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moonscriptsx · 8 months

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Daylight || 02 (M)

PART 1

I don't wanna look at anything else now that I saw you I don't wanna think of anything else now that I thought of you

SYNOPSIS: Between the endless flirty banter or secret looks of longing, the line between you and your boss had always been slightly blurred. But when a night out with friends has you and your boss meeting for the first time outside of the workplace, that line starts to become nonexistent as mutual feelings are brought to light.

PAIRING: CEO!Wonwoo x Assistant!Reader [with appearances by Mingyu (a self-proclaimed Cupid extraordinaire), Soonyoung & Joshua as supportive besties, Seungkwan & Seokmin as the life of the party, Seungcheol (a menace), and a brief glimpse of Chan.]

GENRE: Coworkers→Friends→Lovers!AU – Fluff + Smut [minors dni]

WORDS: 12.7k.

WARNINGS: Slowburn, pining from both ends. Reader is constantly in a silent crisis when it comes to feelings, and Wonwoo is possessive (both in and out of the bedroom). Mentions of alcohol, cursing, and grinding on the dancefloor. Wonwoo is a slightly hard!dom but talks you through it so sweetly it'll make you melt. Oral (both recieving), unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), messy orgasms. Slight choking, dirty talk, alludes to squirting. Wonwoo is a pussy fiend.

A/N: We've made it to part 2!!! Thank you to everyone who left messages/comments on the first part! Seeing such positive feedback has made my heart soar to the heavens and honestly a little emotional hahahaha. This is the first thing I've written in almost 4 years so I was a little apprehensive when it came to posting 'cause I felt like I was incredibly rusty. Anyway, enough blabbering from me – I hope everyone enjoys the final part! 🥰

PLAYLIST: wonder by shawn mendes // right here by chase atlantic // with me by sum41 // never let me go by florence + the machine // love (feat. zacari) by kendrick lamar // wfm by realestk // mine (feat. drake) by beyonce // fine line by harry styles

The pounding in your head is a telltale sign of a night well spent when you wake up the next day, a groan emitting from your lips. Somehow Soonyoung had convinced everyone to migrate from the club to a karaoke bar halfway through the night, resulting in you stumbling home drunk off your ass at half past three in the morning. And while a hangover is a sign of a successful night out — you want nothing more than to shove your face back into your pillow.

Just as you maneuver yourself to dive back under the covers, your phone buzzes from beside you, the ringer doing absolutely nothing to aid your headache as you blindly reach for the device, not bothering to look at the caller.

“Hello?” You grumble, irritated at the disruption.

A deep chuckle ringing in your ear has your body shooting straight up from your bed.

“Rough night, sweetheart?” Wonwoo’s voice is teasing and you can’t help but feel your face flush at the endearing term.

“I — Mr. Jeon!” You stutter out, face flushing with embarrassment. “I’m sorry. I didn’t check to see who was calling before I answered.”

“Understandable,” he reassures. “With the amount of drinks we had last night I don’t blame you for sleeping in.”

Sleeping in…?

Bringing the phone away from your ear, you glance at the time on your phone.

10:45 am.

“Oh, fuck!” You cursed, ripping the covers away from your body as you scrambled to get out of bed. From the receiving end, Wonwoo can’t help but laugh as he hears the commotion on your side.

“Mr. Jeon, I'm so sorry —!”

“It’s quite alright, sweetheart,” there he goes again, using the term of endearment like it doesn’t send your heart hammering a mile a minute in your chest. “I just got to the office not too long ago. It’s not a big deal.”

But it is a big deal, you thought to yourself. Not once in the two years that you’ve been Wonwoo’s assistant have you ever been late. You pride yourself on being punctual, making sure to get to the office at least thirty minutes before you were scheduled just so that you could get everything set up and ready to go by the time you had to clock in.

“Sir I’m —“

“(Y/N),” Your breath catches in your throat at the sound of your name. “Are you in the office right now?”

Your eyebrows furrow at that.

“No,” you reply, confused.

“So why the formalities then?”

“I —“ you pause, trying to catch your breath from the sudden question. “You’re my boss. Am I not supposed to address you as such?”

“After last night, I’ve come to realize I don’t want you to call me anything but my name.”

Your face grows hotter at his words, flashes of the two of you unabashedly grinding against one another in the club fills your mind, and you’re sucking in a harsh breath as you try to ignore the heat growing in between your legs.

“Last night was kind of crazy, huh?” You bite your lip in nervousness, trying to steady your rapid heartbeat.

“It wasn’t enough for me.”

Oh, you thought to yourself. I’m fucked…

“Wonwoo,” you breathe out, and you can hear him sigh at the sound of his name.

There’s a brief silence on the other end and you’re starting to think maybe he’s regretting everything from last night to this morning until you hear his hum of approval.

“Anyways,” Wonwoo clears his throat. “Take your time getting to the office, sweetheart. You deserve a peaceful start to the morning.”

A soft hum escapes you at his words, an eyebrow quirking in amusement as you balance the phone between your ear and shoulder.

“Are you sure?” You muse, teasingly. “I’m scared the office will be in shambles by the time I get there.”

A chuckle reverberates from the receiving end, butterflies filling your stomach as your boss tuts quietly.

“I’ll have you know that Mingyu is doing a fine job —“

“No I’m not!” There’s a groan in the background, a giggle escaping your lips as you hear a scuffle on the other end. “He’s torturing me, (Y/N)!”

“I am not,” Wonwoo scoffs.

“He’s making me wait on hand and foot for him!”

You let out a full blown laugh at that, shaking your head at Mingyu’s dramatics.

“Aw, poor baby,” you coo. “He’s not used to having to do things for someone else.”

“Excuse me — hey!”

There’s a distant bang on the receiver, the sound of a lock clicking through the phone and Mingyu’s distant shouts as you realize Wonwoo had closed the door to his office.

“I should give him more work,” you hear your boss grumble. “He’s been far too happy these days.”

“I have some ideas,” you muse in response, making Wonwoo chuckle.

“Good,” he hums. “We can go over them when you get here.”

It’s half past twelve in the afternoon when you finally make it into the office, in a much happier mood than you are usually in when you arrive in the morning. An iced coffee is in your right hand while you carry your laptop bag in the other, greeting every scowling face you pass by as you make your way to your desk. Placing your belongings onto your station, you pay no mind to the mass of missed calls as you push open the door to your boss’s office. There’s a playful smile painted on your lips as you cross your arms over your chest, body leaning against the doorframe as Wonwoo looks up from his computer, the man smirking as he sits back against his chair.

“There she is,” he greets. “Did you have a nice morning?”

“I slept peacefully,” you respond. “But I was rudely awakened by a phone call.”

“Oh?” He asks with mock concern. “And who dares to wake the princess from her slumber?”

You bite back a smile, adjusting your weight from one foot to the other, and give him a pointed gaze.

“My asshole boss.”

Your response has Wonwoo throwing his head back, a genuine laugh escaping him as he grins at your words.

“Touche,” he beams. “It’s been a dull morning without you here.”

It’s a genuine sentiment that makes your heart pound against your ribcage, those damned butterflies fluttering wildly in the pit of your stomach, and you can feel your cheeks heat up as you bashfully break eye contact. Clearing your throat, you try to get a hold of the nervousness as you shoot him a questioning glance.

“Was Mingyu not keeping you enough company?” You ask.

“Not the kind of company I had hoped for.”

Wonwoo’s words make your breath catch in your throat, his sharp gaze heated underneath the thick rims of his glasses, and you felt your mouth go dry as you watched him lean back against his chair. Broad shoulders are slouched in comfort, his toned chest visibly defined through the tight fabric of his shirt. His sleeves are carelessly buttoned up to his elbows, the muscles of his arms making you want to salivate at the sight, and you can only blink at him before you snap out of your daze.

Unfolding your arms, you push yourself off of the doorway and gesture towards your desk placed right outside his office.

“I should get to work,” you murmur, making Wonwoo frown. “I'm already hours behind and I’m sure Mingyu didn’t do much to help.”

Not waiting around to hear his response, you turn on your heel and tread back to your desk, all the while trying to keep your heartbeat steady and those damn butterflies out of your stomach.

“Kim Mingyu, I'm going to murder you.”

The grumble falls out dejectedly from your lips as you glare at the screen in front of you, mentally cursing the tall businessman into oblivion. Not only had he rearranged the setup of your email, he had completely screwed up the excel sheet for next week’s company meeting. Every detail you had notated for Wonwoo was now scattered and jumbled amongst the cells as they sat in completely different categories than they had been previously. If you had been one of those old cartoon characters, you were certain that steam would be coming out of your ears.

Inhaling sharply, you crack your knuckles and your neck before hastily getting to work. The setback of sleeping in this morning has its consequences as you sit at your desk and try – keyword: try – to fix the absolute shitstorm that Mingyu had left behind. A task which ended up turning into hours upon hours of you clicking from cell to cell, meticulously moving each key point back to its designated section. There’s a slight sting in your eyes as your vision blurred from having to stare at the screen for so long, and you huff in annoyance as you save the excel spreadsheet, mentally waving a white flag as you give up on the document for the day.

Running your hands over your face, you glance at the clock at the bottom left of your screen.

05:54 PM.

Sighing in annoyance, you glance around the office. Most of your co-workers had left right at five, not wanting to spend another minute stuck in their cubicle. Had you not slept in, you would’ve gotten out sooner rather than later, but you wanted to make up for the time (and mistakes Mingyu had made) lost.

Hovering your cursor over your email, you clicked the envelope and stared at the unread emails on your screen. A quick glance over the senders names has you instantly weaning out the priority ones from the junk ones, before you’re opening one from Seungcheol. Skimming over his response, you can feel the air in your lungs tighten as your gaze freezes over the last sentence of his response.

Ms. (Y/N),

Your speedy response as well as the insight you have provided is much appreciated! It’s nice to know that the man I am working on this project with has such a reliable and efficient staff working for him. Please tell Wonwoo I am looking forward to this meeting next week.

P.S; I did not realize a congratulations was in order for the two of you! I wish you a happy and healthy marriage! Many blessings to you both.

Choi Seungcheol – Personal Representative of Choi Industries

Glancing at the email Mingyu had sent from your account earlier that morning, your blood runs cold as your gaze darts to the signature printed on the screen below your response.

Much regards, Jeon (Y/N).

“KIM MINGYU!”

You’re fuming as you bolt out of your chair and yell out into the quiet office space, the quickened pace of your heart pumping loudly in your ears as your angered footsteps walk away from your desk and down the hallway into Mingyu’s office. If looks could kill you knew he would be dead as his eyes widened, a pleading - almost puppy like - gaze falling on yours as he raised his hands in defense.

“I didn’t do it!” He denies, and you can only grit your teeth at the businessman.

“Bullshit,” you spat. “You were the only one on my computer today.”

“How do you know that?” He asks, defensively. “You were out all morning. Someone else could’ve used it.”

“Don’t play with me, Gyu,” you grit out harshly. “This is my job you’re messing with!”

Mingyu’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“What are you talking about?” He questioned. “All I did was rearrange a few things -”

“My email signature!” You yelled, anger flaring through your veins as realization crossed his features. “Are you out of your fucking mind?!”

The defensive expression on Mingyu’s face washes into a smug one, brown eyes dancing with mischief as he smirks and crosses his arms over his broad chest.

“Oh, that,” he muses. “You don’t like it?”

“I am going to murder you,” you bite out, making Mingyu’s smirk widen into a shameless grin.

“It’s not that big of a deal -”

“What’s going on?”

You instinctively freeze at the deep rumble from behind you, eyes widening in alarm as you give Mingyu a warning glance. The man in front of you only beamed in delight as he leaned around your frame from where he sat at his desk to grin at your boss who was now standing behind you.

“Your assistant is threatening me,” he states, pointing a finger in your direction. “I don’t feel safe in this workplace.”

Wonwoo purses his lips, giving Mingyu an accusing glance.

“I’m sure it’s for good reason,” he muses. “She doesn’t just threaten anyone.”

“You’re taking her side?!” The businessman whines, slouching in defeat. “None of you in this office have my back.”

Your glare hardens as you stare at the man before you.

“Maybe if you weren’t such an insufferable prick we’d be a lot nicer.”

Mingyu’s mouth drops open at your words, hurt flashing across his features as his face falls.

“(Y/N),” he murmurs. “It was a joke.”

You could feel Wonwoo take a step closer towards you, the warmth of his body mere centimeters from your back as he towers over your frame to glare at Mingyu.

“What did you do?”

He doesn’t even have to raise his voice to get his point across, the harsh tone a warning in itself as he glowers at his friend.

Mingyu lowers his head in defeat.

“I changed her email signature,” he mutters, shamefully.

Wonwoo’s jaw sets.

“Changed it to what?” He asks. Mingyu’s gaze is still locked on the papers scattered on his desk.

“Jeon (Y/N).”

A wave of embarrassment crosses your features at Mingyu’s words as you fight off the heat that floods your cheeks. From behind you, you can feel Wonwoo inhale sharply, followed by an exasperated exhale falling from the CEO as he inched closer to your form. A fleeting touch of his fingers brushing against the small of your back has you freezing on the spot, your body not willing to move an inch as Wonwoo’s presence looms over you.

There’s a pregnant pause, no breaths taken, until a soft rumble reverberates against your back.

“Well,” Wonwoo begins, a smirk of amusement playing on his lips. “That explains the influx of texts and emails congratulating me on my marriage.”

A sharp turn of your head has your gaze falling on the amused CEO behind you, your eyes widening in shock as you stare at your boss. Mingyu lets out a bark of a laugh, a sigh of relief escaping him as Wonwoo’s eyes glint in the lights, his glasses long forgotten in his office as he quirked an eyebrow at you.

You’re rendered speechless at the two men, completely taken off guard at their unbothered stance on the matter at hand. Your weary gaze meets Wonwoo’s humorous one, your boss offering you a reassuring smile before he’s looking towards Mingyu.

“Go change it back,” he orders, giving his friend a warning look. Mingyu’s amusement diminishes instantaneously.

“Aw, c’mon,” he groans. “Is it really that big of a deal?!”

“Yes,” you grit harshly, glaring at the tall brunette. “It’s unprofessional.”

Mingyu pouts, eyes darting back and forth between you and Wonwoo.

“It wouldn’t be if it was true.”

His murmured words have your fists clenching at your sides, your lips parting to scold him once more when Wonwoo places a hand on your shoulder, urging you to stay quiet.

“Now.”

Mingyu flinches at Wonwoo’s order, his head hanging low shamefully as he begrudgingly pushes himself away from his desk. Wonwoo’s hand stays put on your shoulder, slender fingers gently grasping your body as he subtly pulls you into him as his friend trudges out of the office.

“And Mingyu?” He calls out, making his friend freeze on the spot as he half turns to look back at his boss. “Go pick up the food I ordered from Dae’s.”

Mingyu’s mouth falls open, a whine escaping him.

“What?!” He splutters, helplessly. “She’s the assistant -”

“And she’s assisting me with something else,” Wonwoo cuts him off. “Don’t make me tell you again.”

Closing his mouth, Mingyu hesitates, brown eyes scanning the two of you before he’s rolling them with a huff and walking away. You’re glued to the spot as Wonwoo’s sharp gaze falls on you, a frown painted across his lips. Without his glasses, there’s nothing shielding the piercing look in his eyes as he leans in closer towards you. There’s a flash of sadness crossing his features as he presses gently against you, his big hands finding purchase on the edge of Mingyu’s desk as he cages you between it.

“Mr. Jeon –”

“Wonwoo,” he corrects.

The deep rumble of his voice vibrates against your chest as he peers down at you, neck bent slightly as he lowers himself to level his gaze with yours.

“What’s going on?” You ask, swallowing the nervous lump in your throat as heat flares through your body.

Wonwoo’s frown deepens.

“Would it be so bad?” He asks, making you shoot him a confused look. You’re about to ask him what he means when he cuts you off. “Being my wife?”

Those damned butterflies flutter away in the pit of your stomach at his questions, your eyes widening in shock, and your lips part in surprise as you stare at the man in front of you. The close proximity of his body against yours has heat flaring through your veins as his warmth engulfs you, completely overtaking your senses as his hands move from the desk to slide along your arms.

“I – What..?”

Your spluttering doesn’t falter his movements once, his intense gaze boring into yours as his fingers glide along the expanse of your arms, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

“It’s a yes or no question, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his warm breath fanning against your cheek as his hands reach up to gently grasp your face.

You can’t help but to relish in his touch, eyes closing as you melt into his warmth, and your breath catches in your throat as he brushes his nose against yours.

“Answer me, (Y/N).”

Letting your fingers grasp around his wrists, you fight to catch your breath as you manage to meet his gaze despite the overwhelming fluttering happening in the pit of your stomach.

“No,” you finally answer. “It wouldn’t.”

Wonwoo’s grip on your face tightens, his eyes darkening with desire, and his lip curls upwards as he looks at you.

“I could make you my wife,” he states, and you almost whine with want as his lips brush against yours with every word. “Just say the word, sweetheart, and I’ll give you anything you want.”

“Mr. Jeon –”

“Wonwoo,” he growls, pulling you flush against him as his lips hover yours. “Call me anything but my name again and I’ll show you what happens to girls who don’t listen.”

A shaky breath escapes you at his words and you can’t fight back the shutter of anticipation as his lips ghost along the corner of yours.

“Wonwoo,” you breathe out, making him hum in response. “We can’t.”

“We can,” he reassures, and it takes everything in you to draw back from him.

“No,” you deny, even though every instinct in your body is screaming the opposite. “We can’t.”

Wonwoo clenches his jaw, lips pressed into a tight line, and he glowers at you as he shoots you a disapproving look.

“And why not?” He asks, gritting his teeth. “What are you so afraid of?”

“Well, for starters, you’re my boss,” you begin, trying to push away the heat pooling between your thighs as Wonwoo’s gaze pierces through yours. “That’s an HR violation that I don’t want to have attached to my name.”

“I can take care of that,” he counters. “Any violation towards you will be overruled.”

“That can be considered as nepotism,” you point out. “People are going to think I slept my way to the top.”

Anger flashes in his eyes.

“If anyone says anything negative towards you or about you I’ll have them blacklisted in all regions of this goddamn country,” he growls.

“Wonu.”

Cautiously you reach forward, your hands cupping his face as you try to settle the rage within him. His eyes are blazing into yours, a fire lit within the darkened irises, and he’s gripping your wrists like a lifeline.

“I mean it,” he affirms. “You’ve been with me for two years. Twenty-four months, (Y/N). You have shown nothing but loyalty towards me, and towards this company. You are the hardest working woman I’ve ever encountered, and the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid my eyes on.”

Your heart swells at his words, a shaky breath escaping you as he presses you back against Mingyu’s desk.

“You have never been just my assistant,” he murmurs. “And you know it.”

There are a million sirens blaring in your brain, signaling for you to back off, to pull away and resist the urges. But with Wonwoo’s warm breath fanning against your cheek, his sharp nose gently brushing against yours, there’s no hesitation within you as you card your fingers through his hair and pull him towards you, your lips pressing firmly against his.

A groan of approval reverberates against your mouth as Wonwoo clutches your body against his, the tall stature of his frame enveloping yours as he bends you back against the desk. The heat emitting off of his body courses through your veins as his needy lips move against yours, his hands dropping to grip the back of your thighs as he lifts you up onto the desk. Your nails dig into the nape of his neck as his tongue runs along the seam of your lips, begging for you to part them as he wraps your legs around his hips. A moan escapes you as your lips part, allowing Wonwoo’s tongue to meet yours in a haste that leaves you breathless.

You’re drawing back from him, in what was supposed to be a brief moment to catch your breath, but he’s chasing your lips with no hesitation. Greedy hands are gliding along your thighs before he’s clutching them, blunt nails digging into the flesh as he marks them with his touch. The action draws a mewl from you, a desperate whine escaping your lips as you reciprocate the action by digging your nails into his back. Wonwoo growls against your mouth.

“Are you challenging me?” He asks, words muffled against your lips. You smirk in response.

“Maybe,” you tease coyly, making him draw back from you.

There’s a dangerous glint in his eyes and he’s pulling you even closer towards him until your clothed cunt is pressed against his hardening bulge. The hand that held your thigh starts to slither upwards, calloused fingers teasingly brushing against the hem of your lace panties as Wonwoo dips his head into the crook of your neck.

His tongue flattens against the juncture that’s between your shoulder and your neck before he’s grazing his teeth along your skin, your breath catching in your throat when you feel him run his fingers along your clothed core. He smirks against your skin when you mewl in response, your hips lifting off of the desk as an attempt to gain more friction. Wonwoo tuts under his breath, digits teasingly brushing against your panties.

“Needy girl,” he remarks, nipping playfully at your neck. “I haven’t even touched you yet and you’re already soaked for me.”

You groan at his words, back arching as you try to press yourself flush against him.

“I’m always soaked for you,” you confess, and you nearly shiver at the flash of desire that sparks within his dark eyes.

“Yeah?” He asks, fingers now gripping the hem of your panties. “Have you been thinking about me, sweetheart?”

You can only moan in reply, hissing when the cool air of the office hits your bare pussy as Wonwoo slides your panties down your legs.

“Do you think about me being underneath your desk? About me being on my knees with my head between your thighs while I lick your cunt?”

Wonwoo’s words sends heat straight to your core, a whimper escaping you as he’s teasingly sliding his digits along your folds so he can coat them in your arousal. You could almost cry with the amount of tension between your thighs, your cunt begging to be touched as he levels his face with yours, dark eyes fueled with desire as they meet yours.

“Or do you think about me bending you over my desk and fucking you from behind?” You watch as he brings his fingers up to his mouth, his tongue licking your arousal clean off of them.

The lewd sight has you keening with want, your hands reaching out to grab his belt buckle as you blindly undo his pants. Wonwoo clenches his teeth before catching your wrist and pinning it next to you on the desk. The action causes you to smirk up at him, a feigned innocence playing on your features.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish,” he grits, making the smirk on your face widen.

“Oh, I have every intent of finishing you.”

Wonwoo opens his mouth to retort when the distant ‘ding’ of the elevator echoes in the hallway, your eyes widening in alarm, and you hastily push your boss away from you as you scramble to climb off of Mingyu’s desk. Standing back on your feet, you can’t even spare a glance toward the man who just had his tongue down your throat (and who is now shoving your forgotten panties in his pocket) as you straighten your skirt and power walk back to your desk, trying to ignore the aching that settled between your thighs.

“Are you going to tell us what the emergency meeting is for?”

Soonyoung and Joshua’s worried gazes make you want to shrink into the booth, the after effects of what you and Wonwoo had done in Mingyu’s office weighing on you like a dumbbell crushing your chest. You had fucked up and let your desire get the best of you instead of listening to the rational part of your brain — and it was eating you alive.

A heavy sigh escapes your lips as you guiltily look down at the menu on the table.

“Something happened between Wonwoo and I,” you muttered, shamefully.

Soonyoung and Joshua blink, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Isn’t… isn’t that what you wanted…?” Joshua asks, and you frown.

“Well, yes, but —“

“No but’s, (Y/N),” Soonyoung tuts. “Clearly you and Wonwoo have feelings for each other. Something was going to happen eventually.”

“Yes, eventually,” you clarify. “Not this soon! Especially not with me and him almost fucking on Mingyu’s desk.”

“WHAT?!”

The sudden outburst from the two of them echoes in the diner, earning dirty looks from the other customers as you palm your face in embarrassment. Your cheeks grow hot as shame washes over your body, a groan escaping your lips as you peek at your friends, both of which are staring at you with wide eyes and open mouths.

“It just happened, okay,” you defended yourself. “One minute I was telling him we can’t pursue anything and the next I’m on top of Mingyu’s desk with Wonwoo’s tongue down my throat.”

“Okay, first — ew,” Joshua grimaces. “I don’t need a visual.”

“That’s kinda hot, actually,” Soonyoung counters. “Fucking in the workplace? Nice.”

“Shut up,” you hissed, glaring at both of them. “This is a serious issue.”

Joshua purses his lips, his gaze scrutinizing.

“Not really,” he dismisses. “From everything you have told us, it sounds like he reciprocates your feelings, honey.”

“Yeah,” Soonyoung agrees. “And I saw you two at the club the other day. Whether you want to admit it to yourself or not, both of you are down bad.”

You roll your eyes at Soonyoung’s words, scoffing as you take a sip of your water.

“And besides,” he continues. “He’s your friend —“

“He’s my boss,” you reiterate. “I’m his assistant, Soonyoung. That’s unprofessional.”

“It’s only unprofessional if you make it unprofessional,” Joshua states. “I’m sure if the two of you became official you’re not going to flaunt it at the office.”

“Even if they did, who cares?” Soonyoung shrugs. “Employee relationships happen all the time.”

“Yes, employee’s date each other. Not bosses and their assistants.”

“I don’t know if I believe that,” Joshua clicks his tongue in disapproval. “Have you ever watched ‘The Nanny’?”

“Seriously, Shua?” You rolled your eyes. “First off, that’s a TV show, meaning it’s fictional. Secondly — she was his nanny, not his assistant.”

“But the point still stands,” he continues. “The two of them fell in love regardless of their positions. And they didn’t care who found out or what would come of it.”

You sigh, knowing he’s right.

“HR is going to have a field day with this,” you muttered. “And I’m going to get fired.”

Soonyoung shrugs as he takes a sip of his drink.

“Who cares,” he dismisses. “You can’t help who you gain feelings for. And, besides, if you get fired Wonwoo can take care of you.”

“I don’t need someone to take care of me,” you snapped. “I want to keep my job.”

“And he’ll make sure you will,” Joshua reassured you, gently placing his hand on yours. “But you have to talk to him, (Y/N). He has feelings too.”

Your shoulders slump in defeat at his words, a heaviness weighing on your heart, before you’re reluctantly nodding.

“You’re right,” you concede. “I’ll talk to him.”

Settling back against the booth cushions, Joshua offers you a smile of encouragement before he’s picking his menu up from the table.

“Alright, now who’s hungry?”

You did not, in fact, talk to Wonwoo.

Instead, for the first time in the two years that you had been working for him, you called out sick.

You knew that Joshua and Soonyoung were right when they told you to talk to Wonwoo, to lay out all feelings and thoughts in order to understand what it was that was going on between the two of you. But the mere thought of being in a room with him after what had happened in Mingyu’s office and the thought of not being able to trust yourself around him was too much, that all of the pent up feelings and tension would end up causing both of you to snap and make a move that would ultimately change your dynamic forever – as if it hadn’t already.

You knew that if Mingyu hadn’t gotten back to the office at the time that he did, the situation between you and Wonwoo most definitely would have escalated into something more. You knew that Wonwoo had been seconds away from dropping to his knees and spreading your legs, licking and sucking until you were a writhing, crying mess on his friend’s desk. And that’s why you called out.

“What do you mean you’re not coming in?” Mingyu had asked, exasperatedly.

“I’m calling out,” you reiterated. “I don’t feel well.”

“I –” Mingyu paused, a heavy sigh following. “Why are you telling me and not Wonwoo?”

There had been a brief pause on your end, your throat tightening as your mind had flashed back to the events days prior.

“Gyu, please. Just tell him I’m not coming in today,” you begged. “I’m sorry.”

You should’ve caught the worried tone that had been in Mingyu’s voice. You should’ve known that he would’ve caught on to your pitiful lie, that he was going to run straight to the source itself to find out what the actual reason for your calling out was.

