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astrophileous · 7 months

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The Monday Pursuit

Pairing: Derek Morgan x Female Reader

Synopsis: The three times Derek tries to find out your name, and the one time he finally gets it. Or, the story of four different Mondays that Derek spends on the pursuit of your name.

Warning(s): shy!reader, cursing, public confrontation (verbal and physical) with a douchebag, verbal and physical threats, talks of killing someone, name-calling, protective derek, a bit of damsel in distress situation, and that's it really. this is just tooth-rotting fluff 💞

Word Count: 4300-ish

Author's Note: I FINALLY POSTED A DEREK ONE SHOT! YAY! I was toying around with the idea of making this a series of connected one shots, each one focusing on the significance of a particular day (tuesday, wednesday, thursday, etc) in the progress of your relationship. does that sound like something you guys would be interested in? tell me what you think! plsss!!! don't forget to leave a LIKE+COMMENT+REBLOG

Criminal Minds Masterlist

Derek noticed you on a Monday.

He couldn't count how many times his eyes had swept over you absentmindedly in the past few weeks. None of them ever lasted long enough for him to linger around, but somehow, this particular Monday was different.

It was different because the moment Derek's gaze drifted towards the direction where he would usually find you, he finally noticed that you were gone.

It was ironic in a way, how he only noticed you in the wake of your absence. But somewhere in the ruckus that his favorite coffee shop would whirl into every morning, Derek had begun associating the table in the corner of that place with you.

Even then, when someone else was occupying the seat at the end of his long stare, Derek could picture the scene in his head: your laptop on the table, a cup of steaming hot coffee in your hand, and a serious but adorable crease on the center of your forehead. Those three things stood out from the rest. Perhaps if he had the same eidietic ability as Spender Reid, Derek could list more details about your habits and person. Nonetheless, somewhere in his subsconscious, Derek's memories must have deemed you important enough to keep, and that was all it took for him to wonder what about you was so goddamn special.

His fog of reverie was soon broken by an interrupting voice, "She's out of town."

Derek turned his head to see one of the barristas giving him a sly smile. "Excuse me?"

"The writer. She's out of town."

"Writer?" Derek didn't know that. "She's a writer?"

"On the side. She's in grad school," the barrista said. "She has two books out and another one pending publication. She's in New York right now for a book signing."

The word impressive promptly filled Derek's mind, and judging by the barrista's expression, it seemed that the word had translated unmistakably on his face, too.

"You know, you shouldn't give out someone's information to random people like that," Derek warned.

"I don't usually, but I thought, since you're FBI..."

The surprise in Derek's eyes couldn't be more palpable. "How'd you know?"

"Dude, you've been around a while." The barrista shrugged. "Besides, I don't think she would mind."

Derek frowned.

"She likes you," the barrista revealed once they saw the confusion settling on Derek's face.

"What?"

"She's got a bad crush on you, didn't you know?"

"Uh, no?"

"Huh." The barrista put down the cup containing Derek's order on the counter. "I thought you knew. She was so obvious. I mean, I'm not sure how she hasn't burned through the back of your skull with how hard she always stares."

Flabbergasted couldn't even begin to describe what Derek was feeling. His curious eyes flicked momentarily towards your table before he addressed the barrista again, "She's a friend of yours?"

"Hell yeah, she is." The barrista smiled. "That's why I know she's got it bad for you."

Being admired wasn't exactly something new for Derek, so he struggled to comprehend why the thought of you crushing on him had triggered a wave of heat to travel up and down his body.

"What's her name?" Derek asked, trying to sound casual and nonchalant as he picked up his cup of coffee.

The barrista grinned smugly. "I thought you told me not to give someone's information to a random person like that?"

With that said, the barrista went to attend to another customer, leaving Derek to curse over his excellent ability to dig up his own hole.

You were back in town the following week.

When Derek walked into the coffee shop the next Monday, he immediately found you huddled up in your usual seat. For one split second, Derek saw you looking up from your laptop, your eyes locking with his from across the room. But before he could offer a smile, you averted your gaze as if you couldn't wait to get away from him.

That thought didn't conjure well in Derek's mind.

Derek proceeded to give his usual order and waited by the counter. However, when he saw a plate of blueberry muffin being placed next to his cup to go, Derek glimpsed up in confusion at the awaiting smirk on your friend's--the barrista's--face.

"I didn't order this."

"No, you didn't. But do you know whose favorite dessert it is?"

Derek casted a glance towards your direction.

"Exactly." The barrista grinned wider. "Now, go. It's on the house."

The loud drumming inside Derek's chest should have been laughable.

He was never like this. Derek was always self-assured, especially when it came to flirting and courting, so there really was no reason for him to be feeling like this. But something about you had spiked the rhytmic beating in his chest, and Derek didn't like being out of his element when there was a pretty girl at stake.

Thus, with an ease born out of years of practice, Derek worked to turn on his good ol' charm. The same one that dripped from his footsteps as he sauntered over your table with his coffee in one hand and one special plate of blueberry muffin in the other.

Deer caught in headlights; that was exactly the perfect description to visualize how you looked when Derek finally placed the muffin on the table. The man smirked triumphantly at the knowledge that he affected you just as much as you affected him.

"Hey," Derek greeted almost complacently. "I heard this is your favorite."

"What? I don't.... how did you..."

You stopped speaking altogether, sending a grimace to the direction of the counter--where your friend was working--when you deduced what could probably have transpired

"I missed you last week," Derek added.

If you were abashed before, then you must have been mortified when those words slipped out of Derek's lips. You looked up at him with a gaping mouth, and Derek would have laughed at how precious you looked if he didn't have compassion for your poor nerves.

"I was out of town," you eventually managed to say.

"I heard. A writer, right? You had a book signing." Derek smiled. "That's impressive. Anything of yours I might know?"

Your face contorted after hearing his question. "I doubt it. I'm not big at all."

"I don't know. Book signing in New York? Sounds pretty big to me."

"Not as much as you would expect, to be honest."

Derek didn't know why, but he despised the sound of you downplaying your own accomplishments as if they weren't worthy of being praised. He swore he would assist in changing that tendency if given the chance.

"My name is Derek. Derek Morgan."

"I know."

Derek raised a curious eyebrow.

You cowered shyly when you realized what you had admitted. "I heard you mention it a while ago, when you were ordering."

"And you remember?"

Your bashful expression nearly compelled Derek to cheer out loud.

"Do you need something?" you finally asked, not at all mean or bitter, more timid than anything else.

"Yes. I was wondering if I could ask for your name."

"My name?

Derek nodded. "Well, you see, I wanted to ask for your number, but I figured since I still don't have your name yet, then maybe I should get around to it first."

You bit your bottom lip, seemingly in deep thought as you assessed Derek with soft eyes.

"My name is--"

Just as the answer was dangling on the tip of your tongue, Derek's phone suddenly started to ring. He internally cursed his life for its partiality to bad timings, holding up an apologetic finger as he accepted the call without looking at the caller ID.

"Hello?"

"Hey, beefcake, where are you?" Penelope Garcia asked from the other end of the line. "Hotch just told everyone to be up and running in 30."

"What? I thought the briefing starts in 30."

"He's debriefing on the plane. Another body just turned up."

"Shit. Shit. Okay, fine, I'll be there."

Derek ended the call in the next second, panic clouding his mind to the point that he failed to realize he didn't bid his usual farewell to his favorite tech analyst. In front of him, you were staring with a pair of expectant eyes that made Derek wish he could stop time to spend it by your side. Alas, such power only existed in fantasy, and Derek--frankly--didn't have enough time at hand to pay grievance over that fact.

"I'm sorry."

Your face fell at Derek's apology, even if slightly.

"God, this sucks. I wish I could stay. I haven't even--"

"Derek, it's okay," you cut him off. "Just go."

"But you didn't--"

"Derek." Your hand on the table slid forward, as though wanting to reach out to him but stopped shortly before you did. "I'm always here."

It was such a simple statement. Three small words that carried hardly any weight on their own whatsoever. But strung together, Derek knew exactly what you meant, the real meaning behind the sentence you chose to say.

You can go. It's okay. We'll continue this some other time.

Reeling from your generous understanding, Derek rushed a goodbye before sprinting towards the door. But just as he was about to touch its handle, he span around for one last look, calling out a sentence that he had pocketed safely as a promise.

"I'll see you soon."

Since Derek's last encounter with you at the coffee shop, the BAU had been thrown from one case to another in the span of two weeks, during which Derek seemed to struggle eliminating the thought of you from the depth of his mind.

When a new Monday rolled around, Derek found himself whistling to a favorite tune as he took the morning route towards the coffee shop. The day was a gloomy one, gray and cloudy with a high chance of rain, contrasting entirely with the sunshine inside Derek's chest. In a few minutes, he would finally see you again, and Derek couldn't wait to woo you into agreeing on a date with him as his palm pressed on the door of the coffee shop.

Unfortunately, Derek's movements ceased the moment he stepped into the familiar establishment.

The atmosphere in the coffee shop struck no resemblance to what Derek had associated with the place: warm, safe, and welcoming. Instead, the taste of tension was hot on his tongue, sizzling under the thick silence that had rendered the entire room into a standstill.

In the middle of it all, just a few paces from where the front door stood, Derek had found you.

You were standing with your head down, which wasn't a strange sight considering that you often did that to avoid unwanted attention. But Derek never saw your lips quiver that way before, nor did he ever see your eyes blown so out of proportion in a telltale sign of fright.

Upon a further inspection of the room, Derek realized that he wasn't the only one whose eyes were trained on you. Every patron in the shop, including every worker behind the counter, was staring openly in your direction as well. He was a milisecond away from taking another step when the man in front of you started to scream out of the blue.

"Why aren't you saying anything? Are you fucking stupid?!"

The malicious words didn't sit well with the vituous bone in Derek's body. But it was seeing you flinch from the verbal onslaught that finally made Derek dash forward, putting himself as a shield between you and the insolent stranger.

"That's enough," Derek said as he tugged you behind his back.

The stranger looked up at Derek with an ugly scowl on his face. "Who the hell are you?!"

"If you have a problem, let's take this outsi--"

"I don't have a problem with you, dickhead. I have a problem with her!" Derek extended to his full height instinctively, trying to hide you from the brazen man. "Now, move. This is none of your fucking business!"

"It became my business the second you chose to disrupt everyone's morning," Derek countered. "Why don't you tell me what's going on here?"

"Why don't you ask your bitch, huh? She fucking started all of this."

"Fucking bastard."

Red clouded Derek's vision when he clenched the man's collar in his hand. All around him, the crowd erupted in a chorus of gasps. Satisfaction filled Derek's chest when he glimpsed the hint of fear in the man's eyes.

"I dare you to say one more word about her," Derek seethed. "I dare you."

"Derek." He felt your fingers then, twisting around a portion of his shirt, pulling desperately until Derek loosened his grip on the other man. "Please."

The douchebag stumbled dramatically when Derek finally discarded him to the side.

Derek span around, looking directly into your eyes for the first time that morning. "Are you alright, sweetheart?"

Instead of answering his question, you pushed past a frowning Derek, addressing the horrible man whose face was now crimson; either from rage or embarrassment, Derek didn't know. He didn't care.

"I'm sorry, sir." Your voice vibrated in the air. It wavered with a clear sign of tears. "I didn't... I wasn't thinking. I've caused you trouble. I'm sorry. And I apologize to everyone for ruining your day."

With that, you turned around and picked up your belongings that were scattered on the floor before dashing straight out of the door. Derek stared at your back until it disappeared from view.

"You better tell me what the fuck happened here," Derek fumed towards the man.

"You heard her. She fucked up, that's what happened."

"That's not true." A new voice arose. Derek turned his head to see your barrista friend standing behind the counter, their eyes flaming with anger.

"The poor girl spilled her coffee," another voice interjected. It belonged to an old lady who was standing at the very front of the line. "She didn't mean to, but it got all over his things. Then he just started screaming all kinds of stuff to her."

Derek closed his eyes before reopening them again, shooting daggers towards the man. "You're pulling this crap over a spilled fucking coffee?!"

The other man began to stutter. "She ruined important documents!"

"It wasn't even her fault," the barrista added. "He was too busy being on his phone to watch where he was going."

That last piece of information was the last straw for Derek.

He used his forearm to push the douchebag by the throat, slamming his back against the wall until the man gasped for air.

"You will never step foot in here again, do you hear me?" Derek pressed his elbow deeper into the man, stopping only when he started to nod frantically. "You don't come near this place, ever again. But most importantly, you don't come near her. I'm gonna fucking kill you if you do."

Derek let him go afterwards, ignoring the series of coughs that the man had fallen into while he marched towards the door.

"Don't even think for a minute that I'm gonna let this go!" the man shouted just as Derek was about to exit the coffee shop. "I'll be notifying the authorities about what happened here today. You'll see!"

The scoff Derek let out couldn't be more condescending. "Yeah, you do that. And when you do, tell them--" Derek reached into his pocket, pulling out his credentials before flashing it towards the man, "--the name's Agent Derek Morgan. FBI."

He slammed the door behind him.

Once outside, Derek's eyes darted around to find any trace of you in the midst of the morning rush hour. Eventually, he spotted the back of your head, walking away about a few feet ahead of him. Derek broke into a sprint almost immediately, squeezing himself in between the ocean of people, trying to catch up with you before realizing that he most like wouldn't be able to.

Just as he watched you turning a corner, Derek mourned the fact that he couldn't call out to you because he still didn't know your name.

It was the second Monday that Derek didn't see you anywhere in, or near, the coffee shop.

In total, it had been two whole weeks without you showing your face at the place, not even once. Your barrista friend was as clueless about your whereabouts as Derek was. He even had started coming into the shop at odd hours during the day, or whenever his schedule would allow him to, sometimes lingering for a few minutes in the morning just in case he would catch you walking through those doors.

You never did.

In a moment fueled by something akin to desperation, Derek found himself marching towards the office of Penelope Garcia. If there was anyone who could find you--who you were, where you were, and everything else about you--it was going to be the team's tech genius.

The tech analyst wasn't in the room when Derek entered, and as he found himself standing there--alone in the silence--Derek was confronted by how ridiculous he was being.

He couldn't understand why he was acting like this. Why the thought of never seeing you again managed to lure him into considering a breach of privacy. Derek had barely even talked to you, yet whatever brief interaction the two of you had so far was enough to affect him in ways that shouldn't be possible.

Derek decided to turn around and vacant the room before anyone could catch him lingering there like an idiot, but his steps fell short when he saw Penelope standing in the doorway.

"What are you doing here, Sugar?" Penelope questioned, her eyes squinting into a suspicion-filled look.

"Looking for you, of course," Derek lied.

"Derek Morgan, I didn't spend years working with the best profilers in the country to not be able to tell when someone is lying." Penelope walked towards her chair, making sure that she was settled comfortably before swiveling around to face Derek again. "Talk to me."

"Babygirl, there's nothing to talk about."

"Oh my God. It's about a girl."

How the fuck does she do that?

"Derek, you tell me right now every single thing about this lovely creature who has captured your heart, and I meant every single thing. What's her name? What does she do? Where did you guys meet? You guys are official, right? Because if not, then--"

"Okay, Blondie, pump your brakes," Derek interfered before Penelope could vomit the entire content of the Oxford dictionary. "There's no girl."

Penelope frowned. "There isn't?"

"No."

"But you want it to be?"

Derek couldn't give her an answer.

"Mister, you tell me what's going on right now, and don't leave out any details."

So, that was exactly what Derek ended up doing.

He told Penelope about you; about the little snippets of yourself that had infiltrated Derek's subsconscious without him even realizing it, about your first proper interraction where your smile looked more appetizing than the blueberry muffin he had put on the table, and about the incident that marked his last ever encounter with you.

By the time he wrapped the story up, Penelope's face was a heap of reactions.

"You know," the tech analyst finally said, "I can probably find her for you."

"I told you I don't want that, Sweetness."

"But why?!" Penelope nearly whined. "You like her, and her friend said she obviously likes you, too. What if you never see her again? Are you seriously just going to let your story end in what ifs?"

"Of course, I don't want that. But this is not how I want our story to start, too, if there is even gonna be one." Derek gripped Penelope's shoulder, squeezing affectionately. "Thanks for the offer, Babygirl, but maybe it just wasn't meant to be."

For the rest of that day, Derek threw himself into work in order to keep his head preoccupied with something else other than the images of you.

In a few hours, he had successfully completed all of the pending case reports that were piling on his desk. A quick glance at the clock told Derek that he still had another three hours before he was supposed to go home. Sighing, Derek got up from his desk and walked towards the pantry.

"It's been four hours," Derek heard Emily say as soon as he walked towards the kitchenette. "What are they doing there?"

"She could be a reporter. Maybe she's interviewing him," Spencer theorized.

"Who's interviewing who?" Derek asked.

He headed for the coffee maker only to realize that there was no coffee left. Derek cursed under his breath before he went to make a fresh batch.

"Rossi has a guest, and they've been in his office for four hours," Spencer explained.

Derek raised an eyebrow. "Really? I didn't see anyone."

"She came in during lunch."

"Huh. A woman?"

Spencer nodded.

"Potential lover?" Derek asked again.

"I don't think so. She's young."

"Unless, he's that kind of guy." Emily smirked.

Spencer frowned. "What kind of guy?"

"I don't think Rossi's like that." Derek chuckled.

"Who is she, then?" Emily questioned.

"Is no one going to tell me what kind of guy Rossi is?" Spencer suddenly said.

"A student, perhaps? A fan? Who knows?" Derek shrugged. "Or maybe you were right. She's here to interview him."

"Oh! Here they come!" Emily exclaimed a few minutes later.

Derek turned to steal a glance at the guest that had captured his fellow teammates' interest. But just as he was about to catch a glimpse of her, Derek suddenly spilled hot coffee everywhere, flooding nearly half the counter until some of it dripped down the cabinets as well.

"Shit." Derek stared at the mess he had made in annoyance. "Fuck me."

"She's really pretty, though," Emily pointed out--no doubt about Rossi's guest--earning an agreeing hum from Spencer.

After he had cleaned up the spilled coffee, Derek ambled back towards the direction of his desk. As he was passing the glass doors to the bullpen, however, Derek saw Rossi standing in front of the elevator, waving towards the person who had just walked inside of it.

Someone who--as Derek realized with a particularly loud thump in his chest--turned out to be you.

Derek was barely able to place the steaming cup of coffee on a random desk before he made a run for the elevator. But just as he reached Rossi's side, the elevator's doors had closed, making you vanish once more from Derek's sight.

"Shit," Derek muttered. "Shit. Shit. Shit."

Beside him, Rossi was staring in open confusion. "Morgan?"

Derek finally turned towards the older man. "The girl who was in the elevator. Who is she?"

Rossi's forehead creased. "Why?"

"Do you know her?"

"She's a fellow crime writer. She was here for a consultation," Rossi answered. "Are you gonna tell me what's going on?"

"Her name. What's her name?"

"What the hell is going on, Morgan?"

"Rossi, come on, man," Derek sounded desperate, but he didn't care. "I just need her name."

Derek barely succeeded in mumbling a quick thank you to Rossi for giving him your name before he rushed straight to the emergency stairs. The entire run down to the lobby was a blur in Derek's eyes. The only focus in his mind was about getting to you.

Once he was outside of the headquarters building, Derek saw you walking a few paces ahead of him in the direction of the parking lot. He shouted your name with all of his might, seeing you stop and turn your body around from the distance, and soon enough, he had managed to close it in a matter of seconds.

Derek was a mess of panting breaths and drumming heartbeats when he finally stood in front of you. The look you gave him spoke of surprise and bewilderment, and Derek relished in the feeling of being at the receiving end of your lovely gaze.

"Derek? What? What are you--"

"I work with Rossi," Derek stated simply.

Your eyebrows escalated in surprise. "You do?"

"Yeah. I saw you earlier with him," Derek continued. "I haven't seen you in awhile."

For the first time in what felt like forever, Derek allowed his eyes to roam over your entire person, from the top of your head to the tip your toes. There was no malice in his stare as he did, just appreciation, and maybe a little bit of longing from not having seen you in such a long time.

"I haven't been to the coffee shop again. Not after--" you swallowed the lump in your throat. "I was embarrassed. I'm so sorry."

"You have nothing to be sorry for, sweetheart."

"You got dragged into my mess. I owe you an apology."

"You owe me nothing. Okay? What happened wasn't your fault. That man was just an asshole," Derek told you truthfully. "You don't have to be worried about him anymore. He's never coming back."

His last statement caused you to lift your head up so fast, Derek was scared you were going to have a whiplash.

"Nothing happened, sweetheart," he elaborated once he saw the panic in your eyes. "I just made sure to let him know that he wasn't welcome there anymore."

The breath you let out sounded eerily similar with relief.

"Thank you, Derek. For everything," you offered shyly. "Please tell me if there's anything I could do to make it up to you."

