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scoupsahoy · 1 year

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leaving like a father, running like water

[crossposted to ao3]

It’s 1991 when Steve finally does what his father’s been telling him his entire life, which is: he grows up. Hawkins is stuck in time, a ticking time bomb, a place that’s never really needed him.

That’s okay. People needed him to stay for a while.

Robin needs him. Stuck to his side, constantly over his house, hardly going back to her own. He hears fighting from the inside for a while before he stops taking her back. Violence and vitriol and venom. And he needs Robin, too, needs her to be by his side, needs her to put him back together after the town splits down the middle.

It’s mainly her.

The kids needed him for a while, but they were always stronger. More magical. He was a piece of shit when he was their age, didn’t understand a single fucking thing, and they just knew. They’d lived entire lives right under his nose. They’d fought and won and lost and lost and lost and won, and they were always smarter than him anyway. More resilient.

And Hawkins can hardly be called a place anymore. It’s gray and rotten and barren, and the kids live there because they grew up on its streets and underneath them, but Steve. Steve has only been beaten down by this place, realizes he has to grow up somewhere else.

His parents give him the house and he sells it immediately. No one’s buying land in Hawkins, but it’s land, the town will take it, they’ll take anything they can get, and so will Steve.

They drive west until they hit Las Vegas and they get hitched at one of those sleazy casinos so people stop asking questions.

Steve dips Robin low and kisses her on the cheek behind a veil and the drunk witnesses don’t notice that her cackle is at the ridiculousness of people ever thinking they could be together. And hopefully in a while she’ll be one of those girls on the news wearing a shirt that says Lavender Menace but she could never have been that girl in Indiana.

And Steve. Well.

Before they really decide to leave, Steve gets drunk and hooks up with a guy he’s never met before and never seen again, a drummer in a little metal band playing just outside Indianapolis when he was convinced he was just testing a theory, and then Alexandria Brown, who had a fucking tongue piercing, just to make sure girls still get him off, and then Ronny Jackson, who was in AP Calc and a huge loud weirdo but otherwise gives him the best orgasm of his life. And he otherwise chases what Robin lovingly calls “the Munson High” until it clicks for him.

He leaves because without the kids to take care of, because he can’t play mother hen forever, Hawkins is nothing but a rotting open grave.

So they drive farther and hit San Francisco with ring pop rings and get a nice two bedroom apartment from a landlord who doesn’t ask questions, and that becomes home.

Steve is twenty four when he decides to grow up.

The problem with growing up is the growing part. Stretching his limbs and pounding at his muscles and working long hours lifting heavy boxes onto wobbly shelves for nine hours a day. He sees ghosts in the grocery store and monsters in dogs on a walk and it’s hard out here pretending this has been his only life. But at least there’s beer.

“Steve,” Robin flies through their front door, crumpled flier in hand, right when Steve cracks the can open. “Put that down.”

“Why?”

“We’re going out tonight. This was in our mailbox. I think it’s a gay club.” She smacks her hand on the counter, spread out over a piece of paper, probably too excited to realize there’s no way Steve would be able to read it.

He puts his beer down anyway before asking what should be an obvious question, because he actually isn’t trying to turn into his father, and because he’s a good friend. “Why would someone slip a flier for a gay club into our mailbox?”

“I think Addie and Rose from down the hall put it in there. Doesn’t matter. Go with me.”

And. Steve stares at his beer and the tiny television they got when they moved in so they wouldn’t die of boredom. They were going to watch Turner Classics or something because that’s what they always do on the weekend.

He looks back at sweet, hopeful Robin and sighs. “One of these days I’ll say no to you.”

“No you won’t,” she says, bright and shiny, runs into her closet of a room to get dressed and shouts through the apartment. “Also, for the record, you need to get laid!”

“Say it louder, I don’t think Addie and Rose heard you.”

“Don’t say that unless you mean it, because we both know I will.”

So Steve puts on real clothes, nothing too nice, and runs a comb through his hair. It’s a bit longer now than it was when he was a kid, long enough to give him hat hair at work, short enough that he’s not immediately clocked as a freak.

On the walk there, Steve decides his primary goal is to make sure Robin has a good time. His secondary goal is to make sure neither of them get into too much trouble. And the third, if the first two goals go well, is to get head in the bathroom, or, if he’s really lucky, give head in the bathroom.

They haven’t been in San Francisco for very long, considering how long they stayed in Hawkins, but there are regulars in their neighborhood, people he recognizes from work, people he recognizes from the store. It’s like they’re making a life here, almost.

The bartender is a guy who’s jogging route passes in front of their apartment most mornings on their way to work. His grizzled face breaks into pleasant surprise when he gets his eye on them.

“Oh, I recognize you two,” he says, pointing two fingers at them. His voice has a midwest twang to it. Kind of reminds him of home, not that he needs reminding. “That married couple up by that one deli. You guys lost?”

“We’re not.. really married,” Robin says, in that ridiculously un-subtle way she tends to.

Steve shoots her a look. “We’re legally married.”

“Yes, but as friends,” she emphasizes, shakes her naked ring finger at the bartender before leaning both elbows onto the bar and resting her head on her fists. “Tell me, do women frequent this establishment?”

If anything, despite the anxiety burning Steve’s ears red, the bartender at least seems amused. He nods over to a corner of the club closer to the stage and she’s immediately off in that direction, leaving Steve alone on a barstool with a man who knows way too much about him now.

Most of the rest of the bar is empty. Being a club, most people are on the dance floor or in dark corners or against the stage. Steve’s always been the kind of guy to sit by the sidelines. At least, since he graduated.

“She seems quirky,” the bartender says, no malice in his voice, pouring a drink for another patron and sliding it down the bar.

“Yeah, try living with her.”

He heaves a belly-laugh that makes Steve make real eye contact with him for the first time since getting in. “I’m Ricardo.”

“Steve.” They shake hands, firm and friendly.

“Not lost, then?”

“Nope.”

“Thought so,” Ricardo says, though Steve does a quick check of his hair and his clothes, see if anything gives him away. And he must be tense, because he continues. “Hey, relax, let me make you a drink if you want. We don’t bite.”

That shocks a smile out of him, enough to ask for a rum and coke. And Ricardo nods, and Steve tries to remember how to be social again like he hasn’t spent the last five years exclusively hanging out with teenagers and Robin. “That’s a shame. About the biting.”

“Don’t you worry about that. I could introduce you to a friend. He’ll do anything if you ask nicely enough,” he laughs, handing over the drink.

Steve squashes down how flustered that makes him. Robin’s right. He does need to get laid.

“It’s kind of funny, actually. Thinking about it, you’re exactly the kind of guy he usually goes after.”

“What’s that mean?”

“You know. Athletic. Good hair. Very normal looking,” Ricardo makes vague gestures at Steve’s general likeness and he tries not to take it personally. “He usually comes by on Saturdays. In case you were curious.”

“What’s his name?” Steve asks, even though he’ll probably forget, by the amount of rum he can taste in his drink and the way a man with more than one tattoo on his neck looks at him from down the bar.

He does manage to remember, because it’s kind of a weird name. And pretty quickly Steve decides that hooking up with someone in a bathroom isn’t too much trouble to get into at all, and Robin is loud and excitable across the club and he shouldn't worry about her too much anyway. So Jacob with the neck tattoos drags him into the bathroom by the hair at his nape and pushes Steve to his knees and the roughness of it gets him off without even being touched.

And his jaw is sore and his knees are bruised and he thinks about the guy named Winn who usually comes in on Saturdays, who likes guys that look like Steve, who will do anything if Steve asks nicely enough.

On the way out Robin has another girl’s lipstick on her teeth so she can’t say anything too scathing, but she does give him the Munson High stare.

He climbs into her bed that night because he has dreams about monsters and bats and open graves. He thinks about Eddie Munson after five years of him being gone, after only really a few days of knowing him, never knowing what he tasted like and chasing it anyway.

•

It was 1986. Eddie Munson died.

•

It’s 1991, deep into summer, and Steve sweats through his work uniform every single fucking day, takes twice as many showers as he can probably afford the water for, and sometimes it’s so hot in California that he starts to think he might be seeing things.

Robin tells him he’s been hit in the head too many times, which is objectively true, and if he were more self-preserving he’d probably benefit from going to a doctor about it. His father would call him crazy, he knows that, too.

Sometimes at work he’ll see a new-hire with Dustin’s curly hair, the style he had it in years ago when there was a chance he could grow up normal. And Steve will go home on those days and call the Henderson home phone until someone picks up and tells him he’s safe.

And lately, on Friday afternoons after work, when he goes straight from work to the grocery store to pick up whatever he can for dinner, he swears he catches a glimpse of Eddie. Just for a second. Like he’s a ghost.

And there are things wrong, always, the hair, his style, the walk, it has to be a hallucination.

Eddie’s been dead for five years, dead in a different state, in a different universe. And there’s no one to call when he gets home.

The feeling of it sits in his gut and festers like a poison. He doesn’t know why it’s getting worse since coming here. Chasing the Munson High.

They don’t go back to the club very often. They probably should. Robin needs to get laid just as badly as Steve does, but he’s never been the type to let loose when he felt responsible for someone else, not since Nancy. San Francisco is big and gay and new and it’s not quite home yet, and they’re from smalltown Hawkins, Indiana. He doesn’t know how to let his guard down.

But.

“We’re going out tonight,” Robin tells him, sitting next to Steve on their little couch with a sandwich and swinging her legs across his lap as a table.

“We are?”

She nods, smiles, speaks with a mouth full of food. “Yep. We’re going back to the club. And I’m the designated driver.”

“You don’t drive,” Steve blinks. “And we walk there.”

“Then I’m the designated walker. I’ll cart your little drunk self back home. Unless you go home with someone else, of course.”

“What the hell are you going on about?”

Robin smiles her little Robin smile, the one where she’s clearly feeling pity, which she knows Steve hates, and will not apologize for it.

She puts a hand on his shoulder. “Your nightmares are back again. You’re worrying too much about me and everyone back home,” back in Hawkins, she means, their old home, “and it’s Saturday night and as your wife, I’m forcing you to go out and get drunk and get laid and stop worrying about other people for once.”

“There’s plenty of things to worry about, Robin,” Steve points out, even though it’s a losing battle.

“I’m a big girl, Steve. The apocalypse isn’t coming to San Francisco, and I’m pretty sure if it did I’d be able to handle it until you sobered up.”

She’s right. He knows she’s right.

Fuck. He knows she’s right.

So he lets Robin eat her sandwich and he gets changed into something that won’t make him die of heatstroke (because if he survived the past eight years and throws it all away in the basement of a club, he’s going to march into hell pissed off). And he makes himself look good and he wonders if Jacob with the neck tattoos is coming tonight, or maybe a drag performer, or maybe Winn who knows Ricardo.

They come up with a game plan on the way, because Steve is nothing without a game plan, basically the only thing that’s kept him alive this long. He’s going to get as plastered as he likes, and Robin is going to hopefully hook up with a drag king, and they are going to check in at midnight. And if Steve goes home with someone, he’s going to let her know before he goes, and he’s going to have a good time (this, she is adamant about), and he’s going to call her if he plans on spending the morning in bed.

Robin tells as much to Ricardo when they get in, orders Steve shots before setting his watch to go off at midnight like he’s fucking Cinderella. She looks Ricardo right in the eyes and demands him, “make sure he gets plastered.”

And get plastered Steve does.

“I was wondering when you’d be back,” Ricardo says. “Not really your scene?”

Steve leans an elbow on the bar. “It’s not that. I like to be careful. I know that this is San Francisco, but still. We’re from Indiana.”

It’s a half-truth, at least. Indiana itself was part of the problem, it always was. Not safe for Robin, not safe for him. Steve always had to pick the safe option. Tonight is really the first time he’s not going to worry about it.

The world is a scary place, even without all the monsters. Ricardo must understand that. Steve takes another shot.

“Illinois.”

The liquor burns down his throat this time, hits him like a punch, “What?”

“I’m from outside Chicago,” Ricardo says, which explains the midwestern accent.

Steve breathes, the buzz starting in his chest. “How long did it take for you to get used to this?”

“Kid, we’re all still getting used to it.”

He takes another shot at that. He thinks about the things he’s getting used to, the new place and the new world and the way the world spins. The way the ground here isn’t cracked and rotten and part of hell. The way he doesn’t have to worry about getting an annual concussion, hopefully, if he watches out, if he follows his rules.

He thinks about Eddie, which is a bit funny, because he doesn’t think he’s tried to think about him in a long time. Sometimes it happens like that. You know about someone for years and then you know them for a few days and then.

Impact.

And if he’s being honest, he’s never going to get laid like this. Sitting miserable at the bar. It’s a club. There are people and performances and men that he doesn’t have to be afraid of.

Steve has to do more than just survive, now. It’s been eight years of surviving and he gets to live.

So he gets plastered. Sloppily so, finds Robin and kisses her wet on her forehead and lifts her up for the girls by the stage and wingmans until she’s giggling and slapping at him and threatening divorce.

He gets bullshit drunk, chases his Munson High, grinds against a man with lots of eyeliner, hair so long he’s pretty. He tells him so against his lips and his hips. Doesn’t learn his name before he’s sitting back at the bar, a moment that hardly sobers him.

He sits for a while and breathes and people-watches and talks to Ricardo, and there’s a man with sunglasses down the bar, staring right at him. His hair is cropped short and he’s covered in tattoos, and Steve flags Ricardo down.

“Am I really drunk or is that guy staring at me?”

Ricardo smiles, response sloshing around in Steve’s brain. “He’s definitely staring. I told you that you were his type.”

“Oh shit,” he says, “that’s Winn?”

Steve doesn’t stick around long enough to hear anything other than the confirmation. And if Winn gets tense, Steve is too drunk to notice. He wants to drink and he wants to make out and he wants this guy to do whatever he wants with him. He wants to flirt and get in his pants and go home with him. And he’s a reckless drunk and he’s okay with it.

“Hey,” he says when he sidles up, rests his elbows on the bar.

“Hey.”

His voice is gruff and deep, surprisingly so. And he looks out into the crowd for a bit, so Steve can peek behind his sunglasses to see what they’re hiding. “I was wondering if you were planning on buying me a drink.”

Winn smiles, and it’s bright, even if it isn’t huge. It looks shocked, unused, awkward in the lips like they’ll crack open. Steve wants to get bloody on them.

“Now why would I do that?”

“You’ve been staring at me all night,” Steve says, even if he doesn’t know that it’s true. It’s true enough. “And Ricardo told me that I’m just your type. Was wondering if you’d ever make a move.”

“Wow. And you couldn’t make a move of your own?” His voice wavers a bit, a teasing jolt, something familiar, weirdly.

Steve drags his eyes down Winn’s body, his plain black shirt, and dark wash jeans, and the lean muscle that sits underneath. “What do you think I came over here for?”

“You’ve got me there. But I don’t think I was staring at you.”

“I’m pretty sure you were.”

“I’m pretty sure I’m wearing sunglasses, so I could have been staring at anything,” Winn says, turns his shoulders towards Steve’s, like they’re closing in on each other.

“You’re looking at me now, at least.”

“That’s true.”

“Any chance you’ll be looking away any time soon?”

It’s fun. Their back and forth. He can tell Winn likes it too, cheeks red, even when the lights change to flash yellow and blue and green. His voice cracks higher for a half second. “None.”

There it is.

“Good,” Steve says, curls his fist into the front of his shirt and pulls Winn down to him. He can feel the snag of chest hair in his hand, swallows the little groan he lets out into his mouth. He wants to get drunk on that, too.

He knows how drunk he must be, out in the open like this. He knows how selfish this must be, and he couldn't give less of a shit about it. Steve wants.

Winn hesitates for a fraction of a second, the kind of second that drags on when you’re drunk, and then kisses back the kind of kiss that empties your entire mind. His tongue is hot, licks into his mouth like fire, and he doesn’t taste like liquor. It’s just cigarettes and sweat and Steve wants to drown in it.

It turns out that Winn is the take control type. The do whatever you want if you ask nicely enough type, if he’s remembering correctly. He’s solid and bone-crushing and not nearly close enough. Steve is desperate and hungry in a way he hasn’t let himself be in years, doesn’t care about the consequences, wants Winn to make a mark on him that won’t go away.

And Winn gets them both drinks, gets Steve just what he likes, takes his own shots like they’re nothing. He downs them like water and Steve stares at his throat like he wants to build a home inside of it.

There’s a little bit of talking, but mainly making out, and a lot of touching hip bones and exposed biceps and the tender skin at the juncture of Winn’s neck, and ordering drinks and feeling reckless and not giving a shit.

And then his hands are in Steve’s hair, pulling, kissing him again and again, and his knees nearly collapse right there.

“Take me home,” Steve finds himself saying. “Your home. Take me to your place.”

Winn laughs, a sharp sound, “You’re a little drunk, buddy.”

“Sober me up then,” Steve says, slides his free hand up Winn’s leg. He tests a theory. “Please?”

And that does something.

He is pretty drunk, and otherwise his blood isn’t particularly focused on his brain function as much as his dick, honestly. But still, Winn makes Steve dizzy with it, with want and need.

It’s quick and reckless. Steve tells Robin he’s going home with Winn, that he’ll call a cab in the morning, and she salutes him on his way out.

The air outside is just as stale and hot as the club, and Steve leans into Winn’s arm while they walk.

“I hate how hot it is here.”

“You might have come to the wrong place, big boy,” Eddie says. Or, well, Winn says it, but Steve stops short in his tracks, feeling like a tape getting rewound, cranked slowly. It’s five years ago all of a sudden, just for a second, and Winn catches Steve by the bicep and if Steve were feeling more like himself he might have flexed or flirted or something. “You alright?”

And he’s back in the present, skipped ahead with a scratch. “Yeah.”

“Don’t die of heatstroke on me. I have water at my apartment. It’s not far.”

It really isn’t far. Winn keeps his sunglasses on even though Steve can hardly see a foot in front of him as it is. He wonders for a second if Winn has real eyes, or if he sees through his lenses like screens. Or maybe he can’t see at all. That seems unlikely.

He wonders if Winn has Eddie’s eyes, too. Big and brown like he’d never seen before or seen since. The real Munson High: not a guy with long hair and rings and tattoos and weird interests, but a guy who looks at him like that, like Eddie did. Intense and sure and determined and unafraid.

“You remind me of someone,” Steve says, sloshed, uninhibited.

For all accounts, he should keep his mouth shut. Steve is actually trying to sleep with this guy, and he can’t imagine that comparing him to his admittedly life-changing but violently dead friend from five years ago is going to be appealing.

And this guy is cool, Steve tells him so. His style and his walk and his demeanor and how he tastes like cigarettes, the kind you roll yourself.

He thinks, maybe, keeping it lighthearted will be best. If this is the final destination of the Munson High, it doesn’t have to be a bad thing. Or scary the way seeing the ghost of him in his grocery store is.

Winn keeps him talking, though. “Someone nice?”

“Oh,” Steve blinks. He isn’t quite sure, which seems unfair, but he doubts Eddie thought Steve was all that nice either. “Maybe. He was nicer than me, maybe. He was good, I know that. We had a lot going on back when I knew him, but you have the same kind of smile. And manner of speaking. All that.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Steve is too drunk really to read into the way Winn’s posture changes, maybe it has something to do with the fact that they’re at Winn’s apartment already. It’s not far at all. In fact, Steve could probably make it back home in fifteen minutes if he wasn’t so far gone.

His apartment is small and a bit messy, and it’s quiet and a little impersonal. Not much on the walls, no pictures of family around. And sometimes it’s like that here, he’s learned. Not everyone has a Robin. But at least Winn has a Ricardo.

The entry space isn’t too warm. It’s actually nice and cool. Cooler than the club, certainly cooler than the outside. Like, Winn must have good air conditioning. “Jesus Christ, are you rich or something?”

“I can’t believe that you of all people would ask that,” Winn says. Steve doesn’t bother asking what that means but he wonders. He looks for hints in Winn’s sunglasses or the familiar weight of his hands.

“I feel like I can breathe,” Steve takes a deep breath and spins, almost topples over, and Winn catches him by the shoulders. Firm hands. Familiar. They’re familiar. “Woah, thank you.”

“Not a problem, dude.”

There it is again. That tone of voice. Steve has got to be fucking hallucinating, honestly, all of a sudden overcome by this pulling in his chest.

“Is dude really an appropriate thing to call someone you’re trying to sleep with?” He flirts, the only cylinder in his brain that’s firing like this. Everything else is fighting drunken confusion and Eddie and trauma. And it’s not fair that this is happening now.

Winn’s sunglasses are still on. “You’d be surprised, Stevie.”

He stumbles and trips over a cable and it feels like 1986 again and 1985 and 1984, and it’s a black and slimy vine, something that will slither around his neck and ankles and choke him out. And the next few hours are a confusing haze, because he collapses in Winn’s arms. He gets taken to the couch, a fucking ugly thing, and he can’t breathe and it’s humiliating.

It’s been a while since an episode like this. The first few weeks in San Francisco were like that, peeking around every corner, distrustful of every shadow. And the feeling of being back there mainly sticks to nightmares, something he can blame on his dreams.

But he got used to it. He got used to San Francisco and normal problems like being broke and hating your parents.

Steve knows what’s real and what isn’t. He’s smart. He hasn’t gone insane. He’s not crazy, except, he definitely looks crazy to this guy. This poor guy. Not-Eddie. Eddie’s not real. Or, not anymore.

He never should have come here. He should be with Robin. She knows what’s real too. She can talk him down. She’s good at it.

He can’t see for what feels like an hour or what he knows is realistically only a couple of minutes, and then he can, because Eddie or not-Eddie rubs circles into his back and puts a glass of ice water in his hands and tells him how cold it is. He narrates the droplets of condensation that track down his skin and into his watch, which still hasn’t gone off yet.

This is the longest night of his fucking life and that’s saying something, it’s saying too much.

“You’re okay, man,” Eddie or not-Eddie says, calm like he’s used to this feeling, when nobody could be. Nobody but the group of them who fought monsters in alternate dimensions, who were nearly killed off and then paid off by government organizations. It’s why Steve and Robin came here in the first place. To get away from it. Somewhere where no one would know. So they wouldn’t have to see the effects of it every day and breathe the awful polluted air.

A chill runs up his spine. The air conditioning whirrs. A thought comes to his mind: he likes it cold.

And he thinks he’s hyperventilating again, he must be, because Winn is concerned and takes off his sunglasses and Steve gets a good look at his eyes and they’re Eddie’s. Like he took them from him. Like the world is fucking with him, like they never won at all and this is Steve’s fucking ticking clock. Like the last five years weren’t real, like nothing is real.

By some grace of God, that’s too much for his brain to handle, and he passes out right there on Eddie’s couch in Eddie’s arms in San Francisco in 1991.

•

It was 1986. Eddie Munson almost died.

•

It’s 1991, and Steve wakes up hungover in a room he’s never been in before. It’s dark still, and his head is pounding, and he’s sure it’s from the alcohol. But it centers around his eyes like he’d been crying, something he doesn’t let himself do all that often, and it floods back.

His eyes barely adjust and there’s an old Metallica poster on the wall and a stack of books in the corner of the room and a guitar pick necklace hanging from the corner of a mirror and nothing else.

Nothing else recognizable, at least. Nothing else personal, not that Steve can really say he knew Eddie personally. It’s nothing like Eddie’s room at home five years ago, the one he had to clean out because Wayne and Dustin were too heartbroken to do it themselves. With his guitars and posters and fliers and lyrics and chord progressions. With his drugs that they threw back into Rick’s house. That he and Nancy made sure to keep far away from the kids, because God fucking forbid they touch them.

It’s too dark to tell if this is the Upside Down or one of those clock hallucinations or if it’s just night.

There’s no reason Eddie Munson should be alive.

There’s no reason, really, that Steve should have been thinking about him for so long, anyway. For thinking of Eddie as this special thing to him, a high he’s chased for years, a person he recognizes pieces of in strangers on the street. That must be what this is. Punishing him for not letting him go. When he hardly fucking knew the guy.

But that’s not right, either.

He’s shaking, and the bed creaks with it, and the door opens slowly, and he holds his breath until Eddie walks through.

Because Eddie walks through. His hair is cropped and his neck is scarred and his face is older. There aren’t rings or patches or buttons on leather and denim. He looks different and exactly the same, and the light from the other room floods from behind him like a halo, like he’s a ghost.

Steve knows that this can’t be his imagination, though, can’t be the effect of some spell or hypnotism or post-traumatic stress, because he’d never imagine Eddie like this. Barren.

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” Eddie says, like it’s a normal thing to say, like this is a normal thing to do, and Steve kind of wants to kill him again.

