haven’t you heard the tales of the Peaky Blinder Devil?” Tommy spoke, his footsteps slowly approached her. 
The thuds in her chest were painful, her throat felt like the cold air around her was strangling her. He could hear her heavy breathing and chuckled silently. The Colt M1911 is pulled from his holster and he ensured that she heard the safety click off. 
“Once upon a time there was a boy. Who foolishly fell for a girl with a secretive past. They created a life as one. He protected her from the pure evils in this cruel world and how did she repay him? She robbed him blind. She ran from the boy that she loved and turned his soul black. She created the Devil of Birmingham. And tonight, the runaway has tripped over her bad deeds” Tommy teased as he leisurely approached her. 
With a turn of the corner of the desk, Tommy raised his pistol and pointed it at her forehead. Deirdre looked up to him with doe eyes and gulped down her nerves. “And now, you will repay your debts” Tommy ordered with a gentle nod. 
“I will do no such thing” she refused, her words sizzling in anger. 
Tommy knelt down to her level, his pistol pressed against her temple. Deirdre breathed out but didn’t fear, she’s been pushed and shoved too many times before to know when there was an actual threat on her life. 
“Yes you will. Because you’re still my property, my dear wife” Tommy smirked.
CHAPTER 2
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funsizedkola · 3 months ago
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She's A Maniac [part 1]
So I got REAL INSPIRED by @keferon 's Mecha Pilot AU (and got me liking JazzProwl overall thanks to it despite me being a Recent Transformers fan) and what really got my interest piqued was the fact that due to Quintessons, the Autobots and Deceptions joined forces in this AU. So! That inspired me a bit with this!
Though as you will see, what really took over here was the idea of what Elita One would be in a setting like this so, pardon my indulgence in this post. (And I like megoplita so sue me~)
They want her retired.
It's not outright said, but Swindle's grin and flattering words can't conceal what he's trying to encourage. Boardroom executives, sponsors, spokespeople, they're all the same to her at this point in her life. Ever since she was a fresh young recruit she never lost the feeling that she can only could rely on fellow pilots to be honest with her. If you're not going through the same agonizing road of misery all recruits live through (if they survive, even) then you can't understand her life.
And certainly don't have the right to direct where she should go.
"Our wonderful, exemplary Ariel-"
"Captain," calmly and yet with no spared patience is what emits with her narrowed eyes. The poster behind her in her office shows the girl that used to still respond to that name. Hopeful, radiant maybe, eyes gleaming like the polish of the mech she pilots in distant view. Ponytail bouncy with the abundant energy she once had as her smile expressed faith in the future. Everyone's future.
You wouldn’t recognize that girl at first glance in the woman glaring holes at this man's head. A few noticeable streaks of white now run through her strawberry blonde hair as the fire before is searing hot coals serving as her eyes. The way Swindle rubbed his hands shows he's maybe second guessing this conversation. Especially with what else he thought was also necessary to discuss.
"You understand, don't you? Progress must march on if we want to see results-"
"And you think sending Rumble and Frenzy to follow where Jazz was last heard is the way to do it?" Venomous, her fist fell on her desk as she soon stood up. "The children, next on the chopping block after the fully grown man failed to respond back? Who shouldn't have been put in that program in the first place you son of a-"
"W-Well, the decision has already been made so really you're only being informed as a formality-"
Oh, why bother with words anymore? The same snarl Elita would give to the enemy kaiju is what sends the suited man running out the door. By the way he scurried down the hall as she yells obscenities his way she knows there's nothing more she can do. He's at times just the glorified messenger boy with decisions like these in hopes that by the time she's found a proper suit or sponser or whatever to shake around she won't be as mad. But no, this weathered soul isn't so keen on lying down on this matter.
"Wooow~ They're going to definitely find a way to fire you if you keep that up."
Blurr isn't perturbed by the look thrown his way, cool and composed as he was leaning against the wall like he overheard quite the show to stop by. With how it's the longest he's initiated any conversation with her, he must of been very amused by what was said in there. Casual smile paired by serious eyes as he leans in, poster boy for the masses advising to former poster girl for new recruits. "Unfortunately he is right. No matter what you do, you can't change their minds on this. Whatever suggestion was offered is already a done deal."
Any non pilot saying this would have their throat grabbed. But as much as she yearns to disagree she can't throw away the reality he's delivering to her. With how prized a pilot Jazz is, the chance that they have gone and lost one of their best assets have backpedaled the hopes the higher ups have of gaining an advantage in this war. Now, anyone else they will consider sending will be those they consider to be... significantly expendable.