That last sentence you uttered prompted a wide grin across Derek's face. "Actually, there may be something."

Derek took a step closer towards you then, noting the way your shoulders tensed up from his proximity. His own senses were overcome by everything about you; from the slight parting of your lips, the steady rise and fall of your chest that seemed to be growing more rapid in Derek's presence, and to the sweet plus addictive smell of your perfume.

Taking his own deep breath, Derek forced the words--the same ones that he had been keeping deep inside of him--to tumble freely into the air.

"Would you like to go on a date with me?"

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catpriciousmarjara · 6 months

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Okay so there's this dp x dc tumblr post about the JL finding the Ghost King's family tree or something and lots of misunderstandings happening but I can't find it anymore and would be grateful if someone would send it to me... Anyhow I was inspired by it and this is the result!

Also on ao3 if you wanna check it out there!

The Family Tree

"So you're telling me this is just a family tree?", Green Lantern asked with a frown on his face.

Bruce could see Constantine's eyes twitching at that question. As always, leave it to Hal Jordan to annoy people.

"This isn't just anything", the sorcerer said with narrowed eyes. "It's a Class-X magical artifact. If this thing is used as a focus for a ritual, the magnitude of magical energy would rise by at least 80 factors. For those of you non-magical or unfamiliar with magic, that's fucking huge."

Beside him Zatanna nodded, her gaze still fixed on the ancient manuscript. She hadn't taken her eyes off the scroll for more than a minute since she got to the Watch Tower and first saw it spread out on the containment room table. Constantine was the same. Captain Marvel was not present, working along with Superman, Hawkgirl, and Aquaman on a case, but his reactions have always been dissimilar from his magical colleagues, so his case might be anywhere between staying the hell away from it to trying to inhale it.

It was clear to Bruce that Zatanna coveted it, but was sensible and cautious enough to stay away from it. Constantine had no sense so he was a tossup. From where he was standing between Wonder Woman and Martian Manhunter, the Gotham vigilante resolved to keep an eye on the two magicians. They most likely won't try to steal the artifact, considering the heavy dose of 'not messing with that thing' overshadowing the desire to possess it, but the scroll itself might be enchanted to encourage covetous feelings on those nearby. It wouldn't be the first time. Better safe than sorry.

It was Diana that stepped up towards the two JL Dark members to seek more clarification. As both a Demigod and as someone familiar with magic, she was usually the one taking point on such issues.

She gestured to the scroll innocently sitting inside the runic circle the two mages had constructed around it. "You have told us that the artifact is not destructive, that it is merely a record, and that the information it contains is not a spell, or a runic arrangement, or a magic circle. You have also told us that the strange energy readings coming from it are mostly due to the material it's made out of than any catastrophic sorcery enchanted into it. You have at last decoded it as a record of a family tree. Yet it is dangerous, a Class-X relic as you've said. Given all this information, I suppose the correct question to ask here is this: why is a family tree capable of raising magical energy output by 80 factors?"

The two magicians looked at each other. Zatanna finally pried her eyes away from the scroll and faced the room.

"Magic is a force that simultaneously has laws but at the same time adheres to none. It's confusing to explain but for the time being just keep that in mind."

She walked to the center of the room, followed by Constantine, visibly trying to collect her words. Bruce prepared himself for a complicated explanation and activated another one of the batsuit's recorders. He felt the urge to sigh, for a supposed unchained force, Magic was needlessly complex at times, and practically incomprehensible to non-magicals.

At the front, Zatanna took a deep breath and began.

"As you know there are multiple dimensions. But magical dimensions come under a different category. Depending on the overall magical potential of a particular magical dimension, we call it the World State Stable Thaumaturgical Output Capacity, we can classify these dimensions in grades and levels, as either higher or lower, with relation to each other. These levels are dependent on a multitude of variables like space, time, gravity, Events, Proximity, etc and as such are non-linear, and unfixed. That's the first thing."

Bruce could practically see the capitals on the last two. Looks like they would need to hold another meeting to clarify a lot of these concepts. Seeing the dawning of lost expressions on some of the members however, Bruce mentally amended that to many future meetings.

Zatanna continued. "Magical objects from higher dimensions become stronger in lower ones. The inverse is also true. This is all in relation to the Overture and the same polarity orientation of course but we don't need to get into that now-"

On the contrary Bruce thought they really needed more explanation on all of that.

"-In simple terms, a child's toy from a higher dimension could become the focus for an apocalyptic ritual in a much lower dimension, while an apocalyptic artifact from a lower dimension might as well be paperweight in a sufficiently higher one. There are ways around it, but if those methods are not implemented, then this is how it generally goes. The larger the level difference, the higher the power."

Now that wasn't concerning at all. Bruce really needed to update his contingency plans regarding magic.

Constantine continued from where Zatanna left off, looking like he'd rather be anywhere but here.

"The second thing is that when it comes to magic, things that are indefinable or unquantifiable become definable and quantifiable. Stuff like love, hate, happiness, despair, fate, necessity, authority? All measurable. Not always needed of course, But definitely possible and frequently used in a variety of magical fields."

The sorcerer leaned against a nearby chair. "One such thing is Significance. The magic contained in true names for instance is mostly based on significance. A true name is significant to you, its a doorway to your soul, and therefore it holds power. Significance is also what we call a positive, additive factor in magic. In the absence of interfering variables, significance as a quantity is directly proportional to magical output. In other words-"

"-the more significant an object or an event, the higher the magical energy output, and consequently higher the magical power", J'onn finished. He looked towards the scroll. "The information recorded on it, the family tree as you've said, valuable in significance, most likely in terms of whose family it's a record of. In addition, the artifact is from a higher dimension with relation to ours, and that has a cumulative effect."

"Yeah exactly", said Constantine with a raised eyebrow. "Which means that if that hypothetical toy Zatanna mentioned? If that happened to be important enough, like a first toy, or a cherished gift or something like that, its significance increases, its potential increases, and in the right hands, or in the wrong hands really, that potential could be harnessed at a lower level."

There was a bout of thoughtful silence as they absorbed all of the information.

But Bruce felt as if he had been quiet enough and took the chance to ask a question of his own. "You mentioned something called the Overture, and polarity orientation. What do they mean?"

Constantine just sighed. "For fuck's sake Batsy those things aren't really important to the discussion..."

Bruce just stared.

..."Fine", the mage said in defeat. "There are many names for it, the Overture, Exordium, Legerdomain, Nascence...but the most accepted two are the Beforebirth, and the Womb. It's not a something as much as it's a someplace, but then again it's not really a place either. Simply put it's the birthplace of Magic, where it all began and all that. It can't be accessed without the Key and that's been lost for a long time. It's actually a mission for many magicals to find it you know? A holy quest for a lot of them. Some of them are straight up crazy though."

Bruce field that information safely away. Figure out a plan to combat fanatic magicians trying to find the birthplace of magic for sinister reasons. "And polarity?"

"Well", Zatanna began, "its how magic is classified according to the nature of...magic? Or rather the essence? It's hard to put in mundane terms...Anyhow broadly speaking there are two main polarities, the Obverse, and the Reverse."

For a moment, she struggled with the explanation before brightening, seemingly having found an idea.

"Picture a number line, but like on the y-axis! Zero is the Overture, Obverse dimensions are the positive number side, and Reverse dimensions are the negative numbers! The higher up the obverse dimension, the larger its magical output! Similarly, the lower down the reverse dimension, the higher its magical output."

Bruce had hardly parsed through that when their resident speedster spoke up.

"Guys", the red clad hero said, "I feel like we missed the obvious follow up question after Ollie over here...like I feel like this is important, but where exactly is the scroll from?"

As one everyone turned towards the artifact.

Constantine grimaced and Zatanna winced. They looked at each other as if asking who wanted to bite the bullet. Finally it looked as if Constantine lost. The sorcerer cursed under his breath.

"Well which dimension is the scroll from?", asked Wonder Woman.

Constantine took what looked like a fortifying breath.

"It's from the Infinite Realms."

Silence.

"What?", the Green Lantern asked intelligently.

"It's from the Infinite Realms. As in Infinite. As in end of the figurative fucking line, number line whatever!"

Everyone stared at the magicians as understanding slowly dawned.

There was what was essentially a magical nuke in the Watch Tower.

"Now", began Martian Manhunter, "this is unfortunate".

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bones4thecats · 5 months

Note

hello there!! I don't know if you write for anubis, but if you do can I request for anubis, Loki, qin shi Huang, and Tesla with a reader who have a Japanese porcelain doll-like pretty? She rarely talk and people often think she have a cold personality but she was actually shy and anxious (basically komi reader), thank youu!! :D

A/N: I have just started writing for Anubis, and other characters, you can find them on my Character List, which is linked on my Masterlist! Now, enjoy!

●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・

🐶 Anubis had first met you because of a Gods' Council meeting, boring I know!

🐶 He watched as Zeus introduced you

🐶 Your quiet and seemingly cold personality actually got him to be centered around you, as he wanted to see you smile so badly!

🐶 He tried getting you to smile so badly, and when he noticed how sweet and kind you were to a child who passed you by when running up and down the temple stairs, his heart fluttered

🐶 Every other God in his Pantheon was after your beauty, but he was after your personality

🐶 Anubis looked at you when you hid behind him, since Zeus was ogling you, again

🐶 Whenever this happened, he'd pick you up and take you back to his home where he would lay his headpiece on your head and let you play with his hair

●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・

🐍 You and him were polar opposites

🐍 Everybody is very confused and wondering what the hell went wrong

🐍 Loki was the gremlin of the Norse Pantheon while you were the angel of the Norse Pantheon, it just didn't add up

🐍 While many, including you, believed that Loki was just into your looks and teasing you for sheer fun, you all quickly learned that he did genuinely care about you

🐍 Whenever you got nervous and didn't wish to be around people, Loki would hold you in the air with him as he people watched

🐍 He also enjoys to speak, so you don't have to worry about him not liking your silence, in fact, he quite enjoys it!

🐍 Normally after he played a series of pranks, he'd hike himself in a tree and take a nap, now, he finds his new napping spot in your lap, causing you to get flustered and hide yourself

●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・

👑 He adores your personality with a passion

👑 Qin is more of a social and extroverted person, so you being more of an introvert makes people question exactly how he managed to bag you

👑 And he loves to tell the story to anybody, willing or unwilling, to lend an ear for him to speak

👑 He had met you one day while walking through a market, and he watched you hand a fruit to a hungry child before paying for it, smiling as you patted their head

👑 It took a while, but when you guys got married, he showed even more care for you

👑 Qin would hold you in his lap, allowing you to hide your face in his neck whenever there were a bunch of people in a room

👑 He also enjoys having you design him new bandannas, and while he never wore them, as he feared they'd get damaged, he would hang them up in his and your room

●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・

🧪 Tesla had been working on a special mechanism and called in one of his colleagues for some assistance on finding a special piece of machinery

🧪 He watched as he called you up and ordered the piece of metal, and he was wondering how much you knew about it all

🧪 And when you arrived and helped him place it in, giving short and very quiet recommendations, he realized how amazingly smart you were

🧪 Nikola and you connected on how much you enjoy quiet and calm environments

🧪 And all the time you guys spent together eventually led to you guys dating and getting married

🧪 Whenever he had to work, you would be either in the same room working on something yourself or at home doing something for when he got home

🧪 As he is a very busy man, he would be out of the house often, which he hoped didn't bother you, but, thankfully, it didn't

🧪 Your quiet personality and his stoic and quiet personality made a great mix, as whenever he was working, you'd just sit there and listen to his light comments as he worked

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rayassecretlife · 1 year

Text

Do you still love me?

Pairing: Aged up!Neteyam Sully x Fem!Omaticaya!reader

Summary: You and Neteyam’s family has stayed the same for many years, only one daughter who was now 4. But you fear that Neteyam doesn’t want more, scared he had fallen out of love with you after the birth.

Warning(s): Mature language, mentions of miscarriage, dad!Neteyam being a warning himself, just a lot of fluff and angst etc. not proof read

“Mama!” Your ears twitched at the voice, your daughters crying voice echoing through high camp. You had been working on one of the hunters but quickly excused yourself at her call, pushing past the groups of people to get to her voice. “Where is mama!”

“Aratakai!” The people moved away from you once they noticed, all bowing their heads as you passed and apologizing for stepping in the way. You finally got to the center of the circle, a sigh of relief leaving your chest as you made eye contact with her. “What’s wrong?” She runs to you, clinging to your leg like she had been scared somebody would take her away. You looked up at the other person, forehead creasing at him.

“Look, Y/N-“

“Bad men! Bad men!” Your four year old cries against your leg and your eyes quickly glare at him, watching his ears fall. “Try to get uncle Lo’ak”

“Y/N, I swear I didn’t mean to bring her in the middle I-“

“You brought her on your scouting trip?!” Your voice is enough to alert the whole village and everyone around you is staring at Lo’ak, watching in fear of when Neteyam would approach. He was nowhere to be seen, which was a surprise being that he could feel your emotions and most definitely could feel your rage. “I won’t even let Neteyam bring her outside the barriers! Her own father!”

“She was already out there!” He interrupts, kneeling down to your daughter who had been clinging to your leg. “Arat, tell her what you were-“

“Enough!” You hiss, reaching down to pull her into your arms. Your heart was beating terribly fast, and her cries only made it worse. “I thought you grew out of your immature faze, Lo’ak. I guess I was wrong-“

“T-try get the fruit, mama” You looked down at your daughters face, tears staining her small cheeks. “Uncle Lo’ak take me home” Your ears flatten at her words, taking a second to look back at your brother in law. He understood your frustration, he wasn’t mad at you for snapping.

“Lo’ak-“

“Make way!” One of the hunters called, the very large Ikran coming to the group. Lo’ak gave you a reassuring look and you nodded, hand pulling your daughters head to lay against you, making sure she felt safe.

“Ma’Tìyawn, what happened?” Neteyam’s voice makes her lift her head, now allowing him to see her tears. You could feel his fear and anger raise almost instantly, looking around to find the route of the problem. “Arat-“

“She got into the forest, Neteyam” You tell him, now feeling your own tears ghost your eyes. You were so worried, so angry that someone had brought her down there. She was only 4, there was no way she could’ve made it herself—not without an Ikran. “Somebody brought her down there”

Your husband looks around at your clan, jaw clenched tightly with his eyes strained on each and every one of their faces. When Arat was born, he set strict rules to never bring any harm to her. The people were sworn to protect her at all costs, so who the hell put her in danger?

Whoever it was, he was going to find out—and he was going to kill them. There was no debate about that.

“Lo’ak found her… brought her home” His eyes turn to his younger brother, watching his eyes soften at the sight of him. When Lo’ak found her, he didn’t know how she had even gotten there—so confused he searched the area for the person.

But he got caught between sky people, and Arat almost got hurt. He had never been more disappointed in himself—never been so terrified something could happen.

You and Neteyam kept her secluded from anything that involved danger. It was your biggest fear that something could happen to her because even though you’d feel like this with any child of yours, she was your only one.

You needed to protect her.

He thanked his brother before turning back to you, noticing how badly you’d been holding your tears back. “If you saw anything of my daughter leaving high camp, I suggest you tell me” He raises his voice to the clan, anger even worse now that his family was upset. “I will find whoever did this. And if not me, you better pray she doesn’t find you” The clan chants to him and his word, knowing their fear of you and neteyam was much greater then their fear of the sky people.

“As I’ve said before, my daughters safety is all of your priorities in battle! Let one finger touch her, I won’t hesitate to retaliate against you, do I make myself clear!” You close your eyes as you stroke your daughters hair, letting a few tears fall from your eyes with a sigh. You just wanted to go home now. “You are dismissed”

Lo’ak places a hand on your shoulder and presses a small kiss to his nieces head before leaving, Neteyam finally turning to tend to you and your daughter.

“Y/N-“

“I want to go home” You ignore him, turning to walk back to your cave with Arat still in your arms. He followed of course, but very confused as to why you were acting so angry at him. Why were you so upset? He understood, but there is nothing more he can do.

“Fruit?” Your daughters voice is soft against your ear and you sigh, nodding your head with a sniffle as you set her down onto her feet. Neteyam leaned against the doorway, watching your every move as you put out some of the fresh fruit you had from before. “Thanks, mama” her little lisp surfaces and Neteyam couldn’t help but chuckle, watching you wipe off her tear stained cheeks.

“Excuse me” You cleared your throat before making your way into you and Neteyam’s shared room, not even making it to the bed until his voice chimed in.

“Can you talk to me?” You continued to ignore your mate, walking over to the basket that sat on the floor to pull your small cover up from it. You already knew this argument that was bound to happen. Always doing this around in circles bullshit. “Y/N”

“Leave me alone, Neteyam. Please” yeah, now he knew you were mad. Usually you’d be all over him by now, knowing that he had to work a lot and most of the time wasn’t home to spend time with you unless it was at night before going to bed. What he didn’t know, are the thoughts you’ve been having the past couple of days.

Before you gave birth to your daughter, Neteyam would talk about wanting a huge family. He wanted boys, girls, even a pet. You wanted all those things with him, but as soon as you gave birth—it was like everything you had planned changed.

Neteyam never showed interest in mating any more, barely even seeing you during the day due to his duties. You’d cry when he wasn’t around, wishing you still had that teenage fever love. Was it the birth? Did he not love you anymore? It was so unusual for a Na’vi to lose interest in their mate, but your relationship just felt so one sided.

And then there was the miscarriage.

The loss of your second baby took a huge toll on your relationship for the worst. Neteyam and you would be constantly fighting, and you didn’t work for the longest time just trying to get out of the cave. You felt useless, the people hadn’t seen their Tsahìk for many two weeks.

That is the reason you were so protective over your daughter. She was the only child you had and probably would ever get to have. It stung, you loved the idea of a big family. You never even bothered to confront him.

“Y/N, I can feel your upset with me. What is wrong?” He grabs your hand, turning you to face him. His face was full of worry, taking in the sight of your tears in front of him. Eywa, how he hated it when you cried. His hands reach to cup your face but you push them away.

“Don’t act like you care now” His forehead creases at your words and he’s already shaking his head, more then confused as to what you had been talking about.

“What? Your crying, My love. Of course I’m gonna care-“

“Really? Because you didn’t the last few weeks” Now he was full on mugging you, knowing for a fact that if you had been crying he would’ve known. He would have felt your sadness… he should have felt everything. “Our daughter could’ve gotten hurt today, Neteyam. Where were you?”

“She’s here, isn’t she? I’m sorry I wasn’t there, but you know I have duties and you cannot worry so much. I will find out who took her-“

“Not worry so much? I don’t have a choice, Neteyam! She’s our only daughter! Our only child! If I lose her… Oh Eywa, if we lost her…” You shook your head, wiping your tears as they quickly began to fall. “She’s all I’ve ever wanted, Nete. I can’t lose her”

“That’s what this is about? Why were you crying before-“

“Because you don’t love me anymore!” You snap, your husbands jaw dropping at your accusation. Didn’t love you? Was that a joke? “Y-you promised me a family, and I give birth and you just lose all interest in me!”

“Y/N-“

“I’ve gone through so many heat cycles, Neteyam. If you don’t want more just tell me!” He was took aback by your sudden outburst, hand pulling your waist so you could be closer to him. “And then the miscarriage… Am I just not good enough anymore?”

Eywa, you were so clueless. “Not good enough? Was that a joke?” He reaches up to cup your face in his hands, finally being able to wipe the tears from your cheeks. “Y/N, my mate, my wife, my beautiful fucking Tsahìk—you really believe I don’t love you anymore?”

“Everyday I wake up to you sleeping next to me, praying to Eywa that she keeps you safe while I’m gone. Telling you how beautiful you are everytime I see you, bringing home gifts for you and Arat, talking peoples ears off about you. I can’t even remember what my life was like when I wasn’t in love with you”

“And mating? I’ve always wanted to, but it’s been so long I didn’t think you wanted to anymore… and Arat’s birth hurt you so much I didn’t want to hurt you again” He thumbs away your tears, lifting your head so you could stare directly at him. “The miscarriage was not your fault, Baby. I promise you, everything you’ve been feeling, is the exact opposite of what I feel”

“Because I love you, and I want to build a family with you. I still want it all with you, Y/N. You hear me? Don’t cry, don’t cry because of this” His confession only made your tears worsen, arms wrapping around him tightly so you could cry. You were so naive, so stupid to believe he didn’t love you. Neteyam was a busy man, you should have known.

“I don’t want to lose you, Teyam” he shushes you, hand caressing the small of your back and your hair. Lose him? As if you could get rid of him that easily. “I’m sorry…”

“Don’t be sorry, I wish you would’ve told me before so I could’ve fixed it” He sighs against you, pulling away after awhile and almost instantly taking your head back into his hands. “I love you so fucking much, Y/N. Do you hear me? Never say something like that ever again”

You sniffle, nodding your head with a small smile, leaning into your mate to press a kiss to his lips. “I love you so much more” He only pulls you back in, hands gently resting on your throat just to hold you there. He wanted you to know he was there, not going anywhere anytime soon.

