#tiny hint of who I will be adding soon

[kumkaniudaku]

Stay A While (2)

Summary: Terry and Treece are feeling the sparks again.

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Black!OC

Word Count: 3,659

Part: 2 of ??

Warnings: None. This one's a safe for work slow burn. Enjoy.

Previous

Grocery shopping was Patrice's private pastime. She was the queen of her universe when she walked through aisles every Saturday morning. Every flash bargain and value-sized item bent to her will for a chance at making it to her humble abode and fulfilling its one purpose in life. Employees greeted her like royalty. Customers started conversations like old friends, always giving her the scoop on any sale they'd overheard in their neighborhood Facebook groups. She was happy. She was zen. She was in her element.

"Do you need this?" 

She was a woman dragging around a large man intent on breaking any modicum of concentration she had left.

Patrice stopped and looked over her shoulder at Terry, who held a bag of cotton candy grapes up in the air for her inspection. "No, TJ. Put it down." 

"Why? You like grapes." 

"Because we're getting grapes from the farmer's market. Now, put it back."

Her rebuke was sweet but stern. Having him as a way too familiar roommate was becoming easier as the days passed. But she'd be lying if she said she didn't miss the freedom to go for a walk, watch a movie on the couch, or even enjoy an intimate moment alone in her own house without a man looming somewhere in the very near background. 

He didn't allow her to travel alone, and she never had the energy to protest. 

"You don't have to talk to me like I'm a kid," he grumbled as he put the grapes back in their place.

"Then stop acting like one. I have a list. I know what I need." 

"I know what I need." He exaggerated his mimicry for maximum effect. 

"You see how that was childish?" 

"Whatever." 

Patrice ignored him in favor of browsing packages of beef for the best deal. If she didn't respond, maybe he would get the hint. And, for a few moments, he did. Terry took a break in conversation to scan the immediate area quietly. He noted each patron and their most important details before checking the exit and entry points at the front of the store. They weren't secure enough, but he could manage if the situation required evacuation.

A lack of action soon turned his attention back to Patrice, who still hadn't decided. He gave her a slow once over and smiled at how much focus she put into such a simple choice. Her brow remained furrowed in intense thought, transforming her into the ninth-grade Patrice he met during a chance encounter in the library. Truthfully, he didn't have much of an opinion either way. He just wanted to talk to her every second of the day, even if it meant being annoying. 

"Get that one." 

His sudden interruption startled Patrice out of her zone, adding a final straw to an already exhausted camel's back. Terry grinned in triumph as she closed her eyes for a calming breath. 

"Terry," she spoke, slow and measured to keep the peace. "Take the other half of this list and get out of my face. Don't come back until you find everything. I'll meet you at the register." 

She didn't give him much time to protest before she shoved a carefully torn half of paper into his chest and sent him on his way. He gave her a sarcastic salute, which she waved off without a second look. She needed a moment alone and didn't care if he came back with Fruity O's instead of Fruit Loops if that meant he would be out of her hair for more than 10 minutes. 

Terry found himself slowly meandering around the grocery store with a tiny basket in tow, exhausted by all the options on each aisle. If Patrice hadn't been so meticulous with her lists, he would've given up on the mission and gone back to home base with his tail tucked between his legs. 

After sourcing the perfect pint of Oreo ice cream as an apology for his behavior, Terry found himself drawn to the sound of laughter on the next aisle. Sure enough, Patrice was parked by the frozen vegetables and engaged with a man dressed in the store's colors with his eyes directed far too low to be looking at Patrice's face. 

Terry quickly reached her location, stopping behind Patrice to show her guest the full extent of his scowl. 

Patrice noticed how his once loose body language had gone stiff and sighed. She didn't need to investigate the problem. Only her human pitbull could make a man cower in fear like that. 

"Derrick, this is Terry. Terry, this is Derrick. He usually helps me get stuff to my car." 

"Ah, man. It's a good thing I'm here, right? We don't need you taking too many breaks from stocking. Mornin' rush can get crazy." 

"Terry," Patrice admonished with a harsh whisper and an elbow to his stomach. 

Terry remained steadfast, keeping his eyes on Derrick while taking one step closer. A taunting smile tugged on the right side of his mouth. He waited on any sign of fight from his unspoken adversary. 

Derrick stood in palpable discomfort, sizing up the outcomes if he decided to test his luck. Each mental scenario led him back to some instance of physical harm on his last shift of the week. He had plans for the weekend, none involving a trip to the emergency room.

Patrice stood between a rock and a hardheaded man, praying that the Lord would end her suffering.

"That's what I was about to say," Derrick answered before shifting his attention back to Patrice. "I think I oughta get going. See you around, Ms. Ellis?" 

"Same time next week." 

He nodded in half-hearted agreement and hurried out of dodge, with Terry keeping a watchful eye until he was safely around the corner. 

Patrice groaned with one hand, rubbing tight circles at her temple. "What in the hell was that about?" 

"He wouldn't even look you in the eye. If he can't look you in the eye when he's speaking, he can't protect you, and he doesn't respect you." 

"I'm not looking for his protection. I need this water loaded into my trunk every week when you aren't here!" 

"I'll never not be here. Problem solved."

His declaration was so sure, so matter of fact, that it left Patrice no room for retort. So she resorted to schoolyard antics. 

It was her turn to mock him with an exaggerated, deep voice. "Problem solved. Push the damn cart since you got so much energy." 

He obliged without protest and a proud, self-satisfied grin that Patrice couldn't see while she led the way to the register. An unexpected system error had halted all transactions, leaving them log jammed in a long line of restless customers. 

Together, they stood sharing light banter and running through weekend tasks, resembling any other couple making a store run to strangers observing them from the outside looking in. Former acquaintances, however, had no problem drawing attention to the pair from three spots back in line. 

"I know that ain't who I think it is." Both Patrice's and Terry's eyes darted up to find the source of the loud outburst, only to whisper 'fuck’ in tandem when they spotted Katrina Spivey waving her arms to grab their attention. "Hey, Terry Richmond!" 

Terry pretended to ignore being singled out by turning his back, earning a stifled laugh from Patrice. Katrina, not one to be deterred, used the moment to push past patrons in line until she reached her destination with a host of angry faces in her wake. 

"Well, if it ain't Mr. and Miss Homecoming in the flesh. You two finally stopped kidding around and got married?" 

"No," Terry answered without much explanation, his back still turned. Patrice reluctantly made up his slack. 

"What Terry meant to say was that we're not married. We're not together at all, actually. But he's here to visit me for a while." 

"What a blessing it is to have friends you can lean on when you need a helping hand."

"Amen."

An awkward tension settled into the conversation's lull, compounded by Terry's outright refusal to engage. Patrice was in deep water without a paddle and a co-captain who had already jumped ship.

Katrina wouldn't let the conversation end and take her newfound place in line. She continued to pry.

"Both of y'all look good! How long has it been since we last saw each other, huh? Gotta be since Terry's graduation send-off." 

Patrice feigned interest with a hollow smile. "Yeah, I think that was it. A looong time ago. All grown up now."

"And thank God for it! I remember how sad you looked all night because ol' Terry was moving away. Like a little crying puppy!" 

Katrina's laughter didn't quite reach Terry or Patrice, who bristled at mentioning one of the more contentious nights in their friendship. 

"Everybody's been a little young and dumb, right? Like when you and BJ got caught underneath the bleachers during state championships." 

Checkmate. A little reminder of her indiscretions had turned Katrina's condescending smile into a mean mug that could burn through anyone not equally as stubborn. 

Terry showed his approval with a light nudge against Patrice's arm. That was his girl. Sweet as pie but a tongue coated in venom when backed against the wall. He'd been on the receiving end on one too many occasions. It felt good to be on the winning side this time. 

Three seconds of a Western standoff had culminated in a gift sent via store intercom. 

"Apologies for the stoppage, folks. Our registers are back up and running. Thanks for your patience." 

Terry moved the cart to place items on the conveyor belt while Patrice waited for the conversation to resume.

Recovering from the sharp end of a verbal lashing, Katrina cleared her throat and grabbed hold of her cart in preparation to skip lines. 

"Well, I don't wanna hold y'all too much longer. If y'all don't think you're too good to mingle with us Francis High Hornets anymore, Corey's throwing a little Juneteenth gathering at his daddy's pool hall. This is my personal invite for the both of you."

"We were already invited. Maybe we'll make an appearance." 

"That'd be grand." 

"I bet it would."

Nice nasty smiles passed between the two foes until Katrina was off to harass some other unsuspecting patron. 

Patrice tried to let go of her frustration with an angry huff before turning to catch up with Terry, who was casually moving groceries from the bagging station to the shopping basket. He waited a moment before acknowledging the obvious. 

"You over it now, or do I need to iron a shirt for tonight?" 

"I'm over it," Patrice answered plainly. She calmly handed over payment for the day's groceries and smiled ever so sweetly to bid the cashier farewell. To an outsider, she'd returned to her zen state without much effort. Terry was no outsider and kept a cautious eye on her as they loaded bags into the trunk and got settled in the front seat of her SUV. 

"You sure you're good," he asked as he backed out of their parking space. 

"I'm sure, TJ," she answered with almost too much enthusiasm. Terry started a mental countdown for the other shoe to drop. "I'll iron the shirt. You need to shave." 

--------

The final verdict? A plain white T-shirt. 

An hour of searching, choosing, rejecting, and choosing again led them to a plain, crisp white tee. Patrice said it went better with her yellow wrap dress, which she chose because her girlfriends were all in dresses, and she wanted to match the occasion. It all sounded like made-up bullshit to Terry. Still, he accepted being treated like a Ken Doll because it meant that his Barbie would agree to a two-hour hard stop at the festivities. 

He'd already started his stopwatch when they pulled up on a busy street in front of an even busier hole in the wall.

The smell of fresh grease greeted them upon crossing the threshold from outside into Mister C's Bar and Lounge. Fried fish, French fries, and wings in any flavor you could ask for sat in the service window, waiting for their delivery to any one of the patrons packed from wall to cinderblock wall. Terry inhaled deeply and let his scowl drop for one second to fantasize about a bite of Corey Sr.'s signature catfish and fries basket. 

Next came the familiar mix of sweat and weed near the dancefloor as bodies intertwined to some GloRilla song neither of them recognized. Thick traffic in the center of the room paused Patrice on her path to the pool tables, locking her between Terry and a crowd that wouldn't budge. 

"Excuse me!" she shouted over a swell of crowd reaction to a new song. "I need to get by!" 

No response. Not even a look back as she used a hand to create space between her and a group of men debating nonsense. Before she could try again, Terry used one hand to push her forward and his voice to clear the way. 

"Yo, step out of the way. We need to get through." Direct and to the point. He left no room for misinterpretation, and his baritone's boom left no confusion about who was calling the shots. Patrice watched with her lips slightly parted in awe. 

The first reaction to his demand was the embers of confrontation. Each member of the group sized Terry up, noticing his heavy scowl and size in comparison to their own. Then, they realized that this wasn't a winning game. 

The flashiest of the group nodded, though disdain at the mere suggestion that he was in the way kept his mouth in a tight frown. "Yeah, you good, OG. My fault." 

Another light push propelled Patrice forward as Terry maintained with each man until they had passed. 

Once they were out of the mix and nearing their destination, he advised, "Stay close." Patrice nodded her compliance, shocking Terry into a slight smile in appreciation for her obedience. 

Sparks of electricity shot between them but had no time to turn into a total current before Corey called out to them. 

"Treece! Terry! We over here!" 

Surrounded by familiar faces from Francis Edward's Class of 2010, Corey welcomed them with open arms and his ever-present 100-watt smile. At a slight 5'6", 150 on his best day, he'd always been larger than his frame would suggest. Loud and flamboyant had always been the name of his game, earning him anything he set his sights on.

It didn't take long for the trio and Corey's wife, June, to fall into familiar habits and friendly jabs at one another as they took their seats in a makeshift VIP section by the pool tables. The Three-Headed Monster was their moniker in high school, and they moved like a military force. Terry was the enforcer, while Corey and Patrice served as judge and prosecutor. If you had an issue with one, you had an issue with all three. 

"Your security is lax. Who trained them?" Terry pointed out during a dead spot in conversation. 

Corey followed his eyeline to the two young men standing at the door and back. "My boy at the sheriff's office. What you see?" 

"They look soft. It wouldn't take much to overpower them and get in for some drama. You only have one exit. Somebody breeches this place, and you're on the hook for a tragedy. Plus, the one on the left is scared. He'll be the first to leave if things get hot. Watch him."

"Impressive," June remarked, smiling at Patrice, who subtly playfully waved her off.

"Hm." Corey took a long pull from his cigar, taking in the information before responding." You here for a minute, T? I got some connections over at Liberty if you looking to get back in the swing of things." 

"Contract?" 

"Whatever you need, man. You know I'm good for it."

Terry looked over at Patrice for some indication that she believed in Corey, and she returned with a subtle nod and encouraging smile. June looked between them and then at her husband before clearing her throat. 

"It looks like Kel and his boy are back on the pool table. You know he still owes you a game from when he cheated last week." 

"Hell yeah," Corey agreed as he turned in his seat to get a look at his enemy. "Aye, T, you trynna make $100 real quick?" 

"It's either that or you gotta come dance with me," Patrice challenged. "This rum and pineapple got me feeling a little loose." 

She wasn't lying. A taste of alcohol in her system was starting to make her want to explore parts of the Patrice she thought she left at North Carolina A&T. Every heart-rattling thump of Megan Thee Stallion's latest and greatest had her thinking about reminding everyone in the room that she could move with the best of them. 

Her little grind in her seat made Terry show teeth in a small grin before he stood to his full height and looked down at her. His eyes were hooded and dreamy from some combination of exhaustion and a contact high, reintroducing that spark from before.

"Don't go too far. I'll be back with your money in a little bit." 

Patrice's tongue felt too heavy to respond coherently past a punch-drunk nod. June watched her watch him make his way down the platform and into the crowd until both men were out of earshot. 

She whistled and shook her head. "That's a good-looking man, ain't he?" 

"Who? Corey? He alright. He's like a slightly more attractive Taye Diggs." 

"First off, ouch," June laughed. "Second, I was talking about Terry. He was cute in high school, but I'll be damned if that second puberty didn't take him to a whole 'nother level." 

"Don't tell him that. His head is big enough."

"You know you wrong for that." If the music weren't so loud, everyone in the building would've heard the pair guffawing over Patrice's petty insult. 

Once they contained themselves, June took a sip from her margarita and shifted in her seat to get closer to Patrice.

"He likes you still." Five plain words shook Patrice internally as she struggled to maintain a poker face. June continued. "I see the way he looks for your approval and damn near trips on himself to fulfill your every whim. You're all he talks about when he and Corey get on the phone." 

"They talk?" 

"From time to time. I think he needs a man's opinion sometimes, you know?" 

Patrice wrestled with the influx of information as June continued. 

"That man is mean as a snake. Always has been and always will be. But, you bring something out of him. Even if you can't always see it." 

"If that were the case, things would've been different for us back then." 

June shrugged. "Maybe. Or maybe you're right where you're supposed to be. I know I can't make you do what you don't wanna do, but if what I say means anything, focus on today. Thirty-two-year-old Terry is so much more prepared to love you than eighteen-year-old Terry was." 

Punctuating her advice, June tapped Patrice's leg twice before taking a step away to refill their tray of food. 

Focus on today.

The words replayed in her mind repeatedly; even after their two hours were up, Terry had returned $100 richer, and they were back on the road to their quiet slice of the world. 

They rode together in content quiet, letting the Quiet Storm host talk while Terry tapped his fingers on the steering wheel in time with the music. 

Randomly, he would glance in her direction, assuming she had lost the sleep battle to her old friend Bacardi. When he reached over to adjust the air vent on her side of the car, he was surprised when she mumbled a low "thank you." 

"My bad. I thought you were sleeping." 

"No. My head is swimming, though. Don't let me drink that much anymore." she laughed. 

He chuckled along with her but didn't agree to keep her from letting her hair down occasionally. In his eyes, seeing her relaxed and carefree was a gift to the world. 

The opening notes of Tevin Campbell's "I'm Ready" swirled around them, sounding like a secret message to Patrice as she focused on streetlights to keep the contents of her dinner inside her stomach. 

"Hey," she whispered before she could catch herself. Terry acknowledged her with a glance. "Do you think you're still scared?" 

"Of what?" 

"Of whatever kept you away for so long?"

He thought for a moment, wanting to make sure he was clear with his word. "No. I was never afraid of you. I was afraid of bringing you along for a ride I might not survive. That's not a threat anymore. So, no, I'm not scared anymore."

You know I'm ready

To love you

Forever 

Patrice reached across the center console until she reached Terry's hand to interlock her fingers with his. He gave her an appreciative squeeze without taking his eyes off the road. 

"I-I don't think I'm scared anymore either."

Her heart raced wildly behind her ribs, and Patrice was that if Terry pressed his wrist close enough to hers, he could feel her pulse accelerate. He didn't mind either way. Sweaty palms and trembling fingers would never be enough for him to let her go. Not again. 

As if she'd break if he moved too fast, Terry brought her hand to his lips slowly. One kiss. Another. Two more. And a final one for good measure. 

When he'd had his fill of her skin, he pressed the spot up against his cheek. He needed to feel and absorb her until they were one body. 

But, for tonight at least, this was enough.

TAGS: @planetblaque @wvsspoppin @thatone-girly @oniccah @avoidthings @slutsareteacherstoo @eilujion @amyhennessyhouse

[bratzkoo]

Merging Arrangments | wonwoo pt. 1

Author: bratzkoo Pairing: chaebol heir! wonwoo x chaebol heiress!/ nurse! reader Genre: angst, fluff, eventual smut Rating: PG-15 to NC-17 Word count: 4k~ Warnings/note: for my Anna, my beautiful nurse. Happy birthday!

Everything marked with [M] have mature scenes and should not be read by minors.

summary: Jeon Wonwoo's been smitten with you for years, as the two of you enter an arranged marriage, he hopes you'll feel the same.

Arrange marriage! au

taglist (hit me up if you wanna be added): @escoupseu , @yanabaaaaaaarysheva , @spnyin , @sousydive , @gyuguys , @gyubakeries , @tokitosun , @gaslysainz , @armycarat2612

requests are open, but you can just say hi! | masterlist

The Grand Hyatt Seoul stood majestically against the backdrop of Namsan Mountain, its glass facade reflecting the late afternoon sun. Today, the luxurious hotel buzzed with an energy beyond its usual five-star opulence. It was playing host to the wedding of the year—the union of Jeon Group and Kit Medical Group through their heirs, Jeon Wonwoo and Y/N Kit.

In the grand ballroom, staff members scurried about like well-dressed ants, making last-minute adjustments to flower arrangements and place settings. Crystal chandeliers cast a warm glow over tables draped in silk, each centerpiece a small fortune of exotic blooms. The air hummed with anticipation and barely concealed gossip.

"I heard it was arranged just two months ago," a waiter whispered to his colleague as they adjusted the champagne flutes at the head table.

The other waiter nodded knowingly. "Chaebol marriages," he replied with a hint of cynicism. "Always about business, never about love."

"Shh!" hissed a nearby supervisor. "Less talking, more working. The guests will be arriving soon."

Outside, a fleet of black luxury cars began to arrive, disgorging a who's who of Korean high society. Cameras flashed as celebrities, business tycoons, and politicians made their way into the hotel, their designer outfits and dazzling jewelry a clear display of wealth and status.

---

In a luxurious suite upstairs, Y/N Kit sat before a gilded mirror, her reflection a picture of bridal perfection—and internal turmoil. Her raven hair was swept up in an intricate updo, adorned with tiny diamond-encrusted pins that caught the light with every slight movement. The wedding dress, a custom Vera Wang creation, hugged her figure before flowing out in a cascade of delicate lace and silk. Yet, her eyes, usually bright and determined, now held a hint of uncertainty, a stark contrast to the flawless makeup that adorned her face.

"Miss Y/N, you look absolutely stunning," her makeup artist gushed, stepping back to admire her work. "Like a princess from a fairy tale."

Y/N managed a weak smile, the effort evident. "Thank you," she murmured, her gaze fixed on her reflection, as if trying to recognize the woman staring back at her.

As the artist packed up her supplies, Y/N's mind drifted to two months ago, the day that had set this all in motion...

Y/N had just finished a grueling shift at the hospital, her scrubs rumpled and her hair in a messy ponytail. She'd been looking forward to a quiet evening at home, maybe catching up on some medical journals. Instead, she found her parents waiting in the living room, their faces a mix of excitement and stern determination."An arranged marriage?" Y/N had exclaimed, staring at her parents in disbelief. The words felt foreign on her tongue, like something out of a historical drama rather than her real life. "But I barely know Jeon Wonwoo!"

Her father's eyes had been steely, unyielding. "This union will secure the future of both our companies. It's your duty, Y/N. The merger with Jeon Group will allow us to expand our medical services, to help more people."

"But my nursing career—" Y/N had started, her voice trailing off as she saw the dismissive look in her mother's eyes.

"You can do charity work as a chaebol wife," her mother had interjected smoothly, reaching out to pat Y/N's hand. "It's time you left this nurse phase behind. Think of all the good you can do with the resources of both families at your disposal."

Y/N had felt the walls closing in, her carefully laid plans crumbling around her. "Don't I get a say in this?" she had asked, hating how small her voice sounded.

Her father's expression had softened slightly. "Sometimes, Y/N, we must put aside our personal desires for the greater good. This is one of those times."

A knock at the door jolted Y/N back to the present. She blinked rapidly, banishing the memory and the tears that threatened to form. The door opened to reveal her parents, her father resplendent in a bespoke tuxedo, her mother glittering with diamonds that probably cost more than most people's houses.

"Oh, darling," her mother cooed, gliding into the room with practiced grace. "You look perfect. Like a true Kit heiress."

Her father nodded approvingly, his eyes sweeping over Y/N with a businessman's attention to detail. "Remember, Y/N," he said, his voice gentle but firm, "smile for the cameras. This wedding is about more than just you and Wonwoo. It's about the future of both our families, and the thousands of people who rely on our companies."

Y/N felt her chest tighten at his words, the weight of expectation settling on her shoulders like a heavy cloak. She managed a nod, not trusting her voice to remain steady if she spoke.

