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roosterr · 1 year

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white flag ✹ proglogue

note: can't believe i'm actually writing for ghost, yes he was the reason i got into cod, but i havent thought about him since like january lol. has this trope already been done? yes. am i doing it anyway? also yes.

pairing: ghost x gn!reader

wc: 2.2k

no use of y/n readers callsign is 'stingray'

summary: if there's one constant in your life, it's that ghost doesn't like you, so when your house burns down and you have no choice but to move in with him, it feels like your life is on a steady downhill spiral.

warnings: slowburn, some angst, your house burns down, ghost is mean, sort of enemies to friends to lovers

ao3

【next】

it's been almost a year since you'd joined the taskforce. nearly twelve months of gruelling hard work, and not for a single second had lieutenant ghost treated you with a shred of familiarity. at first, you thought he'd get over it, that he'd get past his obvious trust issues and warm up to you eventually, but you quickly gave up on that idea.

clearly, you'd been too optimistic.

which was unfortunate, considering how much you'd come to care for the prickly bastard, no matter how dismissive he was of you. it started slow; when you were first recruited, you held a great deal of respect for him because of his reputation, and you'd naively even looked forward to working with him. when you discovered his less than friendly demeanour, to say you were disheartened would be an understatement. he was withdrawn and stoic, never sparing you so much as a passing glance and a barked order, whether you were in the field or not.

the other sergeants had assured you that he wasn't as cold as he comes across; soap and gaz both told you how he'd acted the same towards them when they first met – he was a lone wolf, not used to having to look out for teammates.

the more time you spent on missions with him, the more you saw of the person beneath the hard exterior. you saw how he seemed to know everyone's strengths and weaknesses, things you never would've picked up on. he always made sure the team had eaten, disguised as a gruff order to stay on your game. when he got angry, it would be because someone put themselves in danger, not because they screwed up the mission. you saw someone who'd been through hell and come out the other side swinging.

before, you'd respected ghost as a soldier and your superior, but now, after spending so much time with him, your perspective of him has changed. he intrigued you; he's quiet, introverted but not shy, more observant than you could imagine, and so closely guarded you wondered if he'd ever be able to open up. you'd only heard whispers of the things he'd been through in the past, so despite his obvious animosity towards you, you treated him with the respect you thought he deserved – like a person, and you'd hoped that with time, he could see you as more than just a soldier too. though he still didn't like you, you liked to think that the two of you have come to some sort of understanding.

and that leads you to your problem; you wanted to know him. every tiny crack in his facade made you more and more curious about the man behind the mask – about simon, rather than ghost, but from what you could tell, he didn't hold the same sentiment about you. where he would banter back and forth with the others over comms, he'd fall silent whenever you join in. every minute little mistake was amplified to him, you've lost count of the amount of times he's berated you for things he's excused for others. it made your heart ache that you just couldn't win with him, and you feared you'd never understand why.

but now, as you sit shivering with a shock blanket wrapped around your shoulders, watching the smouldering remains of what was your home in the middle of the night, freezing and exhausted, you'd never felt more hated.

you could hear them, ghost and the captain, talking in hushed voices a little ways down the road from where you sit. they probably think they're being subtle, discussing what to do with you like you're not even there, like every single one of your worldly possessions hadn't just gone up in smoke, but you hear them as if they're standing right in front of you.

"i wouldn't do this if there were any other options, simon."

"there are plenty of other options, just stick 'em in a hotel for god's sake."

"there's no hotels close enough to base – it'll only be temporary, 'till we can find 'em somewhere else."

"fuckin' hell, why cant they go with one of the others?"

"soap and gaz are already flatmates, you live alone and you're the closest to base. this is the only option that makes sense."

"i'm not fuckin' happy about this, price."

their profiles are momentarily illuminated by the blue lights from the fire engine parked nearby, allowing you for a second to see the withering glare ghost is sending your way, and all of a sudden the last couple hours of emotional distress is crashing down on you; his obvious distaste for you combined with the toll of watching your house literally burning down was too much for you all at once. you could feel the tears start to spill over again, but you can’t find the strength to stop them and just bring the shock blanket closer to your face. you’d lost everything, and even now he couldn’t find it in himself to feel an ounce of compassion for you? why can’t he care for you like he does the others? like you do for him?

as your watery gaze drops to the soot and ash covering your pyjamas, a voice sounds from beside you, the opposite direction from price and ghost. you don’t even realise you’re hyperventilating until they lay a hand on your shoulder and rub soothing circles into your back.

“hey– hey, it’s okay,” it’s gaz, you notice in the back of your mind, sitting on the curb next to you. you squeeze your eyes shut in an attempt to block out the world around you, and gaz brings you closer into his embrace. “you’ll be alright, we’ll get everything sorted, yeah?”

"i– i don't– i can't–" you try to speak, but you can't seem to form a coherent sentence through your sobbing.

"it's alright, just breathe for me." gaz hugs you tighter again, your head coming to rest on his shoulder as he consoles you. for a few minutes you stay like that, your breathing eventuslly returning to normal and the tears slowing to a stop.

price and ghost are still arguing, but you can't hear what they're saying anymore; probably for the best, if you had to listen to ghost complain about you for one more second you might really have a breakdown.

soap's voice cuts through the fog in your mind, "managed to find this, thought ya' might want it." you look up to find him crouching in front of you and holding out a slightly singed photo, a weak smile on his face. "frame's broken, but the picture's still mostly fine."

you take it from him, fingers grasping the card gently as you turn it around to look at the picture. it's from a few years ago, you and your friends from your previous unit, smiling into the camera as if you had no worries at all. staring at the ghosts of your friends starts you crying again, clutching the photo to your chest and leaning back into gaz's shoulder. if anything could've survived the blaze, you're grateful it was this. gaz rubs your arm sofly, whispering comforting words to you again.

you hear another set of footsteps approach and look up again to see price now standing in front of you as well. it's not exactly surprising, but ghost is nowhere to be seen.

"ambulance is here," price says, offering you a hand and pulling you to your feet when you take it. "i'll follow behind to the hospital, one of you two take their car to simon's."

you nod and retrieve your car keys from your jacket pocket, thankful you'd had the mind to grab it on your way out in your frantic state.

"I've got a bag in the boot, it's got some clothes in it." you mutter, handing the keys to soap, who smiles and gives you a pat on the shoulder.

"no bother, i'll grab it for ya." he says, and jogs off to where your car was parked, thankfully untouched out of reach of the fire. he returns not a minute layer carrying your duffle of emergency supplies, something you never thought would actually come in handy.

before you know it you're waving gaz and soap goodbye, the paramedics are guiding you to the back of the ambulance, and you're leaving what remains of your old home in the rear-view mirror.

✹✹✹

you hated hospitals. it was a fact, and it had been that way since you were a child, everything about them just made your skin crawl. perhaps you inherited the feeling from your mother; she always managed to bring up her distaste for the place whenever the topic arose. or, maybe you only hated them because they scared you.

either way, the relief you felt as you stepped out of the front door into the car park with price trailing behind you was palpable. he falls into step next to you as the two of you make your way over to where he parked, his keys jingling as he fishes them from his pocket.

"we're puttin' you up with simon for the time being, 'till we can get you somewhere else." his words make you wince; you already knew he was going to say that, but it didn't stop the anxiety from bubbling up in your chest.

"i heard." a beat of silence passes before you continue. "how long will that take?" you ask, climbing into the passenger seat and dropping your bag at your feet as price settles into the driver's side.

"i wouldn't get your hopes up. might be quicker to wait for 'em to rebuild your old place." he flashes you a smile, but you can't find it in yourself to return the gesture.

"right."

neither of you say another word as he starts the engine and pulls out of the car park. you turn to look out the window, watching the world go by, the quiet rambling of the radio serving as white noise in the background. it's the early hours of the morning now, the sun would be up in a few hours and you'd have to go back to work already – price did say you could have the day off, but honestly the last thing you wanted was to sit around all day with nothing to do but overthink.

after nearly ten minutes of trying to ignore it, the worry playing at your mind becomes too much to keep to yourself.

"you know he hates me, right?" you utter, half expecting price to ignore your question all together.

he clicks his tongue. "he doesn't hate you," price replies, and his voice sounds reassuring but it doesn't bring you much comfort.

"okay, well, he doesn't like me either." you turn your head to look at him, raising your brows. rolling to a stop at a red light, he meets your eyes and huffs.

"alright, he can be difficult–"

"really?"

"–but i promise you, he doesn't hate you." he says. you give him a disbelieving look, and he sighs, looking back to the road as the light turns green. "give him a chance, alright?"

"is he gonna give me a chance?"

"he will." price says firmly, sparing you a look as he drives down the quiet road. "and if he doesn't, you'll knock some sense into him, eh?"

"sure…" you mutter, looking back out the window and falling back into silence. its only a few minutes until he's pulling over to the side of the road, outside the house number you know to be ghost's.

"sting," price calls out, stopping you as you reach for the door handle, "he'll come around, alright?"

"it's been a year, cap. i don't think he will." you reply, and before he can say anything else you open the door and step out into the night air, grabbing your bag from your feet before closing the door again. you give price a half-hearted wave as he pulls away again, before turning around and gazing up at your – temporary – new home.

it was nice, all things considered; a standard terrace on the end of the row, but the size has you wondering if there was even room for you to stay here. though it's not as if you have a choice. all the lights were off, which had you hopeful that you wouldn't run into ghost just yet.

you drag yourself to the front door, your eyes stinging from the effort of keeping them open, and twist the handle as quietly as possible, closing it behind you and cringing at the clunk it makes. thankfully ghost didn't hate you enough to lock you out for the night, something you actually wouldn't put past him considering how he feels about you.

there's a small side table in the entryway that catches your attention. on top of it sits your car keys – you make a mental note to thank soap in the morning – a new key, and a note. you pick up the paper, using the torch from your phone to examine the scratchy handwriting.

living room's yours. lock the door. – s

it's more than you expected from him. you sigh to yourself and pick up the other key, locking the door and shuffling into the small living room. the pull-out bed is made up for you, albeit quite messily, and you waste no time in dropping your stuff and laying your head down on the lumpy pillow.

with any luck, this arrangement wouldn't last long, but in the meantime you got the feeling you were in for a bumpy ride.

#ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #mw2 x reader #cod x reader #141 x reader #call of duty x reader #mw2 #cod mw2 #call of duty #simon ghost riley #mw2 ghost #roosterr writes #praying that hes not ooc

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prodagustd · 4 months

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the road not taken 03 | myg

part three: four seconds

Summary: If you wanted to stop thinking about Yoongi, the first step was as easy as stop seeing him, but why it seemed like he was following everywhere you went?

—pairing: lawyer!yoongi x actress oc

—rating: +18

—genre: brother's best friend, one sided pinning (or both?)

—warnings/tags: slow burn,angst, fluff, eventual smut, angst, sexual tension!!!!! flashbacks, ANGST!! Btw english is not my first language !!

—words: 11k

—a/note: HERE IT ISSSSSSSS!!! I'm sosososos sorry for taking so long, but it is finally here!! I swear I will try and update monthly from now on, but enjoy this for now!! It has a lot of backstory so I hope you enjoy it. btw these last months I've been going to a poetry workshop so I was on fire writing this (ok maybe not since I took so long to finish it lmao). As always feedback is always welcomed, and if you want to discuss this part in the asks you're welcomed as well!! ilyyyy

series masterlist | teaser | playlist

Present

When Yoongi turned thirteen, your mother promised to bake a Batman cake as a gift for his birthday party. You had a clear memory of sitting at the counter the day before the party as she decorated the cake with yellow icing that tasted like just like bananas, and the next day when Yoongi gave you the first piece of cake you remembered thinking it was the best thing you’ve ever tasted. A few years ago, when Yoongi turned twenty three, you asked him if he remembered the taste of that cake, and, as he smoked what he swore it would be the last cigarette of his life, he said that he did not. At that time you asked him how it was possible that he didn’t remember the taste of some cake your mom made ten years ago, how was it possible that information of such importance had gone unnoticed? Looking back, you could say that it was not Yoongi’s fault, maybe you were the only one holding onto memories and he was as forgetful as everyone else. After all, Yoongi forgot he promised he would quit smoking that very same night, he would smoke his last cigarette only a year later, but even to this day you couldn’t forget the taste of that cake.

You were just beginning to realize you were condemned to be one of those people who just remembered. Like your aunt, who knew all the birthdays and all the deathdays, all your cousins’ first words, including yours, and was often caught reminiscing every detail of the day she met her husband thirty springs ago. Maybe it was in the family, and it was only a matter of time until you started speaking memories instead of words, so you tried to stop it, but they lived in your mind regardless if you decided to stop mentioning them out loud or not.

Like the perfume of your granddad that he only wore on Christmas, or the way blood and tears tasted the day you broke your teeth when you were eight and tried to play basketball with Yoongi and Simon but tripped. You sobbed like a baby, but Yoongi hugged you so tight that you forgot you were going to be toothless for the following month.

You collected the memories, the words, the smell and the taste, you held them close to your heart, stuck in your chest with a stake, forced to remember everything while everyone around you just forgot. And you didn’t complain, you couldn’t, why would you? Life was like that, happening in front of you as you stood in front of the body length mirror in your mother’s room, as you closed your eyes and tried to remember the yellow icing in Yoongi’s birthday cake, it happened in front of you as you tried to avoid it. You knew you had to stop lingering in the past when all those details, all those colors, and all those memories began to turn against you. Like every January, when your mind reminded you that your body was still stuck in the freezing cold of the morning you decided to leave home four years ago.

That morning, when you decided to go see Yoongi five days into the new year because he had barely texted you since the last day you saw him, January 2nd, when he received the news from his aunt that his mother had an accident during their trip. You walked to his apartment instead of driving because you didn’t think it was that cold, but you were immediately proven wrong when your hands started to get frozen and your feet began to hurt as you walked in the snow, but that didn’t stop you. He said he was going to be home for a second to grab some stuff and then come back to the hospital, where his mom was, so you were expecting the look of surprise on his face when he saw you at the door, what you weren’t expecting was the way he was hesitating to let you in. You remembered the things he did and the things he said that day like they were engraved in your memory, but mostly the way he was looking at you, like he wanted to run away, from you? from his life? You still didn’t know, all you knew is that after that you had no other option than to turn around and walk away.

When you thought about it for too long you could still feel the way the snow lingered all the way home in your clothes and hair, how it stayed on the sole of your shoes for the following years, how your tears froze in your cheeks because you refused to wipe them away. Sometimes you woke up in the middle of the night and could still feel the snow running down your back, making you wonder if winter was still chasing you.

Inside your body it had been winter for so long that your heart seemed to be completely frozen ever since you left home, only now that you were back you realized that perhaps autumn was not warm enough to heal your heart.

That was not the last time you saw Yoongi, but you believed it was the last time you decided to talk to him, the last time you allowed yourself to even lay eyes on him.

You wished you could find peace for at least a moment, but it seemed that you had to work hard for it, it was getting tiring to remember that you were the one who caused the chaos that was your life, and now you were the one who had to fix it: your mother, your brother, Ian and Sally, and even your public image. Doing the last button of your white shirt you asked the universe: why couldn’t those be all your problems? You swore to the man in the sky that if he sent you all your problems in the form of a giant monster you were willing to fight it, only if he could stop you from seeing Yoongi tonight.

Perhaps you should stay in your mom’s room tonight, not attending dinner was okay, your mom made that clear, but at the same time you were twenty five years old now, you couldn’t keep acting like an angry teenager who decided to skip dinner. You knew that it wasn’t going to make things better, but at least seeing your brother was going to make you feel normal, and that was the only reason you decided to set foot outside the room when you heard the bell ring.

Four years ago.

Two weeks before New Year’s Eve.

You should’ve known that it would be useless to stop thinking about what happened a week ago the minute you woke up in the same bed as Yoongi, but you still tried. You tried, and tried, and tried in countless ways, like for example, when you tried to watch a whole season of The Office in one sitting, or when you listened your mom rant about some turkish drama she was watching, or when Minnie texted a few days ago and you let her talk about that job she mentioned that night until you fell asleep. And then, you agreed to meet her for a coffee and she talked non stop about the same open audition four hours away in the city.

You were not sure if she was beginning to convince you or you were just desperately trying to stop thinking about Yoongi, you thought the only logical explanation for both theories was that you were about to go crazy.

But if you were being honest to yourself, you couldn’t help but be interested in it. Minnie pitched the job like a gothic dramatic love story, which sounded just like something you would love. She also said it wasn’t a super big play, but it wasn’t small either, and it was pretty well paid. Minnie mentioned she knew the producers and the director and could put on a good word for you.

“Why don’t you do it, then?” You had asked her, not being sure if you would do the same thing for someone who didn’t talk to you in years. “And why me?”

“Oh, well, I don’t know if it’s my style and… I’m not sure if I’m ready to leave home yet.” She replied with a nostalgic tone in her voice. “And why not you? I don’t know anyone who can pull it off, and you appeared in front of my eyes. Must be a sign.”

You couldn’t understand the first thing, how adamant she was to stay here, as much as you tried to see the world through her eyes, you couldn’t, a few years ago you took the first chance to get out of here and didn’t look back. But sitting there, at the small table next to the window, it wasn’t difficult to tell which one of you two looked more happy (hint: it wasn’t you). Minnie was different, she was still working at The Alley, she loved it there and wasn’t willing to let it go yet.

The second thing, you couldn’t understand either, but it made sense for her to do it. Being kind was natural for Minnie, she didn’t hold grudges, and you weren’t sure if you deserved that kindness. She waved away all your concerns, your whens and whys and hows, she kept repeating the same words; “it must be a sign”, “it’s clearly meant to be”, and you just laughed and tried to not to think about Yoongi. And it worked for a while, because on the way home you allowed yourself to fantasize about it for at least ten minutes. Moving to the city and working there for weeks and weeks and maybe months or years, and not having to pretend you were someone else. But the minute you entered your house you were reminded of what you were trying to forget.

The memory kept sneaking in your mind, just like Yoongi sneaked in your bed that night. The image of his hooded eyes, his pink lips and the reminder that nothing really happened kept wandering inside your head.

That night you entered the house giggling like babies and when both of you were changed and ready to sleep you got under the covers, not thinking whether it was right or wrong. And yes, your bed was big enough for you and him, but your arms and legs still slightly touched during the whole night, and when you woke up your feet where tangled with each other, leaving you wondering if you were stupid for thinking something had changed between the two of you, or maybe the way he looked at you when he opened his eyes was just your twisted imagination.

Yes, you were probably crazy when you thought he was looking at you differently when you made him breakfast, like you promised. You were crazy for thinking it felt like you were in a different universe when you sat in the kitchen island the whole morning and then found Nightmare Before Christmas on tv and discussed if it was a Christmas or a Hallowen movie on the couch.

And then, of course, he left, bringing you back to reality. But then during the week he came back, and then left again, and came back again. You knew you had to kick him out, you knew it was for the best to make up an excuse and say you were busy, but this time he promised to get your car repaired, so you let him take you to his uncle’s garage.

Yoongi’s uncle was nowhere to be found today, but Namjoon, Yoongi’s friend, was in charge, although he wasn’t very happy with people being loud while he was working. By the time Namjoon established he didn’t want any of you there at the garage, you had already decided you were staying.

You knew Namjoon ever since he started working with Yoongi’s uncle, he was a tall and big guy with a shy smile, he wore glasses and read books, he was funny and smart and you knew that he had more more than one girl waiting for him to text them back, and for some reason, despite being really handsome, and really cute, and really tall… he was still single. Not that you cared, of course, you were interested in… other people…You still allowed yourself to admire him, like when you watched that Turkish drama with your mom because you were trying not to think of Yoongi and the lead actor helped a lot with it.

Now you were there, sitting on top of some dirty table next to a bunch of tools you couldn’t name, trying to keep silent when Namjoon scolded you again.

Yoongi was very good at ignoring him, he pretended he didn’t listen to his friend as he leaned towards you, talking really close to your ear. “Should I give your grandma a Christmas present?” He asked, half joking, half serious. “You know, so she’s in a good mood.”

You turned to him, raising an eyebrow. “A bottle of klonopin, maybe.” You said, making Namjoon scoff loudly.

He turned around, now interested in the conversation, looking at you both. “Why do you want to give her grandma a Christmas present?” He asked, confused. One of the reasons why Namjoon didn’t like people talking while he was working was because he was easily distracted, when he was interested in the topic he didn’t seem too annoyed.

Yoongi turned around to face him, deciding his friend was there all of a sudden. “I’m spending Christmas with her family next week.” He explained, being kind enough to forget that Namjoon explicitly told him to shut the fuck up about twenty minutes ago. “But she’s a bit moody.”

That was one way to describe your grandmother, the other one was to say she was a complete witch.

“Yeah, Yoongi invited himself.” You teased him, instantly feeling one of his fingers digging into your rib, making you jump.

Namjoon quietly observed the scene like something he wasn’t supposed to watch, with his mouth hung open ready to say something, but his mind was still searching for words. You suspected that Yoongi’s answer left him with more doubts that he had to begin with.

“Really?” He managed to say, curious. “I didn’t know you two were… like that.” Namjoon cautiously started the sentence, but didn’t dare to finish it in case he was wrong, although the scene you were making was clearly making him believe he was right.

You jumped in your seat, opening your eyes widely as you understood what he was implying. “Oh, no.” You rushed to say, waving your hands in the air.

“No, not like that.” Yoongi talked at the same time as you, crossing looks as if you were reassuring each other of it. His eyes were as open as yours, shaking his head trying to deny the accusation. “My mom is not here until the first week of January.” He explained, making Namjoon nod, still confused at your nervous reactions. “So I’m alone at Christmas.”

Yoongi looked at you, giving a look that meant “it makes sense, right?” and yes, of course it made sense. You and Yoongi had spent Christmas together before, he knew your whole family since he was a kid, he grew up with Simon, he was family too, it made sense, but Namjoon’s implication made both of you jump in your seats, talking over each other as you laughed nervously.

“So all of you three are spending Christmas together?” Namjoon continued to ask, trying to understand the conversation again. “You two and Simon?”

There was a beat of silence in the room, but you were quick to answer. “Simon is spending Christmas with his girlfriend, so we're on our own.”

Namjoon nodded again, trying not to think too much about it. “So Simon is okay with you keeping all his gifts?” He tried to joke, but the answer only sounded worse.

You looked at Yoongi, but he was looking at his shoes, avoiding Namjoon’s eyes. Neither of you bothered to mention to Simon that you were spending Christmas together, was it really necessary? Why was Namjoon making it sound like it was necessary for him to know? Why did you feel the need to explain to him that it wasn’t weird at all that you were spending Christmas together alone? You weren’t alone after all, there was your mom, and your grandmother, your aunt and some of your cousins too, I mean, you’ll have to share the room, of course, but- wait… You had to share the room. You forgot about that.

Oh my God… Simon couldn’t find out about that.

You were quick to suppress the thought, agreeing with yourself to handle that matter later, but right now Namjoon was looking at you like he expected an answer. You quickly realized that Namjoon was just as noisy as you.

“Oh, he doesn’t need to know.” You said, brushing it off, but your mind was already in chaos.