But most of all, you should’ve predicted that Wonwoo’s persistence and stubbornness would get to the better of him.

A knock on your door pulls you out of your thoughts, your eyebrows furrowing in confusion as you wearily walk over to it and peer out of the peephole, your breath catching in your throat as you stare at the man who stood outside of it.

With his hands shoved in the pockets of his slacks, glasses perched on his nose, and a determined expression on his face stood Wonwoo. Those damned butterflies are fluttering wildly in the pit of your stomach at the sight of your boss, your heart speeding up as you contemplate not answering the door – but you knew better than that. You knew that despite you calling out this morning that Wonwoo was going to want an explanation. That despite your best efforts to deflect from the situation just days before, he was going to want to discuss the matter at hand sooner rather than later.

Taking a deep breath, you allow yourself a moment to collect your composure before opening the door.

You stare dumbfoundedly at your boss, shock lit across your features as you stand in the doorway.

“How – how did you get my address?”

Wonwoo’s expression is stony, his gaze piercing yours through the thick rims of his glasses, and you catch the movement of his jaw clenching as he glares at you.

“You’re avoiding me.”

His tone is cold as he deflects your question and the harshness of his voice makes you wish the ground would open up from beneath you and swallow you whole, all the while suddenly painfully aware that you’re standing in front of your boss in nothing but your oversized sleep shirt.

“I – I’m not avoiding you,” you stuttered out. “I wasn’t feeling well this morning.”

Wonwoo’s eyes narrow into a menacing glare.

“You and I both know that that is a lie.”

Pushing past you, you watch open-mouthed as Wonwoo makes his way into your apartment, a bolt of panic rushing through you as you fumble to close the door behind you. His back is to you as he faces your living room and you watch as his hands slip out of his pockets, fists clenching and unclenching by his sides before he’s turning to look at you in the doorway.

“You called Mingyu,” he bites out, menacingly. “Instead of calling me, your boss, you called Mingyu.”

Swallowing the lump that had formed in your throat, your feet shuffle nervously as your gaze drops to the ground.

“I didn’t want to bother you,” you say quietly, making Wonwoo scoff.

“Cut it out, (Y/N),” he spats. “You bother me more often than most of my other employee’s do.”

There’s a blow to your ego at his words as your head snaps up to look at him, hurt flaring in your eyes as you glared right back at your boss.

“Then why keep me around?” You ask, harshly. “If I’m such a fucking bother to you why not fire me?”

Wonwoo grits his teeth, anger flashing in his eyes.

“Because I cannot fathom the idea of my life without you in it!”

The sudden confession knocks the air out of your lungs, your lips parting in shock, and the butterflies multiply tenfold as Wonwoo stares at you with a gaze mixed with fury and desire. You’re frozen to the spot as Wonwoo steps closer, the intensity of his stare igniting your body on fire as the warmth of him envelops you.

“Whether it’s having you as my assistant or to just simply bask in your presence,” he begins, his voice lowering. “The thought of not seeing you even for a day makes me want to go crazy.”

Your back presses against the door as he leans in closer, one arm perched above you as he looms over you. Your breath is caught in your throat at the close proximity of him, the scent of his cologne filling your senses and clouding your judgment as he levels his face with yours.

“You’re all I think about, you’re all I dream about,” he continues, gaze softening as he presses closer to you. “You have infiltrated every part of my being since the moment you first walked into my office.”

A shaky breath escapes you as your heart soars at his words, and your hands ache to reach out and hold his face.

“Wonwoo…” You catch the flash of desire in his eyes as you mutter his name. “There is so much at stake for me if we pursue this. I could lose my job –”

“I will take care of you,” he cuts you off, matter-of-factly. “I know that’s probably not what you want to hear but if it comes down to it, I will take care of the damage I’ve caused if it means I get to keep you in my life.”

Your gaze softens at his words.

You knew the stakes, you knew what was going to happen the moment you and Wonwoo solidified crossing the lines – you knew that your position as his assistant was over. Everything you achieved in the last two years had been for him, had been because of him. Wonwoo was your biggest supporter, whether he voiced it or not, and you hadn’t realized until recently that your admiration for his hard work and brilliant business mind had morphed into admiration for him – Jeon Wonwoo. Not the CEO you had worked for day in and day out. It was for the man who encouraged you to speak up in meetings despite your lack of status, the man who would go out of his way to bring you lunch, flowers, or gifts when he knew you were having a bad day. It was for the man who stood before you pouring his heart out despite the repercussions.

With shaky hands you’re reaching out to cup his face, your thumbs gently stroking his defined jaw as you peer up at him.

“I have grown to care for you, Jeon Wonwoo,” you murmur, and Wonwoo lets out a shaky breath as he presses flush against you, trapping you between his body and your front door. “In a way that assistant’s probably shouldn’t care for their bosses.”

A half-hearted laugh escapes him at that, his eyes twinkling in amusement, and you can’t help but to grin up at him. He’s still looming over you with one arm pressed against the doorframe, his other wrapping around your waist before he’s tilting his head down to yours. Warm lips encase themselves around yours and you can feel your heart beating against your ribcage as he kisses you slowly, passion pouring through him. You can feel your breath escape your lungs as you kiss him back, completely relishing in the taste and feel of him pressed against you as he kisses you earnestly.

Drawing back slightly, there’s a fleeting moment between the two of you as you stare into each other’s eyes, a silent acceptance of the lines between you becoming nonexistent, and it’s nothing short of a relief as you’re both pulled by an invisible force back to one another.

Your hands move to entangle themselves in his raven locks, fingers tugging at the roots as your lips fuse together in a frenzy. Wonwoo groans against your mouth as his arms move to wrap around your waist, his body flush against yours as your lips lock in fervor. As he tilts his head to the side, his tongue dips out from his lips to run along the seam of yours, which part almost instantly in response. A deep rumble reverberates from his chest as his tongue traces every nook and cranny of your mouth, almost as if he was memorizing every detail. Wonwoo’s hands move from your waist down to the hem of your sleep shirt before he’s teasingly gripping the hem of it and drawing back from your mouth.

Teeth graze over the skin of your neck as Wonwoo presses you back into the door, nimble fingers sliding underneath the hem of your shirt as he latches onto the pulse point on your neck. Your lips part in a wanton moan as he sucks a mark into your skin, his warm hand encasing around your bare breast. Arching your back into his touch, you’re keening in pleasure as Wonwoo pinches the sensitive bud between his thumb and pointer finger, a smirk dancing across his lips at your response. He’s grazing his nose against your neck before clutching your hips.

“Wanna taste you,” he breathes out, his breath fanning against your skin. “Wanna devour you until your legs are shaking.”

You can barely keep your vision focused on him as you watch him sink to his knees, his sharp gaze piercing into yours as his hands glide from your waist to your thighs, his lips curling into a feline-like smirk as you whimper in anticipation. Sneaking them underneath the hem of your shirt, he’s tugging at your panties before pulling them down your legs and tossing them aside. You watch as your boss hitches one leg over his shoulder, his piercing gaze never leaving yours as he leans forward to run the tip of his tongue along your soaked folds.

A moan escapes your lips, your head tilting back and resting against the door, and your fingers tangle in his tresses as he hums appreciatively at your response. Blunt nails dig into the flesh of your thighs as Wonwoo completely sheaths his face between your legs, unabashedly licking at your cunt. Shameless moans are falling from your lips as Wonwoo licks without abandon, his nose pressing into your clit as he mouths and sucks at your core. Your nails are digging into his scalp, body arching off of the door as you relish in the feel of his tongue. Your body feels like it’s on fire as his hands glide underneath your shirt, warm hands encasing around your breasts before he’s squeezing them.

A deep growl resonates from him before his head is completely disappearing underneath your shirt, his mouth flush with your cunt as he grips your beasts, a harsh suck to your clit as he shakes his head from side to side, tongue gliding along your folds in a way that has you crying out into your apartment, his name falling like a mantra from your lips as your hands claw at his clothed back.

“Wonu, oh, fuck…!”

There's a sly smirk dancing across his lips as you feel him tilt his head, the tip of his tongue circling your clit until he’s flattening it, sucking it harshly into his mouth as he hums against you. Heat pools in the pit of your stomach at his ministrations, your chest heaving with pleasure until he’s reaching behind you to grip the flesh of your ass and pulling your cunt flush to his mouth.The pressure of his tongue flicking against your clit is enough to have you unraveling against him, a cry of his name escaping you as your body does exactly what he wanted it to.

Your thighs clamped around his head as he brought you to your release, your nails clawing at his clothed back as you lurch forward in pleasure. He’s lazily lapping at your folds, licking the remnants of your essence up as you tremble in ecstasy. The soft kitten licks at your core have you whimpering from the overstimulation before you can make out the muffled groan from underneath your shirt as Wonwoo draws back, his face shining with remnants of your arousal as he licks his lips. His hair sticks up slightly from being trapped between your legs, the glasses that were perched on his nose completely fogged up, and the sight of your boss’s disheveled appearance is so erotic it gives you enough incentive to fist your hands through his hair before pulling him up to you.

You taste your arousal on his tongue as his lips meet yours, your hands fumbling with the buttons on his shirt before you’re undoing them and all but ripping the fabric off of him. A growl reverberates into your mouth as he grips your thighs and hauls you up, locking your legs around his waist.

“Where’s your room?” He asks, words muffled against your lips.

“Down the hall to the right.”

It’s a clash of tongues and teeth as he’s gripping you close to him, blindly navigating the two of you down the hall and kicking your bedroom door closed before he’s laying you on your bed. Your nails rake down the expanse of his broad back as he tugs your shirt up and over your head, throwing it carelessly as he revels in the sight of your naked body in front of him. His hungry gaze rakes along every bump and curve, his glasses slipping down his nose as he takes in the sight.

His tongue pokes out to wet his lips before he’s leaning down to hover over your body.

“You’re fucking exquisite,” he breathes out, greedy hands plucking at your nipples as he sucks a mark into your chest. “Better than any dream I’ve ever had.”

Your breath hitches at his words, another pool of arousal flooding between your thighs as you arch into his touch.

“You’ve dreamt of me?” You ask breathlessly, and Wonwoo lifts his head from your chest to give you a look full of desire.

“Sweetheart, I’ve dreamt of you every night since the day you’ve stepped into my office.”

You mewl as his lips enclose around your pert nipple, his teeth clamping around the bud as he tugs harshly before encasing his mouth around the mound, your body arching off the bed as you cry out in pleasure. Wonwoo smirks against your breast, his hand kneading the other before he’s switching to enclose his mouth around the other. Gripping onto his broad shoulders, you’re rolling your hips against his clothed cock.

“Tell me,” you whimper, reaching a hand in between your bodies to pluck the button on his slacks. “Tell me about everything you’ve dreamt of.”

Wonwoo growls against your skin as you undo his slacks, his teeth gritting when he feels you slide your hand into his briefs and grab onto his growing cock. Grabbing onto your wrists, he’s pinning them above your head as he hovers over your body, a menacing look in his eyes.

“You want to know everything, sweetheart?” He asks, the term of endearment dripping from him like velvet and you mewl as you wriggle in his grasp. “You want me to tell you about how I've spent countless nights envisioning you underneath me, taking my cock every which way until there were tears streaming down your face?”

A shameless moan wracks from you as his hold on your wrists tightens, his eyes darkening in desire as he rolls his hips into yours.

“You want to know about all the thoughts I’ve had of you tied to my bedpost, red silk on your wrists and your body all mine to use?”

Wonwoo growls as his free hand slithers down your body, his fingers dipping to your cunt as he coats them in your arousal.

“Or about how I want to mark every single inch of you to show anyone who even dares to breathe in your direction that you’re mine.”

You mewl, your body writhing underneath him as you try to gain any kind of friction between you that you could. Smirking at your attempts, Wonwoo teasingly runs his digits along your folds, before he’s pushing two past them, not stopping until they’re buried to the knuckle. Your hips grind into his touch as his name falls from your lips, your hands trembling underneath his hold as he scissors the two digits against your velvety walls.

A coo falls from him as he relishes in the sight of your pleasure-filled expression, his lips twisting into a feline-like smirk as he slips a third finger inside, his thumb pressing against your clit as he flicks his wrist, the digits delving deeper inside of you as he thumbs against your sensitive bud.

“But the thought I’ve had that’s haunted me since day one,” the smirk never falters from his face as he peers down at you with desire. “Is the thought of you soaking every inch of my bed as I make you cum over and over again. And, while, this isn’t my bed – it’ll do for now.”

Your mouth opens in a soundless scream, your back arching off the bed as Wonwoo slips a fourth finger inside of you, the heel of his palm pressing against your clit before he’s pressing down onto the bundle of nerves. Pleasure shoots up your body as you claw at the one that was pinning yours to the bed, nails digging into the back of his hand as he curls the digits inside of you. They’re brushing against a spot that has your thighs clenching around his wrist, a sadistic grin dancing across your boss’s lips as he watches you writhe under his ministrations.

“Wonwoo, please,” you beg, sobbing with pleasure. “Please – oh fuck, let me cum, please.”

Your voice is broken, muddled into cries of desire as he palms your clit, and he’s leaning down to lick a stripe down the valley of your breasts. His eyes are completely locked on your pleasure ridden face as he litters marks along your body, teeth sinking into any visible part of your flesh he can reach.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he coos, smirking deviously. “Give it to me.”

The heel of his palm is ruthless against your clit and your body is folding in half as your thighs clamped around his wrist, a shriek of his name reverberating off of the walls as his fingers curl against the spot that sends your body into overdrive. There’s a tightening in your lower body that sends a flash of heat through you, your eyes clamping shut as you cum – hard.

Wonwoo growls at the sight before him, his desire filled eyes taking in the sight of your arousal dripping down your thighs and soaking your sheets, and he’s speeding up his ministrations on your clit. His sharp gaze is locked on your pulsating cunt while your body reels into overstimulation, cries of pleasure ripping from your throat as your cunt leaks shamelessly. Your back is completely arched off of the bed, fluids leaking from your core, and you’re almost crying out of relief when Wonwoo slips his fingers out of you and loosens his grip on your hands – only for you to grip his hair when he latches his mouth onto your overstimulated cunt.

He’s licking with no abandon, lewdly slurping every last drop of your release as you sob with pleasure. His arms are tucked underneath your thighs as he pulls you until you’re completely sheathed against his mouth. The overstimulation has you writhing against him, and you’re mustering up enough strength to push his head away as you let your body come down from the intense release.

Wonwoo chuckles as he watches you sink into the sheets, cooing at you as exhaustion washes over your pleasure ridden body. Soft kisses are littered along the inners of your thighs, and Wonwoo peers up at you through his eyelashes as you tiredly lift your head from the bed.

“You’re doing so good,” he praised, softly nipping at the flesh of your thigh. “My good girl.”

Despite the intense orgasm you had just experienced, your cunt pulsates with desire at his praise. Biting the inside of your lip, you’re whining softly as you tug at his hair, ushering him up to you. Wonwoo lets a wild grin grace his lips as he allows you to pull him up, his lips slotting against yours lazily as he cages you between his body and the bed. Shaky hands make their way down the expanse of his chest and Wonwoo gasps against your lips when you tug his slacks down, a foot sliding between his legs so that you can push them off of him.

“Sweetheart,” he mumbles, trying to break away from your lips only to have you grab the back of his head to keep him still. “What are you doing?”

A mischievous glint is in your eyes as you shoot Wonwoo a filthy smirk, your hands clutching at his biceps before you’re mustering enough strength to roll the two of you over and pinning him to the bed. Your lips trail from his down to his jaw, teeth grazing over the sharp definition as your hips settle over his. Your hands are trapping his wrists and pressing them into the mattress as you trail your tongue over his neck. Wonwoo growls underneath you, his sharp eyes glaring at you through the thick rims of his glasses.

“I can’t be the only one having fun,” you coo, teasingly against his skin.

Wonwoo grits his teeth as yours graze over his skin, a hiss falling from him when he feels you suck a mark into the juncture between his neck and shoulder.

“Don’t worry about me,” he bites out, wrists breaking free from your weakened hold. You ‘tsk’ at him, breaking away from his neck to frown.

“It’s my job to take care of you,” you affirm, shooting him a pointed look, and you can only bite back a smirk when Wonwoo’s lips curl into a snarl. “Let me take care of you, Mr. Jeon.”

A near pornographic groan escapes your boss’s lips at your words and you can’t help but to grin with satisfaction, your lips trailing from his neck to the expanse of his chest. You keen with satisfaction as Wonwoo’s fingers tangle in the tresses of your hair while you litter marks down his chest, peering up at him through your eyelashes as you reach the hem of his briefs. A salacious smirk paints your lips as you tug at them, discarding the garment without care as your tongue trails along the patch of hair leading to his bulging cock.

Your gaze never breaks from his as you situate yourself between his toned thighs, your hand wrapping around him as your lips part to lick at the beads of precum dripping from his tip. The grip he has on your hair tightens as you coat his head with it, a soft hum escaping you before you’re descending onto his cock. Wonwoo tenses, the sharp tug on your tresses making you whine against his cock, and he groans in ecstasy as your tongue lolls around him. He’s gathering your hair into a makeshift ponytail as he struggles to keep his eyes open to peer down at you, completely mesmerized by the sight of you in between his legs. Inhaling through your nose, you suck in a breath of air before taking him in until his tip brushes the back of your throat, your hand reaching to cup his balls.

“(Y/N)...”

Wonwoo’s growl only encourages you further as you slide completely off of him, a smirk on your lips before you descend once more until he’s sheathed back into the warm cavern of your mouth. He’s tugging harshly at your tresses, hips pistoning off of the bed, as he shamelessly thrusts into your mouth. The grip you hold on his balls tightens gently, making expletives fall from the man as you swallow around him. The deep timbre of his voice combined with the harshness of his thrusts and tugs on your hair has your core dripping with anticipation, your body screaming for him to be inside of every part of you.

Wonwoo’s eyes are hooded, gaze full of desire, and he’s watching you bob your head on his cock, swallowing around his girth and knowing that if he let you keep going he wasn’t going to last much longer. So with your hair in his hands, he’s tugging you off of him with a snarl, his grip moving to latch onto your hips as he all but throws you on your back. Your eyes widened at the sudden change of position but then you’re keening in delight as the tip of his cock prods at your dripping cunt, your hands reaching up to claw at his broad back.

“I’m not cumming until I’ve felt your cunt around me first.”

The bite of his words sends another wave of heat flowing through you, your body completely lighting on fire as he guides himself to push past your folds, your lips parting in pleasure as your cunt swallows the thick girth of him. Your nails are clawing at his broad shoulders as Wonwoo’s teeth grit together, his nose brushing against yours as he slides in until he’s completely sheathed to the hilt.

“God, take me,” you moan, wantonly – shamelessly. “Make me yours.”

A cocky smirk dances across your boss’s lips as he draws his hips back, sharp eyes drinking in your naked form as he coos at the sight.

“You want to be mine, sweetheart?” He asks, teasingly. His lips ghost over yours as he moves to grip your wrists in his hands, effectively pinning them above your head. “You think you deserve it?”

A defiant look crosses your features as you peered up at him, a deep frown on your lips as you dig your nails into his skin in retaliation.

“I’m the only one who deserves it.”

Wonwoo’s gaze bores into yours, his lips curling into a feline-like smirk before his hips slam into yours, your back arching at the contact and your nails digging into his wrists as he all but hammers into you.

“Wonwoo – oh, fuck – !”

He’s mouthing hotly at your bouncing breasts before his teeth clamp around your nipple, tweaking the bud with his tongue as his hips pistoned into yours. Cries of his name fall from your lips as he thrusts relentlessly, sharp eyes peeking over the mounds of your breasts as your body stays arched in pleasure. He’s relishing in the sight, a smirk of satisfaction playing at his lips as he licks his way up your neck, lips hotly pressing into yours as his tongue delves into your mouth.

“You’re mine,” he growls against your lips, teeth biting onto the flesh as he tugs. “Mine.”

He briefly lets go of your wrists only so that he can grip your thigh with one hand, the other keeping your hands pinned above your head. He’s positioning your leg over his shoulder, his body descending onto yours as he rolls his hips, a groan escaping him as your cunt clenches deliciously around him. Your eyes are squeezed shut, completely lost in the intense pleasure of him as he grips onto your calf. Blunt nails dig into your skin as he speeds up once more, teeth gritting with pleasure as he sucks a mark into the sensitive spot on your neck. Your hips rise from the bed as you try to match his movements, a cry of his name falling from you when the head of his cock brushes against a spot that has you seeing stars.

“Right there!” You cry, clenching mercilessly around him. “God, Wonwoo, don’t stop!”

His grip on your leg loosens as he reaches down to press the pad of his thumb against your clit, a sinister smirk painted on his lips as he looks down at you.

“How’s it feel, sweetheart?” He asks, hips speeding up as he thumbs harshly at the sensitive bud. “Knowing that I’m all yours? That I’m only yours.”

You’re writhing beneath him, thrashing under his body in pleasure as his ministrations on your clit grow more erratic. Your vision is blurred with tears of ecstasy, Wonwoo’s name falling from your lips like a broken mantra, and you can only grip his hand as the heat in the pit of your stomach grows with every thrust.

“S- so good,” you stuttered out, completely lost in the feeling of him. “You’re mine, baby. Only mine.”

The term of endearment earns you a growl of approval, Wonwoo prying your lips apart with his mouth as his tongue licks along yours.

“Yeah?” His voice is deep, the timbre laced with husk as he licks into your mouth. “My cock is all yours, isn’t it, sweetheart?”

You keen at his words, a whine falling from your lips as your thighs quiver with pleasure.

“All mine,” you affirm, moaning. Wonwoo smirks against your mouth, his teeth sinking into your bottom lip as he thumbs at your clit with vigor.

“And this is all for me, isn’t it?” His question is spoken into your mouth, tongue sweeping over yours as his hips slam into yours.

“Only you, baby,” you whine, lifting your hips to meet his thrusts. “I’m yours.”

Wonwoo growls at that, his lips curling into a feline-like smirk as he lets go of your hands – only to grab you by the throat as he lifts you up until your chest is pressed flush against his. Your lips part in surprise at the change of position, one arm wrapped around his broad shoulders as the other fists through his locks, your cunt clenching around him as the new angle drives him to be completely sheathed inside of you as he sits back on his legs to hold you up.

“Damn right, you’re mine.”

Wonwoo’s words are muffled against your lips, the man looking down at you with a fierce glint as his thumb presses to your throat, effectively cutting off the air to your lungs and making your breath hitch. You clutch desperately at his tresses, your nails clawing at the skin of his back as he drills his cock inside of you, his free hand reaching back in between your bodies to rub your sensitive clit as he urges you to cum.

Your lips are parted in a silent cry, the stimulation between his thumb and his cock driving you closer and closer to the edge as your thighs clench around his hips, your back arching in a way that has your chest pressing into his, and the lack of air in your lungs has your head reeling in ecstasy as your high washes over you in a violent wave. You’re trembling beneath his ministrations, your cunt clenching deliciously around Wonwoo’s length as he coos at you, his thumb releasing off of your throat as you gasp.

“Mm, my good girl,” he praises, hands clutching your hips. “Where do you want me?”

The relentless drills of his hips against yours has you fighting to catch your breath as you struggle to answer him. Wonwoo’s rhythm grows erratic as he nears closer, your body arching into his movements as you clutch his shoulders in order to stay upright.

“My – my mouth,” you manage to breathe out, making Wonwoo smirk in anticipation.

You almost regret answering him when you feel him pulling out of you, the brisk air hitting your now empty cunt as Wonwoo settles you on your knees. His hand encases around your head as he pushes past your parted lips, groaning when his cock hits your tongue. You mewl around him, jaw slack and eyes locked on his as your tongue laps lazily at his leaking tip, swallowing every last drop of his release. His fingers tangle in your hair as he thrusts harshly into your mouth, the head of his cock brushing against the back of your throat as he cums. A hum of delight escapes you as you lewdly lap up the remnants of his release, your name falling from his lips as he tilts his head back in ecstasy.

His glasses slid off the bridge of his nose from the beads of sweat that had collected there and landed carelessly next to you on the bed, his sharp eyes softening into a look that was nothing short of adoration. His fingers release their grip on your tresses as his hands cup your face, his cock sliding out of your mouth as he lifts you to slot his lips against yours.

Humming against your mouth, Wonwoo’s thumbs graze your cheeks as he draws back to look into your eyes.

“You did so well for me, sweetheart,” he murmurs, nuzzling his nose against yours. “Such a good girl for me.”

Your heart swells in your chest as you relish in his touch, your body completely spent from the intensity you had just experienced, and your eyes hood over in exhaustion as Wonwoo gingerly lays you back against the pillows. The warmth of his body envelops yours as he holds you close to him. A half-hearted smile paints itself on your lips as you reach up to trace the outline of his lips, a hint of sadness ghosting over your expression.

“You realize this means I can’t work for you anymore, right?”

Your soft murmur makes Wonwoo frown, and you almost whimper with hurt at the crestfallen look on his face.

“I know,” he answers quietly, offering you a small smile. “But that doesn’t mean I’m losing you.”

Wonwoo turns his head to meet your softening expression, his gaze boring into yours as he clutches you to him.

“I meant what I said earlier,” he continues, nuzzling his nose against yours. “I will take care of you, (Y/N). I will fix any damage I’ve done to your career, to your reputation – just as long as I get to keep you in my life… If you even want me after all of this.”

“How could I not want you?” You asked, quietly. “You are everything and more to me, Wonwoo. It just took me a couple years to realize it.”

Wonwoo chuckles at that before leaning down to place a chaste kiss to your lips.

“Even if I cost you your job?”

You purse your lips at that, pretending to think before looking up at him in amusement.

“I can think of some ways you could make it up to me,” you teased, making Wonwoo growl playfully. “Starting with a bath – hey!”

Wordlessly you’re being lifted in his arms, a shriek of surprise escaping you as Wonwoo tosses you over his shoulder, effortlessly carrying you into your adjoining bathroom.

“That can be arranged.”

[15 new messages]

From: Soonyoung Hey honey! Just a heads up… Wonwoo asked for your address. Don’t know why or what for but I gave it to him so expect a visit from him soon… ... But I’m gonna assume it’s for what I think it is… … so you’re welcome ;)

From: Joshua Soonyoung just told me Wonwoo is going to your house USE PROTECTION!!! I'M NOT READY TO BE AN UNCLE ;_;

From: Gyu Wonwoo is missing He left the office hours ago and hasn’t come back (Y/N)???? Hello???? This is a serious matter!!!! Where are you??!?!?!?? Are you seriously going to ignore me? Just because you called out sick doesn’t mean you can ignore ~me~ your friend!!!!

To: Gyu She’s busy

From: Gyu I – OH??? MY GOD???????? IT’S ABOUT FUCKING TIME YOU TWO!!!! Also – ew Don’t ever send me a picture like that ever again

Epilogue

“How are the reports looking, Mrs. Jeon?”

Lifting your head from the pile of papers lining the table, your gaze falls on your boss as he walks inside the conference room, a warm smile on his face. Offering him an encouraging one back, you gesture towards the pile in front of you as you lean back against your chair.

“Everything we’ve discussed is in order and ready to go for the presentation.”

Your boss grins, dimples indenting in his cheeks.

“I knew I could count on you.”

The conference room door opens behind your boss, your eyes darting to the tall stature who was now leaning casually against the doorframe, arms crossed over his broad chest as his sharp gaze falls on you.