.
.
.
And maybe.
Perhaps also those they wish to be rid of.
"... Okay I don't know if I like that look in your eyes."
"Oh, really? I'll take that as a good sign then," is all the senior pilot says as she then starts heading to where the boardroom is.
Bemused, Blurr watches at the faded burgundy from her jacket leaves his line of sight before he looks back at her office. For a second he wondered if he saw just a hint of that spunky pilot in that framed poster in her eyes. Though he mainly is looking at said artwork to remember what exactly was her name.
Elita One: "I'll see you on the battlefield!"
Ah right, that's what she goes by.
- - -
"You're going too?!"
Ah, she knew she forgot something. Tiredly drinking the rest of her coffee, Elita just let Hot Rod rage on and get some of this indignation out of his system. Though when his angry tirade turns to him accusing certain people of using this as a chance to cowardly do away with her she then raised a finger and shook her head. "I volunteered," she corrected.
"WHAT?!"
"Told you," Wheeljack adds unhelpfully as Hot Rod just looks to him striding in with a stack of reports about her currently reconstructing mech, then to her, and for a moment looks almost hurt dare she say.
She gives a rare apologetic smile. "I was meaning to tell you all, but I had my hands full by all this preparation for me and the twins."
"But. But. You don't have to. Just say the word and I'll step in. I'll find Jazz and keep those two safe as well-" Oh how earnest he sounds. She doesn't doubt his conviction with how he's been arguably the most affected pilot since they heard that one of their own may for all they know be lost in space with no hope of return. "Captain, we need you here!"
"One way or another I can't ignore the risk that they will find a way to get rid of me once and for all. So at least through this it would be by my decision," Elita points out before patting his arm. He's not as visibly worn with burden like she is, but he looked even younger once. A prodigy in spirit and strength as she one time carried him after an excruciating round of tests left him unable to walk. He didn't ask for her help but she told him what he needs to do if he wishes to keep going and be one of the blazing warriors of history instead of the tragic burnt matches sent for cremation. "And I appreciate the offer. But no, you're needed more than me. You know I only got so much time left till it's time for me to meet my sisters."
It's not like she doesn't see why he remains unconvinced. And she gets a feeling he won't be the only pilot attempting to in some way convey refusal of her decision as word will now spread. The main reason she evaded the path of high office promotions other pilots ventured off to was so there's as least one more person there for the new recruits to turn to. To say for them the things they are afraid to voice till they've grown wise enough to walk on their own. But she knew one day she will have to let go and just hope for the best, as she taps Hot Rod on the chest.
"If you ask me, it's time for you to see if Captain is a right fit for you as well."
- - -
There's two reasons Elita can guess why Rumble and Frenzy were picked for this 'retrieval mission'.
One. They are a PR disaster waiting to happen. That's due to their controversial background of orphans being picked for the program. A convenient lack of parents unable to refuse rights to them made them easy pickings to be handed over from whatever foster care organization was receptive to bribes. But the longer the war wanes the more the public is willing to start aiming criticisms to the mech program and where there is smoke, there will be a fire to inevitably be posted to all news and media outlets.
Two. They are a PR disaster waiting to happen. The experiments they had to go through were far from gentle but it did nothing to tame their already wild personalities. If anything, it only made them worse. If you were a pilot they might listen to you, and even then depending on their mood it's a maybe. Jazz was one of the few that handled those troublemakers with ease and since his departure from Earth they've made their worries for him everyone's problem. His easygoing attitude and way of entertaining them was how he unintentionally got them to listen to him.
But. Elita can't say why the twins listen to her in her case. Intimidation, one may say. Perhaps being the closest they will get to a maternal figure despite her stern demeanor, another may comment. Or maybe the terror twins know to fall in line when the scarier pilot is in the room, another will add in. Whatever reason, she can't complain as they follow her lead in preparing for their mission. They delight in the new shiny suits they get to try on before attempting to look serious in her presence. It breaks her heart how they slowly try acting less their age in little ways and so she comments her approval for her own new attire so they can relax and get back to being eager. Any moment they can have to laugh between difficult rounds of training cannot be swept away.