“So, about baby number two?”

This is probably bad, I threw this together randomly butttttt finished in an hour so new record 🤭. Enjoy this little fluff while I prepare my smut writings!!

#avatar fanfiction #avatar the way of water #avatar #avatar 2 #avatar x you #neteyam #neteyam sully #neteyam sully x y/n #neteyam x reader #avatar james cameron #neteyam fluff #neteyam gif #atwow neteyam #neteyam angst

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circeyoru · 2 months

Text

Gift = Requested

[Alastor x Cupid!Reader]

The Request

A running gag Alastor would use was that you shot him with one of your love arrows. Then you would firmly deny it and swear that your powers over love weren’t the reason for his infatuation with you. Both of you use it as a playful tease, nothing too serious

You were Cupid, the famous or infamous for your control over love and desire, both for love and hate. Your godly powers can’t be denied and you didn’t have an equal as no one could overcome you and your powers

Mainly working on Earth, you did your job to nudge the soul into the ‘right’ lover. For Heaven folks, you didn’t want to since it was all ‘perfect’ there. In Hel though, well, you saw that the place was already a loss cause so you never even tried. You may have for the pure-hearted ones, like two of the sins that found their love that they would protect for life

Your powers were more like that spark that people would say ‘love at first sight’ or something, you didn’t like the part that you could manipulate love and desire like those stupid love potions (looking at Valentino and Velvette). When you come across one that’s under such influence, you summoned a black arrow of hatred and fired

It was when Alastor witness the play between you and the Vees that he got interested. You had a pair of white wings behind you, but you weren’t an exterminator. You carry a bow with magically appeared arrows and not spears. Your white wings were also much smaller than that of an angels

You didn’t realize you were watched and continued your ‘fun’ sabotaging the love potion produced by the three Overlords. If they wanted to manipulate love, then you can play too. They should honestly be glad you didn’t fire any arrows directly at them

Love is powerful. With a love arrow, you can have the target at your feet, begging for your attention and interest. With a hate arrow, you can have the target self-loath themselves to destruction. You wield power that can be an equivalent to a god’s, but you kept yourself grounded, prefering to interact with the commonality

Since you were holding back, you didn’t realize Vox’s sneak attack. You were that one person and it was one against three! Before Vox could even touch you, he was knocked back by a black shadow that dispersed to reveal a demon in red. You blinked as you stared at your saviour

“Are you quite alright, my dear? That was a close call.” Alastor’s radio voice spoke

You only managed a nod, still shocked that a demon actually came to your rescue. Normally all demons would steer clear of you. Because you look like an angel with your angels and bow. So you were used to the solo travelling and defending

“This has nothing to do with you!” Vox shouted when he got back, he pointed at you, making you hide behind Alastor who proved to be a very very suitable shield. “We’ll settle this later but now,” He gestured to Valentino and Velvette, then himself, “We have a score to settle with that b*tch Cupid!”

“Cupid?” Alastor tilted his head with mild confusion and interest. His head turned 180 and looked down at you, you waved and chuckled, greeting him. He hummed and turned his head back, “Well, I would like some time with the little darling as well! A shame, I don’t like sharing.”

“You used one of your arrows on that f**k face, didn’t you!” Velvette accused, also pointing a finger at you. “Now who’s the hypocrite!”

You peeked your head from behind Alastor, shouting back, “I would never! I don’t even know he was here!”

A fight turned into a squabble as the two sides shouted at each other, Alastor finding himself at the center of something amusing sure, but the attention didn’t seem to be on him. For once, the Vees were focused on a target together that wasn’t him. You were an interesting one. Very entertaining

From then onward, Alastor would seek you out when he knew you were merely a visitor in Hell. You home and work was on Earth as ‘Cupid’ though not your real name, it was one that everyone called you by so you just went with it. Humans and their obsession with higher power

You’d let Alastor hang around you as you stroll in Hell, sometimes even finding couples that you helped in Hell happy together. You would see the same in Heaven, but there were more heartbreaks because their other half would be in Hell for ‘wrongdoings’. It wasn’t your place, but you offered them a peace of mind with your third arrow of blankness. To forget the love and desire held to their target. Naturally, you did it with their consent and you’d travel to Hell to search for that target to offer the same path

Through your work and shadowing you, Alastor learned that you were one that took your duty seriously. It reminds him of his fixation with radios and the older times. While he didn’t think of you as a pawn to use, given that you had no soul and aren’t always around, he preferred your company

The best thing out of your relationship with him was your connections. You told him that your powers weren’t purely romantic on the 1-year anniversary of your relationship together. He was puzzled until you listed examples, from love towards work to friendship love, to even familial love

He wouldn’t forget that moment

When your soft finger poked where his heart would be and laid your entire palm over his beating black heart, you were slightly hovering with your small wings lifting you so you could lean over the meal table prepared by Alastor himself. “There’s another love in you that’s strong. I’m not talking about your love to me.”

Familial love. You were referring to his mother. He felt like the world suddenly went deafly silent as his attention focused on the words that came out of your moving lips. You prepared a gift for him, one that his mother wish to gift you as well. You removed the locket from your neck and passed it to him. It was a manifestation of your power, but it was one that meant so much to him because of what held within

You placed the necklace in his hand, forcefully making him cup it so he wouldn’t drop it since he was still in a state of shock. You gave him a quick kiss and thanked him for his preparations for the anniversary. You gave him his space and left

Alastor went to his forest, the necklace in hand. He walked through the forest, calmly and slowly, replaying that moment over and over as if to reassure him it was real. You found his mother in Heaven, you’ve been talking to her, she missed his sweet boy, she was happy to hear he was doing well, she was relieved to hear he had his partner finally. He looked down at the locket

He found a place to sit down, using his shadows to form a barrier. Absolutely nothing must interrupt him right now. Then he brushed over the surface of the locket and it glowed, a female figure formed, his tears threatened to form. “Mother.”

You hummed a tune as you stared up at the red sky. You knew this was when Alastor was contacting his mother. It took a while for you to perfect, but it was well worth it. Besides, it was because the love between Alastor and his mother was that strong that you were able to link the two. While they can’t physically be near each other, you hoped this would do for now

Alastor filled your void and then some, so you wanted to repay him in some way. You saw the way his love shined when he was talking about his mother and you saw the way her love shined when talking about her precious son. The two were separated by the realms, but they still love the other even with all this time and distance. You admit, you admire that because their love for each other was pure and strong

Since you didn’t do anything on your part

“My love.”

“That was quick, how was—” You didn’t get to finish your sentence when you felt yourself hugged from behind. “I’ll take a weird guess and say that you liked your anniversary gift?”

Alastor turned you around, staring at you with that look in his eyes. It was much like that time the two of you first met. Interest and fondness, though now there’s love mixed into it. “My beloved. Your gift to me can’t be compared.”

He hugged you even tighter, he was scared this was all a dream and you’d be gone from his life or you can’t ever return to Hell to see him. Every time you felt Hell for your duties, he lost all connection to you, he couldn’t sense you or feel your presence. He feared that you’d leave him for Heaven since Hell was no place for a being as lovely as you

The two of you shared a kiss but not before Alastor whispered to you, “You are already a gift to my soul.”

Note: This might as well be a post, but meh. I'm lazy to do it. I'm working on the other requests, will be posted soon I think

Circe Y.

Other works: MASTERLIST

Taglist:

@aconfusedwonderland

@crowleysthings

@donustellaron

#Gift #alastor imagine #alastor x reader #alastor x y/n #alastor x you #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor headcanons #hazbin hotel fanfiction #alastor #hazbin hotel oneshots #Circe's Nighty Writings #Circe's requested writings

160 notes · View notes

bingwriterxo · 11 months

Text

sisters, sisters

pairing: tara carpenter x reader, sam carpenter x reader

summary: in which two people ask you out, and you make a decision

warnings: none

word count: 2800+

author's note: here she is! definitely more tara-centric, but that's ok!

Tara (8:43 pm): come over. now.

Mindy (8:44pm): u good T??

Chad (8:46pm): On our way

Tara (8:47pm): doors open

Tara (8:47pm): let urselves in

* * *

It was a madhouse in the Carpenter-Bailey apartment when Mindy and Chad arrived. There were pillows strewn all over the living room; plant pots had been knocked from their places on the back table, leaving scatters of dirt across the floor; the corkboard that usually hung next to the doorway to the kitchen was on the ground; and, to top it all off, Sam and Tara were arguing at the top of their lungs with a very stressed-looking Quinn in between them, her arms out to keep the sisters from jumping at one another.

“Thank god you guys are here!” Quinn said when she caught sight of the twins walking through the front door. “I don’t know what to do with them!”

Tara and Sam didn’t seem to hear the redhead--or chose to blatantly ignore her--as they continued their screaming match.

“She was my friend first, Sam!” Tara shouted.

“So?! That doesn’t mean you have dibs on her!” Sam yelled.

“Woah!” Mindy exclaimed, interrupting the two. They turned their sights on her, anger raging behind both of their eyes. Mindy would’ve been intimidated--scared, even--if she didn’t know that the two were harmless (unless, of course, she was wearing a black robe and a stupid Halloween mask). “First of all, you can't call dibs on anyone,” she said, like it should have been obvious to the sisters, which it should have. “Second, what the hell is going on here?”

Sam sighed, pressing the heel of her palm to her forehead. Tara clenched her jaw and balled her hands into fists; she was clearly the more aggravated of the two.

“Sam’s a bitch,” Tara seethed.

Before Sam could respond, Chad butted in. “Guys, come on. Why don’t we just sit down and have a nice, calm talk?” he suggested, gesturing toward the couch.

“Please,” Quinn agreed, falling into the armchair. “I can’t play mediator anymore.”

“Fine,” Tara huffed. She sat on the couch, tense, and crossed her arms over her chest as Sam did the same on the other end, and though she was more relaxed than Tara, she made sure to leave enough space between them that a large elephant could fit.

Mindy and Chad made their way to the center of the room, staring at the sisters. The air was thick with tension, and Mindy rolled her eyes when neither Sam nor Tara made the first move to speak.

“Okay,” Chad started, “so what’s wrong?”

“Didn’t I just say what’s wrong?” Tara snapped. “My sister’s a bitch.”

“T,” Mindy said sharply. “This is supposed to be nice and calm. No attitude.” She looked at Sam, hoping that she would be more cooperative considering the fact that she was older and, usually, the more reasonable of the two. “What’s going on?”

Sam inhaled deeply. “I tried to talk to Tara earlier, and she completely blew up at me.” She gestured around the room. “As you can tell.”

“Oh, that’s not fair!” Tara complained. “Tell them what you told me.”

“All I said was that I want to ask Y/N out on a date.” Sam shrugged. “I didn’t really think it would be a problem, but I know all of you guys are closer to her than I am, so I wanted to tell Tara before I did anything.”

Chad hummed, confused, and Mindy furrowed her eyebrows. “And, Tara, why is that a problem?” she asked.

Tara mumbled something beneath her breath, and everyone leaned closer as though it would help them hear her. She glared at the group, sighed, and then rushed out, “Because I want to ask Y/N out.”

Mindy’s jaw dropped, Chad’s eyes practically popped straight out of his head, Quinn made a noise akin to a surprised baby, and Sam let out a soft, “Oh.”

It was silent for a moment, and the tension somehow seemed to thicken. Tara fidgeted uncomfortably beneath the eyes of her friends, shifting where she sat and playing with the skin around her fingernails.

“It’s not that big of a deal guys,” she finally muttered after the silence became too much. It snapped everyone from their thoughts, and they all started talking at once.

“We just didn’t know--”

“I mean, I had no idea--”

“You never said anything--”

“I can’t believe I didn’t realize sooner--”

They spoke over one another until they realized that nothing they were saying was intelligible, and when they stopped, Mindy took the lead. She knelt down in front of Tara and took her hands in her own.

“You never told us you were into girls, T,” Mindy said.

Tara shrugged. “I just didn’t think I had to do the whole ‘coming out’ thing. I wanted to be able to bring a girl home, preferably Y/N”--she glared at Sam, who huffed--“and say, ‘This is my girlfriend’ and have that be it.”

Mindy nodded. “Okay. Fair enough. Then we won’t make this a big deal.” She stood. “But we still have the pressing issue to deal with.”

“I can’t believe you guys both like the same girl,” Quinn said, a teasing smirk on her lips. Everyone looked at her with narrowed eyes; she was not helping the situation. “What? This is fucking hilarious!”

Chad shook his head. “Anyway…” He inhaled deeply. “What’re we gonna do? You can’t both ask Y/N out. I think the girl would combust.”

Mindy snapped her fingers and pointed at her brother. “No, I think you’ve got an idea there.” She turned to the women on the couch. “You two should both ask Y/N out. She’ll only say yes to one of you, and this whole thing will be solved.”

“So, we both ask Y/N out…and she chooses?” Tara asked, unsure of the idea of even letting her sister have a chance.

Mindy tilted her head and shrugged. “Well, yeah. I mean, we can’t choose for her. Just…don’t do it at the same time, or on the same day. Chad’s right: she probably would combust if that happened.”

“What about the person she says no to?” Sam asked.

Quinn spoke up. “They’d have to suck it up and accept that Y/N doesn’t like them that way.” She shrugged. “This really is the best way to solve things.”

“What do you think?” Sam asked as she looked at Tara.

“I have a feeling you’ll ask her out even if I say no,” Tara said.

Sam shrugged. “Yeah, probably.”

Tara bit the inside of her cheek, unraveled her hands, and held one out. “Fine. We’ll both ask Y/N out. When you get rejected, you’ll forget you ever thought about her in a way other than friendship.”

Sam scoffed and rolled her eyes but still reached out to shake her sister’s hand. “Whoever gets rejected will forget they thought about Y/N in a romantic way.”

Tara hummed. “Deal.”

“Deal.”

“See?” Mindy said. “That wasn’t so hard!”

Chad fell onto the couch between the sisters. “So, how’re you guys gonna do it?”

* * *

“I just don’t know what to do, JJ,” you said with a sigh, falling back onto your bed. You held your phone above your face so that you could see your best friend on FaceTime. “I mean, she’s so funny, and she’s smart, and she really cares about me--I can tell.” You could feel your cheeks heat up at just the mention of her.

JJ furrowed her eyebrows. “So, what’s the problem? Ask her out, stupid.”

“I can’t.” You bit your bottom lip. “It would mess up…everything.”

“It would only mess things up if she says no, and from the way you talk about her, she’s not gonna say no.”

“No, you don’t get it. Even if she says yes, it would, like, destroy the friend group, and I don’t want to do that. I love these guys. Obviously, they don’t compare to you, but they’re pretty decent people otherwise.” You dragged your free hand down your face and groaned, your stomach dropping at the thought of losing the friends you had made at college. “I hate having feelings for people.”

She chuckled. “You just need to learn to not have feelings for people you’re friends with.”

“Wait until you meet her,” you said. She’s fucking perfect, you thought. “It’s easier said than done.”

“I still think you should do it.” JJ shrugged. “If these people are really your friends, they won’t let your guys’ relationship get in the way. They’ll be happy for you, probably, since you won’t be pining over her anymore.”

“I’m not pining over her!” She gave you an ‘are-you-sure-about-that?’ look. You rolled your eyes. “Okay, maybe I’m pining over her a little bit.” Her face didn’t change. “Okay! A lot!”

She smirked victoriously, and you sighed. “That’s what I thought.”

“I hate you, you know that?”

“You love me--”

JJ was interrupted by a sharp knock on the front door of your apartment. You sat up and furrowed your eyebrows, confused. No one’s coming over today, right?

“What is it?” JJ asked.

“Someone’s at the door.” You shrugged and glanced back at her. “Probably one of my roommates’ friends--” The knock came again, harder this time, and you groaned. “I should get that, I guess. I’ll call you later, okay?”

“Yeah. Talk later.”

You shuffled out of your bedroom and to the front door, peeking through the peep-hole. You couldn’t see much beside a head of brown hair and the tint of tan skin, and your heart sped up.

Is it…?

You whipped the door open, grinning from ear to ear, but your smile faltered as you saw who stood in the hallway.

Sam.

She looked up at you, smiling the way you were just seconds ago, her eyes shining with an emotion you couldn’t read. “Hey,” she said.

“Uh, hi,” you said, voice a little too high with disappointment. You cleared your throat. “What’s up?”

Sam shifted on her feet, tucked her hands into her jacket pockets, and swallowed hard. “Could I come in?” she asked.

You could tell she was a little nervous--she was never usually so fidgety--so you nodded and opened the door wider, gesturing for her to step inside. You shut the door behind her and spun around, watching her expectantly.

She sighed and ran a hand through her hair. She opened her mouth, like she was about to say something, and then closed it again. It was starting to make you anxious—seeing someone so confident and sure-of-herself suddenly reduced to nothing more than nerves. You were going to speak up, ask her what was wrong, but you didn’t get the chance as her question tumbled from her lips.

“Would you want to go on a date with me?”

Your eyes widened in shock, mouth falling agape as all of your limbs suddenly felt frozen. You watched as Sam began to shrink in on herself, and a pang of sorrow struck deep in your chest.

“I--I--” you stammered. You inhaled deeply and regained your thoughts. “Sam, I’m sorry if I ever gave you the wrong idea…but I don’t like you that way.” Her face fell, and you frowned, hating yourself for having to hurt her. “I’m sorry.”

She took a shaky breath and shook her head, eyes glancing down. “It’s fine.”

“Sam--” You reached out, wanting to offer her some sort of comfort, but it felt wrong if it were to come from you, since you were the reason she needed comforting in the first place.

“It’s okay, Y/N.” She looked at you again and tried to offer you a small smile. It fell flat. “Really, it is.”

You bit the inside of your cheek. “I hope this doesn’t change anything between us. You’re a great friend, Sam, and I’d hate for that to be any different now.”

Sam nodded. “Yeah. No, yeah, of course. Nothing’s gonna change.” She shifted again. “I should probably get going.”

“Okay.” You moved to open the door, then paused and looked at her again, anxiety hitting you like a train. “You sure we’re okay?” You didn’t want to lose her, not because of this.

Her features softened as she took you in, picking up on the turmoil coursing through you. “I promise. We’re fine.”

You sighed. “Okay.” You opened the door and watched as she started to leave. She was halfway down the hall when you called out to her. “You really promise?”

She turned around, chuckled softly, and offered you a smile. “I really promise.”

* * *

Even though Sam had double-promised that things were okay between the two of you, and had made good on that promise by inviting you over for dinner with the rest of the group later that same night (to which you had lied and claimed you were busy), you still found yourself wallowing in your bed for the next few days, the image of Sam’s upset-face burned into the backs of your eyelids. You hadn’t even been the one to be rejected, yet you still felt sorry for yourself--sorry that you had to hurt a friend, sorry that you couldn’t like her back, sorry that you had been wishing it was her sister.

You were in the midst of your new daily routine--watching TikToks for hours on end while tucked beneath the comfort of your favorite blanket (that Tara had gifted you for your birthday just a few weeks prior)--when Mindy’s face suddenly appeared on screen, her contact picture sticking its tongue out at you.

Your thumb hovered over the decline button, more than tempted to press it and let yourself fall back into the monotonous routine of scrolling, but the longer you stared at Mindy’s photo, the more you knew you couldn’t avoid her.

“Hey,” you croaked as you answered. Your voice was rough, your throat sore from not using it.

“And where the hell have you been?” Mindy asked quickly, her voice loud over your speaker. You cringed slightly at her words and tried to bury yourself deeper into your mattress.

“I’ve been, you know…around.”

She hummed. “Yeah, okay. Well, I thought I’d give you some sort of heads-up because Tara is on the way to your apartment right now.”

You shot up, holding the phone close to your ear. “What?! Why?!”

“That is a question I cannot answer!” she said.

“Mindy, what--”

Your phone clicked as she hung up.

Almost immediately, there were soft knocks against the front door of your apartment. You scrambled out of your bed, grabbing a pair of sweatpants and a random sweatshirt from the floor and throwing them on, not bothering to check if they matched.

“I’m coming!” you called out as you walked toward the front door, your head stuck in the armhole of your hoodie. Fucking hell, you thought. Pull yourself together. Once you could finally see again, you pulled the door open and inhaled sharply at the sight.

Tara stood in the hallway, a shy smile on her lips and a blush painting her cheeks, making her freckles stand out even more than usual. One of her arms was outstretched, and in her hand was a bouquet of flowers, waiting to be taken by you.

“Hi,” she said, and just her voice made your heart skip a beat.

“Hey.” You opened the door fully and she slipped inside.

She pushed the flowers further in your direction. “These are for you.”

Your eyes widened. “Oh!” You took them from her, your fingers brushing over her own as you did, and a jolt of electricity zipped up your arm. You tried to ignore it as you said, “Thanks, Tar.”