“Hello, sweetheart.”

No matter how many times he calls you that or how much time passes by with you waking up to him every morning, your husband’s voice never fails to send an array of butterflies abuzz in your stomach. You can’t help but to let a salacious smile grace your lips as you bat your eyes at Wonwoo.

“Mr. Jeon,” you greet, flirtily. “Looking mighty handsome as always.”

Wonwoo clears his throat, his eyes narrowing into a playful glare as he gestures towards your boss.

“You’re lucky Seungcheol is here,” he tuts, shaking his head. “Otherwise I’d have you over this desk –”

“Hey, hey!” Seungcheol cuts off your husband, waving an accusing finger at him. “No flirting with my assistant during work hours!”

Wonwoo holds his hands up in defense as he backs up from Seungcheol, a wide grin on his lips as he bows apologetically.

“Sorry, sorry,” he chuckles. “I’ll behave.”

His words promise good behavior, but the smirk on his lips and the mischievous glint in his eyes say another as he sits across from you at the table, his heated gaze never leaving yours. From beside him, the younger man who had taken a seat next to him had a grin on his face as he peered over at his boss, eyes looking back and forth between you and Wonwoo.

“It’s good to see you, Mrs. Jeon,” he greets, making you beam at him.

“It’s good to see you too, Chan,” you grinned. “I hope my husband hasn’t been running you ragged like he had done with me.”

Chan laughs softly, eyes twinkling with humor as he shakes his head.

“Nothing I’m not already used to.”

It had been two years since you had left Wonwoo’s office and became Seungcheol’s assistant.

In hindsight, Joshua had been right about how casual and common it was for a CEO to have some kind of relation with their assistant.

Despite your acceptance of the notion that you could lose your job for pursuing a relationship that exceeded company policy, HR hadn’t batted an eye when you and Wonwoo had confronted them. They simply brushed it off, insisting that it wasn’t uncommon for such a thing to happen between two people who were constantly in such close quarters with one another. And though you would have loved to continue working with your boss - now husband - it was in your best judgment to resign as his assistant and to look elsewhere.

You loved the job, you really did. But continuing to work for the man who you slept next to every night didn’t sit right with you – especially when you knew how fussy other co-workers were when it came to workplace relationships. So rather than wanting to deal with whispers of gossip behind your back, you had taken Seungcheol’s offer in becoming his assistant instead – much to your husband’s dismay.

“If you so much as even look at her in any way that’s not professional or business-like, I’ll ruin your career faster than you can blink.”

Seungcheol gulps, nodding furiously to the taller man who was currently holding him by the collar.

“Noted.”

Seungcheol claps his hands together, breaking your intense eye contact with your husband as you reluctantly look towards your boss.

“Alright,” he beams, looking at the occupants at the table. “Let's get this ball rolling.”

You have always prided yourself on your stellar work ethic. You always paid attention during meetings, took notes when it was needed, and made mental notes of things that could be bookmarked and used for later projects. But that sufficient work ethic always flew right out the window when it involved the man sitting across from you.

You’re peering at your husband from the corner of your eye, biting back a laugh as you smirk slightly. Adjusting your posture, you’re leaning back against the chair while you stretch your legs out underneath the table, discarding one of your heels as you let your foot graze against Wonwoo’s calf. You press your lips together in a line to fight back a grin, stifling a giggle at the desire that was now pooling in the darkened eyes of your husband as he subtly reaches down to grab your leg.

“Stop it,” he mouths, making you feign a look of innocence.

“I’m not doing anything,” you mouthed back, making Wonwoo’s sharp eyes narrow into a glare.

He’s trapping your leg between his toned thighs, a move which he almost instantly regretted as you flexed your foot to press against the hardening bulge in his slacks, the CEO sucking in a breath as he all but clutches your ankle in retaliation. Blunt nails dig into your skin as he sends you a look of warning only to grit his teeth in annoyance as you peered away from him with a smile, keeping your focus on Seungcheol as he spoke.

Wonwoo’s heated gaze stays locked on you throughout the meeting, sharp eyes glaring from behind his thick rimmed glasses as he shifts uncomfortably for the next hour. And once Seungcheol had declared a brief break, he’s pushing your leg away from him and stomping out of the conference room. Chan’s eyes widened in alarm at his boss’s abrupt exit, the assistant beginning to stand before you’re holding your hand up, halting him from following after your husband.

“I’ve got him, Chan,” you reassured the man, smiling brightly. “You know he gets in those moods sometimes.”

Not waiting for a reply, you’re stifling a laugh as you walk out of the room, gaze scanning over the office before you’re heading towards the elevator. But before you can even make it halfway, you’re being pulled into a doorway, your back pressed up against a wall as Wonwoo glares down at you, his body towering over yours.

An amused glint is in your eyes as you grinned up at your husband.

“You really pulled me into a supply closet?” You asked, and Wonwoo reached to grab your chin, tilting your face up to look at him.

“You have a lot of nerve, sweetheart,” he hissed. “Getting me hard while I’m trying to focus on the meeting.”

You feign a look of innocence as you reach for his belt buckle, pulling him in until he’s pressed flush against you.

“Don’t pretend you didn’t like it,” you drawl, flirtily. Wonwoo smirks as he drops his hands from your face, opting to grip your thighs instead as he lifts you up and presses you back into the wall.

“Such a naughty girl,” he tsk’s, rolling his hips into yours as you tighten your legs around him.

“You love it,” you tease, nipping playfully at his bottom lip. Wonwoo’s gaze softens momentarily, his face lighting up as he adoringly stares at you.

“I love you,” he corrects.

Leaning forward he’s connecting your lips, kissing you slowly as he pours his emotions into it — into you. You hum against his mouth, your hands reaching up to run through his hair as you kiss him back. His tongue slips between the seam of your lips before meeting yours, his nails digging into the flesh of your thighs as he licks into your mouth.

“We have to get back,” you murmur, making Wonwoo groan, your husband squeezing your ass playfully as he rocks against you.

“I’ll come up with an excuse,” he mutters and you chuckle against his mouth before pulling away.

“This is an important meeting, baby,” you retort, making Wonwoo — big bad CEO, Jeon Wonwoo — form the most adorable pout as he looks down at you with an expression akin to a kicked puppy.

“But I only want to be around you.”

Giggling quietly, you reach up to cup his face as you kiss him softly, nuzzling your nose against his.

“If you can make it through the next two hours, I’ll fuck you in the back of the limo on the way home.”

Wonwoo laughs at your words, his head tilting back happily before he kisses you with a smile.

“First off, it’s going to be me fucking you,” he points out, letting you place your feet back down on the floor. “Which I was planning on doing after the meeting anyways.”

You grin at him, laughing happily as you readjust your clothing.

“Great minds think alike, I guess,” you jest, and Wonwoo mirrors your grin as he leads you out of the supply closet.

With an arm wrapped around your shoulders, he’s leaning down to press a kiss against your temple, lips brushing your ear.

“I love you, sweetheart,” he murmurs, making your heart soar in happiness as you beamed in delight.

“I love you too, Wonwoo.”

#seventeen smut #wonwoo smut #seventeen scenarios #wonwoo scenarios #jeon wonwoo smut #wonwoo x reader

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biggest-gaudiest-patronuses · 2 years

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my favorite halloween story has little to do with halloween but: once at a college costume party i met a post-grad student who grew up by the coast and came from a family of avid amateur (semi-professional? her mom regularly won tournament prize money) fishermen (fisherpeople?), with the result that she (the post-grad student) had grown up regularly eating fresh seafood multiple nights a week, that was the basic family meal, and when she got to college (hundreds of miles inland) suddenly fresh seafood was very hard to find (on a college student's budget) and she was so frustrated that in junior year (after she moved into a sorority house and had enough space) she concocted a plan to purchase her own aquarium specifically in order to farm/breed her own fresh seafood, and i'm assuming she was so gung-ho that she didn't do her research bc no sooner had she purchased an enormous aquarium off of [craigslist i'm assuming] than she discovered that local pet (aquarium? fish supply) stores either (1.) did not sell species of fish she was interested in eating, (2.) did sell fish she was interested in eating but they were tiny/would take too long to grow to a size worth eating, or (3.) sold fish-she-would-want-to-eat of a size-she-would-eat but at a price that made them more expensive than just going to the fish section of the local grocery store (((did she think they would be cheaper? and if so why buy an aquarium at all why not just buy and quickly consume the fish???))), or (4.) a combo nation of the 3.

But ANYWAY by this point she has already purchased the aquarium, so she goes ahead and buys some tiny fish of a species she was interested in consuming (i want to say guppies. i know they weren't guppies it was another species entirely, probably several different species, but in my headspace that detail has been overwritten with the label "[guppies]" so guppies it is). anyway the guppies don't look particularly delicious but she's observing them pretty often (multiple times a day) in order to track their growth, and soon she's regularly jotting down notes and calculating their caloric intake and predicted weight increase and she's tweaking the aquarium settings to facilitate growth and--basically she becomes an aquarium person. you know, those people who have an aquarium and are heavily mentally focused on the having and maintaining of said aquarium (often in a supposedly leisurely but also completely serious and sedately obsessive manner).

so she gets really into it, and is encouraged by her sorority sisters (who are having fun naming and making up back stories for all the different fishies), and yes i guess she also grows attached to the fish (but this isn't the story of a bunch of fish not getting eaten, ok, she doesn't eat those fish, those fish are no longer for eating, but she still eats plenty of fish whenever she gets the chance, at restaurants and at her parents' house i assume, fish are still being eaten, she does not end up a reformed former fish-eater). oh, and then she goes on to write her senior thesis (? or class thesis or. some final project paper thing) on the fish (or on her aquarium ecosystem? something to do with aquariums), and she decorates her graduation cardboard hat thing with a little finding nemo plushie sewn on.

*GASPS FOR BREATH* (no no wait. ***GULPS LIKE A GUPPY*** hah!) anyway this all happened several years before i even met this woman whose name i don't remember at a college halloween party, but the reason i know this backstory is we had both had too much halloween punch and i asked her "so what are you studying" and she started telling me about how she was in the final year of getting her PhD in Marine Conservation

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yourlocalbreadenthusiast · 29 days

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ask for infodump about Chernobyl as someone who has never even heard of it

INHALES

Chernobyl is considered to be the worst nuclear disaster in history, rated at a 7 on the International Nuclear Event Scale (INES), the only other disaster ranking at a 7 being in Fukushima back in 2011. The disaster occurred on April 26, 1986. The Chernobyl Nuclear Power plant was located in Ukraine, which was under the control of the Soviet Union at the time. It was only about 16 miles from the Belarus-Ukraine border, which was also under Soviet control. There were two main towns nearby, Chernobyl itself, which was older, had only about 15,000 residents, and was actually farther from the Chernobyl Nuclear Power Plant than Pripyat, which had about 50,000 residents, and was only about 2 miles from the plant. Pripyat was newer, and residents had an average age of about 26. The town itself was filled with young, well educated people starting new lives. A large number of public buildings were located in Pripyat, including a school and a sports complex, which contains the famous Azure Swimming Pool. The plant supplied Pripyat with energy, and the place was considered a sort of "dream city." The plant was an RBMK-1000 type reactor, a generation I nuclear reactor, which are the earliest, and generally most hazardous, nuclear reactors. RBMKs were used to produce Plutonium, a radioactive material primarily used in nuclear weapons. However, they could also be used to produce civilian energy, so a few were constructed to supply parts of the USSR with power. At the time of the incident, there were four reactors in operation, with reactors 5 and 6 under construction. A test was scheduled to be conducted to see if the backup generators could successfully turn on in time to keep the cooling systems running at safe levels. However, the test was delayed until the less experienced night shift was in. They turned off the reactor's shutdown feature and lowered the power to the reactor. Reactors need energy to function, as they have to be cooled. For these reactors, large amounts of water were used to cool them. Without the shutdown function, the reactor was in danger of overheating if it wasn't cooled. Regardless, they ran the test. When the backup generators took too long to turn on, panic set in, and the reactor began to overheat. Then, somehow hit the AZ-5 button, which lowers all control rods into the reactor at once. Control rods are used to absorb excess amounts of shed neutrons from the nuclear reactions. However, they momentarily increase reactions when first introduced into the reactor chambers. The undertrained staff of the night shift were not aware of this. With the increased reactivity, the reactor was now dangerously hot, and the casinging around the fuel rods began to rupture, causing white-hot radioactive fuel to come into direct contact with steam. At 1:23 A.M., April 26, 1986, Chernobyl Nuclear Reactor #4 exploded. The contact between the fuel and the steam caused a steam explosion, blowing the 1000 tonne reactor roof into the air and spewing radioactive debris and particles into the air.

Two plant workers were killed instantly by either the force of the blast or from being hit by debris. Although plant workers realized what had happened rather quickly, superiors were slow to act. Firefighters were called in, but they were not told the dangers of the radiation. Most died within a few months. But that was only the tip of the iceberg. In Pripyat, the Amusement Park that had been scheduled to open the next day was hurriedly opened a day early to distract residents from the fact that the reactor was on fire.

It took 36 hours for Soviet Officials to finally begin to evacuate Pripyat, only after residents had begun to report nausea, dizziness, fatigue, vomiting, and headaches, all symptoms of radiation poisoning. A few weeks earlier, citizens were trained with gas masks in case there ever was an incident. Officials said that they didn’t need them, as they didn’t want to cause a panic.

Residents were also told they would be returning soon, and to leave everything behind. They did not come back. This left Pripyat as an eerie ghost down where everything seemed to have simply been dropped and left. Today, it is still abandoned, and is being slowly reclaimed by nature.

During the cleanup of the incident, “Liquidators” were called in. Some knew the dangers, others didn’t. The fire of the reactor was too hot to be put out by water, so tons and tons or boron, sand, and lead were dumped onto the burning reactor by helicopters that flew over. It didn’t help much, and the reactor finally stopped burning after about 2-3 weeks. A structure dubbed “The sarcophagus” was built over the reactor to contain the radiation, though it was rushed and leaked radiation. A large area of woodlands was contaminated by the radiation, and it turned red and died, earning the nickname “The Red Forest.” Most of these trees were cleared and buried. Highly contaminated houses were knocked down, animals were shot, and crops destroyed. Absolutely everything that was highly contaminated was at least attempted to be destroyed and buried. Still, not everything could be destroyed and buried, there was simply too much. One object, dubbed “The Claw of Death” was, according to conflicting accounts, either used to assist in the overall cleanup or was used specifically in the cleanup of the plant roof. It is radioactive enough to give a lethal dose if sat in for about 11 hours.

Another rather infamous object is “The Elephant’s Foot” which is a mass of sand, concrete, and melted reactor fuel that had melted its way through the floor and down into the basement. Upon discovery, the sheer amount of radiation it gave off was enough to give you a fatal dose within about 90 seconds. Today, that’s increased to about five minutes. The foot was unyielding to sampling tools, so, they shot it with a Kalashnikov Rifle (AK-47) to get a sample.

After a very short period of time, the remaining three reactors were up and running again, as the USSR simply needed power desperately. By December of 1987, all three reactors were up and running again. They were operated for years, until the last reactor was finally shut down for good in 2000. Being so close to the border, and with the wind conditions of the time, mass amount of radioactive particles were blown north to Belarus. The Soviet Union had planes fly over and seed the clouds with chemicals, forcing them to rain on rural land instead of heavily populated areas, but this still had a major effect, as about 1/3 of Belarusian farmland was contaminated. However, the winds began to shift, blowing radiation towards Europe. Sweden was the first to sound the alarm, asking if something had happened after detecting dangerous amounts of airborne radiation and determining it was not from any of their own reactors. The USSR finally admitted there had been a “very small” incident at Chernobyl, and was very reluctant to give the world information. Careful monitoring protocols were put on resources everywhere in Europe, from grain to milk to wood, all were carefully measured for radiation. Years later, after the Sarcophagus was determined to be unsafe, the New Safe Confinement unit was constructed, which is a semicircular dome over the existing Sarcophagus. The New Safe Confinement was finished in 2018.

DONE!

(For now)

@not-wizard-council-aristocrat @anarcho-neptunism @siley-the-wizard @villainessbian

#chernobyl #pripyat #radiation #infodump #hyperfixation #special interest #rant

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eddies-house · 8 months

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Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5 | Ch. 6 | Ch. 7 | Ch. 8 | Ch. 9 | Ch. 10 | Ch. 11 | Ch. 12 | Ch. 13 |

Smoke Signals

Chapter One - Damn Mailbox

W/C: 5K

Eddie x Fem reader - Grumpy!Bartender!Eddie x Shy!Reader

Relocating to the small town of Knife’s Edge in hopes of leaving your old life behind and starting brand new solves all of your problems, right? Wrong. It only creates more and one of them may live right next door. Side effects may include blaring music at 3AM, a scowling neighbor, and one too many shots of tequila on several occasions. (That The Bourbon will not be comping.)

A/N: I'm super excited to start this lil series, I've had this idea for a little while and I can never resist writing total opposites, it's just so fun to explore their dynamic when they want to reject each other so bad. Also a lot of this fic is inspired by Smoke Signals by Phoebe Bridgers (hence the name). As always I would love your feedback and any comments y’all have 🙂 OH and finally...the hugest largest biggest thank you to @uglypastels for beta reading and proof reading and all that good stuff, it was SO appreciated and really helped smooth things out ILY Z YOU'RE SO GOOD AT WHAT YOU DO 💜

Masterlist

Morning dew was like an old friend, someone you hadn’t paid attention to since childhood but felt so familiar with, so…safe. Maybe it was a little too ridiculous to find security in a few dew drops but arriving in a new town with a population of less than five hundred would have that effect. Twists and turns of windy roads unknown, trees larger than any house, and barely any infrastructure would all frazzle anyone not accustomed to its elements. Normally you wouldn’t get car sick but these roads were a beast you’d never encountered before in your life, stomach threatening to send back your lunch of tuna on white bread and a bag of Doritos. You refused to let bile even trace your tongue so with just enough self control, you swallowed any sickness down and pushed forward. Now you were hunched over in the driver’s seat, the door open as you sucked in the fresh mountain air, perfect lengthy blades of grass grazing the bottom of the door. Just before you, up the driveway made up of damp dirt, was home. A home you were a stranger to at the moment but hoped to at least become acquaintances with. Lower expectations created less disappointment. If you dive in head first, you can only guarantee yourself vulnerability and pain, slow and steady was the only pace.

It’s not permanent; you are just figuring things out.

It’s what you kept preaching to yourself during the altitude change, where flatter land transformed into large mountains, the tallest peaks coated in white. Where your ears popped and your brain felt pressure. And then shortly after, you were submerged deep into the forests, far from home, where you knew there was no going back for quite some time. It was a trial run although it didn’t feel that way when the moving truck packed with your life pulled up just minutes after you, delivering every piece of your life to some cabin in a secluded town that was nearly invisible on any map. Temporary was starting to feel foreign when everything felt more set in stone.

You’d think a town called ‘Knife’s Edge’ would steer you away and maybe that was the intent when it was first named; to ward off newcomers who had no business being out in the woods. But it only intrigued you. From what you could find out in a few tourism magazines, Knife’s Edge was not somewhere you went for a getaway, not according to the locals who were a tight knit community where everyone knew everyone. The economy relied on the small businesses down in The Village, on Main Street which according to your calculations was about five miles down the road and around the lake then up. That was the extent of knowledge you’d had on your new home and yes, maybe you should have gathered more information before daring to even place a down payment on some random cabin in the woods but when a new start calls, you either answer the phone or stare at it until nothing happens. The cabin was either yours if you paid the down payment or it would’ve been torn down and sold to the neighbor for more land which would’ve sent you on your way again, on a wild goose chase for a new place that you could fit into. Not that you were too sure that you’d even fit in here. But it seemed too obvious that this was where you were meant to be when the realtor advised that it was yours at a low down payment, a steal. So you’d try to make it work.

The moving truck’s door startled you, slamming against the top as two men got to work, unloading all your belongings. You figured this was your cue to exit your beat-up sedan to unlock the front door–wide-paneled and made of a beautiful dark oak. The crunch of pebbles and dirt alerted the movers to your presence where you let them know you were going to open up so they could begin their tedious process, one of them grumbling something incoherent in response. As you approached even closer, there were knicks and dents decorating the surface of the door but it seemed to add to the essence. The wooden steps creaked underneath your weight and upon glancing around the porch, you found two well built rocking chairs that the previous owner must have left behind. Other than that, there were pine needles and other debris from the surrounding nature caked in the corners, some scattered along the rest of the floor that would need to be swept up but it wasn’t an urgent task in comparison to actually setting up your bed and other necessities.

The lock was stubborn as you twisted the key but with one more persistent shove and turn, it clicked and you were able to push your way in, the hinges painfully squeaking as you made a mental note to pick up some WD40. The air inside was stale, smelling of dust and maybe a half hearted spritz of air freshener. Or maybe it was drenched in air freshener but it did little to nothing to cover up the smell of an old abandoned cabin; you weren’t sure. It was a modest size, the kitchen off to the right, tucked into the corner with a small island in the center. The living room was the first room you walked into from the front, the floorplan more open than you’d expected. A little to the left was a narrow hallway with shutter doors lining both sides, you assumed one side had to be the laundry. The door at the end had to be the bedroom and the door just before you embark into the hall had to be the bathroom but you had no time to explore right now.

Morning light trickled in through the kitchen window just above the stove, creating a beautiful hue against the wood paneling of the walls which you only noticed as you came back in, setting a box that was labeled ‘kitchen’ on the counter before rushing back out to retrieve more of your belongings. It was too early to be doing such strenuous work but that's what you get for securing a slot with the moving company first thing in the morning. In hindsight, you didn’t realize you were signing yourself up to meet said moving truck at 6:00 AM but in your defense, you’d never done this before.

By 7:00 AM the truck was fully unloaded and on its way out and with it went the grumpy movers, more than likely unsatisfied with the fact that they’d have to trek back down the mountain. You graciously offered them an extra twenty bucks which they gladly took but still appeared crabby nonetheless. Now for the part you had been dreading the most: unpacking each box and putting everything in its respective place. But first, you wanted to take it all in. You were right; the laundry was on the left side of the hall behind the shutter door and on the other side was a closet. The bedroom was settled right where you had guessed, at the end of the hall and rather than being empty, it now held your bed and mattress, sheets still yet to be found among the boxes labeled ‘bedroom’ in thick sharpie. The wallpaper was something you could do without but maybe you’d find time to peel it off later and replace it with something more to your taste. Currently the bedroom walls were lined with floral designs and pale blue stripes and if you could be honest, the design was a bit too busy for your liking. But it was a roof over your head for a good price so complaining was out of the equation.

At the opposite end of the hall, just off the living room was the bathroom, sporting a less off putting wallpaper of faded yellow and white vertical stripes. You first ensured your hygiene essentials were in place, toothbrush and toothpaste in a glass on the sink, towels on the rack, and soaps set up in the shower including shampoo, conditioner, and bar of Dove. Having these accessible was a priority, cleanliness being one of the most important factors of your daily routine.

Clothes were next and you’d forgotten a box in your trunk of your most worn items of clothing that you could pick through until you were fully settled. Lazily carrying yourself back to the driveway where your maroon sedan sat on top of the copper-toned dirt, you do a double take when you realize your mailbox was taken out, wood splintering out of the ground as the poor box lays among the grass at the edge of the street. From what you could remember, it was fully intact when you first drove up so you’re forced to conclude that the movers you’d tipped generously must have run it over and not given it a second thought.

The half of the mailbox that rested on the ground was a lot heavier than it looked and you would’ve thought it was made of cement just by the weight. You felt pathetic dragging it up the driveway, creating a prominent line in the dirt along the way. A brief break in getting the damn thing up to your porch has you about half way up the driveway, glancing around at your surroundings, only to finally take into account that you had a neighbor relatively close by, a cabin similar to yours only a few hundred yards away except it was a darker wood and a red pickup sat idle in front of it.

You braced yourself, catching your breath to continue hauling the mailbox back until you can figure out how to repair it when your eyes catch on figure, a man making his way down the steps of the cabin you’d just been analyzing. And you’re quick to shy away until you realize he’d already been looking at you, a cocky grin on his face as he slowly, almost tauntingly stepped off his porch. The way he walked closer reminded you of a lion declaring its territory, especially with the mane of curls he had, shaggy and brunette. He wasn’t close enough to allow you to examine any further; however, you caught the click of his tongue before he spoke.

“Gonna get splinters draggin’ wood around like that.”

It’s all he says, a toothpick between his teeth before he turns on his heel, combat boot digging into the soil and it’s only then that you realize he wasn’t offering assistance, he was simply picking up the hose connected to his spigot to rinse off his windshield which now that he’d drawn attention to it, was filthy with mud and leaves. He wore a red and black flannel which reminded you of a lumberjack but this man just didn’t fit that description based on your short interaction with him. Or rather his interaction with you. Your first indication was that he had no facial hair; he was clean-shaven. And his tight jeans that had black rips at the knees didn’t seem very suitable for a job that required a larger range of motion.

Without any further acknowledgement of your existence, he hopped in his truck and sped off around the bend without a care in the world. He was a resident douchebag and you’d never even spoken a word to him. You quickly realized you were still stood in the middle of the driveway with half a mailbox, grunting in protest as you lugged it the rest of the way up to the porch, leaning it against the railing for future contemplation on how to repair it or if you’d have to fork up money for a brand new one. That was a problem for future you and though future you would be pissed at past you for putting the responsibility on her, you had other things to sort out such as unpacking the rest of the kitchen so you’d be able to actually use it to feed yourself. And then of course you’d have to make your way into town a ways down the road to actually get groceries because not a crumb of anything edible was packed. Aside from a bag of Chex Mix that sat in the passenger seat of your car that you’d picked up at a gas station.

–

Going overboard was an understatement when it came to how much you’d actually gotten done. By 12:00 PM you almost had each room unpacked and put away, moving boxes discarded next to the front door to be thrown out later. Your plan was to finish off the kitchen and then go into town. Instead you finished the kitchen and moved from room to room with more motivation than you’d ever experienced in your life. Maybe it was the adrenaline of living alone, no one else could tell you what to do or where to put things. It was all up to you and maybe you were a little drunk off that power. Regardless, you were now worn out and that energy didn’t last very long. At least you had a freshly made bed for when you came back, that’s what you would reward yourself with.

If you go grocery shopping then you can come back and nap.

There were still various projects to be done, items to be organized, and objects without a home but for the most part, you could sleep peacefully with the work you’d done today. The floors were yet to be cleaned and the fridge still needed a good scrub down but that could wait until tonight after you properly refueled.

Humming to some song you’d heard on the radio earlier, you make your way out the door, patting your pockets for your keys and wallet, both of which you had before locking up and heading for the car. You rolled your eyes passing the mutilated mailbox, settling into the driver’s seat with an ache in your back from the grueling labor in the early hours of the morning. Shifting into drive and then rapidly back to park, you remember that these roads are foreign to you and that you could easily get lost and possibly become a bear’s lunch with your luck. With a tug, the glove box opens and reveals the map you had set in it before embarking on our journey. The map that was mailed to you of the town didn’t seem very complicated. But if you happened to make a wrong turn it could land you amongst some rocky cliffs which you thought better to stay away from. So you carefully examined the route to town, what the people here seemed to call The Village Square. You took the liberty of drawing your house on the map, a cute little doodle in blue gel pen and then proceeding to draw the rest of the route in the same blue so you’d always have it.