As they tell each other how they definitely will show off to the others how much cooler they look, she glances at her reflection from the leg of her upgraded mech. Maybe one of the designers was feeling nostalgic as the shade of pink reflected more the hues she had in her early days. A contrast to the darker tones of magenta and wine red she preferred to adorn herself with when she no longer had the energy to smile for the camera. A sendoff to her once envious legacy, she morbidly thinks before seeing that some of the pilots have arrived in the hangar.
For some, it's the last chance their comrades will get to say goodbye and wish them luck before they are called away for combat. Elita appreciates the thought as she sees the twins gang up on a nervous First Aid, hoping that this isn't it for them. Or at the very least, the children will get to return to earth again.
"A badge?" She comments as she's handed a vibrant piece of metal that can magnetize to her suit. "You shouldn't have."
Hot Rod grins as he shows two smaller ones he's no doubt readied for Rumble and Frenzy. Before handing her another regular sized badge that has her raise a brow before she realizes.
"Give this to Jazz when you find him."
When. Not if. She's glad at least he is stubbornly having faith in their perilous pilgrimage. Clasping his hand she gives a nod before she lets herself be pulled in a hug. "I will," she promises him, knowing he needs to hear her resolve. "And I'll remind him that you still owe him money from your last bet."
The waver in his laugh has her close her eyes. Steeling herself as she knows the ones they'll leave behind will cry enough for her.
- - -
"Rumble, Frenzy, report! Report!"
Way to soon after their send off, they have somehow managed to end up in a swarm of enemies. Blasting away at the eyes of one of them, Elita frantically searched around for any sign of the stealth mechs she had ended up separated from. Is it damaged comms? Are they too occupied with fighting or running? Or maybe, they're already- no. No she won't guess till she's seen them herself. Wherever they are on this rock of a planet, she'll be there.
"Elita! You'll never guess what I found!!!" The joyful voice of a girl still way too young for active service is now calling her.
"Frenzy? Where are you and your brother?!" Alerts blaring have her picking up her last kaiju victim by the tentacles as she whips it around to stun it's comrades attempting to surround her.
"Hey I was the one to find him first!" Rumble, he's alive too oh thank-
"Well he patted me first so there!"
"Nu-uh!"
"Yu-huh!"
"Nu-uh!!!"
"Yu-huh!!!"
"STATUS. REPORT."
The pair of "Yes ma'am"s have her heaving a sigh as she looks down on one of her toes feebly attempting to grab her armored leg. "Kids, am I right?" She says dryly before stomping on its head, green muck now staining her. So much for a pristine paint job.
"Contact with good guys have been made, ma'am!"
"There's this really cool one we wanna keep, ma'am!"
"Can we, please? Ma'am!"
"Alright enough with the- wait what are you saying...?" She trails off, not liking the implication that there's something else out there that's not one of identifiable tentacle monsters she's been fighting for most of her life. Whatever chatter the twins are having to scheme to her agreeing is no longer her focus as she's got a larger tentacle wrapping itself around the head of her mech. Immediately kicking away, she growled as she sees this big guy is smart and is keeping her at enough distance from his weak points. Just what she needs, one of the tankier enforcers to show up.
Quickly she's attempting to take aim to wherever she can hit first, limb, neck(?), maybe the eyes-
Blade.
There's a glowing blade going through the alien's torso.
Feeling her captor's balance careen, Elita readies herself to roll on the rocky ground. Immediately getting to untangling the now limp tentacle from herself. And also getting ready for another fight because whatever just saved her has yet to earn her ease with how she now sees an imposing figure attached to said glowing axe. Monster wriggling away in halves, the more metal being steps over it to her direction.
Eyes.
Bright blue eyes is what she sees, vibrant on this planet only lit by distant stars and moons. Nothing like anything she's ever seen on any mech like construct as it's like she's actually being perceived.
The axe it wields is now shrinking before somehow it's replaced with a hand, the sight feeling more mythical rather than engineered. Now both hands are held up as if to convey peace as he pauses in front of her.
A voice is what she's hearing, but it's not one she can understand. It certainly doesn't sound human either which has her hackles raised once more, stepping back.
The way this red and blue mech tilts it's head as if in thought has her nearly laugh as something so mighty and tall somehow looks a tad approachable. But no, she can't be wasting time here as she drags her eyes away.
"I. Appreciate the help but I have to go and look for my own now," she manages to say as she wonders if it would be too rude to run off. But her sensors indicating forms heading her way have her looking to see the young pilots running to her. Sheer relief waves over her as she hurries forth to bend down and let them crash into her open arms, their chatter and barely even dented mechs assuring her that they're okay, for now they're alright.