The light flickers on, bathes the room in an ugly yellow. “What did you do?”

“What?” Eddie stops short. Water spills over the rim of a glass Steve didn’t notice he was holding. “You had a panic attack and passed out. I brought you to a bed.”

Steve shakes his head. “You died! You died five years ago! What did you do? Did you make a deal with Vecna? With the guys at the lab?”

“Jesus, no!” Eddie steps forward and Steve tenses. His eyes flash, and they’re just as big and swirling as Steve remembers, but they’re dark, and he holds his other hand out, placating. Is he a vampire? Is Vecna even dead?

“Was any of it real? Is any of it over?”

Exdie crouches, and he takes off his shirt, and Steve must still be a little drunk because he stares at his chest and the curls of hair scattered around. But behind that, more clear now than it was in the club, is scarred, discolored patches of skin, poorly stitched together, healed but slowly. Painfully. The scratches and scars run lightly up his arms and his chest, up into deep pinks and reds at the base of his neck.

“I didn’t die,” Eddie says, patient, practiced, like he’d been prepared to be found out. Which begs the question: what was the fucking point? “I nearly died. I thought I died. But I didn’t.”

Steve fumes and he tries to follow and he stares at Eddie’s skin, thinks about all the people he couldn’t protect.

“We mourned you. Dustin was,” Jesus Christ, it hurts to think about, “torn in half. You let us all think you died, but you let him think you died. We would have helped you.”

Eddie stares like he’s brokenhearted, and Steve is done talking. His throat hurts and his head hurts and he’s too fucking old for this. He dares Eddie to explain himself.

•

It was 1986. Eddie Munson didn’t die.

He really did think he was going to. He’d already accepted it, and if Dustin got to live, he would have done it over and over again indefinitely. He would have relived the pain forever, and he knew it even when it was excruciating and he tasted blood and venom and whatever else.

The only thing he wouldn’t relive was Dustin’s face, dirty and tear-tracked and sobbing.

Eddie faded out and faded back in. He couldn’t open his eyes, but he heard the others come back, heard them tear Dustin off of him, heard the rumbling of thunder and the splitting of earth.

One thing Eddie learned when he was young, when his dad put his mom in the hospital, was that hearing goes last. The last moments wrapped up in loud silence.

He didn’t know if he believed in heaven, but the screams and the cracking and the laughter from Vecna sounded a lot like hell, especially when it didn’t stop. When it kept going. When he thought he was dead.

But hell seemed to spit him back out.

Didn’t want him. Go figure.

He was hardly alive, though. Alive in the sense that he was sometimes conscious and his heart was chugging, pushing blood around his body.

And eventually, in Hawkins, real Hawkins, he crawled until he ended up in the Hendersons’ backyard. He’d heard a story once, right before he died, that Dustin had taken in a little monster until it could live on its own.

It was a long shot, but he was hoping the kid would be willing to do it again.

He was.

Eddie bled sludge onto the concrete of Dustin’s cellar, and Dustin stole antiseptic and gauze and painkillers from where they were keeping Max in the hospital and from the donation drives and wherever else, Eddie never knew. He soaked needles and string in hydrogen peroxide and sewed him up in the really gnarly gashes that wouldn’t scab over, placating Eddie with whatever was in his mother’s liquor cabinet.

And it was fucking hell.

He will never remember most of it.

But as soon as he could stand upright he cut his hair short and hitchhiked to Indianappolis and took a one-way bus to California and didn’t look back.

There was no way he could. Every step was a miracle. He was a man on the run.

But nobody except his uncle knew that his name was Edwin, that his mother’s maiden name was Langley. Nobody except Rick, who’d made him a fake ID before he got sent to prison so he could run off to San Francisco after he graduated, or after Wayne got sick of him, or after shit got really bad.

And well.

It killed the poor kid, he knew it, but he hoped that knowing he was alive would lessen the blow. Even if he swore him to secrecy. The kid was loyal. Could keep a secret.

Dustin is nothing if not stubborn. Packed Eddie’s bag with a note with his home phone number and a radio frequency and a threat, a promise, to tell the police exactly where he was if he didn’t confirm proof of life at least once a month.

An extremely charming scribbled note on a piece of paper he would keep in his bedside table that read: I WILL MAKE ELEVEN FIND YOU. LIVE.

So Eddie Munson – if you asked his ID, Edwin Langley – if you asked anyone else, Winn the Mechanic – didn’t die in Upside Down Hawkins, Indiana in 1986. He laid low for five years in San Francisco, a place where people run to all the fucking time and don’t ask questions, didn’t make too much money, didn’t make too many waves.

He got rid of anything that would identify him. That was the hard part. All Eddie Munson had was his identity. Was his band and his music and his club and his loud personality. And he’d never held himself back for anyone.

He figured, though, if he was going to hold himself back for something, it would be for the teenagers who fought monsters. Maybe, he thought, this way he’ll win. There’s no other way for them to win.

Eddie knew his odds. Every day was a stealth check. And for five years he rolled high enough. It helped staying mainly sober and playing the new performance of being mysterious and quiet. Like that was a new game in itself.

And then, one day, a drunk and traumatized Steve Harrington rolled high enough on investigation to crumble the whole thing down.

•

It’s 1991. And Eddie Munson didn’t die.

He was alive when Wayne and Steve organized a pathetic little funeral for him with sticks and pins and guitar picks buried into the ground on the right-side-up of where he got attacked by the bats. He was alive when Steve and Lucas spent nights in Dustin’s room, giving them a break from the hospital room and making sure they were doing okay.

For Christ sake, he held Dustin while they mourned.

Eddie was alive when Steve sort of pieced together why he was so heartbroken. When Robin asked why he kept Eddie’s jean jacket hung on the back of his desk chair, why he didn’t bury it or give it to Wayne. He was alive when Steve was confused and tired and drove out to Indianapolis and went down on some drummer with long hair and big eyes who called him baby and pretty and gave him a warning before coming down his throat.

When Robin coined the term Munson High.

And Jesus Christ, Steve is exhausted. He’s nauseous and dizzy and hungover and his mouth tastes like shit. He’s only pretty sure this whole thing isn’t an elaborate mind game.

“I don't understand, dude,” Steve says, running the palm of his hand flat down his face.

“What don’t you understand?”

Steve kind of wants to kill him again. “Why did you have to be dead? Why didn’t you tell the rest of us? Why didn’t you tell me? We were friends!” He clears his throat. “And why the fuck did you take me home tonight knowing damn well who I was?”

Eddie counts the questions off on his fingers, formulating his thoughts, and it’s infuriating to watch. Knowing that Eddie has had five years to think about this, and Steve is falling over on himself like a fucking idiot. Blindsided.

He speaks, and for some reason it sounds the exact same as it has in Steve’s memory, and it hurts. “The town wanted me dead, man. There were people coming after me with pitchforks, no questions asked, there was no saving me. Not after Jason died. Not after it broke national news. I couldn’t be missing or sent to jail or any of that shit. I had to be dead or they would kill me. And if they couldn’t kill me, they’d kill you guys for keeping me alive.”

Steve clenches his jaw and it sends the violent sting of a migraine into his eye. “We would have done it. We needed you–”

“That’s why you guys couldn’t know. You would try to fix it. If you knew I lived, you would patch me up and take me to your magical girl’s friends with the government and they would wave their wands, but I would be public enemy number one, and that was never going to change or get better,” Eddie says, a crack in his voice like he’s frustrated, like he has a right to be. “I’ve been public enemy number one since the kids in Hawkins found out who my dad was. It never fucking changes.

“I told Dustin because I knew he wouldn’t ask me to stay after I’d already made up my mind. I didn’t tell you because I knew you would. You would have asked me to stay and I would have done anything for you back then. And now, too. I just can’t say no to you, Stevie.

“But,” he finishes, “you needed to focus on the bigger picture. If you thought there was any shot I would make it, you would have taken it, and you would have gotten yourself killed.”

Steve breathes. He can’t do much to argue with that, but the parts of it that were personal, that made Steve feel like stained glass or the open mouth of a cave, like he was something Eddie could really see, those parts are hard to swallow.

“And?”

“And,” Eddie says. “I haven’t seen you in five years and I never got to kiss you back then, I never even thought of it as a possibility. And my cover was broken and I was drinking even though I don’t do that anymore, and you asked to go home with me, Steve. I already said I can’t say no to you.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh,” Eddie relaxes into a position more familiar, barely. The ghost of a posture Steve recognizes from five years ago. He wonders if he’s still the same or different in Eddie’s eyes. “And I wouldn’t have slept with you under false pretenses, I just figured you’d rather not be in a dark little gay club when you realized I was Eddie.”

He’s a little too tired for this. A little too broken. It’s a little too much.

Steve wonders if he would feel his heart stop if it did. Or if it would just feel like the same dull ache he’s been feeling for five years. More than that. Since his world turned upside down.

“You’re stuck with me, now. You got that?”

Eddie smiles, and it’s something so massive and heart stopping and sickening that Steve worries if it’s real at all. It’s just different enough. Five years older. Relieved and real.

“Yeah,” Eddie says, waterlogged and broken and also whole.

Steve would hate to break this, but he glances at the clock and feels a tension about a fifteen minute walk away. “You’re going to have to deal with Robin, though. And Dustin is going to have to deal with me”

•

In 1996 there’s a wedding in Hawkins, Indiana.

•

It’s 1991. Steve unlocks his apartment, cramped and kind of ugly, and full of life.

“Hey Rob?”

Robin calls from her little closet room. “No honey I’m home? Where has our love gone, Stevie?”

“Uh,” he shifts by the door. “I ran into someone last night.”

“I thought you went home with that Winn guy. Did he fuck your brains out? I should have told him about your history of concussions before I let you leave…” Robin trails off when she turns one of the snug corners of their apartment and makes eye contact with them.

And Steve can only imagine how they look to her, considering everything. Steve bringing home a man who looks more like Eddie Munson than is probably healthy for him. Looking exhausted, his eyes are chapped and red from last night. And Eddie looks kind of terrified, which he should. It’s a blessing that Nancy is on the other side of the country, because Eddie would be dirt in the fucking ground, probably.

“Hi,” Robin looks Eddie up and down with so much intensity that Steve can feel the heat of it. “I’m sorry. I’m Robin. I need to steal Steve away for just one minute.”

“Robin,” Steve manages. She looks away from Eddie and gives Steve a scathing Munson High stare. It quiets him.

Eddie speaks, though. That same old voice. “Robin.”

It’s pleading, almost. And it works. Steve and Robin joke about being able to read each others’ minds, but it’s like something really happens then. Exactly how he thought she’d react: confused, and then suspicious, and then almost angry.

“What is this?”

She doesn’t give either of them a chance to respond, just walks up to Eddie and pulls on the collar of his shirt. Steve looks too: the smattering of scars, years healed over but still gnarly, raised, skin crawling over itself like veins.

There’s this little quirk in the scars on Steve’s stomach, marks that never faded, speckles of black, like shards of venom from the bats stuck inside him. They play just underneath the pale scars on Eddie’s neck. And Robin’s face breaks.

“What the hell is this?

“I’m–” Steve thinks there’s going to be an apology from Eddie, half-formed, scared and desperate in a way that tears Steve’s heart in half even though it’s only just been mended. But Robin launches forward, unsteady on her feet, wraps both arms around his neck.

“You were gone,” Robin croaks into his skin. “I saw it.”

Eddie rubs her back, and Steve’s heart lurches at the memory of her and her brave face when they found Dustin hovering over his body.

“I’m sorry.”

“How are you here? Did they–” the government, the Lab, the Russians, the creatures, “did they take you away? Are you under witness protection? Who’s Winn?”

Eddie’s voice shakes while he explains it again, and Steve shakes while he hears it again, and Robin watches and listens with her usual intensity, careful and horrified and spinning cogs in her brain while she puts the pieces together. She’s always loved a mystery. A puzzle. She asks the right questions, gets the right answers.

“You’re not going to run away again, are you?”

Steve watches Eddie’s face. This beautiful thing. It crumples the tiniest bit, and Steve’s always been attuned to these non-verbal signs, these warnings. So for a second, there’s a wet anguish in his eyes, and Robin’s fingers curl hard into his shirt like a threat, and Steve worries that whatever comes out of his mouth will be a lie.

It’s too much like 1986 and Eddie’s smiling at him, curly and beautiful, promising that he’s not a hero. Like it’s 1987 and Dustin is sitting at Eddie’s grave like he doesn’t know where he is. Like it’s 1988 and Steve on the phone with his parents, telling them things are fine. It’s 1989 and Steve is telling Robin that he’s fine. 1990: this town isn’t sucking the soul out of him, he can stay for the kids, he deserves one more year as a kid himself, he still has something to offer.

It’s 1991, and Steve knows how to lie, and he’s never been afraid of being lied to. He’s only ever been afraid of the truth.

–

In 1996 there’s a wedding in Hawkins, Indiana. There’s no big white spectacle event at the town’s once-gaudy now-dilapidated church, no priests or preachers. The bride never believed in all of that, and the rest of them haven’t bought into it for at least a decade.

It’s a small ceremony. Steve walks Max down the aisle. He whispers to her that Lucas started crying the moment he saw her, Max says she knew he would, and Steve laughs, delighted.

He drops her off and falls back into Lucas’ groomsmen line, punching him in the shoulder on the way, lands his hands on Dustin’s shoulders and squeezes.

He catches Robin’s eye on the other side of the aisle. She’s still wearing their wedding ring, but she’s playing with the lace on Nancy’s shoulder, and Nancy’s smiling in a way Steve’s never seen from her.

It’s been a decade free of evil in this town, and Steve doesn’t often come back, but it’s moments like this where Steve remembers that this was his home, once. There aren’t towns like this in California, smattered with woods, filled with people who have always known him, who he doesn’t have anything to lie about to.

Eddie’s there. He hasn’t been to Indiana since he crawled out ten years ago. He’s sitting, playing with hair he’s been growing back out for five years.

There’s a tattoo on his ring finger, now, black and sprawling.

Steve stares at it the entire time.

–

It’s 1991, and Steve is back in Eddie’s apartment. There’s a nice radio in the closet, and the two of them sit on the cool ground in front of it.

Steve hasn’t taken his eyes off of Eddie in hours, what’s felt like years. He edges closer, like Eddie is a stray, like he’ll scamper away. And Eddie at least seems to understand. Press back, knowing there’s fear that he won’t.

He’s warm. That’s one of the most jarring things.

He still remembers how cold he felt, years ago, bleeding through his clothes, through Steve’s hands.

And now he’s warm and alive and Steve wants to be burned by him. Seared. He wants Eddie so close he leaves a mark.

Eddie turns to look at him, raises an eyebrow, “ready?” And he waits for Steve to nod before he turns on the radio and plays with the frequency.

“Obi-Wan to Luke checking in…” His eyes flicker up to Steve’s. “Over.”

Steve smiles. Of course Dustin is Luke. He’s almost surprised he isn’t Han.

It takes a few seconds for Dustin to respond, undeniably him, attempting to hide his excitement in the way he’s never been able to pull off. “Luke to Obi-Wan, confirming check-in. Is everything alright? We just spoke last week. Over.”

“Just peachy, young Skywalker. Though I do have a visitor. Over.”

“Are you compromised?” Dustin’s voice crackles with his natural intense panic. “Over.”

“No,” Steve leans into the microphone, keeping all points of contact with Eddie like he’ll float away. “But you are. Over.”

There’s a bit of amusement that Steve can see in Eddie’s eye, a smile that he can’t look away from. It makes this whole thing feel less massive. Everything’s felt massive for almost ten years, and Eddie just dissipates the whole thing. Like magic. Eddie’s fucking Houdini.

“Shit.”

“You didn’t say over. Over,” Eddie says, voice light.

It’s ridiculous, all of a sudden. Easy. Even though everything is an awful disaster, it’s easy.

“Shit… Over.”

–

In 1996 they stay at the Motel 6 on Cornwallis after the reception. They slow dance in the little space next to the bed, entirely sober, both of them. Drunk off each other, almost.

They don’t sleep, because they fuck like rabbits, and because Hawkins is still a little too haunted to get real rest, and because the Motel 6 is still a piece of shit even after rebuilding it in the 90’s.

The sun rises and it stays there.

#steddie fic #steddie #stranger things #stranger things fic #tumblr fic

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ohworm-writes · 3 years

Text

#00 - Tape Zero | series masterlist

⮞ Beta Reader - @jschllatt ! thank you so much for proofreading this for me !

⮞ Pairing - Monster!Technoblade x Monster-Hunter!Reader ⮞ Summary - Everyone here seemed to hate everything you were. The way you walked, the way you talked, the way you breathed. Maybe your new assignment could change their minds about you. ⮞ Rating - Mature (SFW) ⮞ Warnings - cursing ⮞ Word Count - 2.6k ⮞ Taglist - Open! Send an Ask or DM to be added

In the abandoned casino you call home, everything smelt of lost hope. The pipes rusting, water leaking from their cracks and causing the surrounding mold to spread across the carpet beneath it. The graves of your allies were spread out across the perimeter of the building, their corpses either nowhere to be found or dug up and eaten by the beasts that had killed them. Whispers and mumbles echo from the people you could have come to call friends in another life, but their backs were turned towards you, shunning you from that sliver of a chance at a ‘normal’ life.

The sun peeked through the large windows of the building when you make your way downstairs towards the assembly hall. You yawn, mouth agape as you try to rub the remaining sleepiness out of your eyes. Waking up early was something you had to become accustomed to here, whether you liked it or not. Your hands found their way to your sides, clutching at the fabric of your shirt and pulling it close. You felt as though a single breath out of place would make these people hate you just the littlest bit more.

You knew you were the center of this minor dilemma you found yourself in. Outcasted, a funny thing, wasn’t it? To be rejected by the group you could call, what, a family? That was absurd, and yet, you long for it. They had a fair reason not to take kindly towards you. A stranger, someone nobody had ever heard of, not even a name on the side of a coffee cup, rose to the top of the hunters in their little group. You could barely hold your own before, so how come now you could kill monsters so efficiently with an arrow through the skull?

The top. Here, it meant you were the best hunter. Other social statuses didn’t matter, apart from one person, but what mattered most is that you could hold your own and protect your allies. That and that alone amounted to your worth. You and one other person had been graced with being at the top of the chain. Punz. Oh, oh he didn’t like you. No, not one bit.

You rose to your current position as one of Las Nevadas’ best hunters in a little under a week. He knew you were a skilled hunter. Hell, they assigned him to keep tabs on you when the group’s so-called ‘leader’ gained interest. But so much as this? It was frustrating, bordering infuriating. He fought for his position, bloodshed with the scars to prove it. And you? You. You went in right under his nose. You fought hard, you knew that. You put in the effort to make it to where you were in a group of strangers. Punz didn’t see it that way. Nobody in the damn place did.

The other hunters saw you as a problem, a pest. Someone as bad as the monsters they dealt with on a daily. Every time you went out on a mission, it came directly from them. Time and time again they gave you missions with the most deadly monsters, ready to celebrate the day you never came back. Hoping that one evening these solo missions would turn into your downfall. Waiting for that oh-so-sweet pager message to tell them you were gone, never to be heard from again.

As far as they knew, that message was yet to come.

With a jump off the last step, your feet collide with the carpeted flooring of the lobby. Or, as most here called it, the assembly hall. The room was filled, not completely, but as far as you knew, every member of the little ragtag group was here. You made your way to one of the adjacent walls, earning a few scowls and glares from your comrades. You brush it off; you have to, or else they’d feed off of your reaction like it was a starving man being graced with a meal. Your footsteps fall heavy as you walked, people around moving out of the way like you were the plague. That, or bumping into you, cursing at your clumsiness. It’s tiring, and yet you have to deal with it to survive.

When you finally make your way across, you lean with your back against the wall with a small sigh of relief. You note how the wood caves slightly under your weight, almost asking you to add more pressure and break through. You push the thought aside, instead of letting your eyes scan the room, taking in everything and everyone you can see. Every single person there talked within a group. Whether it was only one other person or 10 strangers you had yet to know the names of, they all have someone to share their thoughts with. Where did that leave you? Your eyes cast towards the ceiling above you, a chandelier hanging down. The golden rods allowed for the pieces of glass to hang down, reflecting the sunlight that had peeked through.

That chandelier was always something you look forward to seeing during these assembly meetings. It was your only constant. The sun shining through the windows, casting onto the glass and gold, painting little rainbows on the surrounding area. Maybe you admire it because you never saw one up in person before, maybe you like how it was high out of your reach. Maybe you would never know why you like it, but you still did.

“People!” A familiar voice shouts from your far left, the voices of everyone around you diminishing into silence, looking with awe at the man who spoke. They all knew, of course, so did you. You turn your attention towards him, the man everyone calls their leader.

Quackity.

Who would have thought the shorty that ran the recruitment center would be the leader? You squint your eyes, trying to see him better from the distance you stood at. He wore the same thing every day, a white button-up, rolled to his elbows, black slacks, and suspenders. He didn’t look intimidating; he didn’t look important, and yet everyone here treated him like a god. It was annoying, but you’d have to continue dealing with it. You didn’t want to lose your tongue for speaking out of place, now did you?

Next to him stood Punz. That bastard was like a personal plaything for Quackity. When he’s bored? Call the man to entertain him. When he’s threatened? Order him to kill the offender. When he’s on his last breath? Take everything from him and leave him to rot. What could he do, argue? That was laughable. Quackity ruled over the casino. There was no question about it. He ruled over Las Nevadas. He. Ruled.

Both of their eyes met yours, Punz’s glare more intense towards you than usual, and Quackity’s smile widening, the scar through his lip making it more menacing. They were a full story above you, peering off of the balcony at you. As quick as their glances met yours, they left, turning to the others in the crowd. Punz stood a foot behind Quackity, the man in question leaning over the railing with his arms spread out wide.

“My people! Another beautiful day in our home, wouldn’t you say?” His rhetorical question was met with cheers and joyful cries. You notice how it seems to only fuel his ego. How sad. His hands meet his head, readjusting his dark blue beanie, moving a piece of dark hair that had escaped underneath it. “I’m sure you’re bored with me saying the same thing every day.” He says, voice loud as it echoes through the open room. Nobody spoke. You knew he liked it like that. All the attention on him.

He stands up straight, laughing lightheartedly whilst backing away from the railing and instead of walking along the side of it. “No, I’m sure you all have no problem with it.” A few scattered cheers voice their agreement, you notice how Quackity visibly stiffens. Poor bastards, you think, they wouldn’t make it tomorrow with that interruption. He clears his throat once more, the room quiet again. “We have a busy day today! We have leaks on the second floor that need fixing, a few easy pests that need to be taken care of in the garden, and our hunters have new assignments.” You perk up at the talk of assignments, your attention set on him more than before. “Hunters, you know the drill.”

You did. You push off of the wall, walking towards the front. A few people surrounding you decide to move out of your way now, all of them. The crowd parts like the Red Sea, letting you and the hunters around walk past without trouble. Two hunters on your left, three to your right, four behind. There were ten of your total, which wasn’t too bad, but it just added to the number of people that didn’t take a liking to you. You keep your pace quick, walking up to the fold-out table that sat below Quackity’s balcony.

A woman and a man stand behind it, both dressed in yellow vests. The table has ten manilla folders on it, names written in marker to indicate whose is whose. The hunters around you rush forward, some pushing into you as they pass by. You sigh, bringing one of your hands to your neck to rub it. They did this every day. Quackity’s voice booms above you as he speaks. “Everyone else is welcome to breakfast now. Let’s make this day productive, people!” The crowd behind you cheers as you reach the empty table, taking the folder in your empty hand. Your eyes scan the folder, your name written neatly like the rest.

The two across from you at the table stay quiet as they watch you, both glaring, but the man’s softer. You look up from it at them, sending them a nod as you make your way to your room. You hold it with two hands now, seeing how the folder is thicker than the others you had previously received. As you go to flip open the top, a hand finds itself on your shoulder.

“Ayyy, Y/n.” You groan internally as the hand pats you twice before retreating. You turn around to face Quackity, giving him a forced smile. “Quackity. A pleasure to see you.” He was always a pain to deal with in person. “8-Ball today? What happened to the prosthetic Mr. Andrews found last week?” His lips quirk up into a grin, the white circle of the 8-Ball in his right eye looking straight through you. It was… unnerving. He chuckled, bringing his hand up to motion for you to follow him as he turns around.

You’re hot on his heels as you walk behind him, walking towards his office. “It was irritating, I’ll be honest. This one has some kinda... intimidating aura to it, don’t you think?” You hum at him, folder pressed to your chest as you walk. Your footsteps are out of sync with him, you notice. You subconsciously try to match them. “You know, talk more with the people here” He tries to tease, looking over his shoulder at you, watching you roll your eyes.