This was it. A fresh start where no one knew your name. This would be good for you. At least that's what you kept trying to convince yourself.

Goodbye someone else’s daughter and hello new self-made woman.

–

You weren’t lost. You were just…exploring.

Okay, you were a little lost but the signs for The Village Square kept passing you by and yet you found yourself also passing the same exact pine trees–and you knew they were the same pine trees because every time you saw them you thought ‘hey that kinda looks like a dog’. At some point it started to feel as if you were spawning in and out of some dimension until you finally turned into a lot directly behind one of the signs, sick of this game of hide and seek. There were no signs for parking which is why you’d passed by so many times in the first place, and now it seemed like you were behind a restaurant of some kind. This couldn’t be where everyone parked, right? Anxiety was pooling in your stomach and before you could sike yourself out, you ultimately decided to park and walk from here. You would only be a few minutes and hopefully you’d be able to muster up the courage to ask someone where to park from now on, even if it did make you seem like an idiot.

Leaves crunched under your sneakers, an obvious indication of the Fall season trickling one leaf at a time. As if you were a wary animal, you cautiously walked around the building, finding that it was someplace called The Bourbon; the letters written out in neon red lights that weren’t yet illuminated, the open sign in the window dull signifying they were closed. You let your eyes roam up and down the street, small businesses lined up all the way through and a few patrons, clearly with an agenda making their way along the sidewalks. It was a cute place, nestled in a little valley. Instead of plain old cement the sidewalks were cobblestone and overall it seemed to be a pedestrian oriented community with several cross walks and barely any traffic.

From here you had no idea how to get to Marvin’s Grocery, which seemed to be one of the only produce stores around according to your map. The others were a little more out of the way, your house conveniently only around five miles away from The Village Square. The shops you passed as you attempted to gain a sense of direction were exquisite. Mom-and-pop shops that either smelled of delicious baked goods or hunger-inducing aromas that filled your nostrils with savory goodness. The smell would haunt you in the best way for days to come. A candle shop piqued your interest, as well as a flower shop that bloomed so beautifully among the muted tones of the brick buildings around it.

Everything was so unlike what you were used to, back home things were more commercialized, built for quantity not quality. Here it seemed to be the polar opposite which you could appreciate. Corporations were the root of all evil and you had yet to see one single corporation among the several businesses you passed so far. People seemed friendly but also confused by your presence, offering you a meaningful wave accompanied by a puzzled expression written on every face you encountered. You were a stranger and it was becoming more apparent the deeper you found yourself in the square. Some people whispered and you happened to snag onto a few words, mostly grasping ‘is she new?’. In return, you graced them with a polite smile. It wasn’t like you to initiate small talk or approach new friendships. If they happened, they happened per the other party’s account, not yours, never one to try and stand out in the crowd only making this infinitely more uncomfortable for you, which was no one’s fault other than your own insecurity.

Eventually you were able to come face to face with the giant ‘Marvin’s Grocery’ sign which looked to be handpainted in big white letters outlined in black with a few cartoony carrots, a tomato, and a head of lettuce. Wandering around for an extra ten minutes and refusing to ask for help certainly wasn’t ideal but it did familiarize you with the shops you would soon be buying from on the regular. And it did give you a soft introduction to the small population of Knife’s Edge which despite the name, the people seemed lovely enough.

The store wasn’t the slightest bit crowded and it wasn’t very large either. A mother and her two kids skimmed one of the aisles while an older man pondered over the produce, apples specifically. Grabbing a cart, you begin gathering the items you had sorted out on a list in your head. First bananas, grapes, and blueberries, you didn’t want to bother with too much produce as it went bad fast and you were only one person so those would do for now. Then you moved on to pantry essentials, canned goods that you could stock up on and always have on hand. Green beans, corn, peas, baked beans, even soups such as tomato, cream of mushroom, and the standard chicken noodle.

You’d built up a cart full in no time, and by then, no one else was around so you noted that this time would be perfect to get your shopping done in the future so as to avoid as many people as possible. The cashier was a woman, probably in her early sixties who seemed not all that intimidating which you were grateful for. She smiles warmly and you appreciate the sentiment, grinning back at her as you place each item at the register.

“You’re new. But I bet you’ve already had an earful of that, haven’t you?” She lightly teases.

You laugh softly, avoiding eye contact while still trying to remain well mannered, taking notice in small glances that the woman’s name tag reads Donnie in bold red letters as well as the ‘help wanted’ sign perched up against the window. She seems friendly, a little rough around the edges though in the sense that she had several tattoos that disappeared into the rolled up sleeve of her blue crewneck sweater as well as a fire in her icy blue eyes. You could already guess that she was quite the character.

“Don’t let them scare you off.” Donnie carefully bags the eggs with a few more light items, her confidence radiating, as if she doesn’t even need to try, as if it just comes to her so naturally. Something you could only wish for every once in a blue moon. “We don’t get many newbies. They’ll get it outta their system.” Her voice is a tad scratchy but smooth otherwise, bringing a strange sense of comfort.

“Thank you.” A mouse may as well have been louder than you but you tried and that’s what counts, right? New people were not your thing but they would have to become your thing, moving to a place where no one knew you existed and all. Or maybe you could fly under the radar? It couldn’t hurt to become the mysterious outsider that spoke to no one although it wasn’t a very realistic ambition.

This was fucked. You thought to yourself in the solitude of your brain. Of course the second thoughts were coming now and not before you bought the damn property that tied you to this place. Initially, the idea was a temporary situation far from home but the deeper you delved into this town, the more permanent it started to feel. Not just anyone up and moved here and that was clear by the reaction you pulled from several onlookers. And yet you moved here, bought that damn cabin with the money left to you from your father’s estate, and ultimately, left everything you knew in a manic state. A mid life crisis in your early twenties.

“Miss, your change.” The woman broke through your thoughts and you must have shifted into autopilot, not even remembering handing her any money in the first place.

“S-sorry.” You mutter, collecting the filthy coins in your palm, shoving them into the front pocket of your jeans which you knew would be a pain to dig out later but again, that was an issue for future you. She hated your guts.

“No prob–”

It was abrupt, your exit but despite your rude departure, she called out “I’m Donnie!” and you never felt like a shittier person. She was welcoming you to her home and you didn’t even have the decency to introduce yourself. That’s how it looked at least, on the inside you were panicking and needed to isolate yourself immediately.

You must have looked like a maniac carrying your groceries in a near sprint toward the direction of your car. Everyone else seemed to move at such a mellow pace, not a single vein close to popping out of stress whereas you looked like you’d crumble under the slightest inconvenience. Which you would if you didn’t get to the car fast enough. A small misstep causing you to trip? No chance, you wouldn’t show your face again for weeks. Your groceries spilling all over the pavement because of said possible misstep? You would consider moving all over again.

Thankfully the majority of the walk back to the little lot behind one of many businesses was blacked out, your heart practically pumping in your ear the whole time. What you couldn’t black out from was the man-the same man from this morning smoking a cigarette as he stared at your car. Fear drenched you; you couldn’t gauge his expression with his back to you but you could guess he wasn’t going to be smiling with the way he was lingering, shuffling his boots back and forth in contemplation.

Announcing yourself felt like the most daunting task in the world, humiliation melting into your skin like an uncomfortable burn. Maybe some higher power heard your pathetic struggle because the crunch of your sneaker on a perfectly placed leaf called his attention to you, his head snapping in your direction instantly.

The urge to just run was strong but you maintained whatever cool was left within you, fingers waving at him weakly.

His expression was blank, unreadable. He didn’t say a word as you slowly inched your way closer to the vehicle, only eyeing your every movement like a predator protecting his territory, much like he did that same morning. The closer view of his face showcased his stoic yet soft features, eyes almost puppy dog-like but something glazed over them, a facade of some kind. Something that overtook the puppy dog nature they were capable of and replaced them with a cruel glare. The shape of his nose was endearing at least, rounded at the tip and tinted pink from the cold.

“You just park anywhere you want where you’re from?” He asks, gesturing vaguely with a tip of his cigarette toward the car.

Your shaky breath has him furrowing his brows at you, seemingly offended. It’s not in your nature to offend people but you can’t seem to stop doing it, especially today whether you mean to or not. But you definitely don’t think you mean to.

“N-no, ‘m sorry.”

“Sorry?” He mocks, scoffing before inhaling a puff of smoke once more.

“I-I uh, I’m leaving. It won’t happen again.” You rush out, all the while forcing yourself not to cry. “I just–I couldn’t find parking–I was driving around and—there was no–I couldn’t–”

“Don’t let it happen again.” He warns, stern but easing up on his intense demeanor.

“Promise.” You whisper, a tear betraying you and rolling down your cheek to which you quickly gather your grocery bags in one hand to swat away at your cheek. It’s too late, he already saw.

No empathy is detected in his stare, not that you feel you deserve any. It was just an observation. “Now, get out of my lot.” It’s a demand, a non-negotiable demand that if you were brave enough to argue, would probably have him towing your shitty little sedan.

So you nod, blinking back the water works as best you could while tossing your groceries into the passenger seat, him watching the whole time. With your seatbelt suddenly feeling like the most complicated thing in the world, you expect to look up and meet pure rage but instead your ears perk up at a few knocks on the window. Rolling it down as fast as possible with the manual handle, the man stands towering over you, cigarette abandoned sometime in between you getting in the car and struggling to remember how a seatbelt works. Did he have more choice words for you for illegally parking on what he deemed ‘his lot’? You really didn’t want to stick around to find out but you had no choice.

“Left on Main. Then right on Cherry.” His dark eyes hinted at hues of warm honey but they were briskly dismissed by his cold attitude.

“What?”

“Next time. So you don’t turn into my damn lot again.”

You still didn’t know what he meant by ‘his lot’ and you didn’t have the backbone to ask. You did however fully get the message that you were to never park here again and were now aware of which streets to search for to avoid it at all costs. You’d memorize every detail of it if it meant you could steer clear of the apathetic man before you. With a nervous nod, you were off, not once looking back just as he did that morning except he had more grit in his actions, you just came off as a scared church mouse. You never even caught his name and you didn’t mind not knowing it at this rate seeing as he was all bite and bark for no good reason.

This place never felt so far from home. Nowhere was home. Your heart was in a sense homeless, lost and longing for the connections that these people had with each other that you couldn’t seem to tap into even if your life depended on it. In all fairness, it had only been a few hours and you couldn’t gauge your success based on that but it was tugging on your brain like a parasite, eating away at your final optimistic thoughts.

I don’t belong here.

I don’t fit in.

The drive ‘home’ was flooded with tears and muffled sobs into your now sticky sleeve, coated in snot and if anyone were to pass you along the way you would look psychotic with how your face scrunched up at every exhale, doing your best to keep yourself quiet despite being the only one in the car. You were always doing your best. Always to please others. And it never worked.

~end~

Masterlist

tags - @gravedigginbbydoll @ohauggieo @spicysix @lunatictardis @ali-r3n @batkin028 @mrsjellymunson @witchwolflea @emma77645

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fic #eddie x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x fem reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson angst #bartender!eddie #eddie munson au #bartender!eddie munson #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction

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roseghoul26 · 2 months

Text

Part 2

Arthur Morgan x f!Reader

"'Do you love me?' You asked, voice barely louder than a whisper.

Arthur nodded, gazing at you like you hung the moon and the stars.

'Then say it. I promise you, nothing bad is gonna come from it.'"

Synopsis: A retelling of the mission "Blessed are the Peacemakers", where instead of Arthur getting kiddnapped, it's you.

Tags: fluff, friends to lovers, eventual smut, smut, torture, mentions of sexual assault, no actual SA, dutch is father figure, so is hosea, arthur morgan deserves everything, fem reader, afab!reader, she/her pronouns used for reader, not beta read

Author's Note: this was meant to be a short one shot lmao i got so carried away with this

part 1 ❉ part 2 ❉ part 3 ❉ part 4

For what felt like the millionth time over the past few days, Arthur glanced beside him, expecting to see you riding beside him, the sunlight illuminating your face in a way that took his breath away. And, for the millionth time, it was still only Charles, who had joined him on his search for you over the past days.

After you failed to show at the designated meeting spot after the negotiations, he had to practically be dragged to camp by the other men. “She’ll be fine,” Dutch had said. “You know how she gets sometimes. She’s probably out helping some stranger on the side of the road. She’ll be back before you know it.”

Deep down, he knew something was wrong, but he still allowed himself to be led back, keeping an eye out for you or your horse. After waiting in camp for an hour or two, he decided enough was enough, speeding out before anyone could stop him. He knew you could handle yourself, but something about the whole situation felt wrong. You were never gone for this long without letting him or someone else in camp know.

It only took a few minutes of fast riding before he returned to the meeting spot, climbing the hill to where you had perched. With a keen eye, he scanned over the area, nothing standing out to him except a small splatter of mysterious liquid a few feet away, barely visible in the dirt.

Stepping closer, his suspicion was correct, causing bile to creep up his throat.

It was blood. More specifically, your blood, something he never wanted to see.

Crouching down, he took in the surrounding area. A path cut through the dusty ground, like something was dragged through it, before stopping at a set of hoofprints, receding down the hill with another set in tow, like the other horse was being led.

All Arthur could hear was his heartbeat anxiously pounding as he remounted, taking off down the hill, following the barely visible tracks as best he could. He managed to follow about a mile, nearly reaching Valentine, before other hoofprints intertwined with the track he was following, making it impossible to continue following.

“Shit,” Arthur cursed, scrubbing his face with his hand as he figured out what to do. If you had been kidnapped, which was apparent, then someone had to have seen something in town. You’d have been slung over the rump of the horse, which he figured someone might remember if they saw.

It was about two hours later when he left town, having gotten a lead from some of the residents about someone carrying someone through town, heading southwest toward Strawberry. The sun had long since set, and as he rode back to Clemens Point, he was lost in his thoughts.

He had to finally admit to himself that the things he felt for you went beyond a normal friendship. Friends don’t wonder what it would be like to hold you in the night. Friends don’t wonder how your lips would feel, how your hands would feel, how your body would feel. Friends sure as hell don’t lie awake at night fantasizing about you, then be too embarrassed to meet your eye in the morning.

Your compassion towards him throughout the years was something he cherished, the way your face lit up when you saw him, or the way you held him when he confided in you about his troubles. Every moment with you filled something in his chest that he didn’t realize was empty.

He hasn’t felt something like this toward anyone since Mary, but this felt different. This felt genuine, natural, like it was always meant to happen, born from years of trust. He had felt it for some time, but fear of ruining something great stopped him from saying anything. If his relationship with you crashed and burned the same way it did with Mary, his heart wouldn’t be able to take it.

He vowed to himself that he would tell you everything once you were safely back home.

“Who goes there?” He heard Charles shout out, barely registering he was back at camp.

“Just me,” Arthur sighed, slowing down to a trot as Charles came up beside him.

“Find her?”

“She's been taken… O’Driscolls took her through Valentine, heading southwest.”

Having only heard Charles swear only a few times, it took him by surprise when he heard the man mutter a curse under his breath, escorting Arthur as he entered camp, still staying on his horse. A light pat on his leg caught him off guard. “Rest up. We’ll head out at sunrise.”

“I’m just grabbin’ a few thing. She ain’t… I ain’t got time to sleep…” he trailed off, fighting back a conveniently timed yawn. “I can handle this myself.”

“She’s my friend too, you know. Maybe not as close as you two, but I care about her. And don’t think you’d survive ambushing a camp of O’Driscolls by yourself,” Charles shook his head, turning and walking back to his guard post, keeping his eyes on Arthur. “I only got a half hour left on my shift. We’ll rest until sunrise and head out. Neither of us will be able to help her if we’re dead on our feet.”

After failing to move, he watched the hunter turn back around, his face calm despite his words. “Don’t make me pull you off that horse, Arthur.”

He couldn’t help rolling his eyes, dismounting before walking toward his tent, sitting down on his cot with his head in his hands, hat left on the nightstand next to him. “Hang on, princess,” he muttered, as if it was going to help anything, before trying his hardest to get any semblance of rest.

True to his word, Charles woke him at the crack of the rising sun, and he left a note for the others letting them know where he was going, just in case. That was roughly four days ago, nowhere close to finding you than before.

He just prayed he would get to you in time.

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

“Miss Grimshaw, I need help!” Dutch’s panicked voice jolted you to consciousness, your eyes squinting against the harsh sunlight, bringing your arm up to block against the intrusion, before realization settled in.

Dutch was talking.

You were home.

Instantly you were awake, bolting upright into a sitting position, scaring the hell out of said man, who you saw take a step back, before rushing to your side.

You could barely understand the words coming out of your mouth, your eyes finally clearing as you took in the leader of your group kneeled before you, relief etched across his face. “It’s Colm- Dutch, I-, he–” you were almost hyperventilating as your eyes darted around manically, your body and mind suddenly overwhelmed.

Two hands grabbed your face, focusing your attention on the man in front of you. “Breathe, my dear. Just. Breathe.”

Following his instructions, you took a deep breath in, and out, repeating the action until your heart rate slowed down a tick. Miss Grimshaw, at this time, was by your side now, asking you questions that you were too out of it to hear. “Dutch, it was Colm. I- It was a setup. He took me. But I got away.” You only noticed you were crying when Dutch wiped away the tears with a handkerchief, something almost fatherly in the action. “I got away.” You repeated, more to yourself than anything.

A rare, true smile graced Dutch as his hands moved from your face to your shoulders, being mindful of the obvious injury there. “Yeah, that you did. But you’re safe now.”

“He was gonna set the law on us, Dutch.”

“Of course he was.” Sighing, you felt Dutch’s grip on you let up as he stood. “But that’s not a problem for you to worry about right now. All you need to focus on is getting better, okay?”

Nodding, you went to try and stand, almost collapsing until you felt Miss Grimshaw on your right side sling your arm over her shoulders, allowing you to rest your weight on her. She led you to your cot, Dutch following behind with his arms out like you were a child learning to walk for the first time. Exhaustion made its presence known again, and you felt your head grow fuzzy, black spots dancing across your vision.

You were almost fully tucked into your cot before a new thought caused you to sit right back up, earning you a disapproving sigh from Miss Grimshaw. “Where’s Arthur?”

Dutch, who stood at the entrance of your tent, left, and you heard him shout to Javier. “Go track down Arthur. Tell him his girl’s home.”

Glancing over to Miss Grimshaw, you asked again. “Where’s Arthur?”

Cupping your hand in hers, she responded. “Him and Charles are out looking for you. Have been since you’ve been gone.”

“How long was I gone for?”

“About four days, dear. You gave us quite a fright.”

“And he’s… they’ve been out looking for me?”

She rolled her eyes, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Of course. People really care about you, you know. Arthur especially. But,” she pressed down on your good shoulder, making you lay down flat on the bed, “you need sleep. Javier’ll find him in no time. He’ll be here when you wake.”

Your hand in hers was the last thing you remember before sleep overcame you.

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

“Nothing here,” Charles shouted from a closeby building as Arthur investigated the small hut, long since abandoned, the rotting floorboards barely holding him as he searched.

Opening the final room and meeting only dust bunnies and brown rats, he holstered his gun, his increasing anxiety causing his heart to beat wildly. “Same here,” he shouted back, exiting the building with a huff, sitting down on the dilapidated staircase as Charles approached him.

He was getting desperate at this point. They had searched what felt like every abandoned campsite and building, no sign of you or O’Driscolls anywhere. Not allowing himself to go down a rabbit hole, he pulled out his map, spreading it across his lap so Charles could look as well. With his pencil, he crossed off their current location, another X added to the page.

Weariness was also starting to take a toll on him, not as alert as he was days prior, the same going for Charles, but neither of them would be able to stop until they’d found you. Muttering under his breath, he scanned the map for their next location, reaching for his revolver when he heard the sound of fast hoof beats approaching the two of them.

Glancing up, a familiar black and white horse whizzed past, skidding to a halt as the rider practically jumped off, running up to the startled duo.

Javier stood before them, hair in disarray, panting as heavily as his horse, who gladly took a break from a straight dash from camp. Arthur couldn’t read the man’s expression, and he stood up warily, the map falling somewhere in the dirt. There was only reason why Javier was here, a fact that Arthur and Charles seemed to understand at the same time, anxiously waiting for the man to speak.

“She’s home.”

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

A new hand held yours when you woke.

It was significantly larger than Miss Grimshaw’s, strong callouses adorning the fingers, yet despite that roughness it held your hand like it was the most precious thing in the world.

When it felt you begin to stir, it held on a little tighter, a sigh of relief coming from the owner. Groggily, you opened your eyes slightly, almost immediately wanting to close them as the sunlight streaming from the entrance of the tent nearly blinded you, and you tried rolling over, crying out in pain as you rolled on to your left shoulder, having completely forgotten about the wound there.

“Easy there, princess,” Arthur murmured, the low gravel of his voice music to your ears.

Moving slowly, you glanced over to your side, smiling gently at the rugged cowboy who held your hand. “Hello-” a coughing fit wracked your body, throat dry from dehydration. Within seconds Arthur was right at your side, using his free hand to prop you up, rubbing your back as you coughed.

After a few seconds the fit subsided. Groaning, you rubbed at your eyes, your hair falling around your face. Arthur’s hand moved from your back, and you nearly let out a noise of complaint until he presented you with a waterskin, which you gladly took and began to greedily gulp down.

The water, despite being a tad bit warm, felt amazing, some of it spilling from your mouth and onto your lap. As you drank, you heard him call out for Miss Grimshaw, loud enough to be heard, but not loud enough to startle you. Within seconds the tent flaps swished open, Miss Grimshaw standing with her hands on her hips as she looked you up and down, a small smile on her face. “Well, it’s about time you woke up.”

She pressed her hand against your face, feeling for any sort of fever. “How’re you feeling?”

Bringing down the water skin, which Arthur took away to stop you from making yourself sick from drinking too much. “I feel like I was hit by a train. Everything hurts.”

Removing her hand from your face, she quickly left the tent, returning moments later with a tonic in her hands, opening and offering it to you. “For the pain,” she simply said, gesturing for you to drink it.

It burned as it went down, the bitter concoction instigating another coughing fit, luckily shorter than the other. Arthur took the empty bottle from your hands, tossing it behind him somewhere in the tent as Miss Grimshaw sat in front of you on the cot, beginning to remove the bandage that now covered your left shoulder.

Glancing down, you noticed that someone had cleaned you, the grime from the O’Driscolls basement nowhere to be seen, replaced by a fresh nightgown and clear skin. Well, clear in the sense that there wasn’t a speck of dirt on you. Various cuts, bruises, and burns adorned your body, most of them having already scabbed and on the way to be completely healed. Only a few were bandaged up, the worst being the gunshot wound on your shoulder.

While you had taken in the state of your body, Miss Grimshaw had been able to fully remove the bandage from your shoulder, and you let out a wince as the air hit the wound. The wound, you saw, wasn’t infected, but it was irritated, glaring red as Miss Grimshaw applied a slave to it, tears pricking your eyes at the pain.

You felt Arthur begin to rub your hand soothingly, murmuring small praises as she redressed the injury. “You’re healing well. Won’t be too long until you're back on your feet,” Miss Grimshaw spoke, brushing her hands on her skirt as she stood. “Just make sure you’re getting lots of rest, drinking lots of water, and eating good food. That one right there will make sure you do,” she winked at Arthur, who looked away embarrassed. “I’ll let the others know you’re awake. Visitors, or no?” When you shook your head no, she nodded in understanding. Turning to leave, she paused right at the entrance, before glancing back over at you. “It’s good to see you awake, dear.”

Before you could get a chance to respond, she left, leaving you and Arthur alone, still holding each other's hands. You felt your hair, which still hung around your face, begin to move as Arthur tucked it behind your ear, smiling lightly as he finally was able to make eye contact with you. There was obvious relief in his eyes, but something vulnerable there as well. You noticed the dark circles beneath his eyes, and noticing the chair pulled up to the side of your bed, as well as some of his personal belongings sitting beside him, you were able to quickly piece together that Arthur had been at your side the entire time you slept.

An unfamiliar yet not unwelcome pang hit your heart as you took in the man beside you, the man who was unyieldingly devoted to you, and the man you were so helplessly in love with. In any other circumstance, you would have pushed those thoughts away, but now you let them wash over you, sweeping away all the ache in your bones. You felt yourself smiling brightly at the cowboy, the cuts on your face making their presence known as the skin moved, but you couldn’t care less. All that mattered right now was Arthur.

Glancing down at your entwined hands, you let out a content sigh, before bringing his knuckles up to your lips, giving them a quick kiss before letting it fall back to your lap. Your heart hammered fast in your chest as you opened your mouth, ready to spill your most closely guarded secret to the man beside you. “I’m-”

“I’m sorry,” Arthur said at the same time, his louder voice covering yours, the confession stuck between your lips as you sealed them back up, and you furrowed your brows, momentarily forgetting what you were about to do.

“I’m sorry.” Arthur went to stand up, his stoic mask back up, trying to disentangle your hand from his, but you held on as tight as you could, stopping him from pulling away completely. “I’ll… I’ll leave you be now. Said you didn’t want visitors.”

“You know damn well that doesn’t mean you, Arthur Morgan,” you nearly growled, your voice scratchy as you tried to pull him back down to his seat. When he didn’t budge, you sighed, tugging lightly at him. “Please stay,” you whispered, and you could see the war being fought in his head as he stood there, unmoving.

A minute passed before he relented, letting you drag him back down to his seat with what strength you had. He was looking at you, but he wasn’t making eye contact, instead taking in every injury on your body that you had obtained at the hands of the O’Driscolls, squeezing your hand tighter as his gaze settled on your shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” you heard him apologize for the third time, and you just shook your head at him.

“And I still don’t know what you’re apologizing for, mister. You weren’t the one to do this to me, right?”

“God, no,” he replied, visibly disgusted at the notion.

“Then you have nothing to be sorry for.”

Shaking his head, you saw him bring himself closer to you, the chair gliding through the pelt that lined the floor of your tent. “I knew it was a trap. If I hadn’t made you-”

You cut him off by pressing your finger to his lips, silencing him as his eyes widened in shock and disbelief. “We all knew it was a trap, Arthur. But the thought of having any sort of peace with the O’Driscolls made us turn a blind eye. And you didn’t make me do anything. I went of my own free will. And besides,” you removed your finger, failing to notice how his eyes had darkened slightly during the whole action. “If it wasn’t me who got taken, then it would’ve been you or the others. It was inevitable.”

“It shouldn’t’ve happened.”

You shrugged. “Maybe not. But it did. It’s done now. We gotta move on now.”

“Next time I’ll be doing overwatch.”

“Like hell you are,” you scoffed, some of the tension leaving the conversation. “I’m the better shot, anyway.”

Arthur raised his eyebrows, leaning back slightly in his chair away from you. You tried to not look disappointed. “Is that so?”

“Yup,” you nodded vehemently, smirking slightly. “Best shot in the camp, hands down.”

“Uh-huh. Wanna go prove that to me then?”

“I ain’t got nothing to prove to you, Arthur, and you know it,” you laughed.

“Nah, you’re right,” he conceded. “You’re incredible.”

The total honesty in his voice caught you off guard, and you felt a slight flush creep up your face, no doubt turning your cheeks dark. Glancing away, the two of you fell into an easy silence that only came with him, and he mindlessly stroked your hand.