Though she draws back with a frown. "You two. Need to improve your communication on the field," she stated.
"Really? I thought we did great," Frenzy says, her brother nodding as she internally sighs. "And look, it's our new friends!"
The relief of finding these two distraction her from the full scale of approaching mass their way is what soon is realized to Elita, looking up to see two more mechs walking their way.
They. Do not look as approachable as the first one. One is darker blue with a gleaming red visor that has her feel like she's being scanned, and the other one has red eyes pinpointed on them.
And a face. It has a proper face.
Somehow, it has a mouth. That moves. That can't be made by metal, no way does such material deliver such a menacing scowl with ease like that. Abruptly standing to place herself between those two and the kids, she could of sworn silver head is now smirking but she's not wanting to waste time on chances that could lead to bodily harm now that she has the twins.
"Rumble, Frenzy, go. Now!" She ordered, but she just gets vehement shaking heads as they tug at her hands.
"No, they're the good guys! Like we said!"
"Yeah, they saved us! Well, more like the blue one was doing that as the grey guy just killed aliens."
Judging from the amount of green splatters on said stranger she is inclined to believe that.
"So, can we keep him? That guy is so cool!" Rumble pleads as he waves at Red Visor who gives a little wave back. "I promise we'll do whatever you say Captain!"
"Yeah! We'll be perfect soldiers!"
They no doubt will be pleading from within their cockpits which, while cute to imagine, does not dissuade said Captain from tapping them on the heads. "No."
"Pleaaaaase! Please please please! We'll name him and everything!"
"Take him on walks!"
"Won't use him in our pranks!"
"You already should be following my orders to stay safe," The tired woman stressed, feeling tempted to remove her helmet to rub her forehead. "And besides, I'm pretty sure they can't talk to us so what's the use in keep them around? Chances are they already have their own designations but not like we'll know what they are!"
The static she keeps getting when trying to contact home base is also not helping her stress here. Improved communications her foot, she should of known they would of been stuck going no contact with any one human being this far away from Earth. As the twins keep pleading as they cling to her legs, she feels too worn out to even think about how undignified she must look to these other mech users.
"Optimus Prime."
Pausing, she slowly turns to where she hears that voice from. Sure enough, Axe Guy has stepped forth and the tone she just heard somehow just. Fits. Deep, and yet rich with humble gravitas...?
"That would be my designation. May I have the honor of learning yours?"
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rose-vybe · 3 months ago
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So, @starsmadeinheaven, here's the shortfic for the ring toss prompt. it went wrong as always :))))
TOY SOLDIER (also on AO3)
"Winner of the ring toss gets to kiss the loser."
"Oh, you're on!" Francis watched with a curl of lips as the boy leaned in and stole the winner's kiss from his lover before the girl had even begun, making her drop the ring from her mittened hand. The ensuing bickering was lost in the cheerful noise as he turned away from the bright colorful lights and walked towards the gate of the winter fair.
Beyond, a bare field stretched at the foot of the Lion's Mound, blanketed with the sparkly, fresh snow. Two hundred and nine years ago, in early summer, this place had not been so joyous.
Francis still couldn't say whether he held any bitterness about how the events had unfolded or not, after all he did believe that chubby, ambitious little man had in the end gotten what he’d deserved. Francis had followed him from beginning to end, not 'pour la France' or 'pour l'Empereur', but for the bloodshed the man brought with him everywhere.
Deadly as a plague, yet without the repulsive alteration of flesh and blood.
If he came back here year after year, it wasn't for Napoleon's memory; for while Napoleon Bonaparte had lost everything here, in this very place, Francis Bonnefoy had gained his most prized possession.
They never came back in the summer though. Winter suited Gilbert better - the crisp air, the icy white of snow onto dry weeds and grasses dotting the field under which old bones still lay. Gilbert should have been grateful, maybe, not to have ended up as such himself.
"Very lively this year, n'est ce pas?" he said, gaze wandering far away. Two hundred and nine years later, it still looked odd without all those men, horses, canons, tents and the altogether different noise and smells of war. "Do you still remember the night we met?"
"Yes. A remarkable waste of time and lead."
Gilbert's voice came out flat, thick with that choky accent he had yet to smoothen. Blunt as ever, and yet Francis smiled.
“But the Coalition won,” he pointed, gesturing at the majestic lion profiled against a starry horizon, one muscular paw of weathered iron firmly grasping onto the globe below. Even if he’d not watched it happen.