“You know more than anyone they don’t take kindly to me.” You comment, feeling his eyes on you as you look up at him. He sighs exasperatedly, looking ahead as he reaches a metal red door, his pace slowing. You stop behind him as he pulls out a chain with numerous keys on it, a loud clinking coming from it as he looks through them. There had to be over twenty keys on it, if that. He noticed your eyes on it, of course he did. “There are so many damn keys to this place, it’s nuts.”

You hum again, watching as he unlocks the door and clips the chain to his belt once more. He pushes it open with both of his hands, walking in as it begins to shut on you. You hurry and push it open, looking around his office as you step in, closing it behind you. It was pretty minimal, with a few bookshelves, a desk, and a little lounge area in the back. “Nice office.” You comment, following him, bringing the hand holding the folder to your side.

“Yeah, I’ll cut the shit now. That good for you?” That was different, but not surprising. “Yeah, sure.” He stops at his desk, turning and sitting on the ledge, his hands on his knees as he sits up straight. “Pass the folder here, let me show you what you’re dealing with.” You oblige with him, passing him the folder. You look at his hands, his fingers scarred and rough. Interesting.

He flips it open and sets it onto the wooden desk, letting the contents spread across the length of the desk. Several sheets of paper were spread out, pages upon pages of info, the text smaller as to fit more words in the pages. What caught your eye the most, though, was the first sheet of paper. A photograph was clipped to the corner, a semi-blurry image of a pig-like creature. “The… Blade?”

“Bastard is what he is.” Quackity comments, stepping back to let you look down at the papers. He sits on the corner of the desk, hands now placed behind his as he looks over his shoulder at the papers. You take two steps forward, fingers drifting from one page to another. “There seems to be a lot about this one.” You remark, taking a random page in your hands as you read its contents under your breath.

“Upon further inspection, it seems the beast relates to that of a Piglin creature. While they are moderate-level monsters, this one seems to be an evolved breed of them. Its reflexes are quick, and it’s undoubtedly strong. Previous notes about the breed tell that they are very territorial and are naturally aggressive to those who aren’t their breed.”

You can feel Quackity tense beside you, so you call him out on it. “What’s on your mind?” He sighs, but you don’t look at him, eyes still trained on the papers. He’s quiet for a moment, and you almost don’t think he’s going to answer you. But he does. “That asshole was the one who gave me this scar.”

Now that, that surprised you. Your brows raised, then furrowed as you came across a note over the top of one paper. “Says here nobody has survived facing him.” He almost growls at you, you hear the rumble in his throat, but he ends up sighing again. “I was lucky, wasn’t I.”

That’s for damn sure. If what these papers were saying was true, this was the most difficult monster that the group has faced to date. “So, it’s a suicide mission.” You say, swiping the papers back into the folder. They were trying to kill you. He laughs at that. Not his normal, unsettling chuckle, but a hearty laugh. “No no no, you got it all wrong. I think you are the only one that can kill him.”

You stop everything. Your hands come to a halt. Your breathing stops. You stop. “What?” “I said.” He replies, pushing off the desk and leaning close to you, feeling his breath on the shell of your ear. “You are the only person here that can kill him.” Your eye twitches. “Why not Punz? Or, a group of the other hunters? Why am I the one that can kill him?” He smiled, this time it was soft, sincere.

“Because you’re you.”

⮞ Previous Tape ⮞⮞⮞ ⮞ Next Tape

⮞ Technoblade Route Taglist - @mega-trash-cringe @jaciahbabes @ura-writes @sunshinebutnorainbows @dominickle @valkyrieidunn

⮞ Author’s Note - With that, we begin. Buckle up for the ride of a lifetime folks, it’s going to be bumpy.

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youryanderedaddy · 3 years

Note

Hello, do you accept order? If yes, you could make a single one shot of Yandere! Brat Spoiled, please...

What would it be like if Yandere were the son of wealthy parents who always have everything they want, when they don't always get what they like, always act like a spoiled brat (and also his parents are afraid of their son, as they have already seen what he is capable of when he gets angry)... that's where the reader comes in. She is a new student at school, a nice and kind person, so the yandere knows her and falls in love so strongly that she never felt that way in life, but the reader is always rejecting her advances for being a spoiled brat and the way he treats the people around you.

What happens next?

Title: Eat the poor

Tw: non - consensual touching, obsessive/possessive behavior, violence, low-key bullying, blackmail / coercion, reader is in university

Part 2

It had started during your very first year of college, back when you still felt motivated to go to school and meet new people. You had heard the rumors about him before ever meeting his gaze and oh, did they disappoint.

You met Gabrielle for the first time when the snowdrops bloomed and the birds returned home – in the early autumn, at night, in a small crowded room reeking of alcohol, sweat and cheap cologne which you quickly realized wasn’t his. The man smelt like the cigarettes he never got bored of and sweet caramel. He was wearing a big leather jacket and a pair of dark jeans, yet the simplicity of the outfit seemed to suit the expensive brands displayed on the clothing. In a way the student represented the typical youthful boyish beauty with his golden locks, eyes the color of the sky and frame tall and well – built. Yet his face remained motionless the whole night and his body stayed still despite the mass of bodies dancing around in rhythm. But then some poor unfortunate fool managed to bump into the male, spilling his drink all over him, and his pretty face quickly twisted into a mask of disgust and anger.

“You stupid piece of shit!” The male yelled shortly after as his fist connected with the stuttering boy’s stomach. His clear eyes were now two wild thunderstorms pouring rain and lightning over the tipsy guy who was nervously apologizing and promising to pay for the damages done. “Do you know how much this costs?” Gabrielle spat with venom and pushed the other onto the floor, bringing his black sneakers to that white shirt until there was a mark of dirt formed on the otherwise clean fabric. Everyone else in the room had stopped drinking now and all the eyes were pinned onto the two men yet no one had the courage to do anything. Your own heart was beating hard in your chest at the sudden display of unnecessary violence but you had always been a calm kid, a kind soul too scared of its own shadow to learn how to fight properly. So you had no idea what to do.

“My father can have you expelled, you know.” The blond man suddenly spoke out in a quiet eerie voice as he pressed his foot harder into the shorter boy’s stomach causing him to whimper and squirm. “Unless you are willing to beg for my forgiveness, that is.” The bully proposed with a sly smirk on his pink lips as he glared at the victim underneath. The student on the ground was clenching his eyes tight so no one could see the tears in them when he shook his head no. You finally decided you couldn’t let this inhumane scene go any further.

“Stop this madness right now!” You shouted manically, drawing all the attention to yourself as you made your way between the two men. Gabrielle immediately pinned his burning gaze on you in unhidden intrigue. “This is too cruel. He didn’t mean to bump into you. Please, leave him alone.” As much as you had wanted to curse at the spoiled rich boy there was this suffocating feeling in your lungs telling you to be careful and play the mediator. The others quickly started gasping and some were already gossiping at your reaction proving your point that the guy was indeed dangerous.

Then he looked you straight in the eyes with his deep blue ones. He chuckled softly before smacking his lips in an unpleasant way, his “tsk” sending shivers down your spine. You had fucked up. “Well, well, well… Looks like the new girl wants to play hero. How cliché.” The bully grinned as he let his gaze roam up and down your body, your cheeks turning red in return when having realized he was handsome even while doing something so vulgar. “But if you do want to help him so badly…” The golden – haired man paused for a moment pretending to be deep in thought. “Maybe we could have a little deal, bunny.” He moved his leg away from the sobbing boy and stepped in front of you. From this close you could feel the warmth of his skin and the sweet aroma of burnt sugar it radiated. Gabrielle tilted your chin up almost gently and whispered in your ear “Kiss me.”

You tried to break free from the uncomfortable pose but the student simply squeezed your jaw line harder, his eyes cold and calculating, following your every move. You mind went blank and foggy at the forced intimacy and you couldn’t think straight with his breath on your neck. It felt like the time had slowed down just so the sadistic snob could mess with you a little longer. You opened your mouth to voice your protests but fortunately you didn’t have to say anything because at the very same time the host of the party appeared, ready to stop the fight.

“Gabrielle, I’d have to ask you to leave.” The dark – haired junior growled enraged as he pushed the taller male away from you. You couldn’t help but smile at him in appreciation. He was the only one brave enough to help you after all. “You are ruining the party for everyone. ” The stranger continued. The blonde seemed irritated at the sudden interruptance yet it was obvious he was powerless against the owner of the house. Still he grit his teeth and signed in annoyance as he turned to face the host. “Fuck you, Jackson!” The man cursed but eventually moved towards the door, red with anger. “My father will hear about this.” He looked at you as he reached for the golden doorknob, his features softened. “See you around, bunny.”

This was the first time you met Gabrielle. You already wished it was the last.

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

After the incident the snob seemed interested in you, blatantly so. He would eye you up in the halls like you were a shiny new toy in a claw machine and try to strike a conversation no matter how much you ignored him. The man never once apologized for what happened at the party but at least he didn’t bring it up so you counted it as a small victory. You gradually understood just how much power and money the heir had. His father owned casinos, hotels, banks and apparently even the university you two were studying in received major monthly donations by the big businessman. This explained why everyone was so scared of the blonde, especially when he did nothing but flaunt his status at the slightest inconvenience. And now he wanted you.

In your eyes the boy was just an annoying brat who lived off daddy’s hard work, there really wasn’t much to him that intrigued you. The male was handsome, pretty even, but his grades were terrible and his interests were bland and shallow, mostly involving expensive brands and grand parties. But the worst thing about him was his personality. The snob treated his friends like servants and his enemies like dirt, but you he rather saw as a challenge. Gabrielle would ask you out every time you were unlucky enough to run into him. The first time the man gave you so many roses you couldn’t even count them, the second he demanded your affection with a silver necklace in hand ready to cover your neck in his mark of ownerships. You couldn’t recall all the other gifts the blonde used to try and court you with but you remembered refusing each and every one.

“Why can’t you just give me a chance?” He exclaimed one day after you had just returned the expensive bracelet you had found in your locker. It was a dark winter night and the heir seemed irritated with you for the first time, his eyes a deep electric blue just like the sky. The man had you cornered against the wall but you were used to his pathetic attempts at intimidation. Yet today there was something different in the air around him, some small voice at the back of your head wondered whether this time he wasn’t just joking around. “Are you still angry about that little wimp I expelled, bunny?” Gabrielle asked contemptuously yet his pupils remained cold and distant. Once again he was too close for your liking, too close for you to function properly, but that was probably exactly what he wanted. You to be compliant and obedient like all the others who crawled and kneeled at the very sight of him. “Or are you sulking because I beat up Jones after he asked you out, hmm?” What? The blonde man was the one who gave Tony the black eye? But he had told you it was just a street fight… Why had your friend covered for the bully you both hated?

“Why would you do that to him?” You whispered, staring at the twisted boy in front of you. Your heart was beating fast and your blood was boiling hot in your veins but you couldn’t let him win by showing him how much his actions affected you. Gabrielle reached out and cupped your cheek gently before smirking mischievously. “He was trying to take something that belonged to me.” The heir said casually as if he was talking about the weather. His fingers were cold against your warm skin and you fought the urge to vomit right then and there. “I am not yours.” You spat out with poison and pushed his hand away from your face. Next thing you know his knee was separating your thighs, lifting your short black skirt up, his breath lingering on your neck. “S-stop.” You stuttered and tried to squirm out of his hold but the man easily caught your wrists and brought them above your head, pinning you further into the wall. He was stronger than he looked and you felt so small and helpless in that moment you could have cried if your stubbornness hadn’t prevailed.

“What don’t you like about me?” The blonde suddenly spoke out, his voice unnaturally broken and needy, bordering on a whine, crying out in desperation. You weren’t sure whether he was trying to manipulate you now or if he actually wanted you to answer so you decided to be honest anyways. “I hate the way you treat other people. I could never love someone as cruel as you.” You inhaled deeply, ready to voice all the painful thoughts you had kept inside since the beginning of the semester. “You are spoilt rotten. Metaphorically and literally.” The man was breathing sharply like a wounded animal after hearing your words and as much as you wanted to sympathize with him, you couldn’t bring yourself to after everything he had done to you and your friends. He was irredeemable. “Let me go.” You finally demanded, hoping to use him weakened emotional state to your advantage.

Instead Gabrielle clenched his teeth and squeezed down harder on your already bruised wrists causing you to whimper in dull pain. His eyes were wet but the tears had finally stopped just like his willingness to show you his vulnerable side. The man had tried being nice and sweet to you, patient, then mean and patronizing, and neither worked. So obviously it was time to become the terrifying bratty monster everyone was so keen on believed he was.

“Have you noticed how many people seem to go missing after talking to you just once?” The heir whispered in your ear as his free hand traveled down to your waist, drawing you into his hard chest. You groaned at the sudden realization that the snob was actually right, less and less guys seemed to show up to your shared lectures in the last few months, but you had always assumed they just needed a break from school. University was stressful after all. “Did you…” You started off but couldn’t find the right words. Did you force your father to expel them? Did you harm them? Maybe a part of you didn’t want to know the answer. “I did.” Gabrielle responded before you could even finish the sentence. The sly smirk you knew way too well adorned his lips and it wasn’t hard to see he had already won. “And I will keep doing it until you agree to be mine and mine alone.” The man stated confidently as he sucked the sensitive skin of your neck until you arched your back in shock, your eyes rolling up to the ceiling. “N-nhgg.” You whimpered as you felt his teeth dig into your warm flesh leaving a scarlet mark for all to see. “Come on, baby, we both know you are too good to let them suffer because of your own selfishness.” He taunted you as he left a line of small wet kisses along your exposed collarbone. You wanted to argue, to yell at him how you weren’t the crazy, selfish one, but deep down you knew it was pointless. Gabrielle had power and you had nothing to bargain with. He could have anyone yet he wanted to torment you. “Give into me. I promise I can make you happy if you let me.” The blonde uttered softly as his lips brushed against yours, almost touching them, following your reaction with his clear eyes. Your own were puffy and red from the tears but he didn’t seem to care much about your misery and discomfort. The man wished to own, not to please, but you couldn’t do anything. And of course you wouldn’t let him ruin the lives of the innocent. Of course your stupid heart was too good and human for your own good. So you closed your eyes and slowly connected your lips with him even though they tasted almost metallic, like blood and defeat.

“I knew you would come around, bunny.”

#yandere #male yandere x reader #yandere male x reader #yandere oc x reader #yandere male #yancore #yandere oneshot #yandere oc #male yandere #yandere concepts

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benjaminsblog · 3 years

Text

Past week

I had a very busy but very productive week, seeing most of my favourite people along the way:

On Saturday I went to Josh's, where we started a Madden career with the Denver Broncos, playing alongside eachother. We completed two seasons, and after a "rebuilding year" in season 1 we narrowly missed out on the playoffs the following season (though the main reason for that is we simmed away matches, which rarely worked in our favour). It provided just the right amount of challenge, with most of our wins being hard-fought and well-earned.

I then saw Mum on Sunday, and stepped in to play a doubles with her (in matching kit of course) and a couple of her tennis pals; I tempered my level a little but we had an enjoyable two hours, sharing two sets before Mum and I won the deciding championship tie-break. We came home and made risotto (Homer Simpson drooling sounds), before heading to the cinema to see No Time To Die, which looked beautiful but didn't really 'wow' me - I still think Casino Royale is the best one.

I stayed at Hannah's that evening as we had some precious cargo to collect from Heathrow the following morning - namely our dad! A very happy reunion was had and then we dropped him off at Parkside (cue more happy reunions). Over the next couple of days Hannah and I came back to help him tick various things off his checklist, and we accomplished an awful lot in such a short space of time. Whilst I was staying at Hannah's we discovered a new quiz/game show called 'House of Games', which kept us entertained - partly because of the interesting rounds (look out Christmas-quizzers) but equally because a number of the celebrities on it were so dense that they had us in fits!

Today (Friday) I drove to Cheltenham for more gee-gees, and squeezed in a visit to my ertswhile flatmate Will, who haunts this area - I came over to his house and five hours flew by as we caught up. We ordered pizza, but after Will got an email saying it had been delivered when it hadn’t, he rang up to query this. It took him two attempts however, as he managed to ring his own mobile number that was on the confirmation email! He said the last few numbers seemed familiar to him but lawd knows how you type in your own phone number without realising it. The pizza came shortly after, and we capped the night off by watching Con Air - quite possibly my favourite bad movie.

Good week.

#Maddenness #full kit w-#No Time To Die #you can't treat a DB5 like that and expect me to enjoy your movie #it's nice to have you back #ANSWER SMASH!#shillinguine #toffeefifofum!#there's no 'i' in 'idiot'#nice to see Chiu again #he’s got the whole world in his hands #Con Air mate

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kadeu · 3 years

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Accepted — Han Cassius

♦️ Cassius Han looks like Bang Chan (straykids) ♦️ He was born October 23, 1997; making him 23 years old ♦️ This Human is Bisexual and a Six of Diamonds ♦️ He is a croupier (dealer) at the Koromo in the Circle

Biography

tw: child abandonment

All tales begin knowing that one day they must eventually end. Some tales speak of heroic adventures and battles hard fought between dragons and foes, while other tales are nothing but steeled resignation to a life lived mundane until the pages finally close shut. Cas’ story is like that. It’s not yet over, but he knows that by the end nothing will have changed, and he’ll be just as insignificant as when he was first born.

In October of 1997, Cassius Han is born into the Diamond faction a mundane lowranking human, not an ounce of magic-wielding ability in his blood. From the best of his knowledge, he is descended from nothing but generations upon generations of lowborn and low ranked humans, barely a blip in the periphery of Kadeu’s recorded history. His existence is almost pointless really, but that’s not a fact he learns until far later.

At the beginning, Cas knows nothing but love and warmth. Knows what it must feel like to fly as his father hoists a young Cas up onto his shoulders after the brightness of day has faded into the darkness of night. His father tells Cas to look up at the stars and reach for the ones that shine the brightest, laughing as he watches his son’s tiny hands eagerly grasp for the constellations dotting the sky. Cassius also knows what it must feel like to believe you’re the centre of the universe, important beyond belief as his mother wipes away stray hairs from his face and kisses his forehead every night before bed. She whispers sweet nothings of fairy-tale dreams set in some reality far far away, making Cas feel as if every fantasy he’s ever imagined is conceivable.

As a child, Cas knows nothing of the limitations that face humans in this realm, knows only that should he wish upon the stars hard enough, there is nothing he cannot achieve.

However, all picture-perfect storybooks must come to an end, and eventually Cassius’ does too.

After several weeks of uncharacteristic distance between the boy and his father, Cassius’ world shifts in the span of one night, tilting the axis which Cassius had so peacefully spun around until that very point in time. It happens when his mother isn’t home. His father sits Cassius at the table, a firm hand on the boy’s shoulder when he asks what Cassius’ dreams are and then proceeds to dismantle every last one of them until there’s not a star in the sky that Cassius thinks is attainable. Because Cas is, “just a human, an insignificant human – irrelevant to the gods and the stars up above”.

(It’s the last thing that Cassius hears from his father before the man disappears).

And just like that, the storybook begins to crumble.

The façade that Cassius’ mother built following his father’s departure doesn’t last long, and soon enough she’s shattered beyond repair; the proverbial cracks near the corners of her mouth far too severe even to support the smallest of encouraging smiles. Without warning, on a warm summer’s day, the pair move across town to a grand household where Cassius’ life becomes not his own but another’s. Here, he addresses the master of the house as “Sir”, and Sir addresses Cassius as something closer to “Cashius”, never bothering with the correct pronunciation.

Retrospectively, little Cassius should have anticipated the later fall of his mother. She becomes increasingly distant, the room they reside in gradually becoming so devoid of speech the air inside feels as frigid as a crypt. When he’s thirteen, she leaves. Or, well, she’s kicked out, waifish frame disappearing into the inky darkness of a winter’s night while Sir mutters something under his breath along the lines of “good riddance”.

She never even says goodbye.

At some point thereafter, Sir seemingly takes Cassius under his wing, sitting him down at the table nightly and teaching him card games; reminding Cassius that he ought to be thankful the man is teaching him such an important skill when his mother had squandered the “kindness” that Sir had bestowed upon them both. (It’s not until he’s grown does Cassius understand the weight of those tiny pills his mother took every day). There’s a specific sheen to the man’s eyes that tells Cassius the man sees him as nothing more than a charity case, a simple way to self-aggrandise when he gathers his friends on the weekends and tells them the heroic tale of how he’s taken it upon himself to care for this poor orphaned magicless human.

And Cassius abhors the flagrant ego-stroking masquerade of the entire “kindness”, but he yearns for knowledge and the unspoken promise of escape more than he desires to shove the man’s words back down his throat. So he fashions his very own façade instead. Cassius smiles and praises the man, tells him just how terribly kind and brilliantly intelligent he is, thanking him as a grateful puppy would upon receiving an unwarranted treat.

The act does not fail to reap its own rewards.

A “charitable benefactor” to the end, the man leverages what connections he has and eventually finds Cassius a position working at the Circle, setting the boy free from his service once he has worked his way up to the position of a card dealer. It’s a conflicting feeling, to resent the man for his unabashed self-serving pity, yet inexplicably grateful for the luck he’s found himself inheriting as a result of their unbalanced relationship. But in the end, it doesn’t matter how Cassius feels about it all. His façade is well built, and he provides the man with endless words of praise and thanks for all that he has done for him, because even as a free man, that is their relationship: one of serf and lord.

Fast forward a few years and at the end of it all, this is the man that Cassius has become:

Now a six of diamonds, Cassius works as a croupier at the Koromo. Skilled at small talk, flashing a charming smile, and mesmerising cardistry to impress the table should they ask, perhaps his unwanted connection had provided him the opportunity, but skill alone had earned Cassius his position and he’s proud of that fact. It’s a good position for a human, he’s protected while he’s on the job and that’s more than most professions care to offer. Sure, other casinos that cater to a far more limited audience might be considered “better”, but Cassius is more than happy to avoid exclusively serving the upper echelons of society in favour of including individuals closer in rank to him. Those whose futures are not so disparate from his own.

Others might wonder, or even anticipate the great potential their future might hold, so assured that the future ahead is bright, but Cassius is well-aware he’s reached his peak in society. Face the facts: most humans are serfs, the lucky ones work in lowranking job positions, and the rest are forced into arranged marriages and used as tools to produce offspring. (The unluckiest ones live their lives as pets, something Cassius finds unfathomably degrading). There isn’t much to be excited about as a human in Kadeu. Yes, blessed with his father’s words that incessantly remind him just how insignificant he and his dreams are, Cassius lives life as a pessimist, unable to even hope for more. His mother’s descent and society itself only serves to reaffirm this engraved schema, Cassius morbidly confident that one day he too will fall and end up just as miserable as his parents.

Indeed, as a human, where was there to go in society but down? Sure, other dealers from the heart faction were a rank higher than he was, but Cassius would never rise higher than that, would never be a face card because who in their right mind would readily accept a human in a position of that much power? There isn’t really any place left for Cassius to go up, so that leaves down as the final option, a fact which Cassius is well-aware of.

However, in private Cassius is a secret dreamer. Sometimes he catches himself wishing for more than he can ever have, wishing that where he is now wasn’t the peak of his life, but rather the beginning of something grand like in the stories he was told as a child. Cassius tries not to let these thoughts slip out, they’re dreams of futures he will never have, and wanting what you cannot have will lead you to nothing but unhappiness. Dreams, no matter how you look at it, are poison. You swallow just a drop, and that one drop multiplies over and over until you’re drowning in your own delusions of a life you can never achieve. They’re insidious, but Cassius can’t truthfully claim to have vanquished them all.

When it comes to matters of society and politics, it’s practically in Cassius’ job description to outwardly ignore the tension between factions, as individuals from any faction may be his customer. Behind closed doors however, Cassius tends to watch from afar with amused fascination, knowing full-well that he’ll never have much of a say in it all, and that it’s easier to simply accept what will happen, will happen. He sees political ongoings more as uncontrollable events, almost like the weather.

Despite his prominent position as a croupier, for the most part Cassius tries to keep to himself and remain unnoticed by those around him. In his experience, attention seeds trouble, and trouble is the last thing that Cas wants to find himself in. Existing as a human without magic in a place clearly not meant for him places Cas and his rank (which is relatively high for humans) in a precarious position, wherein it probably wouldn’t take much more than a minor infraction to send him toppling back to the bottom. So rather than placing himself in situations where he might be forced to bite the hand that feeds him (or rather, the hand that he simply exists within the grasp of), Cassius prefers to avoid attention all together.