Present

You were never really interested in astrology, you tried to get into it a few years ago only to understand what Minnie was saying since she talked about it most of the time, but you ended up being too skeptical to believe in anything. You didn’t believe in God, or in astrology and you weren’t even sure if you could call yourself an atheist completely, but you were still curious. Early in life you realized you were agnostic, (you were aware that you sounded like a pretentious man on a first date when you said it out loud), but you still asked every person you met their star signs in case they matched with their personalities, as if you were still trying to prove yourself wrong.

You didn’t know if the universe was right or wrong, but if you were sure about something, it was that Simon was a Leo. Not only because he was born on the first of August, but because he fitted in every category of a Leo. He was charming and confident, outgoing, he was a natural leader and people always felt drawn to him, making him a little bit… self centered.

Like every other Leo, Simon loved his birthday, that was the only reason why you were thinking about it. Two months ago, the first of August, you called him on his birthday like every sister calls her brother on his birthday. You could’ve just sent a message like the past year, but your life was already beginning to feel suffocating. Talking to Simon seemed to ease your heart for a while. He wanted to talk to you about his job at the firm and his girlfriend, the cat they adopted, how they were planning to move to a bigger apartment the following year and asked when you thought it was a great time to propose. You needed to feel like something was in place, like your relationship with Simon was normal, like he could tell you anything and you could listen and just laugh. It worked for the first ten minutes, until he inevitably brought up the topic of his birthday party, and he inevitably invited you, and you inevitably had to say no.

You missed Simon, you missed your mom, you missed your bed and your home, but you weren’t ready to come back, you weren’t ready to see the thousand faces you left behind, you were still hesitant to come back. Now you were there, tense at the end of the stairs because the disappointed tone on his voice lingered in your mind to this day.

Some voice in your head was telling you that it was what adults do, take responsibility for their actions, seeing people even if you preferred not to see them because that was what grown ups do. You were supposed to be an adult of twenty five years old, even if you felt like you never grew out of that bitter phase only teenagers go through, you were still an adult, so why did you feel like a kid at the end of the stairs, waiting for Simon to lay eyes on you?

Your mom hugged him tightly like she hadn’t seen him in months, and when he pulled away from her grip he noticed you, coming down the stairs as you realized that he, like your mom, wasn’t expecting to see you today.

Simon frowned, surprised, but just a second later a smile took over his face “Hey, you.” He said, opening his wide arms, offering you a hug. “What are you doing here?”

You took a deep breath, almost turning around to check if he was talking to another person behind you, but no, he was talking to you. He grabbed your wrists, pulling you closer to hug you the same way your mom was hugging him a moment ago. “Is this not my house?” You murmured against the fabric of his blue sweater, feeling your heart hammering against your ribcage as you tried to make a joke.

“Of course it is.” He just said, leaving a kiss on your hair.

Four years ago.

Two weeks before New Year’s Eve.

If you wanted to stop thinking about Yoongi, the first step was as easy as stop seeing him, because your mind was not helping at all.

After leaving his uncle’s garage you should’ve gone home to start thinking a way of telling Yoongi that he couldn’t sleep in the same bedroom as you on Christmas, you needed to think of an excuse for why he should sleep in your grandma’s one thousand year old couch instead of Simon’s empty bed, which was casually right next to yours.

The following step should be to watch some romcom with Heath Ledger and try to forget the way Yoongi rolled up his sleeves when he was pretending to help Namjoon with your car, or at least the way you stared like an idiot for a good moment before snapping out of it.

He should’ve gone home too, he had no business walking in the same direction as you if his apartment was towards the other end of the street. It didn’t take you long to realize he was following you “for some coffee, since we’re cold”, as he said, already assuming that you didn’t have any plans (he wasn’t wrong).

You didn’t want to chase him away, you were still working on that thing of not being a bitch, and while there was a rational part of you that knew that you were better off not seeing Yoongi, there also was a part of you who couldn’t get enough of him. A better explanation was that you might be a masochist.

The garage wasn’t far from home, but you were walking fast as if you were trying to lose him in the way.

“Is Namjoon still single?” You wondered out loud, trying to redirect your thoughts somewhere far away from him. At least for now it didn’t seem that difficult, you remembered the sweet smile of Yoongi’s friend and the way he lifted his glasses with his finger up to the bridge of his nose. Was he really shy or was he just faking it so girls thought he was cute? Either way, it was working.

“What?” Yoongi raised his voice, frowning at you.

You frowned back at him “I asked if Namjoon is still single.” You repeated, but you were sure he heard it right. “How come he’s still single?”

The wind hit your face, so you made yourself small in your jacket, scanning the street for any cars before crossing in the middle of the street. Yoongi followed you without hesitation, running to the other side of the street before you left him behind.

“Why…?” He yelled, trying to catch up with you, but when he was next to you he lowered his voice “Why do you care?”

The question sounded strange coming out of his lips, but you ignored his tone, turning your head. “I’m curious.” You just said, but he still couldn't shake the strange look on his face. “What?” You pushed his shoulder “Don’t look at me that way.”

“I’m not looking at you in any way.” He defended himself.

He was clearly looking at you in some way, you just didn’t know which. You winced, trying to brush it off “I’m just asking…” You murmured “He’s really cute, don’t you think? He works at the garage, he wears glasses, he’s got cute dimples. How is he still single?”

“It seems like you gave him a good look.” He mumbled under his breath, taking his eyes off you.

“I’m just a very observant girl.” You argued. “C’mon, you didn’t think about it? I’ve never seen Namjoon with a girl…” You kept wondering, staying silent as Yoongi, for some reason, refused to keep this conversation going. You still didn’t know how Simon and Yoongi were such good friends, Simon always knew everything about everyone, how was it possible that Yoongi refused to even discuss the reason for Namjoon's long singleness? Or maybe Yoongi was keeping the reason as a secret, maybe it was something no one was supposed to know. Suddenly, you connected two and two together, interpreting Yoongi’s reluctance in the most logical way. You gasped “Oh! Or is he…?”

Yoongi rolled his eyes, making a sound of annoyance when he realized you were still talking about the same thing. “No, he’s not gay, Pinky.” He sighed “He’s just not into dating.”

You turned the corner of the street, making Yoongi follow you. “Like my brother?” You asked, remember how everyone said the same thing about Simon.

He snorted “No, not like your brother.” He said “Simon was a mess… Namjoon is just a shy guy.”

You arched an eyebrow. That was the lamest excuse ever, it wasn’t enough explanation for you. Maybe Yoongi was right and Namjoon was just-a-shy-guy, or maybe Yoongi didn’t know the real reason why he has been single for years because men never communicate their feelings with each other, maybe Namjoon was dating his first love for years until she broke her heart, making him never want to date again, or maybe…

“Stop.” He said, interrupting your train of thought. Now it was his turn to push your shoulder “Don’t even think about it.”

He gave you a warning look, which made you confused for a moment… Wait, what was he thinking? Did Yoongi confuse your nosiness for something else? Did something that you said made him think your intentions were different? … Was he really thinking you were interested in Namjoon?

You pursed your lips, trying to contain your laugh. You could explain to Yoongi that he misunderstood you and deny every accusation, but something inside you told you that the current scenario was more fun.

“I’m not thinking about anything.” You said, faking innocence, and even if you really weren't he looked at you like he didn’t believe you.

“Yeah, right.” He huffed “Didn’t sound like that.”

“Really? How did it sound, then?” You teased him “Enlighten me.”

Yoongi did not say another word after that, refusing to follow your game. You've known him for longer than you could remember —literally, he said he remembered meeting you when he was four and Simon invited him into the house so he could meet his new baby sister, but you had no recall of it—, even so, you had no memory of him ever being mad at you, not even slightly annoyed, so you were a bit confused when his expression remained serious for the rest of the walk home. Was it so bad to show interest in Namjoon?

“Don’t even think about it.” What did that even mean?

Present

You were trying to avoid the memory of Ian’s proposal for weeks now. It was painted in your mind, the excited look on his face, his mom’s ring on his hand, the flowers, the cool white lights, the ringing in your ears that warned you something was wrong. You remembered wondering if he knew that you read all those texts he sent to other women, if he knew how ridiculous everything looked. It still made you cringe when you accidently thought about it. Did he really think you were the same as him?… Weren’t you different?

Despite being the most embarrassing moment of your life to date, you weren’t trying to hide it, you were planning to tell your family about it when the time was right. Like tonight, for example. You thought you could talk to them about it, that you could have time to explain everything, to apologize for not saying anything, maybe for a couple other things too… But your plan was ruined the moment your mom told you she had planned a dinner in your absence on the same day you arrived.

Now Simon was looking at you like you were thirteen and you got your heart broken for the first time. He rested his elbows on the table you and him just set, sighing. You were aware that the rest of the guests were on their way, but you tried to ignore it. It wasn’t that difficult since Simon’s thoughts were echoing in the room, making you shift in your seat. Of course Simon already knew about it, you were sure he already read it in some tabloid before you got the chance to tell him first.

“Stop doing that.” You said, breaking the silence. He didn’t seem surprised, but still narrowed his eyes, trying to play dumb.

“Doing what?”

You weren’t sure what he was doing exactly, maybe you were just imagining the way he was looking at you: with pity, but it was annoying you, and he knew that, perhaps it was the reaction he was expecting from you. He was laughing five minutes ago, making fun of you when he saw you trip on the step of the entrance to the kitchen like nothing changed between the two of you, but now he was sitting in silence as if he was preparing you to ask you the question.

You wished Florence, Simon’s girlfriend, were here. She would fill the uncomfortable silences with gossip about the neighbors and ignore the elephant in the room. She was away visiting her family, so instead you were there with him as he tried to play the big brother role, but failed terribly.

“Are you going to ask me about it?” You asked, not hesitating.

Simon let your question linger in the air, pretending you didn’t just read his mind. There were only a few people you could say you knew like the palm of your hand, one of them was your brother. Even if you spent years separated, you’ve always been as thick as thieves, you still saw right through Simon, and the only problem with that was that he saw right through you as well.

“Are you going to tell the truth?” He calmly asked, enjoying the look on your face when he heard you gasp, offended.

It hurt to know how implicit it was that you hadn’t been honest these past years, it was easy to catch you off guard. While you were out in the world, away from your family, Simon stayed here and visited your mom every sunday and tried to ignore the fact that you didn’t answer any of their messages that week, saying that you were busy working when you really were trying to avoid invitations for the next weekend. It was obvious that Simon was the one that spent more time with your mom, you thought about that the second he used the same tone as her when she was scolding you.

You crossed your arms over your chest, frowning “Maybe, I can think about it.” You said in the same tone as him. Simon just scoffed, shaking his head.

“Fine. That was too much to ask for, I guess.” He snarked, mocking you “I have a simpler question… are you okay?”

Despite his attempt to appear casual and keep bickering, his concern was evident. That question could have felt like a caress to the soul, a sigh of relief, the feeling of home, but instead it felt like Simon had punched you in the stomach, leaving you without air. How easy it was to fight with Simon, how easy would’ve been for you if he didn’t hug you when he saw you thirty minutes ago. It would’ve been less difficult than witnessing his blue eyes showing you mercy. It was clear that he cared for you, but you weren't sure if you deserved it, not from him of all people.

“Simon…” You murmured, shaking your head. It was an easy question, but difficult to answer knowing this wasn’t the right moment, this wasn’t how you planned things.

“What?” He questioned, reading your mind “I’m not asking you just because I have to, I’m not waiting for you to lie to me and tell me that you’re alright so I can forget about it, I care.”

“I know you care.” You breathed out “It’s just…” You sighed, vacillating “Listen… I haven’t- I’m not okay, really… But I can manage. I just feel like this is not the right moment to talk about it.” You looked at the entrance of the door and his sorry eyes followed, understanding what you meant. Simon nodded, but he didn’t stop looking at you like you were a wounded animal.

“That’s fine, I understand.” He murmured “That’s what I wanted to know. I was just wondering if you were going to be okay tonight.”

“I’ll be fine, as long as I don’t have to talk about myself. We’ll have time for that” You assured him.

“Are you sure?” He continued to question, doubting you.

You squinted your eyes “Yes, I'm sure, Simon.” You said, annoyed, even if you couldn’t blame him for not trusting your word. “I’m not planning to run away.”

“Not again?” He tried to joke, but you didn’t dare to laugh.

“I assure you, not again.” You rolled your eyes, hating that that was the image your brother had of you, hating to know that he was right. “You can stop looking at me like I’m a lost puppy now, I’m not a lost puppy.”

He scoffed “Are you not a lost puppy?” He asked “Where are you sleeping tonight?”

You frowned, offended “Here, of course… I mean, on the couch probably, but here.” You tried to defend yourself, but you immediately realized that your room was still a mess, and instead of cleaning a bit before dinner, you spent the whole afternoon sleeping.

His lips curved into a mocking smile, knowing that there wasn’t much difference between you and a lost puppy. “You can sleep at mine.” He offered.

“I wasn’t asking” You resisted, too proud to say yes right away.

“I know.” He said, and he shushed you to stop you from talking, pretending that it was the end of the discussion.

You shook your head, trying to reject those kind gestures you didn’t deserve. You opened your mouth, willing to keep arguing with your brother until you heard the bell ringing for the second time this evening, making you almost jump in your seat.

Your mom yelled from the kitchen, announcing that she was getting the door followed by the sound of her noisy shoes making their way to the door. It happened in a matter of seconds, you heard your mom rushing to the hall and opening the door, you heard muffled sounds, mixed voices, your mom greeting the guests while you waited on your chair as Simon turned his head over his shoulder, expectantly observing the entrance of the dining room.

Then, you heard steps approaching, laughter and chatter, but something else was happening in your head, something that was restricting you from hearing clearly —from thinking clearly—.

You fixed your eyes on the door, wishing no one appeared for as long as they could delay the arrival, but soon your field of vision was occupied by a short woman with curly hair and pearls in her ears. Nari, Yoongi’s mom, watched her step while she supported herself with a cane as she entered the room. Nari was just a few years older than your mom, but since the accident four years ago it has been difficult for her to walk without help, that’s why you and your brother both stood up at the same time to help her get to a seat faster.

The sound of both of your chairs being pushed back and your brother’s rushed steps filled the room. Simon was quicker than you, he approached Nari, smiling and saying hello as he grabbed one of her hands to help her find a seat.

You were not hearing anything clearly, but you were sure that Nari was complaining and telling Simon that she did not need any help, but he ignored her as he asked for her coat so he could hang it on the coat rack next to the door.

You felt clumsy, awkwardly standing in the middle of the room, unsure of what to do with yourself for the next four seconds. Four seconds that could’ve been four years, because when you lifted your gaze you realized you were standing face to face with Yoongi. An older Yoongi, a Yoongi you haven’t seen before, even if you didn’t remember when was the last time you dared to look him in the eyes, you were sure that back then he looked very different than tonight. His hair was longer, it was pushed back like he ran his finger through it, he was dressed like he just got home from work, a white dress shirt, slacks and a long black winter coat. He was dressed like an adult, a version of him that you never met and maybe never will. His gaze met yours the same way everything met you: by accident. He was not expecting to see you tonight, you knew that, now he was looking at you the same way you were looking at him, like he saw a ghost, maybe you were, maybe he was.

Yoongi opened his mouth to say something, and you had exactly one second to prepare for what he was about to say next, but you didn’t.

“Oh, Pinky.” Two words escaped his lips, tripping over each other as surprise and regret took over his features. He immediately realized he said something he wasn’t supposed to, but you still couldn’t hear clearly, you weren’t sure if you heard that right.

The nickname sent a chill down your spine, you couldn’t answer to it, and he knew it. It was like he said some forbidden word to make you freeze in your place. You couldn’t help but feel like the dumbest person on earth.

You had been thinking the whole afternoon about it, trying to think of ways of looking unbothered when Yoongi showed up tonight, but it took one stupid word for you to stop functioning normally. You wanted to say something, say hi to him and forget that he even dared to call you like that, but you refused to do it.

“Sweetheart! What are you doing here?” Suddenly, your ears were working again. Nari’s high pitched voice snapped you out of your trance, making you look away from her son’s face. It was like she didn’t notice your presence until Yoongi called you by that stupid nickname “I didn’t know you were coming!”

She attempted to stand up again, but you rushed to meet her so she wouldn’t move from her chair to let her pull you into a tight embrace. You took advantage of it, there were no more places to hide in this house, not your mom’s room or behind your brother, so you closed your eyes, hugging her back.

It was only then when you realized how much you missed being hugged like that, you remembered how much you missed such affection. Especially from her, who was always so loving to you, it was a shame that you couldn’t look her son in the eyes.

You shook those thoughts away, acting like his presence didn’t affect you. “I told my mom!” You explained “But she forgot, can you believe it?”

“She should've told me.” She said, pulling away to cup your face in her hands “I haven’t seen you in so long, angel, you look beautiful!”

“Not as much as you do, Nari, are you wearing makeup?” You tried to joke, making her giggle.

“No, darling, I don’t need that stuff.” She shook her head. “C’mon, sit next to me, we have to catch up!”

Four years ago

Seven days before New Year’s Eve.

There definitely was a logical reason why you and Yoongi were locked in the tiniest closet of your Grandma's enormous house.

The answer was somewhere in your mind, somewhere deep where your brain functioned just fine, somewhere where you weren’t trapped between Yoongi’s body and some shelf that was digging on your shoulder blade.

You were looking at each other in silence while you heard your name being called from downstairs. The palm of your hand was covering his mouth, preventing him from saying another word and his fist was clenched around your shirt to maintain his balance. You were trying to ignore how his knuckles were digging on the skin of your stomach, or how his chest was pressed against yours or the way his knee was digging in your inner thigh to keep you from crashing against the shelves full of cleaning products.

You looked at him through your eyelashes, quietly observing how his hair fell on his eyes like a curtain. You took a deep breath, thinking of the reason why you were there in the first place, which was… uhm… uh…

Oh yes! You were hiding. Yes, you were hiding from your grandmother, that was why.

This morning Yoongi showed up at your house to pick you and your mother up in his car. He was wearing sunglasses and a baseball cap with the name of his college on it. He smiled cheekily as he helped you put your bags in the trunk and you rolled your eyes when he opened the door of the passenger seat for you. Your mother was delighted, not only because she didn’t have to drive for two hours to your grandmother’s house, but also because Yoongi had that effect on everyone… including you.

Of course your grandmother loved Yoongi as well. Through her eyes, he was like another version of Simon; he was studying the same thing, he was about to graduate just like him, of course she was delighted to welcome Yoongi with open arms. You weren’t saying that you were not welcomed, or that your grandmother didn’t love you, but you were never received the same way. Yes, she hugged you and kissed you and told you she missed you, but that didn’t mean that later on she would not make comments on the way you dressed, or the way you laughed, or whether you should eat another gingerbread cookie or not.

You could endure all those things, you always did, it was nothing new to you. What you could not endure, howerever, was another second in the presence of your grandmother talking about her neighbor’s daughter. You hardly knew Aria, —the tall and blonde girl with gorgeous blue eyes that was sitting in the living room next to your grandmother— but you knew pretty much everything about her since your grandmother insisted on comparing you to her.

Ever since you were a kid your grandmother liked to compare you to every other girl of your age. You were sure Aria was a nice girl, it wasn’t her fault your grandmother was such a bitch, but you weren’t in the mood to face her today, especially when Simon wasn’t around. You knew she was coming with her family, since your grandma loved to invite the whole neighborhood when the holidays arrived, so when you heard your name being called from downstairs so you would come down and greet the guests, you hid in the nearest room of the house, the cleaning closet towards the end of the hall on the second floor.

After a few seconds you stopped hearing your mother calling for you, but then you started hearing Yoongi, approaching in the hallway as he was looking for you in the room you were staying in. You quickly opened the door, grabbed him by his arms and dragged him into the room with you.

You resolved that problem, the next step was figuring out how you would get out of the current situation.

Yoongi gently grabbed your wrist, removing the hand you were using to cover his mouth. “Aren’t you a little dramatic?” He whispered, completely ignoring the short distance that separated your face from his.

Yoongi’s breath smelled like the red wine he was drinking during lunch, and that should send some alert to your mind to warn you that he shouldn't be this close to you, but your brain seemed to be functioning on a different astral plane, and it was pretty much only focused on Yoongi’s lips.

You felt his hand opening to let go of your crumpled shirt, but then he slowly slid it back to your waist, grabbing you gently.

You gulped.

That seemed completely normal.

“Of course I am.” You whispered back, and you congratulated yourself for being able to speak. “That’s why I am hiding in a closet.”

“And you dragged me with you.” He remarked.

“You were screaming my name, you were going to give me away.” You accused him, digging a finger on his chest.

He nodded, pretending that what you just said made sense “Right, I get it. So… why are you hiding here instead of your room?” He said, emphasizing his words.

You took a quick look around the tiny dark room that wasn’t made to have two people in it. It smelled like bleach and it was full of brooms and dust. It wasn’t the most comfortable place to hide but it seemed like no one opened this room for the last four weeks, so it was safe. You returned your eyes to his face, biting your bottom lip. “My room wasn’t safe.” You explained, dead serious. “Do you think they stopped looking for me already?”

Yoongi rolled his eyes “You sound like someone is trying to kill you.”

Well, no. No one was trying to kill you, but why did you feel the need to run away as if someone was?

“No, it’s worse. If they find me I would have to tell everybody that I dropped out of college.” You effused, making him shake his head in disbelief “You are supposed to be here to support me, aren’t you?” You tried to remind him.

“I am here to support you.” He emphasized. “I am hiding in a closet with you, aren’t I?” You kept silent, knowing he was right. “But you can’t run away from everything, especially if it’s not worth the run, we’ll leave eventually and you’ll forget about your grandma for the rest of the year.”

You sighed, defeated. “I still don’t want to see fucking Aria.”

He scoffed, biting his lip to contain a laugh. “We don’t have to talk to her, we can just say hello and leave.” He said “I mean, but first we have to get out of here.”

He looked around, signaling the room you were squeezed in. He was right, again, he always was. You knew that it was absurd that you were hiding here in the first place, but something inside you urged you to stay there for a few seconds longer. Now you didn’t know if you wanted to stay there to avoid the guests or because you were getting too comfortable in his arms (you already knew the answer).

You had no idea what was happening in Yoongi’s mind, but you were too busy swimming in the warm brown of his eyes to even care, you were too busy dreaming to be interested in what this meant.

You must’ve been long gone for a few seconds, because you were only made aware that you’ve been silent for a while when you heard his soft voice.

“Pinky,” He called for you, pulling you out of the haze of your mind, but the thing that finally snapped you out of it was when you were suddenly caught off guard when you, out of nowhere, felt his hand touching your face, squeezing your cheeks between his fingers “are we going to stop hiding or not?” He calmly asked, making your heart skip a beat.

You blinked, feeling your knees getting weak. If you were speechless before, now you have become completely mute.

What. Was. He. Doing.

And what was he playing?

You couldn’t miss the way his eyes shined in the dark and how your heart swirled in your chest, becoming small the second you watched a flash of a smirk tugging at the corner of his pink lips. Was he fucking laughing at you?

And why were you standing there with your mouth hung open, racking your brain for something to say? Your mind couldn’t process if he was just playing with you, not right now, not ever. You didn’t know what game he was playing, but you decided you were not letting him win regardless. You grabbed his wrist, pulling his hand away from your face.

“Don’t treat me like a baby…” You said in a low voice, but you didn’t know what you were talking about anymore. Everything stopped making sense the moment you dragged him into this room.

He squeezed your waist, digging his fingers on your skin over your cotton shirt. “But you sound like a baby.” He murmured, leaning over you just enough to make your noses brush with each other.

