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kaysungshine · 9 months ago

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Redamancy ['red-a-man-sE] noun ;a love returned in full

Part II out now!

{ Pairing } - idol!bangchan x staff!afab.reader (with a hint of bestfriend!jisung?)

{ Genre } - NSFW, the trifecta (s/a/f), frenimies to friends to lovers? idk but we'll get there in the end

{ Synopsis } - Han Jisung is your new bestie & technical colleague, of course you befriended the rest of his members. Group nights became a tradition, & tonight involves liquor and drinking games for the first time. Truth or drink?

{ WC } - 6.7k

{ Warnings & tags } - 18+ MDNI, NSFW, smut, angst, fluff, drinking, breath play (choking), swearing, dry humping, use of 'babygirl', mention of wet dream, talk of edging, talk of domming, talk of choking, talk of exhibitionism, all of ot8 is suggestive af when they drink, reader and jisung are PLATONIC I promise they're just touchy, they're all giggly drunks so overuse of laughing chuckling and giggling, chan is kinda dumb in this he just... is in denial land but we'll find out more about that later, unrealistic work scenarios, unrealistic dorm setup? idk lol

{ Disclaimer } - This work is in no way associated with the actual skz, and is a fictional piece. I DO NOT own Stray Kids, this fic is just influenced by them!

{ A/N } - Okay I know I took forever to post & this intro is hella long & I'm sorry! Once again, I will say this is my first skz fic. I come from the world of AO3 & dramione. I am out of my comfort zone lol. First time posting stories on tumblr too! So if I missed anything please let me know <3 there will be a part 2, I've already started writing it! The plot is weak af, but gimme a few more stories and I'll find my groove. Promise! Unbeta'd, be gentle with me ♡

It was supposed to be a relatively chill Saturday night, so you were excited. You just got off work, and had arrived at Jisung's. He swung the door open smiling and pulled you inside, into an immediate hug. Everyone said their greetings, and then Jisung went immediately to whining.

"Finally, what kept you so late?"

You took your shoes, mask, sunglasses, and hat off, letting your curls fall down your back. Then you unzipped your sweatshirt, shrugging it off your shoulders and exposing your fitted white tee. You gave your jacket and bag to Ji so he could put them away. You always arrived in 'disguise', in baggy clothing so that no one suspected anything. Though you thought it was ridiculous. It doesn't matter how baggy the sweat pants or hoodie is, there's no hiding the curve of your ass.

You were a content editor at JYPE, and had become really good friends with Han Jisung. Friendships between idols and staff certainly aren't forbidden, in fact they're encouraged to an extent... as long as no lines are crossed. But it's pretty much an ignored rule. Anyways, you were a small 'behind-the-scenes' employee, not a manager or assistant or makeup artist. Not anyone directly involved with any idols. No one off the street knew who you were. Still, over the last almost year or so, you and him became besties. You frequently shared meals together at work, had sleepovers, you even went camping. You were basically glued to each other. It could easily be taken the wrong way by the media and fans. Hell, it gets taken the wrong way by co-workers, other idols, and even his group members. Although they've mostly accepted that's not the case. It's a given with the way you two act though.

Your relationship is definitely platonic, confirming pretty early on that neither of you felt anything more than friendly love for each other. But you both love teasing the other suggestively. You suppose that's partly why you two got so close so quickly. Your personalities are so similar, it's like you share the same singular brain cell sometimes.

"Editing, per usual." You finally reply with a sigh, "We had to cut A LOT out of nexz's new video. They're so high energy, they slip up a lot, especially with the swearing, but nothing we can't handle."

"Gotta love kids." Chan snorts while sipping a beer.

You smile awkwardly in response and look around the room. Everyone is here, all with their preferred beverages, and chatting away or scrolling.

Ji comes back with a drink for you, he knows you're partial to tequila and always keeps it on deck. Normally, you spend every weekend you can together, which sometimes is not as often as either of you would like. Sometimes you'd both head back to your place, and just have all nighters, binge watching anime and gorging yourselves on junk food. More recently, like tonight, you get invited over to hang with him and the rest of the boys.

It usually results in a few drinks and a movie, or talk about work. Sometimes you just play music and talk and vibe, or try to cook food together when you get the munchies... Which more than likely results in Minho taking over because he just can't help himself. However the nights play out, they're always fun, and you're gradually getting closer to the rest of the members too. Although no one can compare to the bond you have with your Jiji.

"I don't wanna watch a movie tonight, my eyes hurt too much." He starts complaining.

"Poor baby." You tease and run your fingers through his hair, laughing.

"When are you two just going to come out with the fact that you're in love?" Seungmin asks.

You roll your eyes, "When dwaekki's fly."

"I can easily make that happen." Changbin laughs.

"We could play a game?" Felix suggests, already looking flushed from the alcohol.

Jeongin gets excited, "Let's do a drinking game! It's been a while."

"I don't believe I've ever played a drinking game with y'all."

Hyunjin hums, "Mm, you haven't. Mostly because we get crazy, we've never brought up the idea."

This piqued your interest, "More crazy than I've already seen? I don't think that's possible."

Minho chimes in this time, "You forget we're a group of men sometimes, I swear. Mix alcohol and suggestive games, it definitely gets 'crazier' than you've seen, inappropriately crazy."

You level him with a smirk, "I'm down."

"That's my y/n!" Ji says, while pulling you to sit in his lap, "Fearless."

You giggle and lean into him while Minho just narrows his eyes at you and purses his lips. Something tells you he's up to something, but you're ready for any challenge.

"Fine. Then we'll play something easy, truth or drink. If someone refuses to answer, they drink. Whoever finishes their drink first loses." Minho says.

"What does the loser have to do?" You ask.

"Pay for everyone's lunch every day for a month!" Changbin says.

"Deal." You say.

You're an open book, Ji knows this. There's no question you won't answer.

Everyone is up now, getting new drinks & refills before the game starts. You can't help but notice that Chan didn't get up, he looks a little nervous for some reason. He was always the most worried about you being around so much. In the beginning it definitely came across like he didn't like you. Now you know that's not the case... you think. He tolerates you now to say the least. You couldn't blame him too much, he was just protective of his boys. You actually found it incredibly sweet, or maybe it's just that stupid soft spot you have for him.

He always tried to keep you at arms length from the group. Not wanting anyone to get too close to you. Until Jisung put him in his place, as best he could anyways.

You were in Ji's lap, watching Spirited Away. He was drawing imaginary lines and shapes on your back, while you rested your head on his shoulder, facing the tv. His head was resting on top of yours as well, and a blanket covered you both.

Chan walked in seeing this, and nearly had a stroke. He said we were being inappropriate. And specifically made it a point to tell you to be more professional as a member of the staff. Short version: know your fucking place, you're overstepping.

You scoffed at him, prepared to confront him about his growing disdain towards you. Let him know he's the one being inappropriate, downright childish. But Ji nudged you onto the couch and got to him first.

It was kind of cute watching him standing there, ears becoming red and getting in Chan's face. Cute in the way that it was like a maltese puppy trying to stand up to a doberman. Then he proceeded to yell at him about how he was way out of line. Saying he was being flat out disrespectful and that he was done with the ridiculous way he has been acting about you. The last thing he said was that he didn't know what got into him, and that he'd never seen this side of Chan before.

Chan was silent, looking intensely into Jisungs eyes. But he never backed down, so Chan poked his tongue to his cheek, then retreated to his room for the whole night. You had to scoop Ji off the floor right afterwards. He had let his knees buckle, and fell to the floor once Chan was gone. Citing that he wasn't sure he was going to live through the night to see the morning sun. Typical dramatic fashion for your best friend. But you soothed him, fluffing up his ego about 'defending your honor'. His words, not yours.

As that night went on though, the tiniest bit of worry coursed through you. Chan hadn't come back out. Not even when the other members came home, trying to knock on his door to greet him. Or when the food was ready to be served, you had even given knocking a try. Only after Hyunjin begged you to, because 'He already doesn't take care of himself. He needs to eat.' No, you didn't see him again that night until you had already walked out the front door. He slipped out behind you shortly after, grabbing you by the wrist and stopping you.

You thought he was going to continue the argument for a moment, but no, he was apologizing. Not much more was said afterwards, but his apology was genuine and heartfelt, so you accepted it. You two ended up hugging it out, and thank goodness no one saw that, because it was incredibly cringeworthy. He had no more major issues after that. But he was still unexplainably awkward around you, but it's not like you were any better. You two simply didn't know how to interact with each other for longer than 30 seconds. And that was pushing it. You suspected that might not ever go away. He likes to keep his walls high and strong, and you're stubborn at times.

But of course, despite that stubbornness. You developed some sort of feelings towards him. Feelings you refused to acknowledge, well tried to refuse. You would push those feelings down deep within your heart, put them in a little box, and tape it shut trying to forget it's there. There was no need to pine over the man, he had stay to do that for him, and who knows who else in his life. Somehow that box always ended up ripped open again.

There was never a reason to act on these feelings. Not to mention, you think you'd be breaking SO MANY rules. Putting your job, his job, hell everyone's job at risk. Or worse, making a fool of yourself when he would downright reject you.

You keep watching him, now he's shaking his leg up and down, seeming agitated. Maybe he just doesn't want everyone getting into a vulnerable state of mind while playing? Maybe he's worried somebody will say or do something wrong? That someone will cross a line, as he loves to say?

Trying to ease his negative feelings, and extend yet another olive branch. You toss a throw pillow at him, hitting him in the chest and pulling him out of his thoughts.

He looks at you, eyebrows wrinkled in confusion, and you just chuckle nervously at him saying, "Don't worry, it's like Vegas. What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas."

"God how fuckin' corny was that?" Ji teases you, poking your side making you giggle more.

To your relief, Chan is laughing with you, and shaking his head, "I just want them to behave."

"Oh relax, we're all grown. We're all friends. So we'll get to know each other more intimately, big whoop." You shrug.

"Mmm..." He replied, before raising his voice so everyone could hear him, "Whatever is spoken about tonight, doesn't leave this room."

"I swear you're the one with anxiety sometimes, not me." Ji mumbles.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah... dad." Hyunjin says as he sits next to you and Ji.

"As if that announcement even had to be made, I swear, and you wonder why we call you old." Seungmin comments.

Once everyone is settled in with their drinks, Minho directs Chan to start the game.

"Jisung, when was the last time you cried?"

He laughed, "You're trying to embarrass me because you know it was this morning, but I am confident and secure in the fact that I am a sensitive man."

He said the last bit with his hand over his heart, and his eyes closed, effectively making everyone chuckle.

"My poor baby, why were you crying?" You question teasingly.

"Please don't bring it up, he'll start blubbering all over again. Stupid, sad, dog rescue videos." Seungmin mumbles.

"Minho!" Ji shouts, pointing at him dramatically, "This question is for you. If you had to kiss someone in this room on the cheek, who would it be?"

"Hyunjin." He said bluntly, making you and everyone else laugh while Hyune just rolled his eyes.

"Would you kiss me back?" He asked him, eyes full of hope and bottom lip jutted out and pouting, trying to act cute. And succeeding, honestly.

Hyunjin acted like he was pondering the question, but ultimately was the first to take a sip from his glass, "I decline to answer."

He looked to you next, a suggestive smirk on his face, making you the next victim, "Y/niiieee..."

"Oi, be respectful." Chan scolds immediately, not liking the look at all.

"All I was going to do was repeat the question!" He said defensively, "Y/n, if you had to choose, who would you kiss on the cheek?"

You tried hard to keep your eyes from trailing over to Chan, a tingly feeling spreading across your skin at the mere thought of innocently kissing his cheek. Instead you chose the easy answer, because it wasn't a lie. You'd also kiss your best friend on the cheek any time.

"My Jiji of course," And you took his face in one hand, squeezing his cheeks between your middle finger and thumb, and plant a loud smooch on each of them, "he probably only asked because he wanted one anyways."

He just chuckles, letting you baby him and Seungmin fake gags.

"Minnieee..." You pause trying to come up with a question, "when you dye your hair next, what color would you want?"

"Green, my entire head green."

"That would look interesting." You laugh.

You all go 'round in circles for a few rounds, completely forgetting about the rules of the game. Having now finished your glasses from casually sipping throughout the game, most of you have switched to occasional shots. You're starting to feel warm and tipsy. Of course the more you all drank, the more the questions started to get more... amorous. Which is exactly how you all assumed this game would go. No wonder Chan was so anxious.

However looking over to him now, he's definitely having a good time. Like every other person, he loosens up while drinking, but tonight he seems even more so.

"Y/n," Chan starts with a sly look making your skin buzz again. Among all of you, he is 100% the most inebriated right now, "when was your first kiss?"

"Yah! He tells us to be respectful, but look how he is after a few drinks!" Changbin yells laughing.

Chan loses it, "You're right Binnie, you don't have to answer or drink." He says in between fits of squeaky laughter.

You think you could listen to him laugh all day.

You shake your head and snort, "I've answered worse questions playing this game before. I was 13 when I had my first kiss."

Hyunjin nearly spits his drink out, because again, no one is drinking just as punishment anymore, "13?!"

"Well, yeah, it's a pretty normal age in America... I think..." you started to blush, "why, how old were you?" you ask Hyunjin.

He hesitates, but eventually he spoke, "I was 18."

The rest chime in saying they were also 18 or 19. With the exception of Felix who said he was 16.

Without even thinking you start to say, "Aaah, see I was 18 when I-" and you're abruptly stopped with Ji's hand slapping over your mouth.

Your eyes go wide, caught off guard, but understanding as you almost blurted out unnecessary information. Nothing that Ji hadn't known obviously, it's just that everyone else doesn't really know you on that level.

"Jagi, you only had to answer the one question, adding extra info, that's not how you play the gaaaaame." He says in a sing-song voice, "Hyunjin it's your turn to ask someone."

"No no no no! What was she going to say?" Chan chuckles.

When you looked at him, he winked at you, and you had to stop yourself from going limp in Ji's arms. He knew damn well what you were going to say. Why is he teasing, no torturing you like this?

You peel Ji's hand off your mouth to respond "It's not your turn, you'll have to wait to ask me that."

The group starts laughing and shouting, teasing Chan who is ignoring it all, just staring at you with curious eyes and his tongue in his cheek. Does he know how hot he looks doing that?