In line with his trouble-avoidant nature, although Cassius may agree with some of the resistance’s values, he doesn’t want anything to do with them and the chaos they might bring. However, at the same time Cas isn’t going to go out of his way to actively oppose the resistance. Surviving as a human in society is already difficult as it is, so he’d rather avoid getting on the bad side of the resistance, essentially an understated fifth faction. In a similar manner, although he does not openly display any aversion to higher ranked individuals, Cas is admittedly more reluctant to befriend highrankers; painfully cognisant of the fact that they hold too much power, and he, too little. (Not to mention highranker’s politics. Terribly messy).

Personality

A croupier (dealer) at the Koromo located in Heart territory’s casinos, Cassius (or, Cas) is proficient in card tricks and skills, willing to show off his cardistry for those who ask nicely. Catch him on the job and you’ll find him nothing but cordial regardless of your rank or faction, a trait that extends to outside encounters. As a non-magic imbued lowranking human, he figures this is the highest in society’s ranking he will probably ever go, and he’s determined to keep his position for as long as he can. To Cassius, this equates to being as amiable as possible to avoid provoking a powerful party. This easy-to-get-along-with façade extends to strangers across all factions and ranks as Cassius recognises the immediate threat that highrankers (from any faction) might pose, and likewise, the potential threat that midrankers and lowrankers could pose should they one day outrank him. Indeed, upon first meeting Cassius may be kind, but rarely is his initial kindness genuine. In fact, seldom is the Cassius you first meet as a stranger anywhere near a genuine representation of him as a person.

(His unspoken opinion of highrankers? “I may be a miserable human, but at least my ego isn’t inflated beyond repair”)

As opposed to his external behaviour, from a shallow standpoint, internally Cassius is ambivalent to those of his own faction, finding many of them rather arrogant but otherwise tolerable. With those from the Hearts faction, he approaches them with a degree of caution, knowing that he can have a good time with a Heart, but never should he trust them near his coins. Cassius holds a neutral indifference towards Spades, simply finding them a little too high-strung for his taste. Concerning Clubs, although knowing that he is unlikely to be physically involved with any of them, Cassius finds himself subtly wary of members from the faction, well-aware of the high mortality humans face there.

Generally, Cassius carries an assured air of confidence with him despite his almost crippling pessimism that has him convinced there is nowhere left for him to go in the future but down. (Although, perhaps he is not as pessimism as he presents himself to be, spending a surprising amount of energy arduously trying to extinguish his own hopes and dreams rather than risk nurturing them). Touting about his own well-built façade, Cassius is perceptive, quick to anticipate what others want to hear from him and providing them with just that while keeping his own true opinions and thoughts locked away. However, that doesn’t mean he’s above sneaking a few underhanded comments in here and there, you might find yourself looking back at a previous interaction with him and realising that a compliment he paid you was significantly more affronting than you realized.

Despite providing an ingenuine kindness to strangers, he does have moments of true kindness with the few trustworthy people he calls friends, willing to do just about anything for those he genuinely cares about. That isn’t to say his friends are treated to kindness alone. Cas rarely sugar-coats his opinions when he’s with people he trusts, highly valuing blunt truth when so much of his public persona is a façade. Further, some may find themselves pleasantly surprised to unearth a rather playful version of Cas once they become closer, the croupier enjoying his fair share of teasing banter when comfortable. (Occasionally, those close to the croupier might even witness Cas when he’s flustered, ears tinted red and palms raised to hide his “unbecoming expression”. Testimony has it that the entire thing is rather endearing and almost… cute?)

Congratulations Chun your app has been accepted and your first plot drop will be sent to you soon.

Please follow and welcome @croupiex to Kadeu!

#follow;#accepted;#diamonds

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hazbinextgeneration · 3 years

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Into The Casino Ch16

(WARNING: Fight scenes including hair pulling and a death is contained within this chapter as well as past abuse mentioned. If this makes you uncomfortable please don't read. You have been warned.) What happened on the way home was..Well...Interesting to say the least. The strange warm feeling in his chest still hadn't gone away even after they were leaving. The gal feeling exhausted enough to fall asleep against his shoulder and ONLY because he was a gentleman, he wrapped an arm around her and allowed her to lean against him on the way home. Cyber was a little confused on his silence and the face he made as he glanced out the window on the way back, but she chalked it up to him calculating about the new possible deals he could make or perhaps maybe he was thinking about how to con someone over again. He had that hard thinking face over him and it was best to let him think at times. So she didn't argue when the limo finally stopped in front of their home, and he lightly shook the sleeping beauty awake. Her purple eyes blinking and she yawned tiredly, and he told Cyber to go take her back and make sure she got some rest. Thankfully Leaving Minight in charge with Disease following her orders was a grand idea. No harm was done to the place while they were gone. ....Sleep didn't come easy to him that night surprisingly but he managed. The next day was like it didn't even happen. In fact it was very normal. He got up, gave the usually orders to everyone who would get their assignments from him and told her the small list of personal things he needed her to be done that day. Which included cleaning out his office, but he made sure that all the valuable souls were very well secured and locked away where only he or Cyber could retrieve them. She smiled brightly and agreed as usually before trotting on her merry way...but this time that small warm feeling returned...he shrugged it off and continued onto the floor with Cyber. Business as usually.

Except the day after that the small feeling happened again. And again. And Again. And again. AND AGAIN!! Before he knew it nearly a month had passed with that strange small warm feeling in his chest was still there whenever he spoke to her, but he simply ignored it as he had better things to get done. Until one day he had a knock at the office door. He looked to the door for a moment before looking back down to the papers in his hands.

"Come in. Door's open." Well the door did open and in stepped the timid creature. He was a bit surprised she of all people would come in at this time of day, but he gave that famous smile none the less. "Aw, Pet.~ Hello, my dear. What can I do for you today? Is Disease bothering you again?"

She didn't answer straight away, but still gave a small smile. "N-No. I actually wanted to ask you something.''

"Ask away my dear! Im always happy to hear from you." Her question wasn't really something he would be expecting.

As she sheepishly rubbed her arm and looked everywhere but him. "A-Actually, I-I was wondering if you'd ever want to go dancing with me again s-sometime. I-It was really fun and I-" She looked back to him with a small smile. "I think..I want t-to get to know you better."

Well...that certainly was unexpected, but that just meant more progress! So he happily grinned politely as her sweet offer to him. "Darling. Of course! I would be delighted to spend time with you." His red eyes glanced to the grandfather on the otherside of the office before glancing back to her. "Tell you what. Why don't you join me for tea in an hour? We'll have plenty of time to talk then."

Her ears perked up with a bigger smile. "R-Really? S-Sure. I'd really like that."

He chuckled. "Very well then. In the meantime, do be a dear and fetch me another cup of coffee, will you? This business deal won't straighten itself out."

She happily agreed and he was eventually rewarded with a new steaming mug of coffee and he was happily looking through the papers he held within his hands as the clock clicked away on the wall across from them. Instead of leaving as soon as she gave him the mug, she stayed and looked curiously to the papers he held with innocent naivity. Oh it made him chuckle.

"What are you dealing with this time?" An innocent enough question.

"The owner of the winery next door has offered to sell it to me, but getting a hold of him is as easy as putting a fire out with gas." Which meant it wasn't easy at all. What could the fool possibly be doing that was so much more important than selling him the dam place if he offered in the first place?!

She made an 'oh' and blinked back to him. "Well I think it'd be a great addition to the casino."

"Is that right?"

She nodded. "Absolutely! With your business managing skills I bet you could connect the two easily. Maybe even open up a second larger bar inside it. Those are pretty popular as I've heard." Her brows furrowed in thought. "But maybe not make it so smoke ridden or blast that ridiculous excuse for music around, not a lot of people like those places. By the looks of all your friends at the party I'd say a few of them would pay a pretty penny to have one place around here that wasn't so....exotic like Rita's." She didn't even notice Lou had stopped midway through a sip and looked up at her. "With Midnight's potion making, you could probably even make your own brand and sell it too! Plus if you expanded the winery to double the size and enhanced the magical power of turning grapes into wine, I bet you'd get a lot more customers. A lot of people would like real authentic wine made from real grapes like on the surface instead of..how did Disease put it? 'Cheap gunk water'? And since you'd be able to grow your own grapes and own the brewery, you'd be able to make yourself some as well with no cost at all." She turned to him with a smile but paused seeing his face. "Oh..I-Im sorry. W-Was I talking too much?"

"..No. No actually. All those sounds like marvelous ideas!" He smiled before sipping that bitter tasting drink.

"Really?!"

He chuckled again. "But of course. But I am curious. Where did you learn all your business know how anyhow? I know you explained your father was a prominent business man, probably not as successful as yours truly, but by what you told me about him and your past, he didn't seem too keen on letting a lady such as you keep on the family business. No offense."

Her eyes glanced down for a moment. "He-...He often dragged me along to..c-certain business meetings if he knew someone had a son. I heard a lot at those places."

He glanced up at her for a moment. "....And I am to assume he only brought you along to use you as some kind of token in case he saw an opportunity to use you to get information from said sons? Or am I assuming something too large?"

"No. You're p-pretty spot on. He didn't see me for anything else."

"What of your mother?" If she was spilling information, he might as well get as much as he could get from her. Never know when it might come in handy.

She shrugged. "I don't know. My parents got divorced when I was a baby and she...s-she left me with him. N-Never met her."

"Oh, I see....Well I am sorry for your situation." He went back to his papers with another sip.

"Thank you..." She looked at him. "What was your family like?"

He paused...before blinking and looking back up to her. "My family?" She nodded and he went silent for a moment. ".....They were...terrible people let's say. A gambling man and his not so wonderful wife is what resulted in myself."

"Is that why you're so good at running a casino?"

He chuckled. Oh if only she really knew the many nights he was forced from a young age to stand watch as his father and his 'friends' gambled any and all money away, drinking away their sorrows. Of course he never did, instead he was much more interested in what the men did with the cards. And eventually he swiped a deck himself and began practicing when he was bored, which lead to him developing his own tricks. His own destiny carved out by himself. And the name he made back on the surface. He sometimes wondered if his name was still up there somewhere besides obviously on a tombstone. Were there any records of himself from his bloody gang wars? Probably not because then he was still nothing but a small fish in a big pond, but you could imagine his surprise when he woke up to him tumbling down and hitting the sidewalk hard when he first got here. Confused as all hell but quickly able to recover. He had to claw his way up the ranks and fought tooth and nail to get there, but it all paid off now didn't it. Hard work always paid off in the end in his experience. Sometimes he wondered what his poor parents faces would be if they could see him now? An overlord of hell and richer than they would ever dream! That's the difference between him and them. He was smart with his money and knew how to play the game.

"You could say so. But I like to believe it's more thanks to my natural ability to spot the obvious good things in life before they slip away.~"

"Oh. Well I'd say you have a wonderful ability!"

He chuckled more at her politeness. "Thank you. But now I believe I promised that tea."

Things were FINALLY starting to look more progressive with Midnight's assignment as over the next few days she was finally able to restore them to their (almost) original state and they looked a lot cleaner than when he first got them. He was pleased none the less, but she told him they'd need to test them which was a small problem. Obviously he couldn't let anyone know he had them for confidential reasons, so it'd be a bit tricky. But he would figure it out later. He was making great progress bout everywhere it seemed. The pretty pet wanted to spend more time with him and he was happily to oblige, sometimes for tea, other times for that promised dancing he promised. He was surprised to find out she knew the jitterbug and charleton, though it was quite obvious she was still rusty. He was happy to escort her through the small steps and be close to her-..Uh! I mean to get her to easily go with what he said of course. It had nothing to do with her giggles or the surprise squeaks she'd make when he surprised her, or the fact she basically enjoyed the same things he did. It was just because he enjoyed dancing and it was nice to have someone compliment his singing and dancing skills. But it certainly stroked his ego as Midnight would oh so lovely put it. She wasn't...bad to have around. Compliments and politeness aside, she was very down to earth and ..surprisingly passionate. Actually dimallishing Rita's bar when he asked her what could be better about it. He laughed and honestly wondered what Rita would think if she knew someone as weak as her thought her place was a 'smelly bin of smoke and sweat that needed a few windows and MORE than just a few scented candles'.

Well after that little laugh he knew just the position to promote her to. So when he called her up to come to his office, she was pretty surprised when he explained why.

She blinked. "Personal asisntant?"

He hummed and nodded. "That's right, Dear! I feel as if merely being a secretary was ..undermining your abilities. You'd still have your duties AS my secretary but with more duties added on. But I promise the extra work would be worth the effort."

"What exactly are they?"

"You'd be entrusted with taking care of my more personal property. For example you're now in charge of making sure my space her is always in order and things are where I can find them, you'd be in charge of making sure my meals are delivered, and of course as my right hand asistant you'd be accompying me on business if it calls for it. But if it sounds too much too soon for you, I'll gladly just not give the promotion."

And wouldn't you know it. Hook. Line. And sinker. He made it seemed like something much better than it was and of course she agreed right away it would be a fantastic idea. And the next day she got too it. If there was another thing he could say about her it was that it was she was a hard worker, and she worked her tail off to prove she earned that little spot. Or maybe it was because some part of her still felt scared or intimidated by him. Didn't matter for now. Progress was being made throughout. She would still flinch lightly when he wrapped an arm around her or patted her back, but it was MUCH better than before. Couldn't say the same thing about everyone else or big crowds. She still was timid around those and that was just fine with him. The less interaction beyond his little crew the better. He gets to spend more time with her and vise versa! Everyone wins. Especially him. Though there was still a matter of that small warm feeling that wasn't really that small anymore, and he had a sneaking feeling as to what it could've possibly been, but he still pushed the unimportant thing aside for now. Right now he had FINALLY gotten a hold of the man who wanted to sell him the place and it was certainly about time. He should have the documents on his next business run. Which would happen to be his little pet's first one with him to be exact. Not anywhere special, just the casino floor. Laughing, cheers, and music filled the air within the casino as demons of all kinds gambled their money away or drank themselves drunk. A usual day for the casino staff....Well, almost everyone. The clicking of hooves made their way down the hallway towards the more noisier side of the whole casino. The woman flipped through the many papers piled within her arms. She finally pulled one from the back, scanning her eyes over it before looking up at the person walking next to her smiling nervously. "T-The deed to the winery next door has successfully been obtained like you wanted." The taller male smiled down at her. "Excellent!" He snatched the document from her and smirked down at it. "With this we'll no longer have to rely on cheap black market booze. How much have we left in stock, Pet?" Her ears went back at the nickname, but answered, "I....don't know. I haven't looked yet." He hummed and gave her a look. "Go ask Rouge, that beer bug ought to give you the answer, then get back to me."

Her eyes blinked confused up at him and she rose a brow. "Rouge?"

A sudden realization came over him and he sighed. "Oh, yes! You two haven't properly been introduced yet! Silly me!" From where they were standing he pointed a hand across the giant room where she could barely make out the bar. "Rouge is one of my floor managers but she mostly just handles the many bars and kitchen areas I have around here. You can't miss her really. She really bugs you persay." He chuckled..but sighed again at her still confused face. "She's a bug demon. Green hair, wings- You can't miss her."

"Oh. I see."

"Yes, now be a dear and ask her how much stock we have so I can calculate how soon we can easily use my newly obtained purchase.~" A red claw was extended to pull back a stray gold hair from her face. She visibly flinched at the touch and stopped an her purple eyes darted at him. He only chuckled and leaned forward a little. "You can do that. Can't you, Pet?~" She gulped and managed to not stutter despite the heat in her face. "Of course I can." His hand patter her cheek before retracting back and chuckling. "I thought so.~ Now-" He began walking again with her quickly following behind. "-I must go speak with a very important client. No go find Rouge. She'll give you what you need." "Yes, Sir." He often used nicknames with her and very flirty gestures, but after working for him for a couple months she got used to it....Kinda. He seemed to get a chuckle out of seeing her squirm and those god forbidden squeak sounds she made. Though putting up with his antics was better than fighting for survival on the streets. Even if it meant her hand. They came to the end of the hallway where the loud sounds of music and voices were. Without so much but a side smile at her, he turned to the left and quickly disappeared among the crowd of other demons. She watched after him for a moment, but soon went the opposite way. It wasn't comfortable being around so many possibly dangerous demons, but most were too busy with their games to pay attention to her. The ones that DID she knew stared at her body(or more specifically her exposed leg or horn). She made the mistake of looking into the face of one of her 'admirers' as she walked past. The grimy man visibly smirked at her and licked his fangs.....which made her cringe, duck her head, and pick up her pace. The bar couldn't be far now, right? ....Right! The bar wasn't as crowded as he thought it'd be, but it was still pretty packed. In the middle of it all was the flutter of green wings as the insect demon passed out drinks fast with ease. Years of experience right there. And she blinked. That must've been the Rouge Lou was telling her about. She didn't notice her at first, but (when she got close enough) Rouge smiled in her direction and placed her hands on the counter as she sat down. "Hey there, Fuzzy. You here for a drink?" She gestured to the wide shelves behind her. "We got lots of choices to choose from, so pick your poison." She smiled and took a seat. "N-No. Lou wanted to know how much alcohol was left in stock." Rouge rose a brow in confusion and she remembered that they hadn't been introduced yet. So not one for being rude, she stuck a hand out. "I-I-Im Amalfia. Your coworker? Im sure we hadn't met." She still looked confused before she gave a knowing smile and grabbing her hand. "Oh yeah! I recognize your name from Disease telling me all about you and the big guy spending some time together." She smiled before looking down at the paperwork she held then back to her. "Someone's been busy." She brought her arms up to rest them and the papers on the bar and gave a smile. "It's not that bad. It's certainly better than doing laundry o-or sweeping the floors, b-but Im just here because he wants to know how much stock you all have left." She snorted. "With all the chores he makes ya do, I'm surprised he doesn't dress you up in a mad outfit." Instead of getting the suggestive joke, the unicorn cocked her head to the side in confusion. "Why would he have me do that? I'm pretty sure he already has cleaning staff." "...Never mind." She waved a hand dismissively before leaning off the counter. "You said you wanted to know the booze level. Alright. It'll take me a couple minutes though." "I can wait." "Alright. HEY!" Her head snapped to the right as she shouted. Another demon glared at her from the other side of the bar. "Cover me for a bit. I need something from the back." Rouge left without another word, disappearing through a door between the two shelves of alcohol as the other bartender kept serving the demons that came. Leaving her surrounding by patrons grumbling for their drinks or passed out drunk on the bar. It was fine though. She was usually left alone if she just kept her eyes down and didn't engage with anyone. This wasn't the case though. As she busied herself by flipping through the small stack of papers in her hands, she barely noticed someone sit n the stool next to her, which really wasn't a big deal. It was a free bar after all. What she did notice however was the sudden ever so light feeling of someone touching her leg- "DON'T TOUCH ME!!" Her body reacted far faster than her mouth did. Whipping around towards the danger, her body on high alert from the unwanted invasion of her personal space. Sitting there was the very same demon she'd made the mistake of seeing. Her shout had seemed to catch the attention of some others around her though. The demon smiled and stared down at her like she was a prime steak. Unintentionally, she swallowed and leaned away. She probably looked more scared than she would've liked. "I-I....I don't like strangers touching m-me. Please g-go away." At this, he chuckled and leaned down eye level. "I remember you-" Her eyes visibly widened at this, and her nose wrinkled up. His breath smelt like an unwashed dumpster. He pointed a finger before saying, "Don't you remember me?..It took me a while to figure out where you were after running into me at that d*mmed club. But seeing you on the arm of that rich boy, it didn't take too long after that." She sat there frozen. "I-I...I'm really s-s-sorry, Sir, if you think that. B-But Im sorry."

He leaned his head back in laughter before hissing and leaning closer to her. "You REALLY don't recognize me, do you? I would've thought an empty headed gal like you would've made it somewhere more innocent for that pretty little head of yours. Guess not. Suits me just fine. Wouldn't you say?...Dorothy?"

She absolutely froze. Ice was traveling through her veins and his smile got wider at her absolutely terrified face. "...no." Was all she was able to force out of her terrified form at the rush of her realization and old name hit her harder than a freight train- A sudden shriek cut from her throat as something had grabbed a large fistful of her poor blonde and white hair and pulled her head back. Her hand immediately flew up to the giant hand and began to claw at it to no avail. He somehow got closer to her face. "Y'know...It's been a long time since I last saw you. Thought you still seen the last of me huh?" Her body coursed with pain as her brain screamed for his unwanted touch to go away. To not let it happen again. "Let go of me! Put me down!" Her body thrashed against the iron grip of her captor which made him raise his hand higher, dragging her from her seat. She screamed and started kicking her legs out. The commotion caught the attention of a whole lot of others, but most seemed more entertained by the fight than concerned for her. By this point she thought her head would pop off with how much it hurt. Her kicking had already sent her papers all over the ground below them. "I wonder how much a second owned horse would go for-" Another hand pressed her cheek. "A pure little thing like you would be worth a lo-AAAAHHH!!" The squirming flesh in her mouth tasted horrible, but something told her to keep her teeth clamped down. The demon cursed and pulled against her. Pushing her head back further.

"What THE F*CK are you doing?!" The female voice and the demanding tone behind it was enough to make the male demon stop and look down. By some miracle, Rouge had returned, probably hearing their screams, and was glaring at him with enough bite to put a cobra to shame. Her eyes flashed to her crying, squirming body held up by him for one split second. "....Okay, you burnt cherry lookin' mothaf*cker. You have one second to put Fuzzy down before I shove a bottle up your a$$." "Mind your own f*cking business!" Her jaw's grip had loosened in the few seconds after Rouge's return, so it was easy to finally slip his hand free to point at the much smaller demon and start yelling at her. Which gave her only a few moments to react. It was obvious this guy was physically stronger and wasn't planning on letting her go anytime soon. She sure as h*ll wasn't going back to being his to boss around. Not after so many years of FINALLY getting away. Not having to look over her shoulder, finally enjoying herself for once in her entire existance. She wouldn't go back to that enclosed prison again. So, in her panicked state, there was one very obvious solution- "LOU!!," she shrieked at the top of her lungs. Drowning out any other sound from her brain, "LOU, HELP!!" The tears dulled her vision somewhat so the next moments were a bit blurry, but no one could miss the obvious chair that came flying out of nowhere and collided with him full force. Sending them both to the floor. The sudden release from her hair was a relief compared to the smack to the floor....but it was better than being held in mid air. Her head tingled with dulled pain still, but there was no time to linger on that when a demonic cry and gagging sounds came next to her. Once again her body reacted before her conscious brain did and she sat up and away....and her eyes widened. The demon was the one making the gagging noises and flailing about like a fish out of water. The clawing at his neck directed her to the green rope like appendage firmly wrapped around it. Small red spikes dotted along it's sides. Before another shot out of no where above her making her whimper and duck as another red spiked green rope wrapped around the struggling demon's hand, and another grabbing his other hand. His red snout which didn't look good from the chair colliding with him, was held firmly shut as the green things wrapped him more than a mummy until he could barely move and was dropped to the floor in front of her. Another screech got her attention as well as some others. Her purple eyes widened at who was screeching. "Lou?" The plant demon was transfixed on the still choking demon. A fixture of rage and something she couldn't quite place on his face. He seemed to also be struggling as Cyber was death gripping his waist to hold back the snarling beast. "Lou, STOP! That's enough!" He didn't stop. "LOU!!" He froze. Everything seemed to freeze for those few agonizing moments...before his body slowly began to relax back and he blinked. "......Lou?" His head snapped to the unicorn looking up at him from the ground with a confused gaze....then around at all the patrons still watching- He quickly straightened up, reaching to fix his bowtie and hat, as if it never happened, before snapping his fingers. The vine around the guy's neck loosened and slunk away leaving him hacking and coughing. She let out a loud squeak as more vines wrapped around her suddenly and hoisted her up and over towards the two. There, she was firmly placed next to him and she gladly went behind the plant demon. He rose a brow at the fightened shaking lady as she death dripped his shirt and those purple eyes stared in absolute fear at the man gasping for breath on the floor before he hissed up at them.

"You little b*tch! Hiding behind that stupid fatcat like he's some shield for your petty little behind! You never could be stronger than me could you!? You were always too weak to do anything!!"

Now, he had made a gave mistake. He was willing to just beat him to a pulp and leave him on the streets, after all no one made a sceen in his casino without consequences and he was already in such a foul, but what had just come out of his mouth seemed to make a difference. A hiccup escaped from behind him and he slowly turned his raised brow to the woman now pressing her face to his back, not daring to look up. "Is he...?"