Your heart dropped to your stomach, leaving you without air. God, you felt sick. This wasn’t real, this was a product of your imagination, like every single second you spent with Yoongi these last weeks. “Yoongi…” You whispered, trying to warn him, but instead it sounded like you were pleading. You might as well have done both; warning him because if he didn’t stop you would start believing whatever he was doing, and pleading because you were not sure if you could take it.

He freed himself from your grasp, grazing his thumb along your jaw bone. You couldn’t recall a time, not even in your darkest dreams, where he touched you like that.

“What?” He whispered back, his voice hoarse. “What are you going to do?”

The room laid in profound silence for a moment, the weight of your heart suffocated you and the urge to answer him, to smack him in the face, to run away, increased in your chest. You held your breath, watching him open his mouth about to say something, but then the room shook when someone knocked on the door like they were about to knock it down, being followed by the strong sound of your mom’s voice, making you jump away from him.

“Dear, don’t tell me you’re there again.” She yelled loud enough for the whole block to hear, knocking again for good measure.

Yoongi’s arms fell on each side of his body, and you couldn’t help but feel disappointed. He lifted an eyebrow, ignoring what just happened. “Again, huh?”

You rolled your eyes, pushing his chest to keep a proper distance between your body and his “Shut up.” You gritted your teeth, refusing to acknowledge the warm temperature of your face. You hated to see that there was no trace of embarrassment on his features, just pure amusement. Meanwhile, you didn’t need a mirror to know how red your cheeks were.

Three more knocks. “C’mon, get out there already!” Your mother kept yelling.

When you finally turned around and opened the door, your mother’s gaze fell upon you, looking at you with everything but surprise. It wasn’t the first time you hid there, you did it a couple times when you were a kid and fought with Simon. Your mother was well aware of your hiding place, you just expected her to think you were too old to be found here again.

The surprise came after, when her eyes caught a sigh of another face in the dark. She knew you were going to be hidden here, what she didn’t expect was to find Yoongi right next to you, maybe way too close to each other.

Her eyes widened, out of words “Oh, dear,... Yoongi… Uh, I didn’t- I didn’t know you were both here...” The sentence died in your mother’s lips, but you ignored her reaction, you stepped out of the room, fanning yourself with your hand to cool down and storming out of the situation.

“Sorry, I was dragged into this, Lila.” Yoongi explained, sounding way more composed than you, but the situation didn’t look good for either of you.

“Well, I can only imagine…” She said, but you did not miss her undertone.

You walked back to what was supposed to be your room (and Yoongi’s), leaving both of them behind.

“Your daughter can be very persuasive.” He continued to explain, his voice following you.

A low hum of your mom finished the conversation, she left trying to put together what she just saw, and you hurried your pace so you could lock yourself in the room and leave him outside.

“Pinky!” He exclaimed, stopping you at the door frame.

You needed a second alone, but he was not willing to give it to you.

You turned around, exasperated “What!?” You snapped, but he didn’t care one bit.

“Didn’t you want to get out of here?”

Present

The day Ian came to your apartment to pick up the last box with his things, you finally called your mother to tell her you and him had broken up. You had only told Minnie by then, but it got stuck in your throat for two weeks, ready to be vomited at any moment.

Your mother always said that it was important to grieve things, to be mad about them, to be sad, to cry about them, otherwise you were going to carry that weight while pretending to be okay until, someday, it would explode in your face in the worst possible way. When you broke up with Ian you patiently waited for the tears, for the pain in your chest, for the sad memories of three years with him to arrive one night at three am. You waited for the grief in your car when some sappy love song started playing, or when you went for the groceries and came face to face with the huge advertisement with his face on it, but it never came.

You had an affection for Ian that was not easy to understand, but you liked his company, you liked his unconventional jokes, that he was politically incorrect, that he laughed in the worst moments, but you were never sure you loved him, were you a horrible person for that? For not feeling bad, for not crying for him?

When your mom picked up the phone and you told her why you called, you broke down crying before finishing the sentence, you felt all the emotions stacking up your throat as you sobbed uncontrollably. You soon realized you weren’t crying for Ian, you weren’t crying because you missed him, not even for the proposal, you were crying because you needed a hug from your mom and she was four hours away.

“Women grieve during the relationship.” Minnie theorized when you told her that you didn’t feel bad for Ian “It’s normal if you don’t miss him.”

Maybe she was right, but maybe you were not grieving your relationship with Ian, but the person you were before leaving home.

Now that you were there, sitting at the table with the people that have always been your family, you knew that you were supposed to feel at ease, but the anxiety you felt at the thought of someone mentioning the big break up, as Minnie called it, was stronger. You knew everyone knew, and you knew everyone was thinking about it. Everyone but you, because you were a bit too distracted with a certain someone sitting across the table, just in front of you. A certain someone who couldn’t stop crossing looks with you.

“Aren’t they planning to make a movie about that?” You heard Simon ask, shaking off your thoughts.

As much as you wished not to be the center of attention, you should’ve known that none of your wishes would come true tonight, because every topic, every question, every comment was being redirected at you and your life in the city.

You weren’t paying much attention to the conversation, but you were sure they were talking about a play you starred in two years ago, which contained one of your most acclaimed performances. You remembered those days with pure contentment and pride, but you had numerous reasons for not wanting to talk about it.

“So I’ve heard.” You just said, looking at the half eaten portion of lasagna on your plate.

“Shouldn’t you be in it?” Nari asked this time “You were wonderful in that.”

You smiled, shrugging. “Thanks, but if they don’t offer it to me beforehand I would have to audition again. It’s a different process of casting I suppose.”

You heard almost everyone humming in response, and felt a pair of eyes fixed on the side of your face that you were still trying to ignore. In that moment you decided you would not concede said eyes another single glance tonight, as if you could ever keep your promises.

“But wouldn’t you like to be in it?” Your mom nonchalantly asked “If it were the same casting, I mean.”

You looked at her for a moment, expecting her to realize what she was asking, but she didn’t. You knew she had no business remembering every play you’ve been in, or every casting, or every detail of the life you decided to never share, but you still waited for a moment, expecting her to remember that in that very same play you ended up killing Ian’s character by stabbing him in the heart.

Nothing like reality, you thought.

“Not really.” You chuckled, bitterly “Some things are made to be done just once, it might wear off.”

You breathed out, thinking that you successfully avoided the topic without having to give any explanations.

But of course, once again, you were wrong.

“Oh, sorry, baby.” Your mother backtracked “I forgot you were there with…”

The name died on her throat, immediately knowing that the comment was unnecessary.

You pursed your lips, shaking your head “It’s fine…”

The conversation could have followed its course then, you could have changed the topic yourself, you could have perfectly saved the conversation by making something up, but Nari was quicker.

“Oh, darling, I’m sorry about that, I just heard about it this morning.” She followed your mom, giving you the condolences as if someone just died. “I had no idea.”

“Mom…” You heard Yoongi’s voice echoing in the room as a warning, and without noticing, your gaze landed on him again for a brief moment, immediately breaking your promise. You mentally cursed yourself, taking your eyes off him when he offered an apologetic smile.

Nari looked at him, annoyed at him for scolding her, “I’m just saying, I hope you’re okay, I know it’s not easy.”

“Mom.” Yoongi spoke again, this time more insistent, but his mother paid it no mind.

“It’s okay.” You said without looking at him “I’m okay, things like this happen.”

You didn’t know what things you were referring to, if the break up, the proposal, the leaked pictures, the fact that your ex boyfriend stabbed you in the back. Things like that did not happened everyday, you weren’t supposed to get used to them, but you acted like you already were.

She nodded, looking at you with eyes full of concern. “I was so surprised, honestly. Didn’t you want to get married?”

The directness of the question caught you off guard, so you couldn’t help but chuckle nervously. Everyone could sense how invasive and personal was the question, but the fact that she wasn’t trying to tip-toe around you made you smile softly. You loved Nari, and you knew she meant no harm, so, only for now, you decided to answer with the truth.

“Well, yes, someday.” You quietly professed, the words leaving your mouth like a sigh “But with the right person.”

That was enough to end the conversation, she smiled at you the same way you smiled at her and you could swear she could sense the pain in your heart, not because of Ian, but because of everything else.

Then, Phil began talking about something else and everyone joined the conversation, too scared of saying something wrong and making you cry, but you were still stuck in the moment. After some minutes, when you felt the ache in your chest increasing, you excused yourself and left the table to exit the house through the back door in the kitchen.

You took a deep breath, letting the cold air fill your lungs as you closed the door behind you. You sat at the bench next to Phil’s plants, trying to catch your breath. You were sure you were about to find a home somewhere, you found yourself surrounded by everything that used to feel like it, but you still felt like a foreign person, you still felt like a stranger, a traitor. You couldn’t find the person you were, or the fragments that you didn’t make disappear.

You weren’t strong enough yet, you understood that now. The wind in your hair reminded you that you still tried, but the lack of air in your lungs just told you how immature you still were. Still, you were mindful none of this would be easy, but you just needed a few seconds to compose yourself and then you could come back to the dining room to finish your lasagna. That sounded just fine.

When you were about to get up from your seat, you heard it. The creaking sound of the back door opening, you observed the trace of warm light that came from inside, and then, you heard that voice again.

Inevitably, your eyes met him again, whose head was peeking to verify if you were outside, and when he saw that you were, in fact, there, he closed the door behind him, leaving the two of you alone in the cold darkness of the night. What was he doing?

“You’re here.” Yoongi’s words were accompanied by some misty breath, lingering in the air before disappearing. You lowered your gaze, nervously looking at your feet. ‘You’re here’, he said, and for some reason he sounded relieved.

You were confused, you didn’t understand why he chose to follow you to the backyard, but he invited himself to stay there, leaning on the wall far enough from you.

“It’s cold here.” He announced, trying to dissipate the tension you were creating by staying silent.

You nodded your head, agreeing, but you believed you shouldn’t even grant him that.

Yoongi sighed, “I’m sorry about my mom,” He finally said “I’m sure it wasn’t her intention to put you in an uncomfortable situation.” You tried not to roll your eyes. Was that was he doing? Playing the role of an advocate? “She didn’t mean to sound rude or anything, she just has no filter.”

“It’s okay, I know.” You murmured under your breath. “It wasn’t her fault, it’s just me.”

He kept quiet, he didn’t seem too content with that answer but what could he do about it? You both knew it was the only thing you were going to tell him.

“Fine, but… you shouldn’t be out here… without a coat.” He awkwardly said, making you frown “It’s cold.”

You suppress the urge to punch him in the face, instead, you put your hands between your thighs because he was right, it was cold and you didn’t have a coat on, if you stayed too long outside you were going to get sick.

“I know it’s cold.” You acknowledged “I’m going inside in a second.”

You waited patiently for him to leave, expecting those words to be enough for him to leave you alone for a few more seconds, but he didn’t. He stood there, in the other corner of the porch looking at you like he had something else to say. You didn’t care, you wanted to not care, it was meaningless.

“Are you… I just, uhm… Are you okay?” He stumbled over his words, but you dismissed the way your heart clenched in response.

“Yoongi…” You groaned, intending to sound annoyed at him, but the name came out of your voice like something intimate, something like a secret, it echoed in the air, resonating with the same tenderness that he pronounced your nickname upon seeing you tonight.

“What? I mean-”

“I’m okay, I’ll be there in an instant.” You interrupted him. He didn’t have another option but to agree.

He made his way to the door, but lingered in there for a moment. With one hand on the doorknob, he glanced longingly at you as if he was expecting you to stop him. “You can go now.” You rushed him.

“I know, I know, sorry.” He said, knowing he was caught. “I’m just glad to see you, that's all.”

Before you even got the chance to curse him, he disappeared through the door like nothing happened, once again.

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kaylopolis · 3 months

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Alastor's Shadow (18+) - Chapter Thirteen

Alastor x F!Reader, Alias: Thestral

Synopsis: There’s a new Overlord in town and it isn’t the Radio Demon. Six years after you fell into Hell, you have finally earned your seat at the table as Pentagram City’s newest and baddest and with the Extermination coming six months earlier than planned, it is now time to implement your ultimate endgame. After all, who doesn’t love a bit of power and chaos? Your plan brings you to the doorstep of the Hazbin Hotel as Charlie’s newest Redeemer, but who you find waiting for you will not only turn your entire plan upside down but also challenge your grab for power…

Tag List: Slow burn, rivals to lovers, eventual smut

Masterlist Link: Masterlist

(Let me know if you want to be added to the Tag List!)

____________________________________________

Author note: Dear Hoteliers,

Lots of historical stuff happening, but don't worry, I have little endnotes explaining each with links to more information at the end of the chapter!

Spoiler Warning: Be careful if you flip between the end to read the notes as you read the chapter. There is a major spoiler at the end of the chapter you might accidentally read!

<3 Stay smutty

Chapter Thirteen - The Truth

Content Warning: Spoilers after the end of the chapter; mentions of physical and psychological abuse, panic attack (let me know if I missed any!) MINORS DNI!!!!!

(107 years ago, Heaven)

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!

“Enter,” the Seraphim’s voice called from behind the wood.

Your head held high, your shoulders squared, you entered your father’s office. The sword strapped to your side knocked against your hip as you walked. Although you wore your casual blue robes and not your metal armor, the sword never left your side. You tucked your golden wings in, your blonde hair cut short to frame your face, the wisps of your bangs barely brushing your collarbones.

Stopping before Father’s desk, you nodded to the others in the room in greeting: Adam, the Seraphim, and a few of Father’s personal guards who filed out of the room after you entered.

“Father,” you stated, waiting for him to begin.

From a worldwide flood to raining frogs in Egypt, a meeting in this office always meant serious business. After all, out of all your siblings, you were the most trustworthy. “Father’s Golden Girl,” they all called you - and not just because of your looks. You were his warrior, his right-hand man, his perpetrator of action. You carried out God’s will.

“You are aware of the current events of Earth,” a statement, not a question.

It was January 1917. The mortals were in the middle of a war to end all wars. Who didn’t know?

“Just yesterday, our Ishim delegates intercepted a telegram from Arthur Zimmerman to the Mexican Government proposing an alliance between Germany and Mexico to invade the United States.*” Sera slid a piece of paper across the desk. You glanced at it but didn’t give it much thought.

The Ishim were low-level Angels, more human than divinity, really. They carried out more menial endeavors. Father dispatched a hundred to Earth a year before the war broke out. Why? You weren’t sure, but you were about to find out.

“This war is the mortal’s problem, is it not?” You asked.

Adam caught your eye from the corner of the room he stood in, his usual cockiness replaced with… you sniffed. Guilt?

“Not anymore.”

That caught your attention.

“We believe this telegram was sent by Eve.”

You took a step back, clenching your jaw shut to prevent it from falling open. Instinctively, your hand found the hilt of your sword. “She escaped?” You looked at Adam, but he didn’t look back, his gaze downcast as a wave of emotions weighed down his shoulders.

“Some years ago, yes,” Sera answered.

But why didn’t they… Oh, they couldn’t have sent you right away. No one knew she had escaped, and they weren’t about to let it get out that the evil Evelyn of Eden had bested Heaven’s topmost security prison. Technically, it was the only one Heaven had, and it only had one prisoner, but still. Especially after the whole Lucifer and Lilith incident. Rumor had it they were in love.

You eye the telegram on the desk. “What do you need from me?”

Wouldn’t be the first time you hunted down a human. Cain went into hiding after he murdered Abel. You found him not long after - even with the magic he used to conceal himself from you.

“Find Evelyn and bring her back.”

You nodded, taking the telegram. It smelled of roses, how fitting for the Second Lady of Eden.

“Mikaela,” Father called after you. You paused. “Do not disappoint me.”

You nodded before shutting the door behind you.

Time to go to work.

____________________________________________

(1917, Russia)

This tux was killing you. It was itchy, it was hot, and more importantly, it was suffocating. You didn't have much time to find a suit that fitted, so you grabbed whatever the tailor had. Unfortunately for you, the collar was way too tight, and it constantly rubbed against the injury on your neck.

The music echoed off the ridiculously decorated walls of the Palace. Gosh, you did not enjoy the pianoforte. It was like the instrument was screaming every time one of the strings was plucked.

Just find her and get out. You've been chasing her nearly a year and this was as close as you had gotten to capturing her. Eve was slippery...

You pushed through the crowd, making your way around the dancefloor.

"Шампанское, сэр. Champagne, sir?" A servant thrusted a tray in front of your face. You turned up your nose and pushed onwards.

Ugh, alcohol, you've never touched the stuff.

Sniffing, you could smell the roses. The room was filled with the scent of them, the aroma so pungent you could reach out and touch it. So, she was here, but where exactly?

Making your way to the front of the room, you stopped when you finally spotted her. "What is she doing?" You asked yourself.

Evelyn, her brown hair done up in a mass of stacked curls atop her head, was whispering in the ear of the Grand Duke Michael Alexandrovich. The feather sticking out of her hair wiggled as she laughed.

What is the Second Woman doing playing fairytale at a royal Russian Ball? She even had the dress to go along with it all.

Whatever, all you had to do was grab her and get out.

You pulled your sword from the Void and took a step forward - wait, no. You couldn't work like this. Ripping off the bowtie, you undo the top two buttons, freeing your neck. You rubbed at the black and blue bruises, the action soothing but also painful.

Okay, let's do this.

"У него есть меч! Он собирается попытаться убить царя! He's got a sword! He's going to try and kill the Tsar!" A woman screamed.

Oh, crap. Last time you were down here, everyone carried a sword. Now, nearly two thousand years later, they don't seem to like it so much... Oops.

The room plunged into chaos.

Briefly, you made eye contact with Evelyn. Her brown eyes flashed with confusion before they changed to recognition and then acknowledgment - she recognized you and knew why you were there. Evelyn smiled, mouthing the words, "Hello, Mikaela," before she disappeared into the crowd.

You tried to follow, but you were tackled by a guard. The sword went flying out of your hand as you hit the ground, a bear of a man sitting on top of you.

Great... You were hoping this was going to be an easy in-and-out type of mission...

Pushing the man easily off of you and collecting your sword. Shoving it back into the Void, you huffed, blowing the hair out of your face. You had cut it so short that the seamstress laughed when you walked into the boutique shopping for a dress. She thought you were a man. You’d be mad but, it wasn’t the first time humanity has made that mistake.

Jesus' Disciples named you "Michael" instead of "Mikaela." Ever since then, humanity thought you were a man. It was kind of insulting when you read the first draft and a little sexist...

Alright, let's get out of here and see if we can track her down.

A wall of guards stepped into your path before you could make much progress.

You groaned. It was going to be a long night...

____________________________________________

(1923, Chicago)

“Another?” The bartender asked. You nodded and watched as she poured you a glass of soda water and lemon. Taking a long sip, letting the bubbles dance across your tongue, you went back to twirling your glass.

“You sure you don’t want anything else to drink? Any alcohol?” She asked.

You shook your head. “Not one for the taste, I’m afraid.”

She finally let you be, busying herself with dirty glasses.

You were growing restless on the barstool, the smoke from the cigarettes giving you a headache. Drinking in public for women was scandalous in this day and age - even though you technically weren’t drinking, you were a woman alone at a bar - and you had caught your fair share of male attention. You broke the last bloke’s finger, and the men finally got the message. The bar girl let it slide - she most likely has her own history with the opposite sex that paled in comparison to yours.

But this wasn’t just any old bar, and you were hoping that, eventually, word of your presence here would attract a different kind of attention.

The aroma of roses hit you before her voice did.

“This seat taken?”

Right on schedule.

“Not at all, Evelyn,” you motioned to the stool. “Please.”

The brunette settled in next to you, her iconic brunette hair chopped and curled around her face. Other than that, she looked exactly the same as you left her, save for the wardrobe change - a string of pearls and a grey silk dress that left her ankles exposed. She was always a fashion rebel, pushing the iconic clothing of the decades to the point of scandal. Speaking of, you tried hard not to look at her cleavage - it would take another few decades before that became appropriate in public.

“Please, call me Eve. To what do I owe the honor?” She sang as the bar girl poured her a gin and tonic.

“Come back,” you ordered.

She huffed, “Oh, come on. This is the first proper conversation you and I have ever had, don’t bore me with the self-righteous bullshit propaganda your father feeds you.”

You've been chasing her for six years now. Every time you met, it was all action before she slipped away. How she managed to disappear every time, you didn't know.

She stirred the ice around in her glass before gulping down the entire drink. “You and I both know I am not going back willingly.”

You had to give her the option.

“You’re going back either way.”

“I want you to meet someone,” she smiled, changing the subject. “Al!” Eve waived to a rather portly man at the back of the establishment. The mortal was dressed to the nines in a blue pinstriped suit and accompanying fedora.

“Hey, dollface,” the gentleman kissed Eve on the cheek before taking his hat off and tipping it in greeting. “Pleased'ta meet’ya miss, Al Capone at your service."

Ugh.

You stood, grabbing Eve’s upper arm as you attempted to lug her towards the main entrance. The motion sent a sharp pain through your bruised shoulder. “Let’s go,” you winced.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Eve giggled. The sclera of her eyes flashed black before she turned back to the bar and screamed. “Al! She’s with the fuzz!”

CLICK! CLICK! CLICK! CLICK! CLICK! The echoes of guns loading rang out across the bar.

Fucking Mafia.

You didn’t drop Eve’s arm.

“We can do this the easy way, toots, or the hard way,” Al said, holding a pistol to your face. Despite being no taller than you, he did his best to look threatening.

“Between you and me,” Eve leaned in and whispered. “I’m pretty sure the fat one’s got syphilis.” She motioned to Capone.

Why, Eve? Why was that important right now?

She giggled before pulling out an extremely small pistol from her cleavage. The Angel pointed it at your head. You held your hands up as if feigning surrender. “That won’t kill me, Eve.”

“I know,” she laughed, smiling wildly.

Was this fun for her?

“But it'll kill them,” she motioned to a random man before turning and shooting him straight in the face.

The bar plunged into chaos as you ducked for cover. Rolling your eyes, you mumbled beneath your breath, “The hard way it is.”

____________________________________________

(1937 Lae, New Guinea)

You rolled open the hangar doors. It was late, well past midnight. An oil lantern hung from a mobile post, illuminating the opened engine of a two-seater plane.

Ensuring your sword was strapped to your side, you trudged inside, cautiously approaching the single soul inside. As per usual, the room smelled of roses.

You were but one step in the door when Eve called out, “Mikaela!” Her head popped out from behind the engine. “Good to see you! Been a while, hasn’t it? Chicago, good times.” She dove back inside the engine, half her body sticking out of the contraption. A blue tarp had been laid at her feet, to capture oil as she worked, you assumed.

“You shot up a bar, nearly set it on fire, and almost burned the city to the ground - again… I wouldn’t exactly call that fun.” Keeping your distance, you circled around to the front of the plane. You had better chances of catching the plague than predicting her next move. Eve was wildly unpredictable.

“Oh, my friend,” her sclera flashed black as she smiled over her shoulder. “Chaos is always fun.”

“Why are you doing this, Eve?” And more importantly, what was she doing?

“Can’t a girl love power and chaos with absolutely no motive?” She played dumb, her voice echoing from within the metal compartment.

You crossed your arms, your silence communicating that she had asked a dumb question.

“I’m sick and tired of Heaven, of them always telling me who I am and what to do.” She shrugged, ripping out a piece of the engine. “I’m taking it back.”