"Okay, so then I'll ask you. What were you going to say?" Hyunjin asks calmly, trying to fight the smile off his face.

You pour yet another shot, and knock it back thinking, what the hell, "I was going to say I was 18 when I first hooked up with a man."

Some members looked surprised, the game taking an obvious turn. However Hyunjin, Felix, and Chan started laughing again.

"I knew that's what you were going to say." Felix slurred.

"Yeah I was definitely teasing you on that, because I knew." Chan followed.

"Mmm, well judging from the shocked faces of everyone else, you two seem to be the only psychics." You try to joke, wanting the attention off of you suddenly.

"No, don't get us wrong, not all of us are as innocent as you think." Seungmin says defensively.

"Oh really now?" You respond, one brow quirking up.

Seungmin just turned red, and sat back in his seat. To which Chan started laughing, yet again. He's a giggly drunk, and you love it.

"Don't tease my puppy, babe." Ji slurred, trying to reach his arm to console Seungmin, but ultimately failing.

"I mean I was 18 too, with the same girl I first kissed." Hyunjin shrugged.

"But what do you mean 'to a man'?" Jeongin asked with a shit eating grin on his face.

You promptly turned into a tomato, and started choking on air.

"You're not that slow pabo, obviously it means she's been with women too." Ji says, rather loudly and speaking freely, all while patting your back.

You're quiet. It's not like it's a secret, you've never hidden your sexuality. But it never came up in conversation with anyone here, except Jisung.

Wanting to ease the tone, Felix speaks up, "Well I was 18 when I first hooked up with a dude."

"I was 21, but everyone already knows that story." Ji slurred.

The whole conversation triggers another group laughing fit. Except for Chan, who is looking at you with those dark eyes again. And... is he blushing? Or is that the alcohol? He eventually snaps out of whatever daze he was in, and slowly smiles at you reassuringly.

You mentally kick yourself for getting your hopes up, of course he couldn't ever think of you like that. You're imagining things.

"But then, how old were you when you first hooked up with a girl?" Jeongin asked again, genuinely curious.

"A lot younger than 18..." You trailed off laughing, "I'll just say in high school."

"The air is different outside of Korea." Changbin says suddenly, sounding thoughtful.

Hyunjin nearly collapsed laughing, slapping Minho on the knee repeatedly, despite the glare he was shooting him.

"Well I just answered a bunch of questions in a row so that means I get to ask two people a question. And the second person I ask gets the next turn." You say, making up new rules.

"So... Chan." He looks at you with his eyebrows raised and you just smirk, knowing you're trying to get back at him, "How old were YOU when you lost your virginity?"

He gulps and looks around at the group before answering, "I... was 18."

"Chan-hyung, you never answered us when we would ask you! Why answer her?" Jisung whines.

"I honestly don't know, maybe it's the liquor. None of you ever asked me drunk." He starts giggling.

"Okay so question 2... Binnie!" He gulps and looks at you with wide eyes, "Are you more of a boob guy?" You say grabbing your own, not even really thinking about it, "Or an ass guy?"

Changbin started laughing and answered, "Definitely ass, but I appreciate boobs too, equality."

"I am just learning so much about my fellow members lately." Seungmin whispers.

"Is that a bad thing?" You giggle.

"Not at all, it feels strangely comforting, letting loose like this." He replies and smiles softly at me, "It's been a while."

"It's freeing!" Jeongin yells abruptly, throwing his hands in the air.

"Aye, my question is for you then Min. Have you ever had a wet dream?" Changbin asks.

"... what guy hasn't? Don't all guys get them?" He asks looking around.

Then you chime in again frankly, "Girls can get them too you know."

Why does it feel like you've opened pandora's box on your sex life, in every single aspect?

Ji starts laughing, nodding his head vigorously and you know where this is about to go.

"Really now?" Felix says, mimicking your exact tone from earlier, "What was it about?"

"Mmmm... it's not your turn to ask," Then you turn to Seungmin, "And if you ask me, I will absolutely drink and not answer. No way I'm explaining a sex dream right now."

Seungmin just rolls his eyes and huffs out a laugh.

"But I wanna knooooooow," Jisung whines, "You looked so cute having one last weekend, you never told me what it was about."

Everyone was watching you two closely now, waiting to hear how he knew what you looked like in that situation.

You turned around and smacked his arm, "We weren't going to mention that ever again! Remember?!" You attempt to be angry, but you can't help it and end up smiling.

"Okay, well now I'm curious since you two are bringing this up." Minho says with a glint in his eye.

"Y/n may or may not have had one when I slept over, and I woke up to her moaning and hump--"

This time it was your turn to slap a hand over his mouth, "Jiji, Sungie, my love, my sweet sweet SWEET best friend. I don't want to kill you, but I will." You say in a dulcet tone.

He raised his hands, eyes wide and nodded his head. You couldn't help but laugh, apparently you're a giggly drunk too.

Out of the corner of your eye, you swore you saw Chan adjusting himself in his pants. But then you reminded yourself that it was just wishful thinking and an alcohol induced hallucination. Horny hallucination. God you needed to get over him and under someone else. This unrequited shit wasn't for you.

"I'm so never going to drop this you know, I wanna know what the hell happened." Minho smirked at you, to which you flipped him off jokingly.

It's Seungmin's turn next, and he's just staring at Jeongin with a blank face, "Have you ever had a one night stand?"

He pauses for a moment and then finally answers, "No, I haven't."

He looked at you now, asking his question, "You know what I have to ask now, right?"

"Go ahead." You challenge, fully prepared to choke down another shot and not answer his question, and he smiles.

"What's one of your kinks?"

You were unprepared for that question. And how could you know he would ask that, these men like to fuck around with your head.

"Relax, I just wanted to see your reaction." He says before chuckling.

You glared at him for a moment, halfheartedly. They think they can just retract questions when they get scared that they went too far. Screw that, you're answering.

"I guess the most simple one I have is edging." You shrug.

"The most simple one?!" Hyunjin asked.

"What are you a masochist? Edging is the worst, feels like torture to me." Ji says.

"But the build up is so delicious, and the end result is so worth it. It's so intense." Felix chimes in, "Choking too, that can be intense."

"Hm, breath play might actually be my favorite." You admit.

"Damn y/n." Ji says, eyeing you with a smile, "You're full of surprises, even to this day."

You shrug again, "Everyone has different kinks... What's one of yours?" You ask him.

He ponders for a moment, "I like being dommed sometimes."

"Big surprise." Minho says and you all laugh.

"Good one though," You nod, "That's one of mine too."

"I think I'm an exhibitionist, to an extent of course." Hyunjin says next.

"That's also not a surprise." Minho replies.

You can't help but let your eyes wander over to Chan again, while everyone else is sharing different things they're into in bed. The liquor has everyone speaking loosely. But Chan doesn't seem to care about it anymore.

You find him staring right back at you, that same look in his eyes from earlier, and you feel heat spread in your stomach, and wetness starts to pool in your panties. Maybe you weren't imagining things.

But you don't notice that Ji's observing both of you in his drunken haze. Not too faded to ignore you and Chan eye-fucking each other.

Your heart starts racing the longer you hold eye contact, and you start shifting uncomfortably on his lap, before looking away and deciding to get up.

"Alright... I need some bread to soak up this alcohol, and then I need to get home because it's already 2 in the morning." You say with a shaky breath.

"Yeah, I'm wasted right now," Jeongin says and stands, "Bed's a good idea. Goodnight everyone." And he leaves to his room.

Ji grabs your wrist, preventing you from moving, "You're not going anywhere. We're all drunk, you can't drive and no one can bring you back home."

"Fiiiiiiine," You say, "but I still want bread."

"You and your bread fixation whenever you drink." Minho mumbles, heading to the kitchen anyways to grab you some.

When he comes back he hands it to you and you start munching away happily, doing a little dance.

Meanwhile, Felix is trying to tug Chan's arms to make him stand up, but he's fighting him on it and whining. Clearly he exceeded his limit tonight drinking. He probably won't even remember the looks he was giving you, you think.

"I don't wanna go to bed." Chan whines.

Felix finally succeeds in pulling him up, "C'mon mate, you definitely need to sleep this off. You'll be miserable tomorrow. Let's get you some water too, hmm?"

Chan reluctantly holds his arm, and follows him down the hall, stumbling over his own two feet along the way. You can't help but laugh at the sight.

More of the boys say goodnight and head off to their rooms, but Ji and Minho stay with you in the living room, chatting a little longer before bed.

Ji starts going through his bags, determined that you left some pajamas here from when you slept over previously, and he kept them in a bag to give back to you. He pulls out the nightie, that you honestly forgot you brought here. But you see why you didn't ever wear it at the time. It's dark green, spaghetti straps and has lace along the bust line. It also has slits on each side of your thigh, and only covers you to the middle of your thighs. Your go to sleepware was always nighties or large tees, they're comfortable and sometimes you get hot at night. Mix in the fact that you were drinking tonight? You're already feeling overheated. But wearing this?

"Jiiiiiii, don't you have any t-shirts I can wear?" You whine.

He's already under the covers, fighting sleep, "Sorry babe... haven't done laundry... Nothing clean..."

You whine again before taking it and heading across the hall into one of the bathrooms. It was this or sleep in your sweats, and that idea sounded entirely too suffocating to you.

You slip the nightie on and brush your teeth with your designated toothbrush you had there. Jisungs idea, after you had too much tequila one night and he diligently held your hair back as you got sick.

You sigh as you're leaving, and make your way towards Ji's room. Before you reach the door though, Chan walks out of his room. He's in a black tank top, and red boxer briefs... your eyes immediately trail down and go wide. His outline clear as day. But you change your view quickly, hopefully before he notices.

It doesn't help though, now all you're doing is eyeing his arms, the muscles cut throughout them. The veins that trail all the way down to his hands. God, his hands... What wouldn't you let those hands do to you...

He scratches the back of his head, and the movement snaps you out of your gaze. You find him staring back at you for a second before answering, "Sorry, I'll just..."

You start to shake your head, "No, no. No reason to apologize." You chuckle and start shifting on your feet. You feel the skirt of your nightie swaying with you. It opened the slit wider, and Chan immediately looked down at your exposed thigh. He inhaled quietly, sucking in air through his nose.

Any other day, you'd be scrambling to cover yourself. Feeling insecure and too bare. You don't know if it was the liquor in you, but tonight? Being on display? It turned you on.

You clenched your thighs together, almost involuntarily, and Chan didn't miss that.

Time seemed to be moving too slow. He stepped towards you, nearly closing the gap between you. He's only inches away, and looking down on you. His eyes have that dark, smoldery look again. He raised his hand and brushed the curls off your face and behind your ear. When he rests his palm against your cheek, your eyes flutter shut and you lean into his touch. It's so warm, and comforting. As if it was always meant for you.

When you open your eyes, you can clearly see the lust in his is only growing. He's not holding it back anymore, biting his lip as he stares at you. You almost whimper in anticipation.

"This is your opportunity to walk away if you're not okay with me kissing you." He says lowly.

You closed your eyes, and his lips met yours. The first few seconds were sweet and soft. Almost too innocent for the heat of the moment, but then he deepened it. He was pulling you by the waist into him, running his hands down and resting them on your ass. You could easily feel how hard he was for you, even through the thin fabrics. This time you let the whimper out, and he swiped his tongue along your bottom lip before sucking it into his mouth. When you tried to do the same, he didn't give you the chance. Instead he slipped his tongue in. It was like he was lost in desire, and greedy for more. You couldn't help it when your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer.

He groaned and started backing you into the wall, his lips never leaving yours. He grabbed your thighs in each hand, and hoisted you up, slotting himself between them. Your legs naturally wrapped around him, and he started rocking his length against you. His pace was achingly slow, but still delicious.

You moaned and slipped a hand up to the nape of his neck, grabbing a fistful of hair. He breaks the kiss and throws his head back with his eyes closed. He half hisses, half groans, and you can't help but rock your hips against him harder, hoping to hear more. He grips your thigh tighter, and leans down to press a quick kiss to your neck, before licking and sucking on it. He's meeting each roll of your hips with rough thrusts. And even clothed, you feel how perfectly he's rubbing your clit.

Your head is so clouded with need. Need to be touched. Need to touch him. Need to feel him inside of you. You don't even think twice when he glides his hand up your stomach, and over your breasts. He gives one a light squeeze before moving up to wrap his fingers around your neck, and your brain loses all sense for a moment.

He's just resting his hand there, but you wish he'd do more. You're not sure if this man knows just how pliant you are for him right now.

Then he brings his lips to your ear and whispers, "Can I touch you?"

His warm breath gives you chills, and you nod your head as best as you can. But that doesn't suffice him, he stops his movements against you and his grip around your throat tightens. You think you could probably get off on it if he tightens his fingers just a bit more, but he doesn't, instead he says, "I'm going to need words, babygirl."

Your hips buck into him, and you breathe out a quiet "Yes. Please..."

With that, he yanks your face closer to his by your neck. He's squeezing ever so slightly tighter around your throat. He bites your lip and you groan. But he's quick to silence you with his tongue.

Letting go, he trailed his hand back down your body and to your core. Slowly he started to rub you through the thin lace. You were so sensitive, that when he found your clit and pressed a circle into it. You couldn't help but breathe out his name. He pushed your panties to the side, and when he felt you for the first time you felt him smile against your lips.

"Babygirl... fuck, you're so wet for me."

And as he whispered that, he slipped a finger in you. He set a steady pace, dragging against your walls with a curl. Each pump hitting your sweet spot, and the heel of his hand creating delightful friction against your swollen bud. His breathing was heavy in your ear, breaking through all your helpless whimpering. When he added a second finger, you couldn't hold back anymore.

"Chan..." You moaned louder this time, while simultaneously letting your head drop against the wall with a thud.

He pulled his lips off of you, eyes wide when he met yours. He started blinking as if he was coming back to reality. When he looked into your eyes again, he looked startled.

"What's wrong?" You pant, feeling hot and dizzy, wishing he would keep moving his hands.

Instead, he quickly slips his fingers out of you, and sets your feet on the floor. Then he backs away.

"I'm sorry, y/n... I don't know what came over me, that was incredibly inappropriate and out of character." Chan mumbled.

Your heart sinks, as you feel the sting of rejection. Tears threatened to well in your eyes, and you immediately felt the oncoming headache from holding them back. You shouldn't feel so emotional and upset. This was all spur of the moment. But you do, you feel devastated.