“Sure.” Her voice was shaking slightly; well, she was shaking slightly.

“Why did you--”

“I want to take you on a date,” she said suddenly and all at once, like she wouldn’t have been able to say the words unless they fell out of her mouth in a jumble.

Deja vu washed over you, sending a shiver down your spine, and all you could get out was a soft, “What?”

Tara tried again, her words slower and more calculated. “If it’s okay with you, I’d like to take you on a date.”

You swallowed, your brain short circuiting, and, in your stupidity, asked, “What about Sam?”

She raised her eyebrows in surprise, unsure of how to respond. “Uh--” A beat of silence passed between you before she found something to say. “Sam’s okay with it. She doesn’t--she doesn’t mind.”

“Oh.” You nodded and glanced down at your feet, suddenly too aware of the way the seams of your socks were resting against your toes. A blush was forcing its way up to your ears in embarrassment. What about Sam?! you thought. You fucking idiot! Who says that? “Cool.” Jesus Christ.

Tara clicked her tongue. “Yeah.” She shoved her hands into her back pockets. “So, about that date, then?”

She was watching you with wide, hopeful eyes, and the softest of smiles, and, god, you just wanted to fall into her.

“Yeah,” you said, nodding. “Yeah. A date--that sounds good. That sounds really good.” Just shut up, me! You offered her your own smile, watching as she lit up with excitement and joy and--Would it be weird if I kissed her right now?

Tara bit her lip as she grinned, her dimples prominent. “No, I don’t think that would be weird.”

You paled. “Did I--Did I say that last bit out loud?”

She giggled and nodded. “Yeah. Kind of.”

“Oh.” You gulped. “But…it would be okay?”

“It would be more than okay.”

And then your lips were pressed against her, and she sighed into you, and neither of you thought about the flowers that were being squished between you.

bonus: jj <;3 (10:59pm): u done pining yet?

you (11:06pm): shut the fuck up.

#tara carpenter x reader #tara x reader #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega #sam carpenter x reader #sam carpenter #melissa barrera x reader #melissa barrera #scream 6 #scream 5

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rosewaterandivy · 5 months

Text

i. incandescent glow

summary: have you ever been so alone you spend the day confusing a man in a coma?

pairing: assumed e.m x reader, eventual s.h x reader

warnings: my blog is 18+ MDNI; mutual pining, yearning, miscommunication, poorly-wired idiot signals, vague nineties vibes, asshole-ish rockstar eddie, best friend & store manager steve, drug abuse, comas and hospitals, found family, hop and wayne knocking sense into people, eventual smut, schmaltzy rom-com goodness, mention of thanksgiving, christmas, and new year's holidays

w.c.: 8.2k

a/n: when I say that writing this kicked my ass, I'm tellin' you I had a rough time. @bettyfrommars this flannel-wearing Steve is for you especially! Please enjoy & I hope y'all like it 🥹

series m.list | playlist | currently spinning:

Steve hadn’t planned for his life to amount to this, he’d simply blinked and found himself in a new decade, still rewinding tapes at Family Video. Granted, he’s district manager now and has several stores in the area he��s responsible for.

Meanwhile, Eddie got the hell outta dodge and Corroded Coffin actually made something of themselves. Two albums under their belt and a forth-coming world tour after the holidays, and, more recently, a cover on the Rolling Stone. Ed had called him up once it was all finalized, “Can you fuckin’ believe it man?!”

And, Steve loves Eddie, so he could actually believe it. He tries and fails to keep his jealousy at bay, Ed is one of his best friends for christ sakes. Steve is happy for him, he really is, despite the revolving doors at rehab centers dotting the west coast, late night calls from strangers because Munson passed out in someone’s bathroom again.

He is, after all, Eddie’s emergency contact. Gareth approached him after the second stint at rehab and suggested it, thought it would be the best all things considered. Steve readily agreed and signed the forms, kept his pager on him, and dutifully smoothed things over when Eddie’s benders got a bit too much.

So, he’s rewinding tapes when his pager goes off. He glances at the number and drags the phone across the counter. Nestling the handset between his shoulder and cheek, he punches in the numbers and shoves the tape in a plastic case to be shelved later.

“Hello, this is Hawkins Memorial Hospital. How may I direct your call?” a kind, if perfunctory voice recites. He can hear the hustle and bustle of the hospital waiting room, muted conversations and the ringing of phones.

“Hi, this is Steve Harrington. I received a page from this number regarding Eddie Munson.” Steve eyes the clock, he’s on closing shift by himself already having sent he employees home to celebrate with their families.

“Yes, one moment please.” The receptionist places him on hold, allowing Steve to rewind a couple more tapes and sort them for shelving. “Mr. Harrington?” the line roars back to life, no longer the receptionist, but the doctor in charge of Eddie’s care instead. “Mr. Munson came into the hospital unresponsive but breathing, he was revived by a…” He rattles off a name that Steve has never heard before. “His, fiancée, as I understand it.”

Steve feels the floor sway under his feet.

Eddie.

With a fiancée?

“She’s here now and in a bit of shock, as you can expect. Since you’re his emergency contact, we wanted to alert you of his current state as well as get any contact information for family and friends that need to be made aware.”

“Oh, uh, sure.”

The doctor continues to relay that they’ve elected to place Eddie under a medically induced coma for the time being, to allow his body to flush the drugs from his system before assessing for any further damage.

Steve is transferred to a medical assistant who takes down Wayne and Hopper’s information. He figures between the two men the job will get done, but let’s be real, it’ll be Joyce that activates the phone tree and calls the kids, and he plans to swing by the hospital later that evening once he’s closed up.

Grabbing the stack of tapes and begins to shelve them with a shake of his head. It would be just like Eddie to get engaged and not be fucked to tell anyone. Returning to the counter, he fiddles with the cuffs of his flannel shirt— Robin got it for him the last time she swung through town, insisted that Steve’s wardrobe needed some serious upgrading and all but thrust it upon him.

“It brings out your eyes,” She said, leaning against the wall outside the dressing room. Her worn boots kicked against one another, half of her reflected in the mirror while Steve assessed.

“It’s brown.”

“And gold!” She turns him around to press down the collar and pop the first two buttons of the shirt open. “It’s color theory man, just trust me on this, okay?”

Which is how Steve found himself the new owner of several flannel shirts of varying hues. And boots. When he complained it was all too lumberjack-like, Robin shushed him and continued to flirt with the cute check-out girl.

But that had been months ago. It was coming on Thanksgiving now and his two best friends had been too busy traveling or showing art pieces to even call. He doesn’t mind, not really— well, he tries not to. Steve gets it, people are busy, things to do and people to see.

The remainder of his shift goes by slowly. Kids home from school, families coming in by the dozen. Steve manages to complete a few menial tasks in between customers, throws on Planes, Trains and Automobiles just to have something on in the background.

He’s helping a regular when his pager beeps again, this time flashing Robin’s number. The door dings as they leave and Steve’s already wedged the phone to balance against his shoulder once more as he leans and elbow on the counter.

“Eddie has a fiancée?!” is the thing she screeches down the line. “When the fuck did that happen? Harrington, you’re supposed to keep me aware of these things!”

He signs and scrubs a hand down his face, “I’m his emergency contact, not his guardian.”

“Have you met her? What’s she like?”

“I don’t—”

“I got the first flight out of the city. Which means I had to go to LaGuardia blech,” She makes a gagging sound down the line. “Jonathan’s picking me up now from Indy. Oh my god, is she pretty?” Robin pings between her travel plans and hypothesizing about Eddie’s girl, “I bet she’s a total knock-out, knowing him. How did they meet? D’ya think she’d pose for me?”

“Slow down there, killer.” Steve laughs, “Might want to meet the girl first before propositioning her.”

She huffs a laugh, “You’re right, of course. She’d probably think I’m insane or something. What would I do without you Stevie?”

“Probably scare off more chicks than you already do.”

“Oh, go fuck yourself Harrington.” Robin’s laugh is loud and warm, soothing something in his gut. “I’ll see you tonight, dingus.”

“Sure, stay safe. Call me later, bye.” He places the phone back in its cradle and has half a mind to check the room behind the curtain, just in case some teenagers slipped past without him noticing, but then the phone rings.

“Thank you for calling Family Video, this is Steve. How may I help you?”

“Uh, hi.” A voice says down the line, small and tight. You introduce yourself, quickly followed by, “I’m at the hospital, with, uh Eddie?”

“Oh! Hi, how’s he doing?”

“Good, still in the coma.”

Steve can hear some voices filtering through the mic, loud and familiar.

“So, Hop and Wayne made it? That’s good.”

“Yeah, yeah, Joyce too. The kids are here too, I guess? It’s all a bit overwhelming.”

He huffs a laugh, “Yeah, I can only imagine.” He occupies himself with the slinky on the counter, much preferring to hear your voice than deal with the families that just walked in, ten minutes to close. “You holding up okay?”

An intake of breath, “Mmhm.”

It’s a feeling he knows well.

You’re overwhelmed by all these people you’d never met, on top of the fact that your fiancee is in a coma. Steve feels like shit, having you handle all of that by yourself. If he hadn’t stupidly sent the mid-shift employees home early, he would have been there to help you navigate it all.

“Joyce wants to know if you’re coming by after work. If we should wait for you,” You say after a beat or two of silence, “Or if you’ll just meet us at the house for Thanksgiving tomorrow?”

Steve rolls his neck in an effort to relieve the built-up tension there, bones popping, he rubs a hand at the nape of his neck. “Could you put her on real quick?”

He listens as the phone changes hands and Joyce’s comforting voice intones, “Steve?”

“She’s freaking out.”

“What?”

He sighs, “The fiancée, she sounds like she’s in a bad way.” He checks out the straggling customers, “Don’t wait on my account. I’ll see Ed after I’m done here.”

“Okay, Steve.”

“Does she have a place to stay? I know Rob is crashing with you and Hop—”

Joyce laughs, “We’ll have a full house I suppose. I can put Jonathan on the couch or something, don’t worry about it Steve.”

“Right. Okay.” He gives the final customer a smile and wave as they wish him a happy holiday. “I’ll see you later.”

Hanging up the phone, Steve walks to the door to turn the lock and flip the sign to ‘closed.’ He lingers against the door, resting his forearms against the bar, watching as the snow falls against the dark sky. Wonders how it is that just from the sound of your voice, he felt himself falling not unlike snowflakes outside.

Earlier that day

Turns out, landing the Corroded Coffin interview was not the boon to your career you thought it would be.

Maybe you’d set yourself up for failure. And it didn’t help that you had one big, fat embarrassing crush on a member of the band. Generally, being a fan of the artist coupled with the tendency to romanticize things in your mind only led to disaster.

Or, in your case, attempting to revive the frontman of the aforementioned band on the bathroom floor.

Eddie Munson was unresponsive at your feet, a panoply of pills and baggies scattered across the floor. Having no time to think, you launch into action— checked for breathing and finding none began CPR followed by chest compressions, all while yelling for help.

Gareth is the one to find you, compressing Eddie’s chest with your two hands in between administering two breaths after every 30 counts.

“Call an ambulance!”

You can’t even bring yourself to feel sorry about your tone, harried and frantic, as he stumbles out to call 911. Thankfully, the paramedics are quick. One paramedic asks, “You’re his fiancée?”

Dumbly, you nod, too in shock to register what’s been said. Someone guides you down the steps and into the front of the ambulance strapping you in with a seatbelt. He can’t just die, you reason, not when Corroded is just taking off— a world tour in the new year and a cover story with Rolling Stone.

Your editor would have your head if something were to go wrong. Munson was notoriously picky with interviews and reporters, it was a miracle they’d approved you for the job. Rumor has it that he’d have much preferred Nancy Wheeler, but the board wasn’t keen to bring in a free-lance reporter for the job.

Somehow, this would be your fault.

Arriving at the hospital isn’t any better. Gareth and the other band members stayed behind to call management and see what was to be done about Eddie, and made you promise to call them once you’d arrived at Hawkins Memorial.

Nevermind that you’re alone in a town you’d never stepped foot in before today. And all at Eddie Munson’s behest.

They rushed him off past the swinging double-doors, out of your reach. Stepping to the front desk, you ask the receptionist where the nearest pay-phone is, and she offers you one of the hospital phones instead.

Dialing the number hastily scribbled onto your hand, your fingers brush along the plastic keys listening for the trill of the ring down the line.

“Hi, Gareth? We made it to the hospital, they took him back with a team of doctors and nurses.”

“You didn’t go back with him?”

“It’s family only, I think?” You scratch the back of your neck nervously. “It’s not a big deal, I can stay in the lobby until you get here.”

“Yeah, that’s gonna be a while…”

He goes on to explain that their team has to meet and discuss next steps. The band can’t leave until they’ve done so and their manager asked them to stay put.

“That’s shitty.”

He hums his agreement.

“And I’m just supposed to stay here by myself? I don’t—”

“That’d be great, that is, if you don’t mind,” Gareth interrupts. “They’ll call his emergency contact soon enough. But we’d really appreciate having someone we know there until then.”

“Oh, okay.”

He thanks you for being so cool with all of this and says his goodbyes. With a short smile, you hand the phone back to the receptionist. Heaving a sigh, you drop your head into your hands and lament, “I was gonna marry him.”

Unbeknownst to you, Eddie’s attending nurse overhears you and recalls how the paramedic who brought him in said something about a fiancee. Turning toward you, she places a delicate hand on your back. You jump with a start and look up.

“You’re the fiancée, right?”

“Wh–”

“It’s okay honey, he’s doing fine. I’ll take you back there now.”

Allowing yourself to be guided by the kind nurse as she prattles on about something or other, you wonder how to get yourself out of this. No one was going to buy that Eddie Munson has a secret fiancee. If he was awake, he’d probably laugh you out of the room himself.

But, as it was, they’d placed him in a medically induced coma to let the drugs work their way out of his system. A small miracle, that. The doctor briefs you on his status, all of which flies directly out of your brain, too focused on how small he looks in the bed. Tubes dripping fluids and machines whirring or beeping every so often. Tattoos a stark contrast to the pallor of his skin, a sharp relief against a marble canvas.

A medical assistant approaches you and asks about an emergency contact or the contact information of family and friends.

“I don’t–”

The dazed look in your eye must give something away because the assistant attempts to pat your back comfortingly before saying they’ll check his personal effects.

The nurse, impossibly kind, rests a hand on your shoulder, “Let him hear your voice, honey.”

Her shoes squeak along the tile floor as she leaves. There’s a brief reprieve where you’re left alone with Eddie in the hospital room. The nurse and medical assistant flit in and out occasionally, making notes in his chart here and there. But you’re transfixed by the man in front of you— beautiful and impossibly out of reach. He was even before the interview, you rationalize, but now he’s even more so. It’s bittersweet, almost, makes you want to reach out and hold the hand at his side, silver rings glinting in the fluorescent lights.

“Hi,” You greet. “I bet you’re wondering what I’m doing here, huh?” You take the seat closest to him. “Well, I didn’t really get a chance to introduce myself, so here it goes.” Taking a sip from the coffee the nurse left to fortify you, you recite your full name. “And I think you should know your family thinks we’re engaged. Never been engaged before, so this is all very sudden for me.” You huff a laugh and roll your eyes, “Um, what I really came here to tell you was, I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

“I don’t know what to do,” You continue, a quasi-one sided conversation and therapy session all in one neat package. “I’m just a reporter for the Rolling Stone. And if you were awake, or hell, even if Gareth were here, I wouldn’t be in this mess. Oh, god not that I’m blaming you.” Your hand finds his arm briefly before you jerk back as if stung, “Shit, sorry.”

“This is not how I pictured my life going, to be honest with you. I thought when I did get engaged, I’d at least have the luxury of knowing my fiancé, or y’know them being conscious at least.” You sigh and take another sip of shitty coffee, “Don’t get me wrong, I love my life— I’ve got a great job and apartment, I get to travel and write for a living. It’s definitely not a bad gig.”

“It’s just, I never met anyone I could truly be myself with, y’know? Laugh with, and I mean ugly laugh with a snort and witch cackle. D’ya ever believe in love at first sight? No, probably not, you’re too rock and roll for that. Or have you even seen someone, and you knew that if only that person really knew you, they would…”

Thinking back to your Corroded Coffin research and tabloid perusals, you sigh. “Of course, they would dump the perfect model that they were with and realize that you were the one they wanted to grow old with.” You shake your head, realizing how ridiculous you sound, talking to a man in a coma who probably can’t even hear you. Your voice falls to a hush, “You ever fall in love with someone you’ve never even talked to? Have you ever been so alone you spend the day confusing a man in a coma?”

“No? Me neither.”

There’s the sound of shuffling of feet echoing from the hallway, followed by a relived: “Oh, there he is.”

A voice startles you from the doorway, deep and masculine, albeit out of breath. A tall, broad man steps into the room quickly followed by a shorter woman and a lankier man. The first addresses you, “You must be the fiancée, I’m Jim Hopper.” He holds out his hand in greeting.

You shake his hand, palm engulfed in his larger one.

“This is my wife, Joyce, and that there is Eddie’s uncle Wayne.”

“He’s so pale,” She laments, crossing the room to his bedside. “Oh, my god.”

You nod to each of them, dropping your hand from Hopper’s. He studies you and you feel like squirming under his gaze, he’s still in uniform but sets his hat on a nearby chair. Great, just what you needed, a police chief to sniff you out.

Grabbing your things, you ready yourself to leave. “There’s been a misunderstanding. I should—”

“Nonsense,” Joyce says from opposite of you, she brushes a few strands of hair away from Eddie’s face. “The kids’ll be here soon and they’ll want to meet you.”

Wayne claps a hand to your shoulder, warmly giving it a squeeze.

“The doctor said you found him and gave him CPR until the paramedics arrived?”

“Oh, um, yeah.”

“They say the only reason he was breathing when they brought him in was because of you.” His voice is hoarse, he coughs into his fist and clears his throat. “Thank you, for that.”

“It’s what anyone would’ve done.”

He squeezes your shoulder once more, “Not necessarily,” and moves off to sit in one of the chairs.

“The doctor should be back soon,” You say, sitting beside Wayne. “He said the vital signs and brainwaves were looking good.”

Joyce nods and shoots you a smile, making idle chit-chat while the rest of you wait for the kids to arrive. There was some concern over Wayne and his heart condition, doesn’t take to shocking news too well, as you understand it. But who are these kids, Eddie’s kids? You didn’t recall coming across any mention of a previous wife or children in your research, but there are stranger things for rockstars to get up to than having a secret family you suppose.

It’s only when Wayne nudges you with his foot that you realize Joyce has been calling your name, “Where are you staying?”

“Oh, a hotel for the night.” You say softly, “I have to get back to New York soon.”

“Well, I won’t hear of it.” Joyce says looking to Hopper, “She’ll stay with us, won’t she Jim?”

He looks back at his wife and seeing her steely resolve, he knows better than to argue with her. “Sure, you’ll spend the holiday with us.”

Damn.

“Oh, we should see if we need to wait for Steve,” Joyce notes, just as a gaggle of people walk in. “Hi kids!” She stands quickly to greet them, their names coming too fast for you to keep up. A man and woman about your age bring up the rear, Joyce hugging them in turn.

Quietly, you step out to collect yourself. After taking a few breaths, you spot the medical assistant from earlier and flag him down for the emergency contact information. He scribbles a name and several phone numbers on a scrap of paper, “I would try this one first,” He points to the middle number, “It’s the work line, I think.”

“Great, thank you!”

Entering the room again, Wayne introduces you as Eddie’s fiancee and rescuer, to whoops and hollers. The younger woman lets out a wolf-whistle and drops you a wink, causing the heat to skitter underneath your skin. Making toward the phone, you dial the number and read the name on the paper.

Steve Harrington.

“Thank you for calling Family Video, this is Steve. How may I help you?”

The rich baritone of his voice, strong and deep, brings a quiver to your knees. Stumbling your way through an introduction, you make disastrous small-talk and wave Joyce over. She takes the phone with a smile, pushing you lightly toward the assembled group where the young woman, Robin, takes you under her wing.

“Fiancée, huh?” She asks with a quirked brow, to your noncommittal shrug. “Hmm.” Her eyes sweep toward Eddie, “I think you can do better,” She jokes with a wink.

Wayne drives you from the hospital to the house, graciously stopping by a grocery store along the way because you didn’t want to show up empty-handed. You make quick work of the deserted aisles, grabbing the necessary ingredients for pumpkin and pecan pie. He helps you to load the bags in the back of the truck and softly croons along to Woody Guthrie as he drives along the icy streets.

A comfortable silence sits between you. Wayne Munson is a man of few words, which is fine by you. The less opportunity for talking yourself into a hole, the better. He comes to a stop in front of a two-storey house festooned with Christmas lights. He carries your bags from the truck into the house, promising Joyce that he’ll be back tomorrow for Thanksgiving. Joyce rolls her eyes fondly and turns back toward the kitchen, leaving the pair of you in the entryway.