They’d both missed the greatest of battles.
That night, in early June, he’d been utterly bored. For one such as he, the worrisome anticipation plaguing everyone else made little impression. All battles were the same, and he’d seen plenty. Spoils mattered and Francis was all for the spoils, hungered for them in the rawest sense of the word.
He’d snuck out of his tent, into the falling darkness already fragrant with the summer air and still alive with chirping of rare birds in the nearby trees, not yet chased away by what was to come. He’d passed men hunched around fires, horses, carriages with supplies, stocks of weaponry and ammunition and barrels of gunpowder like a ghost, he had slipped and crawled over the no-man’s-land as unseen as the night breeze.
The Prussian camp lacked in lavishness or at least in style compared to that of the Emperor, he’d noted yet again, passing similar piles of stuff, more weary faces lit by flickering flames, more of the same human misery, just foreign. Just…
Francis wouldn’t have called them ‘the enemy’.
What right did he have? What enmity did he really hold against them? What creature would hold it against their own food? Besides, they were but poor creatures, blind and deaf to the predator walking carefree amongst them in a pristine, elegantly-cut French uniform.
In that moment, Francis’d had no appetite for the meagre, dirty foot soldiers he was encountering at every step. He’d have his fill of them the next day, or what would be left of them, as it was. It was undoubtedly going to be thrilling, even if he’d seen the carnage, had feasted on it a thousand times over - there was nothing, nothing like the ruby-red trickle of openly-spilled blood, the agony, the lost hopes, the scattered dreams of dying men.
No, that night he’d resolved he would get himself some finery, if there was any to be had. And whatever infernal gods were on his side had brought Gilbert Beilschmidt into his path.  
A sole candle was burning on the corner of a small table, but bright enough for his eyes to awe at the beauty of the man sitting there, head propped against the heel of his palm, quill hovering lazily in his hand over a blank page.
Francis had taken him in with such pure interest and marvel that he’d even stood there motionless as the young officer had jumped to his feet, knocking his chair over, and had fired his pistol straight into his heart without as much as a warning.
‘What a delightful little beast’ he had thought, as the other’s light-colored eyes had widened at his drawing near without as much as a stumble.
But to be fair, Gilbert had put up quite a fight, however short and futile. Pistol abandoned, he’d been quick to draw a blade from his boot and stab at the Frenchman’s chest until all strength had finally left him.
“It’s been so long and still you won’t let go of it. Aren’t they all gone, Francis?”
Francis half turned to see his minion’s stern profile against the white of the snow. Moonlight shone in his hair, some barely-there freckles dusted the bridge of his nose, the ghostly white of his skin marble-like, but his back was still impossibly straight, chest pushed out, hands clasped at his back in a martial stance.
Perfect, beautiful little toy soldier.
Too bad Francis could give him the dark gift, but not any actual life. Not for two hundred years. He shouldn’t have complained – from all his servants, Gilbert was the most effective, compliant, disciplined, dutiful; only, he never smiled, never looked Francis in the eye and had yet to yield to his master’s charms.
“It’s been so long and you still don’t understand what I come here to remember,” Francis said, facing the other fully and making him turn as well. “You in my arms! I yearned like a fool the moment I laid eyes on you, did I not look, from that very first moment, like a man in love?!”
He knew he was being overdramatic for the sake of drama, but it was ever surprising how many people fell for that, again and again.
“You looked like a creep, lecherous and defective.”
Francis sighed. “Gilbert, I know that fateful night you were trying to write a letter to your so-called beloved, but she wasn’t the one for you and you know it. You had already crumpled it when I found you.”
Gilbert raised his chin, his eyes cold and defiant. “It was a draft. And I had spilled potato soup on it!”
Francis burst into laughter, throwing his head back, and he laughed right up until a snowball hit him square in the face, half of it filling his mouth. While he spluttered, eyes watering, he spied Gilbert looking away with an eye roll but with a conspicuous twitch of lips.
Maybe there was hope yet. He shook his head, combing away the snow from loose blonde locks.
“Ah, the simple joys of the living! Come on, let us return to the fair, away from ghosts and times long forgotten,” he said and grabbed hold of the Prussian’s hand, jerking just hard enough to make him loose his footing and take a nose dive. “I want to try the ring toss too! Winner gets to kiss the loser, what say you?”