Regardless, you clear your throat, "I understand." You force an unsettling chuckle out, when a sob threatens to escape instead.

He puts on a blank face that feels so cold, and responds with "Don't forget to drink some water, stay hydrated... I'll be heading to bed now, you should too."

All you really want to say is don't leave, because you want to finish what was started. Because you've wanted this for so long. Because the box you kept away in the depths of your heart had ripped open once again. And all the languished emotions were here, front and center, aching to bear it all to him. To let him see. Confess. But that would be selfish, he's clearly uncomfortable with it all. He probably regrets it. An alcohol induced affair. In his eyes, a complete mistake.

So instead you say, "Okay."

Because that's all you can muster before the tears start to fall. You turn away, going back to facing Ji's door.

"Goodnight y/n... Sleep well." He says, and puts a tentative hand on your shoulder.

You shrug it off, and escape to Ji's bedroom. To your surprise he's sitting up in bed, and ushering you come to him with his arms open and bottom lip pouted out.

You run to him, a bit dramatically and fall a part in his arms. But you can't help it, you sealed these emotions away for too long. You were too hurt at the moment to even try pushing them back down.

Jisung is your life saver, he's comforting you, rubbing his fingers on your scalp and rocking you back and forth to try and calm you. He gives you time before you have to explain why exactly you're having a melt down.

"Chan's an idiot." He finally says.

And you lean back to look at him, confused on how quickly he's put two and two together.

"Well you weren't exactly quiet. Between your exaggerated moans and his animalistic grunting right outside my door, of course I heard it." He rolled his eyes jokingly and that earned a laugh from you.

You smacked him lightly, "I was lost in the moment... don't judge me."

"Jagi..." He says, and wipes the tears from your cheeks with his thumbs, "You've liked him for so much longer than a moment."

Your heart starts pounding faster again. How could he know that. It's the one thing you've kept from him, from everyone, hell you even denied it to yourself for as long as possible. Was it that obvious? Who else knows? You go to speak, fear written across your face.

"No. You were not obvious, in fact you're an amazing actor. I'm sure none of the other members noticed, and definitely no one else at work knew." He answers before you can even get words out.

You nod slowly, "So then, how'd you know?"

He smiled proudly, "I'm a people watcher, I see all."

You smack him again, a little harder this time.

"Alright, alright, but I really did see all the looks you'd give him when no one else was watching... I know what longing looks like, and..." he trailed off.

You knew that wasn't all, "And?"

"Aaaaand... maybe that night you had that wet dream. You were moaning his name while humping the pillow..."

"You never told me that!" You shoved your head into your hands, distraught.

"Well I didn't want to embarrass you! I honestly didn't think you looked at any of us that way until then. Like I said, a good actor. I figured you'd tell me when you were ready to."

You sighed, "I'm sorry. It's just a stupid crush, it'll pass."

"You're grown, you don't have to apologize to anyone for liking someone. But y/n," He cupped your cheek forcing you to look at him again, "this isn't just a simple crush, is it?"

With that question, you felt the tears spilling all over again. He pulled you to lay down with him, holding you tight against him and letting you cry it all out. Somewhere between his low humming, and your quiet weeping, you fell asleep.

When you blink the sleep away from your eyes the next morning, you're still entangled with Ji. He's literally wrapped around you like a koala.

You snort out a laugh and go to check the time on your phone. 7:30 am, entirely too early. You decide to try and fall back asleep, but last night's events rush back to you. Dread fills your chest, and your fight or flight kicks in. You're trying to gently escape Ji's hold, and not hyperventilate. The latter is more difficult but, since that man can sleep through anything, you were able to succeed.

You get changed back into your clothes, and leave a note for him saying that you're leaving and you'll text him when you get home. You can't bear to face Chan, let alone anyone else who might've heard you two last night. So you decide to skip out on the usual coffee and breakfast routine. You all have that tradition after a drunken night, but you know Ji will cover for you with everyone anyways.

You're rushing down the hall, wanting to grab your things and head for the door. Panic is starting to bubble over, and you're haphazardly covering yourself up to be unnoticeable. As you're slipping the mask over your face, a voice stops you.

"Morning... don't you want to stay for breakfast?"

You can't bring yourself to look at Chan, those words only setting the box of emotions in your heart on fire. You know he only means it in the way that it is an unbroken tradition. No matter how sick one of you gets, group breakfast is a must for recuperation. No one has skipped it in the months you've been doing it. We all take care of each other. But the idea makes your mouth bitter, because you wish it was just you two. Alone. Making breakfast the morning after earth shattering sex. And the fact he doesn't mean it in that way in the slightest makes tears prick back into your eyes.

Yes, you know you're being petty. You should stick it through for your friends. Take a page from Chan and act like nothing ever happened. You just can't find it inside you to care, you need to go home and lick your wounds before facing anyone here again. Call it childish, but you didn't care.

You're struggling to find words and just blurt out, "No thanks." And rush out the door, heading to the safety of your car.

You left Chan standing there. Unbeknownst to you, hurting just as much.

Special thank you to @jeonginsleftcheek who encouraged me through finishing this! I had finished it, and then accidentally deleted the entire ending. But in turn, that was a good thing I think... because now there'll be a part 2! If you'd like to be added to a taglist, let me know and I'll start one! Feedback is always cherished, but be gentle pleeeeeeeease ♡

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afloweroutofstone · 8 months ago

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There's a lot to be said about how many Native tribes, often lacking in the economic opportunities available in many non-tribal areas, have turned their economic development models towards providing services that are forbidden to provide outside of tribal land. The 1987 California v. Cabazon Band of Mission Indians ruling acknowledged the right of tribes to operate gambling facilities regardless of state regulations, and the Obama-era loosening of weed regulations made it easier for them to sell marijuana with less concern for non-tribal laws.

Although these policy developments were not something that most tribes actively sought out, they eventually realized that these policies gave tribal lands a monopoly on certain goods and services that people were unable to acquire elsewhere. Perhaps for the first time ever, government decisions had given tribal economies an advantage over the non-tribal economies surrounding them. This led many tribes to lean hard into their newfound policy-based comparative advantage, building up their local economies around non-Native tourism in a way that sits awkwardly with many Native activists' desire for economic sovereignty.

Tribes with well-managed tribal governments have been able to use this arrangement to great advantage. The Eastern Band of Cherokee Indians (who this post is really about, simply because I know a lot about them) not only uses the money generated by their casino resort to fund social services, they also distribute some of the casino's earnings as cash dividends to Cherokee residents, effectively funding a basic income for the tribe with the money lost by gamblers (who are, disproportionately, white outsiders). After centuries of being robbed by surrounding white communities, there's something of a perversely poetic justice to this (even if those losing the most money at the casino are not necessarily the same segments of the white population who gained the most from Cherokee dispossession).

But it's not all good news. This arrangement also has some concerning side effects on the political economy of Native tribes. The EBCI Cherokee tribe have long opposed federal recognition of the Lumbee, another group in North Carolina who are the largest Native tribe in the US that is unrecognized by the federal government. One of the reasons that the Cherokee have turned their backs on the Lumbee's quest for recognition is because it would threaten their monopoly on gambling in North Carolina. If the Lumbee were treated as a proper tribe, they could open up their own casino, threatening the monopoly profits of the Cherokee casino. Thus, another use of the Cherokee's casino funds has been to actively lobby against another Native tribe.

The EBCI Cherokee's economic reliance on their casino has damaged any prospect of inter-tribal Native solidarity in North Carolina. From the Cherokee's perspective, they have been placed in a situation where the desires of other tribes come at the direct expense of their own tribes' desires. The tension between these two is not a natural phenomenon, but rather the product of a policy framework which leaves little choice for tribal economic development outside of cutthroat monopoly preservation. If solidarity is to live, the casino-first model must die. The question is: what replaces it?

#North Carolina #Native American #we're doing old school Afloweroutofstone effort posting today I guess #Cherokee #Lumbee

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inverted-typo · 9 months ago

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Hi I’m back from vacation with forbidden romance and a new comic font :)

Lore dump ahead

I had this idea of them being from different houses: Damian the son of The Dark Knight and Raven being the High Daughter if the Coven of Azarath. The Coven of Azarath is a strong dark magic clan that has been shunned by several other kingdoms.

After Trigon the Terrible tried to use the Azarathian’s magic to send shockwaves of devastation across the lands, many factions have been weary of the Coven and blamed the Azarathian’s themselves for the destruction. They wouldn’t believe his own daughter was the one who defeated him.

Bruce, the acclaimed Dark Knight, was one of a few select heroes who helped save thousands of people due to his incredible leadership and connections. His house is renowned and revered, cemented in history for his heroic actions.

For years, the two have been having secretly seeing each other, meeting in secret any chance they get—which is not often. Damian had promised her that he will marry her. But of course, politics get in the way. He was about address a potential union with the Coven of Azarath to his father, willing to put his neck on the line and reveal his secret. He had a whole speech planned to explain how he sees past the unfair stain on Azarath, wanting to try and show him how the people are NOT the people of Trigon—and that they are not the hellish devils the world thinks them to be.

However, he didn’t get a chance as his father suddenly assigned him to go overseas with him for the next season. He wanted to make a trip to the neighboring kingdom, to catch up with House Kent and discuss policy with their close ally.

“Clark wishes me to meet the Princess of Amazonia, a reclusive island nation who wishes to trade,” Bruce had said simply.

(At least Damian would be in the good company of his close companion, Prince Jon.)

This scene is him basically telling Raven they’ll have to wait even longer for progress. Raven would be content if they could never truly marry, but she would wait forever knowing Damian would marry her in an instant if he could.

#my art #art #drawing #illustration #dc comics #teen titans #damirae #damian wayne #raven

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777rare · 2 months ago

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• RARE MASTERLIST •

ABOUT ME:

Hello, I'm sam! MY BIRTHDAY IS ON 16TH FEBRUARY 108 BCE.

I'll get straight to the point, I love all things occult, otherworldly, spiritual, deep, poetic and funny. I am an INFP 4w5 type.

I LOVE all things forbidden...sorry not sorry😂jk, I love forbidden knowledge. But wait..isn't that what a bad guy would say...uhh, maybe but I just want to know WHY?...When it comes to anything.

I have been through my spiritual journey for around seven years now and the reason I share my astrological studies here is because there are many people like me who are deeply interested in the art of astrology. I'm grateful for the support I receive everyday and I hope everybody enjoys my posts to the fullest!

❤️‍🔥Now to the completely incomplete masterlist 👍:

ASTROLOGY:

My study: The Ahtkuymas Method

Astrology Observations:

ASTROLOGY OBSERVATIONS PT.1

ASTROLOGY OBSERVATIONS PT.2

ASTROLOGY OBSERVATIONS PT.3

ASTROLOGY OBSERVATIONS PT.4

ASTROLOGY OBSERVATIONS PT.5

ASTROLOGY OBSERVATIONS PT.6

ASTROLOGY OBSERVATIONS PT.7

ASTROLOGY OBSERVATIONS PT.8

ASTROLOGY OBSERVATIONS PT.9

ASTROLOGY OBSERVATIONS PT.10

ASTROLOGY OBSERVATIONS PT.11

Specific House Observations:

12TH HOUSE OBSERVATIONS PT.1

12TH HOUSE OBSERVATIONS PT.2

12TH HOUSERS AND FOREIGN LANDS

12TH HOUSERS

A MARS DOMINANT WOMAN

PISCES AND/OR 12TH HOUSE STELLIUM MOOD BOARD PT.1

INSIDE THE MIND OF A 12TH HOUSER

8TH HOUSE SYNASTRY OBSERVATIONS PT.1

8TH HOUSE SYNASTRY OBSERVATIONS PT.2

How MARS 8th house synastry manifests

What goes on in the minds of a couple with 8th house synastry...

Solar Return Chart Observations:

SOLAR RETURN OBSERVATIONS PT.1

SOLAR RETURN OBSERVATIONS PT.2

SOLAR RETURN OBSERVATIONS PT.3

Synastry Chart Observations:

SYNASTRY OBSERVATIONS PT.1 (18+)

SYNASTRY OBSERVATIONS PT.2

Composite Chart Observations:

COMPOSITE OBSERVATIONS PT.1

COMPOSITE OBSERVATIONS PT.2

Astrology and our Human Body:

FACIAL FEATURES IN ASTROLOGY PT.1

FACIAL FEATURES IN ASTROLOGY PT.2

PLANETS AND THE BODY PARTS

Astrology Analysis:

FAME AFTER DEMISE..LEAVING A LEGACY PT.1

FAME AFTER DEMISE..LEAVING A LEGACY PT.2

FAME AFTER DEMISE..LEAVING A LEGACY PT.3

FAME AFTER DEMISE..LEAVING A LEGACY PT.4

Vedic Knowledge and Astrology:

VEDIC ASTROLOGY FOR BEGINNERS

SHORT VEDIC ASTROLOGY NOTES PT.1

SHORT VEDIC ASTROLOGY NOTES PT.2

SHORT VEDIC ASTROLOGY NOTES PT.3

SHORT VEDIC ASTROLOGY NOTES PT.4

SHORT VEDIC ASTROLOGY NOTES PT.5

THE STORY OF RAHU AND KETU

HOW RAHU AND KETU IMPACT THE CHART

HAPPY MAHA SHIVARATRI 2025

RAVANA IN THE RAMAYANA

SHIV TANDAV STOTRAM

HANUMAN CHALISA AND ITS SIGNIFICANCE

Others:

When a planet falls in the houses...

When you've got problems with ______ look at _____ house.

Empty houses show what is not a priority in your life.

Venus in the houses...my advice to you

Persona Charts:-

(Still in progress)

Asteroid Persona Charts:-

(Still in progress)

Asks:

SAGITTARIUS MARS CONJUNCT SAG PLUTO IN THE 12TH HOUSE

VERTEX IN 7TH HOUSE SOLAR RETURN CHART

SOLAR RETURN CHART 8TH HOUSE STELLIUM

WHAT ABOUT EMPTY HOUSES?

SIRINE SQUARE PLUTO

A COINCIDENCE REALLY..