Her whimper was and what he had just said confirmed on just who this man was. Well, well. This day had just gotten interesting, now didn't it? What a stupid, stupid move for this poor soul to make. Lou slowly turned his gaze back to the struggling form of the cursing man in front of him. Oh he knew EXACTLY what to do with him.

"Cyber. Take this lowlife trash to Midnight, and keep him there until I come up." He turned back to the terrorfied female behind him before reaching an arm behind him and pulling her from behind him to his side. "You are coming with me." Cyber gave him an overly confused look with a," Uh. Sure, Boss." She watched silently as Lou led the horrified gal away from the cussing man and watching crowd and without so much as another word, she blankly looked down to the guy trapped in vines and rose a brow as he uselessly dug his grave by cussing her out. With ease she grabbed the vine cocooned man and threw him over her shoulder. Rolling her eyes as he cussed and screamed his way through the crowed. Leaving Rouge there extremely confused to the events that just played out. ".....Da f*ck just happened?" ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ It took a while for him to calm her down from her very obvious panic attack which left her clinging and crying into him for the longest time as he shushed her and attempted to sooth her over like how Midnight would sooth Disease in one of his moments. Eventually she was able to get a hold of herself and just sat there in his grip hiccupping and wiping at her face for a while. When he thought she was able to be steady by herself he finally let go and she didn't make any protests when he did. Just try to pull herself together from the ordeal. Which left him to sigh and finally to go and sit in his chair for a while- He groaned and reached up to rub at his temples. The soft office chair hugged his slumped over body as he racked his brain. A small thump from the desk made him open his eyes and noticed the small white cup that was placed in front of him. The smell of coffee and weed killer filled the air, and on top of it all was the smiling face of the unicorn. "Thank you." He grabbed it before chugging it down half way. She gave him a bigger smile. "I thought you'd want that after the fight back there." He dryly chuckled. Oh, yes. The fight. He honestly didn't know what to think of it all. One moment he was casually talking up one of his more richer clients, alomost sealed the deal too, when the first screams rang out. At first, he didn't pay much attention to it, if there was a fight then the bouncers would take care of it. That's what they were paid for. What he DID pay attention to was the screaming of his name- "LOU!! LOU, HELP!!" You could say he snapped around faster than a bullet. Completely confused to who could've been shouting for him- Until he saw it. The struggling form of Amalfia struggling against a sickly cherry red demon with his hand gripping her hair. What happened next was something he couldn't quite explain. It was almost like someone flipped a switch and red clouded his vision. Though throwing a chair and making a scene in front of his customers was a blur, he would've never done that otherwise. Something his head couldn't wrap around he supposed. The only logical thing he could come to was that he became overly angry at having his pretty little weapon in danger of being taken from him and his power hungry instincts took over for a little bit. What else could it have been? "Yes. Well-" He sat back up bringing the cup with him. "I don't tolerate strangers placing their hands on the woman I intend on marrying. I would advise against going back there anytime soon." "But, my papers-" "I'll send Cyber to retrieve them." He gave the cup a look before glancing back at her. ".....This coffee tastes a bit old. Why don't you go make a new pot?" "Alright. I get the hint. But, Lou-" A Soft hand reached out to gently squeeze his free hand. "I mean it. Thank you." She slowly removed herself from by the desk and made her way over to the doorway. He sat there frozen for what seemed like forever before slowly clenching his free hand. What the h*ll was wrong with him today?! He gave a frustrated growl before reaching up to remove his hat and run those red digits through his blonde locks of his, whatever. He would feel like himself soon again anyways. But he had other business to attend to that he certainly was not going to overlook or leave as a threat to any of his plans.

***********************************************************************************

He had to wait for her to go to sleep which took a little longer than usually thanks to the mongeral's scare from earlier, but it's nothing some reassurance and warm drink couldn't help. He didn't know why but-...under that calm smile of his anger resurfaced and he gave off a frustrated growl as soon as he left the room and started making his way towards Midnight's lab, which was just a little ways from his dance room. And with his fast pace fueled by the anger in his veins it didn't take long for him to get there. But what first graced his ears was loud muffled mumbles coming from the inside of said lab and his anger started to turn in that direction. The door was pushed open maybe a little more forcefully than he'd like but that didn't matter to him in the moment and he just stood there in the doorway. Rasing a brow at what he was met with. The table Midnight used for....'things' was currently occupied by the struggling red skinned demon, the vines removed for favor of the clamps on the table, Cyber was standing right next to the table looking at him and shrugged. And a little ways from her was a grumpy as ever looking Midnight and a frowning snake flicking his tongue out at the guy...and he just now noticed the mongral had a black eye to match the rope around his mouth.

"..Did I miss something?"

"Eh...The guy got some colorful language and decided to use it on Midnight," she jabbed a thumb behind her at the grumpy looking which. "Disease wasn't too happy let's just say.''

He hummed as he walked into the room, hands behind his back and gave him a calm half lidded look without the smile. Rage burning behind those lidded red eyes of his. The guy glaring at him with absolute hatred behind that gag of his. "...Remove the gag."

Cyber did as she was told without question and with one pull the rope fell from the douchbag's snout. He coughed a few times before glaring up at him. "YOU F*CKING SON OF A B*TCH!! I'LL PLUCK YOUR PETALS AND SNAP YOUR F*CKING STEM YOU TWAT!!"

Lou's face didn't change and instead rolled his eyes. "Simpleton. You all always resort to petty curses and empty threats when you're about to meet your end. Midnight." The witch looked up from..whatever she was currently mixing together and with a sinister smile plastoring itself onto his face, he pointed to the strapped down man. "We found the new volunteer for your projects. Let's hope they prove useful research eh?"

The guy's eyes widened and snapped to the witch who all of a sudden didn't look so grumpy and was staring dead at him with...calculating eyes, before struggling against the table's restraints and glaring back him. "YOU F*CKING B*ST*RD!! LET ME OUT!!"

he hummed and tapped in his in mock thought. "Um...No. You see, you could've scared off one of my plan's assets and I simply cannot have that. So as punishment you get to help Midnight test out some of our other assets for this the small takeover I hope to achieve.~ Isn't that wonderful? Too bad you won't live to see it."

"WHY YOU FU-" The guy's snout was slammed shut by Cyber after Lou nodded to her. With incredible strength, she held his red jaws shut with one hand while looping the rope back around it with the other. Midnight already looked a little better, digging through one of the draws of her desk and pulling out a few potions and things she was eager to use. As for him?...He deserved a good night's sleep after today. He felt oddly satisfied and wanted to leave them to it. Turning on his heel he took a few steps before stopping in the doorway.

"Oh..By the way.'' He looked over his shoulder. Smile and red eyes glowing in the dark. "You missed out on having a remarkible lady by your side. I guess in a way I should really be thanking you. In a sense you pushed her to me and I couldn't be happier.~" Cyber rose a brow again at him happy tone. "But we both know I won't do any of that."

The doors closed behind him and muffled cries cursed him from behind.

All characters except Amalfia belongs to @palettepainter

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hockeylvr59 · 4 years

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Life Changes Part 6 || Paul Bissonnette

Summary: It’s crazy how quickly your life can change...one minute you’re a struggling personal injury lawyer and the next you’re working for one of the hottest sports podcasts to supplement your income. A new job and the end of a long-term relationship was just the beginning for Leigh Thompson when it comes to life changes. Thankfully she has the one and only Paul Bissonnette at her side to help her handle them all.

Authors Note: Splitting this next segment up into at least two parts because otherwise, it will be insanely long (this part contains 2 of at least 6 events that I have in mind for this short span of time). I’d love to know what you think of this chapter, especially considering that Paul is very much present. Also please feel free to send me any songs that you think I should add to the series playlist.

Requested: [ ] yes [x] no Warnings: cursing. Word Count: 2,865+ text convos

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“True life is lived when tiny changes occur.”

From the moment I’d been hired by the podcast, I’d been working on putting together all of the details for a Vegas trip for the NHL awards. Now, after months of hard work, everything was set for the guys to spend a week in Vegas. Our title sponsor for the trip was one of the many hotel-casinos who had reserved a 4 bedroom suite for the podcast hosts as well as a few standard rooms for the camera and production guys. Additionally, all of the media passes for the event were ready to go and I knew the boys had lined up quite a few guests. With everything set and the awards only a week away I was hoping to maybe be able to take a mini-vacation myself at home while they partied it up and got tons of content to last through the summer.

It had been maybe an hour from when I sent the boys an email with all of the important details for the trip when my phone buzzed with an incoming text from Paul.

______

So, because I lacked all capability to tell Paul Bissonnette ‘no’ when he asked me to do something, I was currently pulling my suitcase through the Vegas airport at almost midnight the night before the awards. Checking my phone I saw that Paul had texted me one message with the room number and which room in the suite was ours as well as another saying that the rest of the boys had gone out but that he’d be there when I got in. I had previously told him not to wait up for me and had even fought with him when he wanted to come to pick me up. It was completely ridiculous for him to even think about taking an Uber to the airport just to uber back to the hotel.

Grabbing a cab, it wasn’t long before I had arrived at the hotel and after stopping at the front desk for a key to the room and to make sure the boys hadn’t had any problems with the reservations, I took the elevator upstairs and let myself into a dark and silent suite. Part of me had expected Paul to be up watching tv or something but it was too quiet for that. He’d said that we were staying in the first room on the right and so I quietly headed over, pausing in the doorway when my eyes caught sight of him.

The only light in the room was coming from the open blinds letting in the city lights and Paul was sprawled out on the bed on his stomach fast asleep. The way the light and shadows highlighted the muscles of his naked back made my body react involuntarily and I took a deep breath trying not to gasp. Reminding myself that this was definitely just the pregnancy hormones getting the best of me, I slipped into the room and closed the door to the living room behind me.

As quietly as I could, I hung my dress up in the wardrobe and got my pajamas and things for bed out of my suitcase before sneaking into the bathroom to get ready to go to sleep. It was beyond late and with the time change, I was exhausted. Paul was still taking up most of the bed when I stepped out of the bathroom and flipped off the light, using the flashlight on my phone to guide me across the room to close the curtains and then to the edge of the bed. Perched on what little bed was not occupied by a large man, I gently reached out and rubbed my hand over his back trying to stir him just enough that he’d roll over and make room. Getting no reaction I sighed.

“Paul...are you actually gonna share the bed like you promised or am I stuck sleeping on the couch tonight?” I whispered. Rubbing his back once more I felt his muscles twitch and suddenly his body was moving, arm reaching out to take my hand and pull me into him. I couldn’t help but roll my eyes as I settled into his embrace, his solid chest pressed into my back. As his body shifted to surround me further, the hand that had grabbed mine moved to drape over my waist.

We’d snuggled like this before, but back then I didn’t have a 21-week baby bump protruding from my front. It was clear that in his sleepy state he expected what he was used to before because the moment his arm didn’t drape the way he expected he froze against me. A change in his breathing signaled that he was now actually awake and his hand gently caressed my stomach for a moment.

“Holy shit Leigh…” His sleep laden voice murmured from behind me. “You...that’s...I didn’t...wow.” Shaking my head at him a little I rolled onto my back so that I could look over at him. As I shifted, Paul reached over to tap the bedside light on, allowing us to actually see each other.

“It’s called a baby bump Paul...this is kinda what happens when you’re pregnant and the baby starts to get bigger. There’s only so much space in there for the baby to grow otherwise.” His gaze was dark and lazy as our eyes met before he swept a look up and down my body taking in the changes that he’d missed due to living on separate sides of the country.

“I knew that…” He declared, glaring at me softly. “I just...I don’t know. I haven’t seen you in a few months and I don’t know why but I wasn’t expecting you to be showing. Not like this.” I knew he wasn’t implying that I was fat or anything, just that his brain hadn’t actually processed the changes that my body would undergo during pregnancy.

“Not so easy to hide anymore huh?” I questioned and he nodded but his eyes hadn’t left my stomach, nor had his hand.

“Fuck...I...are you okay with me touching?” He asked at least being conscious enough to know that women frequently complained about people touching their bellies. It was clear that he wanted to touch and explore. To make the connection between the baby that we so frequently talked about and how said baby currently existed inside me. Smiling over at him I nodded, though he wasn’t looking and therefore didn’t see it.

“Go for it,” I assured him. “You are one of the few people I think I can put on my approved bump touch list.” I teased. Part of me had at least expected him to crack a smile at that but I don’t think he was paying attention to my words since the second I gave him permission to touch.

The way his strong fingers grazed over my belly so gently caused a shiver to run up my spine and I just watched him for a moment before closing my eyes and relaxing. For a few minutes, he just caressed and pressed his palm to my stomach before his fingers dipped down to the edge of my shirt. Peeking up at him I could see the adoration in his eyes as he looked at the way my body had adapted to growing the little boy or girl inside of me. I felt blessed to know that he already loved this baby so much even though he had no real reason to and it made me want to give him as much as I could so far as letting him bond with the baby went.

“Here…” I breathed, rolling just slightly to adjust my shirt so that it rested just under my breasts, exposing the skin of my stomach to him, stretch marks and all. I knew that touching through clothes was one thing but letting him see the way that my skin had stretched, and letting him touch without that barrier in the way was something else entirely.

Paul’s hand quickly found its way back to the bump and when he looked up at me again his eyes were moist with tears. Meeting his gaze with concern, I reached over to brush my thumb against his cheek.

“Sorry.” He mumbled, his body leaning into my touch as much as I had his earlier. “I just...this is incredible. I...I didn’t expect that this would affect me so much.” It was totally understandable for him to have that reaction and I did my best to communicate that to him without words. My own voice was stuck in my throat seeing him get emotional over something that I’d personally gotten used to because it was my new normal. “You...I hope you know that you were beautiful before...but you’re absolutely gorgeous like this. Pregnancy suits you.” The intent behind his words confused me but he was so sure of them that I couldn’t help the flush that came over my entire body. Catching my breath after a moment I glanced over at the alarm clock beside the bed.

“So...can we go to sleep now...because it’s the middle of the night back home and being pregnant is exhausting.” My words seemed to snap Paul out of his trance.

“Fuck...of course. I...goodnight Leigh.” His words were spoken with a soft kiss to my temple, but before I could attempt to roll over, Paul had shifted, leaning over me. “Goodnight dustbunny.” He added and for a split second his lips were pressed against my stomach before he was laying back down beside me, a sheepish look on his face. “Didn’t want baby to feel left out.” He mumbled before switching the light back off so that we could all get some sleep.

Tucked back against his chest, I was nearly off to dreamland when I heard him whisper softly into the room. “I’m here for whatever you and your mama need dustbunny...that’s a promise.”

__________________________

When I woke the next morning, Paul was still passed out beside me. Gingerly, I slid out of his arms needing first to use the bathroom and then to get some food before the baby decided to protest. After taking care of my bladder needs and slipping on a pair of shorts, I quietly opened the door to the living room wondering if the boys had any food in the kitchen or if they’d eaten out for every single meal since arriving in Vegas.

Padding softly through the living room around to the little kitchen in the suite, I could hear RA and Grinnell talking softly from over by the patio doors. When I arrived in the kitchen I found a couple of small boxes of cereal as well as a small bottle of milk in the minifridge. Pouring myself a bowl of cereal, I rubbed the remaining sleep from my eyes before moving back to lean against the counter dividing the kitchen and living space while I ate. It was only then that I addressed the crew’s oldest host and our production manager by saying good morning.

Both quickly returned my greeting but didn’t look over at me right away. However, upon finishing their conversation, they turned to me and it was comical to see the double-take that Mikey did when his eyes saw me.

“What the fuck is that?” He asked only to be scolded by RA murmuring a ‘dude…’ in his direction. Swallowing the bite of cereal I’d put into my mouth I started laughing at how thrown these two grown men seemed at the sight of a pregnant woman.

“Um...surprise?” I stated, trying to downplay things in order to not generate a large reaction.

“Why didn’t Biz fucking tell us he’s gonna be a dad?” Mikey exclaimed, visibly getting worked up and speaking without really thinking about his words. Again RA tried to get him to shut up for a minute but he continued to rant for a moment about how ‘this was a big deal’ and ‘since when did Biz keep secrets like this….’

“Michael Grinnell...will you shut up for a minute?” I declared, setting my now empty bowl down on the counter. “Biz didn’t tell you that he’s gonna be a dad because he’s not…” I immediately motioned for him to let me continue but before I could, a voice sounded from my left.

“How far along do you think she is dumbass?” Ryan Whitney chirped as he made his way into the kitchen for his own breakfast. His lack of reaction to what he’d just walked into caught me off guard for a moment before I turned to look at him.

“How long have you known?” I asked accusatorily. He at least had the courtesy to look guilty as he mumbled that I probably already knew the answer to that. Carding my fingers through my hair, I sighed and shook my head. “You’ve known as long as Paul has…” I was slightly annoyed by that and it clearly showed on my face causing Whit to backpedal.

“I didn’t know know…” He explained. “Yes...Biz texted me asking if you being sick the way you were was normal and the suspicion was kind of unspoken. He never actually told me that you were though...it was just pretty obvious when the two of you posted scenic pictures when I knew he was taking you to the doctors’. If it was a bug you would have been in bed resting, long drive implies a distraction and it wasn’t hard to figure out from that, that his suspicions had been right.” I couldn’t really be angry about the fact that he’d deduced it based on information obtained before anyone knew for certain that I was pregnant. “Plus...Biz has been different the past few months and it’s pretty obvious why…” He added, gesturing toward my stomach.

“So….if Biz isn’t the dad…” Mikey jumped back into the conversation, his expression suggesting that he’d been thinking a little too hard about all of this. Suddenly his eyes went wide. “Oh...shit.” He murmured like it had all hit him at once. Needing to take control of the situation back I placed a hand on my stomach, taking a deep breath.

“Yes. I’m pregnant. No, we’re not talking about the whole paternity situation. Yes, Paul and evidently Whit have known for a few months. I didn’t tell my parents until last month and I’m not ready to go fully public with an announcement yet which is why I hadn’t said anything. Now, if we can just move on...that would be wonderful.”

Thankfully Whit was able to distract RA and Grinnell with a discussion of setting up for the interviews they were recording before the awards tonight and I was able to slip back to the bedroom, suddenly feeling like I needed a nap even though I’d just woke up.

I’d been staring out the window, trying to clear my mind and decide what I wanted to do until I had to start getting ready when a pair of arms wrapped around my waist and I was pulled back into a firm chest.

“You okay?” Paul asked, his fingers once again rubbing gentle circles over the expanse of my stomach. Leaning into him I nodded and just focused on his touch and soothing presence.

“The boys know.” I eventually whispered and I could feel him chuckle softly.

“I mean...I kind of figured...it only takes one look at you like this.” Feeling his lips press against my hair I sighed. “Plus I could hear Grinnell freaking out. Are you okay with the cat being out of the bag so to speak?” Shrugging I sighed but didn’t say anything. I kind of had to be okay, though it did again bring the fear of the world finding out tonight on national tv to the front of my mind. I could only pray that the dress I’d found would do a sufficient job of hiding my growing stomach in the way that a pair of shorts and a clingy tank top couldn’t.

Spinning me around Paul pulled me into a hug. We stood like that for a few minutes before there was a knock on the bedroom door with RA calling out that Paul needed to get his ass into gear so they could get started. When he pulled back reluctantly, he kissed the top of my head.

“I’ll be fine...go,” I assured him. “Dustbunny and I are just gonna lay back down for a little while. I’ll set an alarm to wake me in a couple hours so I can start getting ready for tonight.”

With one more caress of my bump, Paul retreated to the living room to work and I slipped back into bed, pulling his pillow from his side of the bed to cuddle. With sounds of laughter coming from the next room I quickly drifted off to sleep, hoping that I would wake up more excited for the awards than I currently felt.

No Social Media for this Chapter.

#paul bissonnette #paul bissonnette imagine #Arizona coyotes #arizona coyotes imagine #former player #nhl imagine #nhl imagines #hockey imagines #hockey imagine #014.1 #gif courtesy of dougiesflow

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donaldresslerfanfic · 4 years

Text

It’s Over?

Rating: M

Warnings: Strong Language, Sexual Content.

Word Count: 2192

Donald Ressler X OC Maggie Waters.

Chapter: Eighty-Three

Chapter Index

Story on Wattpad

Maggie.

It never got easier. It never got easier for Don to see friends and loved ones be hurt, and it never got easier for me to see him like that.

I stared at him for a full minute, watching him talk to Cooper, feeling so defeated about Samar and not being able to help her. I knew he was trying hard but couldn't contain his tears to fill up on his eyes. When Cooper walked away, I resumed my walk to him, leading my hand to grab his before he repaired on my presence.

"Hey" I said quietly, not wanting to look in the room, because I knew I wasn't going to be able to hold my own tears "how are you?"

He didn't say anything, just leaned in to hug me, I held him by the shoulders and sighed, feeling him tense on my arms.

"You know how I get" he said in a little voice.

"I know" I replied, rubbing his back.

I think that the situation with Samar was different for him than how it was with Liz when she got hospitalized. Samar had been his partner for a while, they'd fought together and eachother, she came with Aram once a month at the house for dinner, we were all good friends. And now he didn't have the excuse of blaming Tom Keen for what had happened with Liz. Samar's accident had been under their watch, I knew it was going to be harder for him and for Aram to shake the guilt out of this one.

I pulled back and held him by the shoulders. He cleared his throat and rubbed his eyes, clearly wanting to look though.

"What do you know?" I asked, finally looking in. Samar looked half normal, the other half being her on a ventilator. Aram was just being Aram, painfully optimistic, or at least trying to be.

"Nothing good. She's on a ventilator but they don't know for how long. And we will find out about her state if and when she wakes up"

I bit my bottom lip and tore my eyes off the window, I sighed and looked at my watch.

"I have to go to work but" I placed my hand on his forearm "call me later okay?"

"I'm going home" he said with a shake of his head "I'll see you tonight."

I leaned in to give him a short kiss, then headed to work.

Samar was luckily not in a ventilator or in a coma for long, but after she woke up, things with Don and the cases slowed down a bit, so he got to spend a few weeks at home.

I was checking on some prints I had to review before the weekend, and sometimes hours at work weren't enough to get everything that I needed to do cleared, so I often took work home.

"Mags" I heard the door knock behind me, I turned around on the chair when I heard the door open "are you busy?" Don's head peaked in.

"Hey, this'll take me-" I took a look around and through my papers "an hour maybe. Why?"

"Just checking" he said from the door, opening it a bit more.

"And Alma? You tired of hanging out with her?" I said moving my eyes to my papers again, getting ready to return to work.

"If I have to hear that frozen song one more time-" he said, entering the room and dragging a chair to sit down next to me. I gave him a chuckle.

"I have nightmares with that song"

"There's a second one coming up"

"Oh Jesus" I said with fake annoyance. I obviously loved to see my daughter act out the movie and sing and dress herself like Elsa.

I gave him a look after he sat next to me.

"Any chance they'll tell you when they're going to want you back?" He gave me a pout with a shrug of his shoulder.

"Another week maybe. Samar is having a wellness check next week to see if she's cleared for duty"

"Mm" I hummed and returned to the papers.

"Why is that whole text in French?" He said looking at the computer, I gave the screen a quick look before I continued.

"It's from a French client obviously"

"And why don't you translate it?"

I lifted my eyes to his with a cocked eyebrow.

"Because I know French"

He laughed, shaking his head. "Since when?"

"Since two years ago, when I was finishing the casino project and still pregnant with Alma the firm gave out French courses and I took them because I couldn't go to work. I got my certificate last month"

"I don't believe you. Say something"

I don't know why, it was like a spell when someone asked me to say something in another language, I instantly forgot everything I knew.

"Tu est le plus bel homme que j'ai vu dans ma vie entière" I said.

"That doesn't sound nice" I let my mouth fall agape and chuckled.

"I said you're the most beautiful man I've ever seen"

"That's a lie"

"Yeah, there's also Chris Hemsworth" I joked, that made him laugh. I laughed as well, shaking my head and looking back at the papers. I felt his hand on my shoulder, giving it a squeeze.

"I love you, you know" I tore my eyes from the papers again, giving him a smile and taking his hand in mine.

"I love you too Don" he pressed his lips in a thin line, rubbing my hand with his thumb.

"You know, things have been happening at the taskforce, and with Samar in the hospital, I've been holding onto hope that nothing was going to happen to me, or you"

I took his hand between both of mine and leaned to him.

"Nothing is going to happen to me" I assured "and I'm sure whatever has been happening at the taskforce, you'll be smart enough to avoid being involved"

"It's something about Reddington" he confided.