A few moments had passed before you looked back up at him, a crease in his brow, deep in thought, barely even registering your movement as he hung his head low. Shaking his hand slightly, you were able to get him to look up at you, giving him an easy smile. “What’s on your mind, cowboy?”

Looking like a fish out of water with the way his mouth gaped, he rubbed the back of his neck, no longer looking you in the eye as he fumbled with the words he was trying to say. It was almost silly, seeing the deadly man before you, someone who could send a person running with only a glance, at a loss of words. “Why’re you nervous? It’s just me,” you reassured him.

Or at least you tried to reassure him, your words stressing him more than relaxing him. “How’d you…” be began, trailing off shortly thereafter.

“I’m a mind reader.”

“You ain’t a mind reader. If you was, then I wouldn’t have to sit here, stumbling over my words like an idiot trying to figure out how to tell you…” he trailed off again, sighing anxiously, his face almost beet red.

“You’re not an idiot,” you chided, moving to sit on the edge of the bed, your knees knocking against Arthur’s. You ignored the butterflies erupting in your stomach at the proximity, bringing your hand up to cup the side of his face to bring his gaze back to yours. You tried to move your hand away but he caught it, keeping it pressed against his cheek. “And, even if I could read your mind, I’d wanna hear it from your lips anyway.”

He pressed his forehead against yours, collecting his thoughts for a moment. “I’ve been… I’ve been real scared to tell you this, you know. Everytime I try, the words just don’t come out right, and I ain’t too keen on making a fool of myself in front of you. I just… I hope this don’t change things between us… I don’t think I’d be able to live without you by my side. And if you don’t feel the same… which I pray that you do… then we never have to talk about this again. We’ll just move on, like you said.”

He pressed a quick kiss to the inside of your wrist, his beard pleasantly tickling the sensitive skin. A little gasp left your lips, the cowboy chuckling in response. But he didn’t continue speaking, his own anxieties halting his words. You knew what he was going to say; it was on the tip of his tongue. He just needed a push.

“Do you love me?” You asked, voice barely louder than a whisper.

Arthur nodded, gazing at you like you hung the moon and the stars.

“Then say it. I promise you, nothing bad is gonna come from it.”

“How is that you make me feel so calm yet terrified?” Arthur sighed gently. “When you were taken… it made me realize how big a fool I really am for you. And I almost didn’t get to tell you… I was ready to tear down every O’Driscoll until you were back home. But you went and saved yourself, cause of course you did. I wasn’t kiddin’ when I said you was incredible. You’re back home now, so now I get to tell you I love you. I really, really do.”

He let out a shaky exhale, a visible weight being let off his shoulders. “I have for a while now… but I just kept pushing it away and denying it. After what happened the last time I bared my heart out for someone, I was scared of it happenin’ again. I knew you wouldn’t hurt me… but a part of me refused to let me feel this way. I’m… I’m not a good man. I’ve done bad things, I’ve hurt people. Maybe I don’t deserve you, but I’m selfish enough to want you anyway. If you want me too, then I will spend the rest of our time together proving that I am worthy enough to be by your side.”

“Oh, Arthur,” you felt tears beginning to well up after finally hearing the words you’ve been waiting for for some time. “You silly man. I love you, too.” Despite the tears, you were smiling brightly, a similar expression mirrored on Arthur. You felt giddy, laughter bubbling from your lips. “I love you so much, and there is nothing you could do that would change that. And you don’t have to prove anything to me. The man right here is all I need.”

Blue eyes looked down at your lips, the distance between the two of you was so close yet so far, lips merely inches from your own with your foreheads connected. You watched as Arthur wet his lips, looking back up into your eyes with a look of longing.

“May I kiss-'' your lips pressed against his before he could finish the question, silencing him the way you wish you could have earlier. The cowboy let out a surprised grunt, the momentum of your body pressing against his nearly sending him backwards, his hat sitting precariously on his head. It only took him a second to recover from the shock before his lips moved, plush but chapped yet perfect in every sense.

Using the hand still cupped to his face, you moved it behind, scratching your nails lightly up the back of his neck before tangling your fingers in the short hair, tugging slightly. A delicious whine left Arthur, mouth parting slightly against yours as the kiss deepened. You felt his hold on your hand leave, instead grabbing your hips and pulling you towards him so you were practically on his lap.

All you could think about was Arthur. He flooded every sense, every fiber of your being fully enraptured by the man. So enraptured, in fact, that you temporarily forgot the trauma that your body had just been subjected to, so when you tried to use your left arm to situate yourself better, a shock of pain overtook you, forcing you to break away from his lips with a pained groan.

Immediately, whatever love fueled haze had flooded the two of you dissipated, leaving a concerned Arthur holding you as pain tore through your body, before dissolving into an incessant ache. “Shit… sorry,” you were panting, out of breath for two incredibly different reasons.

“Nothing to apologize for. You alright?”

“Got a little eager,” you smiled a tad bit sheepishly. “I’ve been wanting to do that for a while.”

“So we’ve both been fools this entire time?” When you nodded, he laughed, partially in disbelief. “And only a little eager?” he jested, rubbing his scalp tenderly.

“Yeah… sorry.”

“And I said there was nothing to apologize for. Besides,” he brought his lips close to your ear, voice rumbling as he spoke. “I like it when it hurts a bit.” He sat up, pressing a kiss to your temple before doing so.

The implications were not lost on you, yet you still found yourself staring wide-eyed at him. Noticing your hesitation, he backpedaled slightly. “If that’s alright. I don’t wanna force ya… or make you uncomfortable…”

“I’d like that, very much. Just not now, though. I’m exhausted.”

“It’s alright. We don’t gotta to do anything until you’re ready.” With a gentle smile, he gave you a quick kiss, pulling away too quickly for your liking. When you pouted slightly, he chuckled and shook his head. “There’ll be plenty of time for that later. You, princess, need rest.” You sighed, and with Arthur’s help you situated yourself back on the cot, still sitting up as he fixed the pillows behind you.

“Will you lay with me?” You thought he was going to say no, but he instead started toeing off his boots, setting them beside the bed before sitting behind you. A firm arm wrapped around your front, pulling you down to lay atop of him, your head resting comfortably on his chest. He kissed the crown of your head, and you snuggled into the man. The smell of him, a mix of gunpowder, leather, and something woodsy, filled your nose, lulling you into a relaxed state.

“I love you,” you mumbled out, face partially buried into his shirt. Gentle fingers combed through your hair, a pleased sigh leaving you as your eyes fluttered close.

“I love you, too. Now, rest. You’ve got a long few weeks ahead of ya.”

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

The first day of your recovery was the worst. Not because of the aches in your body, but the fact that everyone in camp had decided to come see you sometime in the day. You were grateful, yes, but it was exhausting. As nice as it was, a part of you just wished all the attention on you would go away. One more sympathetic look and you were going to throttle someone.

Dutch came in first that morning (with your permission), two cups of coffee in his hands as he sauntered in. He looked a bit caught off guard when he saw Arthur sitting behind you, still partially asleep in your cot as you sat up in the bed. After the initial shock wore off, a large shit-eating grin took over his face.

Setting one of the cups on the nightstand, he roughly patted the cowboy on his shoulder, who practically yelped at the sudden aggressive contact. “Atta boy, Arthur!” his boisterous laugh shook the tent, and you couldn’t help but laugh at the expense of Arthur. “Took you long enough. Thought you’d never grow the balls to tell her.”

In a sudden change, his face took on a serious expression as he leaned down close to Arthur, talking quietly enough for only the other man to hear. Whatever he said must’ve scared Arthur, his face turning a few shades paler. But within moments laughter returned to the black haired man who now had his full attention on you, handing you a cup of coffee which you gratefully took. “It is good to see you up, dear. Nothing can keep you down can it?”

“Not so sure about nothing, but O’Driscolls sure as hell can’t.”

“No ma’am,” he chuckled, pulling up and sitting in the chair that Arthur was in last night. “And trust me when I say they’ll regret ever touching a single hair on you.”

You nodded, lightly sipping the hot beverage in your hands. “Just don’t do it without me.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Standing up, he gestured to the drink on the nightstand. “Help yourself to that Arthur. It was mine, but I wasn’t expecting you to have… company this morning. Now, get better quickly. Can’t have my best shot out of commision for too long.” With that, Dutch left your tent, Arthur giving a sigh of relief when he did.

Glancing over at Arthur with an I told you so look, you found him still paler than normal, shifting uncomfortably behind you. Snuggling up into his arms seemed to snap him out of partially, but you still saw his eyes flicking across the room, like he was expecting danger to pop out from anywhere. “What’d Dutch say?” you asked, Arthur’s arms wrapping around you as your face buried into his shoulder.

“I… nothing important, trust me,” he muttered, trying to brush over the question. Not taking that as an answer, you tilted your head to the side so you could look up at him, an unimpressed look on your face. Sighing, you felt his lips press a kiss to your forehead before he responded. “Let’s just say you got some… uh… guardians around camp.”

“Aw. That’s sweet.”

“Not so sweet when you’re the one getting threatened with gelding tongs,” you heard him mutter, and Arthur’s panicked look made a whole lot more sense now. You couldn’t help the giggles that erupted from you.

“Did- did Dutch threaten you, Arthur?” you barely managed to get out. His answering sigh was all you needed for confirmation, and you felt another fit of laughter overtake you. Arthur wasn’t long to stay upset, feeling his chest rumble with a light laugh.

“He’s always kept me in line. As best he could, anyway. But that’s enough about me. How’re you feeling, princess?” He sat beside you on the edge of the bed, wrapping an arm around you gingerly. Pulling you down, you felt him pull you towards him, giving you a kiss atop your head.

“I’m feeling like I’m gonna be sick of that question soon.”

You swore you could hear him roll his eyes. “Just answer the question.”

With an exaggerated huff, you turned so you were facing, his arm and hand now in your lap. You intertwined your fingers with his. “I’m okay. Just really sore.”

“And…” Arthur tapped lightly on your forehead. “How ‘bout there?”

“Surprisingly alright. I… I don’t really remember too much, to be honest.”

“Well, that’s good. But, if something changes, or you need… ‘dunno… someone to talk to, let me know. I ain’t the best with words… but I can listen pretty well.”

“Thank you, Arthur.” With a smile, you pressed your lips against his cheek, the slight prickle from his beard tickling you. He didn’t let you move back too far, however. A light hand cupped the back of your head, keeping you steady, but not strong enough to keep you from moving if you wished.

“And you said you was the best shot in camp. You missed.” Arthur had an almost cheeky smile on his face.

Scoffing in fake indignation, you kissed him, a satisfied hum leaving the cowboy as your lips made contact. His one hand still made contact with your head, the other wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer to him. Running your own through his soft hair, another satisfied noise left him, and you pulled back with a pleased smile. “There. Happy?”

“Very. Now c’mere…” he said with a playful growl, before peppering kisses across your face, neck, and shoulders, being mindful of your injuries. You found yourself giggling as he continued his attack, turning into a yelp when you felt him nip lightly at your jaw. Lightly swatting at his shoulder, he moved back, still holding you gently. “You make me so happy, don’t you ever think otherwise.” With a final brush of his lips against yours, you watched his eyes flick behind you where the entrance to your tent was. Turning around, you saw Hosea standing there, tonic in one hand, a book in the other.

Sitting back down at the edge of the bed, you gestured for the older man to come in, a soft look on his face as he sat in the chair in front of you. “So that’s why you weren’t at your tent, Arthur,” he commented, and the younger cowboy sheepishly looked away. “You’re looking better. At least, better than you did twelve hours ago. How’re you feeling?”

Fighting the urge to bash your head into the nearest hard surface, you gave him the same response you gave Arthur. With a nod, he handed you the tonic, the greenish bottle filled to the top with liquid. “For the pain. And,” he handed you the book, “For the boredom.”

It was a copy of A Cristmas Carol, a brand new one at that. You knew that Hosea was quite the reader, so it came as no surprise that he knew where the name of your horse came from. “I know it’s nowhere near Christmas time, but I hope it will bring you some comfort.”

“It will. I… Thank you, Hosea.”

“You’re very welcome, dear. Is there anything else you need?”

“I think… I think I’d like some food. Let me just…” with your feet planted on the ground, you tried to stand up, the idea of a fresh meal urging you to leave your bed. As soon as you were fully upright, however, the world began to spin. Two arms caught you before you made contact with the floor, Arthur having stood up when you did, and he eased you back down to the bed.

At this point, Hosea was on his feet too, his hands planted on his hips like a parent would when scolding their child. “You’re in no state to be moving. Me ‘n’ Arthur will get your food for you. Just stay here.” Patting your right shoulder affectionately, he beckoned Arthur with a nod, the two of them leaving your tent together after Arthur put his boots back on.

You calling out Arthur’s names stopped the cowboy in his tracks, a concerned look on his face as he turned to face you. “Please take some time for yourself. Change your clothes, take a bath, something like that.”

“You sayin’ I smell?”

“I’m sayin’ you smell like you haven’t been at camp for a few days. Now go.”

“Alright, princess,” Arthur laughed, a grin on his face as he left the tent.

For the first time since you’d been back, you were alone. The tent was eerily silent, the only noise your breathing and the rustling of sheets as you got back into bed, sitting up against the pillows. Grimacing, you downed the entire tonic bottle, the liquid bitter as ever. You set the empty glass on your nightstand, your throat already going numb from the ingredients.

Waiting for Hosea to return with food, you thought over the events of the last couple of days. Most of it was hazy, in your brain. The only things you remembered were flashes of pain and the voices of the O’Driscolls. Everything else was gone, just blank spaces in your memory. Rubbing your face with your hand, you winced slightly as you pressed down a little too hard at what you assumed was a bruise on your cheekbone. You realized you had yet to see your face, unaware of the damage done to it.

Sighing, you barely noticed that Hosea was back in the tent with you, a bowl of hot stew in his hands, the smell causing saliva to begin pooling in your mouth. Handing you the bowl, along with a fresh skin of water, the man returned to the chair next to you.

“Don’t get too lost in those thoughts of yours. It’ll be hard to get you back out.”

“It’s not like there’s many thoughts in there anyway. I hardly remember anything that happened. I can’t tell if that should be concerning or relieving.” You said through spoonfuls of food, the temperature of it burning your mouth.

“Did they do anything… untoward to you?” Hosea asked, hesitating slightly.

You shrugged. “If they did, I don’t remember. But I don’t think so, saying nothing hurts down there.”

The older gunslinger let out a small sigh, his body relaxing some in relief. “Well, we can take some assurance that they aren’t animals.” He fell silent, giving you a few moments to eat. “Don’t be too worried about your memories. It’s common for our minds to shut out events that happened to us. Whether you want them to come back, however, is up to debate. Some events aren’t worth remembering.”

He fell silent again, lost in thought as you took another bite of your food. You were getting full now, your stomach not used to having so much food in it. You sat the bowl, which still had about half its contents left, on your nightstand. At the clattering of the bowl, Hosea seemed to snap out of whatever headspace he was in, giving you a small smile as he took the bowl. “Thank you,” he said while standing up, and you gave him a confused look.

“Thank you for coming back to us. To the gang. Lord knows what would happen to us if we lost you. Don’t know what would happen to Arthur, either.” He laughed humorlessly while shaking his head. “We’re all proud of you. I’m proud of you. You’re tougher than most, that’s for sure.” With a final kind smile, he left, leaving you, and your tears, to your lonesome again. Sipping lightly from the waterskin he left you, a gentle warmth growing in your chest from Hosea’s words.

It seemed like the universe still didn’t want you to be alone, however, because before you could even collect yourself, a small body came barreling into your tent, a larger one following with an apologetic look on her face. “I’m so sorry,” Abigail began, trying to usher an eager Jack out of your space. “When he heard you was awake, he wanted to come see you, and I tried-”

“It’s all good, Abigail. I don’t mind the company.” You tried to brush away the remnants of your tears. Abigail didn’t see, or if she did, she didn’t make a comment about it. Either way, you were grateful.

An eager Jack stood beside your bed, a wide grin on his face. Stretching out his arms, he held in his fists a small bouquet of wildflowers, with various flower types that ranged from all sorts of different colors. Pressing a hand over your heart, you gratefully took the bouquet from Jack. “For me? Thank you, Jack. They’re beautiful. You wanna help me put them somewhere safe?”

When the boy nodded, you handed him the waterskin, and he held it like it was the most important thing in his life. Grabbing the empty tonic bottle from your nightstand, you held it in your lap. “Pour a small amount of water in, so I can get the old stuff out first.”

After doing what you asked, you swished the water around the bottle, clearing out any extra tonic residue that might be left over. Pouring it out somewhere behind your bed (avoiding the pelt that acted as your carpet), you gestured for him to refill the bottle again. This time, instead of dumping it back out, you placed the small bouquet in it, the opening of the bottle barely big enough to hold all the flowers. Carefully you put the bottle back on the nightstand, and when it didn’t tip over, you let out a celebratory clap.

“Look how pretty those are, Jack! You picked out the best flowers.”

“I hope they make you feel better, Auntie Morgan. Ma says you got hurt real bad.”

“I bet they will,” you replied, not even registering what he said until a few seconds later. “Auntie Morgan? Where’d that come from?”

Jack shrugged, and you saw Abigail give you yet another apologetic look. “Well, I saw Uncle Arthur leave your tent, and he never did that before. And Ma told me that when someone has a tent with someone, it means they are dating! And when you are dating, you have the same last name! So that means you are now Auntie Morgan!”

“Oh… I mean… well…” You’re sure your face was significantly darker than it was moments ago as you stumbled over your words.

“Jack!” Abigail reprimanded, a horrified look on her face at Jack’s comment. “I’m… I’m so sorry, I just… that’s the only way I knew how to explain it to Jack when he asked.”

“Well, you’re not entirely wrong. We are… I think.”

“You… you are? When you nodded, Abigail gasped excitedly. “Oh, well that’s wonderful! I’m happy for you!” She hugged you gently before taking a step back by her son. “It’s about time…” she teased, and you rolled your eyes.

“I told you she was Auntie Morgan, Ma!”

“Not quite yet, Jack. We’re not married. Only married people have each other’s last names,” you tried to explain.

“So are you gonna marry Uncle Arthur then?”

Thank goodness you hadn’t decided to take a drink of your water, or else it would've been spat out at his question. Your face felt flame hot at this point, and you nervously picked at your nails. “We’ve only just started dating, Jack. I… He hasn’t asked me that question yet.”

“Do you want to marry Uncle Arthur?”

“That’s enough!” Abigail practically jumped to cover Jack’s mouth. You laughed at Jack’s lack of filter despite your growing flustered state. With her hands on his shoulders, she led Jack outside, returning by her lonesome a short while later. Sighing, she sat on the side of your bed. “Sorry ‘bout that, again.”

With a wave, you dismissed her concerns. “It made me laugh.” You could tell she was itching to say something, but couldn’t tell if it was rude or not. “Me and Arthur spoke last night. We… confessed some things to each other, and, well, you heard what I said. There’s… something between us.”

“I really am happy for you,” she smiled at you, taking your hand in hers. “You two are good for each other. Being close with someone, in this life, it ain’t easy. But that don’t mean it ain’t worth it. Treasure the moments you have together, and take time for you both. Be there for each other, but don’t be fully dependent on the other. Communicate, even if it’s hard. Lord knows I know that all too well.” An almost regretful look crossed her features, a tiny frown pulling at her lips, as if reminiscing over past mistakes between her and John.

“And, if he breaks your heart, which I pray he never does, just know that there is a camp full of nasty outlaws that would do anything for you. Myself included,” she added, a playful look replacing the old one.

“Thank you, Abigail.”

With a final squeeze of your hand, Abigail stood up, brushing out the creases in her skirt. “I’ll try my best to stop Jack from saying too much ‘bout the two of you. But, be ready for anything.” As she exited the tent, you could hear Jack loudly talking to someone about the conversation he just had with you. Groaning, you flopped your head back, praying that someone wasn’t Arthur.

The rest of that first day was filled with rest broken up by people coming to visit you. Charles had come in about twenty minutes after Abigail, and the two of you had chatted for a good while, catching up on his and Arthur’s adventure to find you. He had also gifted you a small whittled version of your horse, the wood stained to match his black and white coat. You had accepted the gift with gratitude, setting it by your flowers after staring at it in your hands for a long while.

Arthur had come back during Charle’s visit, freshly bathed and with new clothes on. His hair was still slightly damp as he stood awkwardly at the entrance, not wanting to barge in on your conversation. Gesturing him further inside, you then patted the bed behind you where he was before, moving further up so there was more space for him.

As he came over, he patted Charles on his shoulder, joining into the conversation with a few additions to the story as he slid into the bed behind you. You didn’t fully lay against him, not wanting to get too affectionate in front of your friend and making him uncomfortable. Charles only stayed a few minutes after that, giving you a light hug before leaving the two of you.

Reclining fully against Arthur’s chest, you let out a pleased sigh as you felt him embrace you. “Y’know, I heard some crazy things from Jack not too long ago.” You felt him laugh as your head rolled back defeatedly, eyes closed.

“He’s definitely Marston’s kid, that’s for sure. Nosy little…” you grumbled, and you felt him laugh again.

“He’s not the only one. Mary-Beth and the girls nearly jumped me after they saw me leave. Barely made it down to the river in one piece.”

“How’d you survive?”

“John got ‘em off my back. Then, once the other’s were out of earshot, began hounding me with his own questions. I swear, the whole camp is a bunch of high society folks who got nothing to do but gossip all day.”

“Can’t fault them. It’s not everyday that the gang has a new couple in it.” You hadn’t meant for the term couple to slip out. You knew there was something between the two of you, but you feared putting a label on it. Slowly opening your eyes, you tried to gauge Arthur’s facial expression, but to no avail. You remembered Abigail’s words about communication, so you took the leap of faith. “We… Are we a couple? Are we… dating?” It felt juvenile to use the word dating, but you knew no other way to ask.

“Yes?” Arthur replied almost immediately, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Oh. You felt a little silly, and you closed your eyes again, avoiding Arthur’s confused glance.

“Unless…” you could hear the panic and disappointment in his voice, and you immediately reopened your eyes, lifting out of his embrace to turn and face him fully.

“No, we are! It’s just, you… we never said that we were, like, official, and I didn’t want to put a label on it and make you uncomfortable and I really want to be yours but I don’t want to push you into somethin’ if you’re not ready for it and… what?” Your rambling was cut short by the fond yet amused look on Arthur’s face.

“I’m more than ready for this. Trust me. I want this. I want you.”

“Okay,” you nodded, kissing him quickly, before laying back down on Arthur, this time facing his chest, your face burrowed in the crook of his neck. You felt his hand rub up and down your back, pressing kisses on the top of your head as you settled in. You were starting to feel sleepy, a mix of the food, tonic, and Arthur lulling you back to unconsciousness.

“You smell good,” you mumbled, voiced half muffled by his neck.

“Do I meet your standards, princess?”

“Y’always do, pretty boy.”

“Pretty boy?” Arthur scoffed lightly.

“Very pretty. Prettiest boy I’ve ever met.”

You felt him shake his head, clearly not believing you, but you could feel his heart rate began to pick up. You didn’t have to look up to know he was blushing.

“Go ahead and rest. You want me to send away visitors?”

“Only for an hour. Just gonna close my eyes for a bit. Promise me you’ll only let me sleep for a bit.

“I promise,” was the last thing Arthur said to you before you fell asleep.

By the end of the day, your nightstand and the floor around it was filled with various trinkets and goods from the other gang members; Lenny had brought you your favorite candy; Javier had gotten you a new necklace that he totally hadn’t stolen; Mary-Beth bought you a new shirt, your previous destroyed beyond repair. It was at that point you remembered that your old boots and hat were still at the O’Driscoll’s camp.

To your surprise, even Micah had stopped in, albeit briefly, giving you a quick apology before leaving. You and Arthur had shared a good laugh at that after he was long gone. As sick as you were at hearing the question “how are you doing”, it was nice to be cared for like this.

Throughout the day, Arthur stayed by your side, leaving for only a few moments to relieve himself, grab something for you, or to confer with the others in camp. He would call on one of the girls in camp to help you when needed to relieve yourself. Dutch, bless him, didn’t call on Arthur once that day, giving both of you much needed rest. When you weren’t getting visitors or resting, you and Arthur chatted or cuddled in silence.

Darkness had long since flooded your tent, the lantern hanging unlit in the center of your tent. Laying on your right side, Arthur lay behind you, arm strung across your waist, keeping you pulled close to him. As you closed your eyes, the warmth of the man behind you better than any blanket on the market, you realized there was no way you were ever going to be able to sleep alone again.

You found yourself fine with that fact.

#arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan rdr2 #arthur morgan #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2

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dilatorywriting · 1 year

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Heroes vs. Villains : The Staff [Part 4]

Platonic GN!Reader x NRC Staff vs. RSA Staff Word Count: 2.9k

Summary: Woe to the Ramshackle Prefect, being caught up in the drama between the Disney Villains and their respective heroes. NRC Staff Version (Part 4)

ie. So the saying goes, 'nothing gold can stay.' Or, the Prefect is facing yet another Overblot and it drags some unpleasant dilemmas to the surface.

A/N: I have been fighting this for a solid hour now, and Tumblr is just being an absolute nightmare and not letting me add any more tags without crashing/refusing to save the post, so if you got kicked off the list, my sincerest apologies

[PART 1] [PART 2] [PART 3] [PART 4]

There was a curt knock on Mozus Trein’s door.

The aging professor fought the inelegant urge to drop his head into his hands. After taking a moment to silently curse every other damned member of faculty at this college, he schooled his expression into a vague attempt at neutrality and cleared his throat.

“Enter.”

Divus Crewel and his ridiculous ensemble strutted into Trein’s office, and the historian barely bit back a sneer. He and the other professor had never gotten on at the best of times. Perhaps they would tolerate one another for the occasional game of chess, but the other man’s opinions on more or less everything (especially dogs. Ugh.) rankled something unpleasant in Trein’s chest. Call him old fashioned, but intentionally sharpening oneself into something miserable, and cold, and alone all in the name of maintaining an appearance of sophistication was something he would never respect.

Lucius growled from his place by the windowsill, and Crewel very noticeably fought to keep himself from raising his hackles in return. The black-and-white monstrosity leant forward and placed a bottle of red whine on Trein’s desk with a clack.

“What is it now?” Mozus frowned.

Divus didn’t bother to sit in the chair opposite him. He never did. He paced along one of the bookcases for a moment, trailing his crimson gloves along the leather spines.

“More of the same, I suspect,” he finally huffed.

Trein sighed and rifled around in his desk drawers to unearth his chest set. Not the good one—the one with hand-carved, stone, pieces that his daughters had given him for his birthday two years ago. This set wasn’t terribly ugly, and it did the job well enough. Plus, the worn colors lining the board always made something in Crewel’s jaw tick.

“Well,” he grumbled, setting the pieces into place and reaching for the wine. Divus Crewel was entirely unpleasant, but at the end of the day, Mozus had never been one to deny a willing student. And oh if there wasn’t so much that this egomaniacal alchemist still needed to learn. “Get on with it then.”

A part of you was sort of expecting to see one of those ‘WELCOME HOME, CHEATER’ banners nailed to the Rogersons’ front porch.

Which, firstly, come on. It’s not like you maybe vaguely starting to not loathe your time spent with Crewel with every fiber of your being was a crime. And you were still miserable and mad. Stupid, no good, stuck up, no-dad-being, emotionally unavailable—ahem. Excuse you. But you had eaten a few of those fancy cookies. And you were certain that Poe and Perdy would smell Jasper and Badun’s cuddles a mile away. And as much as you rationalized it forwards and backwards that you weren’t wrong, a part of you still felt… traitorous.