Asteroids:

SUNSHINE ASTEROID

MESSALINA IN THE HOUSES

EROS AND YOUR SENSUAL SIDE

COMPILATION OF MANY ASTEROIDS

ALL ABOUT CHIRON

PALMISTRY:

RECEPTIVE AND PROJECTIVE ENERGY

BASICS OF PALMISTRY

SPECIAL SYMBOLS ON THE HAND

TAROT:

Court Cards:

THE SWORDS FAMILY

THE WANDS FAMILY

THE CUPS FAMILY

THE PENTACLES FAMILY

WHY ARE THERE A LOT OF COURT CARDS IN A SPREAD?

THE CONNECTION SPREAD THAT REALLY HELPS

TAROTLOGY AND MY EXPERIENCE WITH THIS

TAROT COLOUR MEANINGS

TAROT 'TABLE OF CARD MEANING'

TAROT PAC READINGS:

Their arousing thoughts about you

The Universe is calling...

What are they thinking about you?

TAROT ASKS:

Angel was the first to ask me a question here

Um, well..she asked about may without giving her details pt.1

Well, she came back with her details to get info about may pt.2

A doubt about the reading offer

Confused with this question...

My favourite ask, still so interesting tbh.

The future spouse meeting question.

An answered, unanswered question.

Free readings doubt.

what does this person bring to the table?

Am I up for tarot exchange?

Other Spiritual Knowledge:

GRABOVOI CODES

AFFIRMATION for when you feel unloved.

SIGILS AND HOW TO MAKE THEM

ASTRAL PROJECTION FOR BEGINNERS

RED BRICK DUST AND HOW TO MAKE IT

THE MOLDAVITE CRYSTAL

SUN GAZING + SUN AND MOON WATER

BASIC NUMEROLOGY

THE KARMIC NUMBERS

MY RECOMMENDED YT CHANNELS FOR THOSE YEARNING FOR KNOWLEDGE

EVERYTHING RELATED TO SUBLIMINALS

CLEANSING USING SOUND

WRITE _______ NO. FOR BEAUTY

CHEAT CODES FOR MANIFESTATION

EVERYTHING ABOUT SWITCH WORDS

HOW TO USE GRABOVOI OR MANIFESTATION CODES

BASIC GRABOVOI CODES

OUR AURA (Kinds of forms)

COLOUR ENERGY (significance of colours)

A WITCHY TIP

GRABOVOI CODES FOR HEALTH

GRABOVOI CODES FOR LOVE

AFFIRMATIONS FOR YOUR SP

All Things Buddhism:

THE SIGNIFICANCE OF THE 'Om Mane Padme Hum' MANTRA

GREEN TARA MANTRA

RED TARA MANTRA

All The Reviews:

TAROT EXCHANGE READING

ASTROLOGY 8TH HOUSE STELLIUM (SRC)

Everything Deep And Beautiful:

Why don't you understand...

The note I wrote to myself a day before I turned 18 years of age...

The deepest questions in my head that are still not answered.

Poems For The Drunk...

Those Born Drunk...like Me 😂:

STUPID POEM PT.1

STUPID POEM PT.2

STUPID POEM PT.3

STUPID POEM PT.4

SPIRITUAL MEMES:

Bitch, you better reshuffle😂🤭

Not Sugar daddy, My king of pentacles🤝

Oh, how Freddie is my Mercury retrograde😂😭

My Tarot roasted me again...deep breaths😮‍💨

For those men who love a witch

If my tarot approves, idk what happens, let's fuck❤️‍🔥

THE LEFTOUTS [LOL]:

2025 (MY RETURN FROM THE DEAD, JK)

MY SICK ERA

MY BIRTHDAY EXCHANGE READING OFFER 2025

MY TAROT READING OFFER 2022

THE TIME WHEN I NEEDED VOTES

Another 'I'm back' (how many times will I make this I wonder🥲)

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sunseed-fandump · 2 months ago

Note

What are your witch headcanons?(Thinking of making a story about young kids witches/wizards that shrink down the size of cookies)

Congratulations! You have opened Pandora's Box of shit I brainrot about! BEHOLD!!!

The Many Cookie Run Human Headcanon/Theories I Spin Around in my Brain

Based on what bits and pieces we've seen of the Witch of Light and her Coven (and some bits of concept info from the Witch's Castle Artbook). the human world seemed to be spiraling out of control. War, famine, greed, and more was leading the planet to death. The world was practically self-imploding. It seems like this specific Coven - which I call the Coven of Light - wanted to change things and make the world abundant once again via Dessert Magic.

Whether they discovered this kind of magic or it was already a thing before this is unclear.

They must have been experimenting with Life Powder, and I wouldn't be surprised if why they focused on desserts would be because Life Powder might just be easier to bake into things than use it for anything else. It seems like a very unruly substance that even Dark Enchantress has a difficult time handling.

However, even tho the Witch of Light and her Coven had good intentions that doesn't mean whatever magical breakthroughs they discovered were going to be treated with respect by OTHER Witches. The other Witches we've seen so far (like the ones at the Banquet) seem to be in the magical-baking game for entirely different reasons. What those reasons are have been left pretty vague, but I wouldn't be surprised if it had something to do with extending their lifespans or increasing their own magical abilities. After all, consuming Life Powder might have an effect on humans we aren't privy to.

Basically: WoL goes to an island/continent/whatever to do her Life Powder research and make the world a better place, winds up creating an entire sugary ecosystem and becoming a goddess WHOOPSIE!!!

Other spellcasters see this and go "oh shit that's some powerful stuff over there and also the land isn't dogshit and can sustain life" hence City of Wizards, other Witches arriving, etc.

From a conversation we see between the Shadow Witch and Sheriff Whiskerton, along with some interviews leading up to the release of Witch's Castle, it seems humanity has survived whatever near-extinction was going to claim them. However, as a result, magic is being abandoned and those who practice it (Witches and Wizards) are being persecuted.

Before arriving at the Castle, the Shadow Witch lived with her Grandmother who owned a bakery. It was massively successful! Until rumors started being spread about them practicing witchcraft. Suddenly, the whole town turned against them. (Witch's Castle Special Story - Lab in Chaos)

“…magical baking has become a forbidden craft. Attempts at the Ultimate Recipe shook up the world, you see. Now, Magic is almost forgotten. Witches and Wizards hide their true identities and seemingly, magic had all but disappeared from the world.” - Witch’s Castle Launching Showcase

Magic is a dying art in the human parts of the world, and is seemingly a shunned practice. This might have had something to do with why the Wizards abandoned their City. Maybe they were trying to escape persecution? Perhaps they were under threat of attack?

The City of Wizards seemed to be an independent city-state, and a powerful one at that, so I can imagine nations with strong bias against magic-users would probably feel threatened.

Regardless, the general human populace seems ignorant of Cookies and other living Desserts, just as cookies seem ignorant about humans. It looks like Earthbread as a whole is difficult to get to and difficult to leave. Perhaps this was put in place by the WoL to protect it from the wider world?

Or maybe what few Witches are left cast such a spell at one point in order to hide away from a world that wants them dead? After all, there's evidence of Witches still living across Earthbread, hidden away and isolated in huts and castles.

Regardless, Witches and Wizards are far and few, but what human spellcasters remain practice in secret. I can imagine them viewing Earthbread as a safe haven since such a place gives them freedom to practice their craft without having to be afraid of getting burnt at the fucking stake like in the Salem Witch Trials.

#ask #cookie run #cookie run kingdom #cookie run witch’s castle #headcanons #theory #theory crafting #rogue-crew-ask-blog

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clarkeysbedchem · 9 days ago

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whatever happens, i’m letting it | part ten

previous part | next part

will lenney x fem reader

summary: will falls for chris’ new assistant

masterlist | main masterlist

The shoot had wrapped quicker than expected, mostly because Chris decided that the video wasn’t going to end any other way, which also meant that he thought everyone was taking shit shots.

You weren’t complaining though — because it meant you were back in your flat by late afternoon, curled up on the couch with a blanket, getting stuck into your new book with Kovu and Scar purring in your side, when your phone buzzed with a message from the group chat.

flo: Emergency wine night. I have gossip.

you: this is exactly what is needed, come to mine!

liv: Be there in 20. Sab, you in?

sab: You had me at “wine”

By 8PM, the four of you were sprawled around your living room. Liv was curled up under your fluffiest blanket, glass of white wine in hand. Sabina had kicked her shoes off the second she walked in and was already halfway through the crisps. Flo was perched at the edge of the couch like she couldn’t wait to explode with whatever drama she’d come armed with.

“So,” Flo said, twirling her glass with an unnecessarily dramatic flourish, “before I hijack the entire evening, and I will, why do you stink of man?”

Three pairs of eyes turned to you.

You blinked, “I do not,” lifting your arm to sniff yourself, “Okay, I do.”

Liv grinned knowingly. “You stayed at Will’s.”

You tried to play it cool — but the second you nodded, all three of them leaned in expectantly.

Sabina’s eyes widened, “Okay, spill. What happened? Are we still in ‘casual situationship’ territory, or has it crossed into the forbidden land of Actual Feelings?”

You gave a helpless sort of smile, the kind that came from trying to keep a lid on something that was already bubbling over, “It was just… nice? Like, stupidly nice. I woke up and he was still asleep, and his arm was around me, and,” you paused, looking down at your glass shyly, “and he offered to feed the cats.”

There was a collective gasp.

“He offered?” Liv asked, with a grin, “Like, unprompted?”

“He literally said, ‘I can go feed Scar and Kovu.’ Like it was the most normal thing in the world.”

Flo squealed almost dropping her wine as she flung her arms, “That’s so domestic. That’s ‘we’re practically living together’ behaviour.”

“I know,” you said, cheeks warming. ��And then he made me coffee. Remembering exactly how I like it. Drove me to the shoot even though I said I’d get the tube. Just because he wanted to.”

Sabina let out a slow whistle, “Okay, this isn’t just casual anymore”

You laughed, half hiding your face by lifting up the hem of your hoodie to cover your cheeks, “It’s just, he’s like so unbothered by it. Like, none of this is a big deal to him. Like he’s already factored me into his life.”

Flo tilted her head, as gentle as always, “How do you feel about that?”

You hesitated for a second, then shrugged, a small smile playing on your lips, “Like maybe, I want to be factored in.”

The room fell into a soft, giddy silence, broken only by Sabina whispering, “Oh my god, you like him.”

“Yeah.”

“You love him,” Liv added in a sing-song voice, nudging you with her foot.

You rolled your eyes, but didn’t deny it.

Flo reached over topping up your glass, “Alright. That settles it. You’re bringing him to the next girls night. We need to see if he actually passes the test.”

“Oh, god-”

“Nope. Too late. You’re doomed. You let him feed your cats. That’s basically marriage.”

taglist: @jamiekluivert @reidyourpalms @roc-haze @whisperturnedecho @graceln4 @dopeysunflowers @super-gay-for-u @bethorwhateverr @livvymd @lilyyxoii @4ngelrealm @kiyoomology

#arthur hill #chrismd #george clarkey #italianbach #george clarke #arthur frederick #isaac smith #chris dixon #willne #arthurtv #will lenney x reader #willne x reader #will lenney #clarkeysbedchem

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inuyashaluver · 1 year ago

Note

Hi could you do smt abt being Lucy bronzes little sister who is the photographer for city women and is in a secret relationship with Leila Ouahabi and no one know because your “forbidden” to footballers per Lucy’s request as according to her your still a baby as your like 23/24 ish.

by the rule book - leila ouahabi

leila ouahabi x reader

description: in which you and your sister have a set of rules that you break because of a certain defender

warnings: let’s pretend leila attended the world cup, basically me yapping, swearing, angsty?

a/n: leila train has arrived back at my stop lmao, thank you so much for the request, much love, enjoy ❤️❤️

⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆

you and your sister had a set of rules that were heavily referenced while growing up, and the present.

this set of rules sworn on by each sister with the promise they would never be broken. and they weren’t, until leila came into the picture.

—

you were 8 years younger than your sister, lucy. you’re a bronze sister, meaning you were extremely fun, playful, but serious and stoic when you needed to be. you and your sister brought out the best in each other, expecting nothing but the finest.

lucy was the best older sister, she was funny and always included you in everything she did once you grew out of your snitch phase and actually became cool in her eyes. the two of you were always extremely close and that’s how you both liked it.

she encouraged you to put your heart to your passion, one of the main reasons you became a photographer.

lucy was extremely protective of you, hence why she created a simple set of rules between the two of you that shouldn’t be broken.

1 - don’t date any of lucy’s teammates

2 - don’t date any of (y/n)’s friends

3 - respect each other’s boundaries

4 - be honest with each other

5 - sisters come first

the rules were easily agreed upon by the both of you, they were made when you were 16 and lucy was 24.

—

you followed lucy around for photographer opportunities, landing yourself a permanent position on the media teams of both england and manchester city when lucy joined in 2020.

you always loved photography, adoring the feeling of capturing a canvas that would be around for years to come.

just before lucy joined in 2020, you were both at england camp. in free time, everyone would eagerly chatter about their new or current clubs they were going to.

you angled your camera at keira while leah marked her during a mini game, checking the photos with a pleased smile until your sister hopped on your back.

“munchkin!” (your nickname for as long as you can remember) “luce! get off!” you laugh, almost falling flat on your face until your sister got off you, giving you an exaggerated kiss on the cheek that you were quick to squeal and complain about.

“you’re so annoying” you grumble, unable to fight your smile at seeing your sister’s bright grin. “shut up, show me some pics, picasso” she teases.

you roll your eyes amusingly, giving her a sneak peek of all the photos you’d taken so far, letting out a bright laugh when she made you stop on a photo of her.

“that’s class” she pinches your cheek teasingly, “well done, baby sis” she coos teasingly, a couple of the girls coming over and teasing you too.

everyone viewed you as family and a teammate even though you were just their photographer, you’d been with them for so long, they’d grown a huge love for you.

“you excited for manchester, (y/n/n)?” leah throws an arm over your shoulder as you both walked inside st george, “yeah! should be good, nice and cold” you grin,

“maybe manchester city is where we can finally see you get a partner?” she teases, you both laugh, “lee, come on, you know the rules” you laugh, “i know the rules!” lucy calls out from behind you from where she was walking behind you.

you flip her off and she gasps offendedly, “i could get you fired for that!” she exclaims, you wave her off, laughing along with leah.