You rock back on your heels uncomfortably. Before you can make your escape, Wayne’s hand falls to your shoulder again kneading gently. You glance up to find his watery eyes and quiet smile; he pulls you in for a brief hug. “Thank you sweetheart,” He sighs, followed by a sniff, “I don’t know where he’d be without you, or where we’d be for that matter.” Giving you a final squeeze, he releases you and calls out a goodbye to Hopper and Joyce, shutting the front door behind him.

“Hey kid,” Hopper says, leaning against the bannister. “Join me outside for a minute?” He shrugs into his coat and nods toward the front porch. “Lemme grab my smokes, I’ll meet you out there.”

Well, shit.

It takes everything in you to not give in and pace along the icy boards of the porch as you wait. He’s figured you out, you know he has, and now he’s going to kick you out and you’ll have to call a cab and get back to the hotel before booking it to the airport first thing tomorrow.

“I know you and Munson aren’t involved, kid.” Hopper shuts the front door with a soft click, “Heard you back at the hospital talking to him.”

Your blood goes cold and you know there’s no way you can spin yourself out of this one. “I know, I know and I’m so sorry. It just all happened so fast and Wayne has that heart thing—” Your voice is choked and tight as you try to explain.

“Hey, slow down, take a breath. This isn’t the end of the world.”

“I’ll tell them, I just—”

He shakes his head and lets out a sigh, “Let me level with you,” He brushes off the snow and ice from the top step and invites you to sit down beside him. “God knows what that boy did to earn your attention, cause I certainly can’t make heads or tails of it.” He lights up a cigarette and offers one to you, “No? Can’t say I blame you, it’s a bad habit.” He takes a long drag in thought, leaving you to stew in your guilt. “What I’m trying to say is this: whatever you did, it brought him back. Eddie’s here and breathing because of you, so, in a way, we have him back because of you.”

You stay silent, knowing that whatever Hopper just shared with you is important. The guilt doesn’t leave you, not entirely, but this gruff lawman confiding in you does lodge something loose from the knot in your chest. And when he throws his arm over your shoulders to draw you to his side, you can’t help the watery smile that makes its way across your face.

He smells like your dad, the same blend of tobacco, leather, and spice. It’s been far too long since you’ve indulged in the memory of him, so you allow yourself the weakness, just this once.

And you let Hopper lead you back inside his loud and warmly lit home where Joyce greets you with a plate for dinner and promises to help you bake the pies for tomorrow.

Steve is dead on his feet when he arrives at Hop and Joyce’s house. He’d swung by the hospital to check on Eddie and talked with the doctor and nurses. It was all pretty standard— let him dry out and then assess for further damage. His vitals were good and there didn’t appear to be a need for concern at this point. The doctor, of course, recommended a stay in rehab after being discharged from the hospital, which was already suggested by Corroded’s management team.

“You fucking idiot.”

That’s the first thing Steve says to Eddie, quickly followed by:

“When you wake up, I’m gonna kill you myself.”

He doesn’t linger, knowing he’ll be back tomorrow, and the next day until Eddie wakes up. But it’s gone midnight by the time he turns the key at Hop’s place, kicking his boots at the door to rid them of the snow and ice, before toeing them off at the door. They thunk across the hardwood as he carelessly kicks them off, shrugging out of his coat and hanging it on the hooks by the door.

“Sshh, dingus, you’re gonna wake her up!” Robin hisses as her socked feet light down the stairs.

Steve smiles, relieved to see her, before asking, “Wake up who?”

Robin rolls her eyes and gestures to your sleeping form on the sofa. Steve studies you from a few steps up, one hand resting on the wooden bannister while the other pauses mid-air as he unravels his scarf. “Eddie’s fiancée, of course.”

“So, that’s her?”

You’ve turned your back to them, and you’ve curled in ever so slightly on the sofa. One of Joyce’s many blankets covers you, but your socked feet stick out from underneath one corner— dancing penguins.

At least, that’s what Steve thinks are on your socks. But, he may need to get his eyes checked again.

“What, you haven’t met her?” Robin takes in Steve’s shocked expression, before it softens into something akin to how he goes all moon-eyed at the babes who frequented Scoops Ahoy or Family Video when they were teens as his eyes fall to you once more. “She’s great, you’ll love her. Now c’mon, let’s get you some food.”

“Cereal?”

She snorts at that, “Not my cereal. You took the toy surprise last time!”

Safely ensconced in the kitchen, Robin and Steve catch up in between bites of sugary cereal. She regales him with how valiantly Jonathan tried to get you to take his room upstairs for your stay and how stubbornly you’d refused, insisting you’d be fine on the couch.

“I was right,” Robin says, some milk dribbling from her mouth as she chews. “Total knock-out and smart. Dunno how Munson managed it.”

“Oh y’know, the Munson charm probably.”

She hums in thought, setting her empty bowl in the sink. “Why d’you think he didn’t tell us?”

“Maybe he wanted it to be a surprise?”

“Fuck, what if he knocked her up?!”

Steve’s eyes blow wide at that thought. “Uh,” He says, astutely, “I don’t think that’s the case.”

“Yeah,” Robin hops down from her perch on the counter. “But how do we know?”

“You could ask her.”

She punches him in the arm, “You don’t just ask women if they’re pregnant Steve, geeze.”

He shrugs and slurps the sugary milk from the bowl before setting it alongside Robin’s. He licks his lips and crosses his arms in thought. Steve hadn’t considered the rather obvious conclusion that his rockstar best friend had inadvertently knocked someone up. Considering the groupies and types that flocked to Eddie, it was a long time coming.

If that’s what the case may be.

As it stands, it’s nearly two in the morning and Steve is exhausted. Thankfully, Family Video is closed for the holiday tomorrow, but he knows that in a few hours everyone is going to tramping around the house and generally being a nuisance. And he really doesn’t wanna drive clear across town to his place.

Steve pauses on the stairs, watching the steady rise and fall of your chest. Robin clears the landing and calls to him from the guest room, “C’mon dingus, I haven’t got all night.”

With a shake of his head, he climbs the stairs mindful not to linger too long on the creaky boards. He settles in sharing a bed with Robin, her icicle feet darting under his calves as he fusses with the blankets. His head hits the pillow, and he’s out like a light.

All you can think as you blearily blink yourself awake, is how everything is so loud. Even when they try to be quiet, scampering across the hall past the living room where you clung to the last vestiges of sleep - it was loud. Strained whispers about breakfast and hospital visits, the opening and closing of doors, Hopper hissing at the kids to “Keep your mouths shut,” and to “Stop chasing each other across the house!”

A man, whom you can only assume is Steve, stumbles down the stairs, sweats swung low on his hips sporting a threadbare t-shirt and rubbing the sleep from his eyes. You’ve never seen a human being with bedhead like that - strands sticking up every which way and the sheer volume it had, my god. Hand falling from his eye, his glasses slot back into place, a pair of simple round frames decked in silver. He stops short at the landing, one hand grasping the wood of the bannister, watching as you set the phone back in its cradle.

“Leaving so soon?”

And that voice - all husky and low from sleep, with a slight rasp to it. It’s amazing you’re not reduced to a puddle on the floor at this point. He stretches slowly, like an animal would, a hushed groan falling from his lips. You swallow the lump in your throat and drag your eyes from the sliver of skin exposed at his hip.

“No, just talking to Wayne.” You offer meekly, voice rusty from disuse, “He’s on his way over for an early morning hospital run.”

“Mmm,” Steve nods, “That’s not a bad idea.” He turns the corner from the stairs and stands beside you in the entryway. “I don’t think we’ve officially met,” He says, offering his hand to shake. “I’m Steve.”

“Nice to meet you.” You shake hands and introduce yourself. His hand is large and warm, the contact of your skin against his sending a shiver down your spine.

“That’s a pretty name,” He smiles at you, beginning to wake up a bit more. “So, you’re the fiancée.”

“Yup.”

“Huh.” He looks you up and down, clucks his tongue and departs, making his way toward the kitchen.

Once there, all hell breaks loose. Joyce and Hop are manning the stove and counter, flipping pancakes and shovelling eggs onto plates and all but throwing them at the kids. Wedged into the breakfast nook are Dustin, Lucas, and Mike while El, Max, Robin, and Jonathan commandeer the table in the kitchen.

“Mornin’ family.” Steve greets, bee-lining for the coffeemaker. Blessedly, there’s a fresh pot brewing in the percolator while he scavenges for a mug.

Mumbled versions of “Morning Steve,” sound out from the peanut gallery between bites of food and sips of coffee or orange juice. Joyce sets a plate in front of him on the counter and ruffles his hair, “Morning kiddo.”

Hop sighs from the stove, turning the dial of the burner to ‘Off’ before intoning, “The kitchen is officially closed, you gremlins.”

Steve chuckles as he removes the coffeepot and gives a generous pour into the ‘World’s Best Dad’ mug El made many moons ago. He’s not sure of your preferred cream-to-sugar ratio, so he decides to go without and trots out of the kitchen.

He sees the front door close at the end of the hall and quickens his step not wanting to miss you. Spying a pair of slides from god knows who, he slips them on and pulls the door open. Wayne’s old pickup is idling in the driveway as you step into the cab, feet unsteady and the newly formed ice of the drive. Wayne nods to Steve in greeting as he walks toward the house, while Steve waves in return.

“Careful,” He says as a hand comes to rest at your back.

Tossing a ‘thanks’ over your shoulder, you settle into the seat with a click of the seatbelt. “Did you need something?” You ask, breath forming puffs of vapor in the morning light.

“Well, uh,” Steve begins, ducking his head and gesturing to the mug in his hand. “The coffee’s not too great over there at the hospital.” He hands you the mug through the open door.

“Oh, thank you.”

He leans against the car, face level with yours. One fist at the roof of the cab while his opposite arm braces against the open door. A lock of hair falls into his face, and he’s so attractive that it’s stupid. “So, uh, y-you’re comin’ back, right? You’ll come back?”

You glance to him, unsure of why he’s so concerned with your whereabouts. “Yeah, we’re just checking in. We’ll be back soon.”

Steve nods at your confirmation, pushing off of the truck to stand at his full height. His hands slide to his hips, fingers just beneath the band of the sweatpants as he slowly arches his back, hips bobbing toward you. And you don’t know whether to maintain eye contact with him or focus on the looming proximity of his crotch.

“Oh boy,” He exhales, looking off into the distance. “What a day.”

Your eyes dart away when he looks to you once more, uncomfortable under his scrutiny. “Well, thank you.” You hold the mug up and take a tentative sip, “Good goddamn,” You whisper in disbelief.

“It’s good, right?” You nod and take another sip as he smiles, “I had a dream about you last night.” He tugs at the band of his sweats while your eyes cut to his.

“What?”

“Yeah,” He leans against the truck again, face closer to yours and arms resting against the roof of the cab. “I ended up havin’ a dream about you.”

“W-what was I doing?” You stammer out, as the sound of crushed snow and ice underfoot signals Wayne’s return.

“Well–” Steve starts to say before he’s cut off by Wayne’s, “Y’ready, sweetheart?”

You nod and clear your throat uncomfortably.

“You comin’?” Wayne asks Steve before he closes the passenger door.

“Later.” He turns to leave as Wayne settles into the driver’s seat but before you can pull out of the driveway, “Oh, y’know, you gotta make sure to bring back the mug because it’s Hop’s favorite.”

You stare back at him blankly.

“Or he’ll kill ya.”

“Okay,” You breathe watching as he makes his way back to the house, Adidas slides flopping through the snow.

Returning from the hospital an hour or so later, with plans to bring a few plates over for Eddie’s attending doctor and nurses, you nearly breeze past Steve sitting on the staircase with a mug of coffee and paper in hand.

“Hey,” You greet, toeing off your boots and shrugging out of your coat. “Wayne’s coming back for later, just had to grab some things from his place.”

He’s changed out of his sweats and done something to tame his hair. You can hear Joyce frantically corralling the kids in the kitchen, something about Mass and how she refuses to be late again. Steve shakes his head and drinks his coffee, ready and waiting to cart Robin, Dustin, and Max over to Our Lady of Perpetual Mercy for the Thanksgiving Mass.

But it would seem that no one warned you about Mass last night, which would explain the deer in headlights look you’re sporting now. Steve stands from his perch on the stairs, turning to yell at Robin, “Our Lady may have perpetual mercy, but I don’t and you’re really pushing it today Rob!”

When he turns back, you’re no longer in the entryway. The kitchen door swings as if someone just passed through, and he can hear your voice over the chatter from the kids. Joyce is rattling off instructions and times for food to be cooked and you’re diligently taking notes on the whiteboard attached to the fridge. Your handwriting is neat, and a bit slanted, giving it an effortless look. Capping the marker, you let it swing from the string on the fridge.

“Think that about does it,” You assure Joyce, gesturing to the lone velcro roller in her hair. “I’ll have everything ready by the time you get back.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to come with?” She asks, unraveling the roller and setting it on the windowsill above the sink. “I’m sure Robin has something you could borrow.”

Steve catches your eye roll and snorts into his mug. Your eyes cut to him, silently admonishing his outburst. He shakes his head and sets the mug on the counter, seeing Hop’s mug he loaned you earlier already on the drying rack.

“I don’t want to be a bother,” You kindly brush her off, “Besides, you’ll want to get going soon and I would just hold you up.”

“And the hotel is dropping off your luggage later?”

You nod, tying on an apron and moving to wash your hands. “Yeah, I spoke with the concierge this morning.”

“I wish you’d just sleep in Jonathan’s old room,” Joyce tuts, “He can go on the couch, he’s used to it.”

“Mom, I already offered—”

You laugh and raise your hand, “It’s fine Joyce, I’m already an imposition as it is. The last thing I’d want to do is put him out.”

Steve watches as you blend in with the family, how easily you soothe Joyce and her worries, banter with the kids, and crack jokes with Hop. It’s easy to see why Eddie could fall for someone like you. He just wishes he could find someone like that— easy going and kind, someone who fits in like a missing puzzle piece.

But maybe it’s too perfect.

Now there’s some food for thought.

A loud honk from Hop’s Bronco jars him from his musings. Steve claps his hands together, rallying the troops, “Okay, who’s with me?” Dustin, Lucas, and Max jump up from the table and gather their coats, scurrying out to the beemer. Robin takes the stairs two at a time, struggling to shrug into her coat. “Look alive, sunshine!”

Goodbyes ring out as you follow them to the porch, watching as they clamber into their cars. You wave as they pull out of the drive, Joyce rolling down the window for a final reminder about the dinner rolls. With good humor, you nod and give her a thumbs up as the Bronco drives onto the street.

The church parking lot is packed by the time they arrive. Steve drops off Robin and the kids before peeling out to find a parking spot, while Hop leaves the Bronco in the drop-off lane in front. Mass has already begun when Steve enters the chapel, quickly he slips in alongside Hop and Joyce at the family pew.

“We pray that the Lord’s healing presence will be felt by those who are sick and by their families. Especially Robert Newby, Barbara Holland, and Edward Munson. We pray to the Lord,” The priest intones from the lectern.

“Lord hear our prayer.”

Steve stands in between Hopper and Robin, waiting for the priest to move it along.

“O, God, you call us to live as one family. Save us from…”

Finally, they sit. Half-paying attention to the priest, Steve turns to Hop and asks, “So, who’s this fiancée?”

“She’s Eddie’s girl, she’s family now.”

“You’d think if Eddie were getting married, he would have announced it in the Times.”

Hop turns to him, “We read the Indianapolis Star.”

And the congregants say, “Amen.”

“If she’s family, why isn’t she at Mass with us?”

Hop snorts, “That’s rich, comin’ from you, kid.”

“I like Mass better in Latin,” Wayne pipes up from his seat next to Joyce, “It’s nicer when you don’t know what they’re sayin’.”

“D’ya think about what I said the other night?”

“Nope.”

“Steve, come on.” Hop stands with the rest of the congregation, “You’ve got the instinct for it, and gettin’ through the Academy is a breeze.”

“I told you,” Steve says following suit, “I don’t wanna be a cop for chrissakes.”

“Stop swearing,” Joyce hisses, “We’re in Mass.”

“But there is something I’d like to talk to you about.”

“Well, you can talk about it later,” Joyce reminds them.

“Talk about it now,” Robin says leaning toward Steve conspiratorially, “He can’t kill you in church.”

“Will you please pipe down?” An exasperated parishioner asks from the pew behind them.

Hop scoffs and slowly turns around, “Hey, be nice, pal. We’re in church.”

“You’re disrupting the Mass!” He hisses back.

“Yeah? And who made you the Pope?”

“Jim!” Joyce hisses, nudging with an elbow.

“Now how did Argyle get to be a lector?” Wayne asks, “He took over Ed’s gig with Reefer Rick after he moved to LA with the band.”

Steve and Hopper snort, Robin tries and fails to repress her laughter. Down past Wayne, Dustin and Mike are a few seconds from a slap fight while Max and El whisper in between fits of giggles. Joyce sighs deeply.

And the congregation says, “Amen.”

Cooking Thanksgiving lunch goes off without a hitch. Everything was ready, as you promised, by the time they’d returned from Mass and you’d caught the tail end of Joyce’s scolding: “We will try to behave as a civilized family might—”

The kitchen door swung open to reveal Hopper and Joyce both stopping short at the sight of you washing dishes.

“H-how did you—” Joyce’s mouth opens and closes, struck dumb at the sight of gleaming dishes in the drying rack and the dishwasher already running.

“Oh, hi,” You toss over your shoulder, “The dining room table is set, I was just cleaning up in here.”

Steve and Robin file in soon after, bickering about something or other. They’re talking fast and cutting each other off, but it doesn’t deter their conversation.

“Why do you keep singling me out?” Steve balks, throwing his coat on the back of a nearby chair.

“Well, if you hadn’t been pestering Hop throughout Mass we might’ve—”

“And I can’t even defend myself?”

“Forget it,” Hop cuts in with a warning tone, “And I know you gave her my mug, Harrington.”

“Oh, did you need it?” Your hand flies to the cabinet above the coffeemaker, a fresh pot already brewed. “It’s all washed and ready to go.”

Dustin enters shortly after, “Let’s just vote Steve off the island,” and thumps him on the chest in passing.

“Yeah,” Hop agrees.

Steve sighs and runs a hand through his hair, “Well, I’m ashamed of all of you.”

“Oh, there’s some news,” Max mutters sarcastically, leaning against the fridge.

Steve’s eyes fall to Lucas, “Even you Sinclair.”

Lucas throws up his hands in exasperation, “I didn’t even do anything!”

“Okay, enough.” Joyce says cutting through the nonsense. “It’s Thanksgiving, we’re going to eat lunch without any of this bickering. And then, with any luck, you lot will pass out watching the game and I can finally get some goddamn peace.”

Everyone has the decency to look mildly embarrassed, that is until:

“No swearing.”

Steve punches Robin in the arm, “Can it.”

The room descends into guffaws and fits of laughter shortly thereafter. Joyce eventually herds everyone into the dining room, Robin pours the drinks while Hop carves the turkey. Everyone helps themselves to the various sides— dinner rolls, green bean casserole, mashed potatoes, gravy, cranberry sauce, stuffing, and roasted veggies. Wayne arrives with cornbread fresh from the oven and some vanilla ice cream to go with the pies for dessert.

The candles are lit casting a warm glow around the room, illuminating smiling faces. And it’s nice. Nice to belong, if only temporarily, to a big family that loves hard. Growing up, it had been only you and your dad. And after his death, that left only you. You had missed it, all of it— the inside jokes, sibling taunts, half-assed scolding followed by a cheeky wink, and that effortless touch.

It was second nature, how freely they expressed their affection for one another. Steve roping Dustin into a half-nelson for a noogie, Jonathan and Will kicking eachother under the table, El and Max communicating in half-formed sentences and wild gesticulations, Joyce, Hop, and Wayne sharing long-suffering sighs.

“Hey,” Robin says, nudging you with her elbow after refilling your wine glass. “I’m thankful for you.” Her voice is soft, like she’s sharing a secret. Cheeks tinged with a flush from the wine, she smiles at you and raises her glass. “I’d like to propose a toast,” She announced to the group, “To our newest addition and guardian angel, cheers!”

The sentiment is echoed across the table, calls of your name and ‘here, here.’ And it’s so kind that your heart could burst. You sip your wine and swallow around the lump in your throat. Going back to your meal, you can’t help but feel like you’re being watched, observed. Glancing up, you catch Steve looking at you from across the table.

The flicker of golden light against his face does little to ease the knot in your chest. His hair is slightly disheveled, a lock falling across his face wrought loose from his fingers combing through it. His eyes appear more green than hazel in the light, studying you from behind wire frames. Your pulse kicks up under his scrutiny, and he looks at you as if you’ll unravel right then and there.

Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe it was the years of tropical vacations instead of celebrating holidays with friends and family that made you forget that, actually, families are complicated and any recollection of pleasant holiday celebrations spent with your dad were a figment of your own nostalgia-tinted imagination and the promise of skiing the next day.

For a moment, shame creeps upon you like a thief in the night. You tear yourself from Steve's gaze, not noticing the concerned furrow of his brows as you hastily stand and offer to clear some plates from the table. Sweeping out of the room and nudging the kitchen door open with your hip. He absentmindedly swirls the remaining wine in his glass and blows out a puff of air.

Ever the detective, it takes Hopper all of two seconds to ascertain that Steve did something to hasten your departure from the table. Seeing as the punk is pointedly not looking his way, Hopper lobs a dinner role at Steve, grazing his cheek only to land on his plate sending the cutlery clattering. He jerks upright, setting the glass on the table, “What the–”

“That’s enough,” Hop warns with cool detachment and a knowing look in his eye. He nods toward the kitchen, “Now, go make nice.”

Everything is still mostly out of your control in the kitchen, precisely because you don’t know where anything should go and having a knot in your chest as hard as a rock does little to help matters. But Steve silently rescues you by beginning to unload the dishwasher and Robin starts a thirty minute tale of increasing ridiculousness and by the time the attention turns back to you, you are slightly less hysteric and better able to answer El’s kind questions.

You swallow a twist of guilt and a bigger twist of gratitude. You feel some anxiety brimming in your stomach and nod, giving El a strained smile.

Something knocks against your shoulder. The warm scent of cedar and musk invading your senses— Steve.

“Your shoulders are up near your ears,” he observes.

You sigh at that, trying to roll out the tension, but not quite managing to. Par for the course, with your indeterminate stay in Hawkins looming in the air and stretching far across the foreseeable future.

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington angst #fic: tbsg #Spotify

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lovelybucky1 · 2 years

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Kinktober Day 11- Threesome

warnings: female reader, threesome, m!receiving oral sex, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, vaginal fingering, dirty talk, praise, 18+ minors dni

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You were afraid to suggest it in the first place. You know how Rooster can get; he’s very possessive and he doesn’t like when people touch his things, especially people like Hangman.

Jake is everything that Rooster despises, all wrapped up in a tanned, blonde package. As your luck would have it, you happen to find your boyfriend’s sworn enemy extremely hot.

You thought bringing it up would be a dealbreaker, that Rooster would look at you like you have three heads and walk right out the door. You were shocked when he came to you first about it.

“What do you think about Seresin?”

“I mean… he’s alright.”

“Yeah. Do you think he’s… attractive?”

“What?”

“Do you think he’s attractive?”

“Is this a trick question?”

It was out of nowhere; unprompted, blurted out in the silence of your living room.

“No, it’s not a trick, I swear. Just… earlier today he bet that he could beat me at darts with his eyes closed,” he trails off.

“Okay?”

“And I may have bet something on the game.”

You sit up from where you were laying on the couch to look at him from his spot in the arm chair.

“What did you bet?”

“Um…”

“Bradley.”

“I may have bet a night with you.”

Your mouth falls open and your eyebrows shoot to your hairline in surprise. Your boyfriend made a bet with his least favorite person in the world, and made you the prize.

“Please don’t be mad,” he frowns at your silence. “I swear, I can call it off and give him like fifty bucks instead, you don’t have to do it.”

You sit there for a moment, considering your options. You have always found Jake attractive, even before you got with Rooster. And if Rooster is giving you permission like this…

“Well, I’d hate to see you lose that money.”

“The money doesn’t matter, honey, you don’t have to do this.”

“It’s okay, really. I’ll do it.”

Rooster sent a brief text to Jake, and within the hour, you got a knock on your door. Rooster answers it while you’re finishing getting ready in the bathroom. You can hear the deep rumble of their voices through the wall, but you can’t make out anything.

You finally emerge from the bathroom, wearing one of Rooster’s old tees and a pair of lace panties that are hidden by the hem of the shirt. Both men’s eyes scan you, looking you over hungrily.

“Hey there, honey,” Jake grins.

“Hi, Jake,” you smile.

“So,” Jake turns to Rooster with a cocky smile. “If you wanna stay out here… I can’t promise to not be loud.”

Rooster’s eyebrows furrow. “What are you talking about? I’m not staying out here.”

“Are you gonna go out, or…?”

Bradley scoffs at Jake. “No way I’m leaving you alone with her.”

“Why the hell not? That was the deal.”

“The bet was for a night with her, there were no specifications.”

You look between the two men like you’re watching a tennis match, and it makes you a little dizzy.

“Why can’t I have you both?”

They pause and turn to you, both wearing confused expressions. “Like a threesome?” Bradley asks.

“Yeah,” you shrug.

Jake lights up, a shit-eating grin splitting his face. Bradley looks more skeptical, but a deal is a deal, after all.

You scamper off to the bedroom, and Jake can’t rip his eyes away from your ass as you walk down the hallway. Bradley punches him in the shoulder, but doesn’t say anything in response to Jake’s laugh.

When they enter the bedroom, they find you already sitting in the center of the bed while you wait for them. Jake sits next to you, while Bradley stands in front of you, arms crossed.

“How is this going to work?” Bradley asks, making Jake chuckle.

“You’ve never seen porn, Bradshaw?”

Bradley shoots Jake a glare. “I wasn’t asking you.”

“Well…” you interject. “maybe one in the front and one in the back?”

You feel embarrassed about asking like this, but the heated looks you’re getting from both men lead you to believe they’re not judging you.

“I want her pussy,” Jake says, voice gravely.

“No fucking way,” Bradley huffs. “I should get to pick.”

“I won the bet, asshole.”

“I want Jake to fuck me,” you say, successfully stopping their arguing. Bradley looks a little betrayed, but the reassurance that you’ll suck his dick seems to comfort him.

You move onto your hands and knees, your ass facing the foot of the bed. Jake stands behind you, groping your ass and swearing under his breath.

“You’re so fuckin’ sexy, sweetheart. I’ve had my eye on this ass since I met you,” Jake mumbles as he digs his fingers into your soft flesh.

For as jealous and reluctant Rooster played, the blown wide look in his eyes as he looks down at you from where he kneels in front of you tells you everything. He wants this just as much as you.

You feel Jake’s fingertips slip under the waistband of your panties. “Can I?”

You can’t respond verbally, your mouth busy with the tip of Rooster’s thumb, but you nod. That’s enough permission for Jake, because he’s immediately yanking your panties down to your knees. He groans at the sight of your glistening lips, wet just for him.

“Your cunt’s gorgeous,” Jake swears. You see Bradley look up at Jake, a knowing look on his face.

“Warm her up with your fingers. Her pussy’s real greedy,” Rooster smirks.

Jake does as Bradley instructed; pushes in one finger, followed soon after by a second. He fingers you, stretching you open to prepare you for his cock, while Bradley undoes his fly.

Before long, you’re being fed cock from both ends by the men of your dreams. Your jaw aches as Bradley slots himself down your throat, and your stomach burns with the heat of Jake’s cock stretching you open.

“Fuck, gorgeous, I love feeling your mouth on me,” Rooster groans as he strokes your jaw tenderly, always the gentleman.

“You’re squeezin’ the life outta my cock,” Jake chuckles. “You’re obviously not fuckin’ her good enough, Rooster. She’s as tight as a goddamn virgin.”

Rooster smirks down at you, an expression that you attempt to return with your mouth full.

Jake starts to thrust into you, fast and shallow, unlike Rooster’s slow, deep thrusts that you’re used to. If your mouth wasn’t busy, you’d be filling the air with moans and curses.

You suppose you were a little distracted by the slide of Jake’s thick cock into you that you payed your boyfriend less attention, because he’s tapping your jaw to get your attention.

“Can I fuck your mouth, sweetheart?” he asks gently, eyes full of adoration even as you’re getting fucked by someone else.

You nod as best you can, and relax your throat to make it easier to take him.

Now, you’re on your hands and knees, letting your boyfriend and his workplace rival use your holes. It’s dirty, depraved, and it makes your head spin. Their hands are everywhere, all over your body and in your hair; it’s almost overwhelming.

“Where do you want me to cum,” Jake grunts out.”

Before you can even think of a response, Rooster answers for you. “Inside.”

You love your boyfriend, and with the way Jake moans, you think he might too.

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piratekane · 1 year

Text

and now, the continuation of Hell's Kitchen forever roommates

“What if they don’t like me?”

Beatrice frowns and pauses for a moment on the sidewalk. Ava goes two steps past her before she stops and looks back, her own frown on her face.

Ava fills her confused silence. “Oh, god. They’re not going to like me.”

Beatrice sees a large group of students walking towards them and grabs for Ava instinctively, pulling her out of their orbit. It puts them on the road and into a small snowbank, but Beatrice can worry about the snow seeping in through the mesh of her sneakers another time, when Ava’s forehead isn’t pinched together in worry.

“Why wouldn’t they like you?”

She’s curious, because she’s not sure she’s met anyone who doesn’t like Ava. Granted, she’s known Ava for 3 weeks tomorrow - she’s hardly counting the days, she just had a substantial paper due that day and she had been treating herself to a macchiato with a double shot, just because, when Ava crash landed at her table - but in that time, she’s seen Ava meet at least two dozen people and every single one of them walked away with a smile on their face.

But the confident Ava she’s known over the last 3 weeks is not the girl in front of her, nervously bouncing onto the tips of her toes with an almost frenetic energy that Beatrice could reach out and wrap her hand around. She wonders what would happen if she did, if she reached out and put a hand on Ava’s shoulder. Her hands, now pushed deep into her pockets, flex at the idea.

They’re just… not those kinds of friends. Beatrice is not that kind of friend with anyone, really. Maybe Lilith, in their own way, after years growing up at the same political parties forcing each other into the other’s orbit. And Camila is tactile, but seems to understand that Beatrice needs her space, and she reserves hugs for extra special occasions, still not quantifiable to Beatrice on any level.

Ava squirms in front of her and Beatrice’s hand clenches into a fist so tightly that she can feel the pinch of her fingernails in the soft skin of her palm. The big clock tower in the center of the quad chimes once, twice, twelve times. Noon exactly.

“Well, for example, I’m making us late.” Ava points into the sky, presumably towards the clock tower. “And I forgot my hat. You know how much better I look in my hat.”

She doesn’t, because she’s never seen Ava in a hat before. But she understands the anxiety of meeting new people. So she smiles calmly and clenches and she takes a step closer to Ava. “We reviewed this, didn’t we?”

Ava’s head bobs up and down, face open. Beatrice likes this, that she can tell Ava is listening to her and taking in what she’s saying. “Yes.” Ava nods again. “We went over everyone already. You…” Ava’s mouth lifts in just one corner. “You were very thorough.”

She swallows a little tightly. “You wanted to be prepared.”

“I did. I do!” Ava sways forwards, hands outstretched as if she’s going to reach out and grab Beatrice, shake her into understanding that she means it. “I’m just… I’m nervous. I don’t meet new people all the time.”

Beatrice can’t stop the snort of surprise. It’s inelegant and loud and a trickle of embarrassment runs cold down her spine. She schools her face and lifts her chin into the air just a little. “Ava, I’ve seen you meet at least 10 new people this week alone.”

Ava opens her mouth and snaps it closed again. “Okay,” she finally says, stilling for a moment. “But those people didn’t matter. These people do.”

Yes, they do. They matter to Beatrice more than nearly anything else in her life. Her friends have become her family over the last few years. They’ve seen her at her worst, celebrated her best moments. Lilith is the one she calls on the days when her parents’ letters find their way into her mailbox. Camila is her self-appointed study buddy, keeping her from setting up camp in the library. Mary and Shannon keep her company on the nights when Beatrice feels like she just needs some quiet but doesn’t want to be alone.

She wasn’t aware she had made Ava feel the same way.

“They’re going to like you.” She says confidently, like she already knows.

It’s been 3 weeks and she already knows she likes Ava. Enough to share her favorite table in the student center. Enough to let her strict study time slip away without noticing. Enough to take Ava’s quiet admission of not knowing a lot of people and immediately telling this strange girl who appeared seemingly out of nowhere that she could meet her friends, if she wanted to.

Ava exhales loudly. “You’ll still like me, even if they don’t, right?” That nervous energy is back. Beatrice gets as far as letting her hand drop from her pocket, but it stays firmly against her side. “It won’t change your mind?”

She can’t possibly know that. Her friends are good judges of character. They immediately saw that Lucia was going to be a problem, even though Beatrice hadn’t thought so. And they were right. If something was wrong with Ava, they’d tell her.

The problem is that, even if they did find something wrong with her, she’s not sure she’d want to know.

So she says, “I’ll still like you,” with her full chest and it seems to soothe some of Ava’s nerves. She settles a little, body coming to a resting state and her shoulders rolling back. She smiles and it seems strong, steady. The crowd passes them on the sidewalk and Beatrice steps back onto it, waiting for Ava to slide in alongside her. Their shoulders bump, their elbows brush.

“I’m going to knock this out of the park,” Ava says, a sudden gust of confidence in her words. “You know that?”

Beatrice doesn’t know, but she believes her. The cold winter air bites at her cheeks and she ducks her head against a slight breeze but Ava turns her face into it, eyes closed slightly and a small smile on her face. Beatrice watches her for a moment. She’s so… free. It’s one of the first things Beatrice noticed about her - how unburdened she seemed to be.

They’re slipping into the student center before she knows it and she soaks in the warmth, unbuttoning her thick winter coat. Ava is back to bouncing again, each step pushing her up into the air a little bit. Beatrice heads towards the small section of tables near the entrance to the science building where she knows her friends are waiting for her.

They’re not those kinds of friends, but Ava reaches out and grabs her arm, squeezing tightly. “This is going to be great.” Beatrice knows she’s saying it more for her own benefit than Beatrice’s so she smiles and nods in agreement, arm burning through the thick wool of her coat where Ava’s hand is wrapped around it.

Ava doesn’t let go and walks at an odd angle, half-dragging Beatrice beside her.

Mary spots them first. Beatrice prides herself on knowing her friends and she can tell Mary is surprised. At Ava or the fact that she’s pulling Beatrice behind her like the wake of a speedboat, she’s not sure. But Beatrice gives nothing away, not challenging the look on Mary’s face as it goes from surprise to curiosity. Mary smacks Shannon in the shoulder lightly, nodding towards their strange approach. Lilith looks up from her phone, eyes narrowing in on Ava and Beatrice sends up a silent prayer that Lilith’s bark is worse than her bite today. Camila turns, face brightening.

“Beatrice!”

Beatrice smiles fondly and she feels Ava looking at her, mirroring her. Ava drags her the last few feet and comes to a stop just outside of the small circle the others have created.

“Hi!” She grins, eyes moving from person to person. “I’m Ava.”

Camila and Shannon smile. Mary nods again, a silent greeting. Lilith stands, spine perfectly straight, and stares down at Ava. Ava, to her credit and Beatrice’s amusement, just smiles a little wider.

“You’re Lilith,” she guesses.

Lilith’s eyes cut to Beatrice. “What gave that away?”

“Beatrice won’t shut up about your smile.”

Mary snorts, not bothering to cover the sound. Camila hides her smile. Lilith continues to look Ava over with narrowed eyes before her chin tips almost imperceptibly - a silent fine, she can stay. Beatrice feels a rush of relief settle in her stomach that surprises her. She didn’t know she cared so much about Lilith’s opinion.

“I’m Camila.” Camila sticks her hand out and Ava finally lets go of Beatrice’s arm, looking curiously at it before shaking it. “Beatrice won’t stop talking about you.”

“That’s not true,” she says at the same time as Ava turns to her and says, “I knew it.”

Beatrice shakes her head. “You knew nothing. Maybe I’m not saying anything nice.”

Ava pushes her hand into her pocket and rocks to one side, shoulder knocking into Beatrice. “Oh, come on. I’m pretty great. You can admit that. You don’t have to show off for your friends.”

“Yeah, Beatrice,” Mary drawls. “Don’t show off for us.”

“Mary,” Ava says. Her eyes are bright. “Beatrice says a lot about you.”

“Oh, so she’s saying things about us.” Mary crosses her arms over her chest, eyebrow raised in challenge. “What’s she saying?”

“She’s saying-” Ava’s eyes cut to her and then she slams her mouth shut, miming pulling a zipper across her lips. Her shoulder bumps Beatrice’s again as she shakes with a silent, unexplained laugh.

A curious feeling comes over Beatrice. It almost feels like fondness. Which can’t be true, of course. Because she’s known Ava for 3 weeks tomorrow and that’s certainly not enough time to be… enamored by someone. She’s known her barista longer than that and has nothing but passing gratitude for her and the extra shot she sometimes surprises Beatrice with. She’s known her advisor since freshman year and she’s only ever felt appreciation for him.

Fondness is something reserved for her friends, not someone so new like Ava.

“Nothing but nice things,” she finally says.

“Well, we’ve heard nothing but the same about you,” Camila fills in. She loops her arm through Ava’s, pulling her closer to the couch she’d abandoned a moment ago. Ava looks back at Beatrice over her shoulder before sitting down next to Camila. “So, tell me about yourself. Beatrice says you’re a freshman.”

Mary sidles up next to her, her shoulder replacing the feeling of Ava’s. “She seems… excitable. Is she.. Is she wiggling?”

Beatrice looks. Yes, Ava is moving animatedly, hands moving in wild circles as she tells Camila and Shannon something and Lilith looks on with mild disapproval. She smiles. She knew Camila would immediately pull Ava into a conversation where she could… Well, Beatrice can admit to herself that Ava is charming. And that charm seems to extend to everyone, Beatrice included.

“Beatrice nearly caught bedbugs from her freshman year roommate,” Shannon is telling her now. “What was her name again? Crimson?”

Ava’s nose wrinkles. “That’s a name?” She shrugs it off. “My roommate isn’t bad. Chanel is definitely cooler than me. She goes to all the campus parties. But she’s moving out at the end of the semester and I’m going to get stuck with someone new.” She pouts, bottom lip pushed out dramatically. “I don’t want to live there anymore.”

“Beatrice has a spare room opening up. Don’t you, Beatrice?” Camila looks at her over Ava’s head and Beatrice does an admirable job of keeping her face neutral. Ava is still, effectively, a stranger. And Beatrice knows well enough that you don’t invite a stranger to move in with you. Though, she supposes that freshmen do, in fact, move in with strangers. Still. Beatrice won’t do it. Camila is still smiling. “You guys should talk about it.”

Mary must feel the way she’s suddenly pulled rigid. Because that shoulder presses warmly against her and Mary sucks her teeth for a second before she leans forward and exhales. Beatrice braces herself. Mary looks like a father ready to interrogate the boy picking up her daughter for the night. Beatrice’s forehead wrinkles at the thought as it comes on suddenly. What a strange thing to think.

“So, Ava. Any extracurriculars? What do you do on the weekends? Any criminal history we need to know about?”

Ava, to her credit, places her hands on her knees and straightens up higher than Beatrice has seen her so far - 3 weeks tomorrow, she thinks. Not a lifetime - as she thinks of her answers. “No criminal history, yet. Though Chanel has informed me that I’ve committed many crimes against fashion. I don’t think she appreciates my minion pajamas, though. She should. They’re the most comfortable thing besides not wearing pants.” She purses her lips. “As for extracurriculars… none yet. Though, there’s a rock climbing place nearby that the intramural team goes to sometimes! One of the guys in my math class told me about it.”

Camila immediately pouts. “I want to go to the rock climbing place.”

“We should!” Ava looks around, excitement effusing from her. “We could do that. I think they do group discounts.”

“Someone won’t do it with us,” Camila continues, pointedly not looking at her.

Ava looks at each of their faces before her eyes settle on Beatrice. “You don’t want to go rock climbing? Why not?”

Beatrice has a myriad of reasons: the chalk is is supposedly notoriously difficult to get out of clothes, the place seems to be crowded with college students and little kids at birthday parties, the workers there are college students and she wouldn’t trust them to hold open a door let alone keep her suspended above the ground. And most importantly, a thought she keeps to herself: she’s not sure she’ll be good at it.

Then Ava does something Beatrice knows is going to be ruinous. She turns her whole body towards Beatrice, that same open look on her face, head tipped to one side as a slight smile starts to build in the corner of her mouth. “I think you should try it. And I think you should try it with me.”

All of the reasons, carefully crafted into an argument she used with Mary and Camila and Shannon and Lilith, evaporate. They disappear into Ava’s hopeful smile. Every part of her that rebelled against the idea, that kept her refusal steadfast, is gone in the instant that Ava nods encouragingly.

“Okay,” she hears herself say.

Though, it can’t actually be her, Because she said no to this the last three times she was asked about it. But it is her. Camila lets out a small excited cheer, Shannon smiles, Lilith’s face flickers in approval, Mary stares at her openly, and Ava beams.