Secondly, the Rogersons were genuinely nice people. And you should have known at this point that they of all the adults in your life would hardly judge your for accepting any scraps of kindness being offered to you. (Unlike a certain Old Crow with whom you were well acquainted.)

All that being said, you were still a bit hesitant when you knocked on their front door that evening. Nevertheless, you were met you with a wave of enthusiastic greetings (plus a knitted set of gloves and a hat), as they ushered you back out the door with the promise of new and interesting things.

“We thought it’d be a nice change of pace,” Mister Rogerson explained. He and Annie were holding hands as you all walked down their quaint street, tucked up neatly in one of the roomy pockets of his overcoat. “And you didn’t get to come with us over the Holidays either.”

“There isn’t much else to do on Sage Island for most of year,” Annie said. “But the Winter Festival is always really lovely.”

The Winter Festival was like something out of a story book—all toned in watercolors and lit with a golden warmth that didn’t really seem feasible when the weather was otherwise so frigid. Magic, probably. Everything wonderous here was always magic. The air smelled honey-sweet, and you could feel the rising heat from dozens of outdoor ovens warming your cheeks.

“It’s busiest over the holiday period,” Annie explained merrily, reaching out to adjust the new hat on your head. “But most of the stalls stay open a few weeks later.”

“You missed all the rides unfortunately,” Mister Rogerson continued, giving your shoulder a light squeeze. “But if you’re still around next year, we’ll make sure to bring you when everything’s in full swing.”

There was a decent sized crowd filtering sluggishly through the faire, happy to meander about with their Styrofoam mugs of cocoa and browse the displays. There were more people your age milling about than you would have expected (as nice as this all was, it definitely seemed more like an ideal outing for a retirement home than anyone young enough to still have their original hip bones). Mostly you recognized the clean, crisp, white jackets of the RSA uniform, but occasionally there was a splotch of a more familiar black ensemble darting about amongst them.

“Have you ever had a fritter before?” Mister Rogerson called from his place by a stall that smelled like Heaven compressed into a cubic-meter.

“Not since I’ve been here,” you practically drooled, feeling very much like one of those cartoon characters who could merrily float through the air after the tantalizing scent of baked sweets.

“Do you want the sugar sprinkled? The caramel drizzle?” A laugh then, quick and bright, as he caught sight of the lovestruck (and ravenous) look on your face. “Both?” he offered indulgently.

There was another laugh then—raucous and loud. And a familiar face darted by with a mouth stuffed full of way too many festively frosted donuts.

“Hey! You get back here!” someone shouted, enraged and shaking their fist. “Free samples’ doesn’t mean a free for all! Did you hear me?! I said get back here!”

But Ruggie Bucchi just kept on running, his fluffy ears perked atop his head and his steel-grey eyes thinned with obvious amusement. He rushed past, and you met gazes just quickly enough to catch a smirk and a wink before he was off and around a corner—surely vanished into areas unknown to enjoy his haul.

You laughed into your gloves and turned back to your escorts for the evening with a beam, ready to suggest maybe just buying out the rest of the stall. Ruggie would love it. He’d probably even help you manage Leona’s tantrums without grumbling for at least, like, a week.

But they weren’t smiling.

The grin on your own lips slowly slipped back down into a flat line, and you fought the urge to fidget. Like somehow you’d done something wrong. Annie just sighed and shook her head. Mister Rogerson pinched at the bridge of his nose with a huff—the picture of a properly disappointed teacher.

“Well, can’t say anyone would expect Night Raven students to not be a handful.”

Something curdled a little in your tummy, and you tamped down the urge to immediately and aggressively rise to Ruggie’s defense. They were only free samples! And he loved donuts! And he never really had much money for anything of his own anyways! And they were free! And!—And…

“Ruggie doesn’t have anybody to buy him donuts,” you said at last, when the vendor handed you your own little paper bag overflowing with fritters.

Annie and Mister Rogerson looked at you curiously, clearly a bit lost, and you huffed.

“Ruggie,” you repeated. “The guy from earlier. With—with the samples.”

You could feel your shoulders hunch, defensive. And you didn’t even know why. It wasn’t like—they weren’t going to be mad at you or anything. And Ruggie was your friend. It didn’t seem right to let them just assume the worst of him.

“Oh,” Annie hummed, face softening. “Of course, sweetheart. But maybe he could ask first next time, okay? We’d be happy to treat any of your friends.”

You nodded and nibbled at your fritter. It was warm and crispy, perfectly fried and with a sugar crust that melted on your tongue like the sweetest kiss. It was delicious, really it was. But still somehow not quite as good as you’d thought it’d be.

When you arrived back to Ramshackle that evening, there was wallpaper on the walls.

You squinted at it suspiciously and tapped one of the glued-down edges with your finger. It didn’t vanish or eat you, so maybe it wasn’t an illusion. But why on Earth would anyone bother to try and give this place a facelift—

The front door burst open and Crowley blew in like a hurricane.

“CONGRATULATIONS!” he boomed. “There’s no one else I trust at this school quite like I trust you, oh wonderful and best of all Prefects! So I’m making you the lead producer for our VDC performance!”

You gaped, too familiarized with this nonsense to be as horrified as you probably ought to be.

“What’s a VDC?” you asked.

“That’s a great question!” Crowley beamed. “But first, let me introduce you to your new roommates!”

When the House Warden of Pomefiore and his entourage walked through your rickety front door, you felt something familiar, and awful, and inky swoop in your stomach.

“This building should be condemned,” Vil Schoenheit sniffed with all the grace of someone who definitely probably had a lot of underlying issues that were about to become your very real problem.

Crowley scuttled forward cheerfully to pin a tag labeled ‘MANAGER’ to your uniform jacket.

“Look how far you’ve come!” he sniffled, wiping dramatically at his gaping, soulless, eyes. “I’M SO PROUD!”

“…You can just put your bags over there,” you mumbled, so far past functioning on autopilot you may as well just ask Idia to turn your brain into an AI and get it over with it.

Epel dropped his suitcase near the living room’s rug and immediately the ancient floorboards opened up like the maw of some ravenous beast to swallow them whole. The group of you watched with varying degrees of distaste as his luggage plummeted to the basement, or… whatever existed below the crumbling wood. You’d never checked.

“I have the upmost faith in you!” Crowley chirped before jetting back out the door as quickly as he’d come.

“You did what?!” Crewel snapped.

“What!” Crowley whined. “Isn’t giving your child more responsibilities a sign of trust?! An act of faith between parent and spawn?! DOES THIS NOT SHOW HOW MUCH I VALUE THEIR COMPETENCE?!”

“No,” Trein groaned, burying his head in his hands.

“I’m perfectly fine,” Vil said, with all the cheer of someone undergoing a root canal. “I have nothing but well-wishes for Neige Leblanche and his many, worthy, successes.”

Buzz buzz went Ace’s phone as another of Neige’s advertisements lit the screen.

Drip drip went the heavy, black, magic curling around Vil Schoenheit’s soul.

You fought the urge to put your head through the wall.

The next evening came, as did another bottle of too-expensive wine.

Trein swirled the crimson liquid miserably in his glass.

“Do you know that I chastised the Prefect once? For calling Crowley incompetent?”

Divus sounded worn in a way that he most likely had no right to be, but progress was progress Trein supposed. The alchemist snorted sardonically into his own glass. Normally the wine was a bribe for the elder professor alone, but tonight it was a truce to be shared in bleak solidarity.

“Time makes fools of us all,” Trein hummed.

“What is he even thinking?” Crewel seethed. “As if the Prefect isn’t under enough stress as it is. What exactly does he think these stunts will accomplish?”

“I don’t think he’s thinking very much at all, to be perfectly honest with you,” Trein grumbled. “But then again, making impulsive decisions in the name of parental affection is far from a novel concept.”

Divus scoffed. “Ah, yes. Because that’s what the runt needs. A mockup of fatherhood bearing down their neck at every turn. It’s like he’s not even bothering to actually try.”

“Someone ought to be,” Mozus said, pointed. (And it certainly wasn’t going to be him. He had two, lovely, wonderful daughters to fill his heart. There wasn’t much room left for anything else.)

Crewel glowered at him miserably and sighed in a drawn-out sort of way that was not dissimilar to someone taking a too-long drag from a cigarette.

“It’s not something that fits with…” he hesitated, as if trying to chew over the words into something palatable. “I have no desire to give up everything that I’ve ever wanted to see in myself, to give up everything I’ve worked for, just to mold myself into some—some glorified babysitter.” Something stuck unpleasantly in his throat and he had to clear it twice before continuing. “Especially for someone who may very well be leaving this world forever in a few months as it is.”

The clock on the wall ticked obnoxiously through the silence. Each little second fell in a heavy clunk. clunk. clunk. that echoed around the room with all the gentility of a gong. After a long moment, Trein sighed into his glass.

“Being a parent is not about sacrificing your own sense of self in order to cater to your child,” he huffed. “It is about being there to nurture the development of their own.”

Crewel pointedly averted his gaze to one of the ugly, cat-centric, paintings on the wall.

“And perhaps for you a handful of months may not be sufficient,” the older man continued, swirling his wine. “But I’m sure for the Prefect, it would make all the difference in the world.”

Detention continued, despite your stacking ‘managerial responsibilities.’

Thankfully, it had mostly turned into you sitting in Crewel’s office while you sorted through whatever paperwork you were expected to file and complete. Sometimes a good chunk of the pages would disappear from your ‘in progress’ pile and reappear—perfectly completely and in order—at the end of the evening. You were dead set on never addressing it ever, because if you did he might stop. And he was probably the only reason you were managing to get any of it done on time at all.

Even with Professor Crewel’s help, you were still slow today. And as the night crawled to a close, you found yourself staring at a stack of blank pages without a thought to go with them. The only thing swimming in your head was murky tar and the cloying taste of black magic that came with it.

“Is there something you want to discuss?” Crewel called from his desk across the room. “You seem distracted.”

“I can’t,” you grumbled, something wobbling in your jaw. “Not to the people I want to talk about it with at least.”

Something shuttered slipped across his expression, and he nodded and went back to his own work. You stared at him for another moment, debating.

“What do you if—” you froze and hurriedly looked back down to the pen in your hands.

“If…?” Crewel pressed.

You sighed. “You know, sometimes you care about people, yeah? And maybe they’re not always perfect, but you still care. But then…” You chewed at your lip. “I don’t know. Can people still be good if they do bad things sometimes? Like, if you’d disagree with them completely, but they see it as right anyways?”

‘They’d be taken away?’

‘I know it sounds scary, kiddo. But that’s what we have to do to keep everyone as safe as we can. Does that make sense?’

You thought of Riddle, and Leona, and Azul, and Jamil. And now Vil. You grit your teeth so hard they started to ache.

Professor Crewel looked a bit startled, and you couldn’t really blame him. It was the most you’d spoken to him in weeks.

“I suppose that would depend on you,” he said after a moment. “And if that ‘disagreement’ was big enough to change how you viewed them entirely.”

“I don’t know…” you frowned. It certainly felt like something big. But...

“Well, what have you done about it?”

You blinked. “What?”

He waved his hand at you, and that pointer of his snapped across his palm. “Have you told this person that what they’ve said bothered you?”

“…well, no,” you mumbled.

“Then that’s what you need to do first,” he said, firm. “You won’t have an answer to anything you’re fretting about until you can face that at least.”

“And then what?”

Professor Crewel hesitated then, his mouth working as if he couldn’t really decide what he wanted to say. Or maybe like he was thinking over his words very, very, carefully.

“Do they know that they’ve done wrong by you?” he asked at last, not quite as sharp as before. “And—more importantly—if they know they’ve upset you, are they trying to make it right?”

You had a sudden feeling that he wasn’t really talking about your question anymore. The words settled heavily in your gut, but not in a way that was entirely unpleasant. More like the comfort after eating a full meal rather than the all-encompassing dread that so often took residence there instead. You thought of fancy cookies, and dogs, and cozy coats that were warmer and softer than the best blankets you’d ever used.

“Right,” you said after a moment, and glanced away with a secretive sort of smile. “I guess that would be the most important bit.”

TAG LIST [CLOSED]

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@nexxy-is-lonely, @akuri-shinsou, @nebulabunni3, @hermiona18, @alextheknight707, @crockercorpbakers, @sillyhummingbird, @loxi546-blog, @blackrose8425, @paranoiac-666, @alexpeaches, @cinnamontimecrunch, @cupid3m, @iamnotwiddle, @coloursplash666, @smokebell, @dreamingjirachi, @existingcurrently, @littlemusicfox25, @spaceyrunes, @un-petit-peu-confused, @medleycharm, @chocolateduckdinosaur, @barryatsumu, @ttwinrytwo, @imaginedfantasies, @cleos-stuff, @whathappenedtobees, @5sos-wdw, @trixeraptops, @obaniori, @thededly2, @kttyfngs, @reconcy, @patimiet, @itsmarlsworld, @fae06, @nowwhat-runlikehell, @kinglion03u, @catgirler, @anonymouscandy, @hatsunemiku2025, @clappincobracheeks, @horcrux-alchemist, @crypticbibliophile, @nyotnyota, @ally-glow, @yourimaginaryfriiendd, @hamdehlesmis, @scarapeep, @https-casanova, @niki-chan15, @insomnia-space, @rabioa, @ailynyan, @posionapplecider @pen-observing @afternoon-read, @marvelous-maxi, @inkeddreamz, @ai-dev, @anasianplate

#twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #My Writing #NRC Staff #NRC Staff x Reader #Divus Crewel x Reader #Dire Crowley x Reader #The NRC Staff's Horrible Parenting #But maybe getting a lil better #Heroes vs. Villains #Crewel x Reader #twisted wonderland OCs #twst ocs #Divus Crewel #Dire Crowley #Mozus Trein #Heroes vs Villains The NRC Staff Part 4

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extrajigs · 1 year

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NEW WORLDBUILDING PROJECT BABYYY!!!

Concept: World covered entirely in microbial mat and whose macrofauna are pentapods. One of which is a sophont.

1. The world itself is a little smaller than Earth, but is also the third planet from it’s star and has two moons. It has a pretty even climate with no icecaps due to it’s very thick hothouse atmosphere, even despite it’s p crazy axial tilt. It’s atmosphere is similar to Earths but contains a lot more water vapor and methane and less nitrogen. The surface of the planet is covered almost entirely in microbial mat, to the point where actual ground is buried miles deep and the world would be entirely covered in ocean if not for the mats. The only ‘land’ comes from mounds of organic material built up from the sea floor that have grown large enough to finally breach the surface. Names Planet: Backera Bigger Moon: Milcer Smaller Moon: Daunverr Sun: Sentil

As for the macrobiology I’m still working it out but right now there are two basic groupings of terrestrial pentapods. Subject to very likely change.

First are the Eyebacks. Who are most known for uh, having eyes on their back. They also have their gills open on their neck and need to submerge time and again in water to breathe correctly.

2. That group includes this lil beastie, the Foxtrot, who lives up to their namesake being a crafty lil ankle biter. They are a fast lil critter who prowls the coast for small fast moving prey. They are also quite capable swimmers and swap between land and sea whenever they need to grab a snack or avoid becoming one.

3. Another Eyeback is the aquatic Mynar, who uses their big ass nose horn to scrape away at the mats and stir up fresh food. Generally they stay in water only a few feet deep, moving on to find the freshest growth. Their life style leaves them with a coating of their own though, stained by the food they stir up.

Second group are the now tripodial Elytra’s, who have badass lil beetle backs, and have lifted their front two limbs up to use for object manipulation. They are terrestrial but still rely on water for their tadpole larval stage.

4. This is called a Thwap, because they are very aggressive and use those first set of limbs for smacking anything that makes them even slightly uncomfortable. These are predators that focus on terrorizing smaller prey, loosely associating in groups of 3-10 individuals.

5. The SOPHONT!! I have no idea what to name these guys, so ideas are welcome! I just knew I wanted to give ‘em big ole eyes. They are a omnivorous people descended from hypercarnivorous ancestors. Their culture is centered around large families, usually a ‘wife’ and their many ‘husbands’, but the main thing to set them apart from the rest is the amount of care put into raising their offspring. They will have large pools dedicated to their lil babies until they’re ready to be walking around. Not super advanced technologically since y’know, iron and other metals is somewhat inaccessible. But maybe that’ll change, still thinking of how I want to set up the planet.

More to come, I want to develop the biology of the mats a lot more. I got hella good ideas for some biomes I want.

#new alien time #xenobiology #worldbuilding #speculative biology #spec bio #still working on mirum n the abbys but also wanted a truly alien setting to build #aliens #pentapods #art

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superiorsturgeon · 5 months

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Camping Date

Pyrrha: *wearing a backpack, climbs to the top of a small hill overlooking a wooded valley* Aaah…! I just love going for a hike in the mountains like this!

Pyrrha: Isn’t the fresh air and scenery just lovely, Jaune?

Jaune: *struggling slightly to keep up* Phew! Yeah, it’s pretty cool! You really like coming way out in the wilderness, huh? 😮‍💨

Pyrrha: Oh, I simply love it…! The beautiful landscape, the fresh smells, and getting away from it all with my boyfriend…! 😊

Pyrrha: …especially getting away from certain people…! 😤

Elsewhere in the wilderness…

Paparazzo #1: *clothes torn and covered in mud* Damn it, Pyrrha Nikos is hard to keep up with…!

Paparazzo #2: *trying to repair damaged camera* I thought I saw something red through the trees, but it turned out to be a bird and it attacked its reflection in my lens!

Paparazzo #3: *looking over map* I don’t get it! We saw her take this trail with the blonde kid, but we’ve been hiking for miles with no sign of anyone! I’m not even sure if we’re still in Vale!

Back with the Arkos couple…

Pyrrha: …heh, heh, heh…try to interrupt my romantic weekend when you can’t even find me…! 😈

Jaune: *shades his eyes* Oh, wow! You can really see for miles up here! I’m going to start setting up camp!

Pyrrha: That sounds lovely…! I’ll go gather some sticks for a fire! 😊

Jaune: *bends over to start unpacking tent*

Pyrrha: *slyly stealing glances at the Arc booty while gathering wood* Yes, just you and me by a campfire under the stars, you cute blonde knight…! 😏

Paparazzo #4: Pyrrha Nikos! Oh, gods, I can’t believe I finally found you!

Pyrrha: Oh, for the love of…! 🤬

Paparazzo #4: I got separated from my coworkers and turned around a bit. Can you tell me how to get back to the base camp?

Pyrrha: Oh, well, I suppose I could do that…

Paparazzo #4: …and as long as I have you here, can I ask you a few questions about your partner?

Pyrrha: *shoves a compass into his hand and pushes*

Paparazzo #4: AAAAAAAaaaaaaaa…..*slides down cliff*

Pyrrha: *calls over the edge* If you head east now you should reach the road in about ten hours or so! Watch out for the bears…! 😊👋

#rwby #jaune arc #pyrrha nikos #arkos #jaune x pyrrha #jaune arc x pyrrha nikos #it’s fun to get away from it all #but it’s a lot of work #Pyrrha is developing a reputation among reporters

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fandom · 1 year

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Stranger Things

In a busy, fantastical year of sci-fi television, one show rose above the rest, and we’re betting you know exactly the one we’re talking about. Stranger Things has always been super popular on Tumblr, so it's no surprise this season wasn’t any different. After waiting an entire three years, we were treated to not one but two volumes of horrific, heartbreaking goodness.

From the moment we heard the opening notes of Journey's “Separate Ways (Worlds Apart)” in the first official trailer in mid-April, we knew this season would be on a bigger scale than we’ve ever seen for the series. That same week, Stranger Things made its first Fandometrics appearance of 2022. But the real excitement set in when Netflix released the first volume, a set of seven episodes, on May 27, 2022. The show has appeared on our weekly TV Shows list and remained in the top 20 ever since. Skeptical? Well, stranger things have happened!

The wild mid-season cliffhanger was enough to keep fans going through the month-long break between volumes. You used the interim to discuss theories and fears, share GIFs and edits, and post myriad fan works. Returning to Hawkins in July for the second volume, some of those theories and worries were confirmed. After the two final episodes, you came together once again to mourn your losses and discuss the ramifications of major events for the next (and final) season.

We all know the lifeblood of Stranger Things has always been its characters: We’ve rooted for them, shared their wins and losses, and watched them grow. This is especially true for the show’s ragtag group of teens who frequently find themselves looking for trouble in all the right places. This season, the Stranger Things fandom collectively fell in love with newcomer Eddie Munson: the long-haired, guitar-wielding dungeon master of our dreams. Eddie was the clear favorite by a mile, followed by Steve Harrington and Will Byers (fun fact: they are actually the top three fictional TV characters on Tumblr for the entire year). We’d also like to give honorable mentions to Argyle, Chrissy Cunningham, and Vecna, all of whom have made for major topics of conversation.

And, with everything these characters have endured, season after season, their bonds have become stronger than ever. Steve Harrington is still everyone’s favorite dad (Hopper is a close second), and Tumblr has dubbed Robin and Steve platonic soulmates. This new chapter brought seasoned and budding friendships, romances, and of course, a whole lot of ships. You picked apart every interaction and every lingering gaze and came to the conclusion that Steve and Eddie totally should’ve been together. And then there are the ever-diligent Byler, Ronance, and Jopper shippers. We see you, too.

If all of this wasn’t enough to demonstrate the impact of Stranger Things 4 on Tumblr, then maybe this will: Stranger Things was the #1 thing on all of Tumblr this year. Yes, of all the tags used this year, the sci-fi hit reigned supreme.

It basically turned Tumblr upside down.

#year in review #stranger things #tumblr2022

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themusingsofacurlyhairednerd · 3 months

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Datura Pt 6

Summary: Reeling from a confrontation with Rhys, you find yourself at the whim of one of Amarantha's power plays.

Content Warnings: Canon typical violence, blood and gore.

Author's Note: It gets worse so it can get better, I am so sorry for the amount of angst I just put out into the world, there will be better things coming I swear.

Pt 1, 2, 3, 4, 5

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There is nothing but darkness; empty, cold, all consuming darkness. It holds you, carries you through the void as if it has a mind of it’s own. You have no desire to fight it, no will to struggle. It can move you wherever it sees fit; do whatever it desires. If it desires to consume you until you become nothing but the unceasing void, then you will allow it.

You float for hours, days, weeks, you’re unsure, time does not exist here. There are no stars, no light, no varying shades to catch your attention in the emptiness. It’s a shame you’re conscious enough to feel it, because it might have let you sleep more soundly than you ever have.

The darkness flows like a river, carrying you farther and farther away until it finally sets you down, the cold, stone floor beneath you biting through your clothes. As the mist begins to fade, shapes begin to come into view: It’s an alter, lit by thousands upon thousands of candles, their wax melting down the stone steps beneath the alter. Strange symbols have been carved into the sides, a language long forgotten, even in the history books. You manage to raise yourself onto your knees to get a better look at them, dusting your fingers over the markings. Your fingertips are claws again, your hands wreathed in darkness, like shadows, scales crawling their way up your wrists.

It’s wrong.

So wrong.

You’re not a monster! Your hands shouldn’t look like this!

“No! No!”

The symbols on the alter start to glow, spinning, the ancient stone groaning and moving as something from somewhere in the darkness starts to chant.

The scales continue to crawl up your wrists, your arms, spikes forming from your elbows. You try to scream but the sound that comes out of you is the thing of nightmares.

“Stop!” But no pleading will change what you’re becoming…

You jerk awake, screaming.

After your last interaction with Rhys you’d crawled under the covers to have a good cry and must have fallen asleep. You peel of the sheets, tangled around your limbs, and realize with horror that there are claw marks in the mattress, the stuffing scattered around your body. You jump out of it, stumbling, nearly throwing yourself onto the floor, trying to get away.

What have you done?

There are no claws at your fingertips now, no scales crawling across your body, it’s nothing but your own skin and the bandages Rhys had put there earlier. It’s normal. You’re normal. Right?

You stumble your way into the bathroom to wash your face. There is no monster starring back at you in the mirror, but you stare and stare anyway, the water turning cold as it drips off your skin into the sink. “You’ll destroy us all.” Rhys had said, the words an echo in your skull.

You can’t help yourself as you make a fist and slam it into the mirror, shattering it. The impact burns, but it can’t ease the ache in your chest, the yawning chasm you’ve been tumbling into for hours. There is no end to the fall, just nothingness for miles and miles, pulling you down into the deep, dark abyss. You have no way of knowing what’s at the bottom, if the dream is a warning of what sleeps there. You’re about to hit it again when the lock on your door slides out of place.

“What do you fucking want now?” You snarl, fully prepared to find the nearest object in reach and hurl it at Rhys’s stupid head.

But it’s not the violet eyed male you’re so used to seeing at the door this time; not the Attor either, but two shadow figures, made of mist and darkness, their features soft and feminine. Wraiths. They gently shut the door behind them.

“We’re here to get you ready for dinner,” one says in a soft voice.

The other is holding a long swatch of fabric. “The High Lord said you might need some help.”

You grit your teeth, “You’re welcome to tell Rhysand to fucking shove it up his ass.”

One of them giggles as she floats over to you, “I like you.”

The other sets the fabric, no it’s a dress, you can see that now, the fabric such a deep purple it’s almost black, on the ruined bed. She has no mouth to frown, but the way the shadows of what should be her head move makes you think she’s troubled by what she sees. “Amarantha will not be pleased if you show up wearing that to dinner.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose. You’d forgotten about the dinner.

“It’s an excuse to get dressed up!” Says the first, her shadowy hands reaching for the hem of your shirt. “It’ll look so pretty on you!”

The fact that Rhys had sent them is enough to put you on edge. He is either still so pissed at you that he can’t bare the thought of being in the same room as you, or Amarantha is still so pissed at you that he’s still trying to find a way to calm her down. Either way made you want to bury yourself back under the covers and never come out again.

“How’d I get into this mess?” You grumble.

The first wraith pulls your shirt over your head for you as the second says, “We must be quick. It’s best to not keep her waiting.” That’s all the warning you get before they start dressing you. They’re a bundle of activity as they move you out of your training clothes and into the dress. You can’t help but note that this fits you too, just like the others. It’s velvet, warm against the chill, with a tight bodice that accentuates your figure and then loosens around your hips and falls to your ankles. It glitters when you move in the light as if there are little stars woven into the seems.

It’s beautiful. Something from the Night Court. You want to tear it to shreds.

One of the wraiths brushes and sweeps your hair into a braid that wraps around your head, leaving a few curls loose to frame your face. The other cleans and adds a gloss to your nails. As soon as that’s done they’re swiftly applying powder to your face, coal to your eyes, and a brief swash of dark lipstick across your mouth.

“I’d show you your reflection in the mirror, but…” one of them says.

You eye the shattered glass with a wince. “Sorry.”

The other fixes a stray hair. “You look beautiful all the same.”

You find yourself blushing despite yourself. “Thank you, for all your help.”

One of them giggles and then they disappear as quickly as they’d come, back to wherever the High Lord of the Night Court keeps his, what were they, subjects? Maids? You hadn’t considered that he’d have the people of his court here, especially not after what he’d said earlier about protecting them.

When the door opens again, it’s one of Amarantha’s guards waiting for you. That can’t be a good sign either.