—

you, lucy and keira all lived together in manchester, splitting the rent and living comfortably.

but in 2022, the two of them got offered contracts for barcelona and they accepted, but you didn’t. manchester felt like home to you, and you really didn’t want to leave it.

it was the first time you’d been away from lucy, and don’t be mistaken, you are a highly independent person but something was so reassuring about having your sister with you.

before they moved, they helped you move into a flat for yourself, small and homey like you needed.

it was incredibly tearful dropping keira and lucy off to the airport, you don’t think you’ve ever felt your sister hug you so tight.

“i love you” she breathes out into your embrace, you hug her back equally as tight, “such a sap, bronzes don’t do that” you tease, receiving a slap on the back of your head.

it was daunting for the both of you to be apart, not really having to do that in your lives.

“i love you too” you smile, “i’ll call you when we land” lucy sniffs, hastily wiping away her tears and letting keira hug you as well. “my favourite bronze” keira smiles, both you and lucy letting out a wet laugh.

you wave them both off with a sad smile, waiting for them to go through the gate before you dragged yourself back to your car and drove off.

—

you went back to work at the beginning of the season, waiting for the girls to come outside to photograph their training session.

you smile and wave to familiar faces, taking a couple of test photos before you noticed a new face that you didn’t recognise at first, one of the new signings.

your eyes narrowed slightly in concentration when you looked at her, until you realised who it was. leila ouahabi.

you’ve never met her formally, only smiling at her in the hallways of national games if you had the chance. you always thought she was absolutely gorgeous, but you also appreciated the way she defended, even your sister agreeing she was incredible.

leila smiles at you, slightly surprised to recognise you slightly. the truth was, leila had been heavily looking at your social media platform ever since she laid eyes on you way back.

she thought you were gorgeous, she could tell you were a soft soul, with your charming smile and cute little face you made when you were concentrating on your camera.

she wanted to know you, she was just shy about it, not knowing to approach you, maybe this was the opportunity she needed.

—

training progressed, you smile pleasingly when you look back at your photos, your ultra focus showing on your facial features as you attempt to capture the best photos possible.

you were sat on the side of the pitch watching the girls train, your eyes subconsciously drifting to the spaniard.

it was until a mini game that a certain defender was chasing the ball, kicking it out and sliding directly next to you that your breathing quickened.

you look down to see her slightly wincing, heavily breathing and looking a little too attractive but that was an afterthought.

“are you okay?” you breathe out, the girl on the floor looks up at you surprised, a sly smile taking over her features.

“i’m fine, hermosa (beautiful), thank you” she winks, pushing herself up from the floor and dusting herself off, walking back to the pitch and making sure to look back at you with a flirty smile.

you blink in shock, what was that interaction?

—

these interactions went on, situations where you felt extremely nervous around her even when she was barely doing anything.

you were photographing the new kit, only a set amount of players selected for the campaign, and luckily for you, leila was the very last model for the day.

leila came in with her charming smile and a dray of drinks in her hands, she perks up when you make eye contact.

“good morning, hermosa (beautiful)” she grins, extending the warm drink out to you, you look at her in surprise, a grateful smile gracing your features.

“morning, leila, thank you” you take a sip and let out a pleased sigh, “how did you know this is my favourite?” you tease.

“i read your cup” she says with a flirty smile, though her cheeks tinged slightly with pink. you smile before clearing your throat.

you go through the plans for the shoot, explaining what type of photos you’ll be taking, the approach of the shoot and what you needed from her.

she maintained eye contact the entire time you spoke, nodding along with each and every word and clarifying on things when she didn’t understand.

it was almost hard to press the shutter button when leila would pose, it was a simple, basic, arms crossed - stoic football pose photo that you’ve taken numerous times in your career but something was just so different about how leila did it.

her confidence poured out of her and her smirk made your stomach flip. she was serious but loved to joke around with you when the time called for it.

the two of you basically chatting, taking a photo, chatting, taking a photo. a simple yet effective formula that you both enjoyed. so much so, leila asked you to go out on a date with her and you accepted without a second thought.

—

the two of you went on a couple of dates before the two of you started dating. back then it was really fresh but extremely obvious with the heart eyes you’d send each other.

the manchester girls caught on before the two of you could even process it. and the only condition for everyone was to vow their silence around your sister with the promise of the best pictures being published.

as time progressed, you both moved in together, both of you in one of the most genuine, loving relationship the two of you had ever had.

—

“baby, i’m working” you giggle, pressed up against a random wall, one hand on leila’s hip, camera in the other.

“amor (love), you’re not working right now” she grins cheekily, lips quickly locking with yours. one of her hands on your cheek and one on your hip holding you close to her.

you let out a little exhale from your nose in a laugh, to focused on kissing your now girlfriend of a year.

it was hard hiding it from lucy, especially when the two of you lived together. you were able to get away with it most of the time, telling your sister your roommate was just really chatty.

“baby” you mumble against her lips, attempting to push her away by the chest but the girl was attached to you, “shh, let it happen” she mockingly scolds, giving you a stern look before she kissed you breathlessly.

that’s when you hear it, the chuckles and teasing coming from familiar blondes, alex and chloe. “get it, baby bronze” alex whistles, you and leila pulled away with a roll of both of your eyes.

“don’t forget about that photo i have of you, alex” you threaten, one taken of her with an expression on her face during a header that had her screeching in fear when she saw you laughing at it.

“you’re just as annoying as your sister” alex flips you off when you blow her a kiss, laughing as they walked away.

leila squishes your cheeks together with one of her hands, forming your lips into a little pout, “mi amor (my love), those are my kisses” she grins lazily, clearly teasing you when she placed a little kiss on your forced pout.

you usher her off to training, giving her a playful slap on her backside that she shook her head at.

—

it was during the 2023 world cup that you both got found out, and boy was it an experience. your sister was extremely confused as to why you were so excited spain was in the final, wondering what your certain new interest about the spanish team was about.

“don’t tell me you’re a traitor, munchkin?” lucy scoffs while you set up your camera on the pitch during a pre-match walk.

“luce, i’ve got my england merch on, thank you” you laugh, shaking your head as you take a quick photo of her with an evident frown on her face, her eyes narrowed at you.

“why do you keep looking at their bench?” she questions, following your eyes to see some of the spain girls walking out to do their own checks.

“why are you so paranoid, lucia?” you tease, punching her lightly on the arm and wincing when a slap made its way to the back of your head.

“some of the girl’s play for city, i’m just being nice” you rub your head in slight pain, glaring at your older sister that she returned.

“i’ll find out, i always do” she concludes, letting you go back to taking some photos and other little media bits.

—

and unfortunately for you. she did find out.

the girls were lining up in the tunnel, about 5 minutes until everyone would walk out. ironically you see you sister standing next to leila in the tunnel, you try to fight your smile when you make eye contact with your girlfriend.

she smiles at you, your bodies moving on their own as you completed her pre match ritual, three quick pecks on the lips.

you both smiled brightly when you pulled back, before you heard a sharp voice coming from behind you.

“what the fuck was that?” your sister exclaimed, her hand on your shoulder and spinning you around, both yours and leila’s eyes widened, realising what had just happened. “fucking ouahabi” she breathes out in disbelief.

“i really hope you’re fucking joking, (y/n) bronze because i’m not fucking laughing” she says lowly, not wanting to attract much attention but she was.

you just look up at your sister in shock, mouth slightly agape, “nah, we’re talking about this. later” she glares, both at you and leila.

the girls walk out and you watch them dumbly as you go. you were grateful that moment wasn’t recorded.

during half time your sister wouldn’t even look at you, brushing you off like you were nothing. “don’t” she pleads, walking past you as you tried to approach her.

you walk to the tunnel and felt the tears pricking in your eyes, and like a magnet, leila’s hand found yours, dragging you into a quiet corner where the two of you could have some privacy.

as soon as your girlfriend brought you into a tight embrace, you broke down. “shh, it’s okay” she hums, kissing your cheek softly as you cried in her arms.

she pulls back slightly, looking at you with a sad expression when she saw your tear streaked face, her hand moving up to wipe away the evidence.

“i didn’t want her to find out like that, i was ready to tell her tonight” you sniffle, leila nods along with your words, listening to your little ramble intently as she comforted you.

“i know, bebé (baby), i know” she says sympathetically, pulling you into another hug and just holding you.

she stayed with you the entire time, talking you down and making you look presentable before you went back on the pitch.

she knew she would get subbed off anyway, only wanting to focus on you for the minute. you were still in a hug when lucy came out of the change room, her face softening when she saw your red eyes.

she was about to say something but she stopped herself, not wanting to do this right away. she weirdly smiles at both of you, tight lipped but still somewhat of a smile.

“it’s okay” leila whispers, and it really felt like it was.

leila kisses you softly before she makes her way back on the pitch, and of course when the match ended and england lost, the mood changed.

your sister let you hug her tightly after the loss, holding onto you for dear life as she hugged you. “luce, i’m so sorry, you played so well” you whispered, your hand rubbing up and down her back.

“i’m sorry, munchkin, we still need to talk” she sniffles, wiping away her tears and giving you a gentle smile. you nod, pulling her into another tight hug before you went off to congratulate your girlfriend, weirdly through the encouragement of your sister.

“hey, baby” you smile at your girlfriend, giving her a quick hug when she presses a quick kiss to your cheek.

“hermosa (beautiful)” she greets with a bright smile, “congratulations” you whisper, she thanks you quickly, looking over your shoulder to see your sister hovering around with tears in her eyes, walking around by herself.

“give me one second” leila whispers, gripping your hand gently and walking over to lucy, you and your sister having matching surprised expressions.

“i want to honest, i love your sister, we have been together for a year and we were going to tell you sooner but she was really scared and i respect her” she blurts out,

“i would love to talk about this with you, if you’ll let me” leila says nervously, lucy pauses for a moment before nodding, pulling leila into an extremely quick hug but extremely meaningful.

“sure thing, leila” your sister smiles, a little laugh escaping her lips, “you know, you broke rule number one” lucy teases, telling you everything was going to be okay.

“it doesn’t count! you left when she came over” you groan, letting leila tuck you into her side as she giggled, watching you and your sister bicker like kids.

she could tell how much you cared about each other. but lucy could tell the same for the both of you.

—

all three of you did have that talk, you and your girlfriend explained the details of your relationship to your sister that she was actually quite happy about.

she’d never seen you so happy, so light with any of your previous partners.

she could tell you both loved each other because it was so painfully obvious but she was truly happy after she let out a rant about how you literally broke every rule in the contact.

she got over it though, a hefty shopping spree having your bank account screaming for salvation.

⋆ �� ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆

you know the drill - pretend it’s you! ily oniiii

liked by alexiaputellas and 44,232 others

leilaouahabi: biggest fan and personal photographer

view all comments

yourname: baby, my job is a photographer

↳ leilaouahabi: you’re no fun

lucybronze: hands off my sister

↳ yourname: you’re annoying

↳ lucybronze: you’re annoying

↳ leilaouahabi: i won’t touch her i swear

↳ yourname: sureeeeeeee

alexgreenwood5: so happy i don’t have to but my tongue anymore

↳ lucybronze: you knew?

↳ alexgreenwood5: no comment

leahwilliamsonn: told you!!

↳ yourname: you really did!

#woso x reader #woso fanfics #woso one shot #woso imagine #leila ouahabi x reader #leila ouahabi

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b1rds3ye · 2 years ago

Note

hi!! this is my first time doing a request so idk if I'm doing this right haha but uh, I was wondering if you could do like. yknow the masked one you made for the 141 (I can't remember the name rn💔)? I thought of like, a sequel idea. like, what if during combat an enemy manages to take reader's mask, and so reader panics and like, rips the enemies throat out with their teeth (or if that's too violent, just goes basically rabid on them lmao) and how they would react?? if this is too violent or specific dw you don't have to!! anyways, I love your content it's totally awesome ur writing is amazing! have a good day!!

YES I LOVE THE BADASSERY AND THE UNHINGEDNESS!! If I'm your first request I'm so flattered anon pls do feel free to drop by again <333 Also just going to do general rabidness because ngl the throat thing sounds like an infection speedrun and we want our masked reader to stay nice and healthy <333

Word Count: 1.2 (it got a little long WHOOPS)

Warning: Canon typical violence, reader does get a lil sadistic and unhinged <333

Beyond Task Force 141 and Laswell, many - if not all - allied soldiers wondered about what lay under your mask. Obscuring even the eyes, your visage was more unreadable than Ghost's. Larger than life, a soldier among men.

There was a running joke that there was just nothing under your mask, perhaps an eldritch horror of sorts. You let the new recruits entertain the thought, it kept morale up as they conjured more myths of you. They said that no one has seen you without your mask. They were partially right.

It simply was that no one lived to tell the tale.

You were never one for close combat, but fighting terrorists was never smooth sailing. The chaos of battle had all of the 141 separated against the tight streets of Las Almas. How uncanny that you could not see your allies but hear their gunfire. Running out of ammo, you couldn't lament at your misfortune as a shoulder pummeling into your chest, sending you to the ground and the air out of your lungs. Head bashing against the floor you groaned as you furiously clawed up to whatever heavy weight was crushing your body. You were starting to make up the figure of a man hovering over you through the blurry haze of a concussion that filled your sight. The distant static of Price's voice through the radio, probably asking where the hell were you but you had more pressing issues at hand.

Through your struggle and flailing limbs you managed to wring the enemy's pistol off of them with a painful twist of their wrist. And they retaliated tenfold, a large sweaty hand reaching down and pressing your head back against the ground. Your adrenaline makes you writhe further, he was going to suffocate you, or worse, poison you with how fucking awful his hand smelt as the stink of burning gunpowder replaced any of your oxygen. But no, he committed a far worse crime.

A singular pull and the grating tear of fabric as your mask is pulled off of your face.

A heavy moment where your enemy looks down at you and his gaze is not like before. It's clear, it's deep. It is not looking at your facade but at you and you are no longer a soldier. You are merely a human, so fragile, so weak. One that is on the verge of death in a foreign land surrounded by bodies of fallen comrades and enemies alike. One whose mythos is all but lost at the victorious and leering smirk of an enemy as they take in your face.

That simply won't do.