As her parents left, murmuring about greeting guests, Y/N allowed herself a moment of vulnerability. She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath to center herself. The quiet was short-lived, however, as the door burst open again, admitting her best friends, Alexys and Ela.

"Wow, unnie!" Ela exclaimed, her eyes wide with admiration. "You look like a princess from a manhwa!"

Alexys whistled low, circling Y/N with an exaggerated appraising look. "A very expensive princess. I think your veil costs more than my apartment. Actually, probably more than my entire apartment building."

Despite herself, Y/N felt a laugh bubble up. "Alexys, behave!" she admonished, but there was no heat in her words.

"What?" Alexys grinned, striking a pose that was likely meant to be model-esque but came off more comical. "I'm just saying, if you need someone to carry that train, I volunteer as tribute. I could use a workout, and that dress looks heavy enough to count as weightlifting."

As they laughed, Y/N felt some of her tension ease. These were her people, the ones who knew her as just Y/N, not the Kit heiress or the future Mrs. Jeon. But as quickly as it had come, the moment of levity passed, and doubt crept back in, darkening her expression.

"I don't know if I can do this," Y/N confessed quietly, sinking onto a nearby chaise lounge. "It's all happening so fast. Two months ago, I was focused on my nursing career, on making a difference. And now..."

Ela sat beside her, squeezing her hand supportively. "You're the strongest person I know, Y/N. You'll get through this, and you'll find a way to make a difference, no matter what."

Alexys nodded, her face uncharacteristically serious as she knelt in front of Y/N. "And we'll be right here with you, every step of the way. Although," she added, a mischievous glint returning to her eye, "if you want to make a run for it, I've got a getaway car and a foolproof plan involving two wigs, a llama, and a hot air balloon."

Despite herself, Y/N giggled, the absurd image lightening her mood. "I think I'll pass on the llama plan. But thank you, both of you. I don't know what I'd do without you."

"Probably be a lot more stressed and a lot less entertained," Alexys quipped, standing up and smoothing out her bridesmaid dress. "Now, let's get you married, shall we? I've got a bet going with one of the groomsmen on whether I can catch the bouquet while doing a backflip."

As they prepared to leave the room, Y/N took one last look in the mirror. The woman looking back at her was a bride, yes, but she was also still Y/N. With her friends by her side, maybe she could face whatever came next.

---

In another suite, Jeon Wonwoo adjusted his bowtie for the thousandth time, his normally steady hands betraying his nerves. The sleek lines of his custom-tailored tuxedo accentuated his tall, lean frame, but it was his eyes that drew attention—dark, intelligent, and currently filled with a mix of anticipation and anxiety.

"You'll wear it out if you keep fiddling," Mingyu, his best friend and best man, commented from where he lounged on a nearby chair. Despite his relaxed posture, Mingyu cut an impressive figure in his own tuxedo, his easy smile a stark contrast to Wonwoo's tense expression.

Wonwoo sighed, dropping his hands and turning to face his friend. "I just want everything to be perfect. This day... it means more than anyone realizes."

Mingyu's expression softened, understanding dawning in his eyes. "You've been in love with her for years, haven't you? Y/N, I mean."

Wonwoo's silence was answer enough. His mind drifted to a charity gala five years ago, the first time he had truly seen Y/N Kit...

The ballroom had been crowded, full of Seoul's elite in expensive gowns and tuxedos. Wonwoo, then a university student being groomed to take over Jeon Group, had been making the rounds with his father, shaking hands and making small talk. That's when he had spotted her—Y/N Kit, still in high school, her eyes alight with passion as she spoke to a group of doctors.

"I want to be a nurse," she had been saying, her voice clear and determined. "Not just to follow in my family's footsteps, but to make a real difference. To be there for people when they're at their most vulnerable, to help them heal."

Wonwoo had found himself drawing closer, captivated by her enthusiasm, her compassion, her determination. In a room full of people discussing profit margins and market shares, she had been a breath of fresh air, talking about saving lives and making a difference.

That was the moment Wonwoo had fallen in love, though it had taken him some time to realize it.

"She doesn't know," Wonwoo said quietly, coming back to the present. "About my feelings, I mean. How could she? We've barely interacted outside of formal events."

Mingyu stood, clapping a hand on Wonwoo's shoulder. "Maybe this is your chance to show her, then. You're not just the Jeon heir, Wonwoo. You're a good man, with a lot to offer. Let her see that side of you."

A sharp knock interrupted them, causing both men to straighten instinctively. Wonwoo's parents entered, his father's eyes immediately zeroing in on Wonwoo's slightly askew bowtie.

"Fix that," he said brusquely, his tone leaving no room for argument. "The merger papers will be signed right after the ceremony. Everything must be perfect. The future of Jeon Group depends on this union."

Wonwoo nodded stiffly, adjusting his bowtie with practiced ease. "Yes, father. I understand the importance of today."

His mother, softer but no less focused on appearances, stepped forward to smooth an invisible wrinkle from his lapel. "You look handsome, Wonwoo-ya. Y/N Kit is a lucky girl."

As his parents left, likely to check on some other aspect of the wedding preparations, Mingyu let out a low whistle. "And I thought my parents were intense. Is it always like this?"

Wonwoo managed a weak smile, a hint of his usual dry humor showing through. "Welcome to the chaebol life, Mingyu-ya. All glamour and no pressure, right?"

Mingyu chuckled, shaking his head. "Well, if anyone can handle it, it's you. Just remember, behind all this..." he gestured vaguely at the opulent room and their formal attire, "you're still Wonwoo. The guy who stays up too late reading, who can't function without his morning coffee, and who once tried to adopt every stray cat in the neighborhood."

Wonwoo felt some of his tension ease at Mingyu's words. "Thanks, Mingyu. I don't know what I'd do without you."

"Probably be a lot more stressed and a lot less handsome," Mingyu quipped, echoing Wonwoo's earlier smile. "Now, let's get you married, shall we? I've got a best man speech to deliver, and I promise only minimal embarrassment."

As they prepared to leave the room, Wonwoo took one last look in the mirror. The man looking back at him was the Jeon heir, yes, but he was also still Wonwoo. With his best friend by his side and hope in his heart, maybe he could make this arranged marriage into something real.

---

The wedding ceremony was a blur of camera flashes and murmured vows. The hotel's grand ballroom had been transformed into a floral wonderland, with thousands of white roses and lilies creating an enchanted atmosphere. Soft classical music played as guests took their seats, a mix of Korea's business elite, celebrities, and politicians all eager to witness the union of two powerful families.

A hush fell over the crowd as the wedding march began. All eyes turned to the back of the room, where Y/N appeared, a vision in white. She walked down the aisle with measured steps, her arm linked with her father's. Her eyes were fixed straight ahead, her expression a carefully composed mask of bridal serenity.

In the front row, Alexys gave Y/N a subtle thumbs up, while Ela dabbed at her eyes with a delicate handkerchief. A few rows back, Choi Seung-cheol watched, his hands clenched tightly in his lap, his heart breaking with each step Y/N took towards another man.

At the altar, Wonwoo's breath caught as he saw Y/N. She was breathtakingly beautiful, the embodiment of grace and elegance. But it was the flash of vulnerability in her eyes, visible only for a moment as she took her place beside him, that made his heart ache. He wanted nothing more than to take her hand and tell her everything would be alright, that they could face this new chapter together.

The officiant began the ceremony, his words about love and commitment ringing with a hint of irony given the arranged nature of the marriage. As they exchanged rings, Y/N's hand trembled slightly. Wonwoo gave her fingers a gentle, reassuring squeeze. For a moment, their eyes met, and something passed between them—a flicker of understanding, perhaps even a spark of connection.

"I, Jeon Wonwoo, take you, Y/N Kit, to be my lawfully wedded wife," Wonwoo said, his voice steady and clear, infused with a warmth that surprised even him.

"I, Y/N Kit, take you, Jeon Wonwoo, to be my lawfully wedded husband," Y/N replied, her voice softer but no less resolute.

Then the officiant pronounced them husband and wife, and the moment was gone, swept away in a tide of applause and camera flashes.

---

The reception was a whirlwind of congratulations, speeches, and thinly veiled business discussions. Y/N and Wonwoo moved through it all in a daze, playing their parts perfectly—the blushing bride and the proud groom, the perfect chaebol couple.

During their first dance, Wonwoo leaned in close, the scent of Y/N's perfume filling his senses. "Are you okay?" he murmured, genuine concern in his voice.

Y/N plastered on a smile for the cameras, her eyes scanning the room even as she replied. "I'm fine," she said, her voice barely audible over the swelling music. "This is what's expected of us, isn't it? To play our parts."

Before Wonwoo could respond, to tell her that it didn't have to be just an act, the dance ended and they were once again swept into the crowd of well-wishers and business associates.

As Y/N made her rounds, graciously accepting congratulations and deflecting questions about future heirs with practiced ease, she found herself face to face with Seung-cheol. For a moment, neither spoke, the air between them thick with unspoken words and missed opportunities.

"You look beautiful," Seung-cheol finally said, his voice rough with emotion. He looked dashing in his suit, a far cry from the casual attire she was used to seeing him in at the hospital.

"Seung-cheol, I—" Y/N began, not sure what she wanted to say but feeling the need to say something.

"Congratulations," he cut her off, unable to meet her eyes. "I hope you'll be very happy." The words sounded hollow, a social nicety that did nothing to bridge the chasm that had opened between them.

He walked away before Y/N could respond, leaving her staring after him, a mix of regret and longing on her face. For a moment, she allowed herself to imagine a different world, one where she had followed her heart instead of her duty. But the moment passed, reality reasserting itself in the form of another well-wisher approaching to offer congratulations.

From across the room, Wonwoo watched the interaction between Y/N and Seung-cheol, his heart sinking. The look on Y/N's face as she watched Seung-cheol walk away spoke volumes. Wonwoo turned away, trying to quell the surge of jealousy and disappointment, only to nearly collide with Alexys.

"Whoa there, Mr. Chaebol," she said, steadying herself with a hand on his arm. "No need to sweep me off my feet. Save that for your bride." Her eyes twinkled with mischief, a stark contrast to the formal atmosphere around them.

Wonwoo blinked, taken aback by her casual tone. In his world of rigid formality, Alexys was like a breath of fresh air. "I'm sorry, I—"

Alexys waved him off. "No worries. I'm Alexys, by the way. Y/N's friend and designated baby girl." She leaned in conspiratorially, lowering her voice. "Between you and me, I think this party could use a little livening up. What do you say we spike the punch? I've got a flask of soju in my purse."

Despite himself, Wonwoo found a smile tugging at his lips. "I don't think that would be appropriate," he said, but there was a hint of amusement in his voice.

Alexys sighed dramatically. "You're right, of course. Guess I'll have to settle for embarrassing Y/N with my dance moves instead. Fair warning: I've been practicing my 'Gangnam Style'. It's not pretty, but it's enthusiastic."

As she sashayed away, hips swaying exaggeratedly, Wonwoo felt some of his tension ease. If these were Y/N's friends, maybe there was hope for them yet. Maybe, just maybe, he could find a place in this vibrant, genuine world so different from the one he'd grown up in.

The rest of the reception passed in a blur of faces and formalities. Mingyu gave a heartfelt best man speech, carefully skirting around any mention of his own secret marriage while still managing to both embarrass and honor Wonwoo. 

"I've known Wonwoo since we were kids," Mingyu said, his voice carrying across the hushed ballroom. "And I can say without a doubt that he's the most loyal, caring, and intelligent person I know. Y/N," he turned to address the bride directly, "you're not just gaining a husband today. You're gaining a partner who will stand by you, support your dreams, and probably bore you with random historical facts."

A ripple of laughter went through the crowd, and Wonwoo felt a surge of gratitude for his friend. Beside him, he felt Y/N relax slightly, a small, genuine smile playing on her lips.

As the evening wore on, business associates cornered both sets of parents, eager to discuss the implications of this new alliance. Talks of mergers, stock prices, and market expansions filled the air, a constant reminder of the true nature of this union.

Ela and Mingyu exchanged secret glances across the room, their own hidden marriage a sharp contrast to the spectacle around them. At one point, they managed to steal a moment together near the dessert table.

"How are you holding up?" Ela asked, her voice low.

Mingyu sighed, running a hand through his hair. "It's harder than I thought, watching my best friend go through this. Knowing what we have..." he trailed off, his eyes conveying what he couldn't say aloud.

Ela squeezed his hand briefly. "I know. But we have to trust that they'll find their way, just like we did."

Their moment was interrupted by Alexys, who appeared with a plate piled high with desserts. "Don't mind me," she said, noticing their startled expressions. "Just here for the cake. Carry on with your secret rendezvous."

Ela rolled her eyes fondly. "Very subtle, Alexys."

"Subtlety is overrated," Alexys replied around a mouthful of cake. "Unlike this dessert. Seriously, you two should try this before the chaebol vultures descend and devour everything."

Finally, as the evening wound down, Y/N and Wonwoo found themselves alone for a moment on a balcony overlooking the Seoul skyline. The city stretched out before them, a glittering tapestry of lights and possibilities.

"It's beautiful," Y/N murmured, gazing out at the city lights. For a moment, she allowed herself to drop the perfect bride facade, her shoulders sagging slightly with exhaustion.

Wonwoo looked at her, illuminated by the soft glow of the lanterns. The fatigue evident in the line of her shoulders, the wistfulness in her eyes as she looked out at the city – it all made her seem more real, more human than the porcelain doll she'd appeared as all day. "Yes, it is," he agreed softly, though his eyes never left her face.

Y/N turned to him, and for a moment, the masks slipped away entirely. They were just two people, thrust into an impossible situation, trying to make the best of it. The vulnerability in Y/N's eyes matched the uncertainty Wonwoo felt.

"Wonwoo, I—" Y/N began, her voice hesitant.

"Y/N, dear!" her mother's voice cut through the moment like a knife. "It's time to leave for your honeymoon. The car is waiting."

The spell broken, Y/N and Wonwoo shared a rueful look before making their way back inside. They said their goodbyes, accepted final congratulations, and made their way to the waiting car.

As they settled into the backseat of the luxury vehicle, a heavy silence fell between them. The partition between them and the driver offered a semblance of privacy, but neither seemed to know what to say now that they were truly alone.

From the steps of the hotel, Seung-cheol watched the car pull away, his heart heavy. He'd come to the wedding hoping for... what? A last-minute confession? A dramatic objection? Now, watching the taillights disappear into the Seoul traffic, he felt the finality of the situation settle over him like a weight.

Ela and Mingyu stood together, their hands brushing but not quite holding in deference to the watchful eyes around them. Their own secret weighed on them as they watched their friends drive off into an uncertain future.

Alexys stood with her arm around Ela, for once without a quip. "They'll be okay, right?" she asked, her usual bravado absent.

Ela leaned into her friend's embrace. "I hope so," she said softly. "I really hope so."

The parents watched with satisfaction, already planning their next moves. Mergers to finalize, press releases to craft, the future of their empires to secure.

As the car merged into the Seoul traffic, Y/N and Wonwoo sat side by side, not touching, each lost in their own thoughts. The future stretched out before them, uncertain and daunting. The weight of expectations, of duty, of their own conflicted feelings – it all seemed overwhelming in the quiet of the car.

But as the city lights blurred past the windows, something shifted. Almost imperceptibly, Y/N's hand moved closer to Wonwoo's on the leather seat between them. And after a moment's hesitation, he took it, giving it a gentle squeeze.

They didn't look at each other. They didn't speak. But in that small gesture lay the tiniest seed of hope for Wonwoo – a hope that maybe, just maybe, they could face this uncertain future together. That perhaps, in time, duty could become desire, and an arranged marriage could become something real.

As the car wound its way through the streets of Seoul, taking them towards their honeymoon and the beginning of their life together, that small point of contact between them seemed to hold all the possibility in the world.

[diamonddaze01]

hello tara it’s me

if you’re still taking prompts for your game could i maybe suggest 40 “Are you okay?” “Why do you ask?” “You’re wearing two different shoes.” for our seokminnie?

kthnxbaiiiii

mismatched

pairing: seokmin x reader | wc: 1.0k prompt: “Are you okay?” “Why do you ask?” “You’re wearing two different shoes.” a/n: BENNIE HELLO! i loved writing this and honestly it was just what i needed after work today lol

The day had been relentless. Emails piled up like bricks in a wall, each one heavier than the last. Deadlines loomed, impossible to meet, and the cherry on top was your client—someone who, apparently, had made it their life’s mission to leave you frazzled and questioning your career choices. By the time you got home, your shoulders ached, your head throbbed, and the walls of your apartment felt closer than ever, suffocating in their silence.

You didn’t mean to text Seokmin. At least, not like that. You had typed it out and hit send without overthinking it: "Today sucked. Can I call you later?" Short, vague, but enough to convey the weight pressing down on you.

Seokmin had always been good at sensing when you needed him. Maybe it was the years of friendship, the countless moments you’d spent together, teetering on the edge of something more but never quite diving in. Still, you hadn’t expected him to show up at your door less than twenty minutes later.

When the doorbell rang, you frowned, dragging yourself off the couch. You opened the door, and there he was, panting slightly as if he’d sprinted the whole way. His scarf hung lopsided around his neck, and his coat was barely on, one sleeve dangling at his side. His hair was tousled from the wind, and his cheeks were flushed a deep pink from the cold.

“Seokmin?” you asked, startled. “What are you doing here?”

“Are you okay?” he asked, skipping right past pleasantries. His wide, dark eyes were locked on yours, scanning your face like he could piece you back together just by looking.

You blinked, caught off guard. “Why do you ask?”

“You’re wearing two different shoes,” you added, pointing to his feet before he could answer.

He glanced down, and the realization hit him like a truck. His left foot wore a white Adidas sneaker with faint blue accents, while his right foot was clad in a scuffed brown leather boot.

“Oh,” he muttered, ears turning crimson. “I didn’t notice.”

“You didn’t notice?” Your voice wavered between disbelief and the beginnings of a laugh.

“I came as soon as I got your text!” he protested, lifting his hands in defense. The plastic bag he carried swung dangerously close to hitting him in the face. “You said you had a bad day, and I thought maybe—maybe you needed me, or something.”

His words settled in your chest, warm and grounding. Your lips twitched despite yourself, the first hint of a smile breaking through the exhaustion that had weighed you down all day.

“Seokmin,” you said, stepping aside, “you didn’t have to rush over.”

“I wanted to,” he said softly, ducking his head as he stepped inside. His mismatched shoes squeaked against the floor, a detail so absurd it made you want to laugh and cry at the same time.

“What’s in the bag?” you asked, nodding toward the plastic he still clutched in his hand.

“Soup,” he said, holding it up like an offering. “And snacks.” He hesitated, then added sheepishly, “I panicked. I just grabbed the first things I thought might help.”

You couldn’t hold back the soft laugh that bubbled up. “Soup is a solid choice.”

He grinned at that, the kind of radiant smile that made your chest flutter no matter how many times you’d seen it. “See? I know what I’m doing.”

The two of you settled on the couch, and Seokmin insisted on heating up the soup despite your protests. You let him, partly because you didn’t have the energy to argue and partly because watching him move around your tiny kitchen—still wearing those mismatched shoes—was strangely comforting.

When he returned, he handed you the bowl with a dramatic flourish. “For the most amazing person I know,” he declared, settling beside you with his own bowl.

“Flattery won’t fix my day,” you said, though the corners of your mouth betrayed you, lifting into a smile.

“Maybe not,” he replied, “but it might help a little.”

And it did. As you ate, you told him about your day—the impossible client, the mountain of emails, the way your boss barely acknowledged your effort. Seokmin listened intently, nodding in all the right places and throwing in the occasional comment that made you laugh despite yourself.

“You’re amazing, you know that?” he said after a pause, his voice quieter now.

“Don’t start,” you said, though your cheeks warmed at the sincerity in his tone.

“I mean it.” He set his empty bowl aside and turned to face you fully, his gaze soft but unwavering. “You’re amazing, and I hate that you don’t see it.”

His words caught you off guard, and for a moment, all you could do was stare at him. Before you could muster a response, he leaned in, brushing a soft, tentative kiss against your forehead.

Your breath hitched, and when he pulled back, his eyes searched yours, as if he was waiting for a sign that he hadn’t overstepped.

“Seokmin…”

“I’m sorry,” he said quickly, his voice barely above a whisper. “I just—I wanted to make you feel better. Did it work?”

A small laugh escaped you, unbidden and warm. “A little.”

“Just a little?” He pouted, leaning closer, and before you could respond, his lips brushed yours—soft, warm, and lingering. The kiss sent a jolt through you, scattering your thoughts and melting away the tension that had clung to you all day.

When he pulled back, his smile was smaller this time, less teasing but no less radiant. “How about now?”

You laughed again, this time from somewhere deep in your chest. “Okay, fine. It worked.”

“Good.” He leaned back against the couch, propping his mismatched shoes up on the coffee table with zero shame.

By the time the evening wound down, your bad day felt like a distant memory, replaced by the warmth of Seokmin’s presence. You glanced at him one last time before heading to bed, and for the first time in hours, you felt okay. Maybe even better than okay.

send me an ask for my drabble game!

[dee-writes-anime]

Late Night Cravings with Toge Inumaki

FEATURING Toge Inumaki x Reader

SUMMARY It's 3am and you could really go for some nachos

CONTENT WARNINGS pregnancy trope, Toge being the biggest sweetheart, cutie fluffy stuff, I desperately need a nap, DETAILED mansplain of how I like my nachos mmmmm, cod roe :0

AUTHORS NOTE I promise I'm not dead, I've just been a little preoccupied with mental breakdowns and my coursework. ANYWHO, I hope you all enjoy this short little Toge shaped treat as my apology. I promise I will get to your requests soon, I've just been a little busy rotting away.

SERIES MASTERLIST

The clock on your nightstand read 3:24 a.m., and there you were, wide awake with an undeniable craving gnawing at you. It started as a faint whisper in your mind, a vague notion of something savory and warm. But within moments, it was as if your whole body was practically screaming for it. You tried to ignore it, rolling onto your other side and taking a few deep breaths, hoping you might fall back asleep. But the craving just got stronger. It was nachos that you wanted, and not just any nachos—ones with thick, gooey layers of cheese, topped with plenty of spicy jalapeños, all seasoned perfectly.