You draw a deep breath as you follow him out. At least it’s not the Attor.

He doesn’t lead you back to the throne room but down a several sets of stairs, past rooms where you hear screaming coming from behind closed doors, into what feels like it might be the very base of the mountain. The floor is rocky here, the walls pock marked with little caves and crevices, some filled with little fires and more armed guards. Monsters you can’t name and things with dozens of eyes peer out at you through the cracks in the walls. Some hiss and snarl. Some scream at you to run away.

You’re heart’s in your throat, the train of your skirts clutched so tightly in your hands you think you might actually rip through it. What have you done?

The guard says nothing as he walks you through the halls. He only stops when you finally come to another humongous door, carved with old and fading symbols. Pillars hold up the roof above it, carved into the shapes of snarling wyverns. This is her dinning hall?

Two more guards stand at attention between the pillars, waiting for the signal from the first to open them. But as you’re ushered inside, there is no great hall waiting to meet you. It’s more of a cave, a single torch mounted to the wall, burnt almost down to the end. At the far end, a metal grate separates you from what looks like a tunnel, but it is too dark to tell.

“What is this?” You demand but the guard is already stepping back, the doors swinging shut behind him, and to your horror, being bolted shut from the outside.

“Hey!” You bang a fist on the door. “Let me out of here!”

But the doors remain locked, no sound coming from behind them.

Don’t panic. Don’t panic. Don’t panic. You will yourself to breath, to remain calm.

The grate at the far end of the wall slowly begins to slide upward, the ancient, rusted metal groaning and creaking from disuse. It makes the walls rattle as it opens, bit by bit. To your relief, no horrible monster comes climbing out from behind it, it merely opens until there is enough room for you to walk under it. There is in fact a tunnel, the path curving in strange directions like a living thing had been burrowing through the mountain. It smells like it too.

Rhysand had given you the wrong damn thing to wear, that was for sure.

You hike your skirts up with your hands and step into the tunnel, seeing no other option, but the sinking feeling in your stomach grows bigger with each step forward you take. It was a terrible, terrible mistake to challenge Amarantha this early.

The tunnel goes on for miles, twisting and looping the expanse of the mountain, often doubling back on itself like some sort of maze. You’re about half way through, the bottom of your skirts so caked in mud that’s your having a hard time holding them, that you hear a strange, scuffling sound come from behind you. When you turn to look there’s nothing there, but you can hear the echo of footsteps squelching through the muck.

“Hello?” You call, but nothing answers.

You move a little faster, trying to find a way out, your mind imagining a dozen different possibilities of what’s behind you. The chasm in your chest widens, beckons, the thing that prowls at the bottom of it stirring to life. It’s an effort to focus, to breathe, to try and keep it at bay while simultaneously trying to not trip over your skirts.

The tunnel veers so sharp and suddenly left that you slam into the wall.

The footsteps are getting louder behind you; you can hear the heavy rasp of breath too. It doesn’t sound fae, it’s heavy almost, like a creature’s might be.

You hike your skirts back up and run, fighting the mud and the building panic in your chest. Another left, then another, and there, at the far end, light pokes through. Light, so much brighter than any you’ve seen in weeks. You barrel towards it as fast as your legs can carry you, for as fast as you are, that thing behind you is faster. It’s running now too, the walls shaking behind it.

From somewhere beyond the light you hear Amarantha’s cruel voice call out, “Oh good, the entertainment is finally here.”

Shit shit shit!

Are you the entertainment?

Does it matter in the end?

You burst out of the tunnel, the light so blinding after weeks in the dark that you slip and loose your footing trying to shield your eyes. There’s a chorus of laughter above you, as if a large crowd is starring down at you. There’s too much light! It burns.

“Having fun yet, little mouse?” Amarantha coos.

And then something with claws latches onto your shoulder and hurls you across the space.

You don’t even have time to scream, have time to register anything beyond the flash of pain in your shoulder before a wall rises up to meet you. Everything spins as you slam into it and crumple into the mud. The cold seeps through you, plasters you dress to your body. You taste blood.

Something from within the blur of colors swimming across your eyes roars at you.

There’s a crowd somewhere above you cheering.

Trying to wipe the spots out of your eyes only smears mud across your face.

"Get up!" Rhys's voice echoes like a banging gong in your head.

"Stay out of my fucking head!" You slam the door to your mind in his face. Now he suddenly wants to be helpful? Bastard!

You stumble onto your knees, the mud sinking beneath your palms.

"Move!" Rhys has barreled right through the door in your mind like it's made of toothpicks, panic edging his voice. You don't have enough presence of mind to look up to wherever he might be in the crowd. Not when a jagged set of teeth latches onto the already gaping wound in your shoulder and drags you into the center of what you’re pretty sure is a pit. It’s breath is rancid, rotting meat clinging to it’s rows and rows of jagged teeth, clamping down on your shoulder as it shakes you like a rag doll.

You’re going to die here, shaken to death like a toy if you don’t do something. Amarantha certainly isn’t going to save you, not when you’d wounded her pride so thoroughly this morning.

The thing that lives beneath your skin calls again, you can almost imagine a hand reaching out of the chasm, dark and scaled like that thing in your dreams had been. It begs you to reach out and take it.

The pain in your shoulder is blinding, you’re sure you’ll loose that arm entirely if it doesn’t stop shaking you.

You reach out and grab the hand offered, you’re only lifeline, and the chasm does in fact split open. The darkness that lives there swells and fills you so thoroughly you wonder for a moment if you are dead. But then you’re blinking against the light and things start coming into focus, even as your body shifts and morphs. You have talons again, but they’re longer now, slicing through the chest of the beast like they have a mind of it’s own until it’s terrible jaws unclench and drop you. It whimpers as it eyes the dark mist leaking from your body and when you flick a wrist in it’s direction, scattering that darkness, it slams the beast into the wall.

It’s some sort of chimera, it’s great wings flared out behind it’s scaled body. It’s got more teeth and horns than the ones you’d seen depicted in books, like it’s been modified for whatever this great pit is.

The crowd is in fact situated above you, the pit and all it’s tunnels separated by a chain-link dome high above your head, there are tables and benches, and another throne for Amarantha, around the edge, all gaping at your display.

You manage to rise, legs shaking beneath you. The bodice of your gown is in tatters, clinging to your shoulder by no more than a thread, all your exposed skin covered in blood. You can barely raise your right arm, but your left, wreathed in dark tendrils of magic and clawed is clearly visible in the light.

The chimera growls as it stalks back over to you, crouched low, ready to pounce. You’ve sprouted fangs, you can feel them poking into your lip as you snarl back at it, now more animal than girl. Maybe Rhys is right, maybe you really are a monster capable of destroying everyone. You have enough time to finally mark the section of the viewing platform where all the High Lords sit, and you can feel that assessing gaze of his more than all the others. You spare him a glance because you can't help yourself, because for all the pain he's caused you, you want the final nail in your coffin to be the look of disgust on his face when he sees that he's right about you. But it's not disgust that you see at all, but genuine, unbridled fear.

"Don't stop," he urges. "Kill it now!" Not fear of you, but for you? This isn't the time to try and make sense of what games Rhys is playing. The back and forth games, the way he pushes you away but comes back on his own is something you'll have to deal with later, when there's not a monster snarling at your feet, ready to devour you.

You reach into that darkness inside of you, where all your confusion and anger goes, pushed like some sort of sacrifice to the monster that lives within. You grab it, will it back to the surface, and when the chimera lunges, you blast all that energy out of your fingertips. The wave of darkness that flows from you turns the creature into a bloody mist, no bones or claws or teeth left in it’s wake. The mist splatters across your skin; you can taste it on your tongue.

You might have had more time to freak out over it if a second beast didn’t come hurtling out another tunnel. There is no time to think, only to move, as you throw yourself out of the way of it’s claws and back into the mud.

"Good girl."

"Shut up, Rhysand!"

The crowd cheers on the new beast. This one is quicker than the first, catching itself and spinning back to you faster than you can blink. You don’t have time to reach for any of your power, only to raise a hand and your claws tear through the thing’s belly as it flies overhead of you. Blood and gore rain down on you as it crashes into the wall, whining.

It’s in your eyes, your nose, dripping down the back of your ruined dress. Good. No more Night Court clothes for you.

You haul yourself back up and slash at it’s exposed sides, it’s wings, any part of it you can reach with your claws. There is nothing to stop you, your claws slide through it like butter, spraying blood and no matter how your mind screams at you, you can’t stop. Your powers have taken over, it demands that you keep pushing. There isn’t much left of it by the time the third chimera makes it into the pit.

There’s no telling how many Amarantha has at her disposal. Judging by the booing and screaming of the crowd, maybe there isn’t that many.

You’re aware, as you finally leave the ruined corpse of the second, that something is happening to your eyes. They feel different. Things look sharper, clearer. They’ve shifted into something else, but you’re not quite sure what.

As the beast lunges for you, you lunge right back, a flurry of claws and fangs and dark power that makes mud and blood fly. The lights from the chandeliers far above your head sway and shutter, like you’re sucking the power from them, dimming the room. The darkness of the mountain is nothing compared to the void that lives inside you.

You black out for a moment, seeing nothing but darkness and hearing only the sound of your own wild roaring, and when you come to, you’re on your knees in the mud, panting, half laughing with delirium. And the chimera is in pieces before you.

The crowd overhead is on their feet screaming and cursing in disbelief.

You manage to drag your gaze over to where Amarantha sits on her throne, her mouth hanging open. Rhys is standing behind her, stone faced. At her feet, sits that male wearing the collar.

"Get up."

It's too much effort to fight him or push him out of your head, it's clear he's capable of getting in regardless. All those lessons he'd been toying with you, probably trying to lull you into a false sense of security so you weren't prepared for the next time he needed to get something out of you. It's exhausting trying to figure out his play.

Still, there's a small piece of you that knows he's right, that Amarantha is watching, waiting to see what you'll do. If you stay here kneeling, crying in the mud, she'll still take it as a victory, she still found a way to beat you. It takes all your effort to get yourself onto your feet again. Everything feels like it’s trying to push you down into the mud. You’ve never been this exhausted in your life. It’s by sheer force of will that you manage to stand and lock your knees so you don’t crumble back into the mud.

You’re sure you look absolutely disgusting. No one is going to point you out as the daughter of the King of Hybern. There is no princess here in the pit, only this clawed thing.

So, from one monster to another, you look Amarantha in the eyes, and raise your middle finger.

Flame and ice and wind explodes from her so fast that the crowd around her has to jump out of the way to avoid being hit.

There’s another grate in the side of the pit, hidden by rocks and debris but you hear it open all the same. Two guards emerge this time to drag you out. No more beasts for you to fight.

You manage to walk yourself under the grate, but once it starts to close behind you, blocking you from the crowd's sight, you collapse against the wall. As you catch your breath, your claws slowly retract. The dark mist that wreathes your body begins to slow and settle. Your eyes readjust to the dark, to whatever they were before this all started. It feels like the chasm you split open shrinks back inside of you--a volcanic eruption suddenly bubbling back down into the mountain. It leaves you slowly, settling back beneath the surface as if it hadn’t just caused such utter chaos. Your hand shakes as you run it over your eyes, trying to clear away everything clinging to your face. What did you just do?

One of the guards grabs your arm and hauls you off the wall.

Your whole body aches, but the pain in your shoulder, your right arm useless and limp at your side is excruciating. Even the movements from the way they drag you makes it feel like your whole arm might just pop off.

You can’t focus on where they’re leading you, all your energy into staying upright. You hear doors open and see the lights shift and change as you’re lead through other rooms but none of it makes any sense to you.

“I’d like to go back to my room now,” you say, your voice raw. Were you screaming that much?

They ignore you as they continue to lead you in what feels like circles. It’s only when you see a shock of red hair beneath a glittering crown made of bones and rubies that you realize they’ve led you up to where the crowd had been watching your little display. Most of which is clear now. There are jagged icicles sprouting out of one wall, a body impaled on it, another crushed beneath it. The chain-link separating the room from the pit is partially melted, the remains of it swinging back and forth on the wind. Tables and chairs have been strewn about, some broken. There’s a few people moaning and bleeding on the floor, everyone else that could had scattered.

Amarantha remains shaking with rage in the center of the room, ice sprouting from her left hand, crackling and crawling all the way up her elbow, even as her other hand is wreathed in flames. Her eyes are so dark they’re almost wholly black.

The sight of her shakes some alertness back into your body, so at the very least you’re not about to collapse onto the floor.

Most of the High Lords are gone, save for a masked blonde who you can only assume is Tamlin. He’s wearing a collar too, the chain hooked into the floor beside her throne.

And Rhysand, half his shirt torched, is dabbing a damp cloth into a deep blister across his tattooed chest.

This damage is your fault, you realize with a sinking feeling in your gut. If you hadn’t challenged her, pushed her too far, none of this would have happened. Those people under the ice would still be alive and Rhys wouldn’t be hurt. You’re pissed at him but you don’t want to see him hurt. You don’t want to see anyone hurt. You had just been so on edge earlier, so focused on doing something to make Amarantha pay you hadn’t stopped to think about who she’d hurt in the aftermath.

“I’m sure you’re very pleased with yourself,” Amarantha snarls.

You can still taste the blood of those beasts in your mouth. “Thrilled actually,” you say because you can’t stop yourself. You can’t keep all these things at bay, it’s like they just slip out of you and no matter how much your mind reels and balks at it, it comes out anyway.

She moves so fast you barely have time to blink before she’s slapping the hand covered in ice across your face. “You stupid, little bitch!”

It burns as if it was the fire, but even if you wanted to hit her back, you can’t. You don’t have anything left in your body other than to hiss at the contact and try to retain your balance. The last thing you want is to end up on the floor at her feet.

Maybe it doesn’t matter in the end, because, despite all he’d said earlier, and despite the massive blister, Rhys manages to weasel himself in between the two of you. He’d been right about you and he still jumped between you.

“It’s not her fault,” he says.

The room shutters so hard one of the chandeliers falls from the ceiling and crashes to the floor.

“Get out of my way, Rhysand!” She screams.

“It’s my fault.”

The world stops turning for a second. He can’t be serious.

“I pushed her too hard training earlier.”

The lie makes your stomach twist, you sway on your feet trying to reach out and push him out of the way, to tell her that’s not true. But your body won’t move the way you need it to. Everything is sluggish and slow, all your energy reserves tapped. You’d overdone it.

“So you knew she could do that?” Amarantha says and her voice is so deadly quiet that you use the last little bit of your strength to grab Rhys’s wrist and try to pull him out of the line of fire.

“I suspected.”

“And yet you said nothing?”

There is no hesitation in his voice as he says, “No, I didn’t think it was necessary until we knew for sure.”

He needs to move. Maybe there is still some small chance that she can’t kill you, that she would have pulled you out of the pit at the last possible second just to save face with Hybern, but you’re not entirely sure Rhys has that same protection. New High Lords can be made. You tug on his wrist again, but he pays it no mind.

You’re only other option is to hope he can hear you as your stand at the edge of the hallway in your mind, the yawning, dark precipice beyond swirling in various shades of blue and black. “Rhys stop!” You scream. “She’ll kill you!” Damn him. As cruel as he is, as much as you want to hate him, you can’t stand here and let him do this for you. You challenged her and you had beaten her, whatever consequences came with that are yours.

If he hears you, he doesn’t acknowledge it either.

“We’re going to have a very long conversation about where your loyalties lie, Rhysand,” Amarantha snarls as she gestures towards the guards still hovering around behind you.

You’re so dizzy from he blood loss, crimson dripping off your fingers, pooling at your feet, that you’d forgotten they were there. When they move to grab him, he doesn’t fight it.

You can’t breathe again, reaching desperately for any bit of power you can reach inside yourself. He’s an asshole but you can’t let this happen, you can’t let her hurt him. But the chasm that was so readily open to you before is closed, nothing there for you to reach like you’d used every bit you had available.

This couldn’t be happening! Not now.

“It’s not his fault!” You say, but they’re already clamping irons down on his wrists, as if he’d been putting up any fight at all. “This is between you and me.”

She finally flicks her gaze off him to look at you, the corners of her mouth turning up in a grin. “Don’t worry, little mouse, you and I will be working very closely from now on to make sure something like this doesn’t happen again.”

Mother save you!

“Don’t do-”

“Stay quiet.” Rhys hisses before the door that leads to him slams shuts and locks from the inside. He'd heard you, and then he’d locked you out.

You look back and forth between them. Spots are starting to form in the corners of your eyes and there’s pressure in the base of your skull. You can’t tell if it’s from the pain radiating in your shoulder or a headache from expelling so much power at one time. Either way, it’s like a countdown has started. You only have so much left to give before you collapse.

“Get them both out of here before I change my mind about being merciful,” Amarantha hisses.

One guard grabs your busted arm and you can’t help but scream as he gives it a yank.

Rhys lunges at him, snarling something you can't make out, but the other guard grabs him by the hair and yanks him backward.

You’re going to throw up or pass out, the pain making the room spin.

“As if I don’t have enough to deal with with my mate tonight,” she hisses and you barely have enough presence of mind to hear the growl the word drags from Tamlin. Mate. Amarantha is the High Lord of Spring’s mate. “You’re lucky it was you that brought him in today, Rhysand, or things might have gone quite differently.”

The room tilts and blurs and the floor is suddenly rising up to meet you. It’s too much!

The guard yanks you up by the back of your dress, or what’s left of it, the torn fabric tearing further beneath his gloved hands, and back onto your feet. You’re pretty sure you’re crying as he drags you to the door, but there’s so much caked to your face your not entirely sure if it’s tears, blood, or mud sliding down your cheeks.

“Rhys,” you whimper because there is no one else to beg for help, your powers as illusive as ever and damn Amarantha and her stupid court, but your terrified of what will happen to you and him if you pass out right here.

A familiar brush against your mind is the only answer you get as you're dragged back down the stairs. Those stairs, the guard’s boots, it’s the last thing you remember before it all becomes too much and you black out.

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Tag List: @mariahoedt, @lovelydove, @twsssmlmaa, @sleepylunarwolf, @judig92, @willowpains, @daughterofthemoons-stuff, @annaaaaaa88, @myheartfollower, @uniquecolorwizard, @eternallyelvish, @waytoomanyteenagefeels

#rhysand x reader #rhysand x reader fic #rhysand x reader smut #rhysand x reader angst #utm!rhys #acotar #rhysand acotar #acotar fic #datura #my fics #my writing

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8siangemini · 10 months

Text

You Sly Cat Pt 4 (Miles Morales x Black Cat!Reader)

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5

Summary: After finding the identity of the great Spider-Man you have been planning your great heist with your father. The night has finally come, the dance and the heist.

WARNINGS: Intense kissing, makeout, hickies

Author’s Note: Hiii pookies!! There is a plan to have either one or two more chapters to You Sly Cat butttt before the finale I hope y’all enjoy this chapter :)

That night you immediately ran home in disbelief and maybe even heartbreak but also shock. You went home with so many confusing emotions. In your head you kept on having the image of Miles and Spider-Man in your head side by side. Those times where you were on top of him, when he pressed against you from the back on your debut, it was all Miles. The image of plain Miles in all of those situations made you feel flustered.

But something about knowing Spider-Man’s identity and knowing that it was someone that you are becoming involved with gave you a thrill.

Throughout the whole week of the dance you were excited and over the moon for Friday. You would be going to the dance with the guy that you like and you would be pulling one of the most important heists in your family.

Today was Thursday and you had no school tomorrow due to the dance being tomorrow night. You were currently in your studio art class with Miles sitting next to you with your guys’ easels in front of you. After the teacher gave you instructions everyone went to work and began painting. It was sort of a free day so you were allowed to paint what you wished.

You knew what you were going to paint, who you were going to paint. You pushed out black and red paints and began to paint the person next to you. Just in a different alias.

As you began painting you see that in the corner of your eye you see Miles painting while keeping an eye on you. You look back at your painting with a smirk.

“May I help you Miles?” You ask as you look over at him with a smile.

“Nah I just can’t wait to see you tomorrow night.” He answers.

He smiles at you as a small blush comes to your face. He has been making you more flustered recently due to your discovery last Friday. You could not get the image of him, Miles, pinning you down and being so close to your neck like how he was just last Monday.

He leans closer to your easel to see an outline of black paint of a person in an acrobatic swinging pose. It was a rough outline but he knew who you were painting.

“Whatcu paintin’?” He asks.

Your hand continues to smooth the brush on the canvas as you fill in the figure with black paint.

“Brooklyn’s knight in shining armor.” You answer without taking your eyes off of the painting.

You knew what you were doing. You were going to press his buttons about him without him even knowing.

“O-oh,” Miles says as he goes back to his painting. “Spider-Man huh? Great guy!”

“Hmm I guess so.” You shrug off. Now you have Miles’ attention.

He looks at you with shock and confusion. In your head you knew you were being devious.

“He’s just… an amateur,” In the corner of your eye you see Miles looking at you in shock as his paintbrush in hand stays still against the canvas.

“An amateur?” Miles scoffs. “He’s been Spider-Man for like over a year now. What is he an amateur in?”

You knew how to press his buttons now.

“In acrobatics, like I was doing stuff like that when I was seven.” You scoff.

At the corner of your eye you see Miles looking at you, waiting for you to continue. He was fuming, fuming that the girl he likes made fun of him without realizing it. But in reality you did know. It may be messed up but the way you were playing aand teasing about his alias was fun to you.

“But,” Miles’ expression changes to hope. “I do have to say he is smooth with it.” You set your hands on your thighs with a smiles as you look at your painting.

“What do you mean?” Miles continues painting. “You say he’s an amatuer but then you say he’s smooth.”

“Even though he is an amatuer in his ability he makes it up with his style.” You begin to explain. “Let’s say he was a fighter with his same abilities but without his playful nature, he would be so boring. So I have to give that to him.”

Miles finally takes his eyes off of you and looks at his painting with a smirk he tried his hardest to hide, but couldn’t.

The rest of class went off in silence as you listened to music. The bell finally rang and you put away your supplies in the designated spots in the classroom. As you pack your bag you feel a large hand gently place itself on your upper arm.

You look up and smile seeing that it is Miles. He was so close to you it almost felt like he was towering over you.

“See you tomorrow chica linda. (pretty girl)” Miles smirked.

He planted a kiss on your cheek and you happily smiled as his nose slightly tickled your cheekbone. This sort of public affection, the small touches, the nicknames, you loved it. The way Miles made you feel like you were his and he was yours made you happy. But you would be happier if you two actually made it offical.

You pat his chest and fix his tie slightly until you bring your hand up to his chin and carressed it slightly. He began to blush profusely, this being the first time you are showing PDA.

“Better be ready handsome.” You say before planting a small kiss on his cheek.

You pull away and laugh as you see a small print of brown lip liner and lip gloss on his cheek. Before he could do anything you pulled away from him and walked out of the class.

——

Miles waited anxiously in front of your door with his parents behind him. He was appauled by your big grand house spanning about a whole block and beautiful folliage. He was slightly scared and intimidated by your home alone.

“Do I look fine?” He heard his father ask his mom behind him.

“Bigger question is do I look fine? She’s my date.” Miles said nervously.

“You look handsome mi hijo.” Rio says as she places a kiss on Miles’ cheek which made him feel slightly better.

But he was soon frightened by who he saw through the double doors that were opened by your doorman. Your father stood in the center of the clear marble floor with a pair of staircases going down both of his sides.

They all walked into the cold and clean home with a shining chandelier on the ceiling. Miles walked up to your father as he trembled slightly. Miles reached his hand out and your father shook his hand.

“Hello Mr. (L/n). I’m Miles Morales.” Miles stook to the script that his dad made him practice with him to meet your father.

“Ahh the lucky man.” Your father commented with a smile.

Your father then looked at Miles’ parents.

“This is my dad-“

“Officer Jefferson.” Your father interrupted. Jeff looked at your father in shock as they shook hands. He then looks at Rio and shakes her hand. “You must be Rio.”

Both of them were surprised that he knew of them.

“(Y/n) could not stop talking about you guys.” Your father said with a smile.

“Dad!” You say embarresly.

You finally looked down and meet eye with Miles. Miles wore a beautiful and clean all white suit with a simple black tie. He looked handsome as he looked up at you. Miles felt as if he was looking up at a goddess. The way you made the simple yet elegant black dress look so graceful with black Louboutins heels and long tight black velvet gloves with silver chrome nails that looked like claws.

You walked down the stairs as Miles looked at you in awe. He walked towards the bottom of the stairs almost like a robot and held his hand up for you. You reached for his hand and he helped you the rest of the way down the stairs.

You came to Miles’ side while your hand was still in his. You then lean into his ear.

“Hello don’t you look handsome.” You whisper.

You look at Miles with a smile and he looks at you up and down and smile too.

“Well look at you hermosa (beautiful).” He compliments and you begin to blush as you smile.

——

You and Miles walked into the museum and the main lobby was decorated with elegant crystal chandeliers and hanging jewels. Music was playing and a few students stood around talking to their friends before the dance actually started.

But it seemed that had all changed when you and Miles walked in. It was like time had stopped and everyone now had their eyes on you two. You and Miles walking in with you arms linked together.

“Everyone is staring.” Miles whispered to you as you guided him to try and find Roxie. “What if they think of stuff, what if they start talkin-“

“Miles,” You stop and you two meet eyes while still having arms linked together. “Let them stare.”

You smirk and Miles’ worry melted away.

——

You were overjoyed at how the night was going. You were dancing till your feet hurt and your face hurt by the amount of you smiling. And what made it better was that yourhand was in Miles’ the whole night.

The music died down from upbeat and turned into a slow song, a romantic song, Perfect by Ed Sheeran. Your heart began to race but then you felt a tug on your hand. Miles pulled you into his chest and placed his hands on your waist. Your hands made its way to his neck and you rubbed it slightly as you two swayed back and forth.

Your eyes stared into each other, getting lost in each others. You two were so close you could feel Miles’ heartbeat against your chest. All you could do was smile at Miles and his smile matched yours.

As the song began to end you finally got the light signal as you peeked out the window behind Miles’ shoulder. It was now or never. Just as the song ended you gave a quick kiss on Miles’ cheek.

“I need to go to the restroom real quick.” And before Miles could answer you went out of one of the exits.

You followed the route your father planned out for you and the whole heist was as easy as child’s play. You finally made it to the door of the Delvadian Spider. It was a large sliding door but there was a flat dial lock in the center. You crouched down to it and pressed your ear against it as you turned the dial.

Click. Click. Click.

You were in. The door slid into the wall and across the room stood the display. The Delvadian Spider.

The gold idol shined in the moonlight as it was displayed in the glass. A round oval shaped gold spider with rubies and sapphires on it. Your family’s next biggest heist. Behind it was a window that you had just carved out a circle with your clawed glove.

The setup and security was pathetic. As security knew that it was only teenagers coming into the museum at this time there was no security besides the cameras. Which you father has altered by this point as he sat in the car down the street waiting for the prize to come out of the window.

You touched your gloved hand to the glass and pressed your index nail firmly on the glass. You scratched a circle on the glass and and pushed the glass into the display. Your heart raced and pounded as you touched the idol. Just then the fangs of the spider clamped down on your hand and piecered your hand through the glove.

“Fucking a.” You muttered as you grasped the spider but yanked it out of the glass case suddenly.

You looked around nervously, hoping that a signal or alarm won’t go off. None did.