Pulling your knee up to create space between you and the man, you pull out your tactical knife from your waist and drive it into his torso. His smile falls only to land at settle on yours below him, just like his blood that trickles as forbidden crimson down your hands and seeps into your uniform. It's disgustingly warm. He grows heavier as he loses all control over his body and you heave to throw his figure off to the side. You stab him once again for good measure. And then again. And again. Quick, short jabs down with a sharpened blade that cuts through uniform, flesh and bone alike. You did not count how many times you drove your blade down, numbers were too complex when your mind was running faster than any comprehensible speed. There was only one goal. To make sure no one knows what happened.

A harsh grip on the shoulder yanks you back up and you swipe with your armed limb to cut your new assailant's neck but they were onto you. Catching your arm, they pull it up as they hold onto your shoulder once again with a tightening grip that digs into your uniform. But they do nothing more, no matter how much you thrash and kick.

"Wake up, Sergeant," your opponent seethes and that voice makes you still, a buoy that floats across through your rage. Deep and grounding and your captain's.

You nearly stumble back but Price catches you before you crumple to the ground in exhaustion. The adrenaline was escaping your body leaving you with barely the energy to stay upright. Your head lolls back for a second before you bring it to the side to look at your direct superior, the remnants of a concussion making your vision blurry.

"You broken?" he asks.

"Negative, sir,” you respond immediately but he looks a little doubtful, a singular eyebrow raised as he inspects you. Not your body, but your face. The dilated pupils and the taut muscles told more than any wound.

"Can't say the same about your wee friend over there," Soap whistles as he tilts his head to behind you. “Christ, you did a number on him.”

You dare turn to look over your shoulder but Ghost already situated himself in front of the body. But between his feet you could already make out the indistinguishable mass of tattered fabric and discoloured flesh. Fresh blood filled the rivets between the cobblestones, the remnants of the body inching its way closer to you-

"Was it the mask?" Simon brings your attention back to him. You nod dumbly. He only dips his head in what you can only describe as understanding as he folds his arms, fortifying his stance in front of the mess you made. You weren’t going to see your handiwork, he was too kind to ever let you.

John drops his hands down to his sides as Gaz approaches you with your mask.

"Remind me to never get on your bad side," Kyle offers you a sympathetic smile.

"Learnt that the first day I saw 'em on duty," Johnny retorts and you instinctively smile as you take your mask from Kyle. The hardened plaster of your mask had cracked, the fabric that hugged your neck had become torn but it'll do for the remainder of the mission. Slipping the mask back on, Simon offers a nod of approval while Johnny tugged at the fabric for a few finishing touches.

Ultimately the mission was successful. The task force returns to base and although none of the boys mentioned the carnage you left, there are still whispers of it on base. You had hurried to debrief and get your mask fixed but it seemed some privates caught sight of you and that was enough to spark rumours. Your mask had gotten so fractured that a shard was left back in the streets of Las Almas and revealed one of your eyes to the rest of the world. Such a small organ but so vivid. The privates saw, and more was added to the myth that was you. There was now no question about what was under the mask. No lovecraftian horror or empty space, no monster beyond comprehension. No, what was under your mask was terrifyingly human.

Masked Reader Masterlist Call of Duty Masterlist

#cod x reader #call of duty x reader #cod x you #task force 141 x reader #captain price x reader #john price x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #john mactavish x reader #soap x reader #gaz x reader #kyle garrick x reader #anon mail ❤️#/*avery checks the mailbox*/#/*avery actually writes*/#/*cod x masked reader*/

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solitary-traveler · 1 year ago

Text

Charisma Etched on Strings

You despised being near Scaramouche. It was a danger to your well-being.

Because all you can feel is the warmth of his body traveling to yours, enclosing around you and morphing into the oxygen that you so desperately need to survive.

Electric guitarist!Scaramouche x Gn!Reader

Notes: I swear this one has no set pov. It switches between Scara and the reader so I apologize for that. Also, I'm not that good at wiriting x readers *insert crying emoji*

Warning: Slight cursing

It was supposed to be a harmless guitar lesson.

So how the fuck did you end up sitting on this shithead’s lap?

“Easy sweetheart. Stop squirming," Scaramouche’s grating voice reverberated throughout the otherwise empty room. The words he spouts are pestiferous, enough to ensure a fist will land on his face if he doesn’t shut up soon. You merely asked him for a guitar lesson, not to be manhandled and subjectively humiliated by this sick bastard of a friend. “Get me off your lap!" you protest, writhing against his arms.

You want nothing to do with this.

Yet he cages you with that god-forbidden instrument of his, propping the black, electric guitar in front of you. You were effectively sandwiched between that handsome son of a bitch and his prized musical instrument. “You said you wanted to learn right?" he mused, his calloused hand cascading down your wrist to seize it securely, "This is the fastest way."

Lies.

You scoff at his pathetic excuse to justify himself. He’s just so full of bull. You know he was amused at your predicament, your thrashing and twisting igniting a twinge of sadistic pleasure within him. Scara shifts slightly, a lock of your hair twirled around his index finger, “Now stop moving so we can start our lesson.”

Without much of a choice, you reluctantly compelled to his demands. Your tantrums ceased, much to Scara's entertainment. He knows how much you detest your current dilemma and he couldn't help but take advantage of it. He wants to mess with you. To increasingly rile you up every passing second. He presses his chest completely against your back, wanting to see those cute little veins of yours pop out. His lips twitched upwards as he made sure there wouldn't be any space left between you two. He could hear your pretty lips part and verbalize a gasp.

A sweet, sweet treat for his ears.

He couldn't be bothered to give you a chance to retaliate. It was way more fun toying with you when he rendered you helpless. Leaning closer and letting his breath fan against the tip of your ears, his fruity voice resounds through your brain and into your spine in the form of shivers. "Let's learn some basic chords first," he murmurs as he slinks his fingers towards yours, hovering over them. Scara felt the smirk on his face expand, you sure do have a warm set of hands. He surely wouldn't mind if it was pressed with his all the time. Stuck in his wishful thinking, he absentmindedly squeezed your thumb lightly. He blinks. Ah, he was getting distracted. He clears his throat and he proceeds, "Just like in every lesson, we start with C".

He adjusts your index finger to pin the second string on the first fret. He does the same with your middle and ring finger, stationing them on the second fret of the fourth string and the third fret of the fifth string respectively. His loitering fingers aid in pushing down the strings as he's aware that you're probably not pressing down hard enough. It also helped restrain any movements that may disrupt the sound when plucked. You, on the other hand, verbalized a protest.

“Hey, that hurts," you hissed as you tried to lift your finger off. Even just slightly. But Scara wouldn't let you. He remains unfazed, unbothered by the fact that your fingers are possibly bruising underneath his. “It’s supposed to idiot, it's your first time,” Scara rolls his eyes and his resolve to keep your finger position doesn't falter.

You'll definitely punch him after this.

“Now strum,” he instructs and you've got half the mind to not follow through. Curse your curiosity though, washing away each and every one of your senses, dulling them and allowing it to control your other hand to strum the strings. It made a tune, not akin to those voice cracks of teenagers going through puberty or screeching bats when viciously searching for their next meal. It was a pleasant melody, a fine sound that signifies a correct mark. Scara smiles, watching in delight how taken aback you looked. "Good. Next chord," he was ready to shift the position of your fingers once more. Your fingers wouldn't budge though. You've reached your limit.

You've certainly had enough.

Your heart's been racing since the beginning and you were sure you won't be able to take it anymore. Not with him being this close. You catch a whiff of his perfume, a woody fragrance with a base of leather that never fails to drive you insane. You want to smash your head against the wall so badly.

You despised being near him. It was a danger to your well-being.

Because all you can feel is the warmth of his body traveling to yours, enclosing around you and morphing into the oxygen that you so desperately need to survive.

"This is stupid", you scoffed before he could move your fingers. Scara tilts his head in your direction. Oh? Were you going to object to him again? How cute. He chuckles and raises his brow, “What is?”

“Your way of teaching.” With a groan, you go back to your squirming strategy to try and break loose from his predatorial hold, “Can't we do this without being an inch away from each other?”

Scara merely laughs at you. ‘Why? Does the closeness bother you?" he teases. He would get closer to you if he could, but there's literally no more space left between you and him. So he opts to angle his lips adjacent to your neck and let out a drag of air. His breath brushes against your skin, parallel to a gentle caress from a lover. He was so sure he just heard your breathing hitch. Adorable.

“Is this better?” he smirks, heaving a drawn-out breath once more. You shake your head and writhe, flailing your arms wildly in a fit of fulmination. Scara can't help but grin at your antics. He doesn't back down, reinforcing his hold over you. He won’t let go. I mean, why would he? When you fit perfectly in his arms?

Your scuffle abated for a second and he caught the way your face turned into a stunning shade of red. “Aw, you're even blushing for me," he remarks, prompting you to resume your thrashing.

“Of course not! Why would I be!?”

Scara chuckles, his gaze never leaving you. "Why the denial? Anyone with eyes can see how red you've gotten because of me."

You wanted to wipe that smug expression plastered on his face. He knows that. He's just reveling in the fact that you couldn't.

He elevated his head to meet your twitching ears, ready to grace them with an assortment of breathy words bound to hit that sore spot in your heart. "There's nothing to deny you know? Not when I'm right here. Mindful and observant of how you feel towards me."

His fingers dragged from your jaw to your cheek, leaving a touch so sensual it's flabbergasting at most. He rested his hands along your cheek as he spoke with an allure that was sure to keep you on the edge, subconsciously thirsting for more. "I know you like me. You like it when we're this close," he continues, cocking your head up and exposing more of that tempting throat of yours. Not that he can see it from his point of view, but from the front? It would certainly be a sensual sight that would drive every inch of his self-control onto the edge of a cliff.

"I don't mind it though. I don't mind watching your pathetic descent into the abyss of my heart," he chuckles, hands falling towards your lips. It was quite the contrast, his rough fingers kneading against your soft and plump lips.

"So just fall for me, yeah?" his thumb rubs your upper lip in a circular motion. Honestly, he's tempted to shove his finger in your mouth. He wants to hear your feeble whines as he occasionally toys with your tongue, your erotic whimpers that deluges his entire sensibility. But he doesn't. At least not now.

"I'll be sure to catch you"

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dustmusings · 6 months ago

Text

my kingdom for a kiss

Fives x F!Reader / Jedi!Reader

word count: 8.7k

description: yours and fives' friendship has never been easy for you to navigate, but after a particularly painful mission throws your faith into question, you need comforting more than ever

content warnings: NSFW 18+ angst, emotional hurt/comfort sorta, unestablished relationship, forbidden relationship, oral (f!recieving), pinv sex, talk of the jedi order, mutual pining, kinda dramatic admitting feelings, basically fives and reader being atrociously down bad for each other. the smut is kinda vague tbh

a/n: fives is a pathetic male yearner. that's my headcanon. hence why the title is a jeff buckley lyric lol. also i'm still not super confident writing smut so just don't perceive me okay? cool, thanks. this might be my favourite thing I've written???

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You had never been one to enjoy a battle as it was, but this one was really testing you.

A significant amount of your men had already been lost, and it was getting harder to push it from your mind. You stood your ground nonetheless, your lightsaber whirring in front of you, a blue shield that redirected the blaster bolts gunning for the men that still remained.

Your breath was heavy, ripping from you at a pace you could only beg the maker to allow you to keep. Your body was tired, but you kept your mind focused, tuned into your surroundings. You could only call on the force to aid you so much as you stayed resistant to you body’s pleas for rest, and so you pushed on, pursuing the enemy's left flank. A familiar shiver ran up your spine, and you whirled around, your eyes laying upon the unfolding scene that the force was warning you of.

“Captain, watch out!” you called, sprinting in his direction, praying that you could get to him before the incoming commando droid made its attack.

Right before you reached his position, another commando leapt at you, drawing your focus. You made short work of it, slicing the arm that reached towards you before cutting a clean line through their middle. However, when you turned around, the other commando had clearly marked you as the more immediate threat, and you received a strong blow to your nose.

You stumbled backwards from the impact, and though the pain wasn’t unbearable, tears filled your vision by way of simple biological response. The droid landed a forceful hit to your side before you realised that relying on your eyes was a hopeless pursuit. You instead placed your trust in the force, squeezing your eyes shut. You rolled forwards, the rough terrain biting into your robes, and turned back to face the droid, bringing the blade of your lightsaber up through the centre of it.

“Thank you General!” Rex shouted over the soundscape of the battle, “Are you alright?”

“I will be once—” you interrupted yourself with a sharp cough, “once we push these kriffing clankers—”

“General! Are you okay?”

Your vision was only just becoming clear again, but you didn’t need to see to recognise who was speaking to you.

“Yes Fives, I’m fine” you huffed as you blinked away your tears. Your eyes found the clone in question who looked visibly worried about you, his helmet clutched in his hand.

“Are you injured?” he asked hurriedly, ushering you behind some cover as a blaster bolt whizzed past, dangerously close to your cheek.

“No” you replied, the lie slipping from your tongue easily, “but this isn’t working. I think it might be time to start getting creative”

The corners of his lips lifted at that.

“Got it General” he gave you a small salute, slipping his helmet back over his head, “See you on the other side”

You watched him rush back into the battle, unable to contain the fond smile that broke out on your face. When you tried to re-join the battle yourself, the left side of your abdomen cried out, stopping you in your tracks. It didn’t feel like anything was broken, but the commando droid had dealt you a nasty blow, and it was certain to be a painful bruise at the very least.

You quieted your mind, bringing your focus back to what was important as you stepped out from the cover. The war, the battle, victory.

When did you begin to care about such things?

Stepping off the gunship and aboard the Resolute, you fought to keep a heaving sigh from escaping your lips. Your face was the picture of stoicism, your mouth set in a hard line for fear that your emotions could bubble up and pour out of you at any second. This mission had well and truly pushed you to the limit.

You were ushered into a mission debrief immediately, though you were far from engaged. Your frown was evident to everyone around you, a deep crease set in your brow that anyone else would have thought was a scowl. The clones of the 501st knew better. You lost a lot of good men today. It was hard not to see it as a personal failure when they were placed under your command, but either way, the loss weighed heavily on your mind.

You started making your way back to your quarters after the debrief, though quickly found yourself just ambling about the ship, little care for where you were going.

Your mind was a mess.

You couldn't help but feel disillusioned by the whole ordeal. Talking with the other generals about the battle you had just been in, about the clones you lost, as if it were a necessary price to pay. You believed the teachings of the jedi, you believed they meant to do good, but for too long you had been nothing more than a soldier, a pawn in a game with no end in sight, and a meaning which still eluded you.