Sighing, you glanced at Toge, who was fast asleep beside you. You knew waking him up at this hour was ridiculous, but at the same time, there was no way you could satisfy the craving yourself. Your feet were sore, your back ached, and standing in the kitchen for that long just felt out of the question. So, after a moment of consideration, you gently nudged him. “Toge, honey,” you whispered softly, your fingers grazing his arm.

He stirred, his eyes fluttering open, squinting at you in the dim light of the room. “Salmon?” he murmured, his voice groggy but with a hint of concern. He shifted slightly, reaching for your hand with sleepy gentleness.

“I know it’s silly,” you whispered, your cheeks heating. “But I really need some nachos. Like, really cheesy ones, with jalapeños and a little extra salt. And I need them right now.”

There was a moment of silence as Toge took in your words, processing your request in his half-asleep state. And then, in typical Toge fashion, his mouth curved into the smallest, knowing smile, his eyes crinkling with warmth. “Tuna mayo,” he responded in a soft voice, which you knew translated to don’t worry, I’ve got you covered.

Slowly, he pushed himself up and stretched, giving you a quick, sleepy peck on your forehead before slipping out of bed. He held out his hand, gesturing for you to come with him. Smiling, you slipped your hand in his, letting him lead you to the kitchen. The quiet warmth of his presence made you feel like waking him up wasn’t such a selfish idea after all.

In the kitchen, he quickly assessed what he’d need, giving you a gentle nudge toward a bar stool at the counter so you could sit and relax. His hand grazed your belly as you settled, and you felt the baby kick lightly, almost as if they were getting excited along with you. Toge noticed the movement too, his eyes lighting up as he pressed a soft palm against your stomach, feeling the tiny kick. He chuckled softly, his expression turning playful as he raised an eyebrow, as if to say, Nachos for both of you, huh?

He went to work with silent efficiency, pulling out a bag of tortilla chips, a block of sharp cheddar, a handful of shredded mozzarella, and a little container of jalapeños. You watched as he grated the cheese with the focus and dedication he brought to everything, making sure each piece was perfectly even. You couldn’t help but admire how his hands moved, steady and precise, as he worked through his drowsiness.

A few minutes later, Toge spread the chips evenly on a baking sheet, layering them carefully with cheese and jalapeños. He added a few special touches he knew you’d love: a sprinkle of smoky paprika, a dash of garlic powder, and a little drizzle of honey, which he knew balanced out the spice and added a unique sweetness. You hadn’t even thought of that last part, but the smell alone made your mouth water.

When the nachos were finally in the oven, he came over to stand beside you, his arm wrapping around your shoulders as you both leaned against the counter. He had this peaceful look on his face, and he squeezed you gently, pressing a light kiss to your temple. You could tell he wasn’t annoyed or even inconvenienced by the request. In fact, he seemed to be enjoying himself, glad to have a reason to take care of you and, by extension, the baby.

While the nachos baked, you both waited in companionable silence, Toge occasionally glancing at you with a warm look in his eyes, his thumb gently rubbing your shoulder. Eventually, the oven timer beeped, and he moved to pull out the tray. The aroma of melted cheese, spicy jalapeños, and a hint of honey filled the air, and you could practically feel your mouth watering.

Toge carefully plated the nachos, making sure to spread them out so each chip had a balanced mix of toppings. He set the plate in front of you with a soft smile, his eyes filled with affection and pride, as if he’d just finished creating a masterpiece.

You took a deep breath, savoring the smell, then reached for a nacho, giving him a thankful glance before you took your first bite. The mix of salty cheese, spicy jalapeño, and that touch of honey was perfect. Toge had gotten every single element just right, down to the exact amount of salt you were craving. You sighed contentedly, the happiness you felt translating into a soft, grateful smile.

“Mm, this is amazing,” you mumbled around a mouthful of nachos, your eyes half-closed in bliss. Toge watched you with a quiet laugh, his own expression softened, clearly pleased by how happy you looked. He pulled a stool closer, resting his chin on his hand as he watched you eat, every so often reaching over to swipe a chip himself.

As you both continued to munch away, you felt a gentle flutter from your belly, a little kick from the baby, as if they, too, were grateful for the midnight snack. Toge’s eyes darted to your stomach, his smile widening as he placed a gentle hand there, feeling the tiny movements under his palm. He looked up at you, a silent exchange passing between you as he leaned in to press a soft kiss on your forehead, then on your belly.

“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice filled with affection. Toge’s hand found yours, his fingers warm as they laced with yours, his violet eyes soft and full of love. He didn’t need words to tell you how much he cared; it was in every little action, in every quiet smile, and in every nacho he made just the way you liked.

TAGLIST

@makingtimemine @strawbrrycat @soraya-daydreams @shokosbunny @saltypuffin1040 @danilights2021 @startwithrecords @obeythebutler @sparklykeylime @surielstea

[animeyanderelover]

Chrollo and avatar!fem!reader, please 😭😭

Fun fact: I have never watched Avatar The Last Airbender before. I only watched some episodes during my childhood when the show aired on TV so do forgive me if I got something wrong.

Tw: Yandere themes, possessive behavior, obsession, manipulation, stalking, blackmailing, isolation, abduction, murder, fem! s/o

Taglist: @jamayah @chxxz @leveyani @cynniical @shenryu-sama @maggiequinn59

Avatar reader

📖​The Avatar, the embodiment of peace and light. And you, chosen as the next reincarnation who will master all four elements to eventually surpass all other bender and bring with you balance and harmony. Yet when the world needed the Avatar the most, she disappeared. This is the tale passed down through generations, a tale reminiscent of the contents you would find inside a children's book. The world offers much that is still left to be discovered and every tale always has a grain of truth in it. It's through the words of a dying monk who used to be your teacher that Chrollo receives a taste of the fascination that will one day bring with it an obsession. Fickle candlelight symbolising the life about to extinct, half of his face dipped into darkness as apathetic eyes watch with a strange sense of curiosity the skinny man. Bedridden and blind yet with a soul far wiser than many people Chrollo has ever met, milky eyes unable to see yet still able to perceive the harbinger of chaos and death sitting right next to him in the last minutes of his life. Chrollo only slightly bemoans that he is not able to steal the Nen of the wise monk yet he leaves with a treasure much more precious in the end.

📖​Fools have been chasing after legends and its promised treasures for millenia and perhaps from the outside it may appear as if Chrollo is faring no better yet he doesn't wish for the truth to be handed out to him on a silver plate. There is enjoyance he finds within the hunt, each little hint he discovers only adding to the anticipation. Other treasure, whilst satisfying him for brief moments, do not fulfill him. It is you who he desires most to find and to claim for you hold secrets and powers that he wishes to have for himself. Dedication and patience are virtues Chrollo practices each and every day as time passes in leaps, days turning into weeks and weeks into months. Until one day he finally finds what he has been seeking for such a long time. A short hint of melancholy is on his face as she strides over to the wall of ice you are frozen into, tiny needles of coldness stabbing into his skin as he lays his palm against the frozen material separating him from you. It's strange. Both of you have never met before yet finally seeing you feels almost like meeting an old friend he hasn't seen in years. If only you would know how long he has searched and waited for you.

📖​Asleep for an entire century only to be thrown into a world who is in many aspects still the same yet simultanously so different. You are unprepared when you are woken up from the slumber you accidentally put yourself into, the only companion from old times still left being your flying bison. There are many unfamiliar faces that surround you as soon as you open your eyes and with no living peers left and awake in a world you fail to understand you find yourself attempting to befriend those new people with an underlying sense of desperation and loneliness. It's those emotions that Chrollo intends to use against you, luring you innocent butterfly in his spider's net to trap you and devour you. You're alone, you're scared and you're vulnerable even if you may hide it under your reckless and humorous facade. There is none of the wise intuition in you that your deceased teacher possessed which would have made everything more difficult for Chrollo. Animals have always had a keen intuition though so it is your flying bison that greatly distrusts him, sensing the demon's hands trying to touch it. Truly a shame for it is such a majestic creature. He wonders just what price he'd get for this species.

📖​It is like watching a child discover the world around it, only that he is dealing with a grown adult. You have an adventurous and free spirit much like the wind, frequently taking detours much to the annoyance for some of the other members of the troupe. Chrollo asks them all for patience though for you are much too precious and interesting to be thrown away right away. Years he has searched for you so he does not intent to steal your abilities right away. No, he intends to get to know the real you and not the you in all the old books and stories that he has sought out over time. He's fascinated with your soul, so young and yet so old and the connection with your previous lives that slumber somewhere within you. So he allows your shenanigans for he needs to gain your full trust, listens intently whenever you're willing to share your stories from your childhood and your time spent with the monks who raised you and trained you. Hide it as much as you may, he spots that hint of guilt and sadness as the knowledge that all the people that you treasured have been dead for years is a weight heavy to carry. Your pain is the path he needs to get closer to you though so he wishes for you to dwell in your sorrow.

📖​Your mindset is one that he is not able to understand and it only draws him closer to his nearing obsession. Raised by monks you were taught that all life is precious, a lesson he has never heard before. After all he grew up in Meteor City where humans were equal to trash. To be abandoned, neglected and forever forgotten about. Yet here you are, telling him that all life is equally worth? It is amusing yet Chrollo knows that reality is rarely as pretty as the ideals you believe in. A part of him wishes to drag you down that corrupted path, to destroy your beliefs and see your conviction shatter under the weight of reality. Another part of him almost wishes to shelter such purity so you may always remain naive and believe in your lessons passed down by your teachers. Such power as you possess is truly not fit for one unwilling to yield it. There is no conflict won through words and hopes as corruption and violence will always follow. Chrollo has observed humans long enough to realise that only few are as foolish as you are. The foolish ones are usually always the first ones to die as they are the ones who are trampled on, nothing more as a stepping stones for others.

📖​He's been the hand holding you and guiding you ever since you awoke from your sleep and now this very hand is unwilling to let go, clutching tightly to you as it drags you with it. You will not leave his side. Years he has invested and dedicated to find you and now that Chrollo finally has you he finds himself unable to get rid of you. You are the missing piece of his puzzle, the air he needs to breathe, the fire that warms him, the water that sustains his life, the earth that stabilises him. It is no longer a want but a need that is now driving him. He needs you with him. Now. Tomorrow. Forever. Whilst he is no fervent believer in God or the holy faith even Chrollo can't deny how truly ironic it is that the person who is the answer to so many of his questions was frozen in time only for him to find her. Actions need to be made fast for you progress much too fast with your bending abilities. Whilst you lack experience still and haven't yet mastered your entire powers Chrollo does not wish to risk a confrontation with you though he knows that you could never harm him or any of the other members. After all the Phantom Troupe are the first friends you made after being freed from the ice you were kept in.

📖​Haven't you always been secretly burdened by the fate chosen for you without you ever having been able to decide for yourself? Haven't you always secretly wished to be normal like everyone else? You've shared your insecurities and wishes with Chrollo, revealed bits of your heart to him which he greedily clutches to his own empty chest as every secret of yours fulfills him a bit more. You've shared your pain and your guilt with him and now he offers you to free you from all those chains tying you up. His Nen ability should be able to remove the Avatar spirit from you. He can give you the freedom you have always wished for secretly. To your own lament you recognise his true colours much too late, your heart weeping as you see the Phantom Troupe in their full capabilities. The kindness they have shown you and the love that Chrollo has fed you with have all been real yet were only parts of their true selves you find yourself now confronted with. You see them as no monsters though as most people would deem them, your eyes instead only seeing lost souls who have wandered on the wrong path. You wish to save them somehow yet deep down you know that they have all already chosen their paths.

📖​Only then does Chrollo reveal his true self to you, a merciless and apathetic man who sees humans no different to puppets. You will not escape him. Not now after he has finally found the heart he has been missing all along in you. He blackmails you, tugs at your heartstrings as he knows how deeply you care for him and his troupe yet he also frightens you as he threatens to involve innocent people and even dares to threaten Appa, your treasured friend. He truly doesn't wish to fight you and he already knows that you are no fighter yourself, prefering a pacifistic solution. Even if you should narrowly escape the net of the spider though as you flee with Appa know that you will never be truly free. Chrollo will hunt you down, follow every trace of you and burn down entire cities until he has you once more. You can run but you can't hide forever. Not from him. Even if he shouldn't find you in this life he is willing to step into truly forbidden territory. If the soul of the first Avatar has been able to be reincarnated then there is a chance that he might be able to reincarnate his soul with yours as well. Little spider, he will chase after you even after death, his soul always chasing after yours.

[strawbeerossi]

Tiny Dancer

Pairing: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid

Description: After Spencer meets you while you are on an undercover mission, it isn’t long until you two get to know each other. After your first date together, you give him a few lessons.

Content/Warnings: Awkward Spencer, strip club, minor case matter, lap dancing, cumming in pants.

Word Count: 2.8K

Kinktober Day Nineteen: Lingerie

Navigation || Kinktober Masterlist || AO3

This is my least favorite fic. I apologize in advance.

“Are we sure this is a good idea?” Emily asked, gazing at the front of the strip club where Aaron was smoothening out his suit jacket and glancing at her and Spence.. “One million percent. Don’t get too distracted here. I have a friend who is in sex crimes working undercover to catch someone who is taking advantage of strippers and call girls. She agreed to meet us but you have to be prepared for the way she’s going to talk to us. It’s not going to be a traditional interview.”

The two agents looked between each other in confusion. What did he mean by that? Regardless, they both walked inside the not too busy club. This was a more upscale place, one of the strip clubs that kept the high paying men of the city anonymous, able to enjoy the likes of a the establishment without someone going back and telling wives, girlfriends, or employers. The safety due to the membership only status worked out in their favor, only having to flash their badges and mentioning they needed to scope out the place before they were let inside.

Once in the dimly lit building, Aaron’s gaze was scanning the room before his eyes landed just on the undercover agent they were looking for. You had gotten the hint he was here to see you, so you were moving away from the man you were currently talking to before twirling your hair around your finger. “Hi sweetheart. Looking for a dance today?” You asked sweetly, glancing back at the other agents who were waiting as well.

“Yes. My friends and I woulda actually like to ask for a private dance. Is that something we could do?” Your gaze lingered on one particular agent; Spencer Reid. He was a living legend around the FBI due to his intellect, of course you’d heard about him around the office. “I charge extra for groups.” You added soon after, which you were leading the three agents back to the safety of the private room while you closed the door. “I really wish you would text me before you do something like this.” You scolded Aaron while holding a hand out to take the money he was getting out of his wallet. The cameras in the room made it hard to have a normal conversation, you having to play along to the private dance fantasy.

After pushing the bills into the babydoll lingerie top, you were going to the pole in the middle of the room. “I know. However this is an emergency that I didn’t plan for. One of our victims worked here. Her name was Amanda Raymond. What can you tell us about her?” Aaron stated as if there wasn’t a half naked woman in the room that had Spencer’s face bright red and Emily practically drooling at the sight.

“Mandy?” You asked, smile faltering hearing about how your missing friend was in fact dead. “She was a sweet girl. I mean, she worked damn near every night to support her son.” Your leg hooked around the pole as you did a spin around it, ultimately moving away. “She hasn’t left with anyone that I know of. I mean she had some sketchy regulars but I can get you their information,” You shrugged, moving to straddle Emily’s lap while laughing at her reaction. “Prentiss, stay focused.” You’d teased, smiling as you could feel her soft hands against your hips as she cleared her throat.

“Right, sorry. Anyone in particular that you have both serviced?” She asked, unable to help her gaze over your exposed body. How was she gonna look you in the eye around the office after this?!

“There’s Michael Lewis. He’s actually a deputy on the police force. He’s really violent. He’s left bruises on my arms and hips before whenever security couldn’t get here fast enough.” You’d answered, thinking it over. “And Trevor Brown, a college professor who likes to try and take every dancer home,” You responded, laughing a bit as the raven haired woman was pushing a twenty in your lingerie top before you were moving to Spencer.

He looked like he was gonna pass out the minute you were bending down in front of him, continuing on with your dance routine as you let your hips play with some rock song playing over the speakers of the private room. “Y-you-“ Spencer was bright red, adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he clutched the arm of the leather sofa. The outfit left very little to the imagination. “I’m sorry.” He squeaked while his eyes were diverting their gaze from your ass perched in his face. “You said that they’ve t-touched you, I can assume it was insitent?” Spencer asked, his own hands itching to touch your soft skin. “Yeah. They weren’t very kind and they were pushy. I’m sure you’ve seen the type on the field. I’m just sure they don’t grab you the way they’ve grabbed me.”

You turned to face Spencer again as your arms loosely draped around his shoulder, your tantalizing hips having Spencer drunk in the moment. The genius would think you were doing this on purpose, almost as if you enjoyed the act of teasing him and rendering him speechless. He had to admit that he was definitely a fan. He just wished his boss and coworker wasn’t with him, this interview would’ve gone just a tad different. “I can give you their information. I’ve had them leave their numbers and some business cards as if I would ever talk to them outside of this job.” You added, your dance coming to an end anyway as you were heading to a stack of cards and such.

The girls had gotten used to tossing any kind of numbers or other things on one of the tables in the room. Sifting through the numbers, you were smiling whenever you came across the two cards. “I really do think they should be watched closely.” You spoke while handing a card to Aaron. Now you were going to tease Spencer more, putting the card between your teeth before heading over to bend in front of him once more, leaning in close so he could retrieve the card.

Due to his germaphobia, he definitely wasn’t taking into his mouth, however he slowly took the car as his honey colored eyes were overshadowed by lust and embarrassment from seeing how much of an effect you had on him. “You three get out of here safely. Don’t call too much attention to yourselves. I’m not saying there is anyone here who could hurt you at the moment but.. Feds around here would terrify the mass amounts of customers who are trying to stay on the downlow.”

The three agents were getting up from the couch as they had gotten all the intel they needed. “Alright. You three keep your heads down.” You spoke while walking them over to open the door. There were a few moments where Spencer was stopped, his gaze on you. “Got a business card you wanna add to our table?” You couldn’t help but tease him, a smirk on your face. “What if I uh..” He was awkwardly reaching in his pocket, getting out a card with his number in it before he caught you off guard, slipping the card into your cleavage. The bold move was overshadowed by his embarrassed little blush, a shaky laugh leaving his lips. “Please don’t put it on the table. I’d rather have you contact me directly.” He said softly, only glancing back when he could hear Emily calling his name. “We gotta go but.. Call me?”

“You got it, Dr. Reid. Go save some lives.” You grinned, waving him off as you were walking out of the private room again to get right back to your post.

After that, the BAU did what they did best. They caught the man on a murderous rampage against sex workers, his view of them as being dirty and deserving the release of death to forgive them of their sins. Which you never understood but hey, you weren’t a psychopath so it made sense why you didn’t understand.

You’d been texting Spencer throughout the week, mostly just small talk while his awkwardness and shyness translated to messages as well. You found it endearing. He was a charming man who did have a small confidence issue but you were happy to tell him just how attractive he was and help the best you can to boost that confidence without making his ego inflating too much. You’d both agreed to meet up for coffee on a Sunday morning, the both of you meeting at a small cafe in DC.

“I’m glad you came. I was nervous you wouldn’t.” Spencer admitted as you were sitting at one of the outdoor tables with him, a smile on your face as you sipped from the cup in your hand. “Why wouldn’t I come? I’ve liked talking to you! It’s been an honor to get to know you, honestly. I mean, you’re very well known around the FBI as a whole so actually meeting you is nice rather than just hearing about you.”

The words had him blushing, hand rubbing the back of his neck. “Well, I’m just not used to asking anyone out. Which I mean, if you don’t want this to be considered that I understand.” He spoke while you were letting one hand gently pat his hand resting against the table.

“Well. You did a great job asking me! I also have to say that I don’t want this to end early. How about we go back to my apartment? I know how much you love Doctor Who and I have the whole classic series! I like the earliest seasons but I am willing to watch what you want.” You added with a smile, Spencer not daring to turn it down as you were pushing themselves to stand. Thankfully, the walk to your apartment wasn’t too long considering you lived only a couple blocks away from the cafe. After leading Spencer upstairs and unlocking the wooden door, he broke the threshold and headed inside right behind you, his hand moving to gently close the door behind you both. “You have a really nice place.” He’d commented.

It smelled like vanilla, the atmosphere being welcoming and so inviting that he had no problem towing off his shoes at the doorway before making himself comfortable as you were going for the case that held all the classic films and shows you had taken a liking to. “Here we go. Should we start with season one?” You asked, although you both didn’t share any confirmation as you were popping the disk in. After getting the remote, you were hurrying to leap onto the couch beside Spencer, the both of you laughing as you were crossing your legs to get comfortable.

The binge-watching had gone pretty standard, your body leaning comfortably against Spencer’s while your cheek was against his shoulder, his arm wrapped loosely around your shoulders. Despite his dislike for most human contact, he had to admit that he liked sitting like this with you. It helped that your body was warm against his. The contact was oddly intimate — At least to Spencer.

It was well established in the past that this guy doesn’t know how to go slow. So as you were so engrossed in the first season of your show, he was too busy thinking of the future opportunities of you both sitting on the couch like this and enjoying each other’s presence. “Can I ask you a question?” His voice finally spoke up as he glanced at you, your head lifting from his shoulder. “Yeah. Go ahead!” You offered a smile. “How long have you been doing undercover work at the uh.. You know.” He asked, eyes gleaming with curiosity.

“Well. I was just assigned to do it. I took pole dancing classes in college with a few friends. It’s actually a really good workout and I enjoy doing it. I just wish it wasn’t in front of a crowd.”

You answered honestly. It wasn’t something that you ever pictured yourself doing, however you were happy to catch sick fuckers that occupied the place. “Wait. They have classes?” The male asked, the hobby piquing his intrigue in the subject. “Yes! Why, want me to give you a lesson?” You joked while offering a smile. “I can teach you how to do a lap dance. I’ve already given you one so I don’t think it’ll be awkward. Right?”

Hell no it would not.