“Rock climbing!” Ava looks around excitedly. “You guys must not have tried hard to change her mind very hard.” They’re not those kinds of friends but Ava reaches over and grabs Beatrice’s hand, squeezing it tightly. “That was so easy,” she laughs.

Mary is still staring at her. She feels it against the side of her face and she refuses to turn towards her. She lifts her chin into the air slightly, pointedly, and does a good job pretending all of her attention is on Ava asking Camila about the right kind of shoes and whether or not she'll be able to climb without a harness. They’re tight, she’s saying.

Mary bumps into her again and she finally has to look. “That was so easy.” She mimics Ava quietly enough that no one hears them. “Tell me, Beatrice. Did we not try hard enough?” There’s a smirk growing on her face, a telltale sign that Mary knows the answer to her own question.

So Beatrice doesn’t bother offering a different one.

“I like her,” Mary says after another minute of stretched out silence. “I think she’s going to be good for you.”

Beatrice frowns. “Good for me?” She shakes her head. “I don’t think so. I think she’s going to be a terrible influence.”

Mary sneaks a hand to her elbow. “I think maybe you need that every once in a while. Makes you a little more human.” She squeezes Beatrice’s arm, taking the sting out of the words. “Better stop her before Camila ropes her into something though. Because the two of them seem dangerous together.” Mary slips away, back to Shannon’s side.

Beatrice watches Ava, still animated, going on too quickly for Beatrice to tune into and keep up with. Even Lilith looks less disgruntled than usual, a rare flicker of a smile on her face so briefly that Beatrice could have possibly imagined it. She thinks of Ava’s question, so foolishly asked. What if they don’t like me?

Another thought worms its way inside her brain. What if they like her too much?

What if I like her too much?

But Ava looks back at her and smiles and Beatrice just simply tucks that thought away for later. Apparently, she’s going rock climbing.

#warrior nun #avatrice #ava silva #sister beatrice #everyone say thank you kay thank you kay #she's asking Questions and i'm writing 2k responses #forever roommates #it was a snow day today!#and this was the most productive i was #now to bury my head in the sand

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genshingorlsrevengeance · 23 days

Note

Let me ask for a crossover fic Nikke and GFL

Squad counters and Anti-Rain getting into a cat fight over a commander S/O

(GFL/GoV: NIKKE) Anti-Rain and Squad Counters fighting over their Commanders

OH YES, CROSSOVER BANTER, I'VE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS

Also, the Commander won't be S/O since that'd be kinda hard to implement in this kind of scenario. Unless it was a harem, which I absolutely refuse. We have the serious ones, the catty ones, and the glue eaters for this team matchup.

Squad Counters entered the room, noticing the squad from Griffin looking far more serious than them.

M4A1 examined the newcomers and nodded.

(M4A1) "So, you're the T-Dolls joining us for this operation?"

(Anis) "The hell is a T-Doll? We're Nikkes."

(ST AR-15) "Hm. It doesn't really matter in the end. Just don't fall behind."

On the other hand, SOPMOD excitedly jumped in front of her two sisters-in-arms, extending her hands.

(M4 SOPMOD II) "New friends! Let's shake hands!~"

Rapi leaned back in slight surprise, unused to SOPMOD's straightforwardness.

Neon however extended her own hand and shook SOPMOD's excitedly.

(Neon) "Hi, I'm Neon! Do you like big guns?"

(M4 SOPMOD II) "What kind of question is that, of course I do!"

(Rapi) ahem. "Rapi, Leader of Squad Counters. This is Anis and Neon."

Anis simply shrugged while Neon waved a friendly hand towards the team.

M4A1 crossed her arms.

(M4A1) "M4A1, leader of the Anti-Rain Team. ST AR-15, and M4 SOPMOD II."

(Anis) "Wow, you guys just name yourselves after the guns? Talk about lifeless-"

STAR frowned at Anis.

(ST AR-15) "They're code names. And who are you calling lifeless?"

(Anis) "I don't know, you were just calling us Dolls a second ago-"

A loud throat clearing from the center of the room caught both team's attention, everyone directing their sights towards the two humans in the room.

(Griffin Commander) "We're being sent to take care of some Sangvis Dolls that are reportedly running around the area with some unidentified at their side. Which, I presume to be yours."

(Counters Commander) "Yeah, the fact that the Raptures haven't taken over your forces or anyone else's is a miracle, honestly..."

(Rapi) "Commander-"

Both of the humans turned to Rapi, before looking at each other in slight confusion.

(Griffin Commander) "Oh, right."

(Counters Commander) ahem "Yes, Rapi?"

Rapi seemed slightly flustered before that expression vanished.

(Rapi) "If we take care of the Raptures, is it possible for us to return home?"

(Counters Commander) "That's the hope, but I have no idea if anything we did was the cause of it...Kind of reminds me of those devil hunters-"

(M4 SOPMOD II) "What, you guys hunted devils?!"

(Neon) "Yeah, we had some super cool people help us out too! One of them could turn into a chainsaw and-"

(M4 SOPMOD II) "WHAAAAAT?! Commander, I wanna go to their place-"

(Griffin Commander) "Absolutely not."

(Anis) "Psh yeah, you softies wouldn't last a day in there."

(Rapi) "Anis."

(ST AR-15) "That is quite the boast, coming from someone who'd get eviscerated by the most basic doll in our world due to lack of armor."

(Anis) "Hey, I'm just stating the obvious. Our commander could beat the crap outta yours."

(M4A1) "Do NOT talk about our Commander that way."

(Griffin Commander) "M4, STAR. Knock it off, both of you."

(Counters Commander) "You too, Anis. We all need to work together."

(Neon) "Well, I mean, Nikkes do sound cooler than T-Doll."

(M4 SOPMOD II) "Nuh uh! We sound cooler!"

Both commanders sighed loudly as the girls of their squad started arguing.

(Griffins Commander) "Sorry, my teams are not usually like this."

(Counters Commander) "I...wish I could say the same. Well, except for Rapi."

(Neon) "OUR COMMANDER CAN SUPLEX YOURS!"

(M4 SOPMOD II) "OH YEAH? PROVE IT!"

Both Neon and SOPMOD turned to the Commander expectantly.

(Griffin Commander) "...Well, I'm glad to see in whatever world, our squads will always be the same it seems."

(Counters Commander) "Is...that a good thing?"

(ST AR-15) "Our Commander has led several echelons to victory against improbable odds."

(Anis) "Our Commander is the improbable odds!"

M4A1 and Rapi looked at their commanders before glaring at each other silently.

(Griffin Commander) "I'm so glad M16 and RO aren't here today..."

(Counters Commander) "They would've made it worse, I assume?"

(Griffin Commander) "I'd say you'd have no idea, but I think you're the only one who could..."

Both Commanders stared at each other with a mixture of respect, and pity.

Only they knew the struggles of their daily lives, trying to herd an entire army of robotic cats around.

#girls' frontline imagines #girls' frontline headcanons #goddess of victory: nikke imagines #goddess of victory: nikke headcanons #m4a1 gfl #st ar 15 gfl #m4 sopmod ii gfl #rapi nikke #anis nikke #neon nikke #crossover

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godisshook · 5 months

Text

Team Player

David is my hero, the quarterback of the team, the top of his class, and the most popular guy on campus by far. I aspired to be like him, which is why I joined the team in the first place. Everything I did was to get his attention, and I was pumped for our first game of the semester, even though we were up against one of the best teams in the conference.

A blur of plays and calls followed, and in the chaos of the game, time seemed to pass by in an instant. With adrenaline flowing through me, I tried to make a field goal that would at least tie us with them. It was supposed to be my greatest moment, but I missed it. We lost. The world had greyed out from around me, as the rival team cheered their victory, and teammates patted my back for a good effort, I could only stand, motionless. Finally gathering myself, I looked around for David, hoping to explain myself to him, or at least absolve myself of shame, but I couldn't find him anywhere. Giving up, I headed to the locker room with the rest of the team.

My teammates broke into a cacophony in the locker room, "You're in trouble, newbie!" One teammate said in the far back. "I'm jealous, we didn't even lose my first year," another said. Owen, our center, whispered to me, "If you don't want to I'm down to swap!" Completely confused about what anyone was talking about, I asked Owen incredulously, "What the hell do you mean, and where's David?" I saw surprise and then amusement cross over Owen's face, as he replied under his breath, "Well, when we lose, David makes the newbie suck his cock, it's his way of blowing off steam." My eyes widened as complete and utter shock came over me, and I stammered, "Wha-" Before I could even get my question out, Owen spoke again, "Now you don't have to of course, and as I said before, I'm completely down to swap, I haven't had the chance to in ages!"

As the locker room cleared out, I was left alone with my thoughts. I looked up the address on the piece of paper; it was clearly David's place. My crush on him had started since freshman year, and if there was even a chance I could take it further, I had to take it. I contemplated my options; I go to his place and have a chance to give my crush a BJ, or swap and potentially regret it for the rest of my college life. Confronted with this; I made the obvious choice and was met by David as I got to his house. Within seconds, we were upstairs, and he pressed his lips into mine as we kissed. It was as if I was in a dream, and with my brain short-circuiting, I couldn't even question why this was his way of blowing off steam after a loss.

He pulled down his shorts, revealing his massive cock, and as my eyes widened, he let out a slight chuckle. Getting on my knees, I looked up at David for any further direction, to which he simply looked at me, and then his dick. Taking the hint, I slowly started sucking his cock, my tongue swirling around his tip as he grunted in pleasure. My heart was racing, "I really am sucking him off," I thought, as I continued. Suddenly, David took my head in his hands, pushed me into his cock, and moved my head back and forth, faster and faster. "Fuck, Fuckkk, Fuckkkk," David said in a low grunt as if he was holding back. In a moment, cum gushed from his tip, filling my throat as he pressed my head deeper.

I had thought David was done ravaging me, but he kept going, cumming all over my face. Now thoroughly done with me, he pulled his shorts back up, clearly finished. He threw a towel in my direction, which landed squarely on my face. It felt as if I was being hurried out like he was finished with me. I shouldn't feel sad right now; I just got to suck off the hottest guy I know. People would kill for the chance that I had, yet I still contemplated pushing things further. Deep within me, I didn't want things to end; I wanted more. In a flurry of emotion, I yelled, "Fuck you! How are you going to make me suck you off and not fuck me?"

My words were met with silence.

It seemed like I had crossed an invisible line, gone past the point of no return; I just didn't know the consequences. I kept my gaze on him, not breaking eye contact. With just a look he could make you cum, and he knew it. His expression darkened with desire as he finally said, "Go to my room, now." The order sent a shiver down my spine, and as my gaze slowly averted down to his shorts, I noticed his cock once again bulging in it. Unable to even respond, I let out a gulp, nodded, and walked to his room.

As his chain dangled over me, I could feel each rhythmic thrust, a mark of his many past sexual conquests. It was pure ecstasy; my dreams had come true. My eyes rolled to the back of my head as he continued pressing into me, holding me close as his cock went deeper and deeper. As I could feel him pound into me, He had ravaged me completely. "I really just fucked my hero," I thought to myself, a smile coming over me. "After that, I might want us to lose again," David said with a smirk. Nestling myself in his arms, I replied, "How about we do it when we win instead?" Ruffling my hair, he simply answered, "New deal; I'll fuck you anytime."

#college guys #alpha muscle #campus files #football #athlete

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rinbowaman · 8 months

Text

ↀOUBLE IIROUBLE - CHAPTER NINE

sorry for the delay! I finally got time to add the finishing touches! there's alot to this one, and some minor time skips. so i hope its not too confusing. i didnt get to proofread this so pls ignore any mistakes you find.

Warnings: human rights violation, reader is held captive, mentions of punishments, obedience to rules, abuse of authority in a relationship, male leads overpowering reader, isolation, kidnapping, keeping and forcing reader against her will, psychological and emotions turmoil, reader becomes emotionally and mentally reliant on male leads, reader experiences Stockholm Syndrome, unhealthy relationship, very overpowering and controlling behaviors, yandere type stuff. and Smut...lots of smut. mentions of murder too. i think that's it.

“She texted me again…”

“Who? Yeon-Jin?”

“Yeah.”

“yeah Sa-Ra has been doing the same, when can we ditch them? They suck and I’m at the point where I’m not even texting back or answering calls. We should have never started dating them to begin with. What the hell were we thinking?”

“I don’t know. But I’ve heard some things about their treatment towards other girls, especially ones they get jealous over so we’re going to have to approach this delicately. I don’t want to risk them getting mad and taking it out on princess.”

“if they touch my minx, I’m slitting throats.”

“and I’m carving faces.”

As the two brothers ended the alarming conversation, chuckling at the disturbing images that carried on through their minds, you were left at peace upstairs, sleeping in your room, at least, it used to be your room. Nearly six months have passed since you and your stepbrothers had formed this new....relationship.

From the moment they did everything imaginable to you, things that no step siblings should be doing with each other, the comfort of your private abode has ever since been shared with them, leaving their own rooms to become their private home offices and closed off to all, except you. The three of you now share the same bedroom, always sleeping with you in the center, between them, comforted by their warm grasp every night as you slept. Your lips, skin, and breasts were always kissed tenderly by their mouths, and your hair always played and twirled around their finger tips.

Over time, you had noticed something peculiar about the boys. It was rather strange behavior, the way the two shunned everyone else and were absolutely unpleasant, including their own father, yet when it came to you, you were the light in their eyes. It became evident that you garnished special privileges and luxuries, all due to their love for you. Had it not been for your expressive concern, they would have been just as cruel towards your mother as they were with other people, but at your eager concern and pleading, they catered to their adoring nature for you and decided to maintain civil and gentle composure towards your mom, all just for the sake of your happiness.

With you, they were willing to bring down stars and galaxies, there was nothing they wouldn’t do for you. However, being the affectionate onus of their desire wasn’t just purely a rose garden. It came with thorns….many of them.

Months have passed since the the boys took, claimed, and expressed their adoration for you. They provided for you, they continued to love on you, night and day, one at a time or both at once. You couldn't deny the blissful feeling of the pleasurable sensation in having the two of them constantly kissing you from head to toe, and fucking you into oblivion. It took some time for you to adjust....and to your everlasting shame, you feel yourself emotionally and mentally weakened, possibly the reason why you have become stagnant and obedient to their 'rules' and the sole object of their desires.

The first thorn stemmed from the very beginning, after the first harsh punishment you received. It wasn't until after the third punishment, when you were caught in your many attempts trying to leave the house, you learned that the concept of freedom and living an independent life, one that you had before meeting your brothers, was no longer a feasible option. Your life was all about them, and they were all about you.

.......................

Six months ago...

You come back to your senses after the boys were satisfied, much less you, but the very second you all finished with the intense threesome downstairs, you felt an overwhelming sense of shame. Shaken, the realization of what the three of you had done hit you harder than any punch could ever do. What have you just done? First Heeseung last night, then Heejeong this morning, and now the both of them......how could you be so careless? Getting lost in the midst of pleasure, lacking better judgement. More so......how many times did they take their turn, and pumped you with their throbbing members? How many times did you let them cum inside? How could you be so careless? Was it all your fault? You tried to object, yet they were so adamant......and it felt too good......what are you going to do?

The amount of guilt riddled your senses and you felt entirely too uncomfortable in the house. Showering and cleaning you up, the boys kissed your head tenderly as they left you upstairs while they went down to clean up the living room and kitchen, remarking that you took them both like a "good girl", and that you needed to replenish your energy and rest up.

........................

"We don't mind doing the cleaning. You rest. You hungry? We'll order food after we're done."

"Here, just nuzzle up and stay warm. Wanna watch a move later?"

.......................

Both Heejeong and Heeseung were comforting, and entirely too comfortable. Were they not at all feeling guilty or shameful in what just happened? This was so abnormal. How would you explain this to your mother? You all lived in a community where something such as this was so sordid, and their father was far too important and high up to risk allow his sons to be apart of a scandal like this.

You stayed silent, noting that the calming expressions on their faces proved that there was nothing you could say or do to get through to them. They clearly felt no shame, no guilt, and no sense of immoral essence in what they just did.....what you just did....what the three of you had all done.

Their tender pet names for you echos down the hall as they bid you goodnight, before gently shutting the door. The deep chuckles heard on the other side had made your skin crawl. How could you let them do that? How could YOU do that with them? You should have been more forceful with your objections.....how could you let your two step brothers take turns with you......and letting them fill you? You were no better than a whore.

Even after showering and changing, you could still feel the warm liquid oozing out of your cavity, the scent of their cum mixed together hits your nose as you laid in bed, itt brought back the sickening sense in your gut.

With tears forming in your eyes, you felt overwhelmed by the sense of guilt as you reached over for your phone and dialed Wendy in, hoping that there was a way she would be able to aid in getting you to move back in to her apartment, and out of this mess. You're not even sure how you were going to explain your discomfort with your mother or the boy's father....would they even believe you? Would Danny become offended if you were to tell them what his boys were doing? If you explained their real intent in moving you into their home......would he grow angry and falsely claim that you were just out to slander their reputation? The thought grew more believable as you came to the reality that you hardly knew Danny, only meeting him one time at the dinner, and seeing how much more familiar he was with Yeon-jin and Sa-Ra.......how are you going to explain your sudden decision to move out?

Your head started to pound with an ache when you thought of every possible outcome, none seemed to ease your guilty conscious. You press your phone against your ear, waiting for Wendy to pick up.

"hello?...."

"Wendy! Oh my God, Wendy! are you home?"

"Y/n?"

"yes! Wendy, please listen to me.....i have to leave this place. I have to get away from my brothers, i need your help. I can explain in detail later but please..just believe me i have to get out of here. I......i've done something terrible and its partially my fault but.....they.....they're just...."

You stuttered and felt yourself breaking down as the tears rolled on through. Your words came out fast and in a panic as you were eager to tell Wendy everything. So eager, you hand't caught on to her rather aloof and tiresome tone, the lack of concern or enthusiasm in her aura. She sounded dead inside, and it didn't hit you until she finally spoke out and cut you off mid thought.

"y/n......"

"please wendy! can you....can you and jeff come-"

"y/n!........stop......."

"..........why.....what is wrong?.......why are you-"

"y/n.......did you not hear?...."

you gulped......it became dead silent in the room as you quietly whispered into the phone. "Hear what?"

Sighing on the other end, Wendy chokes up as she explains.

"Jeff is dead......."

"......w...what?"

"his body....well his head was found severely decomposed.......they were able to identify him through his dental records...."

Your eyes widened and your chest felt the soreness of a pungent sting. Jeff was dead? How? Why? Why didn't she tell you sooner? Furrowing your brows, you jolted up from the bed and walked around in your room. You felt the need to move, you couldn't be still, your heart was beating faster and faster and you felt yourself panicking.

".....how?......whe....when did this happen? why didn't you tell me?"

"........i just......i was so caught up with constantly talking to the forensic team and the detectives......i was thinking that maybe he was around...just wasn't talking to me or anybody.....but they found his remains two weeks ago.....and determined that he died......"

"wendy?"

"forensics say that he died the night he disappeared."

"......when did he disappear?"

"The night you moved out."

Your heart nearly stopped beating. Your breathing became shallow as Wendy continued.

"I guess...he was so mad at you and your brothers, he must have went out to blow off some steam at the gym that night, but he never came home, and nobody ever saw him come to the gym. They say that its hard to determine his injuries, but they suspect foul play, they just dont have any suspects or witnesses.....so the case is ongoing, but they have already expressed that it is more than likely unsolvable. I've been visiting his mom for the past few days......."

Your eyes became stung by the rush of tears that dripped down, you kept your cool and composure as you expressed your condolences.

"S...sorry.....i hadn't heard....i had no idea........"

"its fine y/n......Jeff was a hard person to deal with, and he did piss off alot of people, and wasn't always friends with the best types. He also dealt with some things that he shouldn't have, so i imagine he was messing with the wrong pgroups and owed money or something. either way, i'm moving on from it....i just need to be alone for a while."

Nodding, you rubbed the temples of your forehead and disregarded your reason for contacting Wendy, wishing her well instead. Somehow, you sensed there was more to the story than what she was willing to let out.

Hanging up, Wendy places her phone down and continues to look out her window, holding onto a note that appeared in her apartment the day Jeff disappeared....something she didn't even show to the detective or the police. Had she done so, she would have risked alot more than just Jeff's own life......

"₵₳₦ ɎØɄ ₴ØⱠVɆ ₮ⱧɆ ⱤłĐĐⱠɆ?

ⱧØ₩ ₥₳₦Ɏ ĐɆ₳Đ ฿ØĐłɆ₴ ₩łⱠⱠ ł₮ ₮₳₭Ɇ ₮Ø ₭ɆɆ₱ ₮ⱧɆ ₱ØⱠł₵Ɇ ₴łⱠɆ₦₮, ₳₦Đ ₮ⱧɆ ฿ØØ₲ɆɎ₥₳₦ ⱠɆ₴₴ VłØⱠɆ₦₮?

Ø₦Ɇ ØⱤ ₮₩Ø?