“Stop messing around with the airplane, Eve.” You felt like you were scolding a child.

She paused, a metal component in her hand, oil coating her fingers, as she backed out of the engine. Eve waived the metal part around as she spoke. “Aren’t you sick of being their puppet? Of… Of being a part of their machine? Of being told to jump and asking how high?” Grabbing a brown saddle bag, she stuffed the components inside, the tarp crunching beneath her feet.

Oh good, she was sabotaging the plane. Great. You didn’t know why she did half the things she did, but sabotaging Amelia Earhart’s plane? Just... Why? What did that accomplish?

“I’m an Archangel - a soldier - and soldiers follow orders,” you responded, watching Eve clean the oil off her hands.

“And if they don’t?” She raised an eyebrow, motioning to your wrist.

As if on instinct, you tugged on your sleeves to hide the bruises.

“Adam was a dick,” she continued, “but he never touched me.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you felt the blood drain from your face.

She sighed as she got to her feet. You watched the conflict play out on her face. Did she push the topic? Did she change it completely?

"Do you know how they caught me the first time?” she smiled.

“Adam.” You answered, your eyes following her every move. She was planning to bolt. You could feel it. She wouldn't get away this time.

“They used him as bait,” she grabbed her satchel and threw the loop over her head. “And trapped me in a Pentagram.” Eve kicked the edge of the blue tarp beneath your feet to reveal the edge of a chalk line.

She was smart; she kept you distracted and annoyed just enough to keep your eyes off the floor to the lightly drawn star and circle hidden beneath your feet.

Here's the thing about being a General. You knew how to organize armies, how to train soldiers to fight, how to strategize on a battlefield. You were not a covert spy trained to track down rogue Angels. Sure, you went after Cain, but he was sloppy. Despite going to the Goetia and bargaining his soul for a bit of magic to hide him from you, he left a trail for you to follow. All you had to do was hunt down the Goetia he talked to, and, presto, you had a lead.

Eve wasn't really trying to hide. If she was, she'd have found a way to hide the potency of her power: roses, her magic smelled like roses. You could scent it miles away. The downside to chasing Eve was that she was unpredictable. Her moves didn't make any sense or have any logic to them. She was scattered with her actions. Map it out on a battlefield, and it would seem like random nonsense. There was logic to war but not to Eve. Which made it hard to capture her.

Like trying to trap lightning in a bottle.

“Tootle-loo, Mikaela,” Eve sang. The Angel skipped to the hangar doorway, stopping before she closed it. Something flashed in her eyes. Sadness? Pity? Worry? “Don’t be a stranger,” she smiled softly, and then she slammed the door shut.

____________________________________________

(1945, Germany)

The sirens were deafening as you rounded corner after corner, your fire illuminating the tunnels as you ran.

“Come on, come on,” you huffed, out of breath. You’ve been sprinting through battlefields all night long to make it here before the Russian army, but you were cutting it dangerously close.

BANG! The echoes of a gunshot had your ears ringing as you emerged into a well-lit bunker. A dead body lay at Eve’s feet, scarlet pooling beneath it. Another - a woman - sat slumped at a table in a pile of vomit.

Gross.

“Oh, hey!” She lit up, her brunette curls bobbing.

You sidestepped the blood, trying to catch your breath, “Eve, this is getting old.” You were quickly finding out the Angel had a proclivity for violence - specifically guns. What was with her and modern weaponry?

She did a double take, not of the man moaning on the ground, but of your face. You ignored her questioning look, choosing to bend over and suck down gulps of air. It wasn’t that the running took a lot out of you. By golly, you could run days before getting tired, go weeks without food, go months without water, but broken ribs always made it hard to breathe.

Her happy demeanor turned down a few notches as she holstered the gun. “Hey,” she put a hand on your back in comfort.

You shoved her off.

You did not need her pity.

Eve blinked. “Why don’t we head up top and get some fresh air?”

The Russians were expecting to arrive at any minute, they’d most likely bomb the crap out of this place and bury the two of you alive. You nodded, wincing as you stood.

Eve led you out of a secret tunnel hidden behind boxes of supplies. You followed behind her, summoning your sword as support as you limped to the surface. Ugh, your ankle was so swollen.

Eve pushed open a wooden door, leading you into the morning sunlight. The two of you emerged at the edge of a small lake. The sun was rising over the water, the ruins of Berlin surrounding the park.

Eve sat at the edge of the water, watching the sun rise as armies marched and chanted toward the Capitol behind you. The dichotomy was iconic.

You looked between her and the sword and made a silent decision.

Slipping your sword back into the Void, you joined Eve in the grass - wincing as you sat.

“Germany wasn’t my doing. I just wanted to make that very clear,” she laughed awkwardly. “I’m only here because I wanted to end the bastard myself…” Her voice trailed off, the tension becoming… weird.

You could feel her staring at your split lip and black eye.

“Why?” You asked.

She huffed, turning towards the sun, bathing in its morning warmth, “Because fuck heaven and fuck their design.”

“People are dying because of you, Eve.” You gritted.

“So?” She scoffed. “People are always going to die, more will be made. Either they go to Heaven, or they go to Hell. There’s life after this, so not like I’m robbing them of anything. Besides, they’re nothing but puppets fulfilling some predetermined mapped-out plan Daddy designed. Regardless of their free will, they're powerless to fate. They're just machine parts, Mikaela. Just like you and I were designed to be.”

She huffed. “I mean, look at me. I was literally created from Adam’s rib - designed to be the perfect little wife. That’s all I am. That’s all Dad made me to be. I’m changing that!”

“By messing with Father’s design?”

She nods.

“And you do this how?” You raised an eyebrow in confusion, choosing to humor her behavior.

“The Book of Knowledge.”

You laughed, “The book Lucifer stole and then gave you?”

She nodded.

“Why not use it to do good?”

“Because who the fuck cares if I do good? I mean, if I save a few hundred lives or help further a society what does that really accomplish? I’m only further giving in to God’s will. He wants them to succeed, to become better. It’s all a game, Mikaela, don’t you see that? I mean look at this!” She gestured to all of Berlin. “What kind of fucked up, power-hungry arsehole allows this to happen!? Just so humans can rise from the darkest moments of history, to learn and become better than they were before. All this to teach them a lesson!? I mean… Wow.”

You shut your mouth. She had a point. This was messed up.

The two of you sat for a long while, the orchestra of war playing in the background.

Eve’s demeanor changes. “I saw the bruises in Russia.” Her words were sharp.

Your blood ran cold.

“At first, I thought they were just from training, but then why would a soldier have bruises around their throat from training?”

Please don’t go there, Eve. Her rants about Father you could handle, not this. You didn’t deal with personal emotions, you bottled them up and shoved them deep down and quietly forgot about them - like a good soldier.

“They talk, the guards in the prison. I’ve heard the rumors of Dad’s Golden Girl and her mysterious injuries, of the screams behind closed doors. So, in Chicago, I looked again. You had bruises on your shoulder.”

You shot her a questioning glance.

“When you grabbed me part of your dress slipped just a bit… Mikaela, they looked like hand prints.”

You turned away from her, pulling in your knees and hugging yourself.

“So in New Guinea, I tested my theory. Your reaction told me everything.”

Were you that easy to read?

Eve turned to you then, clearly eyeing the bruises on your face. “He beats you, doesn’t he?”

You didn’t answer.

“I don’t know how you do it. To obey his every command for thousands of years… You, out of all of us, have a right to be pissed.”

“It’s my job,” you gritted, your hands were shaking, all emotion absent from your voice. “Besides, my failures are my own fault.”

“What?” Eve jumped to her feet. “How could you say that!? You don’t ask to be beaten. You don’t ask to have your bones broken and your face bloodied!?”

“My failures are my own fault,” Your entire body was shaking now, your voice cracking.

“Mikaela…” Eve planted herself on the grass next to you. Bombs exploded off in the distance, cheering echoing off the buildings. The Russians have arrived.

“My fault.” You whispered, the words imprinted on your brain like ink on paper. “My fault. My fault. My…”

Eve brought you into a bear hug, holding you as tight as she could as the panic attack overcame you. “It. Is. Not. Your. Fault.”

You sobbed.

"Listen to me - no one ever deserves to be abused, and it is never your fault. Abuse is a deliberate, cruel choice made by the abuser, and it is entirely on them. You are a strong, beautiful woman deserving of respect and love. Don't ever let anyone make you feel otherwise."

Eve turned you to face her. “Say it, Mikaela. It. Is. Not. Your. Fault.” Her words were sharp and to the point, trying to jam the message into your mind. To cut out the toxic and replace it with the new.

“It is…” You choked. “It is not my fault.” You cried.

“Louder!” She demanded.

“It is not my fault,” you repeated, your voice shaky.

“Louder!”

“It is not my fault!” You screamed.

“It is not your fault!” She echoed.

And you hugged her back.

____________________________________________

(Present Day, The Nothing, Pride Ring, Hell)

“You turned against Heaven and joined, Eve?” Alastor asked. He’s been eerily silent the entire time.

You smiled, your yellow irises glinting mischievously. “I joined, Eve.”

The demon summoned his own chair and settled in next to you. Together, you stared off at the silhouette of Pentagram City, its lights shining like beacons into the red sky.

“We spent the next thirty-something years traveling. London, Korea, Russia - we went everywhere, sowing seeds of chaos in our wake. She started me on the little stuff, and I worked my way up from there. From swearing and alcohol to stealing and, eventually, murder. Eve was like a gateway drug; just once wasn’t enough to satisfy you, but it was enough to get you hooked. And, somewhere in that time, Eve became my friend.”

You sighed, your eyes swimming in memories. “But, like any drug, at some point in time, it isn’t enough anymore. You need more to keep going, to stay satisfied…”

____________________________________________

(1974, London)

DING!

“Order up!” The chef behind the counter yelled.

SLURP! You found the bottom of your milkshake. “Fuck,” you cried. “I’m out.”

The two of you, after an extremely long plane ride from America, stopped at a lunch counter for a quick snack.

The time in between master plans was always your favorite but also your most hated. It meant a time of scheming, of plotting something new and exciting, but it was also a time when Eve tended to channel her energy into other matters. Most notably sex, drugs, and music. It's like she needed an outlet for her restless energy.

You put your newspaper down, the title reading "Nixon Resigns!" and turned to Eve. The brunette wasn’t paying attention, her mind on the cute human boy sitting at the end of the counter.

You analyzed her as she daydreamed. The itch was there again, the temptation to bring up what you’ve been keeping silent on for so long.

Eve was fine with toying about on Earth. You didn’t blame her; she’d been locked up for so long, and all she wanted to do was live and do as she pleased, but frankly, you were growing bored. Sure fucking around with the humans was entertaining, but the fact of the matter was you accomplished nothing from it.

Eve believed she was messing with Dad’s grand creation, but if you paid attention, Heaven found a way to fix everything she undid. After all of her meddling, things always returned to normal: war ended, economies stabilized, rulers were replaced, and laws were rewritten. Anything Eve ever did was fixed. And that was starting to bother you.

You wanted bigger. You wanted more. You wanted permanent. And you had an idea to make it happen.

“Eve,” you lightly tapped her hand. Dreamily, she turned to you.

“Oh, you’re done already?” She pouted.

“Yeah… Listen,” you cleared your throat, preparing your speech. “I want to propose a field trip. Maybe a change in scenery?”

Eve blinked. “A change in scenery? What’s wrong with the scenery here?” She motioned to the cute British boy, her voice a little too loud for comfort.

“Nothing! Nothing! I just…” You hesitated. You needed a hook, a reason to get Eve interested.

The truth was, you tried broaching this topic before, but she always blew it off. Eve was content. You were not. She didn’t want a change in the status quo - you were growing bored of the status quo.

So, this time, you were going to baby-step her into your plan - turn her opinion around. Perhaps, help her see the fun she could have by finally doing something your way for once.

“There’s this festival I’ve always wanted to go to,” you suggest. “Lot’s of cute boys. There will be music, dancing, drinking… It’ll be a good time!”

“A festival,” she lit up. “Sounds fun!”

“Cool. Cool… It’s in Wrath.”

She choked, “What!?”

“I know, it’s in Hell, but can we just check it out? If you hate it, we can leave right away. I just… I’ve never been. I thought maybe it would be a new adventure for us?” You shrug.

Eve thinks a moment.

“Plus, we’d be breaking so many rules. Angels aren’t allowed in Hell, after all…”

“Done.” She stands. “Let’s go!” Eve grabs your arm and pulls you out of the restaurant.

In a side alley, you summon a portal and are whisked away into what you would look back on and consider to be the beginning of the end.

____________________________________________

(7 years ago, Pride Ring, Hell)

"I'll be there momentarily, Al," Lilith hung up the phone as you entered the room. "Mikaela, Eve," she greeted.

You step into the office and close the door behind you. “Lilith,” you nod to her in greeting.

Your plan worked. Eve and you spent the better part of nearly fifty years partying your way through the Rings of Hell. It started in Wrath with the Harvest Moon Festival - Eve enjoyed the Pain Games far more than you expected - and resulted in a series of debauchery moving up from there.

You hadn't really spent time in Pride - you've had enough of mortals and their petty problems for a good while. However, your next plan - the ultimate plan - required you to be here.

Nearly 50 fucking years... It took you that long to convince Eve of your plan... and to make it seem like it was her idea. You had discovered that, yes, Eve was a schemer, but her plans were always limited in their size. You were thinking bigger.

This was your third meeting with Lilith and if everything went to plan, it would be your last.

The Queen of Hell stood next to the window, the view overlooking Pentagram City. She didn't want to meet at her home - understandable - which was tucked away in a pocket dimension. So, you met here, at her... office? I guess if you want to call it that, sure. It was an office in the City.

Even took a seat on the desk, her fingers rummaging through everything and anything set before her. "Awww," she grabbed a photo. "The three of you are so cute!"

You tried not to groan. "Eve..."

"Sorry," she dropped the frame, pulling her hands into her lap like a scolded child. The Second Woman turned on her charm before addressing existence's First. "Are we ready?"

Lilith continued to stare out the window, her eyes swimming with unspoken thoughts. Her horns looked rather shiny today, her purple dress perfectly pressed - she dressed for the occasion. The woman smoothed her dress, a nervous habit of hers. The Queen turned to you, her plum eyeshadow sparkling in the light. "Yes."

In a flash, you had Eve pinned to the floor, your hands wrapped around her throat.

Confusion swam in her eyes as you squeezed. "Mikaela?" She choked out.

Lilith leaned over. Making eye contact, the First Woman commanded, "Do not move. Do not fight back."

And Eve froze.

The power of Lilith's voice... It's what makes her singing abilities so powerful; it's how she convinces the masses and rules over Hell so easily.

"I'm sorry, Eve, but I can't have you holding me back any longer."

Confusion turned to fear as you channeled your fire into your hands and began to burn - Holy Fire. You've killed members of the Angelic kind before - mostly lower-level Angels prone to corruption, like the Ishim. It was easy to erase lesser beings, and surprisingly, it was easier to take down Eve than you originally thought. Especially considering she never thought you turning against her was a possibility.

Eve screamed as she died, and when her body was nearly ash, you were left with not a soul before you but the physical embodiment of power: a book. not just any book, but the book. It was ethereal and partially incorporeal as you collected it in your hands.

"Having second thoughts?" Lilith asked.

"No," you immediately responded. "No, just... I've been thinking about this for a long time. Longer than when I originally approached you and proposed the idea. Now it's finally here... It doesn't feel real."

(In hindsight, this wasn't just one of the hardest decisions you had ever made but a defining moment that had left a mark on your very being. If you were willing to kill one of the most important people in your life, what else wouldn't you do?

So, no, dear reader, you did not tell Alastor how much this killed you. You did not tell Alastor how much you cried. You did not tell him the real reason why you needed music to sleep at night was not because the screaming disturbed you but because when you fell asleep, those screams morphed into that of Eve's.

There would be a day, however, when you told the Radio Demon how much this hurt, and he would see you cry and completely fall apart. A day when you would broach this topic and eventually heal this ugly part of you.

But - as we all learned from the Full Moon episode - years of trauma does not get resolved in one conversation.

Alastor, however, could see it in your eyes. You didn't need to tell him. He may not have ever killed Vox, but there was something there, something that happened with which he could relate to what you were feeling right now as you told him your story.

And you were thankful for it, because he gave you a look which said you did not have to go there right now - he understood.)

Hesitantly, you brought the golden, glowing book to your chest and felt the power fuse with your being.

Printed text exploded across your skin as the magic accepted its new host. The energy flooding your veins, the high unlike anything ever before.

Fuck, is this how Eve felt all the time? No wonder she was always so restless with energy.

"Okay," you turned your back on Lilith and unbuttoned your shirt. You would NOT let yourself revel in how good this felt. You would NOT let yourself drown in the ecstasy of power.

Pulling ink and a quill from the void, you stood there as Lilith etched a rune across your back. When she had finished, the text across your skin was pulled towards the rune and locked beneath the seal.

You breathed deeply, feeling the weight of the power lift from your shoulders, "It worked."

It had to be contained until the time was right. You couldn't have anyone sensing what you carried. The potency of power is how you managed to track Eve down on Earth - it made her a target. Plus, you didn't know what that kind of power would do to your head - it made Eve scatterbrained and impulsive. Constantly chasing the high. You needed clarity to accomplish what you and Lilith had planned.

Power is a dangerous thing. You saw what it did to God, and no part of you ever wanted to have any similarities with that man. So, long ago, when you made the ultimate decision to take the power from Eve, you decided it needed to be locked away as well.

"This is written in Leviathan," Lilith observed. "Didn't Dad -?"

"Yes," you cut her off.

It was before the dawn of man, during Dad's experimental age. The monsters were violent and could not be controlled. He ordered you to corral them into a pocket dimension: Purgatory. You raised and led an army against them, and still, it had taken you years to subdue and capture them all. Your reward? Father pushed you in behind them and locked the door.

"Find a way out," he ordered - punishment for disappointing him. How had you disappointed him, you ask? You took too long.

"I have some... baggage to take care of before I leave." She began, noting the pile of ash on her carpet. "Your contact in Pride is no longer an option."

Fuck. You'd put considerable effort into vetting the Overlord Lilith had pointed you towards - Husk. Now, you were going to have to start over with someone else.

You'd later learn Husk fell from power, losing it in a game of cards to Alastor, of all people. The demon had become a thorn in your side long before you ran into him at the Hotel.

"Whom do you suggest?" You rebuttoned your shirt.

"Rosie, she's a wonderful woman. She'll be good to you, and I trust her."

You had no choice but to take her word for it. Question her now, on the eve of the beginning, especially when you sensed hesitation within her, might just tip her over the edge. She was leaving her husband and child behind, after all.

You held out your hand. "Shall we?"

Lilith considered your offer for a moment. Although she agreed to help you double-cross Eve, you never finalized the contract. You agreed not to, pending how killing the brunette played out, but Lilith came to play.

Your heart held no sympathy for the Queen. She was about to lose everything, but it was temporary. Lilith would be returning home to a husband and a child - to a family. You? You had no home, no family anymore. Lilith could handle a few years away.

Eventually, the demon shook your hand. The room exploded in blues and purples, marking the contract you two just made.

You smirked, "I guess it's time for my grand entrance." You made for the door. "You'll be fine?"

Lilith sighed, "If anyone knows how to handle Adam, it's me."

Right...

"Goodbye, Lilith."

She stopped you, her fingers wrapped around your arm rather tightly. "No harm comes to her." The purple in Lilith's eyes flashed.

She was talking about Charlie. Her daughter was part of the deal: no harm comes to her or her family.

"Of course..."

She let you go. "To power and chaos."

"To power and chaos," you responded as the door shut behind you.

You nearly landed on Rosie a few hours later...

____________________________________________

(Present Day, The Nothing, Pride Ring, Hell)

Alastor leaned forward in his chair, his elbow on his knees, his chin cupped in his hands. His eyes bore into you with every word of your story. The demon listened intently, paying attention to every detail, every flicker of emotion on your face.

Was he expecting you to lie? Was he expecting deceit? You had offered up nothing but the truth - for once. You told Alastor the entire story.

“You killed Eve.”

“I did.”

“For power?”

“Yes.”

Alastor’s eyes finally leave yours, his gaze wandering to the City before you.

“I know why you’re at the Hotel, Alastor.”

That caught his attention. Surprise fills his face as he raises an eyebrow at you, ears perked at attention.

“Oh?” He purrs.

“I know about the deal with Lillith, but it’s more than that. You’re looking for Roo.*” You cross your arms in front of your chest, a sly smile worming its way into your crooked grin. Finally, you could let the demonic side of you shine - the curse of Knowledge slipping through.

“Is that so?” He intertwines his fingers, his hands coming to rest in his lap. The Radio Demon is clearly amused with your statement - yet his radio static is nowhere to be found.

Interesting.

“Power and chaos. Isn’t that always the story?” You stand and take a step towards him, cautious yet curious to see how he will react.

“And what would you know of Roo?” His lips curl.

There it was. There’s the Radio Demon. The power-hungry murderer. God, that look gave you chills.

“I know that’s not her real name,” another step.

Alastor sits up straighter.

You can’t believe he hasn’t put it together - or he has, and he’s toying with you.

“Oh?”

“Rule number one of Hell, don’t go by your God-given name.”

He waits for you to elaborate.

“Roo’s real name…” You take another step, his eyes flicker over your form, noting the proximity. Was he anxious? You leaned forward, your hands on the armrests of his chair as you towered over him.

You stopped close enough to feel Alastor’s breath on your face, his eyes automatically dropping to your red lips. You smirked, “...was Eve.”

You feel the tattoo on your back shift as you break the rune which was sealing the magic within.

Words fly across your skin, roaming the unclothed flesh. Your sclera turned black, your hair coming undone by the power surging through every fiber of your being. Horns grew atop your head, your spiked tail unfolding from your backside. Your wings popped out, their black feathers shining in the light. The Radio Demon watched as you let the power of the Book of Knowledge, hidden deep within you, flow freely for the first time in nearly a decade.

He could feel it, he could smell it - the power so potent he could taste it on his tongue: roses, the Book forever carrying a remnant of its original owner, Eve.

You were the epitome of power - the Root of All Evil.

Roo.

After Lucifer ran off with Lilith, he returned to the Garden of Eden with a gift: the Book of Knowledge. He granted it to Eve before he left. Eve never said why he did it, but she was grateful. She would do anything to get away from Eden. Eve took the book and attempted to flee, but Father lured her back, using Adam as bait. Despite what the Second Woman claimed, part of you always believed she had feelings for the First Man...

But, before Eve was taken, she merged herself with the power from the Book so it could never be separated from her. They’d have to kill her for it.

Instead, Father had her locked up and contained. The devil you know is better than the devil you don’t, and he didn’t want to risk that power passing on to a different hand only to breed a more powerful enemy.

Eve stewed in isolation for thousands of years before finding a way out, before she made her way back to Earth to brew chaos and destruction.

That’s when you were sent to find her. That’s when you befriended her. That’s when you killed her and took the power from the Book for yourself.

Alastor’s smile widens far past what you thought was possible for the demon. His eyes meet yours, his gaze exploding with fire.

“Interesting.” From the Void, Alastor pulls a blade - Velvette's blade. He palms the handle, gripping it in greedy temptation as you, the object of all his desires, stand before him.