“I don’t- I don’t think so!” His voice squeaked as you were moving to stand with a smile. “Perfect! Don’t worry, you can touch me this time. No need to be freaked out.” You teased, hand retrieving the tv remote to get the screen turned off. You had moved to playfully toss your hair around, acting as if you had to gussy yourself up for the part. “Let me put on a costume. I feel like I need to do this perfectly.”

Which you disappeared for ten minutes, finding a silk purple negligee with lace stockings. You may have been overembellishing just a tad, however you wouldn’t mind Spencer putting his hands on you in any way he chose. Whenever you were coming back to the living room, your hands were on your hips as you sauntered to the couch. When the male’s eyes fell on you, he felt the wind get knocked out of him. This wasn’t at all what he was expecting. “What do you think?” You asked, doing a turn while grinning. “I was gonna put on some heels but I felt like that would be overkill.”

“I think you look stunning.”

“Flattery will get you absolutely everywhere, Dr. Reid.” You smirked, hand retrieving your phone as you were searching for a suitable song for the occasion.

As you’d landed on an old school rock song, it wasn’t long until you were dragging your hands up your body, watching as the agent in front of you was giving you his full divided attention. As you walked around the couch, your hands were sliding down his chest from behind him. The mere touch had his cock springing to life in his pants, especially when you ran them up his chest and rested a hand under his chin before making his head tilt up to look at you.

After lingering contact and leaning down to press a kiss to his left cheek, you were walking back in front of him again while bending. Your hands were against his knees while you lowered yourself, the angle making your cleavage nearly spill from the silky top of the ensemble and catching his attention. As your touch dragged up his thighs, you couldn’t help but grin at the way his body reacted to the touch. It was like he was so desperate to be touched and he hadn’t had any sort of intimacy like this in a while. Your hands squeezed his inner thighs before you were straddling his lap.

With your hands against his shoulders, you were humming along with the music as your hips rolled down into Spencer’s, the friction against his clothed cock being heavenly. His large hands were quickly moving to your hips, his mouth agape as he watched the intoxicating movements of your hips.

He could remember being jealous of Emily when they talked to you, the way you put on a show for her and gave Spencer hardly anything. This was a hell of a way to make it up to him though. While your hips gyrated against his lap, he was letting his head tilt back against the sofa while letting out a gentle whine. Your movements were overwhelming, hips rocking to stimulate riding his cock so good that it could nearly be considered the real thing.

By the end of the song though, Spencer could feel arousal building up in the pit of his stomach. His heart was beating fast, face red as a thin layer of sweat was collecting on his forehead from how hot he felt in these fucking clothes. What happened next was out of his control, the friction of your hips rubbing him just right as his hands squeezed your hips, a whine of your name slipping out before he could feel his cock twitch in his underwear. The arousal snuck up on him, unable to hold back as he soiled his underwear with cum. You knew all too well what had happened, your hips slowing down as you looked at him with wide eyes.

“Did you just..” You began, blushing as the male was quickly looking away in embarrassment. “I’m sorry! I can’t- I didn’t mean-“ Your hand was what cut him off as it rested gently over his mouth. “You don’t have to apologize.” You said softly while laughing some. “I’m flattered! But I think that we should probably get you cleaned up, don’t you think?”

Spencer didn’t catch on at first, not until your hands were on the button or his slacks. “Y-yeah.” He spoke shyly, lifting his lips in order to help you tug the bottoms down his legs.

“Good boy.”

[ninii-winchester]

Behind Closed Doors (Part 4)

Pairing : Boss!Dean Winchester X Assistant!Reader

Word count : 1.2k

Warnings: a lot of angst, reader says demeaning things about herself, language, not proofread.

I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION TO COPY MY WORK, TRANSLATE IT OR POST IT TO ANY OTHER PLATFORM. REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED.

“It’s alright I’m his fiancée.” Y/n really wanted to scoff at the woman’s claim but then her gaze fell to the woman’s left hand. Her ring finger was adorned with a ring, a single sapphire gleamed at the center, encased by tiny diamonds. That was the kind of ring she’d seen in Mrs. Winchester’s finger. That was same kind of ring that she’s seen in Sam’s fiancée, Jess’ finger on multiple occasions. It was the Winchester family’s traditional heirloom, passed down through generations, a symbol of their legacy. She then looked at her own and realised that any one would believe this woman over her, if she ever claimed to be Dean’s fiancée. Y/n felt a lump forming in her throat but she took a deep breath and cleared her throat before speaking,

“I understand, however I can’t let you go in without permission, it’ll risk my job.” She forced a smile. “I’ll let him know you’re here.” She added gesturing to the door and to her relief the woman nodded in agreement.

Y/n knocked on the door while the woman sat on the waiting couch, Dean’s voice was heard from behind the door as he gave permission to enter. She went inside the room and Dean looked delighted to see her, but his smile faltered when he noticed her expression.

“Mr Winchester, there’s someone waiting for you outside but she doesn’t have an appointment. Shall I send her in?” She said monotonously and he furrowed his brow.

“Who is it?” Dean asked curiously.

“Your fiancée.” She said calmly and his eyes widened in surprise. He opened and closed his mouth multiple times unable to form a coherent reply. He understood the look on her face when she first entered the room. When he didn’t reply for a few minutes she added, “I’ll send her in.” With that, she left.

Dean was quick on his feet and followed her out the room and his gaze landed on the woman sitting on the couch. The woman stood up and swiftly made her way towards him.

“Dean!!” She exclaimed happily throwing her arms around his neck.

“Rachel? What are you doing here?” He asked and Y/n watched the scene unfold in front of her eyes. So he did know her. She wanted to look away from them but she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the couple and she desperately wished she did when she saw Rachel peck his lips. She grimaced before turning back to the computer screen holding back the tears that were threatening to spill.

"I thought we could get lunch together," she said, her voice soft with a hint of hope.

“I’m busy!” Dean replied tersely. He didn’t want to have lunch with her, he wanted her to leave as soon as possible so he could explain to Y/n. So he could gather her in his arms and tell her she’s the only one and this a misunderstanding.

“Some other time?” Rachel asked and Dean nodded not wanting to create a scene. He was expecting her to throw a fit and demand his attention but he was surprised that she agreed so easily. Rachel turned to leave but then she stopped at Y/n’s desk, “Oh, you’re engaged too?” She said to Y/n excitedly pointing to her ring her. “Congratulations.” She smiled.

“Oh this?” Y/n replied showing her hand to her, “I’m not engaged.” She said softly and Rachel’s face turned to one of confusion. “I deal with businessmen on a daily basis and rich men think they can make me their mistress because I’m just a secretary. So this keeps them away.” She explained, glancing at Dean who was seething beside Rachel. Hah take that Winchester.

“That’s so inappropriate and just unacceptable. Dean, You shouldn’t do business with such people.” Rachel told Dean and he nodded, clenching and unclenching his fists at his sides. “I’ll get going but—” She looked at name plate on her desk, “Y/n, don’t hesitate to tell Dean if anyone does it again.”

“I won’t. Thank you.” She smiled at the redhead. Y/n wished this woman was a cunning bitch, it would’ve been easy to hate her. But at this moment this moment the only person she hates is someone she swore to Love for the rest of her life. Rachel reciprocated the gesture and kissed Dean on the cheek before taking her leave.

“Inside. Now.” Dean growled at Y/n and turned on his heels to go back to his office. Y/n rolled her eyes before following him inside. She watched him pace back and forth, his jaw clenched. “What the fuck was that?” He asked in a dangerously low tone.

“She’s beautiful. Perfectly matches with you.” Y/n commented.

“What the hell is wrong with you? Why are you behaving like this?” Dean snapped.

“I’ve never been a mistress before. I don’t know how they act.” She replied crossing her arms and Dean was sure he’d have steam coming out of his ears. He was fuming. He grabbed her arm and pulled her to him.

“Call yourself that one more time and I’m not sure what I’ll do.” He challenged making her scoff.

“Drop the act Dean. I can’t believe you went this far to keep the ruse.” She said gesturing to the ring on her finger. She went to remove it from her finger but he pulled her hand away.

“Don’t you dare.” Dean growled. “She’s not my fiancée, you are.” He yelled not caring if anyone heard.

“Really? And who knows that except you and me?” She asked rhetorically and Dean didn’t have an answer because she was right. “One look at the ring on her finger and anyone could tell she’s a Winchester woman.” She exclaimed.

“That’s.. it’s complicated.” Dean looked away breathing heavily. He didn’t want her to find out this way. He had hoped to handle the mess before she found out, but here he was now, in an even deeper disaster. She glared at him and moved past him to leave but he stopped her. “Baby please don’t do this.” He said softly.

“You have a meeting in five, Mr. Winchester.” Was all she said before she left.

Y/n beelined towards the women’s room and broke down finally. She leaned against the sink, her reflection distorted by the tears streaming down her cheeks. Her usually immaculate appearance was in disarray; her blouse was wrinkled, and her carefully styled hair was now a tangled mess. Her eyes, red and swollen, stared vacantly at the mirror as if trying to make sense of the shattered image before her.

Her breath hitched as she tried to steady herself. She clenched and unclenched her fists, the sharp edge of her engagement ring digging into her palm, a small distraction from the overwhelming hurt, but a stinging reminder at the same time. She quickly removed it from her hand and pocketed the ring. She really wanted to flush it down the toilet but it was expensive and she wanted to return it to Dean. She’d decided that she’d only talk to him if he comes clean about the situation or it’s the end of whatever they had.

Tags:

@spnfamily-j2 @galway-girlatwork @deangirl96 @queensilber

@s0urw00lf @monkey-d-hoshizora98 @deans-baby-momma @fullbelieverheart

@riah1606 @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @hobby27

@starkleila @suckitands33 @m3ntally-unstable @kanekilovelove-blog @candy-coated-misery0731

@blackcherrywhiskey @ladysparkles78 @goest-and-fuckest-thyself-blog @graywrites5567

@thelittlelightinthedarkess @enamoredwithbella @winchesterwild78 @myuhh8

@10ava01

[urdepressedslut]

Love Me to Death

✧ Pairing — Avengers!Bucky Barnes x Siren!Fem!Reader

✧ Summary — The Avengers compound receives a new recruit. She’s a siren who can make anyone fall deathly in love with her with one word. Bucky immediately takes interest in her as he discovers she’s mute, for good reason of course.

✧ Warnings — light angst, hints to past trauma, mentions of bucky’s trauma, hints to PTSD, hints of anxiety

series masterlist ✧ inbox open

You would never get over the view of the Atlantic Ocean. The way you found yourself getting lost as your eyes focused further and further into the distance. The way the earth curved, the way it appeared the ocean just dropped off. Nobody could ever know what went on out there, what happened when there were no wandering eyes. The secrets that the water held, the dark beauty that painted the waters.

Of course, this wasn’t a goodbye forever— just for a while. You couldn't help the pain that formed in your chest, the way your eyes watered at the last view glimpses of your home.

"You about ready to go (Y/n)?" Fury asked from the sand below.

You turned your head towards him, not missing the quick flash of guilt that passed through his expression. You turned back towards the water, taking one last deep breath in— the crisp air filling your lungs.

"If everything works out the way it should— you'll be back here soon." He reminded you, and you knew that was an estimation.

It was the best outcome that you'd return— but the chances were slim. Considering everything, this might as well be the last time you'll ever set foot on this rock, looking at this view that you'd grown to love so much.

You stepped down from the rock, standing next to Fury with a solemn look. You shook your head and avoided his eyes, you couldn't seem to come up with a good answer— so you shoved your way of communicating in your pockets. Plus, you didn't feel like signing a bullshit response— you were upset and you had the right to be.

"Remember I'm not the bad guy here, and neither are you. This is just how things need to be for a while." He reminded you, trying his best to make this feel less forced.

You gave in and signed the only thing you could come up with for now.

I know. You signed before you shoved your hand back in your pocket.

He gave a tiny smile, one that didn't seem genuine but you didn't seem to care too much.

“I don’t know why I have to be here.” Bucky grumbled, running a hand through his hair in stress.

Natasha rolled her eyes, giving Sam a smack on the head to wake him up. He was falling asleep on the couch when it wasn’t the time.

“Rude! I was sleeping.” Sam complained.

“Don’t care— and Buck you need to be here. We are receiving a new recruit.” She explained.

Bucky let out a sigh, shrugging his shoulders— wondering why Nat. thought he cared.

“We always receive new recruits. What’s so different about this one?” He wondered, earning a stare from the redhead before she replied.

Her features grew serious, all kicking and joking stripped from her face.

“This one is enhanced… and deadly.”

His eyes widened and all at once he understood his place now. He was here when things went wrong— the expendable one. Although it made his jaw clench, slight anger running through his veins— he nodded in understanding otherwise.

Natasha seemed to read him without him having to utter another word, she immediately backtracked.

“God, it’s like I can hear you thinking— you’re here because you’re part of the team. Everyone, including you is meeting her.” She corrected, watching his features soften slightly.

“How do you do that?” He asked, squinting his eyes in defense.

She was always able to read his mind, hell— everyone’s!

She laughed, shrugging her shoulder— avoiding to answer his question to mess with him.

“She’s a woman, of course she can read your thoughts. They all can.” Sam added from the couch, trying to drift back to sleep.

Natasha threw a pillow at Sam’s face, taking him by surprise.

“Oh shut it Wilson.” She mumbled, with a roll of her eyes.

“Ow! Why’re you so violent today?” He asked, sitting up and walking towards the bookshelf in the living room.

Natasha smiled to herself, taking his words more as a compliment than an insult.

“Everyone else will be here soon, but seriously— I know you know what it’s like to feel like an outsider when you first showed up here. I want you to help her out, okay?” The redhead asked, earning a scowl from him.

“Why me? Everyone at some point has had to feel like that too— c’mon Nat! I was just starting to settle down here, almost have a little routine for myself. How do you know she won’t be afraid of me— I’m sure she’ll know who I am.” He rambled on, complaint after complaint.

The redhead rubbed a hand down her face.

“I’m not asking you to marry her— just help her out, while she’s settles in.” She told him.

He sighed, knowing he wouldn’t be able to get out of this. He nodded, but kept a scowl on his face. This was not how he expected the day to go.

Soon enough, Fury was walking a surprisingly pretty woman into the room where all the Avengers either stood or sat waiting.

It wasn’t supposed to be a dig, Bucky only assumed she’d be less… pretty— with the way Natasha had described her. Deadly. He was expecting a more disturbed, haunting character— not this beautiful face.

“I’m sure all of you have heard whispers here and there— so this isn’t entirely new to any of you. Well… maybe some of you.” Fury mumbled, looking in Sam’s direction. “You are receiving a new member. She will be an amazing addition to the team— powerful and will help keep you all alive.”

Everyone said hello, waving and sending warm smiles her way— Bucky could only imagine the nerves of this woman with all the staring.

She seemed to be holding up quite well, in fact— she seemed glum. Her face was sagging with defeat every so slightly— enough for Bucky to notice of course. He immediately felt drawn to her distress, wanting to know the cause of it.

“Now, as all of you noticed. She doesn’t speak, and will not speak unless she is to do so. Meaning while in a mission, or any other situation where one of you are in danger.” Fury explained.

Bucky couldn’t help the frown that formed in his face. It felt wrong to listen to Fury talk about her like she was an object and nothing more— just a weapon at their hands. He felt uncomfortable, and almost like a flash in his quick blinks— he suddenly remembered the same feeling back at HYDRA. All of a sudden— it was personal.

“Can I ask why she can’t speak?” Natasha wondered, voicing what most of us were thinking.”

It felt weird to talk about her like she wasn’t standing right in front of us— but she didn’t seem bothered by it. Guess you wouldn’t be bothered either, after years of someone speaking for you.

There was that uncomfortable feeling again.

“Yes, that was the next thing I wanted to discuss.” Fury started, letting the woman take a seat beside him. “(Y/n) is a Siren. One peep from her and you all would fall under a spell. A love spell, you could say.”

Everyone went silent, taking in the new information. Nobody knew how to react— as nobody had experience with a Siren before. In fact— mostly everyone assumed Siren’s were a myth.

“So… what? (Y/n) talks and we all go in a trance? How do you get out of it?” Scott asked from the back row.

Fury shook his head, sneaking a glance at (Y/n) before speaking.

“You don’t. You stay trapped in the trance until death.” Fury finished.

Everyone’s mouth went into O’s, silence taking over the room yet again. Half of the group were intimidated— while the other half which contained the stronger Avengers, such as Thor and Wanda— they were impressed.

“A love spell that kills you? Wow.” Natasha muttered to herself, having never heard of something like this before.

(Y/n) surprised everyone when she started signing something in her seat, a shameful expression on her face as she did so.

“What did she just say?” Sam asked, looking at both Bucky and Nat.

Bucky and Natasha shared a look with each other, looking back a you before revealing to the rest of the group.

“She said, you’ll love me to death.” Natasha told them.

Everyone grew rigid at that sentence. The sinister way the endearing saying went from sweet to dark. Even Wanda and Thor gulped, swallowing in fear. (Y/n) was new too, nobody knew if they could trust her yet. Even with the approval from Fury— everyone felt a little on edge.

Meanwhile, Bucky gazed at her with a new fascination. Something in him pushed him towards her— something inside him wanted to know everything about her.

He wondered why.

A/N: this seems short and i’m sorry if it feels rushed, but i just wanted to get this out there. has been sitting in my drafts for awhile. hasn’t been proof read 👀

TAGLIST: @billy-reads @potatothots @buckyb-stan @kmc1989 @silverfire13 @ghostofwinter @hanihoney88 @stilesofhannah @skittle479 @marvelogic @meetmeatyourworst @engie115 @wilsons-striped-ties @x209x @kandis-mom @l0kilaufeys0n7

[devixxish]

Pairing: Choso Kamo x AFAB! Reader

Word Count: 2357 | 25 paragraphs

18+ MDNI. NOT proof read, smut, inked & pierced Choso, pining, tiny bit of tattooing, Choso kinda flirts? ig, groping, two consent checks, slight begging, cunnilingus, fingering, dom! Choso, pussydrunk! Choso. again probably more? idk

A/N: it's like 5AM and I'm tired asf 😭 I deleted the whole thing and started rewriting it like 12 hours ago. tbh I just kept writing and writing,i had once again too many ideas and got overwhelmed:') Also, is it obvious I suck at writing dialogue? ANYWAY, the ending is hella rushed and ugly tbh, but I still hope you enjoy! Divider by @benkeibear ♡

TATTOO ARTIST! CHOSO ╾ A guy looking both intimidating and sweet simultaneously as you watch him from afar while waiting for your scheduled appointment. Skin adorned with black ink, running from his fingers up his arms and getting lost beneath the mystery that lay under his shirt. A hint of a few splotches made their way up his neck, your eyes following them with intent. Your eyes reached that pretty face of his and much to your embarrassment, you had been caught staring, earning a small wink and a hint of a smirk from him.

TATTOO ARTIST! CHOSO ╾ While you had been many times to that particular tattoo parlor and caught multiple glimpses of him, either working, chatting or simply existing, you never got the chance to actually speak to him. You never even got booked with him. You merely settled for admiring from afar; the contrast of his pale skin with his intricate tattoos, his smudged eyeliner that made his gaze even more intense (or maybe it was just your imagination), the dark circles under his eyes that somehow added to his look, and the most adorable pigtails which were a stark contrast to his whole image. You had accepted your fate that you would never get the chance to come in contact with him.

TATTOO ARTIST! CHOSO ╾ Even the thought of him was enough to make you blush. You had convinced yourself that it was starting to become an unhealthy obsession- you would never find the balls to even get close to the guy! But it happened. What you had been not so secretly hoping for- wishing for. You had just saved up enough to get a piece done, and when you booked your appointment and heard the name of your artist- you had to physically contain yourself from squealing.

TATTOO ARTIST! CHOSO ╾ He was the first thing you saw as soon as you entered through the door on the day of your appointment. You were sure you had never felt more nervous in your life; the butterflies in your stomach were going crazy and you could feel the sweat in your palms. It was embarrassing, honestly, but you had to get through it. With a deep breath, you found the courage you did not possess and walked over to him.

TATTOO ARTIST! CHOSO ╾ The way he lit up upon seeing you did nothing to calm your nerves. On the contrary- were you imagining things? He interacted with you in the sweetest way, and you had to constantly remind yourself that you were his client, his last for the day on top of that, so it was common sense for him to be polite. Soon enough, you both had moved to the back with you only then realizing that everyone else had already left for the night. Sigh.

TATTOO ARTIST! CHOSO ╾ He complimented you when you described the tattoo you wanted to get - a side piece coming down to your stomach - and you managed to give him a smile and a small 'thank you' in response with difficulty. He had started arranging the caps and inks, and whatever else he needed, when he suddenly voiced; "I'm going to need you to take this off.", pointing to your top.

TATTOO ARTIST! CHOSO ╾ who laughed a melody when you yelped, "Excuse me?!", and explained that it was for the best if you didn't want ink to get on your top. You easily complied, slipping the garment off your body and laying back on your seat, calmly waiting for him. Soon, he approached to get you and the stencil ready. "Ready, pretty?"

TATTOO ARTIST! CHOSO ╾ He didn't seem to notice the blush that creeped over your cheeks, and you did your best to hide it as well. He started tracing the lines with ink, and you were grateful for the slight distraction the pain from the machine provided. It didn't last. He kept touching you - to stretch your skin and hold you still, of course - and you were finding it extremely hard to not stare at his face, or the piercings adorning it, or his hands, or the way he was touching you. "How are you feeling?"

TATTOO ARTIST! CHOSO ╾ looked up at you, expecting a reply. You had to look at him, and so you did, giving him only a nod. A hint of a smirk appeared on his face, returning your nod. "Good. You're doing so good.", and with that he continued his job, slowly reaching your lower stomach as time passed. It hurt, of course it hurt, but something made you want to put on your brave face and act nonchalant about both the pain and the proximity of you both- his breath was fanning over you stomach, adding a tingly feeling to the pain you felt. And him, he was nonchalant about how he made you feel.

TATTOO ARTIST! CHOSO ╾ He wasn't stupid, nor a stranger to clients who had small, innocent crushes on him. It happened to everyone, and you didn't make it particularly hard to notice. He could see the way you looked at him, could feel the deeper breaths you sucked in each time his grip on you tightened, or the way you squirmed and closed your thighs every time he worked on your tummy. And Choso enjoyed it. Perhaps a little too much for his own good.