"It's always something about him. And I know you'll want answers." I patted his hand "just be careful"

He nodded, leaning in to grab my face and give me a kiss.

"I'll let you finish here" he said, finally standing from the chair and walking out of the office.

After Samar came back, Don still didn't tell me what was the thing that had him so eager to get answers. I didn't expect him to walk in the house angry one of those days, because he never got angry enough to drag it all the way home.

It started when the door of the garage banged shut, and Alma jumped a little startled, we were in the living room, I was finishing something on the computer and she was down with a coloring book in the mat in front of me.

Don walked in, taking out his badge and throwing it on the kitchen island behind us.

"Don?" I asked, looking over my shoulder, he walked across the kitchen towards the living room "what happened?"

"I had a suspect ran away from me after he shot up a person" he said taking the remote and turning on the TV.

"-most wanted fugitive Raymond Reddington, was arrested in New York this afternoon, after police officers responded to an anonymous tip"

"And then that" he said throwing the control on the couch. I shut down the laptop and left it on my side.

"So what... It's over?"

"Yeah, pretty much, we can't get him out of the system, and the taskforce is concealed from public knowledge. Do you know what's worst? Keen though I did it." He let out a dry chuckle "I know I hate the guy, but why should I wait more than six years before I decided to bring him in. Why would I do it on the first place?"

"I understand why you're upset" I said with a nod, he walked around the couch and sat next to me

"And she said that she knows I'm not sad about it. I am not sad about it, but I don't prefer it. I don't want the taskforce to shut down" he said, looking into his pocket with his hand. He looked at the phone and sighed, rubbing a hand on his hair. "Ressler" he replied. "yeah, I saw." He continued talking, sitting back on the couch with a defeated sigh "of course I'm happy. I'm just not the one who caught him" he save me a look, then muttered that it was James.

He has probably watched the news and called Don to tell him the good news. As far as James knew, Don had been in the Reddington taskforce, that information wasn't concealed from his record, and James must've probably checked that out long ago when they first met.

They continued talking, Don pretended to not be mad, and agreed to have some celebratory beers in a few days. When he hung up, he threw the phone in the couch and sighed angry again.

Alma was definitely not used to seeing Don angry, hell, I wasn't used to seeing Don angry. So she just sat there looking between him and me, not daring to do anything, just holding her hands together in discomfort.

"She's never seen you angry" I whispered to him. He looked at me questioningly, then down at Alma.

"Hey cupcake" he leaned and motioned at Alma with his hand "come here"

Alma stood up, then carefully walked to him. Don took her in his arms and sat her down at his lap.

"Daddy anwy"

"Dad is a little angry" Don confirmed "but I'm fine now"

"Ine?" She asked.

"Yes, I'm fine cupcake" he said caressing her cheek. Alma shrugged off of his lap and walked a few steps to her toys, getting busy again.

Don continued working with the taskforce, as far as I knew Raymond could still give him cases. He followed up with them for a while. He never really said what was happening with Raymond, how he was doing in jail, if they were going to be able to help him.

He came home one of those days, I was getting a snack ready for Alma when he walked into the kitchen.

"Hey love" I saluted. He gave me a smile, then grabbed me by the neck and kissed me, I smiled over his lips and kissed him more, placing my hands on top of his.

"Hi" he saluted as he pulled back, moving his hands to my waist and pulling me in.

"How are you?" I ran my hand in his neck and caressed his cheek.

"Mm, someone told me today I'm pushing forty with no prospects" he flashed his eyebrows and leaned in for another short kiss "she obviously forgot that I have you" I smiled, he left my waist and walked around me towards the fridge.

"Why would someone tell you that?"

"Mm" he hummed after taking a carton of milk and taking a glass from the cupboard "Keen and I were talking about a wedding I have to go to-"

"A wedding?"

"And she told me about this girl I could take, as if I wouldn't take you instead"

"Whose wedding?" I pushed. He gave me a dismissing wave of his hand as he poured milk in the glass.

"Some cousin I have, she hates cops though, so I'm not going"

"That's stupid, if she gave you an invitation-"

"We're not going" I pouted, he gave me a chuckle and stored away the milk.

A few days later, after we had finished with our day and I was done brushing my teeth and exited the bathroom when I saw him, sitting at the side of the bed with just his boxers on. What a sight indeed.

"Why aren't you in bed?" I asked walking to the bed.

"I was waiting for you to bring that" he motioned at me as he set his phone in the nightstand charging.

"Bring what?" I said looking at him with a playfully frown.

"That body of yours that drives me crazy" he leaned to grab me by the shirt and pulled my to him, his hands instantly landed on my sides as he pushed me to the bed. I giggled as he ran his hands on my sides and pulled off my shirt, leaving me with just a thong in front of him.

"If I'd known you were waiting I would've taken a lot less" I said when he leaned in to kiss me, he chuckled and trapped my lips in his, bitting on them playfully.

He grabbed my hands and pinned them up over my head, and I knew then I was in for a good one, because I absolutely loved when he pinned me under him and had his way with me.

"I'm onto something" he said over my lips after he was done kissing them, I felt them tingle and sore up, along with every part of my body that was getting ready for him.

"For my sake I hope you keep at it"

#donald ressler #donald ressler x oc #the blacklist #the bl fanfic #fanfic

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unholyhelbig · 5 years

Note

Can you do another family vampire Au with Chloe and Beca? I love the dynamic!

A/N: The last time I wrote something for this little AU was a whole year ago. But since it’s spooky season and something about domestic Bechloe just pulls at my heart.

Fic Name: Immortal Control

Word Count: 1.6k

First installment | AO3 Link

Beca thumbed the key in her left hand like it was keeping her afloat in a rocky sea. She couldn’t’ tell where the metal ended and where her sweaty palm began anymore. It was all one, a nervous habit that made her want to scoff and throw it into the ocean, or a tall field of grass that swayed in the wind.

She was 256 years old, for fuck's sake, something as little as this shouldn’t’ have her stomach in knots. It was a simple parent-teacher conference, one that the superintendant had called her specifically to arrange yesterday morning. It was abrupt, but the man explained that he needed them both there. Chloe took a long lunch from the hospital, and Beca sat in her car with the engine shut off and the key in her hand.

Beca had fought wars, she had trudged through mud and slick ice had pushed past the fear of death and outlived hundreds. Outshined the hunger that always nagged at the back of her throat, threatening to resurface the minute someone got a papercut or slammed their hand too hard in a car door. But she had never been a mother- not until fifteen years ago when they adopted Florence.

She was well behaved, her teaches having nothing but rave reviews about her posture, and how into gothic literature she had become. Her nose was always in a book, and when it wasn’t, she was charming and smart, and Beca never thought any less of her. Certainly, never spurring an early morning summons by an English teacher that Beca had yet to meet.

Three sharp knocks to her window pulled a sharp breath into her lungs, dark eyes flashing over to the woman leaning up against the side of her truck. A mused look on that immortally entrancing face. Beca thought the turn of the century fit Chloe well- every era did, but this was one of her favorites, she had decided. Her hair pulled up in a curly bun and suit jacket removed to show a silky purple blouse. She never got tired of those crystal eyes, or the way she smiled- especially around their youngest.

“You’d think you would hear me coming a mile away,” Chloe said the second the door creaked open, Beca met with the slight chill that early October carried.

“My love, I regret to inform you that I’m catatonic when I’m thinking too hard.”

Chloe let out a grunt at that, but she understood. Never interrupting Beca when her thoughts ran wild, if not to set a cup of scalding tea in front of her, or to finally pull her to bed because even those without a beating heart needed to rest at some point.

The taller of the pair started walking towards the looming building. Beca could already smell the macaroni art and cheap juice that they poured into plastic cups. Delia would come home with an orange rim around her mouth that made her bounce off the walls, the school not concerned with the gas they put in the engine.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine.” Chloe soothed, pondering herself “There’s nothing we can’t handle that we haven’t before.”

“Please, Florence was an absolute saint at this age. Are we even sure she’s ours?”

“Positive, dear. She just takes after me.”

Beca drew in a breath to protest but let the comment hang in the air. She pulled the door to the elementary school open and followed her wife with her head held high. She remembers a therapist in the 80’s telling her to practice confidence without defense. Something she still struggled with thirty-six years later.

The woman behind the desk was stout. She had a pretty face with kind features, wearing a bright blouse that worked for her in all the right ways. She stood the second she saw Chloe, like old friends. She never understood how her wife did it- keeping up appearances and working a full-time job at the hospital.

“Mrs. Beale,” She beamed “And you must be Mrs. Mitchell”

She took the woman’s hand and shook it with a smile. This was progress. Not that Beca hadn’t interacted with people before, hadn’t charmed her way through casinos and past the nastiest of threats, but somehow this was different. It made her nervous.

The woman had them sign in on a sheet of paper with the time next to it before sending them to the small waiting room that had out of date magazines and the sounds of flutes playing from a speaker hidden somewhere in the corridor. Everything felt out of date, the metal chairs digging into her back as Chloe grasped one of those magazines and flipped through the pages. Beca crossed her arms over her chest and stared ahead.

“What do you think it’s about?”

“Maybe she’s doing so well they wanted to commend you on your control and flawless parenting style.” She flipped the page.

“Funny. But really, what do you think she did?”

Chloe let out a thick sigh, leaning forward to place the magazine on the coffee table before turning to her wife with a tender look on those delicate features. Even just a slight glance washed a wave of comfort over her like a shiver. “Beca, whatever it is, we will deal with it. Delia has a bit of that same spark that you do, it will undoubtedly but her into hot water more than once. But that’s who she is- who you are. You’ll both be fine.”

Beca furrowed her brow and stared for a minute, scanning Chloe’s features and mulling over the words she had left out in the open like this. From the minute Delia was born, Beca knew that she would be a handful- Hell, she was one herself. But it was a different time, certainly not one filled with parent-teacher conferences.

“Chloe,” A man walked into the waiting room. They both stood hastily, a bit of doubt even creeping into her wife’s confidant gaze. “And I assume you’re Beca? I don’t’ think we’ve had the pleasure. Not in person anyway.”

He was younger than Beca was expecting, maybe two or three years out of school. He had tried shaving this morning, cutting his chin and exposing a dot of red to the world. His collar was stained with the scent. Clumsy and unruly but exactly how she assumed he would appear. His hair curly and brown and his shirt untucked.

“Please, follow me”

Chloe lifted a brow at her wife before doing as she was told. They ended up in a conference room with a long table- only occupying the far end. Mr. Ramone sat at one side of the table while Chloe and Beca took camp at the other. There was an odd silence that filled the room.

“I’m sorry for all the theatrics,” He explained, spreading his fingers against the tabletop. “But there was a matter I wanted to discuss with the both of you about Delia.”

“Is she in trouble?” Beca asked, Chloe, placing her hand on her knee. “You sounded serious on the phone.”

“Not necessarily, Mrs. Mitchell, I don’t’ want you to worry too much. She’s just displaying a habit that we would like to get ahead of before it gets worse, with your permission, of course.” His chair creaked under his shifting weight. “Delia seems to have developed a biting problem.”

There was a thick silence in the room that enveloped all three of them. Beca could hear his heart pounding, and the coffee machine that was a few rooms over. The secretary that welcomed them in was playing Solitaire on her browser- and Chloe was suddenly giggling uncontrollably.

Beca stared at her, mouth ajar, and so did Mr. Ramone. A little more reserved but eyebrows raised. They waited for her to finish, snorting as she struggled to gain control. “No, no, I’m sorry- I’m listening, I just… continue, please.”

“Okay,” He sounded out the word. “Like I was saying, she hasn’t bitten down hard enough to break skin yet. But we don’t want it to escalate to that.”

Ramone slid a paper over to the two of them. One that Beca took possession. Chloe grinning like a jester as she looked over the girl's shoulder. There were a couple of books on how to get a child to stop biting and different methods that they can try.

“we have people here specifically trained to quell this too.” He said, glancing at Chloe as she pressed her fingers against her lips to hold back a building laugh. “But we usually let the parents try their own methods first.”

Beca nodded “Thank you, Mr. Ramone. We’ll get right on this, right Chloe?”

“Yeah, yes.” She nodded innocently. “Thank you for calling this to our attention.”

Chloe had waited until they got all the way back to let another outburst escape her lips, tears in her eyes as she chuckled to herself. Beca was not able to stifle her own smile. “Chloe this isn’t funny. She clearly learned the habit from us-“

“It’s a little funny!” She sniffed “Come on, dear. We are quite literally blood-sucking demons. I’m quite shocked Florence didn’t’ pick up on the habit too.”

Beca let out a small groan before shoving the paper that Mr. Ramone had given them into her wife’s grasp. Chloe frowning down at the book suggestions that were scrawled in black ink. “I’ll meet you back at home, then? After you go get those.”

“How did I get stuck with this?”

“Simple,” Beca beamed, slinking her arms over Chloe’s shoulders with a demonic smile “For once in my eternal life I controlled myself in there, and you didn’t.”

#Beca Mitchell #Chloe Beale #Bechloe #bechloe fanfiction #bechloe fic rec #vampire au #request

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hope-for-olicity · 5 years

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Fabulous Olicity Fanfic Friday - September 6th, 2019

Happy Friday! So this is my attempt to both thank awesome fanfic writers for their amazing work and offer my recommendations to anyone who is interested. Here are the fantastic fanfic stories I read this week! They are posted in the order I read them. This and all previous Fabulous Olicity Fanfic posts can be found on my blog.

That's The Way It Is multi-chapter WIP by @stephswims - Felicity Smoak was arranged to marry Oliver Queen and uphold the Queen values and image. She complies to protect her own family name, but it's not what she really wants. Just for once, she wants to be able to decide her own future. https://archiveofourown.org/works/19288078/chapters/45874270

all love's luxuries (are here for you and me) multi-chapter WIP by @allimariexf - “One time.” “What?” “One time, to get it out of our systems.” “Felicity -” she doesn’t cut him off, but he stops because he has no idea what he planned to say. “Is that really a good idea?” Because despite everything he wants it. Oh god, he wants her. “No, it’s probably a terrible idea. But it can’t be worse than this.” OR: The angsty smutty tropey one-time-to-get-it-out-of-our-systems season 3 fic that no one asked for! https://archiveofourown.org/works/20332912/chapters/48210763

Sometimes Life Drops Right Into Your Lap multi-chapter Complete by @bytemegeekette - AU - Oliver, recently unengaged decides a vacation away from Starling is a good idea. He just needs a change, little does he know that he's just one flight away from a life changing meeting. https://archiveofourown.org/works/4019701/chapters/9034888

Broken Bones, Mended Hearts multi-chapter WIP by andachippedcup - After a car crash leaves Oliver with a traumatic brain injury and unable to see, he finds himself hospitalized in a semi-private room. Though he can't see her, he takes comfort in speaking to his neighbor on the other side of the curtain: Felicity, recently hospitalized for a fractured neck, leaving her in traction and unable to move. Together, they help each other heal. [Olicity Summer Sizzle - Neighbors AU] https://archiveofourown.org/works/20057098/chapters/47499772

Helplessly Wrecked multi-chapter WIP by @cruzrogue - A very smart, passionate, woman. Worked to get her dual masters from MIT, it may have taken longer being a mother of triplets but at least she has her mother’s support. Oliver Queen still has a yacht incident and was marooned for shorter time frame on a real deserted island. He never flunked out of his Ivy League schooling and is a very sought-after bachelor. His relationships never last more than half a year and is known to throw himself into his work. His motto ‘work hard play harder’. https://archiveofourown.org/works/19194103/chapters/45628978

Falling for an Angel multi-chapter WIP by @missafairy - What happens if an angel falls from the sky? Oliver Queen is a respected club owner in his hometown - Starling City. His life abruptly changes when one night he finds a beautiful girl claiming to have fallen from heaven. With her wings tucked into a jacket he helps her navigate her now human life while trying not to fall in love. Nothing can go wrong even if she drinks all of his coffee and cries in the shower, right? http://archiveofourown.org/works/9368912/chapters/21209975

Time for a Story multi-chapter WIP by @smkkbert - This fic shows Olicity and their life as a (married) couple with family. Although Olicity (and their kids) are the protagonists, other characters of Arrow and Flash make appearances. YOU NEED THIS STORY IN YOUR LIFE. https://archiveofourown.org/works/3912157/chapters/8757172

Providence multi-chapter WIP by @so-caffeinated - Will Queen has struggled in silence in the year since he was shot. But when a shadowy crime lord known as Domino targets the only woman Will’s ever truly loved, fate forces him to confront his demons in ways he never could have imagined… Whether he wants to or not. Amelia Prescott has fought to take control of her life since learning two years ago that her personal and professional worlds were manipulated by others. But nothing can prepare her for just how hard she'll have to fight to set her own course, especially when her heart belongs to a damaged man and a crime lord threatens her every professional move... And her life. Destiny brings them together, but as chaos reigns and personal demons haunt Will and Amelia both, it may also threaten to tear them apart. https://archiveofourown.org/works/17919056/chapters/42308753

little wonders (twists and turns of fate) multi-chapter WIP by @alexiablackbriar13 - Oliver and Felicity's drunken mistake of a hook-up in the bunker comes with unexpected consequences in the form of a... souvenir. Deciding to remain romantically uninvolved, the two of them will have to battle all the trials and tribulations of maintaining a platonic relationship while Felicity is pregnant and the two of them are living together, coping with all the emotional baggage that they both bring to the table - and dealing with the fact that they are still very much in love with each other, but scarred by the events that broke them apart in the first place. https://archiveofourown.org/works/19436164/chapters/46256896

Kerosene and Desire multi-chapter WIP by @smoaking-greenarrow - An Olicity Notebook AU with a darker twist. https://archiveofourown.org/works/18082427/chapters/42741014

Let's Take it Slow... by @lostolicityscenes - I wrote this during the story arc where Felicity was in the wheelchair, but I guess I forgot to post. This is just a drabble that I started and then never took anywhere. But, I’m posting it anyway. I hope you like it. https://lostolicityscenes.tumblr.com/post/187453316551/lets-just-take-it-slow

Forget Me Not multi-chapter WIP by @mindramblingsfics - Felicity was presumed dead after The Gambit was shipwrecked and she went missing. As the one year anniversary of her death approaches, a miracle happens and she is found. Just when Oliver thinks the universe has given them a second chance, he learns Felicity barely remembers him and the memories of their love together are gone entirely. Oliver and Felicity’s journey after they reunite prove to be a tough road ahead, and then they learn that Felicity’s accident may have had a more sinister motive behind it. https://archiveofourown.org/works/18392291/chapters/43556987

Math Tutors and Keys by @felicityollies - Oliver asks Felicity to tutor William in math. (6x03 speculative fic // some spoilers) https://archiveofourown.org/works/12431562

One Plus One Equals Three multi-chapter WIP by @perfectlittlesoul - a glimpse into the happy married life of Olicity http://archiveofourown.org/works/8323096/chapters/19061818

Hidden multi-chapter Complete by LittleMissMint - Felicity is three months pregnant and hasn’t told anyone... (to be set as an AU parallel to Season 6) https://archiveofourown.org/works/12453663/chapters/28340631#workskin

Begin Again multi-chapter WIP by @smoakingarrow19 - An alternate reality with Felicity & Oliver. Tragedy struck and Felicity finds herself in the one place she spent years running from. Felicity must face what and who she has been running from. After all, her childhood is what made her who she is today, the good the bad and the ugly. However, returning home is not all doom and gloom for Felicity, this catastrophic event meant she would see her childhood friend, Oliver Queen. https://archiveofourown.org/works/12496476/chapters/28450560

You Can't Afford Him multi-chapter WIP by @quiveringbunny - Oliver and Felicity, still strained after returning from Lian Yu following the takedown of Slade Wilson, take on roles that challenge their buried feelings when they go undercover to investigate a dangerous arms dealer. A Macau casino. A luxury suite. Suspenders. Lucky red panties. What could go wrong? https://archiveofourown.org/works/18338246/chapters/43413185

Mothers Know Best multi-chapter WIP by @smkkbert - Since they have been kids, they have been best friends. Since they have been friends, their mothers wanted them to be together. After coming back from the east coast, Felicity takes over a position at Queen Consolidated, the company her best friend will soon take over from his father. Their mothers still jjpush for them to be together, and they seem closer to that goal than ever because wedding bells are ringing. The only problem is that they both plan to get married to someone else. https://archiveofourown.org/works/18921118/chapters/44918146

The Donor multi-chapter Complete by @spaztronautwriter - Felicity Smoak has always dreamed of being a mother and she isn't going to let a little thing like men stop her from making that dream come true. Having a baby by herself might just be biting off a little more than she can chew, but one way or the other it's about to change her whole life. LOVE THIS SO MUCH! http://archiveofourown.org/works/11099361

// @emmaamelia95 // @mel-loves-all // @oliverfel4 // @green-arrows-of-karamel // @coal000 // @miriam1779 // @memcjo// @captainolicitysbedroom // @tdgal1 // @spaztronautwriter // @lalawo1// @quiveringbunny // @wrongshipper // @thebookjumper// @vaelisamaza // @myhauntedblacksoul // @lovelycssefan // @laurabelle2930 // @laxit21 // - let me know if you want to be tagged or untagged!

#FabulousOlicityFanficFriday #olicity fanfiction #fic recs

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thedevillord-writes · 5 years

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Pandora - Leave

"You get use to someone—start to like them, even—and they leave. In the end, everyone leaves"

-Rachel Ward

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

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Go ahead."

He had no idea what she was about to throw at him, though the only thing Yosuke cared about at the moment was the fact that she spoke. He was worried, and those who knew him well would laugh in his face if he told them he was worried about someone else. In fact, Yosuke wanted to laugh at himself. He never thought the day when he took care of someone else would ever arrive.

"Have you ever loved someone?"

Haruka's question was unexpected, so much so that it took Yosuke a little while before it registered. It should not be a tough question, not for anyone else at least. Yet, he was finding it hard to answer truthfully. Did he ever love someone? Yosuke would like to say no, but something deep in his guts was telling him to say yes. Her face popped up in his mind instantly though Yosuke was hesitant. He was young back then, did he even know what love was? Did he know what love was even now?

Waiting for Yosuke's answer, Haruka could not help but notice how quiet he went. She did not mean much by the question itself, simply wanting some clarity from his answer. She had been denying her own feelings for Eisuke for a long time, so suppressed that she did not know when these feelings started to develop in the first place. She had no idea how Yosuke's answer would help her think but seeing the way he was reacting did; his answer was written on his face. How his eyebrows knitted together because he was trying to make sense of his own feelings. Did that count as love? Did this count as love? Seeing how human he was being relieved her somehow.

"You don't have to answer if you don't want to."

"I did," Yosuke nodded, looking at her with a smile. "I did a long time ago. I'm not sure if you would consider it love, and I sure as hell did not back then. But looking back, the things I did was probably because I loved her."

"Is it the pianist?"

"Now you're just prying."

Yosuke looked away, breaking eye contact. Even without a degree in psychology, she knew he was avoiding her. He knew he was being obvious, but he could not risk Haruka reading him any further. She was too observant for her own good; a good quality in a secretary but absolutely terrible to find in a friend. There were many things that Yosuke kept buried deep down, he was not about to let them surface just from one look.

"You asked me before if I finally came to terms with the fact that I've fallen in love with Mr. Ichinomiya," Haruka said softly, looking down at her hand. "I avoided your question back then but...I have an answer now. I'm in love with him. I love Mr. Ichinomiya so much that it hurts. But I stand by what I said before, that we don't belong together. And this," she raised her hand to show him her wound, "this is proof that we don't belong together. That pain is all that comes out of it."

"You remind me of her."

"Who? The pianist?"

"The girl I was in love with." Yosuke stopped himself before he said anything else. He let his guard down. Whether or not she intentionally did it, this woman somehow went around and found another way to dig into his past. Still, he would not be revealing too much. "You two are very similar. Both of you came from broken families, grew up in tough environments, yet you still looked at the world and see the good. But you only see the good in others, you don't see it in yourself. Correction, you never see good happening to you."

As she expected, Yosuke's words were clarifying. Growing up the way she did, it was hard to believe that anything fortunate would ever happen to her. Landing the job as Eisuke's secretary was the only moment in life in which she would consider herself lucky. Even so, she kept telling herself that she had used up an entire lifetime of luck just to get the job and anything else fortunate was no longer hers to have. Was that why she kept rejecting the idea of a relationship with Eisuke? Because she was not 'lucky' enough to have him? Or was it just an excuse for her to feel sorry for herself as with everything else?