THE END
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ayotofu · 12 days ago
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For the hurt/comfort meme how about 5 and nico robin (it's still her birthday somewhere) and jinbei?
nico robin my beloved princess!!!!!!!!! anyway this ended up being. not hurt. but just sweet musings? sorry lmao
--
Jinbei knew who Nico Robin was when he joined the Strawhats.
Everyone did. The eight-year-old who destroyed eight Navy ships all by herself (or three, or ten--the number changed every time he heard the story). The Demon Child. Her very existence was an unconscionable crime in the eyes of the World Government.
As a fishman, Jinbei could relate.
Jinbei followed her story for years. There was a strange kinship to be had, with the woman who the World despised even more than it despised him and his brothers, even one-sided as it was. He wasn't stupid enough to believe anything the government had to say about her, but he could read between the lines. A narrow escape here, a betrayal there. Her life seemed destined for misery.
And yet.
Jinbei remembers the tale of the Straw Hats assault on Enies Lobby. Most of it he'd heard from behind bars, waiting for a chance to escape the torturous Impel Down. It hadn't been high priority for him at the time, not with the impending war, but he remembered thinking good for her. She had found her place at last, and he took a moment to relish in a vicarious joy.
So when he finally meets her, as a crewmate on Luffy's ship, he almost hugs her like an old friend. Look, he wants to say, we both made it! The world was against us, and yet!
But he does nothing. He says nothing. He says hello, like she's only one of many new friends, like he doesn't know who she is.
--
One night, Jinbei finds her on the deck long after the others have gone to sleep.
"Oh, Jinbei-san," she says, with a smile that says she knows more than she's saying. Jinbei kind of thinks that's just what she looks like. "Can't sleep?"
"Not really." He sits next to her on the grass. "Caught in my head, I suppose."
Her smile softens. "Would you like some tea?" She holds out a cup, the delicate scent of jasmine curling off the liquid.
"Thank you," he says, accepting the cup. "What brings you out here?"
"I like the night sky. The stars, the galaxies. Nami lets me know when the sky will be clearest and I will come out and stargaze."
"Hm." They lapse into silence, sipping on their tea and staring up at the stars.
"You know," Jinbei says without thinking, "I was really happy when I heard you were on this crew."
"Oh?" And there's an edge to her voice, one that reminds him that for all her gentle smiles, she was once well-known as an assassin. It warns to tread carefully, and Jinbei can only imagine what scenarios she is conjuring in her mind for her to think he is being anything but sincere.
"I knew your story for a long time. Well, parts of it. I always thought we had a lot in common. Enemies of the government simply for being alive."
"Oh," she says, blinking in surprise. "I... hadn't thought of that before."
Jinbei laughs a little. "Of course not! You had much bigger concerns. But, I was always rooting for you. I was so excited to hear about your escape from Enies Lobby. I just--I wanted you to know that. Even when you were alone, some of us were on your side."
"Oh," she says, and her voice wavers, just the tiniest bit. She takes another sip of her tea and they sit in silence for a few minutes more.
"Well," Jinbei says with a yawn, "I should try to sleep a little more. Thanks for letting me sit with you."
"You're welcome. And, Jinbei?" She turns to look at him fully, squeezing his hand in hers. "Thank you."
He grins. "Of course." He heads back to the bunks, and he's asleep as soon as he lays back down in his hammock.