TATTOO ARTIST! CHOSO ╾ His pause made you look back at him, a puzzled expression on your face. He gave you a smile and informed you you would be stopping for the night- you would need a second session. Your face visibly dropped; not because you wanted more of the pain from the machine, but because you wanted more of Choso. More of his touch, his small talk, his mere presence. You guessed he saw the look on your face, because just for a fleeting moment, something flickered in his eyes. What it was, you couldn't exactly tell, but it was enough to make your mind wander.

TATTOO ARTIST! CHOSO ╾ He had turned to throw away his gloves and you took it as your cue to put your shirt back on and take your leave. While slightly struggling with your top, you picked up the sound of his chair rolling, and when you were able to see again, Choso was right in front of you, right in between your parted legs. Before you could even utter a word, he had already stood up, towering over you as he leaned closer while supporting himself on the back of your chair. "Leaving already?"

TATTOO ARTIST! CHOSO ╾ simply chuckled when your breath hitched in your throat, a low and airy sound that tickled your ears. "You're being so obvious, it's almost painful to watch", he was smirking while eyeing you, watching you stumble over your words and ultimately huff out in defeat. You were the cutest thing he had laid eyes upon. And he wanted to devour you. And he was pretty sure you wanted that, too.

TATTOO ARTIST! CHOSO ╾ leaned even closer. You could feel his breath mingling with your own as he took a moment to analyze your face; your widened eyes, your parted lips, your pretty face as a whole. "Can I?", it was a whisper so low you barely heard it, but you were so thankful you did. Your nod was all it took for him to finally crash his lips on yours, his hand snaking to the back of your neck to hold you in place as he used his tongue to part your lips and gain access inside your mouth. All you did was mewl and let him kiss you the way he wanted - rough, but sweet at the same time - your hands gripping the front of his shirt as if his kiss was your life support.

TATTOO ARTIST! CHOSO ╾ couldn't hold himself back. His lips never once left your skin after the initial kiss. He only took a second to allow you to catch your breath, before attaching his lips to your neck, his hands taking a hold of your thighs and trailing up and under your shirt. The sounds he was pulling from you were mesmerizing- and he needed to hear more. You could feel his hands roaming all over your body, groping your tits, gripping your side - the one without the fresh tattoo - gripping your thighs. It was driving you insane, and you found yourself feeling grateful for the fact that everyone else had left by then.

TATTOO ARTIST! CHOSO ╾ dropped to his knees, placing your thighs over his shoulders and pulling you slightly forward. The skirt you had decided to wear that day flipped over your stomach, exposing your black undies and just how wet you were all for him. His lips found your right inner thigh, kissing and nipping your skin while holding your gaze. You were looking at him in wonder, chewing on your bottom lip in anticipation of his next move.

TATTOO ARTIST! CHOSO ╾ smoothed his hands over your thighs, until his right one settled over your crotch. His thumb swiped over the wet patch on your undies and you heard him swear under his breath. "So wet and I've only kissed you.." He shook his head in feign disappointment as he used his finger to pull your underwear to the side. You couldn't even remember how you found yourself in that position; your mind was consumed by Choso and what you hoped he was about to do soon.

TATTOO ARTIST! CHOSO ╾ looked at you from below, his gaze intense and hungry- "Can I?", he asked for the second time that night, and you gave him a nod once again. But this time it wasn't enough. "I'm going to need you to speak up, darling". Through whines and whimpers, you managed to give him the verbal consent he needed to hear from you; "Yes! Please, just- Do something.."

TATTOO ARTIST! CHOSO ╾ cooed at the desperation lacing your voice. "Atta girl". And with that, his face disappeared in between your thighs. He buried his face into your cunt, his tongue lapping up your juices and flicking over your clit. A groan sounded from him, along with a muffled mumble of how good you taste, right before you felt his lips wrapping around your clit and sucking. Your hands practically flew to hold onto his head, your fingers threading through his tied up locks- you couldn't decide whether you wanted to pull him closer or pull him off. Everything you were feeling was overwhelming; your moans sounded deafening in your ears and the intensity of his pierced tongue on your clit was enough for you to slowly lose your sanity.

TATTOO ARTIST! CHOSO ╾ could live forever in between your thighs and with his head buried into your cunny. Your taste was intoxicating and addicting. It only made him wonder how much sweeter you would taste after cumming, and how much sweeter your moans would sound. How pretty you would look. He was a determined man. As much as he didn't want to, he had to catch his breath and so he pulled back. "Such a sweet, pretty pussy.." He murmured, more to himself. You could feel one of his fingers teasing your hole and before you knew it, he was slipping his digit inside you. "Tight too.. Fuck."

TATTOO ARTIST! CHOSO ╾ got up, looming over your slumping form on the chair with his finger knuckle deep inside you. You looked up at him with doe eyes, your breath baited. His thumb was lazily circling your clit as he slowly pushed in a second finger causing you to cry out and hold onto his hand that was in between your legs. "You're doing so good f'me, baby.. That's it..". His encouragement only added to your pleasure, and while it felt embarrassing, you were already close.

TATTOO ARTIST! CHOSO ╾ could feel it. Your tight heat enveloping his fingers had his mind wandering to how good you'd feel around his cock. But that had to wait. His fingers began moving skillfully inside you, curling upwards to hit directly your sweet spot and his lips claimed yours once again, swallowing your moans and whimpers. His fingers were moving fast and hard, driving you even closer to your release. You tried to warn him, tell him that you were close, but he was kissing you with such fervor you found it hard to resist him.

TATTOO ARTIST! CHOSO ╾ could feel you tightening, but he never expected to feel your thighs clenching over his hand and your release gushing around his fingers so soon; it was nothing he would complain about, though. He slowed down but didn't stop; instead he helped you ride out your orgasm, his forehead pressed against yours as he looked into your eyes. When you began squirming due to the overstimulation, that's when he knew he had to move away and let you breathe normally again - not that you would be able to.

TATTOO ARTIST! CHOSO ╾ crouched down, taking his fingers out of you and showing them to you. "You made such a mess", and you looked half-shocked as he cleaned his digits off with his tongue. He stood up on his full height with a laugh and walked away, leaving you bewildered on the chair. Was that it? "Um..", you began and looked down at him when he crouched once more in between your legs and cleaned your mess with a cloth. "Hm?" He cocked one eyebrow, but his gaze remained focused on his task at hand. "Aren't.. I mean, won't we..?", you tried to subtly explain to him, only to earn a truly genuine laugh from him.

TATTOO ARTIST! CHOSO ╾ got up and helped you get dressed, "I wanna take you out first, what do you take me for?". That had you laughing this time, getting up from the seat on wobbly legs with his help. He escorted you all the way to the exit, a cheeky grin on his pretty face and a playful glint in his eyes. "I think I have a cancellation tomorrow. I'd be more than happy to finish up.. your tattoo".

Devixxish© All rights reserved! Do not, repost, reupload modify in any way or claim my work as your own!

[sargeant-bxrnes]

birthday ramé. [g.s]

—✮ summary: where your husband gojo, and your little daughter airi, are planning a nice birthday surprise for you, which of course, in true gojo’s fashion… must be a little chaotic. [requested!]

pairings: gojo x f!reader [married]

contents: pure fluff, girl-dad!gojo :) | wc: 930

my masterlist! | my requests are OPEN!

Gojo tiptoed around the kitchen with the grace of a rampaging elephant. His wild white hair seemed to have a mind of its own, adding to the general chaos that surrounded him. He was trying to do a nice gesture for you, and nothing will get in his way, not even his own lack of culinary skills.

Little Airi, a two-year-old bundle of joy and mini-Gojo, was perched on the kitchen counter, happily making an (artistic) mess with flour and sugar on the surface with her little hands. She giggled, resembling a pocket-sized version of her father, right down to the snow white hair, the mischievous glint in her eyes and the way she seemed to be fully charged with energy all the time.

Gojo, wearing his blindfold for 'professionalism' reasons, was attempting to crack eggs both in a rush and with dramatic flair, but ended up sending shells flying in every direction. Airi clapped her tiny hands, unaware of the kitchen mayhem she was contributing to.

Satoru smiled at his little baby, seeing a hint of your smile in little Airi’s face, she looked just like you, sometimes, but most if not all the time, little Airi was all him. Even now, when they're supposed to be preparing you a nice surprise but are downright creating chaos.

Suddenly, the unmistakable scent of burnt toast wafted through the air, and Gojo froze for a few seconds, realizing he might be losing control of the situation. He glanced at Airi, who was now happily smearing jam on a piece of pancake with her own little sticky hands, well, she was happy and away from the fire, all good.

"Uh-oh. Well, who doesn't love a bit of extra crunch?" He mumbles to himself as he removes the other pancake from the heat, aware that it's more of a... semi burnt pancake.

The kitchen door creaked open, and you, the birthday girl, walked in completely unsuspecting, rubbing your eyes from sleepiness, however an expression of amused confusion quickly took over your features.— you had woken up to the other side of your bed empty, which made you pout a bit, however that had soon changed by the muffled sounds of Airi’s little giggles and whatever ramble left Goru's mouth. — which prompted you here, to witness this cute moment.

"What kind of culinary circus is happening here?" You asked in amusement.

As Gojo valiantly attempted to rescue a pan from the clutches of overcooking, Airi presented you with a lopsided pancake. "’appy birfday, Mommy!"

You couldn't help but chuckle at the adorable mess unfolding before you, walking closer to the counter where little Airi was sitting down, as her little hands immediately made a 'grabby hands' gesture for you to pick her up.

Gojo, grinned like this chaotic deliver was planned all along, and turned to face you. "Happy birthday, love! Airi and I are just preparing a breakfast surprise, or as I like to call it, controlled chaos."

You raised an eyebrow with an amused expression, taking in the whimsical kitchen scene, an unnatural amount of dirty dishes all around, a mess of flour and sugar, and some cracked eggs by the side.

"Thank you, honey. And… Controlled chaos? Is that a new cooking technique?" You inquired as you picked up the baby and cradled her in your arms; she hid her head in the crook of your neck as her messy white hair tickled your skin.

"Absolutely! Cutting-edge stuff, really." Gojo muses, walking closer to you and your daughter, wrapping his long arm around both, leaning down to kiss her little forehead.

"Well, it's certainly a... unique surprise," you muse, tickling your little girl's side, making her giggle. "Thank you, my little chef. And you, Mr. Gojo, for this unforgettable start to my day."

“You are absolutely welcome, Mrs. Gojo.” Satoru grinned, leaning down to kiss you, his lips softly met yours in an affectionate gesture, the kiss was slow and filled with love, which admittedly he would've prolonged a bit more if little Airi hadn't patted his cheek with her jam smeared little fingers.

Gojo pulled back from the interrupted kiss, a playful whine escaping him as he shot Airi an exaggerated pout.

"Hey, little interrupter, Daddy was having a moment there." he chuckled, wiping a bit of jam from his cheek and smearing it playfully on her tiny nose.

Airi, seemingly unfazed, grinned innocently, her little head still comfortably resting on the crook of your neck. "Mommy mine!"

You chuckled, patting Gojo on the shoulder "Looks like you've got some competition for my affection, baby."

Gojo, not one to be easily deterred, leaned in close to the baby girl, a twinkle in his eye. "Airi, did you know I met your mom first? That means I can kiss her whenever I want."

Her eyes widened in curiosity, and before Gojo could continue with whatever questionable commentary he had in mind, you swiftly intervened. You shot your husband a look that warned him against taking the banter too far, and he paused, sighing dramatically.

"Alright, alright, I'll behave. For now," he conceded, and you gave him a mock stern look, shaking your head in amusement. "But just know, I have a whole repertoire of embarrassing stories waiting for Airi when she's older."

You rolled your eyes with a smile— Satoru wrapped his arms around you both as Airi giggles happy, and you realized that, despite the chaos, these were the moments that made your little family so uniquely charming, even surrounded by burnt toasts, lopsided pancakes and sticky fingers.

[prettypumpum]

Title: Crossed Dimensions I Logan Howlett x Reader

Summary: You were living an ordinary life until the day a portal throws you into the Marvel universe. Trapped between an unbearable Deadpool and a Wolverine as troubling as he is charming, you discover powers you didn't know you had and an unknown past with certain heroes. As your anxiety grows in the face of this new reality, will you be able to find your place and perhaps become the hero they need?

Warnings: strong language, mentions of violence,

Word count: 1032

I woke up with a start. When I gathered my thoughts, I realized I was still on the plane bringing us back.

“You okay, last one?” asked Elis, our pilot.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I replied, exhaling a bit, my hands still trembling from the adrenaline.

“My ex, she believed in rocks and that kind of nonsense,” he began. “To improve sleep, you need rose quartz, or lapis lazuli… no, wait, aventurine,” he continued, a bitter smile on his lips.

“You sure?” Logan asked me, his face betraying his unease. I could almost see his thoughts swirling, as if he was weighing each moment spent on this plane. I noticed his fingers gripping the edge of the metal bench we were sitting on, his knuckles turning white at every bump.

To be fair, the flying coffin we were crammed into was far from the comfort of the Blackbird, with its soft leather seats and sophisticated controls. Here, each vibration of the plane reminded me that we were miles above the ground, with prayer likely the only thing keeping us in the air.

After what happened last night, we hadn’t really talked. I decided to blame “the incident” on alcohol. After all, he’d never shown the slightest hint he could be interested. And if fate hadn’t forced us to meet, he probably wouldn’t have even noticed me.

“She decided to stop loving me overnight. I’m sure it’s because of that guy she met at work,” Elis added, taking off his cap and rubbing his head, visibly frustrated. “We were supposed to get married. My father was supposed to come; he’s really sick, lung cancer…” He continued, growing sadder. “We were super close, he and I… he’s the one who taught me to fly.”

“Great, someone put another coin in the machine,” muttered Wade, still on his phone. He’d been glued to it since yesterday, probably chatting with Vanessa.

“You know, sometimes when I’m flying, I think: ‘Go on, let go, let this bird crash, you’ve got nothing left to lose, old man,’” he concluded with a nervous laugh.

At his words, Logan and I exchanged a panicked look over the pilot’s words. Logan’s fear of flying was endearing, but it was becoming more realistic by the second.

“Are we almost there?” I asked Elis, a bit panicked.

“Yeah, we’ll be landing soon. Buckle up,” he replied. I could feel the plane descending slightly, which wasn’t very reassuring given the pilot’s mental state.

Logan was completely tense. I pushed my hand over his clenched fist to calm him. I could feel tiny metal points emerging from his knuckles, pricking the skin of my palm. As the plane began to land, a second large hand rested on mine, gently holding it. My hand seemed tiny, trapped between the mutant’s large, warm hands.

“Here we are, folks,” Elis shouted cheerfully. “Say, Lydia, I was saying we could grab a drink after…”

Logan was the first to get off the plane.

“She’s not interested,” Logan growled, cutting him off. I gave him a small, embarrassed smile.

“No worries,” Elis said, fiddling with his cap as we walked away from the plane. “Oh, your friend came to pick you up,” he pointed out, gesturing toward the SUV behind the fences of the small airport.

Laura was waiting for us, sitting on the hood, playing with her phone. It’s true Al couldn’t come get us, which was probably for the best.

“It’s their daughter,” Wade said, still glued to his screen but nodding toward Logan and me.

“Oh,” Elis gasped, shocked. “But how old were you when you had her exactly?”

It was one of many unsettling things about this story. Laura was eighteen, Logan had fought in the Civil War, and I’d just celebrated my twenty-sixth birthday.

“It’s complicated,” I replied, saying goodbye to Elis.

“Hi,” she greeted us with a smile. “Did you have a good flight?”

“We’re still alive,” Logan replied, climbing into the passenger seat.

I smiled at Laura before settling in the back while she took the wheel. Wade joined me after stowing his gear in the trunk, keeping with him the extra supply Enrique had given us.

“Yes, even if he’s weird and never shuts up, he’s cheap, so let’s all give him a wave,” Wade said, flashing a bright smile. I joined in, enthusiastically waving back at the pilot as he did the same, continuing until Laura had driven us far enough away.

“Look, the whole family’s together,” Wade grinned. “Papa Bear, Mama Bear, Baby Bear, and Goldilocks,” he said, pointing to each of us, ending on his scarred face.

“Enough with your crap,” Logan growled, clearly not amused by Wade’s jokes. The whole “family” thing bothered him as much as, if not more than, me. Unlike me, Laura had known his version of Logan, who was, after all, the best Logan. It was hard for him to live up to that legend.

“Stop bugging Logan,” I asked Wade softly.

“Yes, Mama,” he replied. “It made you all tough too, huh?” he asked through the window, as if someone could see him.

“Wade,” Logan growled louder.

I was grateful Laura was there because otherwise, Logan would’ve already driven his claws into Wade’s throat and started a fight.

“Alright, calm down, kitten. Laura, you can call me Uncle Wade,” I said, joking. I could see the mutant boiling with anger. “Laura, could you be a sweet little kitty and drop me off at Vanessa’s, please?”

“Of course, Uncle Wade,” Laura replied sarcastically.

“Don’t encourage him,” Logan told her.

“His humor, she gets it from our side of the family,” Wade whispered, nudging me with his elbow.

[fiendforbyler]

wait y’all i just realised something that is probably niche as fuck but anyway! if you know/have read the Keeper of the Lost Cities series in it’s entirety you will understand the relationship/love triangle between sophie, fitz and keefe. from the beginning fitz is set up at sophie’s love interest, even as young kids (i believe she is 12 in the first book? and he is maybe a year older? not 100% it’s been a while). she crushed on him for majority of the series and finally in book 7/8 they get together with a seemingly very romantic gesture from fitz, with many hints during the series that fitz liked her back. point is: we were all rooting for them. it is imprtant to note that it’s also always been hinted at but later in the series confirmed that keefe has major feelings for sophie as well. for me, this is representative of mike/el/will love triangle, with sophie being mike, keefe being will, and fitz being el. now, i don’t really like fitz but i LOVE el so yeah this isn’t a flawless comparison but ANYWAY back to my main point!! keefe (will) is so likeable with a tragic backstory, troubling plot line, has a lot of trauma AND a sorry crush on a girl (boy) who (supposedly) has eyes only for one person since the beginning- something that has been clearly set up and formed into a seemingly sweet relationship readers have been rooting for from the beginning. yeah this is sounding familiar? here’s the problem (or solution for sophkeefe/byler shippers like i): ITS NOT WHAT SOPHIE THOUGHT IT WOULD BE. fitz pressures her into trying to find her bio parents so they could be matched, he is aggressive and possessive over her (not in a good way) and she breaks up with him. during this, i’m pretty sure she begins to crush on keefe as well- keefe in permanent denial she could ever like him back of course- and feels terribly guilty about it, because she still has feeling for fitz. (yeah i told you, not the perfect comparison but you understand what i’m getting at right?) while things with fitz get worse, sophie starts genuinely discovering how she really feels about keefe, with lines like “if she was really really honest- and really really brave- she had to admit that the idea of being with keefe sounded… kind of amazing. Yes, it was scary. and yes there were risks. but wouldn’t it be worth trying?” wouldn’t it be worth trying? ladies and gents, we just discovered mikes inner monologue!!! scary, risky, but worth it? its what will is to him! mike has always been “too insecure to let (him)self see what’s right in front of (him)” (a line taken from the book!!!!!!) will is in front of him. he is being so distracted by his internalised homophobia that he has NOOO idea what he is missing!! “‘SERIOUSLY, STOP!’ she told herself again…/ adding those kind of feelings to a friendship pretty much ruined everything. ( talking about fitz)”

and it’s all oh so familiar…

BUT WAIT! THERES MORE! finally, FINALLY, during our long awaited kiss scene, she says this:

“some tiny part of her head had always wondered if kissing keefe could really be as great as everyone claimed. but kissing keefe was so. much. better.”

yeah. and then blah blah they get interrupted by who? of yes of course fitzy the ex boyfriend is here. and he says what when he finds out? OH YEAH. “you kissed him? you didn’t even kiss me!”

THAT SOUNDS A LOT LIKE “you never say it/i say it” AND “i didn’t say it/you didn’t have to” or pretty much the same way mike acts around will vs el.

you know what else? mikes inability to say i love you to el (hasn’t kissed fitz) but so clearly communicate it to will (kissing keefe)

if you haven’t read all this (and i don’t blame you!!) just read this next paragraph!

but back to my main MAIN point. sophitz was the ship EVERYONE (except maybe a select few) wanted right up until they got together!! it was perfect on paper, cute, with history and seemingly ‘connected’ character (as per the plot), and as soon as they got together, everything fell apart, as well as sophie closing herself off and beginning to lose fitz even before the downfall of their relationship due to her suppressed feelings about keefe. (cough cough MIKE) they need to break up for her to realise keefe was the better match all along. keefe, who never thought he as a chance. keefe, who loved her from the start. KEEFE, WHO LET HIS BEST FRIEND HAVE HER IF IT MEANT HAPPINESS TO THEM.

ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME? please tell me i’m not crazy!! thank you for reading this it took me a long time to write but it also felt great to write this out even if no one reads this. hail to byler and a reminder we are one day closer to seeing them on screen. have a great day/night!