You couldn’t recall when the Angelic blade had ended up in his possession, but you weren’t surprised. You knew he was going to try and kill you when he found out - he’d need Angelic steel to do that.

The demon cups your face, his thumb running across your cheek. You could see the hunger for power in his eyes, the constraint with which he fought to maintain composure. Briefly, his pupils flashed into radio dials.

“Absolutely beautiful,” Alastor breathed, his voice absent of static. His lips found yours as he kissed you long and gently. You let yourself melt into him, memorizing his smell, his warmth, the way his lips felt against yours for one final time...

(Keep scrolling)

... and then Alastor plunged the blade deep into your belly.

Could you imagine if I just ended the series right there? That would be HILARIOUS, right? …right? Ha, ha, don’t worry, the story goes on.

-> Chapter Fourteen

History Guide (if you read any of this, read the red at the bottom; it's super important to understanding the fanfic):

1917, Russia - A month after Eve and Thestral's meeting in Russia, Grand Duke Michael Alexandrovich and the rest of the Romanov family were taken prisoner during the February Revolution in 1917, which ended Russia's involvement in WW1 and the Imperial reign of the Tsar. They were executed in July 1918. Yes, I am implying Eve had something to do with this. Link to Wiki

1923, Chicago - Al Capone (also known as "Scarface") was Chicago’s infamous Prohibition Era gangster. He was famous for bootlegging, illegal gambling, and violent crime. He ran one of Chicago's largest and most infamous gangs: Link to Wiki

1937 Lae, New Guinea - Amelia Earhart's - the famous American Aviation pioneer who attempted to become the first female pilot to fly around the world - last known location, before they found her plane in the sea, was Lae, New Guinea: Link to Wiki

1945, Germany - Did I just imply that Eve killed Hitler? Yes, yes, I did. Fun fact, Russia beat the USA to the Capitol of Berlin by only a few hours: Link to Wiki

1974, London - Although our protagonists (arguably antagonists at this point, am I right?) are in London and not Washington D.C., the major event of this segment is Nixon's resignation. I am implying that they had something to do with Watergate without directly stating it: Link to Wiki

*The Book of Knowledge: Okay, go back and watch Episode One, "Overture." In the beginning, when Charlie is reading the story of Heaven and Hell, there's a point where she says: "Together [Lilith and Lucifer], they wished to share the magic of free will with humanity, offering the Fruit of Knowledge to Adam's new bride, Eve, who gladly accepted." The scene shows Lucifer handing Eve a book. The idea here is that knowledge = power, and Lucifer handed over the most powerful well of magic to Eve unknowingly. Knowledge = power = literal physical power = power corrupts = Roo is born.

BOOM. The entirety of my fanfic was birthed from one scene in Hazbin Hotel! But, in actuality, I do think Eve is Roo in canon. Link to Transcript

Tagged Hoteliers (Let me know if you want to be added!):

@sirens-and-moonflowers @wonderlandangelsposts @saccharine-nectarine @mommymilkers0526 @goyablogsstuff

@eris-norwega @missgirlsstuff @alastor-the-radio-demons-blog @sillywormtrixareforkids @its-a-dam-blue-brick

@cloverresin20 @blue-bird251 @speedycoffeedelight @littlebluefishtail @saw1987

@mopeyghost @beelz3bub @fraugwinska @minamilinaqueen @demoarah

@diffidentphantom @divineknightmare @animecrazy76 @sleepykittycx @graunta

@reath-solia @satansdaughter123 @mysticatto

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static-radio-ao3 · 8 months

Text

@jegulus-microfic // january 14 // prompt: massage // words: 808

“Long night?” The bartender asks, towel slung over his shoulder as he pours Regulus another glass of whiskey.

“Long month,” he sighs. He massages his temples for a moment, but it doesn’t do anything to alleviate the headache that’s building up.

“Yeah? Wanna tell me about it?” The bartender busies himself with cleaning the counter. There’s no one else to tend to, after all. He looks up at Regulus over the rim of his glasses.

Regulus snorts out a laugh. Perhaps somewhat unattractively, but he doesn’t care. There’s no one left to impress, after all. “I don’t think you get paid enough for that.”

“I get paid plenty. Come on, I’m all ears.”

Regulus considers for a moment, glass loosely held between his fingertips. He swirls the liquid around. Tilts his head. “Well, at least tell me your name before I unload all my issues.”

The bartender moves so he’s standing right in front of him. He leans down, arms coming to rest on the counter. He has nice arms, Regulus notices. Strong. Corded. Veiny.

“James,” the bartender says. He tips his head as if to say nice to meet you.

“Well, James,” Regulus starts, “I’ve been dating.”

“Ah.”

“And it’s not going well.”

“Ah.”

“See, my first date was with a guy who was definitely in love with his roommate and asked me to drive him home an hour into the date because the roommate called. There was an emergency, apparently. I don’t know what type of emergency requires me to stop for condoms first, but I digress.”

Barty hadn’t even been apologetic about it. Told Regulus point-blank that he needed to pass by the store. Bought ribbed condoms and flavored lube. Directed Regulus to their apartment. For a brief moment, Barty had seemed to consider inviting him up.

“They’re nice though,” he continues with a shrug. “We hang out sometimes.” James chuckles in amusement, soft and low. “Second date was with a guy whose hair was so greasy, I swear you could deep fry something in that mess. And he kept talking about his childhood best friend, which was giving me stalker vibes, to be honest.”

James watches, rapt, as Regulus brings his glass to his mouth and tips it back, the whiskey burning through his system. It leaves him feeling warm and fuzzy around the edges. He’s not sure if it’s the whiskey, though, or James’ attentive gaze.

“And tonight?” James asks. “Date number three?”

“This was four, actually,” he sighs. “Three was a double date with my brother and his boyfriend and their friend, but the friend stood me up.”

“He did not,” James gasps, appropriately scandalized.

“Right?” Regulus sniffs. He stares into the bottom of his glass, amber liquid long gone, just to avoid the pity he knows he’ll find in James’ eyes. “Tonight was a miss, too. I don’t know, maybe I’m the problem. The undateable Regulus Black. The least eligible bachelor in all of England.” Regulus can’t help the derisive snort that escapes him.

“What did you just say?” James straightens. The movement is so sudden that Regulus startles with it.

There is a bitter twist of his mouth as he repeats his words. It feels a bit cruel to be asked for an encore of his self-deprecation, but Regulus has always had a hard time saying no to a pretty face. “The least eligible bachelor in all of England?”

“No, no, before that.”

He rolls his eyes. “The undateable Regulus Black?”

James takes a step back behind the bar, as if to get a better look at Regulus. He’s sure he’s quite the spectacle. Hair mussed, eyes bleary, tie undone because he’s been tugging at the knot all night.

“Shit, you’re Sirius’ brother. I— I had an unexpected shift last week, Peter got sick.” James cards a hand through his hair, tugging on some strands as he goes. “That’s why I couldn’t make it.”

Regulus jolts in his chair, leaning closer to James, eyes narrowed and lip curled up in a sneer. “Wait, you stood me up?”

“I didn’t know!” Two hands held up in surrender. Regulus thinks they’re nice hands. Skilled, too, because he saw James twirl bottles earlier. He wonders what those hands might feel like on his throat. No. He blinks harshly to clear his head. James is still standing there, hands raised. When Regulus leans back into his chair, he lowers them.

He turns to the shelves where the liquor is stocked, grabs the bottle of whiskey. Regulus forces himself not to think indecent thoughts about the man's back.

“Well then,” James says, pouring himself a drink after topping off Regulus’ glass. He shucks the towel off his shoulder, unbothered when it lands in a heap on the counter behind him. Shoots Regulus a wry grin, glass lifted mid-air as if toasting. “Fifth time’s the charm?”

#it's barely the 14th for me but posting it already for kay <33 #rosekiller accidentally had an entire subplot #regulus black #james potter #jegulus #jegulus microfic #mil's microfics #mil's writing #my writing

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jamiliana · 2 months

Text

random drabble cs i was bored :33 req open btw!

💫 warning 💫

♡ BLACK MALE FTM READER. kinda chubby too ig cs hes mentioned to have plump thighs once.

♡ abuse- kinda. gojo slaps u like once out of built up anger.

♡ MENTIONS OF MASTERBATION reader),, ALSO MENTIONS OF READER FUCKING OTHER PPL..(MEN AND WOMEN)

♡︎ signs of depression,, i think ..

♡︎ unhealthy lifestyle for like a bit.

♡︎ reader is so oblivious 😔..

♡︎ uhh not proof read. i just kept typing until i lost momentum. also this is rlly short

♡ SORRY FOR THE HUGE AMOUNTS OF SPACES. i types ts on docs so its gonna do that

♡ no uppercase :3

♡ no nsfw (Ikkk i got lazy. plus im so bad at it.)

♡ this is rushed if u couldnt tell 🥸.

♡ GETO IS SO HOT 🫦🫦👅👅👅💦💦 oh yah u like gojo too :L

random song u can listen to for this ig (no it doesnt go along with this drabble (i think)):

geto suguru. when that name comes to mind, you bite your soft, light pink bottom lip- a beautiful contrast to your brown upper lip- and your knees swayed with weakness. geto suguru.. the man he was.. it almost disgusted you with how beautiful he was. almost.

those beautiful deep-violet eyes- the same color as the dark night sky as your eyes burn from how long you’ve been staring at the blinding light of your phone screen- pulling an all nighter of course. those eyes.. always crinkling as he smiles, the faint yet visible dimple on his pale skin winking at you. but it was never you, was it? always gojo. gojo this, gojo that. it made you sick. but you knew better than to express your hatred for gojo. after all.. he was quite attractive to you too. you don’t know at this point- every time you thought of satoru, you’d do the same thing you did when you thought of suguru- bite your lip and sway your knees as they weakened. but then you’d remember how sickeningly close him and suguru were and you’d feel the same feeling you felt now- jealousy.

ugh, jealousy. you hated it. you hate how jealous you were of both of the men. they had each other and you wish you had both of them. but that’d never happen. you knew all too well. even shoko- the other person that made them a trio looked left out at times.

you didn’t stand a chance. you didn’t.

but oh, you wish you did. it hurts so bad.

you suck in a bit of air and click the off button on the side of your phone.

it hurts..

the phone gets placed on your night stand as you shakily stand up from your bed.

what time was it? it felt like it has been so long since you’ve taken a shower today.

what month was it? january.. or was it july? what day was it? tuesday.. thursday?

tears spilled from your eyes- almost mocking you as you stared into the thing you’ve been avoiding since that day. that day where reality crashed down onto you.

your reflection.

God, it was disgusting.

your hair wasn’t dirty- thank God- but you have been forgetting to wear your bonnet. so your thick, curly type 4 hair was all over the place.

damn, you needed to set up a hair appointment.

but, gosh, it wasn’t only your hair.

the dark purple and horrid black under your eyes was a consequence of all the nights you’ve been awake. they weren’t the slight black under suguru’s eyes that he had from the make up he wore- oh God no. they were disgusting to look at. you swore you almost threw up.

your eyes looked so.. empty but you couldn’t bare to stare into them for any longer than a split second.

your beautiful brown skin wasn’t glowing like it always did. you’ve been forgetting to moisturize yourself after taking showers. along with the dried tears..

you were..

a mess.

yes, perfect wording.

a mess.

and all because of that day.

the day reality crashed.

the day gojo and geto kissed.

shoko clapped happily for them while you just blinked.

‘oh.’

you remember thinking.

‘of course. they are practically meant for eachother. why would i ever have a chance?’

you remember thinking.

after that day- May 25th- it was a saturday, you remember. you, shoko, geto, and gojo were at a café, deciding it would be a great way to hang out especially since school wasn’t in session.

you regret going.

you wish you never went.

but now, as you stare into your reflection, you say something aloud- to yourself of course.

“fuck them.”

‘fuck them’ indeed.

you chuckle, thanking the cashier and strutting your way out of the convenience store.

life has been great.

you’ve been getting healthier- not as healthy as you used to be- but still good nonetheless; drinking more water, getting back into your regular training, eating more fruits and vegetables, being active again.

a godly contrast to how you were a month ago.

things were better now.

sure, you still liked suguru and satoru.

and you hated that you did.

but you learned to accept it and move on. love doesn’t just leave so simply.

you have also learned to distance yourself from them.

you learned to just.. live. breeze through your days til your inevitable demise (which you knew was soon to come- especially as a sorcerer.)

though at least you breezed through them without any issue-

a hard chest stopped you from moving forward to your school along with a pair of rather big, strong hands gripping your shoulders from behind halting you to a stop.

“so this is where you’ve been, baby?”

baby?

“satoru?- wait,,”

with wobbly knees you attempted to turn around to at least look at the owner of the strong hands gripping your shoulders but a familiar soft voice filled your eardrums.

“stop trying to turn around, baby.”

again, with the baby stuff.. why were they being all love-y for? like how they used to be.

as friends, of course. they never liked you like that.

“suguru?! hah..”

why were they here? you made sure you wouldn’t ever run into them anymore.

so how..

you heard a chuckle- which you knew was from suguru because of how soft the chuckle was and because satoru- who was in front of you- had his soft, pink lips in a tight, firm, thin line.

”yes, baby boy, suguru,,~ it’s been a while.”

you weren’t even focused on how he called you baby boy,, after all, they always used to call you pet names.

‘which could mean nothing.’ you’d always say to yourself whenever satoru or suguru called you ‘baby’, ‘baby boy’, ‘prince’, etc.

you were more so focused on that word,, while.

a while is an understatement. it’s been a month and a few weeks since you’ve last talked to them or even glanced in their direction.

but oh, how you missed the soft, gentle, and kind voice of suguru and the obnoxious, loud, dee voice of satoru’s.

oh, how you missed the deep violet and the obnoxiously bright, blue eyes to contrast looking at you with such love care in their eyes,,

oh, how you missed the weird bangs and the man bun atop suguru’s head and the fluff of white atop satoru’s head that they’d always let you play with- espcially suguru,,

and the height difference. you missed how gojo and geto looked down at you as you talked excitedly about something while they smiled and muttered a few responses back- looking mesmerized at.. something. but it could never be you. right?

ugh.

fuck, you needed them so badly. you were tired of stuffing your fingers up your swollen cunt and pretending it was suguru’s or satoru’s. you were tired of fucking other women and men and pretending they were satoru and suguru.

you were tired.

“well? don’t you have something to say to us, (name)?” gojo said after only a few seconds of silence.

fuck. that teasing voice,, always made heat form in between your plump thighs.

“no? why should i say anything,,” you muttered in response, fumbling with the hem of the biker shorters you had decided to wear.

bad choice, really. but a majority of your wardrobe was biker shorts, Nikes, crocs, uggs, hoodies, simple multicolored tees, and Nike socks.

the other minority was just black and gray leggings and sweatpants that you barely wore unless it was cold.

you heard geto click his tongue.

“seriously, baby boy? when you started avoiding us, did you lose some brain cells too?” suguru spoke up.

you were just glad gojo didn’t. the man looked pissed. hell, his usually pale face was slightly a little red with a frown etched on his features.

‘thank God i’m black.. i could never..’

oh, right. you had to respond to geto.

“ah- what do you mean,, i haven’t been avoi-“

you were cut off by a harsh slap to your cheek.

ow.

it hurt so bad.

it hurt..

huh. funny. you remember feeling hurt.

“gojo!” suguru scolded, forcefully spinning you around and rubbing your cheek affectionately- concern etched all over his pretty, pale face,,

it felt so good…

you suppressed a whimper as you felt the familiar heat in between your legs that you once felt for suguru.

“sorry, suguru. but he- he’s lying. does he even know how much hurt we felt when he started avoiding us? he deserves it.”

what?

you forced yourself to turn back around to face gojo.

“huh- gojo-“

“satoru.”

oh,,?

“satoru.. i only avoided you guys because i didn’t want to ruin your relationship..”

silence.

after a few minutes of gojo breathing heavily while staring at you, suguru lifted you up with ease- snatching the case of cookies you had just brought and handing them to satoru.

what the fuck?

the sound of two muttered voices above your head is what awoke you.

“he looks so pretty, satoru..”

“i know. i can’t believe he’d ignore us for something so idiotic. does he not realize the way we look at him?”

what?

“what..?” you mumbled, slowly sitting up, putting your hands on the hard chest’s of whoever two people were on each of your sides to prop yourself up.

this was gonna be a long day.

#black male reader #bottom male reader #x black male reader #gay #jjk suguru #jjk geto #jjk gojo #jjk satoru #gojo x male reader #geto x male reader #geto suguru #suguru geto #gojo satoru #satoru gojo #drabble #Ꮺ✧ soya writes !#soyawrites #Spotify

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aphinthestars · 2 months

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FINALLY FINISHED MY CHARACTER SHEET FOR MY SPIDERSONA! 💜😭 After quite literally nine months of working on it! Don't expect something as detailed from me ever again though lol.

I'll talk a little about her lore and character wise in this post if you are interested! (Quick TW Since Aph's story deals with quite a bit of death, self hate, suicidal thoughts etc, etc, you get the gist just be careful reading, also heads up both my friends Didi and Nico wrote their spidersonas with mine so their lores intertwine also also heads up for a quite a bit of an age gap since my spidersona is shipped with Miguel sooooo)

Aph Stella or better well known as Constellation Weaver, the Spiderwoman of Earth-117.

Her powers are basically the normal Spider-Man powers with a few exceptions, she is based on stars, starlight, shooting stars etc, so for example her webs are made out of stars holding onto each other like constellations, like stars being made out of fire, her webs are extremely irritating to the normal human skin, the closest injury to it being a quimical burn.

As well as her webs she can charge her stars on the palms of her hands to cause damage to enemies.

Cons to her powers are that she didn't get the normal super strength that everyone else does, instead she got double the resistance, think of it as she is meant to protect not fight, though she can more then handle herself with the villains in her universe.

Like on Madoka Magica she needs a recharge period on her powers or else something horrible might happen to her, though instead of having a jewel like on Madoka Magica, her body slowly gets filled with a star pattern, that's actually why her suit has pieces of her skin open, so she knows she is not overusing her powers.

The city she lives instead of being New York is named Nueva Lunaria, situated in the late 2020s

She is 26 years old, became Spiderwoman at age 21 but all her canon events only started happening a year or two before the events of ATSV.

Her height, like her creator, is 1.52 cm or 5'2 feet.

Came from an emotional abusive household but lived the first 4 years of her life with her grandmother May until she eventually died of old age and she had to go on back to live with her parents.

After leaving her parents' home she quickly moved in with her two best friends since childhood Didi and Nico.

Because of Aph being the oldest she always was a substitute mom to the both of them.

Nico and Didi helped create Aph’s suit so it's an emotional piece for her.

Aph got bitten in her job as a freelance artist for her universe's version of NASA, Aph would take any job that anywhere would throw at her as she needed the money, being the oldest she felt the need to support Nico and Didi through their careers (Both ended up graduating, Nico as an art preschool teacher and Didi as a nurse which helped Aph heal her injuries in the right way)

Aph got bitten in her job by a rogue entity that they had brought from outer space, specifically from an endeavor to the moon, the only way the people in that ship could describe it was a spider.

Aph got bitten while working on drawing said description of the spider for the research team.

Aph quickly quit her job after she noticed she was becoming Spiderwoman because she was afraid of getting experimented on or worse.

From then on she promised to use her powers responsibly and with kindness just as her Nana May would've wanted.

Sadly both Didi and Nico were Aph's canon events.

Nico dies at the hands of the Lizard in Aph's universe, thrown off a building after the Lizard stopped toying with her, Aph tried to catch her with her webs in a panic but because of her injuries done by the Lizard and the injuries that she got from Aph's webs, she didn't survive, she dies on the beginnings of December before Aph's 26th birthday in January.

Aph's birthday on January 17 that year was the only one she has ever not celebrated in her life.

Didi dies on Valentine's day the year that Aph became 26, done with not being able to help Aph fight villains she makes a deal with what she didn't know at the time was the Green Goblin, making her into a praying mantis hybrid that Aph had to defeat.

Aph blames herself for both their deaths thinking they were preventable.

She lives in a shoujo manga/magical girl inspired world (Think Sailor Moon and Madoka Magica)

A lot of her lore was deadass taken or inspired by Madoka or Sailor Moon so bare with me lol.

Because of Didi's and Nico's deaths Aph can no longer pay for the rent for her apartment and goes back to her parents' home.

Her parent's try to arrange a marriage for her with the Doc Ock of her universe and that's her last straw.

She plans to commit suicide that night but never gets the chance.

That night a orange portal appears in her childhood bedroom, everything floating up and then falling back.

From there emerges Miguel O'Hara recruiting her to the society.

She cuts his speech and says that yes she will join him without hesitation as she sees this as a signal from the universe to keep living and do good in other places.

Much like Gwen she pretty much abandons her universe and lives full time in Earth-928 on the society thanks to Miguel.

Miguel finds out about what she was about to do in her universe and makes sure she gets help.

What Aph doesn't know at the time is that their are Spiderman versions of Didi and Nico in the society, Didi is the adoptive daughter of Miguel and Nico as well as Aph can't go back to her universe.

Miguel hides this information from Aph to protect her but she finds out anyway, they talk it out and Aph understands why he did it, he wanted to make sure Aph didn't try to see this Didi and Nico as replacements of her own.

She eventually is alright enough to be friends with them though.

Miguel in my AU is 35.

Aph and Miguel have a 9 year difference.

Aph and Miguel quickly become close because they feel as if they both lost people in their lives that were important to them in similar ways.

Since Aph is on Nueva York at least for the near future, like the bracelet that Miles wears when he comes into the spidersociety, Miguel turns Aph's star shaped earrings into stabilizers so she can be there without the clunky watch (Though she still needs it to go to other dimensions)

Miguel also quickly finds out that Aph has basically been fighting blind as a bat, she wears glasses on her daily life another perk she didn't get from the spider, but she didn't know how to add the graduation that her glasses have to her mask so she had been fighting blind.

Miguel finds out by seeing her fight, seeing how she normally overshots her hits, when he finds out he berates her but quickly fixes the problem and updates her mask.

Aph makes sure Miguel takes proper breaks and often brings him food from the cafeteria or pastries she makes herself.

She hangs out with him a lot on his lab since she doesn't like that he is cooped up there with no one to talk to or even just have in his presence.

After a heart to heart and Aph basically confessing her feelings to Miguel after she almost died , they get together and Miguel gives Aph a promise ring that like her earrings stabilizes her without the need of the watch.

They call each other mi luna y mi sol.

When the events of ATSV happen, Aph is reluctant to go to Miles' side, but she knows that the person she once knew as her partner is doing something wrong that he'll eventually regret.

She eventually goes back to Miguel after an apology to Miles and him fixing everything up.

In the future Miguel and Aph have four children including Didi, they had difficulties having them surprisingly nor because of the difference in dimensions but because both their genetics are FUCKED in opposite ways, at first they thought they would have none, then oldest biological daughter, Minerva, Minny for short came along after they almost gave up, eventually four years later they had Javier, Javi, who was a very sickly boy so they thought they would never have another one because the other two were already a fucking miracle, and finally six years later when Aph is 38 they have Mateo, the youngest and quite literally their oops baby since Miguel is 47 by then lmao.

AND THAT'S IT! That's Aph's story and design at least for this post, I'll post more about her story and drawings as I make them, I'll also be posting old ones that are in my procreate, mainly with Miguel.