Putting his hand on her head, Yosuke gave her a smile as he cleared away the first aid kit. Talking to her had him realising why he was so attracted to Haruka in the first place. He was not interested in her per se, but rather, she reminded him of her. All these years, Yosuke buried memories of her deep down as he did with anything else that could possibly hurt him. Each time he became determined to forget her completely, he ended up searching for updates on her instead. Then he met Haruka who, despite the vastly different background, uncannily resembled her in every way personality wise. That was the true reason why he was so willing to play along with Haruka, so determined to form some sort of relationship, and helping her in ways he never helped others when she needed it.

"There's a guest room just down the hall on your right," Yosuke pointed. "I'm guessing you wouldn't want to go home after all that happened. You're more than welcome to stay the night but please do not snoop around. Although, I wouldn't mind if you snooped into my room."

"And here I am, thinking what a good man you really are until you ruined it."

~.~

He made a mistake. A huge mistake.

Eisuke's empire did not come easy. He worked for years just to come up with a plan for the hotel itself. Then, he had to fight to have a casino built. Everything he had was possible because Haruka was there by his side, working all those late nights together. And while she was the one who typed up proposal after proposal, Haruka was not the one who fought for the bill to be passed so he could have his casino. It was men like Junko's father, politicians those proposals went to. Politicians he had to butter up at events. It did not matter how much he hated it, they were the ones he needed to please. Which meant pleasing people like Junko whose father was one of those politicians.

"Could I stay with you tonight, Eisuke?" Junko asked, snaking her arm around his though Eisuke was quick to pull away. "If my father saw the state I'm in now, he would be asking questions and we don't want that. I'm sure your secretary didn't mean to hurt me."

Anger was quick to boil over when Eisuke turned and grabbed Junko by the neck, slamming her against the wall. Thank goodness they were alone in the basement parking, though he was aware of the security cameras all around them. He could not care less at this point. He knew. She knew. Almost everyone knew that Haruka was not the culprit in the incident. But no one dared to say a word for the same reason why Eisuke was not with Haruka right now: they were afraid of her father. He was too, if he was being honest, but he could take it no longer.

"You and I both know that Haruka was no in fault," Eisuke said, his tone was quiet but harsh. He squeezed tighter and Junko let out a muffled squeal, clawing at his hand for him to let go. He wanted to. He wanted to, so very badly, to squeeze the literal life out of her. "If you touch her again, you will regret it. If anything happens to Haruka, whether it's your fault or not, I will be coming for you. Do you understand?"

"Y-yes..."

Watching as her face was slowly drained of colours, Eisuke eventually let her go. Junko dropped to the ground and gasped for air, glaring up at him. He turned and walked away without so much of a second look at her, going to his car. Eisuke knew what he just did was essentially suicide. It was always recommended to make friends with politicians, not enemies. Those days were gone. He lived his early years as a young adult afraid of people like the Inoue's. He had watched his own father kissing up to them, even Akira. He was, however, at a position of power himself.

Getting into his car, Eisuke paused for a moment. He let out a huge sigh, closing his eyes and leaned back in his seat. It was true that he no longer needed Junko's father on his side but it was never a good idea to make an enemy. Now he had to be on guard and put time aside to deal with him if the politician ever decided to cause him trouble. Was it worth it? Was Haruka worth all this trouble?

With only one thought in mind, he started driving off. There was only one place in mind where he wanted to be right now but it was not home. Home meant nothing to him; it was always just a place to sleep or simply another office. In recent years though, he realised that he was looking forward to getting home after events because it meant he would see Haruka the next day. Home started to mean something to him. Home was where she was.

Arriving at the apartment complex, Eisuke parked the car by the roadside and got out. He walked up the stairs to Haruka's studio apartment, pressing the doorbell and waited for her to open the door. Five minutes went by and still the door was closed. He pressed the doorbell once more and waited another five minutes with no response. He stepped to the side and looked over the railing to see the lights off inside the apartment. Was she not home? Where else would she go if not home with that injury of hers?

Despite waiting for the next half an hour by the door, Haruka never returned. He did not leave, however. He went back to his car and got in but instead of starting the engine, he sat waiting. She had to come home, if not now, some time later.

But she never did.

He was not sure when he fell asleep but when he woke again, it was already morning. Getting out of his car and putting his suit jacket on, he went up the stairs again and pressed the doorbell. This time, the door opened. The person on the other side, however, was not someone he expected. Instead of Haruka, he was greeted by the last person he thought he would ever see. Standing right in front of him with a bag in his hand was Yosuke.

"What are you doing here?" Eisuke asked.

"Packing for Haruka," Yosuke smiled, raising the bag at the same time. "She stayed over at mine."

Haruka never came home?

Looking over Yosuke's shoulder, Eisuke was trying to see if his secretary was home though the irritating man stepped to the side at the same time and blocked his view. The tension between the two men was unbelievably high and neither of them was backing down. There was still a lot that Eisuke did not know about Yosuke though he did know one thing: he was close with Haruka somehow.

"Have you got everything, Yosuke-kun?"

"Yes, I have. Thank you so much for helping out, Tsubaki-san."

Another voice came from inside the apartment and an elderly woman came walking out. "Oh, well who is this?" Eisuke had never seen the woman before. She seemed to know Yosuke quite well, however, and being in the apartment meant she knew Haruka somehow. It only added to Eisuke's inexplicable hatred toward Yosuke. There was a part of Haruka's life that he knew nothing about, that he was not a part of. But Yosuke was.

Coming to that realisation, Eisuke finally understood why he did not like Yosuke. It was not because he was another man in Haruka's life; that played an extremely small part. It was the fact that with Yosuke's appearance, it was brought to light that Eisuke knew nothing about his secretary. The woman who knew everything there was to know about Eisuke, down to the most private details about his lifestyle and history. The same woman who would know exactly what was on his mind with just a simple hand movement. However, as it turned out, Eisuke was just a small part of her life and he had nothing to do with the rest.

"That's Haruka's boss," Yosuke whispered.

"Ah..." Tsubaki mumbled, looking at Eisuke with displeased eyes. "The one who works my precious Haruka-chan to death."

Whoever the woman was to Haruka, she certainly did not like Eisuke. She was as over the moon as Haruka was when she came running home one day, telling Tsubaki that she finally found a job. A good paying job too. They celebrated that night, eating all of Haruka's favourite food and watched her favourite movies until they fell asleep on the sofa together. The next day, Tsubaki took her shopping and bought her a new set of clothes so she could look decent at work. Haruka treated her to an expensive lunch and paid off all her rent with her first pay. Tsubaki never felt more proud of her.

Then it was only heartbreak from there.

She used to see Haruka almost every night for dinner and slowly, it became a few nights per week, one night a week, and eventually they did not see each other until the day Haruka came to pay for her rent. The times Tsubaki did see her, the young woman would always be too tired and looked as if she would collapse any second though she always insisted she was fine. Despite never meeting him, Tsubaki started to despise Eisuke since.

"Well, I've got to go," Yosuke said, giving the woman a hug before looking to Eisuke though he did not say anything as he walked past the man. Caught by the elbow, Yosuke frowned a little and was prepared for some violence though he was pleasantly surprised what came from Eisuke instead.

"You didn't take her to the hospital, did you?"

"She said no hospital, so I didn't."

"If anything happens to her-"

"Nothing will happen to Haruka. Not while she's under my care."

Pushing Eisuke's hand off his elbow, Yosuke left. There was nothing Eisuke could do either, except letting him go. He wanted to punch Yosuke's smug face but that was not going to bring Haruka back. It would not help his image with Tsubaki either. If she was happier elsewhere, then perhaps he should let her be.

With a polite bow to Tsubaki, Eisuke left too and went back to his car. This time, he started the engine and drove off, going back to the hotel. He was not letting Haruka go, not completely anyway. If she needed the time to be away, he would gladly allow her that time alone. He came to terms with her wanting a six months leave, surely he could too with this. He would wait for her to come back patiently. She was the only person in this world he was willing to wait for. Little did he know what was waiting for him back home.

~.~

Yumi pulled the door open slightly, peeking in. She kept eyeing the desk, specifically a letter sitting on top of all the files Eisuke left on the desk. Eisuke had not been back all night, neither was he here in the morning, which meant he had not seen the letter. Since her boss had not returned, this was the only time she could sneak in and retrieve the letter before he saw it. There was, however, one thing hanging in her mind.

It was not a set rule but rather, an advice that Haruka passed onto Yumi. If Eisuke was not present, it would be smart on her side if she did not enter his office. This was to protect herself in case of trouble. If anything were to go missing from his office, Yumi could say with confidence that she had not been in his office when he was absent. She was debating, however, whether or not it was worth the risk in order to destroy the letter.

When Haruka came that morning to drop it off, Yumi was caught off guard. She was certain that Eisuke had no knowledge of the letter, nor would he have wanted to see the letter at all. After eight years of having Haruka by his side, there was no way he would accept that envelope even without looking at the letter inside.

"What are you doing?"

"Mr. Ichinomiya!"

Startled, Yumi closed the door and pressed her back against it, turning to see Eisuke standing behind her. Her eyes were wide like a prey's, while Eisuke was glaring at her like a predator. Haruka reassured her that she would get used to the intimidating glares sooner or later. Yumi, on the other hand, felt as if she would never be used to it. Every time she looked him in the eyes, she felt small and threatened, too afraid to object.

"What's the schedule today?" Eisuke asked, opening the door.

"Um...You have a meeting after lunch. Mr. Nakano's secretary sent over a proposal, if there's no problem then you could sign and send back."

As she spoke, following behind Eisuke, Yumi had her eyes on the envelope. When Eisuke was taking his suit jacket off, Yumi took the chance and grabbed the letter but she was not fast enough. With one finger, Eisuke pressed down on the envelope. Beating herself internally, Yumi let go of the letter. Opening the letter, Eisuke only read the first line when he tore the letter up.

"What the hell is this?"

"Haruka-san came in this morning and she put it on your desk. I've tried convincing her but she said this is the only way."

"Only way?"

"I don't understand what she meant..."

Dear Mr. Ichinomiya Eisuke,

Please accept this letter as a notice of my resignation from my position as your secretary, effective immediately.

Unfortunately my personal issues are affecting my ability to work, and after careful consideration, it would be best for both of us if I resign from my position.

It has been a pleasure working for you and under Ichinomiya Group over the last eight years. I am grateful for the opportunities you gave me and everything that I learnt from the job. I am more than happy to aide with the transition of my position to Miss Miyazawa Yumi, although I am confident that she is competent enough as of now.

Once again, it had been a pleasure working for you and I wish you all the best.

Sincerely,

Matsuoka Haruka

#pdr ch14 #kissed by the baddest bidder #kbtbb #kings of paradise #kop #eisuke ichinomiya #yosuke sagara #voltage inc #i am finally updating after a million years #please forgive my procrastinating ass

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fulcrumahsokaamidala · 5 years

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Saturday Spectacular #13

Happy Saturday!!! So this is me thanking awesome fanfic writers for their amazing work and all the time they put into their fics. ♥️ I want to recommend spectacular fanfic stories I read this week! ♥️ They are posted in the order I read them. All posts will be tagged #saturday spectacular fic rec

Dark Beauty by @oliversmuse | Arrow | WIP

Summary: Meet Dr. Oliver Queen, local psychiatrist who specializes in PTSD due to his own experiences. He has finally settled into a normal life and his practice is going well. Then one day in walks Felicity Smoak, local mob boss. She is looking to change her ways, to escape the violence and death that has been her reality for far too long. She wants to change but her business keeps dragging her back to that dark place she is trying to escape. Can Dr. Queen see the light inside of her and help her change her ways??

Of Shadows and Monsters by @thatmasquedgirl | Arrow | WIP

Summary: Before she became the Vengeance of Starling, Felicity Smoak was Felicity Kuttler. Then she picked up a sword. Snapshots from Felicity's life before she met Oliver. Potential spoilers if you haven't read as far as "Knife in a Gunfight." Rated M for a whole lot of violence and language. Title (and chapter titles) shamelessly taken from lyrics from Halsey's "Control."

AOSFicNet2 Challenge - July - A True Drabble by @lilsciencequeen | Agents of Shield | WIP

Summary: The drabbles (and double and triple drabbles) I wrote for the July AOSFicNet2 Challenge.

You Can’t Afford Him by @quiveringbunny | Arrow | WIP

Summary: Oliver and Felicity, still strained after returning from Lian Yu following the takedown of Slade Wilson, take on roles that challenge their buried feelings when they go undercover to investigate a dangerous arms dealer. A Macau casino. A luxury suite. Suspenders. Lucky red panties. What could go wrong?

The Hardest Part by @smoaking-greenarrow | Arrow | One-shot

Summary: What if Felicity found out she was pregnant with Lucas after Oliver left and she'd have to raise both of their kids without him. Then Oliver would come back five years later to check on his girls only to find Mia playing with a slightly younger boy who looks exactly like him.

"Time for a story” Drabble Series by @smkkbert | Arrow | WIP

Summary: This fic shows Olicity and their life as a (married) couple with family. Although Olicity (and their kids) are the protagonists, other characters of Arrow and Flash make appearances. It started as a drabble series, but developed more and more into a full domectic AU. Although some chapters are still drabble-like, there are longer storylines by now.

flower of the universe (child of mine) by @felicityollies | Arrow | One-Shot

Summary: a very quiet fourth of july with the smoak-queen family.

Providence by @so-caffeinated | Arrow | WIP

Summary: Will Queen has struggled in silence in the year since he was shot. But when a shadowy crime lord known as Domino targets the only woman Will’s ever truly loved, fate forces him to confront his demons in ways he never could have imagined… Whether he wants to or not. Amelia Prescott has fought to take control of her life since learning two years ago that her personal and professional worlds were manipulated by others. But nothing can prepare her for just how hard she’ll have to fight to set her own course, especially when her heart belongs to a damaged man and a crime lord threatens her every professional move… And her life. Destiny brings them together, but as chaos reigns and personal demons haunt Will and Amelia both, it may also threaten to tear them apart.

(i want to) save that light by @callistawolf | Arrow | Completed

Summary: What if one little thing changed in the history of Arrow? What if, instead of going to Laurel’s apartment after discovering the extent of Merlyn’s plans for the Glades, Oliver stayed at the foundry and talked to Felicity instead? This series of short vignettes explores some of the ripple-effect changes that could take place throughout the next season as a result of this one, fortuitous change.

an evening walk by @yespleasehawkeyee | Arrow | One-shot

Summary: On a peaceful, summer evening walk, Felicity and Oliver take stock on the most important thing to consider when living with ex-agents and soldiers. Have our neighbors tried to kill us?

gray henleys and fluffy purple socks by @alexiablackbriar13 | Arrow | Oneshot

Summary: Felicity and Oliver have taken to sharing their clothes recently since discovering she’s pregnant. Well - it’s not really sharing. It’s very one-sided and originating from Felicity, and it’s more stealing than anything else.

little wonders (twists and turns of fate) by @alexiablackbriar13 | Arrow | WIP

Summary: Oliver and Felicity’s drunken mistake of a hook-up in the bunker comes with unexpected consequences in the form of a… souvenir. Deciding to remain romantically uninvolved, the two of them will have to battle all the trials and tribulations of maintaining a platonic relationship while Felicity is pregnant and the two of them are living together, coping with all the emotional baggage that they both bring to the table - and dealing with the fact that they are still very much in love with each other, but scarred by the events that broke them apart in the first place.

Liquid Courage by @oliversmuse | Arrow | Completed

Summary: Felicity has been upstairs at the bar drinking mimosa's when she decides to go back down to the lair and get her purse to head home for the night. Oliver and Diggle realize that she is tipsy so Oliver decides to take her home. However after Diggle leaves them alone Felicity says and does some things that she would never do sober and Oliver quickly finds that his feelings for his IT girl run deep.

ink stains and dumbbells by inlovewithimpossibility | Arrow | WIP

Summary: “Hey Dynasties, Oliver here coming at you with another video!”

“Hi guys, welcome back to Ghost Fox Goddess, I am Felicity Smoak.”

When one half of YouTube duo, Queen-Merlyn Dynasty, lands himself in hot water with Principal Wilson due to failing grades, Oliver knows that he needs to step up his game. The principal recommends a tutor but little does Oliver know that she’s also a successful YouTuber. The two of them set out on filming a collab but neither anticipates how popular their videos will be or the insane reaction the sight of the two of them on screen together will gain from the fans.

Mothers know best by @smkkbert | Arrow | WIP

Summary: Since they have been kids, they have been best friends. Since they have been friends, their mothers wanted them to be together. After coming back from the east coast, Felicity takes over a position at Queen Consolidated, the company her best friend will soon take over from his father. Their mothers still push for them to be together, and they seem closer to that goal than ever because wedding bells are ringing. The only problem is that they both plan to get married to someone else.

My Songs Know What You Did In The Dark by @tangled23works | Arrow | WIP

Summary: This is a collection of scenes I've written but will probably never have the time to publish as part of a larger fic. Sometimes, there are stories that need to be told no matter how short they are. Anyway, each chapter is inspired by a song. Enjoy!

Workouts and Babbles by ElasticMonk | Arrow | WIP

Summary: Oliver comes to the rescue of one cute blonde at his gym just as Felicity stumbles upon one handsome mayor at her gym. They both have something in common, but will it bring them happiness?

Artemis by @laxit21 | Arrow | WIP

Summary: When the Queen’s Gambit sank, two people were stranded on Lian Yu. Five years later, four came back.

Daughter of the Demon by @laxit21 | Arrow | WIP

Summary: What if in 1988 while traveling through Las Vegas Ra’s al Ghul bumps into a nice waitress named Donna Smoak and they have one-night stand together? A little bundle of joy named Felicity Smoak is the result. In 2014, the Demon Head becomes aware of his youngest daughter’s existence.

The Ravager by @laxit21 | Arrow | WIP

Summary: Slade Wilson’s plan for revenge against Oliver took time, money and no shortage of lives to pull together. His plan didn’t anticipate Felicity Smoak. How will his plan change now that his lost-lost daughter is working with the very man he’s trying to destroy?

Felicity of Themiscyra by @laxit21 | Arrow | WIP

Summary: Years ago, Donna Smoak left the island of Themiscyra and her sister Queen Hippolyta behind to live in man’s world. She never told Felicity the truth about where she came from. As a result of the Undertaking, Felicity discovers some of her Amazonian abilities and makes an interesting new friend: Diana Prince.

The Daughter That Was Left by @laxit21 | Arrow | WIP

Summary: Before the Gambit, Oliver Queen met QC intern Felicity Smoak. When he boarded the Gambit, he left something behind. Now, five long years later someone is waiting for him.

I Scream But No Sound Comes out by @laxit21 | Arrow | WIP

Summary: When Oliver returns from Lian Yu after five years, he comes back different. What happened there damaged more than just his body. How will his friends and family deal with this new Oliver?

Intruder Alert? by @alexiablackbriar13 | Arrow | One-shot

Summary: Felicity arrives home late to the Smoak-Queen family cabin and for a moment, is scared somebody has broken in. She’s even more shocked to find Mia asleep on the couch with her apparent boyfriend Connor.

Paging Dr. Smoak by @laxit21 | Arrow | WIP

Summary: When Oliver Queen gets into a car accident, he meets Dr. Felicity Smoak. He had no idea how much a chance meeting would change his life.

The Replacement by @realityisoverrated-fic | Arrow | One-shot

Summary: Oliver has named Felicity the new head of Applied Sciences. The only thing standing between Felicity and her new role is finding her replacement as Oliver's Executive Assistant and a pesky peanut allergy.

Did I Forget to Mention That My Dad is a Supervillain? by @laxit21 | Arrow | WIP

Summary: When Felicity told Oliver about her father, she wasn’t lying per se. She wasn’t completely honest either. It’s just that ‘my dad left us’ sounded better than the truth.

Or: A Series of one shots in which Felicity’s dad is a supervillain and we see how Oliver and the team finds out.

#saturday spectacular fic rec #weekly fic recs

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socksual-innuendos · 5 years

Text

So I was tagged by @yesjejunus for this and I’m doing a joint interview with Emi and Cam because why not. Art is also by yesjejunus

What is your name?

E: Who’s askin? C: Camila, and that's my sister Emilia.

How old are you?

E: Old enough to be your mother. Who’s askin?? C: 48, but I don’t really feel it.

What do you look like?

E: Oh, good, I have jokes for this. ‘Why not just check my mug shot’ or 'Who is this interview for, the blind?’ oh! How about ‘use your damn eyes’?

C: Oh, ugh...well I use to have black hair and my skin wasn’t so...the way that it is, haha. Can we please move to the next question?

Where are you from? Where do you live now?

C: Mexico! I don’t remember much of it, actually. I mean I do but not enough of one place. We moved around a lot and most of it just looked like the wastes here. I don’t remember being told when we had made it into America, I don’t think it really clicked until we were half way through Arizona. We still moved around once we made it into the States and up until a few months ago we didn’t have a home. But we sort of do now! Right Em?

E: Yeah, we’ll see.

What was your childhood like?

E: Just like everyone else’s in some ways. Good at times, shitty at times, getting into way too much trouble at times. Heh, you know, the usual kid stuff and more.

C: Even when papa was around we still stayed with host families. Emi and Abuelita always seemed to be out doing something, mostly work I think, not that I could ever join them. When I was real little I would get sick so much. Papa wouldn’t let me out unsupervised, but he did trust Emi to take me places. Once he was gone things got a lot more strict. I think the host families didn’t want to chance me getting hurt or more sick. Abuelita agreed with them, but Emi would sneak me out and we’d play.

What groups are you friendly with? Are you allied with any factions?

E: I’m friendly with plenty, whether or not they’re friendly with me is their problem. I guess the Chairmen are fine with me, BAH! I know the Omertas have it out for me, and if those damn pretentious White Chode Society fucks didn’t make a steak as good as they do they’d be a hole in the ground. Who else is there? No one that matters I guess-- Wait, those Boomers might be batshit but they know how to have a party!

C: Oh! I’d like to think I’m friends with the Chairmen, but they’re really just my employers. Swank is nice, a bit of a flirt but he’s like that with everyone. Tommy is sweet too! He can be tough during practice but I can’t fault him for that. Although Emi doesn’t really like them I love the White Glove Society! They really make you feel like royalty-- And their spa is amazing. There’s nowhere like it in the world I swear. I just really enjoy their casino....Um, other than that I don’t really know any other factions. The Kings are funny, but Emi doesn’t really want me in Freeside without her or Cass or Arcade. She also says I am absolutely not to go near Gomorrah. I’ll admit I’m curious but it doesn’t really seem like a place you’d want to wear open toed shoes, you know?

Tell me about your best friend.

E: Only got Camila and Raul, really. Arcade’s good, a bit too idealistic for his age but whatever keeps you goin. Cass is pretty independent, but it’s part of why I like her.

C: I have so many now! There’s Veronica, she’s probably the closest I’m to, oh and Sarah. I love my sister dearly but she was never into girlish things. But I have those two now! And they love doing all that stuff. Swank gives me a hard time when he comes around The Aces, but it’s all in good fun. Arcade is teaching me how to do computers, and it’s really helping with the Vault hotel. He’s a bit prickly but he still wants to teach me. I really do love them! I know she’s pretty defensive about our living space but I’m glad Emilia includes them in the 38, this place gets too big and lonely without people.

Do you have a family? Tell me about them!

E: Cam’s all I need. And Raul’s here now. The others are nice to have around but...Family’s special.

C: There use to be more of us...I never knew mom but Emi’s told me of her. Xiomara was my abuelita’s name, and my papa was around only when I was little. Then there was-- well, it’s not my place to say. Oh, but I have Raul now too. And Veronica, and Arcade, n Cass, Boone....they count. To me they do.

What about a partner or partners?

E: Nope. Don’t need one. Not in that sense anyway. I don’t mind having regular lovers, but I don’t get attached like that. Friends suit me just fine.

C: Not for me no. I mean I haven’t really thought of anyone like that...I haven’t really had the chance to. I mean I’ve thought about it before but nothing serious and definitely not at anyone in particular. I think it would be nice...but I’m just not sure.

Who are your enemies, and why?

E: Enemies? Now why would anyone want to be enemies with me, I am nothing short of a delight. Although, I will say the Garrets’ opinions of me vary with how hefty my tab is.

C: I really hope I don’t have enemies. I just got friends! One thing at a time please.

Have you ever heard of The Brotherhood of Steel? What do you think about them?

E: Brotherhood of Kiss My Ass! Don’t get me wrong, they have cool shit and I love their archives but as long as New Vegas is what it is and as long as they do how they do, I hate them.

C: Veronica’s told me a lot about them. Aside from the obvious, um, flaws, they sound interesting. I know Emi loves history stuff...This seems really complicated...