You couldn't begin to imagine how the clones felt about it all. They were made for this purpose, unlike you, but that was certainly more horrifying to think about. You were closer with your men than some of the other generals, and it sometimes felt like they were the only people you could truly trust. They were loyal, almost to a fault, and you made sure they knew how you felt about their place in everything. It had been hard going trying to convince some of them that they were worth the risk of protecting on the battlefield.

Though you tried to instil in all of them a sense of self worth, there were still those you were closer to than others. You were most familiar with Rex, given that he was your Captain, and you had spent a lot of downtime with Tup and Dogma as well.

And then there was Fives.

Something about your relationship with Fives had always felt different. From the first meeting, it had felt like there was something pulling you towards him, something you didn't want to acknowledge. You were eternally fascinated by his mind, his benevolence, and he had an irresistible charm to him that manifested in everything he did. Internally, you fought tooth and nail to let your mind be still around him, tune out the feelings he gave you, but it never seemed to quite work.

You knew you shouldn't be harbouring such feelings as a jedi, but you figured that maybe it wouldn't be a problem at all if you just ignored them. Safe to say, it didn't work.

It was a fool's errand really, there was no point in indulging in how you felt about him, but you did anyway. He made it difficult not to. The way he looked at you set your insides alive in a way that just hadn't happened with anyone else before. You couldn't help but dwell on what it would be like to forget all about your vows to the jedi order, and satiate your apparent need for him.

Though, you could at least have him to thank for keeping you in check at the very least. He refused to call you by your name, your rank being the more preferable nickname, and he was courteous to an almost ridiculous level. He walked the line between dutiful trooper and good friend masterfully, and you had to applaud his professionalism.

You didn't fully realise where your feet had taken you until you were standing in the doorway of the barracks, the clones inside turning to look at you.

“General” Jesse grinned up at you, “Come and join the game!”

You smiled weakly at him as you stepped into the room, “not really in the mood Jesse”

“Come on” he dragged out the syllables in a mockingly whiny tone, “we all know you're the best at Sabacc”

You huffed a short laugh, “I still maintain that you're all just really bad”

“Well then feast your eyes” he spread his arms, knocking Hardcase from his seat in the process.

You shook your head with a chuckle as the pair began playfully arguing, casting a glance around the room. You realised even before you'd taken a proper look that the one you really wanted to talk to wasn't there, the usual pull not drawing your attention.

“Dogma” you placed your hand on his shoulder, the only clone that wasn't partaking in the game of Sabacc in some manner, “where are Tup and Fives?”

Dogma looked up at you, brows drawn together slightly as if in confusion. “Fives was injured, Tup took him to the medbay when we got back” he informed you, noting your growing stress immediately, “I'm sorry General, I thought you knew”

“Don't be sorry Dogma, thank you for letting me know”

You sped out of the barracks before you could even hear the clone's reply, walking with haste in the direction of the injured trooper.

You tried to keep your worries at bay, but the growing sense of dread was gnawing at you. From the back of your mind, a guilt started to creep in. It was hard enough losing the amount of men that you had today, but losing Fives too would be a pain you couldn't return from. You couldn't let that happen, not on your watch.

The door to the medbay swung open as you barged your way in, heads turning in your direction at the intrusion. Your eyes quickly found Fives’, sat on a cot at the back of the room and talking to Tup. You made a beeline for him instantly.

“What happened? Where are you hurt?” you asked, eyes scanning over his form as you drew your brows into a deep frown. His armour was still intact, only his helmet taken off and resting beside him.

“General…?” Fives addressed you with a worried look, and it was then that you realised how heavily you were breathing. You had clearly been walking faster than you realised.

“I'm sorry” you took a moment to catch your breath, a light blush dusting your cheeks, “Dogma said you were hurt, I—”

You then noticed the graze on his cheekbone. From the looks of it, it seemed that a blaster bolt had narrowly missed its mark, instead only scorching across the skin of his cheek.

“Is this it?” you asked, stepping forwards and gently tracing your fingers across the underside of the burn.

Fives didn't respond right away, and you felt his body go rigid under your touch.

“Um, it—” he cleared his throat, and you noticed his cheeks flush red, “yeah, Tup made me come in, it's just a scratch, nothing major”

“Good” you said softly, almost a whisper.

You gaze lingered on him as you took your hand away, noting the way his brows scrunched upwards, his eyes seemingly searching yours for some kind of explanation as to your suddenly affectionate actions.

Tup cleared his throat, snapping you both from your trance, and Fives shifted in his seat. It was only by his leg grazing yours that you realised that you'd wound up standing between his legs, and you stepped backwards quickly, trying to act unphased despite the blush you could feel creeping up the back of your neck.

“Did you need me for anything, General?” Fives spoke awkwardly, using his hands all too much for how much he was saying.

“No, yeah, just wanted to— I mean, yea— No” you stuttered out, and heard Tup fail to suppress a laugh.

You scolded yourself internally for being so affected by him, to the point where you were acting completely strange in front of your men. You really shouldn't give in so easily. You had done so much training in keeping your mind from seeking selfish desires, but those parts of your mind seemed to shut down around Fives.

It occurred to you then that you'd never so much as touched him before, and his alarmed reaction suddenly made a whole lot of sense. It also made you realise that he'd never touched you either, and you felt your face heat even more at your foolishness.

“I’ll just see you later” you mumbled out, realising you had just been staring at him for a moment too long.

Fives watched you leave the medical bay with a furrowed brow, though Tup, on the other hand, was smirking broadly.

In the dead of night, when everyone else was most likely in the deepest part of their sleep, your mind was still active, working overtime, and keeping you as awake as you had been during the battle. Everything you believed in was being thrown into question, it was hard not to. Then, at the centre of it all, was Fives. Fives, who was always on your mind. Fives, who always reminded you why you felt like this, just when you thought you'd gotten over it. Fives, who was respectful and affable and professional in a way that made you crazy.

You became distracted from your thoughts when you heard something outside your room. A shadow appeared beneath the door to the corridor, waited for a moment, and then disappeared again. It happened a few times before your curiosity overwhelmed you, and you quietly lifted yourself from your cot to walk over.

You let the person walk away once more, waiting to see what they would do, and this time it seemed like they wouldn't come back. Though, after a short while, the shadow returned, and you opened up your door.

Much to your surprise, your eyes met those of the man that plagued your thoughts, and he was clearly just as surprised that you had opened the door.

“General! I'm so sorry, I’ll jus—”

“Fives, relax”

You put your hand on his shoulder, and as he was not adorned by his usual armour, he looked as if your touch had burnt into him, wincing.

“What brings you here? Is everything alright?” you asked, noting his somewhat distressed visage.

“Everything is fine General, I'm sorry for disturbing your sleep” he spoke quickly, starting to walk away.

“Fives” you grabbed his arm to stop him leaving, “I wasn't asleep. Tell me what's troubling you”

There were more emotions than you could name flitting through his eyes, and it worried you. You had never seen him like this. His eyes flicked down your figure, no doubt noticing how you hadn't yet changed from your robes and armour, and you realised that your face was most likely still smeared with dirt.

“Would you like to come in?” you asked softly when he didn’t reply.

Fives looked startled, “I— I shouldn't”

You sighed, frowning a little, “I'm not really concerned with what you should or shouldn't do. If it would ease your mind, I'd like you to come in”

His distressed expression relented enough to see that your words had hit home for him. You stepped to the side, inviting him inside and he waited for another second before entering. You closed the door behind you and went back over to your cot, though Fives was still standing awkwardly by the door.

“Would you like to sit down?” you asked, patting your hand on the cot next to you.

Fives did as you said, as if it were a command, and you wished for just one moment that he would stop seeing you as nothing more than his commanding officer. He was wringing his hands as he took his seat, and you only became more worried.

“Now, tell me what's on your mind”

He looked up to you and paused, before looking away again, “I couldn't sleep”

You nodded, encouraging him to go on, “why not?”

“I—” his eyes found yours again, a vulnerability shining in them that you had only seen a few times, “I was worried about you General”

“About me?” your brow furrowed on instinct, “why?”

“I don't mean this rudely, but… you were acting kind of weird earlier, I only wanted to make sure you were alright”

Your frown softened at his words, a small smile appearing, and you placed a hand on his arm, “thank you Fives, that's very considerate, but you don't have to worry about me”

Fives gave you a funny sort of look, as if you'd just said something preposterous, “I'll always worry about you General, It's our job— my job to look after you”

You couldn't help but smile at how sweet he was, but it was tinged with a sadness of remembering the power imbalance between you. You had always tried to minimise it — you saw your life as the same value as the clones — but you knew that they didn't see it that way, and neither did anyone else.

You sighed, moving your gaze to the floor in front of you as you pulled your knees to your chest, “today was just… difficult”

Fives nodded in understanding, watching as your carefully constructed noble exterior began to crumble away.

“It's hard not to feel like everything is pointless, for nought. We lost so many men today, men that I—” you paused before you could get too choked up, “it's hard to tell people that their life has value when it's not treated as such”

Fives breathed out a long breath, “myself and my brothers are prepared to die for you, General, as much as you—”

“Well I don't want that” you almost snapped at him, your frown showing how you disapproved of the comment, “I didn't ask for this, for—”

You knew you shouldn't go on. Fives didn't need to know that you were questioning the order and your place in the war. It wasn't for him to bear the burden of.

“Today was tough” he agreed in a soft voice, and your eyes flicked to the now almost healed burn across his cheek, “it didn't feel like a win, at the end of the day”

You hummed in agreement. No victory could make up for the loss you felt.

“It makes me…angry, and I shouldn't be” you admitted quietly, and you could feel the weight of his gaze as you forced your eyes away from him.

You wanted to confide in Fives. He made it so easy, made you feel so safe. Safe enough to tell him your darkest secrets and deepest desires, but you knew no good could come of it. What point was there in telling a soldier under your command that you didn't believe in what he was specifically created to do?

“General” Fives called gently, if a little insistently, and you realised that you had completely zoned out.

“Sorry, what?” you looked up at him, blinking a few times and lifting your chin from where it rested on your knees.

“I asked why you were still wearing your armour… and your robes”

“Oh” you looked down at yourself, “I… I don't know. I was distracted, I suppose”

Fives sighed a little, giving you a somewhat unimpressed look.

“What?” you asked, almost a chuckle.

“I think I was right to be worried about you, General” his unimpressed expression invaded his words, and you let out a breathy laugh.

“I'm fine, Fives — really. I just need to… wash the day off, probably”

“Yeah, you certainly do” he mumbled out, a small smirk lifting his lips.

You scoffed at him as you stood from your cot, “you're lucky I like you Fives. Any other commanding officer would send you to the brig for telling them they stink”

He chuckled and ducked his head slightly, “I didn't just mean it like that. You've got…” he gestured to his cheek, and you caught your reflection as you turned on the refresher light, taking his meaning.

“Maker, I can't believe I looked this awful the whole time and you didn't say anything” you laughed quietly, taking in your certainly battle-worn appearance.

There was dirt crusted onto your face and into your hair, and the eyebags that weighed down the skin under your eyes were more prominent than you'd seen in a long time. The war was clearly stretching you thin, and you sighed at how dull and lifeless you looked overall.

“I'll have a shower” you gave Fives a weak smile as you crossed the room to your chest of drawers, pulling out a fresh set of sleep clothes.

Fives shifted uncomfortably on the bed, “uh— do you want me to leave?”

“Oh” you spoke a little disappointedly, “if you would like to. It is late after all, and I don’t wish it keep you from your sleep”

“No, I—” he cleared his throat, “I just— I wouldn't want to make you uncomfortable, General”

You smiled at him warmly, your hand coming to rest on your hip, “you're not making me uncomfortable. In fact, it's nice to have you here”

His throat constricted as he swallowed, “thank you, General”

You rolled you eyes at the formality as you stepped back into the refresher once more.

“One of these days I'll get you to stop calling me that” you grumbled, and heard a huffed laugh coming from your room.

“Probably not”

You rested against the doorframe for a moment to look at the ARC trooper who was sat on your cot with a playful squint of your eyes, “that's not very dutiful of you, trooper”

“I didn't hear any orders” he shrugged, failing to suppress a smirk.

“Mm” you hummed thoughtfully, pushing off the doorframe, “don't tempt me”

You closed the door to the refresher and let out a long breath.

It felt oddly domestic, Fives sat on your cot as you threw teases his way before you went in the shower. Something inside you ached at the realisation that it would be something you'd never get to do under any normal circumstances. You longed to see a day when it would be acceptable in the eyes of those around you, but you knew you'd never see it. You felt hollow as you stepped into the shower.

You let the water wash over you, clearing dirt and grime with every droplet. Before long, you found yourself curled up and sat under stream of water, letting the weight of it hit your back as you cradled your head. Everything felt so crushing in that moment. The war, the day's losses, your duty as a jedi, a duty that you weren't sure you even understood anymore.

You didn’t realise how long you'd been sat there until you heard a gentle rapping against the door.

“General, are you okay?”

You sniffled, and only realised then that you had been crying. Perhaps Fives had heard you.

“I'm fine” you called weakly, “I'll be out soon”

You finished cleaning yourself mindlessly, fingers tangling in your hair as you worked the dirt out of it and letting the heat of the steam envelop you, almost making you feel feint. You welcomed it, a strange state of delirium that pushed your mind to a stillness. You slid on your clean clothes, a soft vest and shorts, beginning to dry your hair as you reopened the door to your room.

Fives still sat on the cot, and you gave him a gentle smile as you switched off the light. His eyes trailed the length of your body quickly before settling on your face, giving you a soft smile in return.

“Feel better?” he asked.

You nodded, reaching up to continue drying your hair with your towel, “yeah, I—”

“General!” Fives’ eyes went wide and he jumped up from his seat, rushing over to you.

You stepped back as he approached, confused by his sudden outburst. His hand retracted from where it reached out towards you and his eyes found yours once more, a look of something desperate in his eyes.

“I didn't know you were injured. Why didn't you get Kix to look at it?”

“What?” you frowned, looking down at your body.

You top had obviously rode up a little as you had stretched, and the bottom of a very dark, and very large, bruise poked out the bottom. You peeled up the top gently, conscious not to show too much, but equally revelling in how it just seemed to grow ever larger the more you revealed. Your hip and the left side of your ribcage were a mix of unpleasant purples, blues, and yellows.