[idlerin]

love sick — profiles: inarizaki dogs

masterlist — ppl who think love sucks + [name] — episode one

suna’s life is basically just volleyball and his phone and his studies and did i mention volleyball? he’s a part of the college volleyball team along with atsumu and kiyoomi. suna already had a bunch of people vying for him since high school but he was never really interested in anyone at all, which makes atsumu teasing him because of all the people throwing themselves at him now in college even more unbearable.

to the outside world (meaning: people who are not close to suna) knows him to be intimidating and sarcastic, but that doesn’t scare away any of his admirers nope (unfortunately for him, that is exactly a lot of people’s type).

suna is currently a second year in tokyo university and lives outside of campus with osamu, his best friend. suna thinks living with osamu was one of the best decisions he’s ever made because of how good of a cook osamu is, it’s like he gets a personal chef… but osamu would smack him if he called him that and would probably never cook for suna again. suna likes his food thank you very much.

atsumu and sakusa are roommates living in the dorms. how this happened… oh well! sakusa ran out of options and atsumu was right there sigh (they actually live together just fine, until atsumu tries to rope him in one of the thirst trap videos he liked making).

the gc was created when they were first years in inarizaki by atsumu. really, it was just atsumu, osamu, and suna until atsumu added sakusa in their second year where he proclaimed sakusa was one of his new best friends (the gc name was never changed, no one really cares enough to change it anyways).

suna and sakusa actually get along really well because the twins could be too much sometimes, literally double the trouble. osamu is quiet but he’s just as sneaky as atsumu and together they’re a devilish pair (poor mama miya). suna and sakusa actually enjoy getting matcha before training on the days where their schedules match, it resulted into some really interesting conversations! like how everything has tiny living organisms surviving on it…

there have been plenty of times where suna found love letters in his bag or few times his way has been blocked by someone who was really really obviously dropping hints that they wanted to go out with hum. first it was love letters, then it was homemade sweets, then other gifts… it’s not that he doesn’t appreciate it, but man he just wants to be left alone!

that’s when he finds out that they were getting the courage to do all of this because of someone called [name] who in their words was “practically cupid”, suna got curious and tried to find who that person was. he found out that she was some love guru in the university, that’s what the people say. he soon figures out that this [name] who was practically cupid was the same [name] that atsumu kept blabbering about. suna only saw her in passing and they never really became acquainted with each other, but he knew of her existence.

the only ever real interaction they had with each other was when a girl was publicly professing her love for him and he ignored her and he got frustrated when she kept throwing herself at him so suna pushed her away. the girl fell and the only person who had the guts to help the girl was [name], who was watching the whole thing play out.

okay so they were technically on bad terms.

and it was probably a bad idea to use [name] as an excuse for his admirers to leave him alone, but she does owe him for indirectly tormenting him for months. also if [name] was some sort of cupid that brought hearts together, she should know how to make people go away too, right?

love sick ! a suna rintarou social media au

synopsis. cupid! calling cupid! as the resident matchmaker slash hopeless romantic of tokyo university, you are the person people for look to get love advice or to set them up with the love of their lives. when suna rintarou comes to you asking for the opposite, to help fend people away from trying to get with him, to the extremes of even asking to fake date you, you couldn't refuse! mostly because you did owe him since he was on the receiving end of a bunch of your clients’ unsuccessful love efforts (hey, you do warn them your matchmaking only has a 62.3% success rate).

a/n — all of my body is aching! i blame my period! and i still have something due at 11:59 send help

taglist is OPEN ! + @yas-mjm @agirlwholovesalot @yenqa @fairywriter-oracle @noideawhothatis @renardiererin @cheezitwh0re @zephestia @nicerthanu @wolffmaiden @2baddies-1porsche @bluegrey02 @qualitygiantshoepsychic @lylovw @fo-love @cloudsvna @apinu @coyloves @rockleeisbaeeee @geombyu @girlkissersco @reveusecherie @megumiif @erenjvegerrr @thechaosoflonging @rintarousgirl @ris-krispie @kamikokii @complexivelovely @hearts4faey @yuzurins @eleanorheartschishiya @hearts4itoshi @justsomeonewhoyoudontknow @rijhi @sleepystrwbrryy @snail-squasher @seiamor @wave2love @le000xxgrd @iuspired @theidontknowmehn @linmabbe @rntrsuna @skomiomi @tenaciouswritersheep @i-am-l0ved @kenmacantakemeaway @tojirin @hissy-fit18 @applejuic33 @zennryu

to those i can not tag, kindly change your mentions settings thank you!

note: this is not the whole taglist, it’s been a year since i posted the masterlist to love sick and there may be people who don’t want to be in it anymore so i’ve only tagged those who confirmed they still want to be in the taglist through this post by liking or commenting as i don’t want to bother people! hehe

[muiitoloko]

Okay. Hear me out: Snape and the Hogwarts professor/wife. Actually I don't even care *which* Alan character you do, but picture this:

Y/N has had a busy time lately and has been flustered. Their birthday is coming up and they'd love nothing more than to get away from the hullabaloo and relax.

*He* in all his glorious self decides to pitch a tent in the woods with fairy lights and a campfire and everything, at the edge of the woods, and surprises Y/N by taking them on long car ride into the middle of nowhere and they camp out under the stars and maybe get down and busy and dirty, IYKYK (and *I* know you know) in the field beneath the stars.

Please and thank you and have fun :)

Title: Gunslinger’s Love

Summary: On a secluded night in the Australian bush, Elliott Marston surprises his wife with a passionate anniversary celebration. Their love story unfolds amidst the wild beauty of the outback.

Pairing: Elliott Marston × Fem! Reader

Warnings: Smut

Author's Notes: Oh, I love this idea! Pitching a tent in the woods, fairy lights, campfires, long car rides, and getting down and busy under the stars—sounds like a dream! 😏 I can already picture it all!

And to keep things interesting, I’ve decided to write it with Elliott! There’s just so many Snape fanfics out there, I thought I'd give some love to a character who doesn’t get enough of the spotlight. Elliott deserves to get in on this magic too, don’t you think? 😉

Also read on Ao3

Elliott urged the horses to move faster, the creak of the wagon’s wheels adding to the quiet tension of the night. The stars glittered above like tiny diamonds scattered across a velvet sky, but all you could focus on was your growing curiosity—and mild annoyance. You clung to Elliott’s waist, your arms wrapped around him as the cool night air nipped at your skin.

“Elliott,” you called out over the sound of the horses’ hooves. “Where on earth are you taking me at such a late hour?”

Elliott adjusted the brim of his hat, his signature Zappa mustache twitching with amusement as he glanced over his shoulder at you. “I told you, darling,” he said in that deep, smooth baritone you loved so much, “it’s a surprise.”

You huffed, not entirely convinced. “A surprise in the middle of nowhere, in the dead of night? And we’re camping? What if there’s a wolf or—heaven forbid—a snake? I don’t fancy being turned into a midnight snack for some wild animal, Elliott.”

Elliott rolled his eyes with an exasperated smile, patting the rifle strapped to his side. “Woman, I’m the best gunslinger in all of Australia. Do you really think I’d let anything happen to you while I’m around?”

You narrowed your eyes at him, though there was a hint of a smile playing on your lips. “You might be the best gunslinger, but you’re not invincible. And this still doesn’t explain why we’re camping! There are perfectly good beds at home, you know.”

Elliott chuckled, his voice rumbling deep in his chest. “You’ll see soon enough, my love. Just sit back and trust me, hmm?”

You gave a playful pout, leaning closer to his ear. “I’m not convinced, but I’ll go along with your little adventure. If I hear so much as a howl, though, you’ll be the one getting a taste of this wagon’s hard bench all night.”

Elliott threw his head back and laughed, the sound echoing across the empty plains. “That’s a fair threat,” he teased, “but I think you’ll change your tune once we get there.”

After what felt like an eternity of bumping along the uneven trail, the wagon finally slowed, and Elliott pulled the horses to a stop. You squinted into the darkness, trying to make out your surroundings, but all you saw were the tall, shadowy outlines of trees.

“Where are we?” you asked, your voice softer now, tinged with curiosity.

Elliott jumped down from the wagon and turned to offer you his hand. “Come on,” he said, his eyes gleaming with excitement. “You’ll love it, I promise.”

You hesitated for a moment, still not entirely sure about this whole camping idea, but you trusted Elliott. Taking his hand, you let him help you down, and together, you walked into the trees.

As you stepped deeper into the forest, the darkness began to give way to a soft, warm glow. Your eyes widened in surprise as you spotted several oil lamps hung from tree branches, their flickering light casting a romantic golden hue over the clearing. A soft blanket had been spread out on the grass, surrounded by cushions, and there were wildflowers tucked into every available crevice.

“Elliott…” you breathed, utterly taken aback by the sight before you.

Elliott stood behind you, his arms wrapping around your waist as he rested his chin on your shoulder. “Happy anniversary, my darling,” he murmured, his voice full of warmth. “I thought we’d celebrate under the stars this year.”

You turned in his arms, gazing up at him with a mixture of awe and affection. “You did all this for me?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Elliott’s hazel eyes sparkled in the soft light. “Of course,” he said, his voice low and sincere. “I know it’s not the most conventional way to celebrate, but I wanted something special. Something that reminds us of how simple and beautiful things can be when it’s just the two of us.”

Your heart swelled with emotion, and you couldn’t help but smile up at him. “You hopeless romantic,” you teased, though your voice was full of affection. “I didn’t think you had it in you.”

Elliott raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. “Just because I’m a ruthless gunslinger doesn’t mean I can’t be romantic,” he said, his voice dripping with charm.

You laughed softly, leaning into him. “I suppose I shouldn’t complain, then. It’s…perfect, Elliott. Really.”

He kissed the top of your head before stepping back, guiding you toward the blanket. “I knew you’d come around,” he said, his voice teasing but filled with tenderness.

You then released Elliott from your embrace and approached the romantic scene he had so thoughtfully set up for you. As your eyes scanned the soft blanket, the cushions, and the wildflowers tucked into the crevices of the trees, you couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of affection for your husband. He wasn’t one for grand displays of emotion, but this…this was different. It felt like a piece of his heart laid bare just for you.

Turning your gaze to Elliott, you saw him pulling the tent out of the wagon, along with the basket of food you had prepared earlier. He made quite the picture—his baritone voice humming quietly as he worked, his Zappa mustache twitching with concentration, his hooked nose casting a shadow over his handsome face in the flickering lamplight. You smiled to yourself as you moved to help him set up the tent.

As soon as Elliott saw you approaching, he shook his head in mock protest. “Now hold on there, darlin’,” he drawled, his Australian accent thicker than usual. “I told you to relax. This is meant to be your night. No need for you to lift a finger.”

You crossed your arms, raising an eyebrow as you stood your ground. “Elliott Marston, I’ve been running this household like a well-oiled machine for years. Don’t think for a second I’m gonna sit back while you do all the work. We’re in this together, aren’t we?”

Elliott chuckled softly, his hazel eyes twinkling with amusement. “Stubborn as a mule, you are,” he said with a smirk, but his voice carried a deep warmth. “Fine, if it makes you happy, we’ll set this bloody tent up together.”

As the two of you worked side by side, you couldn’t help but feel a little mischievous. The close proximity, the quiet rustle of the forest, and the romantic glow of the lamps brought a playful energy to the air. You caught Elliott sneaking glances at you more than once, and each time he did, your heart fluttered a little faster.

After a few minutes of quiet teamwork, you broke the silence with a teasing tone. “You didn’t have to do all this, you know. Our wedding anniversary’s still a good two weeks away.”

Elliott paused, his hands gripping the edge of the tent as he turned to look at you, his expression softening. “I know,” he said quietly, his baritone voice losing some of its gruffness. “But I’ve seen how stressed you’ve been, with all the chores and runnin’ the house. You’re always on your feet, always lookin’ after everyone but yourself. I figured, why wait two weeks to celebrate? I thought it’d do us both good to have a bit of time away from all the chaos.”

Your heart swelled at his words, and you couldn’t help the affectionate smile that spread across your face. “You big softie,” you teased gently, moving closer to him. “I didn’t know you were paying such close attention.”

Elliott smirked, reaching out to pull you into his arms. “I always pay attention, darlin’. I may not be the most romantic bloke, but I notice things. Like how your shoulders tense up when you’ve been workin’ too hard, or how you bite your lip when you’re thinkin’ about a million things at once.”

You leaned into his chest, resting your head against his broad shoulder as his arms tightened around you. “I appreciate it,” you whispered, your voice soft with emotion. “More than you know.”

Elliott’s fingers trailed down your back, his touch firm but gentle. “I reckon I’ve got a good way to help you relax, love,” he murmured, his voice low and sultry. “Why don’t you lie down on that blanket, and let me show you how much I appreciate everything you do for me?”

You felt a shiver of anticipation run through you at the way his voice dropped, that familiar commanding tone slipping into his words. “Elliott,” you breathed, your cheeks flushing as you looked up at him. “You always know how to push my buttons, don’t you?”

He chuckled darkly, his mustache twitching as a wicked smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “That’s ‘cause I know exactly what you need,” he replied, his eyes darkening with lust. “And I’m more than happy to give it to you.”

You moved toward the blanket, feeling the warm glow of the lamps flicker around you as you settled onto the soft fabric. The air was cool but not uncomfortably so, the distant sounds of the wilderness adding to the intimate atmosphere that Elliott had so carefully prepared. With a contented sigh, you reached for the basket of food you had prepared earlier in the day, the smell of roasted meats and fresh bread mixing with the earthy scent of the forest. But before you began arranging the meal, you set the basket aside, knowing Elliott would want to be part of this shared moment.

You glanced over your shoulder to see him finishing with the tent, his strong hands moving deftly as he secured the last of the pegs in place. Once done, he wiped his hands on his trousers, straightened up, and walked toward you with that signature swagger of his, his Zappa mustache twitching with satisfaction. The sight of him, illuminated by the soft light of the oil lamps, made your heart race. He looked rugged, powerful, and undeniably handsome, the kind of man who could command a room—or a wilderness—with nothing more than a glance.

Elliott knelt beside you, taking off his wide-brimmed hat and placing it carefully to the side. His eyes met yours, filled with warmth and something more primal that made your breath catch. Without a word, he helped you arrange the food on the blanket, his movements slow and deliberate, as though savoring the simple act of being close to you. His fingers brushed yours now and then, sending little sparks of electricity through your skin.

As the food was spread out, Elliott unbuckled the holster strapped across his chest and carefully laid his pistols and rifle to the side, close enough to reach in case of trouble but far enough to let him relax. The soft clinking of metal was the only sound breaking the silence between you, but the tension was palpable, the air thick with anticipation.

Elliott stretched out beside you, his hazel eyes glimmering in the lamplight as he looked up at the stars scattered across the inky sky. “Look at that,” he murmured, his deep, baritone voice vibrating through the quiet. “Not a damn cloud in sight. Couldn’t have asked for a better night, eh?”

You smiled, leaning back on your hands as you gazed up at the stars too. “No,” you agreed softly, “it’s perfect.”

But your attention wasn’t on the stars for long. You turned your gaze back to Elliott, watching the way the firelight danced across his rugged features, making him look even more handsome. The roughness of his face, the hooked nose, the strong jawline, and that damn mustache—everything about him exuded strength, but tonight, there was a tenderness in the way he looked at you that made your heart flutter.

“You’re starin’, darlin’,” Elliott drawled with a smirk, his voice laced with amusement. “What’s on your mind?”

You shifted, moving closer to him until you were almost touching. “Just thinking about how lucky I am,” you whispered, your voice barely more than a breath. “You went to all this trouble just for me.”

Elliott chuckled, a deep, rumbling sound that made your body tingle. “Ain’t no trouble,” he murmured, reaching out to trail a finger down your arm. “Nothin’s too much for my girl.”

The way he said it—possessive, protective—sent a shiver of excitement through you. His touch, though light, felt like a promise of something more.

As the night deepened and the stars above burned with a cold, distant light, Elliott rose to gather some nearby branches. His movements were purposeful, each step deliberate as he searched for the driest wood to build a fire. You watched him from your place on the blanket, admiring the way his broad shoulders moved under the fabric of his shirt, the light from the oil lamps casting his features in sharp relief. There was a primal satisfaction in seeing him work, in knowing that this strong, capable man was yours.

With the firewood gathered, Elliott crouched near one of the lamps, carefully lighting a small bundle of kindling before transferring the flame to the pile of branches. Within moments, the fire crackled to life, its warm glow chasing away the night’s chill. Elliott sat back on his heels for a moment, watching the flames dance, before returning to your side.

The two of you settled into a comfortable silence, the crackling of the fire and the distant sounds of the Australian bush your only companions. Elliott stretched out beside you on the blanket, his body close enough that you could feel the heat radiating from him. His eyes, now softened by the firelight, met yours, and he gave you that familiar, crooked smile that always made your heart skip a beat.

As the fire crackled warmly in front of you, Elliott reached over and plucked a piece of roasted meat from the basket, holding it up to your lips with a smirk. “Open up, love,” he said in that deep, commanding baritone, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

You playfully rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips as you obliged, taking the tender morsel from his fingers. The taste was rich, smoky, and perfectly seasoned—the result of hours spent preparing the meal earlier in the day. Elliott’s gaze lingered on you as you chewed, the firelight casting a golden glow on his rugged features.

“Mmm, you sure know how to spoil a girl,” you teased after swallowing, your voice light but full of affection.

“Only the best for you,” he replied, his tone warm but with that familiar edge of possessiveness that always sent a shiver down your spine. He reached for another piece of meat, and this time, you leaned forward and took it directly from his fingers with a slow, deliberate motion, your eyes never leaving his.

Elliott’s smirk deepened, his mustache twitching with amusement. “Cheeky little thing,” he murmured, leaning in to press a kiss to the corner of your mouth. The kiss was soft at first, just a gentle brush of his lips against yours, but it quickly deepened as you responded, your hand coming up to cup the back of his neck.

The taste of the roasted meat still lingered on your tongue, mingling with the warmth of his mouth as the kiss grew more urgent. Elliott’s hand slid up your back, pulling you closer, and you could feel the heat of his body seeping through your clothes. The blanket beneath you was soft, the fire warm, but all you could focus on was the man in front of you—the way his fingers tangled in your hair, the way his lips moved against yours with a hunger that sent your heart racing.

When you finally broke the kiss, you were both breathless, your foreheads resting against each other as you tried to catch your breath. “You’re playing with fire, Mr. Marston,” you whispered, your voice shaky with desire.

“Darlin’,” he replied, his voice low and rough, “I’m more than happy to get burned if it means I get to taste you again.” His words sent a wave of heat coursing through you, and you couldn’t help but shiver in response.

Elliott’s eyes darkened with lust as he watched your reaction, and he didn’t waste any time closing the distance between you once more. This time, when he kissed you, it wasn’t soft or gentle—it was fierce, hungry, as if he was trying to devour you whole. His hands roamed your body with a roughness that left you gasping, his fingers digging into your hips as he pulled you onto his lap.

You straddled him, your skirts bunching up around your thighs as you ground against him, desperate for more of that delicious friction. Elliott groaned into your mouth, his grip on you tightening as he pressed you even closer, his arousal hard and insistent beneath you.

“Christ, you feel so good,” he muttered against your lips, his accent thick and dripping with desire. “Been thinkin’ about this all bloody day.”

You moaned softly in response, your hands fisting in his shirt as you rocked against him, seeking relief from the growing ache between your legs. “Elliott,” you whimpered, your voice barely more than a breath. “Please…”

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his hazel eyes burning with intensity. “Please what, love?” he asked, his tone teasing but laced with an unmistakable edge of command. “You’ll have to be more specific.”

You bit your lip, your cheeks flushing with both desire and embarrassment. Elliott always knew how to push your buttons, how to make you beg for what you wanted. It was maddening, but it also made the eventual release that much sweeter.

“Please… touch me,” you finally managed, your voice trembling with need.

Elliott’s eyes darkened further, and he let out a low growl of approval. “Good girl,” he murmured, his voice sending a shiver down your spine. He leaned in to kiss you again, his lips bruising against yours as his hands moved to the laces of your bodice. With practiced ease, he began to undo them, his fingers working quickly as he stripped you of your clothes.

The cool night air kissed your skin as your bodice fell open, and Elliott wasted no time in slipping his hands beneath the fabric to cup your breasts, his thumbs brushing over your hardened nipples. You gasped at the sensation, your back arching as he teased you, his touch both rough and gentle at the same time.

“Look at you,” he murmured against your neck, his voice a low rumble that sent a wave of arousal straight to your core. “So bloody beautiful.”

His words, coupled with the feel of his hands on your skin, sent you spiraling further into desire. You clung to him, your fingers digging into his shoulders as you ground against him, desperate for more. “Elliott… please,” you begged, your voice shaky and full of need.

He let out a dark chuckle, clearly enjoying your desperation. “Patience, love,” he said, his voice rough with lust. “I want to take my time with you.”

But you were beyond patience, your body aching for his touch, for the release that only he could give you. “Elliott,” you whimpered, your voice breaking. “I need you.”

The raw need in your voice seemed to break through his restraint, and with a low growl, he flipped you onto your back, his body covering yours as he kissed you fiercely. His hands were everywhere—on your breasts, your hips, between your legs—stoking the fire that burned inside you until you were trembling with need.

Your body trembled beneath Elliott’s touch, every nerve ending ignited by the rough, deliberate way his hands roamed over your skin. He was taking his time, savoring every reaction, every shiver, and moan that escaped your lips. You knew this game well—he loved to tease, to draw out your pleasure until you were begging him for release. And as much as you loved his slow, torturous build-up, tonight you wanted something different. Tonight, you craved something raw, something that would satisfy the urgent need burning within you.

As Elliott’s lips moved to the sensitive spot on your neck, his hands teasingly tracing the curves of your body, you made a decision. You weren’t going to let him take things at his own pace—not this time. You wanted him, and you wanted him now.

Before Elliott could continue his slow, deliberate exploration of your body, you reached up, your fingers tangling in his hair as you pulled him up to meet your gaze. His hazel eyes, darkened with lust, flickered with surprise at your sudden assertiveness, but you didn’t give him a chance to question it.

“Elliott,” you murmured, your voice low and husky with desire, “I need you to fuck me… but before that, I want to taste you.”

The words hung in the air between you, heavy with intent. Elliott’s eyes widened slightly, his nostrils flaring as he took in your request. His Zappa mustache twitched with a smirk, his baritone voice rough as he replied, “You cheeky little minx. You know how to push my buttons, don’t ya?”

You smirked up at him, your fingers still tangled in his hair as you leaned in, your lips brushing against his in a teasing kiss. “I know what I want,” you whispered, your breath warm against his skin. “And right now, I want your cock in my mouth.”

Elliott groaned, the sound low and guttural as he pulled back slightly to look at you, his eyes blazing with a mix of surprise and desire. “You’re a bloody temptress,” he growled, his Australian accent thickening with the intensity of the moment. “But who am I to deny my girl what she wants?”

With that, he shifted, moving to sit back on his heels as he undid the buttons of his trousers with a deliberate slowness that made your heart race. You watched, your breath coming in short, eager bursts as he freed himself from the confines of his clothes, his hard cock standing proudly before you, the sight of it making your mouth water with anticipation.