And one last thing props to my friend who made the design of Aph's logo on her bow! Originally she wouldn't have one since I didn't know where to put it but my friend came through, though they didn't want to be tagged I still want to credit them in some way!

Tag list: @sweetimpurity @sweetimpurityloves @bluemadnessstuff

#spidersona #across the spiderverse #magical girl #Aph Stella #miguel x oc #miguel o'hara #miguelito #miguelon #mi solecito #StarFangs #loreeeeeee #oc lore #my oc art #atsv #spiderman 2099 #shoujo #Aph's Art☆#miguel o'hara x spidersona

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lulublack90 · 8 months

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Prompt 26 - Delivery

@jegulus-microfic January 26 Word count 962

Previous part First part

It had been about a month since that first dinner. James remembered it fondly. The look on Sirius’s face when they walked back into the kitchen. He’d choked on his beer and had to be thumped on the back by Remus to get his breath back.

“You had better not have defiled my bathroom!” He coughed, wiping his mouth on a paper napkin.

“Ask me no questions, and I’ll tell you no lies.” Regulus had teased. “And I think you’ll find it’s my bathroom.” That was the night Sirius’s head had nearly exploded.

Since then, James and Regulus had spent nearly every free minute together. Regulus had all but moved in. His excuse for not going home was to give Sirius and Remus some time for themselves.

“That and Sirius is a screamer. There are only so many times I can hear him getting off before I’m jabbing a pencil in my ear.” Regulus had grimaced when James asked why he hadn’t been home in a week. James hadn’t minded, not really. They got along so well. He still didn’t understand why it had taken him so long to notice Regulus. He supposed it was because he’d always seen him as Sirius’s little brother. Well, now he was Sirius’s little brother and the man who did unspeakable things to him.

He hadn’t broached the subject of labels. He wasn’t sure Regulus would respond well to being called his boyfriend. He thought he’d leave it for a bit and see where they went before he scared him off. As far as he knew, Regulus had never had a serious relationship, just a few dalliances here and there.

James was busy in the kitchen making dinner. Nothing special, just pasta and sauce and a ton of grated cheddar cheese for him and a block of Parmesan for Regulus. —“Heathen.” Regulus had called him the first time they’d had pasta.— When there was a soft knock at the door. He put down the wooden spoon he’d been using to stir the pasta sauce and went to answer it.

Regulus was standing on the doormat, bottle of wine in hand.

“I heard a sexy dark-haired Adonis was living here.” He said as his eyes ran up and down James’s person, taking in the bikini-clad headless lady’s body printed on the apron he was wearing. “But clearly, that information was incorrect.” He bit his bottom lip to keep from laughing.

“Oh, shut up and get in. Dinners nearly ready.” James huffed, turning his back on Regulus and returned to the kitchen to check that his sauce wasn’t burning.

Regulus came up behind him and wrapped his arms around him as he reached up on his tiptoes to kiss James’s neck. James tilted his head to the side to allow Regulus’s mouth more access. He moaned gently as Regulus sucked little marks into the delicate skin.

“Reg, dinner will be spoilt if you continue.” He groaned, knowing exactly where this was going. Regulus moved to the other side of James’s neck and began sucking and kissing there as well.

James’s breathing became ragged. “Reg,” He whined as he pathetically stirred the bubbling pan.

The timer on James’s phone went off, startling Regulus and giving James a second to clear his head. “You,” He growled, brandishing the dripping wooden spoon. “Sit down and behave.” He waited until Regulus did as he was told and began serving their dinner.

They were tidying up the used plates when there was a knock at the door. James went to answer it, Regulus following closely after.

“Hey, dickhead. I’ve bought you some clean clothes seeing as you haven’t been home in a week. Oh, and you had a delivery this morning. It was signed for, with the angry beeps and everything.” Sirius stood in the doorway holding out an A4 packet. It was thick and looked important. Regulus froze as he stared at it. Sirius wiggled it in front of him. “Earth to Reggie. Come in Reggie—Oi Regulus!” James put a hand on Regulus’s shoulder, snapping him out of his stupor.

With shaking hands, Regulus carefully took the packet from Sirius and, without a word, walked past James into the office, shutting the door behind him.

“Do you know what’s in that?” James asked, looking confusedly at the closed door.

“No idea.” Sirius shrugged. “Gonna invite me in for a cuppa then? Instead of leaving me standing out in the cold.”

“Huh? Oh, sorry, yeah, sure, come in.” James moved aside, letting Sirius pass.

They left Regulus alone. He’d come and tell them what was up when he was ready. James made him a cup of tea anyway.

It took Regulus over half an hour to emerge from James’s office, the now open packet still in his hands.

He sat down at the kitchen table opposite James. James hurriedly made a fresh cup of tea and slid it across the table. Sirius pulled a hip flask out of his pocket and poured a liberal amount of whisky into the tea.

They sat and waited in silence. Finally, Regulus took a sip from his scalding tea and inhaled loudly.

“That was a job offer for my dream job.” He told them, his voice quiet and not at all excited.

“Wow, that’s amazing, Regulus, congratulations.” James beamed at him, his eyes crinkling at what he thought was good news. Sirius, on the other hand, knew his brother better.

“What’s up, Reg?” He said, watching his brother’s reactions through narrowed eyes.

“It’s a three-year contract.” He told them, swallowing audibly.

“So, what’s the problem?” James was worried now, cottoning on to the tension that had taken over Regulus’s body.

“In New York,” Regulus said almost apologetically. All the air escaped out of James’s body.

“Oh…”

Next part

#January 26 #jegulus #jegulus microfic #james potter #regulus black #james fleamont potter #regulus arcturus black #regulus and james #james x regulus #regulus x james #sirius black #remus lupin #delivery

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lady-rose-moon · 7 months

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Wildest Dreams || Chapter One ||

A/N: hello everybody, welcome to chapter one, finally! I have to be honest, the original update day for this was Friday but I had SO MUCH to deal with like my accommodation for Uni next year, money being a bit tight, etc! But yeah, I am looking forward to you reading this chapter, it's only small but it expands the world! Enjoy! ^-^

↣ MASTERLIST

You were in your paradise again, the same golden castle, same beautiful sky and grass softer and richer than your worlds. Yet there was one difference, the man you’d met a month ago was there now, he had been for two weeks. No explanation, just the guy you’d met because you almost died appearing in your dreams. He wasn’t wearing his suit, however. No, he was wearing armour that you knew wasn’t from any time period you’d ever studied about.

His eyes were the same emerald green, the love in them shining as his gaze was always fixed on you. He had first appeared in a window at the door to the garden of your dreams. In the next few days, the door beside the window inched open and he passed through. Now, he was standing at the beautiful cherry blossom tree just a bit in front of you. He didn’t seem threatening, nor did he ever speak to you, he just watched. Quiet. Ever the understanding soul through the days where you forced yourself to sleep just to retreat to this paradise to rid yourself of the worry of the world.

You hadn’t anticipated he would feel so comforting even from a distance. Just him being in this paradise with you eased your stress after a long day or at night when you’d finally return here. He wasn’t a threat, you somehow knew he would never hurt you.

December, January and February came and passed, uneventful, mundane days that blurred into one, saved only by your little paradise. You hadn’t seen the man since that fateful encounter that first day. Three months. Three. He was closer in your dream now but far from you in the waking world.

Coincidence, you assumed after the first month, waiting just that little bit longer at the crossing for the familiar face of the man.

Perhaps he was merely visiting, you realised a month later as you stood on the street where you’d met him the second time.

Why am I this bothered about a man I met twice anyway? You pondered for the whole third month.

Today marks three months since you’d met the man. You’d never even gotten his name, you just assumed he was new to the neighbourhood and your shenanigans would occur every day but your foolish hope broke after the first two weeks.

You dragged yourself through your routine again, setting off into the late February weather; rain. Luckily, you’d remembered your umbrella this time and smiled at your luck before setting off through the rain toward your favourite coffee shop. You paid attention this time, lingering glances at every person’s face that was nicely dressed, desperately hoping to see him again. You didn’t understand why he mattered so much to you but you’d find out somehow.

The bell chimed above the door to the coffee shop as you entered, gazing down at your phone to check how long until your shift before you hit a hard chest and a burning pain lit up across your arms and chest. You gasped at the pain and jumped back, your white blouse stained with coffee. “Hey! Watch it next… time…” you began before trailing off, meeting the eyes of the same man you’d been desperately searching for through the months. His eyes were concerned but it was as if time around the two of you had stopped, giving you this moment.

“Shit, forgive me,” the man cursed, pulling you aside and pulling a handkerchief out of his suit jacket pocket. He began to try and dry your shirt but you knew that the stain wouldn’t come out like that, if at all. “Suppose I am the clumsy one this time,” he joked, a slight grin overtaking his concerned frown.

“Suppose so,” you responded timidly before sighing and holding his wrist, stopping his efforts of drying your shirt. “I’ll just go home and change it, it’s no worry,” you responded with a soft smile, even though you knew that your very stereotypical corporate boss would very stereotypically bunk your pay.

The man pursed his lips and raised an eyebrow questioningly, “do you have something to cover yourself with? I’m afraid walking back to your apartment with a sopping blouse and clearly visible bra would warrant… unwanted attention.”

The way the man spoke sounded so elegant, the kind of language that you’d expect from a gentleman of the 1900s not the boys that roamed the world these days, it shocked you even more. However, what almost caused your brain to malfunction was when the man gently took your hand and guided you into the disabled bathroom, locking the door behind you two before unbuttoning his green waistcoat and then his shirt.

“Woah, woah, woah!” you yelled, your eyes widening in shock as the man’s bare chest was revealed to you, “I barely know you, sir! At least take me out on a date first!”

The man threw his head back and laughed before shaking his head and offering you his white shirt. “You misunderstand, this is for you, at least until you finish the day,” he informed you, his shoulders still quivering with laughter, “I shall walk you to your building then be back when you finish to walk you home. After that, you can give me my shirt back. Or keep it.” He added with a wink at the end before turning his back without being prompted to keep your modesty, sliding on the waistcoat as he did.

You stared at the shirt in your hand and wasted no time changing into it, sighing in relief at the feeling of dry fabric against your skin. “Thank you,” you muttered before adding, “you can turn around now.”

The man turned and you watched as a war of emotions flew across his face before he pulled on a smile and nodded. “Then let us depart,” he smiled and guided you out of the bathroom, out of the shop and onto the street.

As he walked you to work, the silence between the both of you wasn’t tense, it wasn’t awkward. It felt… right. Comforting. This man had done a good deed, definitely, but he was going the whole mile, not putting in just the required amount of care.

When you got to your work building, it almost seemed wrong to leave the man’s side but you waved to him and walked inside.

The man stayed on the path outside the building for a few more minutes. Watching until your form had truly disappeared within the concrete building before conjuring himself a new shirt in a flurry of green and walking away, waving his hand once again with a small, sad smile on his lips.

When you got to your desk, you discovered your favourite beverage waiting for you, piping hot beside your desk with a note.

You forgot your drink this morning.

Have a good day.

~ L

You pondered the question of how the man – L – had gotten your drink, got to your desk and left before you ever reached the floor for the rest of the day.

A/N(2)- okay yeah this was REALLY small, I'm so sorry! But I hope you enjoyed :)

Regular tags:

@lokisgoodgirl @lokisninerealms @slpnbty2001 @jennyggggrrr @hahaha12123445 @ozymdias @holdmytesseract @itsybitchylittlewitchy @lovingchoices14 @xorpsbane @huntress-artemiss @muddyorbs @nerdy-fangirl-65 @lonadane @silverfire475 @chantsdemarins @iamsherlocked1479 @kittiowolf210 @just-someone11 @stupidthoughtsinwriting @loki-laufeyson-1054 @fictive-sl0th @coldnique @anukulee @eleniblue @asgards-princess-of-mischief

Fic Tags

@jaidenhawke @crimson25 @buttercupcookies-blog @loz-3 @qalijahbydior @isimpforloki @fournat @chantsdemarins @izka8520

#loki #loki x reader #loki laufeyson #tom hiddleston #loki fluff #loki laufeyson x reader #mcu loki #reblog please #tom hiddleston character x reader #loki hurt/comfort #loki x you

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obsessedwithtoomanythings · 1 year

Text

The Terrifying Ordeal of Falling in Love with Leon Kennedy

CHAPTER 1

Pairing: Leon Kennedy x Reader (female reader)

Series Warnings: Minor injuries, Leon teases reader a lot, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pining, Drinking, Drinking followed by driving, DO NOT DO THAT THIS IS FICTION, Anxiety, Leon S. Kennedy has PTSD, Leon has an anxiety attack, Anxiety Attacks, Swearing, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Nightmares, Leon S. Kennedy has Nightmares, Cuddling & Snuggling, Probably incorrect medical talk, Strangulation in one tiny little scene, Reader's brother was a cop who was KIA, Slow Burn, Slow Build, Grief/Mourning, Christmas Fluff, Mistletoe, Fluff and Smut, Eventual Smut, Arguing, Love Confessions, Looking for Alaska is mentioned, Inconvenient Love Confessions, Penis In Vagina Sex, Dirty Talk, Dirty Thoughts, Oral Sex, Cunnilingus, Leon loves eating Pussy change my mind, Shower Makeout, romantic smut, Desperate Leon S. Kennedy, They are both desperate for each other tbh, They say I love you as they come, Scar Kissing, Enthusiastic Consent, Always pee after sex, UTI PREVENTION, POV First Person, No use of Y/N

Words: 1.6K

A/N: Alright, this took MONTHS. Big thanks for @chaosandbubbles for always validating my writing.

Masterlist

January 2004

Walls of insincerity, shifting eyes and vacancy

Vanished when I saw your face

All I can say is, it was enchanting to meet you

-Enchanted, Taylor Swift

“Hey hon, want you to take this one,” Dr. Dalton says, a hint of pride in his voice as he pokes his spikey ginger hair in through our shared office space. I glance up, confused for a minute and he chuckles at the sight, coming into the room leisurely, his stride confident and collected. The clipboard is clasped between his fingers as he offers it to me with a smile. “I want to see how you do without me looming over your shoulder and breathing down your neck.” I feel my eyes practically bulge out of my head. “Relax. The guy’s in here pretty regularly, he’s decent. He won’t bite,” he adds, pushing it into my shaking hands as I stand. He tacks in a barely audible “Probably.”

“A-Are you sure?” I mumble, words practically being choked out.

“Trust me. You’re ready.” His hand lands on my shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Besides, if he starts convulsing or salivating at the mouth, I’ll be right in here.” I breathe a deep sigh, attempting to bury the anxiety that swirls through my mind by retying my hair into its almost-too-tight ponytail. Spinning on my heel, I walk into the sterile white room. Why they don’t paint these rooms to be more inviting, I will never understand.

The lavender diffuser does little to cover the overwhelming scent of antiseptic and bleach, my nose scrunching unconsciously as I glance down at the clipboard in my hands, which are still trembling.

“Glad I’m not the only one who hates the way it smells in here.” The voice that speaks is deeper, and I jump a little at the suddenness of the unexpected sound. Finding the source is easy, and my stomach flips when I see him sitting in the blue plastic chair.

Dark tee shirt clinging to defined muscles, the fabric stretching to accommodate the flex as his arms are crossed across a broad chest, black pants a little less tight but still leaving no question of his strength and stature. His legs are outstretched in front of him, crossed at the ankles leisurely. His stringy blonde hair is curtaining over his cheekbone, not quite covering the obvious blue of his eyes. The lingering sensation of those eyes trained on me makes me feel exposed, like a bug preparing for dissection, but I shake the feeling off.

“You’d think I’d be used to it by now, but I can’t seem to get over it,” I say, glancing down at the clipboard once again, just long enough to get his name. “Do you wanna come sit over on the exam table so I can get a good look at you, Agent Kennedy?” I ask, watching as his eyebrows raise with a small smirk appearing on his lips. I quickly tumble over more words. “I mean, a good look at your injuries, not you specifically. I mean, not that you’re not…” I take a shaky breath before laughing slightly at myself. “I’m gonna quit while I’m ahead.” He chuckles to himself, almost silently, like he was trying to conceal it before standing and following me to the table. The clipboard hits the table with a crisp clang before I turn to the agent now seated on a slightly softer plastic and crinkly paper.

“I hate being in here, but Hunnigan insisted on it this time,” he explains, fingers clasped together, resting in his lap. It’s hard not to notice the way his eyes dart around the room at the smallest sounds; Dalton stapling something in the office, the ding of the elevator, even the wheels of some kind of cart out in the hallway causes his muscles to tense almost painfully.

“Any reason why?” I ask, grabbing two blue nitrile gloves from the box labeled with a tiny little ‘S’ while trying to keep my eyes on him. He shrugs.

“My right shoulder took a hit, and I think a couple of my ribs are broken.” It’s a start. I move toward him, moving slowly enough that he is able to predict my motions. No need to put him more on edge than he clearly already is.

“Can I have you remove your shirt so I can take a look at the shoulder?” I ask innocently. “I can turn aro-” I practically choke on the rest of the words as his arms cross over his chest before gripping the hem of the fabric and easily removing it. He sets it down next to his thigh on the makeshift bed. A light chuckle pierces my ears and I look away from the black and blue patches of bruises that are smattered across his ribcage.

“You’re looking like you’ve never seen a guy without his shirt on.” The tone of his voice is cocky, pride wafting off of him in waves. Or maybe that’s the sweat.

“That’s not why I was surprised,” I admit, walking over to remove an ice pack from the freezer before tossing it to him, which he catches easily. “Press that to your ribs, please, Agent Kennedy.” It has a ‘please’ tacked on, but the man can clearly tell that it wasn’t a request. He listens, hissing at the chill on his skin as I move around to look at his shoulder. Asking him to turn away from my frame, I take a small breath at finally being released from his intense gaze. The shoulder is much worse than I thought, something bloody hidden under some crude gauze pads secured with medical tape. “I’m gonna remove this gauze.” He nods, his hair bobbing slightly at the movement.

“Can I ask what did this?” I question, tenderly attempting to peel the gauze off with as little pain as possible, but the skin has taken to sticking to it cause of the dried blood. I feel him tense slightly at the sensation.

“That’s… classified.” Mumbled words barely audible. I nod in understanding, despite knowing he can’t actually see it. I drop the piss-poor patch job onto the table, frustration rising. There is a gash the size of my forearm sunken into the light skin there. “Did they disinfect this?” He shrugs noncommittally with his left shoulder. I sigh, irritated at his lack of communication. This is his body. Why does it seem like he’d rather be anywhere else?

“I’ve never seen you in here. Are you new?” He asks, making small talk to fill the blatantly uncomfortable silence.

“Yeah, just started a few weeks ago. Dr. Dalton wanted me to take care of this on my own,” I explain and then, giving him fair warning before I gently pour some disinfectant on the wound. Another hiss. A mumbled apology.

“Ah, so I’m your first victim?” He asks with a smile, his head cocking to the side to make brief eye contact. A poor attempt at an evil laugh leaves my lips in response, cheeks dusting pink at the smile I receive.

“Yes. How does it feel, knowing your name will live in infamy once I’m caught?” I ask, a teasing lithe in my tone. He scoffs, but I can still see the small smile he wears.

“Just make it quick, yeah? I won’t even plead for my life.” The words are meant to be a joke, and deep down, I know that. But the way he says it? It’s almost like he actually wants that. I give my head a slight shake to clear the thought as I tenderly place a softer gauze over the gash before securing it, the wrapping going over the top of his shoulder and under his armpit a few times. I pat his shoulder gently before walking around in front of him again, his eyes finding mine quickly.

“I have good news, Agent. You’ll make it.”

“Yeah? Not gonna keel over?” He asks, gesturing to his shirt. I nod, signaling to him that he is free to put it back on.

“Nope.” I pause, mind running with the desire to help. If he’ll let me. “Can I ask you something?” His gaze returns to me after tugging the fabric back down, watching as it settles comfortably over his form.

“Sure.”

“Do you wanna talk to Dr. Dalton about any kind of therapy or medication? I couldn’t help but notice how on edge-”

“It’s cause I just got back. The overactive perception fades after a bit. I’m fine.” The softness of his eyes has faded, turning into a brick wall. Or a dam, to hold it all in.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to overstep. I was just trying to he-”

“Am I good to go?” The tone in his voice has shifted, cold and distant, all sources of the smiles I saw earlier gone. I nod mutely, handing him a form and a pen to sign the paper with. Then the pen scratches across the paper roughly before he hands it back, and I’m finding it impossible to meet his eyes, despite his earlier behavior of not looking anywhere but at me. He walks toward the exit, and I can hear his boots thudding against the tiled floor.

“You did good.” I turn quickly toward the door at hearing his voice again.

“Sorry?” My voice is quieter than intended, almost making it sound like I’m afraid. Agent Kennedy’s head tilts, looking over his shoulder, no smile, just looking.

“You did a good job. You took good care of your first victim.” For a moment, and only a moment, I see a glimmer of a smirk flit across his mouth before he’s gone, the echo of his boots practically filling my ears as he makes his way down the hallway.

Leon: @house-of-kolchek @bonnibuckets @athanasia-day @muffimtv Everything: @chaosandbubbles @kassiekolchek22 @akiramoon8088

#leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon x reader #resident evil fanfiction #leon kennedy smut

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shawnxstyles · 2 years

Note

Kk so it 2 in the morning and I’m horny so fem reader x tom Holland or Nathan Drake which ever you prefer where tom/ Nathan is always cocky in public and reader is shy and quiet but In bed the opposite and reader is like really dominant and stuff and Tom/Nathan is kinda like babyish idk only if your ok with it tho tyyyyy

talkative

warnings: smut; (unprotected sex, cockwarming, dirty talk), fluff, and language

note: i wrote this very fast because i feel bad for procrastinating my other writings :) also, i’m not a huge fan of sub!male but i tried it anyway (probably won’t do again)

(slight) sub!ceo!tom x (slight) dom!reader

—

“we made it official in january,” tom chats with his co-worker, harrison, and his wife that are seated across the table from you. tom squeezes your hand on the white-cloth table. tonight was a simple dinner with tom’s best employee who has been working with him for years. they grew to be great friends over time.

“you always did know how to close a deal,” both men share a hearty laugh while you smile softly at tom. he returns a smile graciously, making your chest bubble with love.

even months after the wedding, that honeymoon feeling never faded away. every day with tom was like a dream. you couldn’t have asked for anyone or anything else.

“well, you two make just the loveliest pair,” harrison’s wife compliments with a fond expression. yours and tom’s smiles deepen with love and warmth as you stare into each other’s eyes.

“we do, don’t we, darling?” tom puts an arm around your shoulders and pulls you in for a forehead kiss. a heated rush runs through your head at the action. you were never good at pda; it always made you flushed and you couldn’t hide how it affected you.

you talked little throughout the rest of the dinner. sure, if someone asked you a question or two you’d answer, but you were never the most talkative. you grew up a listener, curious to hear what others had to say. however, when it was just you and tom, you were more open and detailed when you spoke.

especially when it came to the bedroom. you didn’t know you were that talkative until you met tom. well, until you had sex with tom.

it was freeing and comforting to know that there was always someone who was just as curious as you. so, out of curiosity, you married him.

even with separate chairs, you leaned close into tom’s side as the night continued. your hands intertwined under the table, resting on your smooth legs. tom would rub reassuring circles over your knuckles and occasionally kiss your temple to remind you that he was right there. his little actions of care was something that you not only craved but grew to need.

a familiar, fuzzy feeling burned in your lower stomach that you had to endure until you went home.

when the dinner ended, you all said your polite goodbyes and shared charming smiles. tom and you walked toward the car and headed home.