What about The Enclave?

E: Never heard of ‘em.

C: The who now?

How do you feel about Super Mutants?

C: I haven’t had the chance to properly meet any. Emi says some are like us and that others are just mindless and violent. We had heard about Jacobstown, that’s part of the reason we’re up here actually. Apparently its a home for the mutated. It sounded like a good idea at first-- it certainly was a smart one but...I like Vegas.

E: Tough sonsofbitches. They have no right being as fast as they are. Clumsy in close combat though.

What’s the craziest fight you’ve ever been in?

E: Well, it wasn’t the craziest but I did get in a scuff with a mark’s security guard on top of a building. We ended up rolling off, and when I tried grappling my leg had tangled in my climbing cable-- That’s what fucked up my knee-- I ended up hitting the side of the building, having the wind knocked out of me, and then alerted the rest of the security team of an intruder when I broke a window to get back inside. Trying to get out of there with a dislocated knee was probably one of the best and worst adrenaline rushes I’ve had.

C: Once Rosa and I had a really big miscommunication. I think that was the first time we ever got legitimately mad at each other. She ran off too cool down but I got worried and ah-- Um, things turned out fine, thankfully. Yeah.

Have you ever fought a Deathclaw?

E: Several, actually. Wait-- Ha! Actually, ask Arcade about this, I’m sure he’d love to tell you the story.

C: Heavens no! I haven’t even seen one outside of pictures. They look terrifying, and Emilia says they’re very territorial and very aggressive. Hopefully I never have to. Although, Emi has said if I’ve ever wanted to see one we could go to the Thorn but animal fights? That seems needlessly cruel.

Do you like fighting?

E: Hell yeah!

C: I don’t have the energy for conflict. I’d much rather talk it out, like adults. [Camila glares at Emilia]

What’s your weapon of choice?

E: Depends on the job. I love my sniper rifle, but sometimes a trick shot doesn’t have the right flair to it. It’s really about reading the situation and seeing whats available. Sure, you can blast someone’s brains out 2,000 meters away but where’s the fun in distance if no one knows how far it really is. Now, making a big deal out of a target, there’s the fun. You have to personalize each kill, let the mark and the world how premeditated it was. No, it didn’t have to be that complicated, but it was and someone put the effort in. That’s the sort of thing that let’s people know you’re better than them.

C: I suppose a mic. I’m not really trained in anything, and I don’t really have a preference towards a weapon? Emi really should teach me but last time I brought it up...I’ll ask Raul.

How do you survive? Your wits, your charm, your skills, brute force, some combination? (a.k.a. what’s your S.P.E.C.I.A.L?)

E: It’s all skill baby. I give a prayer and Lord willing I succeed. That and a quick wit is all I need. (S5, P9, E6, C7, I6, A10, L0)

C: I mostly relied on Emilia to survive. Things have been complicated in the past, but she did what she needed to do. I try to be as polite and accommodating as I can though, at the very least people leave you alone if you’re not causing trouble. I got a job at the Vault 21 hotel! It doesn’t get as busy as the other places on the Strip, but it’s still something! (S2, P6, E3, C10, I6, A3, L9)

Have you ever been in a vault? What do you think about them?

C: I work at a Vault! Sort of. It’s a hotel now and it’s been mostly destroyed....Sarah’s a bit afraid to be open about it, given how ‘gracious’ Mr. House was, but from what she said it was much more homey when she was little. She’s also told me about Vault life. I guess growing up underground really makes the concept easier huh? I hate being cooped up, but a roof always over her suits her just fine. ‘Though, I guess if the Vaults are as big as she says they were there would be plenty to do inside but...still...

E: I’ve been in a lot. It’s...humbling. All of them have their own unique story and connections to the old world. Reading about some of these people, their lives, their struggles? It’s like looking into other worlds. The dangers out in the wastes are one thing, its nature of man’s sin or the world’s design, but in the Vaults? It can be paradise or tailored evil. When man plays God, everyone suffers. But I suppose they were use to that kind of living. It is life, no? Just like out here. But even then, most of the time Vaults were safe. For those who first stepped out, they left that and saw nothing but, well, this. I can't imagine not having been able to grow up out here. It's shaped me, made me strong, and I can survive because of it. I don't lament my life being hard, like I said it's made me who I am, but I can't help but put myself in their shoes. Having to learn all this after a life in a Vault? That is a cruelty on its own.

How do you beat all the radiation around here? Has it affected you?

C: Well, you can see how it’s effected me. I’m just like any other ghoul I guess. Oh...I don’t think I’ll ever be ready for when my skin really starts to come off. Oh-- Ah! One good thing I suppose! I no longer get sick. I mean, I still get the fatigue and pain but I don’t get colds like I use to. That alone lets me do more than I could when I was a kid. Bright sides, right?

E: I don’t have an extra arm yet, so I don’t think its effected me much. I try to keep radaway on me though, it always has it’s uses.

What’s your favorite wasteland critter?

C: Oh I love bloatflies! They’d kind of ugly, but also sort of cute? Just like me!

E: I’ll admit I have a certain fondness for our nightstalker Sawyer. There’s intelligence behind those eyes...well, some semblance of it anyway. Still, she’s here for a reason. Although...they’re not very common up here-- actually I don’t think I’ve seen any up here, but frogs. I really really love frogs.

What’s your least favorite wasteland critter?

C: RADROACHES. I don’t see too many creatures thankfully but these manage to get everywhere and I hate it!

E: Centaurs are some unholy creation of man and should be purged from this life and the next. They and feral ghouls...I say a prayer for them before I pull the trigger. Whomever they were before they didn’t deserve that.

How do you feel about robots?

E: They’re fine for the most part. Just bits and bobs that can sometimes have a personality, although I’ve seen some being used to cheat death. Those ones are abominations.

C: Yesman! Oh I love him. Ah, I’ve met other robots before too but I never got to know them well. Vegas doesn’t seem to have much aside from securitrons, though.

How many caps do you have on you right now?

C: A lot more than what we--

E: That is absolutely none of their business!

Nuka Cola or Sunset Sarsaparilla?

E: Sarsaparilla, easily.

C: Emi just says that because nuka give her hives!

Do you do chems?

C: Emi made me swear never to touch Med-X. She told me it’s stronger than the stuff we use but nowhere near worth the addiction. I’ve seen some of what she means, so I don’t plan on breaking that promise. Colitas are just fine for me.

E: Some of ‘em yeah. Mostly for work though. Heh, I even make my own brand of kick in the ass. Yeah...Flake’ll get you through just about anything. The high’s crazy but the crash is insane. I mostly prefer the natural stuff. Peyote comes in handy when I need a good bit of life insight.

Do you ever think about the Pre-War world?

E: A lot actually. It’s quite interesting, they lived a lot differently than us but at the same time not. It’s funny to see how routine human nature is.

C: Sometimes. Emi still brings back old world books that she finds and I read them when I feel like it. The one’s with photographs are nice. A snapshot in time, as Emi says. She certainly finds them more interesting than I do.

What’s your deepest regret? What would you do differently?

C: I was very insistent one night, and I wish I hadn’t been. Things would have been different if I had just stayed in bed.

E: Ha! You are asking an assassin what their biggest regret it. There is nothing, I assure you.

What’s your biggest achievement? Or what do you hope to achieve?

C: I got a job! I have a home, I have friends. I’m...normal. Ha!

E: Ah hell, give me a minute to think of the nastiest bastard I’ve ever ‘in’directly put into power...

What do you want for the future? For yourself? Your friends? The world?

E: I’m getting old, I don’t need a future. And I’m just one person, the world will go on when I’m dead. Cam though, she’s got what? Centuries? That’s a long fuckin time to think about. Raul’s tried to tell me what it’s like but it just feels-- It just doesn’t click. No way in hell I’m making it that long. I just have to figure some way of making this place as secure as possible for Camila.

C: I just want to be independent! I love Emi dearly but she’s a bit much at times. Especially now...and I’m scared I won’t be able to do a lot on my own once she’s gone. Vegas is good for me. I have friends here and there’s jobs that I can manage. Even if Emi wants to move again, I’m staying. I have to. I have a future here, I can see it.

#emi #Emilia Vazquez #camila espinosa vazquez #camila #emilia #cam

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uruhaxrukifanfics · 5 years

Note

Can you write their first kiss?? If you haven't already. I love your little fics sm!! 😭😭

Undercover work was Takanori’s least favorite assignment as of lately. And it wasn’t simply because it paired him with Kouyou, their newest asset to the department that had worked his way from being an incarcerated son of a wanted Yakuza oyabun – a criminal Takanori had busted his ass to catch – to a liable source that could aid them with their latest big lead that could bring this home. A liable, willing source that was now his newly assigned partner and, quite literally on paper to make it believable, his “husband.”

If murder were legal, Yutaka would be six feet under in a grave plot with Kouyou in another not too far off. What could have possibly posses Yutaka to pair him with the infuriating man? It was beyond him. It wasn’t like Takanori didn’t understand why. When they weren’t at each other’s throat with banter and teasing meant to rile the other up, they were a match made in heaven. With Takanori’s old track record for theft and eye for manipulating tech and Kouyou’s skilled deception only a well-seasoned con-man could have they were a force to reckon with. Yutaka needed them. Takanori holding his tongue and complying was the least he could do.

Even if it meant wearing a wedding band on the fourth finger of his left hand in a marriage that was a sham for the sake of work. The case.

Visible authenticity to the outside world was all that mattered if they wanted to home in closer to their suspect target. From the leads they had so far, they were potentially eyeing a kyodai rumored to be laying low and out of from under the raider under a pseudonym. The closer they got to him, the closer they got to infiltrating the syndicate. And the moment the did that, the sooner the could capture the wanted oyabun.

It’d been rough, the first few months into their ‘marriage’, sharing a house that didn’t have an inch of framed wedding photos or air to deem it home. If they slept in the same bed, their backs faced each other’s, the bedside empty come the rise of the morning sun. Takanori snored when he sleeps, Kouyou teased, and Takanori retorted that Kouyou had unforgiving morning breath, only to barely resist throwing his coffee mug at Kouyou’s head when Kouyou had the audacity to raise his eyebrows and smugly ask how would he know if he wasn’t trying to make a move on him in his sleep? But to the outside world? They were sheer perfection incarnate.

“I put my hand at the small of his back saying excuse me in the crowded coffee shop - that same coffee shop I pass by all the time yet hardly ever went in except that day - and for a moment I thought, shit, with how quickly he whirled on me, he was going to rip into me for touching him. But he looked at me,” Takanori fought the urge to gag or downright laugh in Kouyou’s face at the loving gaze Kouyou pinned him with whilst smothering down the little foreign flip in his stomach, “and something inside me just… knew. Fate chose us for one another.”

Quite the fucking contrary. Their ‘serendipitous chance’ was an all-out brawl in a Las Vegas casino (that he was still banned from, mind, for the damage done much to Yutaka’s blood pressure-raising horror) where Takanori’s leads led him to Kouyou’s whereabouts at the time, illegal activity up the ass to elongate his track record for the rest of his life, and walked away with a limp in his step, bruises that took weeks to heal, and Kouyou in handcuffs, just as worse. Love wasn’t anywhere near on their agenda, but selling the façade was the goal. So, Takanori smiled and rested his hand over Kouyou’s, allowed him to intertwine their fingers and soak up the dreamy sighs of admiration as Kouyou pressed a chaste kiss to the back of his hand, right where his wedding ring rested, whilst holding his gaze with a concealed, mischievous smirk.

Kouyou was good at what he did, Takanori would give him that. An outstanding liar deserving of a standing ovation, his talent of charismatic charm shining brighter than any star Takanori had ever seen when it wasn’t used to work his last nerve behind closed doors. And if it had, Kouyou had gotten pretty damn good at laughing when catching Takanori’s wrist to pull him into his chest before Takanori could go anywhere else, sniggers in his ear telling him to stay. And Takanori would with little to no fight, a moody grump pliant in Kouyou’s hold made to work from the warmth of his lap with Kouyou’s chin propped on his shoulder to watch and offer his musings. His reason being? Kouyou sucked out what inch of energy he would have to be bothered.

It was the damn house. It felt more of a home with the passing months as they added little things with time in between. Their marriage certificate was framed on the wall in their bedroom over the bed. From sleeping with their backs facing each other to Kouyou being more than comfortable enough to lazily roll across Takanori, mumbling in his sleep, half asleep and out of his mind, grinding his goddamn morning wood into him with a little husky hum riding the precipice of pleasure, “You’d look so good in thigh-highs, you know. The lacy sheer ones, with little belts at the thighs to keep them up.”

To this day Takanori still wasn’t sure what Kouyou had said was intentional or if he was genuinely talking nonsense in sleep, but the weight of morning wood pressing against him with Kouyou’s face in his neck was unmistakable. He didn’t have the slightest bit of regret taking advantage of the position and making quick work to roll and let Kouyou fall in an unceremonious heap on the carpeted floor. If he thought about the husk of Kouyou’s voice in his ear, or how warm Kouyou felt over him for days, weeks to come, it wasn’t any of Kouyou’s business no matter how crabby he was for the ‘cheap shot’ snuck in on a defenseless man while sleeping.

Almost a year in and it hadn’t been the last. Takanori had grown tired of threatening to fling Kouyou off him and Kouyou had become smarter, loosely wrapping himself around Takanori and holding him to his chest when he strayed too far towards the edge of the bed in the middle of the night where Kouyou fussed he’d hurt himself one of these days if he rolled off. It wasn’t like he could help it, just like Kouyou couldn’t help if he got migraines when he went so long without wearing his glasses.

As a team, it was an inconvenience to them both when it boiled down to working, but Takanori made him hot lemon tea regardless, annoyed out of his mind despite the curl of concern in his stomach when Kouyou curled in on himself to shield away from too bright lights and the snap of his scold. Kouyou never listened to a word he told him. He was furiously stubborn with a habit of making inappropriately humoring quips at equally inappropriate times but didn’t speak a word to bring attention to how his hand reached out for the hem of Takanori’s shirt without looking up at him. Like an unseen queue, Takanori sighed and joined him in bed to gentle massage Kouyou’s temples until he fell asleep and stayed. More times than not, Taknaori wasn’t too far behind him for a midday nap, anyway. It only made sense.

There was an endearment to Kouyou Takanori didn’t know could possibly exist. A con-man he was, an exquisite liar, Taknaori could see why Yutaka offered Kouyou the deal he had. But Kouyou was more than the prized leverage they needed. The thorn in his side he’d come to get used to. He was the smell of home cooked meals and rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee while Takanori’s eyes tired from working endlessly on his laptop. He was unexpected bouquets of snort-laughter at lousy jokes and inappropriate innuendo that well deserved the nearest object thrown at him. He was the tune of an unheard song that his fingers danced to up and down Takanori’s spine when he thought Takanori to be asleep at 4AM, pressed into his chest saved from finding his end from his precarious placement near the edge of their bed. He was the carelessly left behind wet towels after a too-hot bath on the carpet that drove Takanori up a wall and barely concealed morose with a touch of a far away small smile every time he overheard Takanori over the phone talking with his mother.

Kouyou danced on the fine line of truth and lie like he was born for it and kept him on his toes. He was a case all on his own Takanori wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to crack no matter how hard he tried, but as Kouyou lured him into slow dancing in the middle of their living room with only Kouyou’s low, distracted singing in English – honey, saccharine and rich with just a hint of an accent slipping in here and there – huskily murmured in his ear the only music they had to keep a tempo, Takanori decided maybe, just maybe, he wouldn’t mind trying.

“My funny valentine…

Sweet, comic valentine…

You make me smile with my heart.

Your looks are laughable, unphotographable,”

Takanori’s head turned. Their noses brushed soft and easy and his jaw slicked in surprised awe, something warm in his stomach as Kouyou brushed the faintest kiss across his lips with the tiniest smile.

“Yet you’re my favorite work of art.”

Maybe. Maybe.

#Uruki #uruhaxruki #I have not and you gave me ammunition to delve into the detective au I have been sitting and brainstorming for these two #this was so much fun to write #thank you for letting me write this nhswjodsjmi #dogmaticdeux #also early valentine drabble/oneshot

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wrldtravler · 6 years

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The Mystery of Oliver Queen & Felicity Smoak (2/5)

Wow. Woooooow. The response for the first part of this leaves me stunned. I’m beyond thrilled that you guys like this concept. So, without further ado, here’s the next installment of the mystery ;)

If you missed the first part, here’s the link to the previous post:

Chapter 1

The Mystery of Oliver Queen & Felicity Smoak

Summary: It started with a series of photographs at the Met Gala. From then on, everyone became obsessed with the potential love story surrounding award-winning actor Oliver Queen and the brilliant CEO Felicity Smoak. Follow along as the media, and the world, try to put together just exactly what is going on between the secretive pair.

Chapter 2: Spotted in Starling

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Taking a break from the promotional tour for his critically acclaimed movie, set to debut later this fall, Oliver Queen is seen arriving in Starling City Friday morning. Sources say Mr. Queen has no scheduled press or filming obligations in the city, so one might wonder what his reasons for a visit are. He has been romantically linked to the famous CEO of Smoak Technologies, Felicity Smoak, in recent months and it is no secret that Smoak Technologies is headquartered in Starling City. Could it be that Oliver Queen is pausing to spend some time with his Ms. Smoak before jetting off once again for the remainder of his press docket?

October 2018

A knock at her propped glass door lifted Felicity's gaze from her phone, though the smile she wore still lingered.

"Ms. Smoak," Her young assistant said, leaning through the doorway. "Kara Danvers, your three o'clock, is here."

Setting her phone down, Felicity rose from her seat and smoothed out her grey twill dress. "Thank you, Anna, send her in please."

Moments later, a stylish but nervous blonde tentatively stepped through her door. With a relaxed smile, Felicity met her halfway and with an extended hand. "Kara, pleasure to meet you. My PR head, Iris West, speaks very highly of you and your work for CatCo."

Kara simply starred at Felicity for a beat, mouth slightly parted and hand clutching the straps of her shoulder bag tightly. "Oh wow. You're like everything I hoped you would be." Kara finally breathed as she blindly reached out to shake Felicity's hanging hand. "Oh my gosh. That's so rude of me. I'm Kara, but wait, you already knew that. It's really such an honor to meet with you."

Felicity laughed. "This is so weird. I feel like I'm looking into a mirror. I'm usually the one babbling." She joked with a smile, hoping it put Kara a little more at ease. "How about we get this going?" Felicity offered, motioning them over to the pair of perpendicular couches.

It took them a moment to get settled as Kara arranged her recording device and flipped open her note pad. Pushing her thick rimmed glasses up the bridge of her nose, Kara was all business as she lifted her gaze to Felicity and hit record on her phone. "Embarrassing introduction aside, I want to thank you so much for agreeing to the interview. I know how important every appearance is to you."

"Of course. When you're in the position I am, unfortunately the image I portray matters even more. I only want the truth out there, and CatCo is one of the best at translating the truth."

"That's an excellent place to start. Can you tell me how you've navigated your rise to the top in an industry that's so male dominant?"

"It hasn't been easy. And it still isn't, unfortunately. But, I'd like to think that the work my team an I have produced over the years speaks far louder than my gender or any other superficial quality it might be labeled with. I've faced criticism and doubt all along the way, but this is my dream and I fought for it."

The whole time, Kara nodded along, clearly enthralled. So, it took her a moment to speak up again once Felicity finished her answer. "Tell me more about that. Not many of us are familiar with your life before Smoak Technologies, but you were quite successful even then."

"I always joke that I peaked when I was young." She laughed. "On paper, my successes seems like a fairy tale: the daughter of single Vegas cock-tail waitress becoming three-time Nevada State Mathletics Champion, starting MIT at sixteen on full academic scholarship, and graduating at nineteen with two Master's degrees. But, it was very lonely. It was me and my mom against the world while I was simultaneously rebelling against my mom like any other teenager. I've always loved what I do, and that ultimately made the difference back then. Discovering new things, solving problems, that's what has always driven me to keep going."

"Well, you must have had time for fun, though? Any fun memories from your childhood?"

"That depends on the answer you're looking for, I guess." Felicity joked. "I was still a bit of a trouble-maker, just in my own way. Technically, I'm banned from the Bellagio and Ceasar's Palace for card-counting. Frequently, because I loved to tinker with things and find out how they worked, my mom would come home from late nights at the casino and find our appliances completely disassembled." She recalled, her gaze far away and a ghost of a smile playing over her lips at the memories of a very different time.

"That's really cute, actually." Kara observed with a soft laugh. "And, would you say it's all been worth it? Especially off the massive success of the implant with two more fully-functional patients."

Lifting her gaze to Kara, Felicity pondered the question for a moment. "Yes." She finally claimed with a soft smile. "It was hard. There was a lot of doubt. There were days I wanted to give up. Times when I was told I would never make anything of myself. A lot of denied proposals. But, it was worth it. And not because of the money or fame. I have the chance to make the world better, quality of life better, give little girls with big dreams the belief they need to go out there and take hold of their futures. That's priceless and it's those thoughts that keep me going when there are bad days."

Kara smiled wistfully, nodding in appreciation. "That's really amazing." She shared quietly. Peering down at her notepad, she hesitated before lifting her gaze back up to Felicity. "Have you ever thought about sharing this success with someone? Not to say that having a companion is necessary, but I-"

"Trust me, I know what you mean." Felicity interrupted with an understanding smile. "I may have a certified genius level IQ, but I am human too. It's not wrong to want your own personal cheerleader, someone that helps you through those tough days when your own determination isn't enough." She shared with a wistful smile.

Nodding, Kara leaned forward a little. "And, is there someone special in your life?"

Biting her lip, Felicity shook her head knowingly with a laugh. "Are you asking about someone in particular?"

Pushing her glasses up on her face, Kara shrugged with a nervous laugh. "Guilty. This is more my own personal curiosity. This one can be off-the-record..."

Felicity shook her head with a smile. "No, no need for that. On-the-record is fine."

Kara perked up a little, brushing her hair back. "So, he was spotted here last Friday. Is he your someone special?"

"I'm honestly flattered. Not only is he attractive, talented, and legitimately famous, but he's very kind and intensely loyal. At least, that's what I know from the few times we've met." She said with a laugh. "His appearance here, though, is merely a coincidence. The public seems to forget that he's is originally from Starling. My company was actually born from a sub-division of Queen Consolidated. So, if he's in the city, it's likely that he has family business. Or maybe he was just feeling nostalgic." She offered with a shrug.

Slumping a little, Kara's lips twisted into a small pout. "So, no one special at the moment?"

Glancing away, Felicity curled her lips together before looking back with a shake of her head. "Not really."

Huffing out a frustrated sigh, Kara nodded solemnly as she peered contemplatively at her notes again. "One final question, since the bio-stimulant chip has been proven successful in two more patients already, what are the next steps for Smoak Tech?"

Straightening in her seat, a brighter smile curled her lips. "Of course, the obvious answer is that we're going to continue to push the implant. It's still far from being where we want it in terms of marketability. But, we've actually been looking into expanding into the renewables sector too. We have ideas for both solar and wind energy, just on different fronts. These ideas are very new, but at the same time they're essentially adaptions of our current technology, so we're hoping to have an announcement of a full plan within the next year."

"Wow, that's a very different direction, but just as admirable as any other project Smoak Tech has already taken on. I fully believe you'll do great things." Kara complimented before leaning over to shut off the phone on the glass coffee table next to them. "Thank you so much, Felicity. This was incredible. You really are amazing." Kara said, holding out her hand.

Grasping it, Felicity gave her a big smile. "No, thank you. The interview wouldn't have been good if you didn't ask the right questions. You are really great at what you do." She complimented as they stood from the couches.

"Even though I asked about you and Oliver Queen?" Kara cringed.

Felicity shook her head with a soft laugh. "Don't worry, we're all human so I won't hold your curiosity against you. Just, don't always trust what those other hokey tabloids say." Felicity offered with a smile as they reached her door.

"Excellent advice." Kara confirmed with a soft laugh, pushing her glasses up on her nose. "I'll get working on this piece as soon as I return to National City. And, you already have your time booked for the photoshoot, so we should be able to get this out as scheduled for the November issue. We'll send you the article to preview before-hand, of course."

"I can't wait to see it. Thank you again, Kara."

Tags: @tdgal1 @miriam1779 @almondblossomme @hope-for-olicity @muslimsmoak @wherethereissmoak @memcjo @1106angel @stephswims @samwinter09 @trueromantic1 @blondeeoneexox @sadfangirl05 @artreider @olicityandklaroline @ olicityotp-always

#Famous!Olicity AU #olicity fanfiction #arrow fanfiction

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