Elliott’s eyes never left yours as he leaned back, bracing himself on one arm while the other hand guided his cock towards your lips. “Go on, love,” he murmured, his voice rough with need. “Show me what that pretty mouth can do.”

You didn’t need to be told twice. Leaning forward, you wrapped your hand around the base of his cock, feeling the heat and the weight of him in your grasp. You licked your lips, your eyes locked on his as you took him into your mouth, your tongue swirling around the head as you sucked gently, savoring the taste of him.

Elliott let out a low, satisfied groan, his hand coming to rest on the back of your head as he guided you, his grip firm but not forceful. “That’s it, love,” he muttered, his voice thick with pleasure. “Just like that… bloody perfect.”

You moaned softly around his cock, the vibrations sending a shiver of pleasure through both of you as you took him deeper, your lips stretching around his thick length. You could feel the muscles in his thighs tensing beneath your hands, the way his breath hitched every time your tongue flicked over a particularly sensitive spot.

“Fuck, darlin’,” Elliott growled, his accent rough and raw as he watched you, his hazel eyes dark with lust. “You’re gonna make me come if you keep that up.”

But that was exactly what you wanted. You hollowed your cheeks, increasing the suction as you took him deeper, your hand stroking the base of his cock in time with the movements of your mouth. The taste of him, the feel of him filling your mouth, sent a wave of arousal straight to your core, and you moaned again, the sound vibrating through him and driving him wild.

Elliott’s grip on your hair tightened, his breath coming in short, ragged bursts as he fought to maintain control. “Christ, you’re good at this,” he muttered, his voice a low growl. “But I’m not done with you yet, love. I wanna see you take every inch of me, feel you clench around my cock while I fuck you senseless.”

His words sent a jolt of arousal through you, and you knew that as much as you wanted to bring him to the edge with your mouth, you wanted even more to feel him inside you, to have him bury himself deep within you as he lost control. With one final, deliberate swirl of your tongue around the head of his cock, you pulled back, releasing him with a wet, needy gasp.

Elliott’s eyes blazed with a mix of frustration and lust as he watched you, his chest heaving with the effort to control himself. “You’re playin’ a dangerous game, darlin’,” he growled, his voice thick with need. “But you’re gonna get exactly what you’re askin’ for.”

Before you could respond, Elliott was on you, his hands rough and demanding as he pushed you back onto the blanket, his body covering yours with a fierce intensity that took your breath away. He didn’t waste any time, his hands pushing up your skirts as he settled between your thighs, his hard cock pressing against your entrance with a delicious, teasing pressure.

You gasped, your back arching as you felt the heat of him against you, your body trembling with anticipation. “Elliott,” you whimpered, your voice shaky with need. “Please… don’t tease me… I need you inside me.”

Elliott’s eyes darkened further, his jaw clenched as he fought to maintain control. “You want it, love?” he growled, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. “You’re gonna take every inch of me, and you’re gonna love it.”

With that, he thrust into you, burying himself to the hilt in one powerful, unrelenting motion that left you gasping for breath. The sensation of him filling you completely, stretching you in the most delicious way, sent a wave of pleasure crashing through you, your body trembling with the intensity of it.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” Elliott groaned, his voice rough and raw as he began to move, his hips driving into you with a fierce, demanding rhythm. “So tight… so bloody perfect.”

You moaned, your hands clawing at his back as you clung to him, your body arching up to meet his every thrust. The intensity of his movements, the way he filled you so completely, drove you wild with desire, your mind consumed by the sheer pleasure of it all.

“Elliott,” you gasped, your voice trembling with need. “Don’t stop… please… don’t stop…”

But Elliott had no intention of stopping. His thrusts only grew harder, deeper, each one driving you closer to the edge as he took you with a rough, primal intensity that left you breathless. The sound of your bodies coming together, the heat of the fire, the feel of his cock stretching you with every thrust—it was all too much, too perfect, and you could feel yourself spiraling towards release.

“You’re mine, love,” Elliott growled, his voice thick with command as he drove into you, his hips slamming against yours with bruising force. “Say it. Say you’re mine.”

“I’m yours,” you gasped, your voice breaking with pleasure as your body trembled beneath him. “I’m yours, Elliott… only yours…”

Elliott’s growl of satisfaction sent a shiver down your spine as he pounded into you with renewed vigor, his cock hitting that perfect spot inside you with every thrust, driving you closer and closer to the edge. Your nails dug into his back, your breath coming in short, desperate bursts as you clung to him, your body begging for release.

But Elliott’s movements became more deliberate, his rough urgency giving way to a slower, more sensual rhythm. He leaned down, his warm breath brushing against your skin as he took one of your nipples into his mouth. The sensation of his hot, wet tongue circling the sensitive bud made you gasp, your back arching as a wave of pleasure washed over you.

His teeth grazed your nipple lightly before sucking it deeper into his mouth, sending a shiver of arousal straight to your core. His hazel eyes flicked up to meet yours, dark with desire, and the intensity of his gaze made your heart race. You felt every inch of him inside you, each slow, deliberate thrust sending sparks of pleasure through your body. His balls gently slapped against you with each movement, a rhythmic reminder of the intimate connection you shared in this secluded, star-lit forest.

The world around you faded into the background—the soft rustle of leaves, the distant call of a night bird, the crackle of the fire. None of it mattered. The only thing that existed was Elliott—his body pressed against yours, his cock filling you so completely, his mouth worshiping your breasts with a reverence that made your breath hitch.

Elliott’s lips moved from one breast to the other, his tongue teasing and flicking against your other nipple before he took it into his mouth, sucking gently. His mustache tickled your skin, adding to the overwhelming sensations that had you trembling beneath him. The pace of his thrusts slowed even further, each one deep and unhurried, as if he was savoring the feeling of being inside you, of making love to you under the stars.

You slipped your hands under his shirt, your fingers grazing the warm, taut skin of his back as you traced the muscles there. The contrast between the rough fabric of his shirt and the smoothness of his skin was intoxicating, and you couldn’t get enough of the feel of him, the way his body responded to your touch.

“Bloody hell, love,” Elliott murmured against your skin, his baritone voice thick with emotion as he pressed a kiss to the valley between your breasts. “You feel so damn good… so warm and soft."

You moaned softly in response, your hands roaming over his back, his shoulders, the curve of his spine as you pulled him closer, wanting to feel every inch of him. “Elliott,” you whispered, your voice trembling with need. “Don’t stop… please…”

He lifted his head, his hazel eyes locking onto yours as he slowed his thrusts even more, each movement measured, deliberate. “I’m not going anywhere, love,” he growled softly, his voice full of promise. “I’m right here… and I’m gonna make sure you feel every bit of me.”

The way he spoke, the raw desire in his voice, made your heart flutter. You could feel the depth of his love, his need to connect with you on the most intimate level. And as he continued to move inside you, his thrusts slow and deep, the sensation of his cock filling you, stretching you, made your body tremble with pleasure.

Elliott’s lips returned to your breasts, trailing kisses along your skin, his mustache brushing against your sensitive flesh. Each touch, each kiss, was like a spark, igniting the fire that burned between you. His hands gripped your hips, holding you in place as he moved, his cock sliding in and out of you with a languid, sensual rhythm that left you gasping for breath.

“Feel that, love?” Elliott whispered, his voice a low, dangerous purr. “Feel how deep I am inside you? How perfectly we fit together?”

You could only moan in response, your fingers digging into his back as you arched up to meet his thrusts, your body aching for more. The slow, deliberate pace was driving you wild, each thrust sending a wave of pleasure through you that built and built until you thought you might explode from the intensity of it.

Elliott’s mouth found your neck, his teeth grazing your skin before he pressed a kiss to the spot just below your ear. “You’re mine,” he growled softly, his voice filled with possessiveness and love. “Always mine."

“Yes,” you gasped, your voice trembling with emotion. “I’m yours, Elliott… always.”

His growl of satisfaction vibrated against your skin, and he shifted his weight slightly, driving into you at a slightly different angle that made you cry out in pleasure. The sensation was overwhelming, the way he filled you so completely, the way his body moved against yours, the heat of the fire warming your skin as the cool night air brushed over you.

Elliott’s hands slid down to your thighs, lifting them slightly so he could thrust even deeper, his movements still slow and deliberate, but with a renewed intensity that made your toes curl. His cock filled you, stretched you, each thrust sending waves of pleasure radiating through your body.

“Christ, love,” he muttered, his voice rough with desire. “You feel so bloody perfect… so tight around me.”

You whimpered in response, your hands fisting in the fabric of his shirt as you clung to him, your body trembling with the intensity of the sensations he was wringing from you. Every nerve ending was alive with pleasure, every touch, every thrust driving you closer to the edge.

“Elliott,” you gasped, your voice barely more than a breath. “I’m so close… please…”

He lifted his head, his hazel eyes blazing with intensity as he looked down at you, his thrusts slowing even more, each movement deep and deliberate. “I’ve got you, love,” he murmured, his voice filled with a mix of command and affection. “Come for me… let go.”

His words were your undoing. With a final, deep thrust, he pushed you over the edge, your body convulsing with pleasure as your orgasm crashed over you, your inner walls clenching around his cock like a vise. You cried out his name, your voice echoing through the forest as wave after wave of ecstasy washed over you, your body trembling with the force of it.

Elliott groaned, his own release following moments later as he buried himself deep inside you, his cock pulsing as he filled you with his hot seed. He kept moving, riding out both of your orgasms, his thrusts slow and deliberate, prolonging the pleasure until you were both spent, your bodies trembling with the intensity of the experience.

When it was over, Elliott collapsed against you, his chest heaving as he caught his breath. His hands slid up to cup your face, his lips brushing against yours in a soft, tender kiss that made your heart swell with love.

“Happy anniversary, my darling,” he murmured, his voice filled with a mix of affection and exhaustion. “I love you… now and always.”

You smiled weakly, your body still trembling from the force of your orgasm as you looked up at him. “I love you too, Elliott,” you whispered, your voice full of emotion. “Now and always.”

As you lay there, wrapped in each other’s arms under the starry sky, the fire crackling softly beside you, you knew that this moment—this connection—was something special, something that would only grow stronger with time. The love you shared, the way you fit together so perfectly, was something to be cherished, something that would last a lifetime.

[bettyfrommars]

I'm on Fire//older!biker!Eddie Munson x fem!artist!Reader//90's au//Part 7

⚠️Cautions: 18+Only pls, MDNI, eventual smut, mention of smut, mention of erection, flirting, crushing on each other, reader gets fired, alcohol consumption, jealous!Eddie, biker!Eddie, boxer!Eddie, biker!Steve, relationship drama, threats against loved ones, hints at a violent past, vindictive exes, aggression (not at reader), mention of handgun, angst, mutual pining, slow burn. Word count: 7.6k

Series Masterlist

Suddenly unemployed and in the wind, you wander into the bar where biker!Steve Harrington works the door, and new opportunities arise. Just as you and Eddie are navigating getting closer, someone from Eddie's past drops a bomb on him that he can't ignore, and he does his best to protect you from the backlash. Dirty deeds get done not so dirt cheap. I'm on Fire 90's playlist here

A/N: Nothing really, just wanted to tell those of you who have been supporting and encouraging this story how much you all mean to me, and how much I love hearing from you. Big love to my bestie for helping me put together the playlist for this series, it's all I've been listening to lately. Oh ALSO, I'm working on a smutty oneshot in honor of biker!Steve's character in this story, a little companion piece, *cumming* soon 🫦 biker!Steve oneshot here

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I'm on Fire Part 7: The Velvet Hammer

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Your eyes flew open early on Monday morning as dawn was barely breaking, to find that the emotions of sadness and fear were gone for the moment: they had been replaced by a white-hot anger that burned in your chest.

In a burst, you cursed, threw your covers off, and had an imaginary conversation with your ex-boss Judith, complete with shaking your fist in the air, eyebrows jutting together. She couldn’t just let you go and replace you without any warning---the whole thing was absurd. You made your coffee and went back to your room so that you could avoid Katie as she got ready for work. You weren’t mad at her; you just didn’t want to have to answer any questions or mull it over. In the state you were in, you were worried that you might snap at her for no reason.

A tiny part of you still hoped (prayed) that it was all a misunderstanding, and maybe you had some vacation days coming that you had simply slipped your mind. That small glimmer of possibility was immediately stamped out with a waffle-sole, steel toe boot when you found your other assistant Holly already behind the front desk when she hadn’t originally been scheduled to be there until noon. Her presence alone was not the final straw---it was the look on her face. The second she saw you, she blushed and got flustered, pretending to organize papers, trying overly hard to appear nonchalant.

You were hoping for Judith, that was the bitch you wanted to see, but Holly informed you with quivering hands that she had just left a half hour ago to catch a flight to Cozumel for a “rejuvenation retreat”. You could tell that being involved in any type of conflict, even passively, was making Holly’s anxiety spike.

“She told me to give you this,” Holly said, reluctantly sliding an envelope across the desk, and then in a whisper, she added, “I’m sorry, I didn’t want to be the one to--”

You did your best to shake your head and smile and told her it wasn’t her fault. You walked to the other side of the gallery to check the envelope. It was your final paycheck, along with a typed note that basically said, “Thank you for the work you’ve done, but I’ve decided to hire another manager that is a better fit for the gallery. I am longer in need of your services. Best of luck in your future endeavors. Namaste, Judith.”

It was that Namaste that had you breathing out your nose like a dragon, crumpling the note up in a tight ball, nostrils flaring. The letter wasn’t even signed; Judith probably made Holly type it.

You went to get your things out of the cubby in the back room, and while you were there, you tried Judith’s house phone just in case, but there was no answer. That cunt really had the nerve to fire you out of the blue after working there almost a year, and didn’t even have the tits to say it to your face, forcing shy little Holly take the brunt of it. You were on the verge of going full Coffin King MC on her ass.

When you came out with your wire basket full of things, you apologized to Holly for putting her in the middle of this, as you reached around to take the mason jars full of colored markers, highlighters, and pencils that were on the desk dear the typewriter. “These are mine, I bought these. Tell Judith if she has a problem, she can come find me.”

You took one last look around the gallery that you genuinely loved, asked Holly to stay in touch, and had to swallow a lump in your throat as you crossed the street to your car.

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Eddie worked a long day at the garage, running tows, fielding resumes for part-time office help, and thinking about you. There was a disturbance in the force, as they say, and he hoped to get a call from you later so that he would know that you were okay.

Instead, at around 8:30pm, he got a call from Steve. Eddie could tell by the music that he was at the Velvet Hammer, which was a well-known cocktail lounge, frequented by bankers and bikers alike, where Steve worked as a bouncer from time to time. The waitresses all wore skimpy, edgy outfits, and there was professional pole dancing and strippers offering lap dances on the weekends.

“Dude,” Steve said once Eddie picked up. “Your girl is here, just thought you’d want to know.”

Eddie had been digging around for a lighter in the drawer of his nightstand, in nothing but a pair of boxers, but at that, he froze and straightened up, his brow clenched. “What do you mean she’s there? Where? At the Velvet Hammer?” It wasn’t only the location that took him by surprise, but the fact that it was a Monday, and you weren’t one to bar hop in the middle of the week.

Steve lowered the phone while he shouted to someone, the song Low by Cracker blasting loud in the background. “Yeah, man. She was here when I came in, I don’t know, it seems like she’s having a bad day,” Steve tucked the phone into his shoulder so that he could ask someone for their ID. “There was some dude bothering her earlier, but I took care of it. I can’t watch her every second though---” Eddie cut him off, clenching the phone so tight, the knuckle of his hand went white. “Who was bothering her?”

Steve rested the phone with the long, spiral cord on his chest to talk to someone else for a second, but when he got back on the line, Eddie had hung up.

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After you walked out of the gallery for the last time, you deposited your check, and as frugal as you normally were, you took a bit of cash out to treat yourself after getting canned in such a depressing way. You hung out at a B. Dalton’s for an hour and bought a book, and then you tried on some clothes at one of your favorite shops, but nothing fit right; you felt like you were crawling out of your skin. You went home and had lunch, took care of Charlie, did some laundry while watching daytime soap operas, started feeling worse about yourself, and then decided to go down and get a paper at the coffee shop to start hunting for a new job. You didn’t want to be home when Katie got back from work; you still weren’t ready to talk about it.

Coffee and a browse through the dismal job market turned into a walk around the park, and then you just kept going for 5 or 6 blocks until you realized you were standing on the corner across from a bar called the Velvet Hammer. Wasn’t that where Steve said he worked the door every so often? The exterior was black with dark red trim, and you thought maybe you’d been there for a drink once when you first moved to town, but you couldn’t remember. The sandwich board on the sidewalk out front said “Happy Hour menu Half off appetizers 3:30-6:30” and you decided to have a bite before you made the trek back to your car.

Steve was not there when you first arrived, and you were close to missing the happy hour cut off, so you ordered some food right away, and a cocktail to wash it down. The inside was also black and red, with a big chandelier hanging from the ceiling, a long mirror behind the bar, and an old fashioned jukebox lit up in a red and blue arch in the corner. There were two empty stages at the far back, with shiny poles down the middle, and a pretty, tattooed girl in a red leather romper waited on the scattering of customers that were there.

Whereas most bars played sports on TV, the Velvet Hammer played old black and white b-horror movies, and you were absorbed in a scene from Plan 9 From Outer Space when the bartender with the shaved head and double nose piercing asked with a dimpled smile if you wanted another drink.

Candy by Iggy Pop and Kate Pierson was playing, and it had you in a mood, so you nodded to say yes, please---I would love another.

A half hour later, you said yes to another refill and ate a few pretzels, looking around to see that the bar was filling up. There were two more cocktail waitresses there and each wore less clothes than the first. The movie on the TV now was The Creeping Terror from 1964, and just as one of the actresses turned to the camera and put her hands to her head for a silent, blood-curdling scream, someone tapped your shoulder and hissed, “BOO!”, right in your ear.

You whipped around on your bar stool, relieved to find out that the marauder was Steve Harrington.

He had his Coffin King’s MC biker cut on over a white t-shirt, exposing his heavily tattooed arms and hands, dark wash Levi’s, and he had his sunglasses on even though it felt like nighttime inside the bar.

He leaned over to hook his elbow on the bar, pushing his sunglasses into his thick head of hair to address you. “What’s up, lady friend? Who are you here with?” He looked around as he asked it, as if he automatically assumed you were with Katie or Eddie, and not just drinking alone at a bar on a Monday night.

You tugged at your ear self-consciously and palmed the new drink in front of you. “Just me, I’m afraid,” you took a sip, moving the red stir straws out of the way with your nose. “I’m about to light up that jukebox, you have any requests?”

Steve slapped the bar enthusiastically. “Hell yeah, I do, hold on,” he waved the bartender down and asked them to hand him some quarters. Apparently there was a stash of coins near the cash register there to keep the music going.

He clapped 10 or 12 quarters on the table in front of you. “Maybe some STP, anything Ozzy,” he continued, giving his requests. “I’m a sucker for that Alanis Morisette chick, too, but don’t tell Eddie,” he said with a wink.

“Anything you want, really,” he kept talking as he backed up, heading to his bouncer stool at the front door. “As long as it’s not fucking lame,” and then he smiled and flipped his sunglasses back down over his eyes.

A bit later, as you made your way back from the jukebox, some guy stepped into your path, immediately invading your bubble.

“Hey, beautiful, can I buy you a drink?” He asked, and his presence took you a bit off guard because you were so deeply concentrating on the song list you just put together, your head was in another world. The guy had slicked back, inky black hair, a teardrop tattoo under his eye, and incisors that looked like fangs.

“That’s okay, thank you,” you mumbled with a half smile as you went to walk around him.

But, he slid to the side, blocking your way again. “Just one drink? I hate to see a beautiful woman drinking alone.”

From across the room, Steve shouted at the guy with the fangs—apparently he knew his name---and when the guy snapped a look in his direction, Steve sliced his hand across his throat and shook his head, warning him to back off. Without a fuss, the fang guy ducked back into the shadows, hands in his pockets, sulking to find his table without so much as another glance in your direction.

Steve could see this shit coming a mile away; you were getting relaxed, and you were alone, and that level of vulnerability never failed to bring a bad element out of the woodwork. He didn’t mind keeping an eye on you, but it was getting busy for a Monday night because of the free darts and pool, and that was when he decided to call Eddie.

------------

Steve was smoking a cigarette when he waved Eddie in without a word, the two exchanging a quick hand grab in passing. Eddie’s gaze landed on you immediately; sitting at the bar, face tilted up to watch the TV, and that familiar thrill of being near you again stirred in him.

“Is this seat taken?” He was already straddling the padded stool as he said it, brushing up against your body as he did so.

You could feel someone approaching in your peripheral vision, and you were bracing yourself for another unwanted advance. But, then you smelled him; that unmistakable woodsy spice with bar soap and leather undertones. You felt his presence; big and sturdy and warm. There he was, right out of a dream, in his Coffin Kings leather, just like Steve’s, but with a long sleeve black shirt pushed up to the elbows, hair back in a knot so that it wouldn’t drive him crazy on the ride over, forearms and fingers patched in tattoos. He wasn’t wearing his chunky rings, and it made you wonder if he had been in a rush to leave his place. His knuckles were crisscrossed in raised white scars, as well as one particularly angry one that went all the way down his middle finger and back of his hand.

You made sure it was him first, and then you couldn’t wait to be in his arms. He turned in his seat to face you so that your hips fit in between his wide knees, and you fell against him, rested your head in the crook of his neck, closing your eyes for a second, soaking in the secure feeling of his arms locking around you.

He squeezed you so tight, something in your back popped, and then he loosened his grip, unsure of his own strength sometimes. “You okay?” He asked, his head turning so that his lips were pressed against the back of your head.

You had both of your arms against your chest so that your hands were balled up into tiny fists in between your two bodies. “I’ve been better,” you told him, shoulders hunched.

Some of your hair caught on the stubble of his jaw as you pulled back to find his lips with yours. You exchanged a few sweet kisses, foreheads locking together as you fingered the single earring dangling from his lobe, before stepping up onto your seat again. Facing one another, you each had a forearm resting on the bar, and Eddie cupped his hand over yours, protectively.

God, he was crazy about you, Eddie thought.