—

as tom and you got ready for bed, your need for him was growing uncomfortable.

“tom.”

“yes, baby?”

“i need you.”

with the simplest words, you were crawling over tom’s lap in an instant. your silk nightgown rose to your hips as your legs spread over his hard bulge underneath his boxers.

“you’re already hard?” your hands rested on his muscular shoulders as you rolled your hips in a circular motion. tom groaned and put his hands on your hips to guide you. “poor tommy.”

“‘course i am. looked fucking gorgeous in that dress tonight,” he huffed out as your movements got faster. “fuck. need to be inside you.”

“why should i let you?” you teasingly questioned as you pulled down the delicate straps of your gown, revealing your pebbled nipples. licking your lips, you stopped rolling your hips until tom gave you an answer. he puffed out, irritated at how much control you have over him.

“i waited all night. talked to harry and madeline the whole time so i wouldn’t be too tempted to take you in the bathroom stall,” tom negotiated breathlessly.

“hmm. i guess that’s valid enough,” you shifted your panties to the side while tom hastingly slid down his boxers. his eagerness to be with you always caused a smug smile on your face. you were just as eager, but way better at hiding it clearly.

you rubbed your arousal against his cock, edging you both. without wasting any more time, you lifted your body up and angled his cock deep inside of you. you both hiss at the feeling as if you’ve never been together. but your bodies knew each other more than anyone else you knew.

his smooth, rough hands caress your sides as you pick up your pace. your breasts bounce as both of your moans collide in the heated air. your hands crawl around his neck and dig into his scalp. your cunt squeezes his cock causing him to whimper with a rough bite of his lips.

“k-kiss me,” tom moans with his head moving loosely.

“what, no ‘please’?”

“baby, please fucking kiss me,” his fingers twist your nipples, nearly stealing all your words from you. you bite your lip at the pinch of pain, leaning into his touch.

“that’s more like it.”

your lips crash together in a burning kiss. the fire between you two never seemed to dwindle, and you both melted together as if you were one. your hips never ruined their accelerated pace, even when tom began to thrust up into you.

the additional movement had you both moaning and groaning desperately against each other’s mouths. too immersed in tom’s lips, you were blind to notice tom slipping his hand between you both. he slyly rubs your throbbing clit, getting you closer to your orgasm.

sweat dampened at your foreheads while your legs burned from the vertical repetition. you felt tom’s cock twitch inside of you, alerting you that he was very close.

“come inside of me. i need your cum in me, tommy,” you encouragingly demanded in shaky breaths. obeying, tom releases inside of you, coating your walls.

“come with me, darling,” tom directed. you clutch around his length, squeezing everything out of him. the sensation of his fingers and his orgasm have you coming right soon after. he guides your hips as you ride out your blissful highs together.

all that can be heard are your panting breaths and your racing hearts as your forehead falls onto his shoulder. tom caresses and rubs your back, cock still sitting warm inside of you. neither of you make any movements, too afraid to ruin the euphoric experience. you both close your eyes, but know better than to fall asleep like this. you both know you’d feel sore and achy if you didn’t lay down on the bed.

but you wanted his cock to stay warm and tucked into you forever.

“c’mon, darling, let’s go to sleep,” tom insists, slowly lifting you up.

“but i want you in me,” you whine, not caring how dramatic you may sound. tom reassures you that he’ll slide back inside of you once you’re lying down.

tom’s body disconnects from yours and you feel a wrath of coldness flood your body. you remove your panties completely and discard them somewhere across your bedroom floor.

once you’re laying down comfortably, tom fulfills his promise and gently slides back into you. you hum at the satisfying thickness and fullness that fills you. you can’t help but rub your ass into him, causing him to hiss from behind you.

“goodnight, you minx,” tom tucks your hair to the side and kisses your cheek lovingly.

“goodnight,” you smile, all warm and cozy.

it’s easy to fall asleep when you’re entwined with the love of your life.

—

tags: @lnmp89 @crybabyddl @pretty-npeach @marine-mayday @aerangi @justanotherpasserby-blog @tinafuentes @moniffazictress11 @eywaheardyou @alwaysclassyeagle @mrstealuregirl @bisexual-desi @sherlockstrangewolf @madsttx @graywrites20 @bradtomlovesya

crossed out= not able to tag

#shawnxstyles #tom holland #tom holland smut #tom holland fan fiction #tom holland fan fics #tom holland fanfic #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you

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snail-eggs · 3 months

Text

Ivy

synopsis: The way he's looking at her makes her sick. a/n: rahh my favorite toxicos finally have a piece for them that I'm really proud of.

read on ao3 | divider by @/cafekitsune

[July 2006]

The summer wants to go out with a bang. A new record temperature reached every day. It's suffocating. Xixi feels a weight on her chest now as she breathes, leaning on Johnny’s car. He’s pumping gas and the sun is going down. She hopes for an evening breeze that she knows she won’t get. Hair sticking to the back of her neck, she steals a glance at him. Then steals another.

He catches her. But she doesn’t look away—Xixi never looks away. Especially not from him. They hold each other’s gaze. Stare as the numbers on the pump go up and up.

Johnny has a sort of ‘what’ look on his face. She stares, he narrows his eyes. “We gonna fight? What are you starin’ at?”

“I can’t look at you?”

“Oh, so you just wanna look at me.”

“No.” She wants a cigarette. “No. Go fuck yourself.” Needs it, actually. More than breathing right now. He raises his brows at her, rolls his eyes. Takes the nozzle out and puts it back into the pump. Xixi isn’t sure why she said that. But she doesn’t feel like taking it back. Instead she lets it hang there—they both do.

And then he laughs. And she laughs too right after him. It's quick to descend into hysterics—her stomach tenses like her insides are twisting and falling in on themselves all at once, there are tears in the corners of her eyes. It feels good. Almost a release of sorts.

She watches him through tears as he takes off his glasses and pinches the bridge of his nose, half wheezing. They gasp for air at the same time. A single breath.

“You’re such a dick, Xixi, god .” It makes her laugh harder—because he’s right. She is a dick, Xixi can’t remember having ever not been a dick. But you can’t teach an old dog new tricks. Especially when she’s not looking to learn any.

Still through giggles, she manages a small, choked “Yeah” in agreement. “Yeah, I know.”

Johnny extends his arm in her direction, glasses still off and she can see the exact brown of his eyes even from this far. “C’mere.” He pulls her into his side and she slides into him seamlessly. Seamlessly like she’s done so many times before. The warmth permeating his clothes is different from the miserable heat around them. So different. Xixi would dive into the depths of it, burn herself alive.

Maybe that’s the part of this strange thing they have going on that scares her the most. The all-encompassing need of it all. For closeness, she supposes.

She starts to draw away when he does it. When he presses his lips tenderly to the top of her head. Xixi freezes. Trapped stiff in that same warmth but suddenly she wants nothing to do with it. She’s never let him get so close in public. Why exactly, she doesn’t know. Hasn’t been able to give Johnny an answer the million times he’s asked—the one time he begged.

Looking up at him, Xixi isn’t sure what she sees. Feels. There’s dread pooling somewhere. Always is. But she feels it more now as she stares into his eyes.

[January 2007]

The way he’s looking at her makes her sick. There’s a tenderness in his eyes so warm, it dissipates the biting chill of January around them. For a second, she earnestly thinks he’s about to say it. Those words she’s been dreading—that god for-fucking-saken I love you. It makes her sicker. It feels wrong. She’s seeing him now with freshly sober eyes—seeing this mess between them for what it really is. And in a Freckle Bitch’s parking lot, there’s a moment of clarity. The sign stares down at her, bright and alive. Like a spirit—an angel. It's funny, actually but she’s not laughing. Not now that she knows what needs to be done.

Sitting on the trunk of a car—whose it is, neither of them knows nor do they particularly care—she turns her face away from him. A physical, bone-deep nausea seeps into her. She pushes him away.

“What are we doing?” She’s been asking herself that for months. “Like, seriously—what is this?”

Johnny’s looking at her now like she’s grown two heads. “What’s what ?”

“Fucking this. I mean, what are we doing here?”

“You wanted me to take you to Freckle Bi-”

“Not that! Jesus, Johnny, you know it's not that. You’re not dumb.”

All she can see now is Aisha reflected in his eyes, all alone. Trapped in her house with no one. No one but him. But she hasn’t had him in months. Xixi hops off the trunk. Paces. Guilt doesn’t go over well with her, not one bit. She puts both her hands to her forehead as she goes back and forth over the neighboring parking spaces. Xixi could hate him now. Hates herself, too.

“Like, this. Us. You know this isn’t going anywhere, man. You know it, I know it.” He stares at her. Lips parted, hands limp at his sides. Speechless. “I mean, did you really think we were gonna, like, live happily ever after? Fall in love? ”

“You’re high.”

“I’m not hi-”

“No, you gotta be fuckin’ high because what the fuck are you talking about right now, Xixi? We were sitting here, you were fine two minutes ago! Happily ever after? Who even said that?”

“Nobody did, dumbass.”

“I thought I wasn’t dumb.”

“Fuck you. Listen to me. This,” she motions back and forth in the space between them. “Is not worth it. This shit won’t go anywhere.”

“How do you know?”

“We gonna get married? Get old together?”

“I mean,” he reaches up to pass a hand over his face. Inhales once deeply and exhales hard. “Is that what you want?”

“No! No this isn’t about what I want, dickhead. It's what you need to do.”

“Jesus Christ, Xixi—what the fuck is your problem?”

“You tell me.”

Johnny opens his mouth to speak. Repeatedly, but he can’t seem to grasp at the words. He’s looking at her straight in the eyes like he’s trying to figure her out and it's tinged with a certain… something that Xixi can’t place. But then she realizes she’s seen it before a million times. Just never on him.

Disappointment.

It drives a dagger in between her ribs and twists. Really fucking hurts. Xixi crosses her arms, holding them tight against herself. Sniffles. “You ditched Aisha—you fucking ditched her. After what she did for you. She died for you—for your dumbass plan and then you just ditched her!”

“You mean the plan got her out of that contract. Fuck you.” It's his turn to look away from her now.

“Ain’t shit to be proud of, dick.”

“It's kinda funny. You throwin’ all this shit in my face, cause if we’re lookin’ at the score here, you’re the one with the girlfriend who’s dead for real.” All the air comes out of Xixi’s lungs at once when he says it. She works her jaw, bites her tongue. His face is blurry through tears. She won’t blink. Xixi had confided in him, trusted him— really trusted him.

Johnny puts his hands out between the two of them, palms facing her. She’s looking at him with a vitriol he’s never seen. Not towards him, at least. Suddenly, Xixi feels keenly aware of those around them. The people in the drive thru, the others dining on tables. She feels more naked now than she ever has.

His voice drops down to a whisper, words spoken so only they can hear, “I’m not gonna fight with you here,” Johnny grabs both her shoulders and it burns where he touches her. “I’ll take you home, c’mon.”

“I don’t wanna go home.”

“Get in the car, I won’t leave you here.”

“Do you love her?” He sighs, defeated. Puts his hands on his hips and paces. They won’t be going anywhere now—not until he answers.

“I don’t fuckin’ know! Yes. Maybe—does it even matter?”

“And what about me?”

His mouth opens then closes, he looks around half helpless. “What do you want me to say?”

“I don’t want you to say anything.” Xixi crosses her arms, takes a few steps back. “I want you to make up your mind. You really wanna keep running around with me, hiding from everybody?”

“Xixi, I kept asking you. I asked you every day why we were hiding. You’re the one who wanted to keep doing this, not me.”

“So don’t hide anymore. Call her.”

She watches him go up to the car, lean on the trunk where she was sitting just minutes before. He won’t look at her—she gets it. Xixi shifts her weight from foot to foot, waiting, praying that he looks back up at her. Keeps fighting and maybe they’ll fight their way out of this. But he won’t. Johnny only nods solemnly. Grabs his keys out of his pocket and walks over to his car only a few spots away.

Until she hears the car’s engine turn over, she half expects him to get out. Any other day, he’d want to have the last word. Instead, she watches as he pulls out of the parking lot and drives off down the street without a second glance. Xixi touches a hand to her chest, feels for the chain there that he had spontaneously given her months and months ago. From around his neck to hers. It’s so cold now.

#carrie.fics #saints row #saints row fanfiction #bossgat #series: sainthood and martyrdom

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here2bbtstrash · 2 years

Text

bts doing no nut november - explicit

been a minute since we did a headcanons post huh!!!! and this felt ~seasonally appropriate~ 🤭 i actually discussed this a million years ago w my hyungline chat and the lovely @goodsoop - thanks for always feeding my insane bts brainrot, love y'all 😩 (and i'm really just considering this as no fap/not discussing or thinking abt partnered sex here, just fyi~)

knj: loses on day 1. this virgo has his masturbation routine down, so engrained as a part of his daily life, that on november first he doesn't even realize what day it is. he just busts a fat nut to one of his very favorite porn videos (downloaded to his computer ofc) without thinking twice about it, and it's only as he's cleaning up the mess that he's like.... fuuuuuuck.... i knew i was forgetting something 🤦‍♂️

ksj: doesn't do it out of protest OR reluctantly agrees but then quits on day 1. y'all simply are not gonna tell this man what to do! he comes when he wants to come dammit! his dongsaengs might be able to convince him to "say" he'll do it, but the minute he actually wants to jerk off, the competition is over lmao. there's not even any good reason why he should hold it in - besides, isn't that bad for you??? unhealthy??? this game is stupid and he doesn't wanna play 😤

myg: has no trouble not coming for 30 days, could probably win on accident. i feel the agust d hoes coming to fight me about this one but i'm sorry 🤷‍♀️ imo yoongs is a low libido guy!!! and you can't change my mind!!!!! make your own post lol! imo he'd rather save it for when he's with a partner, and besides, he's obviously too busy working or sleeping or watching cat videos. plus it's just so much effort and he hates having to deal with the mess after. he's fine with it, homie probably ends up in no-nut january without even really meaning to 🥱

jhs: wins, but it's a struggle. we all know he's got that serious business 'dance teacher hobi' scary amount of self control.... but eventually his ~urges~ do get pretty strong and hard (lol) to ignore. i can see hoseok being one to try and keep himself busy to keep the horny thoughts away 🤣 his big-ass closet is getting reorganized, new choreo is getting learned for no reason, and if you see him spam a ton of selfies on instagram, it's cause he's trying to distract himself 🤪

pjm: tries and absolutely loses. mini is sooooo physical and touchy i just don't see this one working out for him. in the beginning of the month i think he feels like it's pretty easy and he wants to do good and get praised by the other members, but midway through november he gets pretty desperate. he tells himself it's not really masturbating if he just humps against the bed and doesn't finish, but then one thing leads to another and it just.... feels too good to stop 🫠

kth: does it wrong and wins. we all know taehyung lives on his own mf planet so i absolutely believe this man is gonna EDGE himself for 30 days in a row. literally bring himself right to the brink of orgasm, then hop in a cold-ass shower and carry on with his life. it's fun for him 🤭 and when the members tell him he's doing it wrong, he says he's doing the advanced version 😏 and i just.... god bless whoever is on the receiving end of that load on december first lmfaoooooo 💦

jjk: OF COURSE HE FUCKING WINS. jk is the one who makes everyone participate, no fucking question, and he is in it to WIN IT bc of course he is. i know he's a jerkoff pro tho so he has to suddenly deal with having.... EVEN MORE excess energy than usual 🤣 we're talking multiple workout sessions a day, every day, just to burn it all off (namjoon goes with him even tho he's already lost 🥲). maybe even a tattoo session to help get his mind off things idk 👀 and when it's finally december first he's jerking off til his dick is RAW lmfao 💀

what do you think? any you agree/disagree with? 👀 lemme know~

#bts imagine #bts headcanon #bts scenario #bts smut #kinda lol #this was silly #i am on a lifelong protest of no nut november so me and seokjin can laugh at everyone else while they suffer #(i'm actually just joon and always forget until it's too late skdhgdjfg)

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kybercrystals94 · 7 months

Text

I can’t believe February is already over! I had so much fun with this prompt challenge, and I am thrilled to be a completionist!

Congrats to my writing buddy @just-here-with-my-thoughts for also completing all 29 prompts this month! And many thank yous for proofreading some of my fics all the way back in January!

And special thanks to @the-little-moment for your notes of encouragement and check ins! THANK YOU!!

But really, this entire fandom’s community is amazing, both here on Tumblr and over on Ao3! I’ve written for many fandoms over the years, but this is by far the most supportive community I’ve had the privilege of being a part of!

Thank you for all the likes, comments, reblogs, kudos, and bookmarks! Y’all, my little writer’s heart runneth over!

🥹❤️❣️💕

Febuwhump Master List

Ao3 Febuwhump Master List

Day 1 | Prompt 1: Helpless

But She Still Cries

Star Wars: The Bad Batch

(Ao3) | (Tumblr)

Rated: G | Words: 350

Excerpt: “My heart hurts,” Omega whispers, voice shaky. Crosshair recognizes the affliction with excruciating clarity, the tight fist of loss and regret.

[Character Focus: Omega, Crosshair]

[Tags: hurt no comfort]

Day 2 | Prompt 2: Solitary Confinement

Roaring Silence

Star Wars: The Bad Batch

(Ao3) | (Tumblr)

Rated: G | Words: 180

Excerpt: “I don’t like this test,” Omega says quietly, stopping short of the door, resisting the hand that presses against her back between her shoulder blades.

[Character Focus: Omega]

[Tags: human experimentation, childhood trauma]

Day 3 | Prompt 3: “Bite down on this.” & Day 12 | Prompt 12: Semi-Conscious

Grounded

Star Wars: The Bad Batch

(Ao3) | (Tumblr: Part 1 - Part 2)

Rated: T | Words: 1736

Excerpt: Blinding pain greets Crosshair’s return to consciousness, and a sharp gasp ejects from his lungs. A hand clasps hard over his mouth…

[Character Focus: Crosshair, Hunter]

[Tags: broken limb, injury]

Day 4 | Prompt 4: Obedience

Up to Something

Star Wars: The Bad Batch

(Ao3) | (Tumblr)

Rated: G | Words: 1069

Excerpt: “Hunter always sides with you,” Wrecker grumbles. / Tech rolls his eyes, but plays into the argument. “Not true, but he usually sides with reason, which is more commonly provided by myself.”

[Character Focus: Wrecker, Tech, Crosshair, Hunter]

[Tags: concussion, slight whump, humor]

Day 5 | Prompt 5: Rope Burns

Absolute Privilege

Star Wars: The Bad Batch

(Ao3) | (Tumblr)

Rated: G | Words: 1091

Excerpt: Omega leans over the cliff, staring into the dark, gaping mouth of the container yawning up at her. She can do this. She has to do this.

[Character Focus: Omega, Tech]

[Tags: sibling relationships, soft Tech, injury]

Day 6 | Prompt 6: “You lied to me.”

Die for a Corpse

Star Wars: The Bad Batch

(Ao3) | (Tumblr)

Rated: T | Words: 960

Excerpt: In his arms, the other clone choked for breath, a blaster hole through his chestplate. He didn’t have long. That much Tech gathered as he approached the pair.

[Character Focus: Tech, OC]

[Tags: descriptions of death, hurt no comfort]

Day 7 | Prompt 7: Suffering in Silence

Poisoned

Star Wars: The Bad Batch

(Ao3) | (Tumblr)

Rated: G | Words: 328

Excerpt: When Wrecker was too loud in a small space; when Tech couldn’t seem to run out of words to say about an impossibly dull topic; when Hunter lectured them about picking fights with the regs. Crosshair longed for silence in those moments.

[Character Focus: Crosshair]

[Tags: emotional whump, regrets]

Day 8 | Prompt 8: “Why won’t it stop?”

They All Fall Down

Star Wars: The Bad Batch

(Ao3) | (Tumblr)

Rated: G | Words: 1572

Excerpt: “Hunter,” Wrecker whines, drawing out the last syllable of Hunter’s name to a ridiculous length. “Crosshair won’t stop staring at me.”

[Character Focus: Cadet Batch]

[Tags: humor, sibling relationships, a dash of whump]

Day 9 | Prompt 9: Bees

Hide and Seek and Training

Star Wars: The Bad Batch

(Ao3) | (Tumblr)

Rated: T | Words: 2496

Excerpt: Slowly, Omega looks back at where the branch she sits on meets the tree. Tucked into the crook, a muddy looking structure is swarming with the colorful insects. Bees, Omega’s memory supplies frantically.

[Character Focus: Omega, Tech, Hunter, Wrecker, Echo]

[Tags: bee stings, slight injuries, sibling relationships, whump and fluff, humor]

Day 10 | Prompt 10: Killing in Self Defense

Flame Snuffed Out

Star Wars: The Bad Batch

(Ao3) | (Tumblr)

Rated: T | Words: 457

Excerpt: Wrecker had to grab Tech’s shoulder, give him a shove to get him moving again. Wrecker must’ve told Hunter that. He shouldn’t have hesitated…Death should not influence him. Not him.

[Character Focus: Tech, Hunter]

[Tags: descriptions of death, trauma]

Day 11 | Alternate Prompt 4: Human Weapon

Costly Mistakes

Star Wars: The Bad Batch

(Ao3) | (Tumblr)

Rated: G | Words: 542

Excerpt: “How’d you get out here without the others following you?” Hunter asks. / “I didn’t,” Crosshair responds. “But I told them if they didn’t go back to the barracks, I’d make their lives a living hell.” / “And they believed you?” / “Wrecker did. Tech took a hint.”

[Character Focus: Hunter, Crosshair]

[Tags: Cadet Batch, sibling relationships]

Day 12 | Prompt 12: Semi-Conscious

*See Day 3*

Day 13 | Prompt 13: “You weren’t supposed to get hurt.”

Exploration

Star Wars: The Bad Batch

(Ao3) | (Tumblr)

Rated: G | Words: 1781

Summary: An afternoon of exploring takes a slight turn.

[Character Focus: Hunter, Omega, Tech, Wrecker, Echo]

[Tags: minor injury, a touch of whump, fluff, humor]

Day 14 | Prompt 14: “I love you.”

I Love You

Star Wars: The Bad Batch

(Ao3) | (Tumblr)

Rated: G | Words: 781

Excerpt: She replayed the words over and over again in her mind, rolling the syllables silently over her tongue. Of course, she knew her brothers loved her, and she loved them. They just never said it. In fact, Omega didn’t think she had ever heard that combination of words in that order out loud in her entire life.

[Character Focus: Omega, Hunter]

[Tags: fluff and emotional whump, sibling relationships]

Day 15 | Prompt 15: “Who did this to you?”

Left Handed

Star Wars: The Bad Batch

(Ao3) | (Tumblr)

Rated: G | Word Count: 574

Excerpt: Omega drapes herself further over the back of the seat, arms dangling. “What happened? Were you in a fight?” / “Something like that,” Echo grumbles, avoiding eye contact.