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ep2nd · 9 months ago
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I really hope Macaria gets her own Hades game, and if not here's some of my ideas
It's like the opposite of Hades 1
Mac has long brown hair that kinda looks like Persephones hairdo pre-underworld, yellow and white based clothes, two green eyes, and oh yeah white wings, all weapons kinda float on her back. Very nice, kind, and sweet. More of Hallyday, joyous, flowers and rainbow vibe game
Mac is trapped on the mortal world, raised by Persephone, because that curse is like the opposite for her, she can't live in the underworld, lives in Persephones old farm
Trained by Chiron, taking Skelemesus(how do you spell??) Role. Also Triptolemus is here, mortal turned God by Demeter during Persephones disappearance, and Cyrene, amazing Hunter and Shepherd princess/queen turned Naiad, lover of Apollo and Ares too
Plot: The Primordal gods and Titans are awaking, aka they were all, mostly, asleep before this and will wake up and choose violence
Mainly Gaia, who's upset about the Titan things. The Olympians can't help cause they gotta deal with Typhon, so Mac gets help from minor gods and some Titans- Hebe, fun cus, Asclepius, bless his soul, Triton, nervous cus, Iris, gossip girl/hermes job, Nike, probably challenges you like Nem in Hades 2, Tyche, the IDK, Eros, seductive but is married(put shoulerd guards because of THE INCIDENT), Psyche, distant, loss vibe, but a sweetheart, Aeolus, laying down on a couch looking cloud, baby girl, Prometheus, holds tourch thats all I ask for, Themis, blindfold looking straight at you with hands on sword in the ground, stoic.... probably others, comment below
For Nyx kids this time around, basically everyone's who left, but primarily Phil(Philotes) Friendship Incarnate, the bestie who's like Hypnos, never met him though, she doesn't hang out with her other family, except Hemera! Also here, like the opposite Nyx, kinda duh Day Incarnate, also you wake Aither, Light Incarnate, same vibe as giddy Hypnos kinda. But then gets the worst Nyx kids, Oizys, Distress Incarnate, pessimism pro, Momus, Satire Incarnate, ridicules you for everything, the worse, more annoying Hypnos greeter, Dolos and Apate, Fraud and Deceit Incarnate, makes your job harder and kills you half the time, Geras, grumpy old man, anddddd Achlys, Misery Incarnate, who I make Nyx AND Erebus kid because the Chaos and Nyx kid might be too weird... also Asleep Primordal... but awakes, very much like Charon, they are best friends, enemies, and closest siblings, both taught by Erebus and hisses/growls to speak, also will kill you UNLESSS you offer her stuff, dumb enough to fight Charon... but he's also dumb enough to fight her so...
Also Erebus is here, who I like to say is all their dad because I love him, defiantly loving father who's been denied fatherhood too many times
Wake during the fight with Tartarus, who also wakes. They have beef. Fought each other and put eachother to sleep, on the day Eris was born, when the Twins were barely a year old(the order is different for reasons). Basically Erebus is gonna visist his entire family, also favors Charon because he's the first kid who he could ACTUALLY RAISE- looks at Hemera, Aither, and the Fates- let's not talk about Moros, Nemesis, Geras, Phil, Hypnos, Than, Eris, and Momus
Also others you awake- Oceanus, Pontus, Ananke, Astreaus, Uranus(maybe), Gaia, and other primordals/Titans prob, comment below for ideas
Other characters: Hippolytus, hates his dad(Theseus) loves Artemis(as in a Motherly figure/best friend, depending on how you see em) also loves his actually mom, Jason and Perseus hanging out together(congrats if ya got that reference), Atalanta, challenge you in everything and likes to berate Jason, Hippolyta, hates her Ex loves her son, Otrera, person you fight because why not?, Keto(Ceto) goddess of Sea Monsters, person you fight because I want that design, Midas, like takes Charons job for most of the game, also Pasithea, with children, help her get to Hypnos, others I don't know GIVE IDEAS
Weapons: main Scythe, because yes, at one point gets dual Swords, one is Aspect of Erebus, because yes, throwing knives, Aspect of Oizys, idk feels right, some type of spear thing, Aspect of Iris and Nike for those, whip? Aspect of Megeara because I'm funny, shields, either Aspect of Heracles or Achlys, and one for Perseus and Athena, mirror shield plus Medusa head one, Hammer/Mace, a Hypnos Ascpet it's funny guys, probably Momus too, and I don't know... that's all I got
For Romance options, I feel like Phil because she's very like Mac, Oizys for that Nemesis/Melinoe type, maybe an Iris one? She shows up in person eventually after you get her fountain, and if you wanna be REALLY funny, Meg or Than depending what ya chose for the first game
Finally, you get a big quest known as Phil's Tea Party, basically everytime you god a minor god or Nyx kid to join her Tea Party, at the end get the whole family, please, Phil loves her family despite them not loving her
AND THATS IT???
I don't know, love to hear ideas
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alondradina · 16 days ago
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Febuwhump day 2!
Prompt: holding back tears
Fandom: Dragon Age, Dragon Age: The Veilguard
Pairing: Solas/Rook, Solrook, Dreadrook
Takes place after The Last Gambit at the end of the game.
https://archiveofourown.org/works/62728939
The hand on her back is warm and heavy. Its weight tethers her to the ground instead of allowing her release. It is the weight of expectation, of duty, of all that must be done whether she can stomach it or not. His hand doesn't rub her spasming shoulders or offer the comforting pats she remembers from her childhood. It stays in place; warm and heavy and unwelcome.