ł₮ ĐɆ₱Ɇ₦Đ₴ Ø₦ ɎØɄ.

ⱧɆ Ⱨ₳₴ ₳₦ ɆɎɆ Ø₦ ɎØɄ, ₴Ø ĐØ₦₮ ฿Ɇ ₴₦Ɇ₳₭Ɏ.

Ʉ₦ⱠɆ₴₴ ɎØɄ ₩₳₦₮ ₮ⱧɆ ฿ØØ₲ɆɎ₥₳₦ ₮Ø ₲Ɇ₮ ฿ⱠØØĐɎ ₣ⱤɆ₳₭Ɏ. "

Taking the note, Wendy holds it over a small candle, allowing the flame to feed from the corner end and burn it to ash.

"I'm sorry Jeff.........sorry Y/n........."

Days and weeks following the news regarding Jeff, you hadn't spoken to Wendy, nor did you hear from her. Literally the night after finding out about Jeff, the boys took the time before dropping you off at work to set forth some ground rules......rules that you were forced to adhere to. Strict and brutal rules.

....................

"Stop! Let go! Let go of me! You both are crazy! you're insane! get away from me!"

Dragging you by the waist, so easily as you exhausted the depths of your energy to break free from his grasp, Heeseung pulls you into the bedroom, tying you to the bedpost with a set of double knots. With your wrists bound together, and your ankles restrained in the same manner, you were left inside to 'reflect' on what you had done.

"You know.....it wouldn't be so bad if you would just stop breaking the rules. How many times do you need to learn the hard way? No running away."

Leaning in, he issues a sadistically stern look of amusement and violent nature as he reminds you.

"No leaving the house without me or Heejeong.....you keep doing it, you're just going to get locked up."

Harshly tightening the rope, he clenches his jaw as he looks into your eyes deeply, providing you with so much discomfort and fear.

"Baby......just be good....I wouldn't get so mad......" he glares down, watching you sob out. You felt scared and hopeless, completely vulnerable to their mercy and will.

If you weren't getting punished for one thing, it was for another. Once you had realized that trying to escape from the boys was an impossible feat, getting caught every single time and found, punished, and forgiven. You learned that the second rule, was just as important as the first....

"Excuse me, miss?"

Turning around, you saw a young man standing before you holding out his hand. "you dropped this?"

"oh....thank you." Taking silk scarf from the man, you turned away, and shunned the poor fellow out. Standing by the door, you waited for the boys to pull up and bring you home from work, as usual. No matter how many times you took the opportunity to run, hide, and escape, they always found you. You never told your mother about what goes on between you and them, so going to to her was not an option, plus with Danny living with her, there was no way you could run to them. With Wendy no longer contacting you, there was simply no one else you could go to for help or for security. The boys paid out the police, they made frequent networks and contacts with the security that roamed the building of your workplace, leaving you still within sight even when they were not around.

"So....whats your name? I've seen you around here, you work here right?"

Your anxiety reached it's peak when the young man attempted to make conversation. Your brothers would be over to pick you up any moment, you couldn't risk being seen with another man.

"Please.....please....leave me alone....i'm....i'm being picked up by my brothers...they're very protective. please...."

You pleaded with the man, hoping he would take the hint. Not only were you fearful of being punished, for something that you weren't entirely responsible for, you feared for the man's life. Obviously, he would have no way of knowing, no clue as to what he was getting himself into, yet previous encounters showed just how far your brothers were willing to go when it came to eradicating anyone who presented themselves to be a 'bothersome' or 'threat' to you.....and a nuisance to them.

"Wh.....are you in some sort of trouble miss?"

"I SAID JUST LEAVE!" wincing your eyes shut and grasping the door handle, you raised your voice.....it pained you to do so, it wasn't like this man was doing anything wrong, but you had to do something before they arrived.

Stunned by the harshness of your words, the man was taken aback as the security guard of the museum, one that recently has become among the list of paid contacts by your brotherly duo in order keep an eye on you, come walking around from the security desk and squares up to the confused man.

"Is there a problem?"

"I.....I think this woman....i think she's in some sort of trouble, she's.....she's talking about her brothers...i was just having a normal conversation but she's saying some weird things-.."

"I asked you to please leave me alone.....just please go...." you cut him off, glancing over the security guard as he eyeballs the young man.

"hey man, the woman said for you to leave....so leave. she's fine. trust me, you dont want to take things further." the security guard explains, placing a hand up to gesture for the man to back away. With your back remaining towards him, you stared out through the glass door, watching as the car pulls up.

"you better go fast." the security guard utters to you. Knowing full well what your brothers were capable of, yet remained silent since the income was well worth it.

You rush out and was greeted by Heejeong as he gets out of the passenger seat and hugs you warmly, placing a kiss on the side of your head.

"Mmmmmuah! I missed you. How was work?"

"it....was good......thank you."

tucking you in the backseat, he glances over towards the security guard and the man through the glass doors. Smirking, Heejeong sits next to you in the back, as Heeseung greets you and drives the car away.

As far as you were concerned, nothing happened to that young man....at least you hoped nothing hadn't. But then again, its hard to say, especially after the last few times when the occurrences of interested young men who garnished your attention, and paid the ultimately price.....

One was caught, complimenting you while at work, with Heejeong entering your office with a small bouquet of flowers, catching on the man's words.

.......

"I hope you dont mind me saying.....you're very beautiful y/n...."

.......

Another was when you were at a cafe with the boys by your side, and a male barista had jotted his number on your cup.

The third, was a man you ran into at a main event hosted by the museum. You made little conversation with him, trying to remain evasive yet his firm hold as he caught you from falling as you bumped into him, was enough to make the boys blood boil the moment they found out when one of their reliable paid contacts spotted the scenario and relayed it to the boys.

............

"bad girl....did we not tell you?....NO....BOYS."

"time to go to the basement."

..............

The basement was the primary location of where many of the punishments were hosted. Despite how angry they would become, their unyielding love for you restricted them from going too harsh in their methods, or so they claimed.

The lower part of the house was maintained, cleaned, and emptied. It lacked any furnishings and was cold....too cold. Each time you broke a rule, they left you tied up with enough slack to move in a small vicinity, allowing you to shift your body as you slept in your little circle on the cold cement flooring. The lights were kept off, leaving the area entirely pitch black. A harsh lesson and realization was learned from all this....from being left alone in a dark room for hours at a time, for days in a row. Its amazing how isolation in darkness can break down the human mind, and weaken their soul, especially if repeated over and over. The level of fear turning into relief and security the moment you see life again, even if it was in the form of your brothers, the very ones that put you in the hole. What started out as a struggle to fight for freedom, turned into a broken will, bent at the knee as you began to weep each time you upset them. You started to become joyful whenever you would see them after staring off into the dark abyss for so long, despite them being the ones to administering this unruly lesson. Nonetheless, you were grateful each time they came down to bring you out to the dining room, to feed you, despite putting you back in the hole afterwards, until they felt at ease and no longer angry.

There were other twist of emotions that would have never made sense to anyone else, it was a one-eighty twirl from the strong stance you held firm with your own two feet, yet shattered the moment you catered to their despair. It happened around the fourth month, after being punished once again, their words started to hit you deep. Words such as "it pains us to punish you...." or "why cant you just see....that we do this because we love you....we're really not trying to be harsh....."

It may sound crazy, but then again, this whole situation was crazy. Their justifications started to make sense to you, after you had lost all concept in gaining back freedom, something that you have long lost forgotten the meaning of, your mind and heart started to feel the pains that they felt each time they expressed how disappointed and upset they were with you. Little by little, you found the strong desire to excel in following every rule, being a good girl so that you wouldn't upset them, not because you feared of what they would do, that had resorted to a sliver of your worries....instead, you felt shame in yourself for upsetting them. You wanted to please them, to make them happy and to see them smile. Their praises of love and adoration for you and only you, became the only truth that you knew in this world.

Over the course of the past six months, from the first moment that Heeseung took you after your parent's wedding, and when Heejeong expressed his love the next morning, followed by the sinful pleasure the three of you shared in the living room, you broke and were re-molded into someone that wasn't you. You weren't the same, you were weak, vulnerable, and hopless....unless you were with them. Being with them, you were protected, looked out for, loved, cherished, adored, and taken very well care of. You felt fear and anxiety whenever you were at work, but found relief whenever you saw them picking you up. You no longer were resistant to their advances when they grew hungry for your flesh, which caused them to become less forceful and more tender. You were enjoying and welcoming it just as much as they were, lost in the sea of passion and never knowing of the dark smirks that formed on their handsome faces as they realized they succeeded in training you to become obedient and loyal to them......because they loved you beyond what was considered sane and normal.

Six months....... starting from the night of your mother's wedding to Danny, it took the brothers six months to accomplish their goal in making you realize just how much they loved you......

Presently....

"Well........that was fun...i guess..." Yeon-jin crosses her arms as she sits in the backseat, along with you and Sa-ra. The boys took you and the girls to a dinner, one that they were not most happy about in bringing Yeon-jin or Sa-Ra along, yet the girls had seemed to be more forceful about spending time with their boyfriends after not hearing from them for days...sometimes weeks at a time. It wasn't a secret to you, your step brothers explained that within due time, they had plans to ditch the girls, but you were never concerned in their intentions. You trusted their word, considering how often you witnessed them giving the girls the cold shoulder, and always putting you before everything and everyone...especially the girlfriends. You didn't mind, it was thrilling to watch as the girls grew a countenance of jealousy each time the boys paid more attention to you. Now that you accepted their love and returned it back, you loved nothing more to see that love in action, especially in public viewing despite how strategic and tactful it was displayed. You were, after all, still step-siblings.

Aside from the firm trust you had with your brothers, there were indeed several factors that contributed towards the delay of the boys breaking it off with the two girls. Their father was first and foremost, having high hopes that the boys would marry, as much as Heejeong and Heeseung could care less in pleasing their father, they knew that displeasing him beyond a set line, would ultimately further strain the relationship they had with him, which would cause them to lose heir rights to the agglomerate corporation that they were currently entitled to. Before, they had no desire or interest in taking over and running their father's company, but after meeting you, they had something they lived for...something they took as their responsibility and reason for living, therefore, they wanted to ensure they were always going to provide for you, to give ou the world and its greatest luxuries......they wanted to give you everything.

The other half of the delay, were the nasty rumors that both girls acquired from school and around the city. Sure, they're beauty and glamorous fashion sense was admirable, yet their inner personalities became tainted by the fame and fortune of constant popularity and admiration from their peers and co-workers. All of which, turmoiled into a ball of ugliness, that became cruel and tormenting to others whom they deem as beneath them, or those that triggered a sense of jealousy. The boys kept them at a distance, emotionally and physically, and even further away from you.

"This dinner gathering was such a good idea! I'm so glad we were all able to go out." Yeon-Jin smiled out as she narrowed her eyes towards Heejeong as he sat in the driver seat.

"Yeah.....figured since we had some free time....." Heejeong started nonchalantly, but was cut off the moment Yeon-jin became triggered by his words.

"Free time? all you have is free time. I spoke with your father, he says you haven't taken over the company yet......so i'm trying to figure out why you haven't been texting or calling...and why we only see eachother every other week.......in a group setting......." hinting at the failing attributes and lacking intimacy in their relationship, Sa-Ra chimes in and softly taps the back of Heeseung's seat.

"You too. How come we dont see each other anymore?"

You remained gazing out the window by your side as you sat beside Yeon-jin, who remained in the middle between you and Sa-ra. You pretended to not notice, yet the careless silence in the car was filled by the boy's refusal to entertain an answer. Their smirk's said it all as they continued to drive and turn the radio up, playing your favorite playlist.

"Hey! I"m talking to you Heejeong!" Yeon-jin berates, when suddenly the car comes to a screeching halt. You and the two girls flew forward from the momentum, yet Heejeong and Heeseung's hands reached back and pressed you steady as they kept you from hitting the back of the driver's seat. The two girls were not so lucky.

Staring in your direction, noting how the boys prioritized your safety over theirs, had garnished harsh looks shooting your way.

"Oh.....so once again, the step sister gets the special treatment?" Sa-Ra snarls.

"Did you both want to walk home?" Heejeong turns over his shoulder, a dark shadow hovering over his eyes as he smirks out a hint of sadistic delight in the prospect of kicking the two horrible girls out, in the middle of nowhere.

"We can't walk from here! We're miles away, and its dark outsid-" Both Yeon-jin and Sa-ra started up with their gripes and complaints, yet was cut off by an amused Heejeong.

"Shut up......shut up or get out."

Following his brother's vibe, Heeseung chimed in. "And fix your fucking faces.....if i see one of you rolling your eyes one more time, i'm taking them out."

The girls scoffed out a "whatever" as they settled back into their seats. They had no idea that the threats that were just issued, were out of sincerity. They would kick them out.....they would carve their eyes out.....these girls have no idea just who they were dealing with. Yet that wasn't entirely their fault, they didnt get to know the boys so well, since the brothers had a habit in pushing them away and ghosting them, since all they needed and wanted, was you.

Finally arriving at Yeon-jin's home, a large and well designed house with a small courtyard in the front indicated her coming fro ma well established family.

"Get out." Heejeong deeply states.

"How is Sa-Ra getting home?" Yeon-jin asks, before Heeseung snapped back and glared over to the girl.

"He said........GET OUT."

The girls rushed out, and immediately walked inside, occasionally looking back at the car as you and your brothers drove away.

"Fuck they’re annoying......can we just kill them?" Heeseung asks, half heartedly.

"I wish we could.....but lets just give it a couple more weeks, dad says he wanted to have that meeting about the company, we can tap into that while talking with him."

"Wish he would just stay out of our business....why is he in such a rush for us to get married?"

"Dont know......" Heejeong answers back calmly, unable to make sense out of their father's pressuring urge for the boys to take both, Yeon-jin and Sa-ra as wives. He suspected that it had to do with their upbringing, their wealthy families, perhaps there was an arrangement that was made behind closed doors. Either way, it wasn't going to happen, the brothers had a card up their sleeves that would come out to end the game in due time....in due time.

"Baby, you okay back there?" Heeseung turns around in his seat, reaching back as he places his hand on your thigh. "Tired?"

You glanced over to him and slightly shook your head as you softly smiled to him.

"You want anything? We can go to the store, or grab some of your favorite pastries." Heejeong adds as he eyeballs you from the rearview mirror.

Still shaking your head, you sat in the seat with loosely crossed arms, staring at the ground, faintly biting down on your lip. Heeseung smirks and chuckles, before asking you.....

"Do you want me to fuck you baby?"

Looking up with wide eyes, you nodded your head with a mischivious smile on your lips. Unbuckling his seatbelt, Heeseung immediately climbs into the back seat with you, while Heejeong softly chuckles as he props his elbow on the window, steering with one hand as he strokes his chin, continuously enjoying the view in the rearview mirror.

Once Heeseung was in the backseat, next to you, he didnt' waste time as he plastered your neck, face, and your breasts with his kisses. Tugging the spaghetti straps of your cocktail dress down, he pulls you close to him as he reaches up under the hem of your skirt and pulls down your panties harshly, leaving them coiled around one of your ankles, never fully removing them. He was too eager to get to you that the concept of undressing you entirely wasn't a priority.

"Come here baby, I'll fuck you real good." he whispers as he gets pulls you over onto his lap, and has you straddling him with your back leaned against his chest. Spreading your legs wide, your dress coiling around your waist, the slinky and thin material shifted against your skin as it lacks bulk, merely wrapped around and used as a leverage point for him to grab onto when you start bouncing. Your heels lifted as you sit atop his lap, dangling just inches away from the floor mats, while his hands maneuver his throbbing member, trailing its way towards your entry.

Smirking against the tender spot in your neck, he asks you in his deep tone, "ready?".

You nodded in an eager state, and thats when the pressure settles in. The entry of his bulging tip, and the inches that followed suit as he slowly shoves himself in caused you to gasp out in pleasure and pain. It was a sensation that you were deeply familiar with, yet it felt new each time it came back around.

"ugh! Oh m God!" You gasped out, your high pitched tone airing out as you whimper small notes of chiming tunes in the form of pleasured moans.

"Oh yeah?" His deep and dark tone was a stark contrast from your lightened one. Grabbing onto both sides of your waist, he starts to thrust in faster, while also simultaneously lifting and slamming you down, making you bounce relentlessly on his shaft. By the third time you had bounced, your body started to excrete the slick moisture that aided his sliding thrusts. "Awwww...fuck yeah baby...." he whispers as he gasps out. His hips bucking upwards repeatedly as he thrusts faster, and faster.......and faster........

"Oh my God...mmm......fuck.....Heeseung.....Heeseung! ugh! Oh my God i'm gonna cum!" gasping out, you voiced out the heightened peak of pleasure as the man already had you on the verge of cumming, and he had only just began fucking you.

Reaching up and around your chest, he cups your throat and pulls you back as he buries his face into the side of your face, meshing a myriad amount of kisses against your skin as he toys a tone out and speaks with his lips glued to your skin, coming out muffled. His thrust slow down, going in deeper and harsher as he waves his hips against your rear, and uses his grip on our waist to roll your hips back and forth. "Oh not yet baby....i know....i know....oh i fucking know....." he continues as he picks the pace back up and continues to thrust into you at high speed. "Hold it in for me baby, i gotta fuck you some more......my beautiful girl.....gonna fuck you sooooo good."

At the last bit, he pushes you forward and you felt his body shifting position as he forces you down on your knees, leaning your chest down on the center console as your upper body feeds in between the front seats, with Heejeong to your left side. Your hands reach up and grab onto the stereo system. The cool air drafting over your rear cheeks as you feel Heeseung mounting you from behind, and re-enters, brutally fucking you doggy-style.

"Ugh! ugh! ugh! ugh! Oh my God! ugh! Please! Please!"

"Please what baby?" he gasps out in between his groans as he thrusts into you, his groin slapping against your suppled cheeks as he keeps you steady with a tight grip around your waist, with his thumbs extending up and stroking the grooves of your lower back muscles. Bopping up and down, back and forth, your body moves in a momentum that was unmistakable, you were being pelted hard and getting it good, thank goodness the car had tinted windows.

Hitting that sweet spot, you screamed out as you reach over and grab onto Heejeong's thigh. He in turn, while stopping at a red light, looks over to you and delicately cradles your chin in his hand, turning you to face him as Heeseung continued.

"Yeah? Is he fucking you hard baby?" Heejeong asks, pulling your face inward, kissing you. Your face shifts in various directions as your body continues to bounce forward from the hard thrusting that Heeseung continued on with , even going faster and harder than before.

Whining into Heejeong's mouth, you whimpered and gasped out as he pulls back and barely breaks the kiss, staring into your eye as he swipes his thumb over your parted lips. "Keep taking it like a good girl.....you're doing so well." He whispers out, kissing you once again before continuing the drive once the light turned green.

"Ah fuck......fuck baby you're so tight and wet......fuck you feel so good." Heeseung groans out, gritting his teeth as he smirks, covered in sweat. Heejeong blasts the A/C after noting the beads forming on your forehead. "Breathe baby.....breathe." He states as he ups the dial and increases the air flow.

"Fuck her harder." Heejeong calmly tells his brother while looking his way through the rearview mirror.

"Mmmmmfuck!"

"Fuck her faster."

"Fuck i'm gonna cum.....she feels so fucking good."

The exchange of words between the two only riled you up to the point where you felt the knot in your gut snapping. "Oh my God! I'm-......i'm going to cum! Heeseung! AHHHHHHH!"

"Fucking give it to her Heeseung." Heejeong urges as he cups your chin, sticking his thumb inside your mouth, resting in between your teeth.

"Fuck! Fuck i'm cumming!" Heeseung groans out and falls forward, plastering his chest against your back as his weight presses you to fall atop the center console. Biting onto Heejeong's thumb, you softly release it as you gasp out from the overbearing density of Heeseung's weight pushing you down.

After a few seconds of heavy breathing, Heeseung lifts himself up and pulls you back, caressing your body and kissing you tenderly as he lays you down on the backseat.

Pulling up to your favorite bakery, Heejeong parks the car as Heeseung throws his clothes back on, all the while catching his breath.

"You've been driving all night, how about i go inside and grab babygirl's pastries, and drive us back home. You can come here and.....'cuddle' with her." With a quick peck on your cheek, Heeseung exits the car, while Heejeong tosses him the keys as he enters the backseat.

Caressing your face, with his hand cupping your cheek, he notes your worn out state and how blissfully fucked your face looked. Still panting, you release a tiny whimper as you gaze into his eyes.

"Aww......baby tired?" Kissing you tenderly, he hums into your mouth. Reaching up, you loop your arm around the back of his neck, gently caressing the silver strands of his locks. Barely breaking the kiss, he whispers against your skin....

"come here baby....." taking your hand in his, he guides you down to his zipper. "grab it."

Authors notes: Ah and the smut thickens! lol.

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