[Character Focus: Echo, Omega, Tech, Hunter, Wrecker]

[Tags: humor, whump, sibling relationships]

Day 16 | Prompt 16: Came Back Wrong

Stay

Star Wars: The Bad Batch

(Ao3) | (Tumblr)

Rated: G | Words: 741

Excerpt: Crosshair watches from his perch on a wall as the sun sinks into the sea, dissolving into swatches of reds, yellows, and oranges. Discolored by twilight, sky bleeds through with deep blues and purples. It is beautiful here. Peaceful. Quiet. Safe. He does not belong here.

[Character Focus: Crosshair, Hunter]

[Tags: emotional whump]

Day 17 | Prompt 17: Hostage Situation

The Hostage

Star Wars: The Bad Batch

(Ao3) | (Tumblr - Part 1)

Rated: T | Words: —

Summary: Omega is taken hostage.

[Character Focus: Omega, Hunter, Tech, Echo, Wrecker]

[Tags: action, kidnapping]

Day 18 | Alternate Prompt 1: Human Shield

Shields

Star Wars: The Bad Batch

(Ao3) | (Tumblr)

Rated: G | Words: 730

Excerpt: “Why can’t you keep your mouth shut once in a while?” Crosshair asked, shoving roughly into Tech as they went into their barracks.

[Character: Cadet Batch]

[Tags: sibling relationships, bullies]

Day 19 | Prompt 19: “Please don’t.”

“Please don’t.”

Star Wars: The Bad Batch

(Ao3) | (Tumblr)

Rated: G | Words: 497

Excerpt: Crosshair has experienced headaches. More than his fair share with his optical enhancement. While they were never near as severe as Hunter’s over the years, he’d learned to take them in stride, work through the pain. But this time is different. It is insistent. A sharp, isolated pain that feels as though a blade is being driven through his skull. It’s putting him on edge. Well, this and Hunter.

[Character Focus: Crosshair, Omega]

[Tags: chip activation, Order 66]

Day 20 | Prompt 20: Truth Serum

Embroidered Skulls

Star Wars: The Bad Batch

(Ao3) | (Tumblr)

Rated: G | Words: 1092

Summary: Exposure to truth serum uncovers some secrets.

[Characters: Tech, Hunter, Echo, Crosshair, Wrecker]

[Tags: humor, barely whump]

Day 21 | Prompt 21: Unresponsive

The Fact Remains

Star Wars: The Bad Batch

(Ao3) | (Tumblr)

Rated: G | Words: 641

Summary: After Wrecker is injured on a mission, the brothers wait for him to wake up.

[Character Focus: Hunter, Tech, Crosshair, Wrecker]

[Tags: guilt, sibling relationships]

Day 22 | Prompt 22: “You weren’t meant to be there.”

Impeccable Timing

Star Wars: The Bad Batch

(Ao3) | (Tumblr)

Rated: T | Words: 563

Excerpt: The target in his sights moved the moment he pulled the trigger. Gone was the neck shot that would decapitate the battle droid and in its place was the familiar pale gray armor of his brother. There was nothing he could do but watch in horror as the bolt made contact.

[Character Focus: Crosshair, Tech]

[Tags: friendly fire, injury]

Day 23 | Alternate Prompt 6: Immortality

Merriest Days Ahead

Star Wars: The Bad Batch

(Ao3) | (Tumblr - Part 1)

Rated: G | Words: —

Summary: A month long holiday on Pabu prompts the Batch to wonder about the legacy they will leave behind.

[Character Focus: Omega, Tech, Crosshair, Hunter, Wrecker]

[Tags: sibling relationships, fluff, emotional whump]

Day 24 | Prompt 24: “I’m doing this because I care about you.”

Belong

Star Wars: The Bad Batch

(Ao3) | (Tumblr)

Rated: G | Words: 351

Excerpt: However, she can’t hate her brother no matter how hard she tries to let the words barb the broken flesh of her heart. The words just make her sad, a sullen and persistent ache that makes her cry when she thinks no one will hear her.

[Character Focus: Omega, Hunter]

[Tags: what-if, alternate ending, emotional whump]

Day 25 | Alternate Prompt 7: Last Words

Last Words

Star Wars: The Clone Wars

(Ao3) | (Tumblr)

Rated: T | Words: 392

Excerpt: Famous last words they say, because, in reality, most last words are not spectacular or special. They aren’t deep or poetic, they don’t inspire greatness or alter the course of history. Often, they are pathetic and small, underrated and thoughtless. Because, often, you didn’t know they would be the last words you ever would speak. Even as you lay dying, you cling to that threadbare hope that you might have a moment longer. But you don’t. You die. The words you said are the last, whether you meant them or not.

[Character Focus: Kix]

[Tags: what-if, alternate ending, descriptions of dying moments]

Day 26 | Prompt 26: “Help them.”

Brave

Star Wars: The Bad Batch

(Ao3) | (Tumblr)

Rated: G | Words: 428

Excerpt: She tries. She tries so hard to keep the tears from falling, to keep her breath even. But another hiccuping sob makes her guardian cast her a disapproving glance.

[Character Focus: Omega]

[Tags: big sister, baby Batch, emotional whump]

Day 27 | Prompt 27: Left for Dead

Stories

Star Wars: The Bad Batch

(Ao3) | (Tumblr)

Rated: G | Words: 1624

Excerpt: “Crosshair! We’ve been looking for you,” Omega announces, unabashedly intruding on Crosshair’s peace and quiet. / Crosshair cracks open one eye to glare at his sister looming over him. He had found a lush patch of grass under a tree about a five minute walk from their Pabu abode, hidden from the prying eyes of curious neighbors and meddling siblings. Well, evidently not hidden enough.

[Character Focus: Crosshair, Omega, Tech]

[Tags: sibling relationships, emotional whump/angst]

Day 28 | Prompt 28: No…Not like this.

Coded

Star Wars: The Bad Batch

(Ao3) | (Tumblr)

Rated: G | Words: 289

Summary: Missing scene from Season 3 Episode 4

[Character Focus: Hunter, Wrecker]

[Tags: emotional whump]

Day 29 | Prompt 29: Not Allowed to Die

Sick Day

Star Wars: The Bad Batch

(Ao3) | (Tumblr)

Rated: G | Words: 516

Summary: Echo is sick with a fever.

[Character Focus: Echo]

[Tags: sick fic, hallucination, hurt no comfort]

#febuwhump 2024 completionist #febuwhump 2024 #Master List #star wars #the bad batch #fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #ao3 writer #the clone wars #tbb tech #tbb hunter #tbb omega #tbb crosshair #tbb echo #tbb wrecker #tcw kix

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misfitwashere · 2 months

Text

Veep Stakes

Will Vance be Sacrificed?

Timothy Snyder

Jul 24, 2024

In a normal presidential campaign, such as the one Vice-President Kamala Harris is running, “veepstakes” is a harmless play on the word “sweepstakes,” invoking a friendly competition to become a vice-presidential nominee. One can enjoy thinking about matches between the presidential and vice-presidential candidates and wonder how it will all turn out.

But “stakes” can be harder, or sharper. One can be burned at a stake, sacrificed on a stake, or killed by a stake through the heart. For Donald Trump and J.D. Vance, this election has morbid overtones.

Trump’s candidacy is a mortality play. He wants to die in the White House. Whatever else he might say, or whatever else his followers might believe, this is the essential reality. Old-guy dictatorship involves funeral planning. When Trump says that he admires a Putin or a Xi, what he means is “that man will die in office and not in jail.”

Since Trump is thinking about death, Vance must as well. In considering a place on the ticket, Vance was reasoning from different premises than (for example) Andy Beshear. If Kamala Harris asks Beshear to join her on the ticket, he can imagine running for president in 2032. Vance, by contrast, knows that Trump, so long as he lives, will never voluntarily get out of the way.

A Vance who wishes to be president needs Trump to win in November, stay alive long enough to take office in January, and then perish. One does not have to be an actuary to understand why Vance might think that this is a good bet.

Vance was the choice of the tech broligarchs – Elon Musk, David Sacks, Peter Thiel. Vance was also the preferred option of the Kremlin, whose propaganda line Musk and Sacks tend to follow. Had Trump chosen anyone but Vance, he could have been sure of that person’s loyalty to him. But Vance is a tech brotegé, not a Trump client.

In the heady atmosphere of Milwaukee, the selection of Vance could seem like a win for everyone. Trump gets the money he needs from the broligarchs (e.g. a promise of $45 million a month from Musk), who happily contemplate installing their guy as his successor. Trump believed that he was running against Joe Biden and that he was going to win easily. Vance could make his private calculations about Trump’s longevity, and go along with the show. Vance was endorsed by the Russian foreign ministry for his pro-surrender foreign policy.

A week later, with Kamala Harris as the presumptive Democratic nominee, everything looks different. The Harris candidacy is bad for Putin and the broligarchs, but not fatal. Putin wants Trump to win, because that is his only hope of winning in Ukraine. But should Trump lose the election, Putin will figure out some other way of saving himself. Russian propagandists are already turning against Vance. The broligarchs would like to run the American government. Should they fail, though, nothing bad will happen to them. Now Musk denies promising the monthly $45 million to Trump’s campaign.

The billionaires are entirely safe. Trump and Vance are the ones who are exposed. Now that Trump recognizes that the election will be competitive, Vance’s weaknesses matter to him.

Vance’s skillset is limited. He was more articulate when he opposed Trump than in his present support. Vance saying that Trump is an “idiot” who could be “America’s Hitler” is hard to forget. On the campaign trail, Vance channels broligarch grievance and mocks everyone else. This is backroom back-slapping delight when only the billionaires’ voices matter, as in Milwaukee.

But in an election, other voices count.

Vance’s policy approach is not very resonant. He specializes in weak-man politics. His claim is that government is always impotent. This does not work together with Trump’s strong-man fantasy. Trump’s followers want to believe that the system can be trashed and they can still get what they want from it -- a bit of magical thinking that Trump’s charisma enables.

Vance can’t pull that off. When he explains that government is pointless, it is a bit too clear that what he means is that broligarchs should run wild at home while dictators should push Americans around abroad. That is not actually what voters want to hear, including Republican voters. Sacks found that out when he read aloud Putin’s talking points from the stage in Milwaukee.

Trump must now run an uphill campaign, pulling Vance along behind him.

Vance is from Ohio. Having a Buckeye on the ticket will not help Trump in neighboring Michigan or Pennsylvania, states he must win. And if Ohio is in play, the Trump campaign has deep problems. When Vance held a rally in his hometown, a local ally threatened “civil war” after a lost election. This does not express confidence.

Vance could even hurt in Ohio itself.

Reproductive rights were always going to be central to this campaign; Kamala Harris is certain to raise it more clearly than Biden would have. Vance is infamous for his (vulgar and public) support for a national abortion ban. Last November, Ohio voters codified reproduction rights in the state constitution by referendum – by a vote of 57% in favor. This was a personal defeat for Vance, who characterized the pro-choice Ohio majority as “sociopaths” who “murder their own children.”

Trump has been played by unreliable people, which could be uncomfortable for Vance. And Vance must understand that the Harris candidacy alters his own situation.

Instead of coasting to victory with Trump and waiting for him to die, Vance now must contemplate what it would mean to lose alongside Trump in November -- in an election angry Republicans have been trained to believe would be a landslide. Trump cannot blame the broligarchs or Putin, since he cannot admit that he needed the money and support of others. That leaves Vance as the scapegoat.

Vance must now imagine a world, about three months from now, in which Trump instructs his followers that Vance is to blame. Trump has driven Republicans out of the party by stochastic violence. He was ready to sacrifice the life of his last vice-president. If Vance leaves now, he will feel the heat for a moment, but can go back to his prior life. The longer Vance waits to leave the Trump ticket, the greater the risk of a scenario involving a stake.

The necropolitics is no one’s fault but that of the people concerned. Republicans did not have to nominate an aged coup-plotting felon. The broligarchs did not have to install their candidate to succeed a deceased Trump. And Vance did not have to join Trump’s ticket.

On the Democratic side, the picture is much brighter. Kamala Harris seeks her vice-presidential nominee, following the familiar rules of the gentle version of veepstakes. It is fun to follow. Maybe Kelly? Shapiro? Or Buttigieg? Or Whitmer? Who knows? It is refreshing to imagine two candidates wishing each other well, having complementary policies, working towards a better future, towards life.

#timothy snyder #Thinking about...

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fandomwriterstuff · 5 months

Text

Treacherous

Sirius Black x Reader (I tried to make it gender neutral)

Words: ~2.5k

Heavily inspired by Treacherous by Taylor Swift

You were in third year when you had your first crush, the delicate balance of hormones in your body set alight at the sight of long dark hair and that smirk passing you in the hallway. He was a boy in your year, a Gryffindor, and you weren’t sure what to do with all these new feelings so you avoided him like the plague.

Sirius Black was his name, and he was very pretty. You were lucky enough that your close friends only teased you about your little crush in private. You never talked about him, hoping your crush would slowly fade.

That was until fourth year, when you were partnered with him in potions. You knew he would have chosen one of his three close friends if given the choice, but the chaos that usually interrupted your classroom forced your professor to assign pairs.

As soon as your name came out of his mouth, as soon as you knew that he knew who you were, you were a goner. You couldn’t help the warmth in your cheeks or your parched throat. Your friends knew it too, and the teasing increased tenfold. You were partnered with him until winter break that year. Months of sitting by his side and working in libraries (something you found he wasn’t used to doing) had stoked your burning ember of a crush into a flame. Luckily, new partners were assigned when January came and you could breathe normally again.

You thought you would be able to go back to ignoring Sirius Black, but you always caught him smiling at you in the hallways and sending you little enchanted doodles and notes in potions class.

When the summer before fifth year came, you spent it with your best friend, a muggle from your hometown. You’d told her all about your boarding school (well… what you could tell her, of course). And of course, you told her all about Sirius Black, his mischievous nature, the pranks he and his friends got up to, his angular face, and his shiny hair.

“Sounds like someone has a crush,” she teased you, and while you felt the heat creep up your neck, you didn’t deny it. “Do you think he likes you back?”

“It’s hard to say,” you pondered. “Sometimes I think he does. I don’t see him passing notes to anyone else, but he’s so popular that sometimes I think he’s just being nice,” you shrugged, unsure what to do.

“Make it clear you’re interested in him, and see where it goes!”

“But what if he isn’t interested in me? Then what?” You deadpanned, an eyebrow raised at your friend. “That would crush me.”

She hummed, thoughtful. “Valid point, but consider this, you might just end up regretting saying nothing.”

So, when fifth year started and you talked to your witch and wizard friends about possibly telling Sirius how you felt, you were shut down immediately. A chorus of reasons why he wouldn’t like you back, and all the reasons it was a bad idea to get involved with him were all you heard. So you shoved your growing feelings down and went about your life. Maybe it was a bad idea, he was bold, he was loud, he was a ladies’ man, he was way more popular than you. But he was also sweet and funny and listened to you talk about everything and anything when you had class together.

“Are you avoiding me?” You looked up from your lunch. The empty space across from you was suddenly filled with a very perplexed looking Sirius Black. You blinked owlishly, your friends all silent as your carefully curated plan to get rid of your crush (read: serious feelings) came crashing down. Merlin, he was so much more handsome close up. And when had he gotten that tall?

“Uh, well,” you mumbled. “I wouldn’t call it avoiding, per se,” you looked down at your fingers, tangled up in white-knuckled knots below the table.

“I would, but that’s just me. I barely see you in the halls anymore, I miss seeing your smiling face,” here he punctuated his sentence by tucking a strand of his hair behind his ear. It drew your attention to his face, his pink lips and pinker cheeks and smiling eyes. “We’ve got four classes together and you’ve barely spoken a word to me. It’s beginning to feel like you don’t like me, darling.” At this, his grin sharpened and suddenly you felt like he’d planned this: to fluster you. He liked it. However, what came out of your friends’ mouth was:

“Have you considered that she doesn’t like you, Black?” That was Nigel, and your timid and flustered demeanor suddenly came to a stop as you nearly gave yourself whiplash to look over at him.

“Did anybody ask you, Nigel?” You drawled, eyes narrowed and head cocked to the side. Nigel blanched, unused to seeing you this murderous. “I didn’t think you were so desperate for attention that you would interrupt someone else's conversation. It seems mummy didn’t teach you about manners.”

You waited until you were sure he was done speaking before turning back to the eldest Black brother. Though now, he had a wide smirk on his face and you could feel your emotions wavering again.

“Didn’t know you could be so feisty, you’ve always been a timid little thing around me,” you gulped. “You should come sit with us sometime, I’ve told my friends all about you.”

And with that, he was gone.

I’d be smart to walk away, but you’re quicksand.

Sirius Black was, without a doubt, the most enticing teenage boy you’d ever encountered. Getting to know him better frightened you, he was popular and handsome and he held so much of your heart that he could break it with very little effort. To be known by someone was treacherous. And it was a risk you were willing to take.

So that’s how you found yourself several days later at dinner, abandoning your friends and trying to look calm as you wandered over to the marauders. You knew there were eyes on you, but you remained steadfast as you approached.

“Hello, Gryffindors,” you smiled as they all turned to you. It was a rare sight, seeing houses mingle at mealtimes. “I seem to have lost something, and I was wondering if you’d seen it Sirius?” You let your eyes roam over his face as he computed the fact that you’d actually stopped avoiding him and were at his table with his friends.

“What is it, darling? What have you lost?”

You sighed dramatically, laid a hand over your heart and gazed into his eyes.

“It’s my heart you see, you seem to have stolen it,” you grinned, desperately praying to whoever was listening that Sirius couldn’t hear the pounding of your heart or see the shaking of your hands.

Sirius was gazing up at you, awestruck eyes glued to your own as he finally spoke. “Prongs, move over. Let this lovely creature sit down.” James huffed and scooched closer to their shorter friend, Peter, and you neatly sat down in the empty space.

There wasn’t much to be done about how close the two of you were, pressed together from shoulder to elbow and thighs touching.

“That was wonderful, truly,” Sirius was smiling down at you as he grabbed you a plate and set it down in front of you.

“Wonderful, yes. Sappy? Also yes. Please save me the cavities,” James grumbled and you would have been shocked by the usually bubbly Potter boy being so downtrodden if not for Remus’ next words.

“You’re just miserable because Lily hasn’t returned your advances. Don’t scare them away.” The tall boy turned his attention towards you. “It’s good to see you alive and well. We weren’t sure, what with how well you’ve been avoiding Sirius since the term started.”

You pressed your lips into a thin smile.

“Yes well, when everyone around me was telling me that there was no way Sirius would want to interact with me, and that I would get detention by proxy just from spending time with the lot of you… Well I needed some time to myself to think.”

“And what, pray tell, did that time alone teach you?” Sirius wondered aloud, curious as to your change in behavior.

“That my friends are tossers and if they cared about me they would encourage me instead of shutting me down.”

You shrugged, and started scooping food onto your plate. You had a feeling though, based on Remus’ face, that he was impressed.

This slope is treacherous, this path is reckless.

When you stopped ignoring Sirius and started actively engaging with him in conversation, you unsurprisingly got to know a lot more about him and his friends. He loved them dearly, you could tell. You found yourself on a rollercoaster ride just hanging out with him. One moment he would be sugary sweet and sending you winks over breakfast. The next he was in a battle of wits and joking around with his friends. Often he was engaging in the marauders’ pranks, being joyful and mischievous.

You were a careful person, calculated and reserved. But you thought he brought out the best in you. He helped you break out of your carefully crafted shell, he told you about his brother and his parents and how he was lucky to have found his friends. You opened up to him about your friends recent dismissal of you from their group, just for spending time with him instead (against their wills). You studied with Remus in the library and practiced flying with Sirius and James, you went to Honeydukes with Peter. You found yourself integrating into their friend group and it frightened you, but you wouldn’t ruin it for anything. Sirius was different from you, but it made you a better person to be around him.

Forever going with the flow, but you’re friction.

It was all going to come crashing down though, and you knew it. Good things always did. You were just waiting for it to happen. You knew you had serious feelings for the boy and with sixth year halfway through, you were getting impatient with him. You thought he liked you back. You thought that’s what all this was for. You were sitting in your bedroom with your three roommates (the only friends who stuck with you), complaining about this very issue.

“I mean I thought he liked me. I literally word for word told him he’d stolen my heart. I spend every free moment with him. What do I have to do?” You had your head in your hands, and you were about ready to tear your hair out.

“Maybe he doesn’t like you like that?” One said. You grit your teeth. It was possible, but it didn’t make sense.

“Maybe he’s lying to you about something and keeping secrets is devastating him. He can’t go on lying to you and it’s preventing him from telling you about his feelings,” the second gasped and you frowned. That was the most ridiculous thing you’d heard all day.

“He hasn’t ever had a significant other before. You know he comes from a tough background. Maybe he doesn’t know how to talk to you about his feelings.”

You looked up, miserable.

“I’m going to have to do something, aren’t I?”

You were met with various nods and sympathetic looks. You weren’t cut from the same cloth as Sirius. You didn’t make bold gestures and you certainly didn’t do declarations of love. But the song of hope in the back of your mind had you marching out of your dorm and towards the Gryffindor common room.

This hope is treacherous, this daydream is dangerous.

You spoke the password, the fat lady giving you a wink as you shook in your boots waiting for her to open the door. You were lucky, you’d caught the marauders by themselves, planning a prank. Nobody else was around. Just you and the four boys. You could do this.

“Hey, gorgeous,” Sirius perked up at the sight of you, always excited to see you. Peter was next, giving you that small smile of his that you’d grown to appreciate. James waved excitedly. Remus though, you knew he saw right through you. Your hands were ice cold, your skin felt clammy, your clothes felt too tight.

“Are you alright?” At Remus’ question, Sirius frowned and looked you up and down looking for some physical harm.

“I feel like I’m going to die, actually. Feels a bit dramatic but I am sixteen, yeah? So I guess it’s warranted,” you chuckled nervously.

“What’s going on?” Sirius was standing and approaching you, eyebrows pinched in concern and you decided to just go for it. He was worth it.

“I had a crush on you in third year. I thought since we were in different houses it would be fine and it would go away. But when we were partnered together in fourth year potions and I got to know you better, all my friends told me that my pining was useless. That you would never like me back,” he opened his mouth to respond, but you had to keep going. You needed him to understand. “I told my best friend about you that summer and she told me to just go for it. She told you to make it clear to you that I was interested, but with the voices of so many of my friends against just the one I thought ignoring you would be better. But I was wrong. Last year I tried telling you how I felt, but I’m not sure it went as planned because now I am here, a year later, still mad for you. And honestly I don’t know what I’ll do if you don’t feel the same because these three dorks have shown me what real friends look like, and that you’re supposed to support and encourage each other, and only knock sense into them when they truly deserve it. They’ve been better friends to me in the last year than anyone in my house has… well ever.” You inhaled deeply, catching your breath as your rabbit heart pounded in your chest. “I just need you to know that-”

You were cut off by Sirius’ hands reaching out and pulling you into him, and his lips crashing against yours. He kissed you like he did everything else he did with you: passionately, and like he truly cared about how you felt. So you kissed him back, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him close.

When you disconnected, he was smiling at you. It was a fragile thing, his smile just then. It was just for you to see. And then he chuckled.

“You look like you’re about to pass out, darling. Let’s go sit down,” you nodded, inhaling and exhaling with as much control as you could manage. Your heart went back into a frenzy at his next words, though.

“Oh, and if you didn’t know: I’m mad for you too.”

Masterlist

#marauders era #the marauders #marauders fanfiction #sirius black #x reader #reader insert #sirius black x reader #treacherous #taylor swift #songfic

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