He could tell that you weren’t yourself. His eyes shifted around the room, jaw muscles flexing. “Did someone in here fuck with you?”

“No, no, it wasn’t that,” you avoided his eyes and looked at his hand that was on top of yours. “I got fired today,” you said as a reflexive, helpless smile flashed across your mouth.

Eddie set his head back an inch, lips parted, searching your face. “You’re joking?”

“Nope,” you offered a little snort. “Not this time, I’m afraid.” And then you gave him the Cliff Notes version of everything that had gone one from when Jeff came over the night before till now.

Eddie rubbed his thumb across your hand as you talked. He didn’t want to smother you, but if he wasn’t touching you, he thought maybe you’d just slip away. Was he touching you too much, or not enough? Healthy forms of attachment and displays of affection were not taught to him as a child; but he was an observant fuck, and a fast learner. The vulnerable side of him was the side that always got him hurt, heart trampled on, and so every time that natural urge showed itself, he would do his best to reel it back. There was something about you, though, that made him feel comfortable enough to show his affection in a way his heart ached to do.

The bartender brought Eddie a beer and set it on a napkin. He released your hand only to take a sip of it, thinking about what you’d just shared with him, and then his hand found yours again, giving it a reassuring pulse.

“By the looks of it, I’m not even sure she’ll even give me a good reference,” For all Judith’s faults, Moon River was one of the best, though, and you had dreamed about working there ever since you read an article about in Art World magazine.

“You should’ve called me,” Eddie put his other hand on your knee. “I would’ve come and picked you and---”

“Rescued me?” You gave him a shy look. “I know you would’ve. But you were working, and I’ve been trying not to make it a reality by talking about it. I haven’t even talked to Katie today.”

Much like Eddie, you weren’t used to reaching out to people when times got tough; your default was usually to hide and/or run as far away as possible. Even though you hadn’t done anything wrong that would warrant being fired in such a hasty manner, it still made you feel embarrassed, and you weren’t sure if you were ready to peel back all of those deeper layers with him in this early stage of dating.

There was a lull in the conversation as Creep by Stone Temple Pilots played in the background, and a bad feeling planted seeds in Eddie’s gut that had him wondering if maybe he had something to do with this. Was this Charlene’s doing? She had the reach, that was for sure, but to what end? She surely didn’t think that somehow hurting you would get him back in her bed. The math was not mathing, not by Eddie’s way of thinking, anyway.

He ducked his head to try and meet your lowered gaze, his fingers intertwining with yours on the bar. “Can I take you home after this?”

You took a deep breath and finished your drink in one final gulp, the melting ice crashing against your lips. You chewed a few bits as you answered him, “that’s probably a good idea. But I can call Katie, you don’t have to---”

“I’m taking you home.” His eyes were soft, but his tone let you know that he wouldn’t take no for an answer.

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Katie came out onto the porch in a bathrobe like the concerned mother you never had as Eddie pulled the bike to the curb to let you off; you kissed him on the cheek as you dismounted. She worried that you’d been in a car accident or something by how late he was bringing you back. You had left her a note on the kitchen counter, but it said you’d only be gone an hour or two, not seven.

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The only thoughts in Eddie’s head as he made his way back to the garage were wondering how he could help make things better for you. He couldn’t muscle someone into getting your job back, but there were plenty of people who would hire you at various places if he told them to. Then there was that office assistant he needed, but he wouldn’t be able to even pay you half what the gallery did---you’d be better off getting unemployment.

The bad feeling that all of this had been because of him blossomed into a full blown knee to the stomach when he saw the unmistakable polished, cherry red of Charlene’s Porsche parked directly across from the entrance to his apartment. She was leaning against the back, elbows on the trunk, feet crossed at the ankles, grinning like Satan’s spawn as she watched him pull in.

He took a minute to calm himself down as he parked the bike, slowly dismounting, keeping his back to her as he took off his helmet. God, he did not want to deal with this shit right now. He would never physically hurt her, and she knew that, and it felt like she was really shoving that fact in his face.

Every muscle in his body was tense as he headed in her direction across the mostly empty, dark parking lot, especially those in his face and hands.

“Trouble in paradise?” She quipped, looking down at her nails, fanning them out like claws. She was in a tight, leopard print pencil skirt halter dress, and a cropped, bolero style fur coat.

First, he wanted to make sure they were both on the same page. “Are you the reason she got fired?”

Charlene crossed her arms over her chest and shrugged. “I might have convinced a handful of people to ignore Judith and never spend money in her gallery ever again unless she let that girl go, so, sure, I guess maybe I did have something to do with it.”

“You’re disgusting,” Eddie said it on a strained breath, a painful look on his face, bile rising in his throat. It was almost hard for him to look at her in that moment, he hated her so much.

“And you’re a fucking liar,” Charlene spat, jutting her chin out a few times, stabbing her finger in the air at him. “You told me you cared about me.”

Eddie had so many residual regrets for the things his dick made him do sometimes, it wasn’t even funny.

He cocked one knee out to the side. “So, you thought that by hurting her, I’d somehow get back in your bed? You’re out of your fucking mind, Charlene.”

“Baby, don’t you remember how we used to---” she pushed off the car and dove to grab his arm, but he stepped back, out of her reach.

“Don’t call me that,” he warned, cringing.

“Fine!” Judith barked showing the palms of her hands in mocking surrender. “But I miss it, I miss us. I know you do too.”

Without hesitation, Eddie shook his head, his voice a deep murmur. “I don’t miss it at all. I don’t miss us, because there never was an us.”

“You don’t mean that,” she bit, pouting, trying hard to pull a few crocodile tears to the surface of her icy hazel eyes.

“Listen,” Eddie paused to chew his top lip. He didn’t want to knowingly break anyone's heart, not even Charlene's. At one point in their fling, he could tell that her feelings for him were way more intense than his were for her, and he should’ve called it off then, but the money made him greedy and careless. “I’m sorry you got hurt in all this, okay, we had some fun while it lasted. But you have to fucking fix this, Charlene, I’m serious.”

She rolled her eyes. “Fix what? It’s done,” she scoffed. “She’ll have to get a new job, big deal. It’s not the end of the world.”

“You’ve never had to work a day in your life. You wouldn’t last a week in her shoes.”

“I’d trade lives with her in a second,” she blurted. “If it meant you’d look at me the same way you look at her.”

He puffed out a long held, heavy breath. “It’s been fun catching up. I’m going inside. You know the way out.”

If he knew that any number of words—besides lying and saying he loved her---would get you your job back, or turn back the hands of time, Eddie would’ve stood there and negotiated all night, but he knew his efforts were futile.

He was a couple steps away when she called out to him again, and this time; her tone was frigid, void of any emotion.

“You should know it’s only going to get worse for her,” she promised. Eddie stopped in his tracks, flexing his hands, but didn’t turn around, and so she continued. “I’ll make sure she’s rejected by every gallery for a hundred mile radius, and then she’ll have no choice but to move away, or stay here with you and watch her dreams die.”

One of his hands clenched into a fist, knowing that it wasn’t a bluff, trying so hard to push down the violence he felt rising in him.

“And her friend, Kathrine Clayton,” Charlene continued, letting him know the creepy detail that she had somehow ascertained your roommates full name. “I wonder how the parents in town would feel about overhearing horrible rumors involving the woman teaching their kids.”

At that Eddie turned around slow, eyes narrowing, voice booming. “What do want, Charlene? You want us to go back to fucking again, is that what it will take?” He didn’t want to touch Charlene, let alone put his cock inside of her, but he’d do it one more time if it meant she’d leave you and Katie alone. Take one for the team, as they say.

“No, not really,” She shrugged, a bored expression on her face. “I’m fucking someone new now. He’s younger than you, and he can’t get enough of me. It took me a while to find a bent cock as big as yours, but I knew I would eventually.”

This bitch is fucking crazy, Eddie swallowed, full of shame for ever getting involved with her in the first place. “What did you do, put an ad in the paper?”

“I’ll tell you what I want,” Charlene continued, ignoring his second question. “It’s very simple. I don’t want you to see her anymore, I want you to end it. I hate knowing the two of you are...falling for each other, it makes me sick. Especially when I think it could have been us.”

Eddie’s temper flared, he slammed his fist into the palm of his hand and closed in on her in two big strides, forcing her back up against the bumper. “Why can’t you get it through your fucking head that you were nothing but a warm mouth to me? I care more about her after only a few weeks than I ever did about you.”

Seemingly unaffected by those words, Charlene sighed and dropped her arms to her sides. “Well, if you care about her as much as you say you do, I encourage you to think about what I just said,” she shimmied in her high heels over the driver’s side of her Porsche, opening the door. “If you continue to see her, I’m going to ruin her life and run her out of town, and it will be all your fault, big boy.”

She waved her fingers out the window as she zoomed away from the complex. Eddie stood in the shadows and watched her go, his eyes going black, considering what she said, and realizing what he had to do as a vast and familiar emptiness grew in his chest.

--------------

The next day, you were playing with the zipper of your hoodie, sitting at the window alcove in the kitchen, holding a pillow at your stomach, thinking about the phone call you just got from Steve.

You didn’t tell Steve you’d lost your job, but word travels fast in these friend circles. Katie must’ve told Robin, and Robin mentioned to Steve that she could get you a job at the hotel, but Steve had a better idea.

They were hiring servers at the Velvet Hammer, and apparently the bartender with the shaved head who met you the night before was also the manager, and she thought you were cute and funny and you already had an “in”. At first, you were ready to politely decline his suggestion to bring a resume by, being that you had only worked a waitress job once right out of high school, but you weren’t sure you qualified as a Velvet Hammer Girl—you didn’t even own a spiked collar.

But then he told you what the girls there made as far as income, and it gave you pause.

“The base is minimum wage,” Steve said. “But they make crazy tips, especially Thursday through Sunday. You could pocket a couple hundred bills in a night, easy.”

Sure, you’d be applying to other galleries, but that process took time. First of all, there weren’t any in the area looking for managers at the moment, but even to get your foot in the door as a receptionist would take a while. It took damn near a month and three different interviews before you got on at Moon River.

You also considered that perhaps this was a sign that the gallery world was no longer for you. Maybe it was time to get a side hustle just to pay bills, and then you could start painting again and get your portfolio up to snuff.

You told Steve how grateful you were for giving you the heads up, and he let you know the best times to bring a resume by. He also told you that the resume was basically just a formality because he had already vouched for you, but a necessity, nonetheless.

With all the drama, you almost forgot that it was Tuesday, and little cartoon hearts swam around your head when you remembered your date night with Eddie. You didn’t know where he was taking you, but he’d mentioned over the phone a few days ago that the place was new and supposedly hip. He told you to dress warm, and he’d pick you up in his Chevelle so you wouldn’t have to worry about clinging to the back of the bike in your dinner attire.

That afternoon, you were sifting through your closet for possible outfits, while simultaneously making a pile to donate to Goodwill, when the phone rang: it was Eddie.

Right away, you could tell that his tone was different; his words came out forced, like you were the last person he wanted to be talking to. You shook it off as him being distracted at work, because you could hear the other mechanics shouting in the background around the noise of electric drills and loud music.

Eddie’s eyes squeezed shut at the sound of your voice: the purpose for this phone call went against every fiber of his being. He’d been trying to convince himself that you weren’t special to him all day, but so far, it wasn’t working.

“Hey,” he stiffened, trying not to melt into a stupid grin at the way you said his name. “Something came up, and I have to cancel our thing tonight. Sorry.”

He wasn’t ready to let you go altogether, which was selfish, but he’d take it one day at a time until he could figure out a way to keep you. He had no way of knowing how much Charlene knew. He wouldn’t put it passed her to have a private investigator watching his ass 24/7. Even worse, she could’ve hired someone to watch you, and that kept him up at night.

Your heart sank, but you also understood how busy and complex his life was. “Oh, sure, Batman rides again, I get it,” you gave a little laugh, hoping to relieve any worries he had about having to cancel. You knew him well enough to know that he was a man of his word, and bailing on the date was probably the last thing he wanted to do. If only you knew the half of his anguish.

Eddie offered no retort, there was none of the flirtatious banter the two of you usually shared so effortlessly. He just cleared his throat, “anyway, that’s why I called. I have to run, talk to you later.”

You were just in the middle of saying something back when the line went to dial tone; your mouth hung open as you pulled the receiver away from your face to look at it, stunned. You blinked, turning to your cat Charlie who was stretched out on top of a pile of clean shirts on your bed. “Did he just hang up on us?” But Charlie only yawned in response.

Eddie did not, in fact, have anywhere to run to. He clicked the phone down and put his face in his dirty hands at the desk, hating himself.

-----------

Since your date got canceled, for whatever nefarious or benign reason, you decided to hike your resume over to the Velvet Hammer and introduce yourself properly to Shana, the manager with the shaved head and the fierce green eyes. She had clusters of black stars tattooed at her temples, and an anatomical heart tattoo on her bicep, right at her sleeve.

She basically hired you on the spot, but said they needed to give you a trial run for a night to shadow one of the girls to see if you could keep up the pace. She asked you to come in early for training on Thursday, and then you could start that same night if you were available. Paychecks came out every two weeks, but you’d be able to take home all of your cash tips immediately.

So, you had a job. A temporary one, to be sure, but still deeply appreciated, all the same. As much as it took a weight off of your shoulders, it also felt incredibly surreal. Also, you couldn’t help but wonder what Eddie would think.

-----------

“Steve did what?” Eddie barked at Robin who was standing in the doorway to the office, dropping off Oliver for an hour on Wednesday. He hadn’t meant for his tone to be so gruff.

She crossed her arms and leaned against the door frame. “She needed a job while she applied at other galleries, and he got her one. I thought you’d be grateful.”

He would be grateful, maybe later, when he was done seeing red with jealousy over all of the guys, he knew who would be hitting on you at that place. What if they tried to touch you? He couldn’t even think about it, he was about to pick the desk up and throw it across the room.

Robin snorted a laugh, watching him get so flustered, he dropped the same pen three times. “Dang, you really have it bad for this one, don’t you bubba?”

It occurred to him that he should talk to Robin about what was going on, about Charlene and the threats. She had always been a solid friend who afforded him years of good advice, but there was a part of him that didn’t want to get anyone else involved. It was his mess, and he needed to clean it up, if he even could.

That night, he sat in the chair by the window in his apartment with the TV on but the volume off, listening to I Stay Away by Alice in Chains, watching the phone as it rang, forcing himself not to pick it up. It was day 2 of trying to avoid you and pull away, and he was failing miserably at being cool about it. He had to say something to you, he couldn’t just make you suffer and not know what the fuck was going on in his head; that wasn’t fair to you. But then again, none of this was. It was official, he had inadvertently dragged you down into his filth.

He turned Charlene’s words over in his head, recalling the sincerity in her face as she said them, wondering how far she would take this. He’d seen her dirty deeds in action, he knew she was formidable.

The black phone under the singular light from the lamp on his nightstand started ringing again, but it cut off halfway through, as if the person calling had changed their minds or given up. As he sat there, he remembered how you rode his thigh the other night, the whimpers coming out of your mouth, and he had to palm his growing cock over his boxers. It was disturbing how bad he wanted you.

“Fuck it,” Eddie cursed, getting to his feet so that he could go over to the phone and call you.

But, just as he picked it up to dial, it was just about to ring, and there was someone on the other line.

“Eddie? Lover?” It was Erika. “You interested in a quickie to help you sleep? I drove by and saw your light on.”

-----------

After trying to call Eddie for the third—and decidedly final—time that night, you went out and flopped on the opposite end of the couch from Katie who was watching an episode of the show 3rd Rock from the Sun with a green beauty mask on her face.

“Still nothing?” She asked, peeling back a piece of string cheese. She knew you’d tried a couple times that night to get a hold of Eddie, and that he had canceled mysteriously on your date the night before.

“I know he’s got a lot on his plate,” you got comfortable, snuggling into the corner, ready to defend him even to yourself. “I just wish there was a way for him to let me know he’s okay. Send me an email or something. A few words, that’s all I ask.”

Your gut was telling you that something was definitely wrong, but, to be fair, you’d had your heart dragged through the mud before, and you worried that your gut was not a reliable source. You weren’t upset about the date being canceled, you didn’t even need to see him—even though that would be great----good communication was really all you asked for or needed. Your brain kept going back to the way he had been with you on Monday versus how he was with you on the phone yesterday; the two experiences were night and day. Had something happened between the time he dropped you off and the next afternoon? You checked with Robin, and you knew that Wayne was back on his feet. Maybe there had been some sticky Coffin King business that Eddie wasn’t at liberty to speak about.

You also tried to keep in mind that this whole little romance was as new as a spring daffodil, and even though you’d had a crush on him for over a month, you hadn’t progressed beyond kissing and heavy petting. Was there a chance you were reading the signals all wrong and he wasn’t as interesting in you as you thought?

Katie seemed to subliminally hear that question and answered you. “I wouldn’t worry about it, babes, the guy is nuts about you,” she turned to you and ate the rest of her cheese while there was a commercial on. “Robin said she hasn’t seen him this interested in a woman in years, and she’s known him since high school.”

“What else did Robin say?” This was helping you; this is what you needed. Why hadn’t she offered this information earlier?

She put two fingers to her mask to tap a few times, checking how tacky it felt, to know if she should wash it off yet or not. “She said that he got pretty jealous when she mentioned that you got the job at Velvet Hammer, and normally he doesn’t care what other women he’s dating do when they’re not with him.”

The silly truth was that, if Eddie told you he didn’t feel comfortable with you working there, you would’ve probably looked for something else. But, deciding to say nothing and be a ghost in the wind was not the right play to get what he wanted.

“I’m sure he’s just busy,” you announced, nodding to accentuate your point. “I’ll wait a day or two before I start freaking out.”

Katie gave you a thumbs up.

------------

Eddie told Erika not to call him again and practically hung up on her. It had been a while since they’d last hooked up, and if not for the incident with you at Fight Night, he would’ve all but forgotten about her.

Not twenty minutes later, shirtless in his boxers, he heard footsteps padding up the stairs to the floor of his apartment. This was particularly disturbing because it was late, and he wasn’t expecting anyone. He pulled his handgun out of its holster on the dresser and waited with it held low, standing just behind the door as the footsteps got closer.

“Who is it?” Eddie barked.

After a second of pregnant silence came the meek, “hi, it’s me. Erika.”

“Fuck my life,” Eddie hissed under his breath, holding the gun back and putting the safety on as he reached over to unlock the door and yank it open.

“I thought I just told you not to call or come over,” Eddie said, addressing her with raised eyebrows, just as he realized too late that he should’ve put a shirt on.

Erika was in a silver crop top and a pair of low-rise jeans, a pink heart dangling from her exposed belly button piercing. She was making a face and prancing back and forth a bit on each foot. “Can I please use your bathroom?”

Eddie blinked a few times, and then he scowled. “You came all the way over here in the middle of the night to use my bathroom?”

“No silly,” she giggled. “I came to see you. And to see if I left a pair of my earrings here the last time I came over.”

Eddie shook his head, slipping the gun back into its holster on his dresser with a sigh, and then shutting it in the top drawer. “I don’t have your earrings but go ahead. You know where it is.” What was he supposed to do? Make her pee out in the hallway?

He waited by the front door, standing holding it open, until he heard a flush, and then her high heels came clip-clopping back down the hall.

He pushed the door open further, holding his arm up high like an arch, making space so she could walk through. “Have a good night,” he said without meeting her eyes.

But she latched onto his chest, throwing herself against him, her lips grazing his neck, tongue lapping up to lick his earlobe. Eddie pushed her of reflexively but caught her so that she didn’t trip and fall, and now they were out in the main hallway that led to the stairs.

In perfect view of a large, street-facing window.

She was pouting, but he had her by both arms now, and he shook her a little, just enough to get her attention. “I don’t want this anymore,” his eyes were wide, searching hers. “Nod if you understand.”

But then she jutted her head forward, her lips making contact with his, her tongue flicking out dramatically.

“Fuck, STOP!” He growled pushing her away enough so that he could wipe his mouth with the back of his hand.

“But,” she gave him a coy look, adjusting her shirt. “I was thinking just one last time?”

She stole a quick side glance out the big window, but he didn’t catch it.

He composed himself, trying to imagine if he had a sister, how he’d want them to be treated in this moment, no matter how demented they were.

He took her hand in one of his and covered it with the other. “You’re a sweet girl, Erika. Go find a loyal, normal guy to care about you the way you deserve, okay? I’m not the one.”

He noticed a shift in her then, a sadness passed over her eyes; regret, maybe? Whatever it was, her appetite for him ceased and she seemed to curl into an invisible shell, shoulders sagging. She tugged her hand from his and tucked her chin, stepped forward only to hug his shoulder briefly as she went by.

“I’m so sorry, Eddie,” she said softly, pulling back to give him one last tortured look over her shoulder before she continued toward the stairs. “Please forgive me.”

Eddie stood there like a statue, hair hanging down his shoulders, hands paused in the air, wondering why the hell that had been so weird. Sure, Erika was a wild card, but showing up to use the bathroom, and then awkwardly trying to feel him up in the hallway, only to look like she was about to cry? It didn’t make any sense.

He followed a way behind her, and then made sure to put the bolt on the main door in the garage so that he wouldn’t have any more uninvited creeping visitors.

-----------

In the building across the street from Munson’s Garage, with a perfect view of the hallway outside of Eddie’s apartment, a man with a telephoto lens was taking pictures. Snapping what sounded like a billion at a time in the darkness of the abandoned warehouse. Click click click click click.

He was finishing up, packing his camera into its case, when Erika appeared reluctantly at the top of the stairs, her expression sullen.

“Here you go, dollface,” the much older, potbellied man said to her, pinching a wad of cash between his middle and index fingers and extending it to her. “You did real good.”

Erika swallowed as she took the money, her hands cold and shaking. Sure, she was upset that Eddie didn’t like her as much as she liked him, and she hated that new girl he was talking to, but she didn’t want to see anything bad happen to him.

“I don’t like this,” she told the photographer. “I wish I’d never agreed to do it.”

“Well,” the guy said, adjusting his fedora on his head as he put the strap of his bag over his shoulder, already out of breath from the mild exertion. “Sorry to be the one to tell you this, sweetheart, but no one gives a shit.”

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Part 8

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