You all of a sudden felt like you could hear everyone in the building. Your face began to feel hot but somehow not like how it felt when you were sick. Your sense of smell also became more lively. Your head began to ring profusely too.

“(Y/n)?” You snap your head towards the door in fear but see none other the your date. Miles looked at you with confusion but also heartbreak.

“Shit.” You mutter underneath your breath.

“W-what are you doing?” He asks as he takes a few steps towards you.

As he tries to walk towards you you put your hand up while the other stayed on the Delvadian Spider. Miles stops in his tracks and puts his hands to his sides with his chest high. His eyes went from you to the relic and then back and forth. He was piecing it together and after a couple of seconds he finally understood. The hair, your mouth, your touch, it was all so familiar. Familiar from those nights where you two had interactions, fights, flirts. He was hurt and you knew it.

“You lied to me, Black Cat.” Miles spoke with his chest. Your eyes narrowed as a smirk came to your face.

“Now come on darling. I know that I am not the only one keeping secrets, Spider-Man.” You say with a wide smirk.

Black Cat was coming out.

Miles’ eyes widen as you two stand across the empty moonlit room, just you two. You walk up to him as your heels clicked against the marble floor with the relic in your hand. You came up to him and lifted your free hand up to his chin as you two were eye to eye with one another. With or without the masks he was Spider-Man and you were Black Cat. A smirk came to your face as you gloved nails caressed his chin gently.

“Miles, you were drawn to me as a civilian because I was seen as untouchable. Correct?”

He does not respond but the way his shoulders fell as ease gave you an answer. You looked down at his chest and your hand traveled down from his chin, to his neck, to rest at his chest.

“And Spider-Man, you were drawn to Black Cat because of her cunningness and confidence. Correct?”

Miles did not respond again but you did not need him to. You began circling around him slowly as your dress trailed behind you. Your hand stayed up near his neck and placed itself on the nape of it as you plant yourself in front of him again. You two were close, you were chest to chest close like how you were when you two danced. Your heartbeats beat against each other.

“Well Miles, with me you get both.” You look at his eyes and then his lips and he looks at your eyes and lips too. “Not many have noticed but both me and Black Cat are both untouchable in ways. I cannot be touched due to my status and Black Cat cannot be touched due to her reputation.” You begin to explain as Miles comes closer, if that was even possible. “We are both confident. Black Cat is confident in her abilities and decisions and I am confident in my being.”

Miles hands come up to your waist and pulls your waist closer to him until there is no space between you two.

“Then let me tell you about me and Spider-Man.” Miles whispers. “I am clumsy lucky mother fucker that somehow bagged the golden girl.” Miles says as he looks at you up and down. You let out a small laugh and Miles returns it. Miles then meets back to your eyes.

“And Spider-Man is the knight in shining armor of Brooklyn that has been entranced by Brooklyn’s top rising villain.” One of Miles’ fingers begins to trace up and down at your spin. Miles stares at you as you shiver underneath his touch. A smirk covers your face as you stare at Miles’ lips then his eyes.

“So tell me Miles,” Your lips are just a couple inches away. You two switch between from looking at each other’s eyes to each other’s lips. “Are you willing to dance with an angel and the devil?”

Miles tilts his head to the side slightly and you follow suit. Both of your guys’ eyes narrow as your lips get closer. A smirk comes to Miles’ face.

“You’re gonna be the death of me.” He whispers with a smirk against your lips.

“Then I promise I’ll bring you to heaven and hell.” You respond with a smirk.

Miles’ lips finally crash into yours. You smirked into the kiss and kissed back. It was slow and smooth until you opened your mouth and his tongue darts in. That is when everything became hot and fast. Your hands began to wonder around his neck and his chest and his hands gripped your hips and waist tightly and he pressed himself against you.

You head began to ring so profusely and your heartbeats began intense with Miles. Almost like you and Miles were syncing up to the same breath and heartbeat. Everything began to go so fast. Miles wrapped his arms completely around your waist and your arms wrapped around his neck as you fingers tug at his coils slightly. You both leaned into each other, still trying to fight for dominance.

Grunts and groans mixed into the kiss as you two turned your heads back and forth. One of Miles’ hands make it to the back of your neck and his lips slowly lowered down to your neck. Back to where they were last Monday but they finally connected to your neck with deep wet kisses. Miles’ tongue escapes his mouth and begins sucking and nipping at your neck. Your eyes slowly fall shut and your mouth opens as gasps escape your lips.

And you knew for a fact that Miles would be leaving this room with part of your burgundy lipstick smirred on his lips and you would be leaving with a hickey on your neck.

But what Miles forgot was that he was still Spider-Man and you were still Black Cat. And in the middle of the kiss Black Cat had thrown out the Delvadian Spider out of the open window for her father to find and run off with.

Taglist

@sakura-onesan @potato-studez-hungryformore @midnight-fairee @nightshxdex @nana-luvsyu @sukisprettyface @itszzmoon @gabiilyyy @kaisersloyalservant @horologiumwise @heyitsissyx @hana-1235 @capybaraisa @solecitoszn @silly-norman @bassdafox @brittney69 @tammyslove @laylasbunbunny @earth2auka @irizss @cosmiic-7 @ella34435

#miles morales x reader #miles morales x y/n #spider man across the spider verse #spider man #spiderman #miles morales #across the spiderverse #into the spider verse #miles morales x black cat! reader

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jumpstart-if · 11 months

Text

Jumpstart is a character-driven slice of life, containing drama and romance. It's mainly inspired by the show 90210 and the movie Mean Girls.

You had multiple sticky notes on your bedroom ceiling, bathroom mirror, and any other surface you were able to get it on.

How to be rich by 21:

1. Survive high school Survive the final year of high school 2. Move out and get a pet (finally!) 3. Become rich and famous (should be easy enough...)

This list has followed you ever since your eleventh birthday when you were suddenly bombarded with the dreaded question:

‘What is your dream job?’

Quite frankly, you didn’t dream of labour. At least not the regular kind. Call it psychic, but you knew you were destined for the easy life, filled with copious amounts of wealth, relaxation, and travels. You were are special.

Seriously, you had everything set out for your 'rags to riches' story:

You weren’t the most popular, but you also weren’t eating lunch alone in the school bathroom. ✔️

You made sure to work a part-time job, starting from the age of thirteen, so it would be easier for future fans to relate to you. ✔️

You were on your way to being crowned ‘Most likely to be famous’, which would have made for the perfect moment on ‘The Late-Night Phil Show’.✔️

Everything was going to plan… until it wasn’t.

Not only did your mother decide to marry some wealthy businessman, but she also packed up all your stuff and moved you hundreds of miles away from your home that screamed ‘humble beginnings’ and into a five bedroom (minimum) mega mansion.

Oh, and public school? Forget about that. From tomorrow on, you’ll be one of those rich private school kids. Goodbye 'rags to riches' background, and hello nepotism allegations.

Though, that’s a problem for future you...

Right now, you’ll have to adapt to school life the way the people at the top of the food chain do it.

Get ready to ‘survive the final year of high school’ filled with gossip, betrayal, romance, angst, and social drama you could’ve sworn only happened in movies and TV shows.

Jumpstart is rated 18+ as there will be mentions of sexual themes, drugs, alcohol and violence.

Choose your MC's name and gender.

Decide your MC's personality, clothing style, and much more.

Get involved with 1 out of 4 romanceable characters.

Climb to the top of the hierarchy at Maplewood Private School.

Jumpstart your way into the life of stardom and wealth.

Isaiah/India (m/f) 'the high school worldwide heartthrob':

You could’ve sworn you saw them gracing the red carpet in some of the hundreds of magazines stashed in one of your moving boxes. Child of the famous celebrity make-up artist, Naomi Lawton and basketball star, Sean Lawton. Wanted by many, yet only successfully claimed by A. Though, judging by how many people I can be regularly spotted with, it begs the question: Does I care?

Appearance: Sepia skin tone. M! has short coily black hair, mostly styled in cornrows and decorated with some silver hair jewellery. F! has long bleached coily hair, currently styled in waist-length blonde braids.

Alison/Anderson (m/f) 'the school's number one':

Not quite like the ones in movies… they’re somewhat nice? At first, they can be straight-up vicious, ripping apart any and every little detail they can get their hands on, but once you earn their trust, you’ll learn that behaviour is much more of a façade than a true reflection of them.

Appearance: Olive complexion with sprinkles of freckles on their nose and cheeks. M! has short curly ginger hair that loosely hangs over his forehead. F! has shoulder-length ginger curls and bangs.

Tegan (m/f) 'the estranged childhood best friend'

You were eight years old, when their family decided to move someplace else, ripping your, what you thought to be inseparable, bond into two. At the start you tried to keep up, exchanging letters almost every day… then weeks… then months if anything, until complete silence. You’re not sure who stopped sending them first or when even, but one thing’s for certain: you were no longer friends. No, after ten years, you definitely weren’t.

Appearance: Brown skin tone. M! has black buzzed hair. F! has straight, waist-length black hair.

Levi/Leighton (m/f) 'wherever they go, trouble follows aka the school's bad boy/girl':

For someone with a big reputation, there’s next to nothing that can be found on them. And all your pestering questions are met with nothing but warnings, yet you can’t help but grow more curious about them with each passing encounter.

Appearance: Tawny skin tone, though you can’t help but notice the faded scar tainting their otherwise clear left cheek. They have wavy brown hair, reaching down to their shoulders.

Reblogs are more than welcome and thanks for reading!

DEMO TBA

#jumpststart if #masterpost #interactive fiction #cog #choicescript #wip #intro post #choice of games #interactive novel

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hbyrde36 · 6 days

Text

NOW COMPLETE!!!

For my beloved @penny00dreadful 💜🖤

My fandom bestie, writing soulmate, and one of my absolute favorite people in the entire world.

Happy (early) Birthday 🌈👠💖

Huge thanks to @pearynice and @hitlikehammers for all your help in making this story come to life!

WC: 3483 | Ch 1/4 | AO3 <-

Chapter 1: Over the Rainbow

To be perfectly honest, Steve always felt a little unsafe riding around in the van with Eddie. It wasn’t that he was a bad driver, per se, but he was definitely a distracted one, constantly needing to be reminded to keep his eyes on the road instead of the tape deck. He also tended to treat speed limits as more of a suggestion than something enforceable by law.

Tonight was no exception, the feeling of unease even worse than usual because of the storm raging outside. They shouldn’t have even been on the road in these conditions, a fact Steve had tried in vain to convince Eddie of. Hawkins was under a tornado warning for fuck’s sake! But the other boy wouldn’t hear it, their errand was too important.

They had plenty of beer, but they needed snacks.

According to Eddie there was absolutely no way they could enjoy Friday the 13th part 27, or whatever ridiculous number sequel it was that he wanted to watch, properly without the three basic food groups: Pringles, Twizzlers, and some form of chocolate.

They were having a movie night, just him and Eddie. It was no big deal, really. Steve wasn’t nervous about it at all. They’d been getting along fine since Vecna had been defeated, better than fine! They just… hadn’t spent a lot of one-on-one time together.

Typically, at least Robin, and some-or-all of the kids, would join them on a night like this, but the kids were set on going to the arcade, and Robin—who’d finally gotten over her fear of driving and managed to get her license on the first try—was taking Vickie out for what may or may not be a date, and borrowing Steve’s car to do it.

Therein lay the source of the problem, actually. It was usually Robin’s job to procure movie night snacks, and in her absence neither of them had thought to pick up the slack.

Which is what had led them to this moment.

Flying down the road at 15 miles per hour over the posted speed limit, minimum, in a fucking downpour, at night. They were just asking for a deer or some shit to come bounding across the road and then—BAM!

As if on cue, just as Steve had the thought, something did indeed dart out from the side of the road to cross in front of them. Fortunately, for once, Eddie was actually paying attention. He slammed on the brakes, simultaneously jerking the wheel, allowing them to narrowly miss hitting the poor wild animal.

Unfortunately, that combination of evasive maneuvers caused them to spin out, and sent the van careening into a ditch on the side of the road. The vehicle flipped, and Steve had just enough time to think how glad he was that they’d both been wearing their seatbelts, before something from the rear came flying up to smack him hard in the back of the head.

Steve came to slowly, blinking awake, wincing as the bright light of day attacked his retinas.

Day?

But it’d been night, hadn’t it? It was dark, and it was raining, and…

The evening before came back to him in a sudden rush. The van sliding across the road, the sickening crunch of metal as it rolled, gravity doing what gravity does. He didn't remember anything after that, but it looked like somehow they’d managed to land upright in the end at least.

He rubbed at the nape of his neck, pleasantly surprised to find no lumps, bumps, or blood, nor did he feel the telltale nausea that sometimes came with a really bad blow to the head. He wondered if Eddie–

Oh my god, Eddie!

Steve looked to the left, finding the driver's seat empty and was instantly gripped by panic. He scrambled out of the car, nearly falling on his ass in his hurry.

“Eddie?” He called out, fear churning in his gut. “Eddie?!”

He spun a circle, relief washing over him as he found the other boy only a few feet away.

Eddie was sitting on a large tree trunk, rocking ever-so-slightly back and forth, gnawing on his fingernails as he stared at the backside of the van.

“There you are! Dude, you scared the shit out of–” Steve trailed off as he rushed to Eddie’s side to see what he was looking at, and swallowed hard. It was a pair of legs in striped stockings wearing a killer pair of red heels, sticking out from under the rear tires. The shoes glittered cheerfully in the sunlight. “Oh, fuck.”

Eddie dropped his head into his hands. “I thought I swerved in time. I thought we missed it.”

“I thought it was a deer.” Steve mumbled.

Eddie cut him an annoyed glare. “Clearly not, Harrington.”

“Hey,” Steve said softly. He knew Eddie well enough by now to tell when he was scared—when he felt guilty, even if he was trying to act otherwise. “This isn’t your fault. It was an accident.”

“Yeah,” Eddie huffed. “Tell that to the cops! They thought I was a murderer once already. It’s only been a few months where I can actually be seen in public without someone calling me a devil worshiper, or worse. Now they’ll think they have proof that I really am a killer!”

“You know Hop will go to bat for you again, and I’m here. I can be a witness.”

“That’s not all.”

“It somehow gets worse than us accidentally killing some lady?”

Eddie sighed, raking a hand over his face as he rose from the stump. He turned, gesturing to something behind them, but Steve was still stuck on those legs. He couldn’t look away.

“Why the hell was someone out in shoes like that in the middle of the night anyway?” Steve mused. “It was pouring.”

“Steve, look.”

“What if we just said I was driving? Then we– “

“Steve!” Eddie gripped his upper arms, forcibly turning him around.

Steve’s eyes went wide. They were standing right on the edge of a little town. Little, not only in the way that the town itself was small in, like, area, though it was that—about the size of one city block—but for the fact that all the colorful little buildings and bungalows were miniature. The whole thing was surrounded by gardens laden with all sorts of beautiful plants, shrubs, and trees, with flowers of every shade in bloom.

“What the fuck,” Steve breathed, taking a few tentative steps into the vivid village.

“Yeah.”

“Eddie, what the fuck?! Where are we? And why is everything in technicolor?”

Eddie stepped up from behind to clap him on the back.

“I don’t think we’re in Hawkins anymore, big boy.”

Steve shot him a look over his shoulder. “What was your first clue?”

“I see where Dustin gets his tone from.” Eddie mumbled.

Steve chewed on his bottom lip. “Do you… do you think it’s like the Upside Down?”

“In the sense that it’s another dimension? Maybe, but I don't get the feeling this one has any terrifying monsters. It’s too clean. It even smells nice, like roses and shit.”

“Yeah,” Steve agreed. Eddie had a point, nothing about this place screamed danger. “The Upside Down always smelled like mold and rotting flesh.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me.”

“What do we do? How do we get back?” Steve asked, not really expecting Eddie to have all the answers, but he did his best thinking out loud with company.

“No idea.”

“Should we start walking? Maybe try and find a payphone?”

Eddie scoffed. “A payphone?”

“Do you have any better ideas?”

The other boy was quiet for a moment, a rare occurrence, but eventually threw his hands up in defeat. “No, actually. So, I guess walking it is.”

Steve turned back, intending on pilfering the van for things that might be useful, like water, weapons, or one of the many lighters that littered the floor, when something in the distance caught his eye.

“What the hell is that?” He asked aloud, pointing up to the sky at a giant pink bubble that was headed straight for them.

Eddie squinted up at it. “I think there's something inside.”

“Should we run?”

“Maybe we should pop it.”

“You just said there was something inside! Wouldn’t that let it out?”

Eddie shrugged.

In no time, the bubblegum colored sphere settled near them and faded away, leaving behind a woman with long dark wavy hair. She held a long scepter, and wore a tall crown and a poofy ball gown, of all things. There was also something very familiar about her face.

“Wait.”

“No.”

“Is that?”

“It can’t be.”

“Joyce?!” They both said, in tandem.

The woman in the ballgown tilted her head. “Who’s Joyce?”

“You are.” Steve said.

She shook her head, offering him a kind smile. “I’m afraid not. I’m Glinda, the Witch of the North, and who might you be?”

Eddie leaned in, speaking out of the corner of his mouth. “Is she serious?”

Steve snorted a laugh, quickly trying to hide it with a cough.

“What’s so funny?” Not-Joyce asked.

“Nothing, uh, I’m Steve, and this is Eddie.”

She stepped carefully around them, pointing her sparkly stick at the half-a-dead-body that jutted out from under Eddie’s van. “What do you boys have to say for yourselves?”

“I’m sorry?” Eddie said, sobering quickly. At the same time Steve insisted, “It was an accident!”

“Stop giving them a hard time, Glinda. They did us a favor!” A strangely familiar voice called out from behind a nearby bush, and a moment later 6 small-ish figures came popping out of the surrounding foliage.

“They killed The Wicked Witch of the East!” The one with curly hair shouted, as the others cheered.

Eddie jumped. “Jesus H. Christ, where did all you little fuckers come from?!”

“Oh my god.” Steve muttered under his breath.

It was the kids, except they were actually kids. The 11-year-old versions of Dustin, Will, Lucas, Mike, Max, and El pushed and shoved their way past each other, all trying to be the first to approach.

“Who you calling little?” Baby-Lucas said.

“Okay, what the hell is going on here guys? Why are you so young, and what’s with the outfits?” Steve asked, completely dumbfounded.

Once he’d gotten over the initial shock of their appearance, Steve realized they were all wearing costumes or something. The girls wore pink frilly dresses and tall pointed bonnets, something he knew for a fact Max would never have agreed to, and the boys had these funny little shorts with long socks and matching tops—except for Dustin, who donned long pants and an even longer coat, along with a striped bow tie and a giant pocket watch hanging from his side.

Eddie looked similarly stunned. “How did you get us here? And how did you get Joyce in on it?”

“Who’s Joyce?” Mini-Mike-Wheeler asked.

“I think they mean me.” Not-Joyce said.

Tiny Dustin’s face twisted up in confusion. “But that’s not your name.”

She shrugged. “I tried telling them that.”

Steve groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Okay fine, she’s Glinda. Who are you?”

“Oh! I'm the mayor of Munchkinland.” A wide, gummy smile spread across tiny-Dustin’s face as he stuck his arm out, er, up, for a handshake.

Steve stared down at him, unimpressed. “You’ve gotta be shitting me. I'm done playing whatever game this is. How do we–”

A sudden explosion went off in the middle of the town square only a few yards away, creating a thick cloud of red smoke. On instinct Steve and Eddie both moved to place themselves between the oncoming threat and the Munchkins.

The air cleared quickly, revealing a woman in a long black dress and matching cloak, carrying a broom and wearing a hard scowl.

Steve blinked at her, then looked at Eddie for confirmation that they were seeing the same thing.

“Mrs. Click?”

Eddie nodded.

Her complexion was all wrong but the resemblance was uncanny.

Steve leaned in, whispering, “If that’s Click, who do you think the one we hit was?”

Eddie grinned. “O’Donnel.”

“I am the Wicked Witch of the West. You killed my sister. Prepare to die.” The newcomer declared loudly, sneering at the two of them.

Eddie rounded on her, pointing a finger right in her face. “Look lady, we’ve had just about enough–”

Steve grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him back. “What my friend here means to say is, it was an accident and we’re very sorry.”

“I’ll show you an accident, young man,” The Wicked Witch said, raising her green hands and long pointy nails threateningly in their direction.

“Aren't you forgetting something?” Glinda raised her voice, as she too moved to protect the little ones.

“The ruby slippers! Yes!” The Wicked Witch smiled gleefully and made a beeline for Eddie’s van.

When her back was to them, Glinda winked at Steve and did some kind of wavy-woo with her stick, which, in hindsight he realized was a wand, and the red shoes disappeared from the dead body’s feet right before their eyes, reappearing in Steve’s hand a second later.

“They’re gone!” The Wicked Witch gasped, whirling on the spot and narrowing her eyes at him.

“Why is it always me?” Steve grumbled, resigned to the fight, only to find Eddie taking a protective step in front of him as she approached.

“You! Give them back. I’m the only one who knows how to use them. They’re of no use to you!”

She wasn’t wrong, but Steve felt like maybe it wasn’t the best idea to give what he suspected was a powerful magical object to a woman whose sister they’d just murdered. All those months of spectating while the party played D&D were finally paying off.

“Put them on and stay tight inside of them, Steve.” Glinda said, her tone grave. “Their magic must be very powerful, or she wouldn't want them so badly.”

Nailed it.

“You stay out of this, Glinda, or I'll fix you as well!”

The Good Witch waved her off. “You have no power here. Now be gone before someone drops a… a… a…” She stuttered, waffling as if searching for the right word.

“A van?” Eddie supplied.

“Ah, yes. Thank you, Eddie dear.” She cleared her throat, pausing for what Steve could only assume was dramatic effect. “Now, be gone before someone drops a van on you, too!”

“Very well, but I'll be watching.” The Wicked Witch hissed, zeroing in on Steve once again. “I’ll get you my pretty-boy, and your little dog too!”

“Hey! Who are you calling a dog? You looked in the mirror lately?! Witch.” Eddie spat.

She huffed, raising her broomstick high above her head and bringing it down hard against the road at her feet, sending more red smoke billowing up from the spot to quickly engulf her form. When it was gone, so was she.

“Little dog. Pfft.” Eddie muttered.

“It’s the hair.” Little-Max said, matter-of-factly.

“Yes,” Tiny-Dustin agreed, nodding as he rubbed stubby fingers against his small chin. “The word scruffy does come to mind, to be fair.”

“Watch it, Mayor.” Eddie warned.

“That, and the way you were guarding your friend there.” Little-Max spoke again.

Eddie glowered as she dissolved into giggles that quickly spread through the small crowd. Soon all the Munchkins, as well as Glinda, were clutching their sides with laughter.

Steve didn’t get what was so funny.

“Don’t listen to them, Munson. I like your hair. It’s very… metal.”

Eddie put on a show of rolling his eyes, but under it all was a shy pleased smile. “Thanks, Harrington.”

“That’s rough, boys. You’ve made quite the enemy. The sooner you get out of Oz the better I think.” Glinda said, when the laughter had finally faded.

“And how do we do that exactly?” Eddie asked. “The van’s broken down, and even if it wasn't, I have no idea where the hell we are or how we even got here! Let alone how to get back to Hawkins.”

“The only person who might be able to help you would be The Great and Wonderful Wizard of Oz himself.”

Steve pursed his lips. “Okay, I'll bite. How do we find this Great Wizard?” It took all his strength not to put those last two words in air quotes.

“He lives in the Emerald city.” She said.

“And how do we get there?”

“Follow the yellow brick road, of course.”

Eddie shook his head. “Of course, she says.”

“Do you not have yellow brick roads where you come from?”

“No.” Steve snapped. He was already so tired of this shit, and somehow he knew that the end of, whatever this was, was nowhere in sight.

“My, my, you two are grumpy.” Glinda muttered. Without another word she took a few steps away from them and waved her wand, conjuring a new pink bubble around herself.

“Wait, you can’t just leave us here with these kids!” Steve shouted, but it was too late, The Good Witch had already started to float away.

“We’re not kids, y’know.” Tiny-Dustin said.

“You look like kids.”

“Whatever.” The boy shrugged, taking one of their hands in each of his. “Come on, we’ll walk you to the edge of town.”

The edge of town turned out to be roughly 10 feet away from where the van had landed, which wasn’t a surprise given the compact nature of Munchkinland as a whole, but it did have Steve wondering why they even bothered.

At least the kids—sorry, the Munchkins, had been helpful enough to point out the yellow brick road.

As if they could have missed it.

Eddie let out a long whistle. “Wow, that is YELL-ow. Like, I know they said it, but I guess I expected it to be dull or dirty or something, not this bright sunshine color. Kinda reminds me of that sweater you used to wear.”

Steve tucked the pair of heels awkwardly under his arm and started down the path, wishing he had a bag or something to put them in. Holding onto them like this was going to get annoying fast.

“Aren't you going to put those on first?” Eddie asked.

“Are you serious, Munson?” Steve slowed his pace, turning to gape at him.

Eddie grinned, bumping their elbows together when he caught up. “What, afraid you can’t walk in ‘em?”

“I wear a size 13 men’s shoe, they’re never gonna fit me!”

For a fraction of a second Eddie’s eyes went as wide as saucers. “Jesus, guess I was onto something with that nickname, big boy.”

Steve rolled his eyes, shoving the shoes in Eddie’s direction. “Why don’t you put them on?”

“No, that Glinda lady gave them to you, expressly.”

“I'm telling you they’re not gonna fit.”

“Magic shoes, Steve.” Eddie wiggled his fingers for emphasis. “Magic shoes! Just try, I'm sure it’ll be fine.”

Steve glared as he toed his sneakers off, tying the laces together before throwing them over Eddie’s shoulder, and finally slipped his feet into the sequin adorned pumps.

They fit like a glove.

He twisted at the waist, glancing behind his own back, sticking first one leg out, and then the other, as he looked down at himself. “Hmm, they do make my ass look nice, I guess.”

He also just so happened to be wearing his date night jeans, the ones that hugged him in all the right places, and with the addition of the shoes? It was a good look, if he did say so himself.

A high pitched noise escaped Eddie’s throat. “As if you needed any more help in that department.” He mumbled under his breath.

Steve swallowed hard. “What’d you say?”

“Nothing.”

Eddie was always doing that—flirting, making little comments and then pretending he hadn’t. It drove Steve crazy, never sure if Eddie actually meant it, or if he just liked to tease—not quite sure which answer he hoped was the truth.

Steve turned on his heel, literally, and strode away, tired of wasting time. His first few steps were a bit wobbly, a little like a newborn calf learning to walk, but he got the hang of it pretty quickly. He wasn’t, like, swaying his hips side-to-side confident or anything—yet—but he was reasonably sure he wasn’t going to randomly fall over. It was good enough for now.

“What are we looking for again?” He asked without turning around.

“The Emerald city.” Eddie replied, falling into step beside him again, cheeks a little pink. “The little guy who looked like Will said we’d know it when we saw it.”

“Nicely vague, figures.”

“I wouldn’t worry too much about it. They seem to take everything very literally around here, so my guess is if we see a place with a lot of big bright green buildings, that’ll be the one.”

Chapter 2

#steddie fanfic #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #stranger things #steddie wizard of oz #post season 4 #eddie lives #steve harrington/eddie munson #steve x eddie #steddie fic #gift fic #robin buckley #nancy wheeler #jonathan byers #the party

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