The unnatural cold in the air lends the basement a feeling akin to the Necropolis. It is fitting, since it is the resting place for the allies she's lost. Her arms prickle with gooseflesh as she huddles on the last step. The others paid their respects hours ago, but she had waited until they were gone to make hers.
Her eyes burn with unshed tears and her throat feels tight; a vise to hold in the words she cannot say. Snot begins to trickle from her nose as she hears someone approach. Stealthily wiping it, she glances back to see Solas at the top of the stairs. She waves him off and turns to rest her forehead on her knees.
His footsteps echo as he descends, and she is filled with irrational rage that he would dare enter this sanctuary. This is the only place she can be alone. Everywhere else someone is there, waiting for her. Waiting for her condolences, for her empty promises, for her to be strong and hopeful and in charge.
She feels like none of that right now. She feels like a child again; ripped from her mother's arms and sold to a stranger far from home. Tevinter had been a land of nightmares, used to threaten and frighten the children of Fereldan. Decades later it is still a nightmare, though worse than anything her childhood dreams could have conjured.
“You have been missed.”
She shrugs.
A small grunt is all the warning she gets before Solas sits on the step beside her. “There will be a time to mourn.”
She buries her face further into her knees, biting her lip to keep from saying all the ugly things she has bottled up inside her. Solas deserves it — he deserves every ounce of misery and regret he cloaks himself in — but Elgar'nan still needs to be defeated, and Solas is an important ally in that fight.
Her throat clamps shut and she can't breathe. The snot runs from her nose like the tears should be from her eyes, but if she starts she's not sure she can stop.
“Here,” he says, pushing a handkerchief against her clenched fist.
Grudgingly taking it, she raises her head enough to lay the handkerchief on her knees before laying it back down. “Thanks.”
“You are welcome.”
They sit in silence for a time, until she is able to dry her nose and turn her head to face him; cheek pressed to the damp handkerchief. “Does it always feel like this?”
His mouth opens before quickly shutting. He pauses for a moment before trying again. “At first, yes.”
She fights an inappropriate giggle. “Oh yes. I forgot that you have spent millennia sacrificing more people than I will ever know.”
He sighs and looks at the dimly lit figures shrouded in whatever unBlighted fabric they could find. “At first they are your friends, your companions, perhaps even your family.”
Propping her chin on her knees, she also looks at the dead.
“As time goes on they become acquaintances, allies, and eventually just numbers tallied in the margins.”
“I never let them become friends,” she admits quietly. “I was focused on our mission, in completing it as quickly and efficiently as possible. Every moment the gods were free was a moment where people were dying.”
Solas remains quiet, and she continues after huffing out a breath. “They told me we needed to bond as a team, that everyone needed to resolve their problems so they could focus fully on defeating our enemies.”
“They wanted to go on walks in the forests of Arlathan and the gardens of the Necropolis. They wanted me to have dinner with their families, to shop in the markets, to feed the birds and skip stones and-” her voice cracks and she buries her face in her knees once more. The tears she's been holding back leak into the handkerchief. “They had a book club, Solas. A book club. I can't even read.”
A hand settles between her shoulder blades. “They did not understand.”
She shakes her head. “I didn't let them understand. I was surrounded by the best and the brightest, but I wasn't one of them. If they had known-”
“Every victory your team has won, has been won because of you. They could not have accomplished-”
“Don't, please-” But it is too late. She sobs so hard she chokes on her spit; each inhale is smothered on snot and tears, each exhale expels them just enough to choke her again.
The hand on her back is warm and heavy. Its weight tethers her to the ground instead of allowing her release. It is the weight of expectation, of duty, of all that must be done whether she can stomach it or not. His hand doesn't rub her spasming shoulders or offer the comforting pats she remembers from her childhood. It stays in place; warm and heavy and unwelcome.
An infinity later, she is able to calm her breathing and her sobs slowly hiccup to a stop. Her eyes are swollen, her nose is raw, and her head pounds, but the tears are done for now. Dabbing at her eyes, she noisily blows her nose — refusing to be embarrassed that Solas is here, it’s his own damn fault — before rolling the handkerchief up and tossing it into the gloom.
“Do you feel better?”
“No.”
He chuckles. “It never helped me either.”
“Does anything?”
“No,” he answers blithely, using her shoulder to boost himself up to stand again. The warmth his hand leaves behind fades quickly. “Do not mourn overlong. There is much to be done.”
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