“I— I forgot” you breathed out, remembering exactly when you would have sustained the injury. As expected, the commando droid had left a mark.

“You forgot?” Fives asked, incredulous.

You pulled your vest down, covering the offending mark.

“You need to get it checked out” Fives insisted.

“I'm fine, it doesn't even hurt” you replied, waving him off as you took your seat on your cot once more, against the headboard so that you faced the clone who stood across the room.

“General, please”

He retook his spot on the cot, giving his best pleading look. You didn't reply, and couldn't, for fear of the undignified squeak that would come out if you did. His eyes flicked between yours, searching for whatever it was that was going on behind them. You couldn't help the way your eyes began to water, and the distress on Fives’ face was clear as day.

“General” he spoke softly as he shifted closer to you, as if the rank was an affectionate nickname more than anything, “what's the matter?”

You fiddled with your fingers as you brought your knees to your chest once more, a comforting gesture as you showed far more vulnerability than you were usually comfortable with.

“Things aren't how they should be, Fives” you muttered, almost a whisper.

“What things?” he asked, innocently enough, though the way his body tensed told you how the words worried him.

“I— I'm really beginning to question some of the decisions of the council”

Fives looked alarmed, his voice betraying him further, “you're not going to leave, are you?”

You chuckled a little at his reaction, “probably not, no”

“Then…” he paused, not wishing to overstep any boundaries, “what decisions are you questioning?”

You sighed deeply, looking away in search of answers. What were you really questioning? Was it just the way that they conducted themselves in the war? Or did your suspicion run deeper? Was it the members of the council themselves? Was it what they believed? Or was it how the jedi were perceived by the galaxy?

“I don't know” you answered truthfully, “there are things I’ve always had qualms with — I’ve never understood some things such as… I feel that attachment is a natural part of the human condition, so I’ve always struggled with letting go, but… with the war, I worry that the purpose of the jedi is changing”

“Changing how?” Fives asked.

“The war means we have different priorities” you replied simply, turning you gaze back to him, “we’re no longer keepers of the peace. We can’t be, not while we’re leading a war”

Fives nodded and kept quiet for a moment. It was clear that his mind was working overtime, his eyes flitting across your face and around the room as his brows drew together and he subtly chewed on the inside of his cheek.

“You struggle with letting go?” he questioned in a quiet voice, his eyes locking with yours. There was something in his gaze, like he was searching for a specific answer.

You tried to quell your sudden nerves with a gulp, “yes”

“In what way?”

“Um, well I—” you spoke ever so eloquently, “I suppose I haven’t always succeeded in remaining… disconnected, from other people”

Fives couldn’t help but raise a questioning brow, and you almost scoffed.

“I— you— it’s hard” you grumbled, a frustrated huff escaping you, “you and the other clones are all under my command, how am I supposed to just not care about you?”

Fives shrugged, a small smile spreading across his lips, “some of the other Generals seem to manage”

“Whatever” you rolled your eyes a little, “I don’t want to be indifferent. You’re important to me, and I don’t care what the council would have to say about that”

Fives’ smile tightened almost imperceptibly at your words, but you still caught the way it became false as he turned to look at the ground.

“Is there… something else troubling you?” you asked, tilting your head so that you entered his field of view.

“It’s nothing, General” he flashed the hollow smile your way as he stood from the cot, “I should really be going—”

“Fives” you grabbed his wrist gently, stopping him from going any further, “what’s the matter?”

The way he looked down at you was almost pained, like he’d been wounded and was trying his best to hide the discomfort. Your stomach lurched at the sight, and a worried crease formed in your brow.

“There are some things I can’t say to you General” he spoke sadly, and the combination of his words with that tone made your heart ache.

“You can tell me anything, you know that” you replied, your voice more desperate than you had intended.

Fives just shook his head slowly, continuing to look at you with some form of anguish swimming in his amber eyes.

“Fives, talk to me. What is it?” you urged, standing up so that you were almost chest to chest with him.

“I want to tell you… everything” he paused, stepping away from you so your hand fell from his wrist, “but I can’t”

You shifted closer to him again, “why not?”

“It’s… inappropriate, frowned upon”

You dropped your head to the side, looking at him with a little suspicion, “are you in some kind of trouble?”

“In a way” he chuckled, though it was strained.

“Fives” you said his voice in a serious tone, akin to one you might use when commanding your men, “what is this about?”

He blew out a long breath, his eyes focused on anything but yours, “it’s… you”

“Me?” your eyebrows raised, “what about me?”

“Everything about you” he said softly in a wistful sigh.

“I don’t understand. Have I upset you?” you asked, trying to catch his gaze.

“No, no. You couldn’t”

You hesitated for a moment, then gently took his hands in yours, earning a sharp intake of breath, “please help me to understand”

“I—” his breath stuttered as he tried to find the right words to use, “you make me feel things that I’m not supposed to, General”

Your eyes widened slightly, your own breath quickening as his words sunk in.

“It’s hard not to. You…” he continued, tightening his grip on your hands and bringing them to his chest, “You're the epitome of grace, but also strength. You're… soft, gentle, and caring beyond measure, but also tough, fierce and ruthless to a degree I've never seen. You're level-headed, but foolish when it comes to that which you care about, and it's that display of humanity that—” he gulped, his gaze softening at just the idea of it, “it makes my heart ache for you. I know that I’m just a soldier to you but I— I'd give myself to you, over and over, even if every time it ended in tragedy, because there is no life I could live where you’re not a part of it, even if that’s just as my General. I'd do anything you asked, I'd die by your hand if you willed it, but I know that you'd never ask anything like that of me, and that's why I'm… in pain. Because I'd give everything to you, and you'd never take it”

It was hard to believe what you were hearing. You couldn't help the way tears gathered in your waterline at the affectionate words he was saying, observations about you that you had no idea he had been making. You had never realised that he cared so much, so deeply, in the same way that you cared for him. But the one thing that truly stumped you, was that Fives was genuinely convinced that you held no affections for him, that you just saw him in the same way you saw the rest of your men.

“Oh Fives” you spoke no louder than a whisper, releasing your hand from his to trail your fingers along his jaw and gently hold his face. His eyes fluttered shut, and an uneasy breath escaped him as he leaned into your palm with a pained expression. “You're right, I wouldn't ask anything of you”

The hurt was so clear in the depths of his eyes when they opened again. He tried to pull away but your other hand found his face, keeping his gaze locked on you.

“But… that doesn't mean that I don't want to”

His eyes widened at your words, but he stayed silent, as if waiting for you to continue. His gaze flicked to your lips momentarily, but it was clear that he wouldn't let himself indulge in his thoughts, that it had to be on your terms. You didn't know whether you agreed.

You took the lead nonetheless, guiding his head down to touch your forehead to his. Closing your eyes and focusing your energy on where your bodies connected, you reached out through the force. You tried to communicate to Fives all of the feelings that swirled within you, a cacophony of everything good and pure, manifested in a blending of colours and sensations, with a palette only holding the most pleasant colours. Deep blues waged war with vivid reds, a careful dance of remorse and desire, but atop all of it, a sense of calm.

You opened your eyes and met Fives’ gaze, a tenderness woven into the amber hues. That same calm feeling washed over you. You had always felt safe with him, and it went far beyond him being a more than capable soldier.

His mouth hung open fractionally, and you couldn't help but let your eyes wander across his face, taking in every freckle and scar en route to his lips. You tilted your face upwards tentatively, and Fives let out a shuddering breath. You could feel it on your lips, and it took everything within you not to shiver.

“Wait” his voice was quiet, but you heard the word clearly.

You pulled backwards, looking up at him expectantly, and watched his throat bob as he swallowed.

“If you start this, I don’t know that I’ll be able to stop”

You let a small smile lift the corners of your mouth, dropping your head to the side a little, “isn't that kind of the point?”

Fives let out a short exasperated laugh, “I mean it, General. Please… don't give me something without giving me everything, because I can't—”

“Fives” you called firmly, rubbing your thumb across his cheek to gain his full attention, “I need you to hear me, loud and clear”

His expression was still hesitant, but he nodded for you to continue.

“I do not say this lightly. You have made it very hard for me to follow the very ideals I am supposed to uphold from the moment you walked into my life. Though, it is not your fault, it’s mine. I could have made myself scarce, I could have tried to stay away, to let my feelings die out, but instead, I chose to nurture them. It would be easy to say that I don’t know why I did, to pretend it’s all some plot against me, but I do. It’s because…” you took a deep breath, “even though it will undoubtedly end in tragedy, I too cannot see my life without you in it, and I would give myself to you, I will give myself to you, because I am finally being honest with myself. I can finally admit that I care for you more than ideals that I would not chose for myself if my life was any different”

Fives’ eyes widened with each word you spoke, though ended up with a look of guilt plastered on his face.

“General, I can’t allow you abandon your beliefs, not for me. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“No Fives, it’s me that should apologise” you sighed, “I didn’t want to put you in this position, but I will not choose this for you. You have been afforded so little choice in your life, and I will not take away this one when it would have far more severe repercussions for you than for me”

Fives just stared at you with a plain expression, “you would have me? If I wanted that?”

“I want whatever you want”

“I want you” he replied breathlessly, bringing his forehead down to yours once more.

You smiled, “then you have me”

Fives immediately brought his lips to yours, all the hurriedness of the action melting away as he got his first taste of you. His mouth was heavy against yours, reaching inside you and stealing all of the breath from your lungs in a slow rhythm.

The way his lips tangled with yours was sending your mind into overdrive, though his hands remained firmly planted at his sides. Your own hands were on him; on his chest, in his hair, pulling him closer, and it was as if his brain was short circuiting. As if he'd spent so long trying not to touch you that he didn't even know what to do with himself.

“Fives” you mumbled against his lips, “you can touch me”

He breathed out heavily as he pulled away momentarily, “are you sure? I-”

“Please” you said desperately

Without need to be told again, he was groaning into your mouth, pulling you closer by your waist, fingers gripping onto your hips tightly and bringing you into his lap as he fell back on the cot. His hands began to map your body, covering every inch of skin he could find. For all that it felt like he had been restraining himself from touching you before, it seemed that now that he had got his hands on you, he wasn’t going to let go.

“I can’t believe this is happening” He breathed out as your lips travelled along his jaw.

You smirked at his aporetic tone, “And why's that?”

“I just didn't think—” his breath hitched as you found a sensitive spot behind his ear, “didn’t think you saw me this way”

“Hope you're not still thinking that” you mumbled against his skin.

“It's a little hard when you're—” you rolled your hips forwards, earning an uneasy groan from the man whose lap you were on, “—doing that”

“A little hard, huh?” you teased.

“General…” he growled in your ear and your lips curled into a satisfied smirk.

“What?” you spoke into his ear, in a voice as sweet and innocent as you could muster.

“You're playing a dangerous game”

“Am I?” You tangled your fingers in his hair, lightly pulling down as you found that spot behind his ear once more.

He let out a breathy groan, “fuck. General, you can’t—”

“Can’t what?” you interrupted, repeating the action.

“Alright, that’s it”

His hands gripped your hips tightly as he flipped the two of you over. He pressed his body into yours, taking your hands in his and intertwining your fingers as he pinned them to the cot. His kisses became even more heated, lips devouring yours and resting his weight into you. The intensity drew a small moan from the back of your throat, and Fives seized the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, drawing him even closer.

“Fuck” he hissed, “have you done this before?”

”Kind of”

He laughed, a breath huffed onto your lips, “kind of?”

“I might have—” your breath stuttered, his lips on your neck stopping your words, “—fooled around with someone a bit, before I took my vows”

Fives tutted, and you could feel him smirking against your skin as he dragged his lips across your pulse point, “and I thought you were a good jedi”

“Looks like any hopes of that have been lost now” you replied breathlessly, your head dropping against the mattress to allow him better access.

Fives chuckled, his thumbs rubbing circles against your palms, “looks that way”

His voice rumbled through your body, the reverberations sending waves of heat through your limbs. Your hand broke free from his hold as he danced his fingers across your thigh, and you took the opportunity to slide it underneath his blacks, feeling the warmth of his skin.

As if your actions were a command, Fives pulled away from you, just long enough to reach for his neck and slip off his top, never once taking his eyes from you. You ran your hands along his bare abdomen as he sat back, and he watched you take in his exposed form.

You were met by tanned skin, marked by the horrors of war; scars that wouldn't heal and surely cut deeper than the flesh. You outlined the more prominent marks with your first finger, before resting your hand against his chest, your gaze lifting to his face once more.

“Stars, Fives. You’re gorgeous”

He smirked a little, tracing his fingers over your waist, “nothing compared to you”

“I mean it, I— Maker, I’ve wanted you for so long”

You could see the way his eyes lit up at the comment, and he gripped onto your hip once more, “That’s high praise indeed, coming from you”

You rolled your eyes playfully, “Just let me compliment you”

His smirk dissolved into a beaming grin as he trapped your head between his forearms. “No” he said simply, and any protests died on your lips as he captured them between his own.

Kissing Fives, being intimate with him in this way, just felt right. It felt as if it had always been this way, as if it wasn't something new. The way he touched you like he knew your body like the back of his hand, the way his force signature melded with yours as if they were one, it all felt so familiar.

When he slid his hands under your vest, and you peeled it from your body, somewhere in your mind you thought you should be nervous. No one else had ever seen you so exposed, but Fives’ adoring gaze, the way he was drinking in your body, his featherlight touches as he ran his fingers up your sides, you couldn't help but feel safe.

“You’re so beautiful”

He said it like it was a sinful confession, his words dripping with such devotional adoration that you couldn't help the blush that arose across your cheeks. He kissed down the valley of your breasts, mumbling fragments of acclamatory phrases as if he didn't have the breath to finish them. Your blood heated at his words. It sounded as if he were drunk, whispering secrets he wouldn't otherwise confess to.

“So pretty for me” you heard him say against your skin, and it drew a forceful shudder from you.

His hands were all over you as he continued to kiss down your body. Kneading your hips, caressing your breasts, stroking along your thighs. Every touch sent desire coursing through your veins. He knelt at your feet as he met the edge of the bed, pulling you towards him.

“General, can I—”

“Are you seriously calling me that right now?” you looked down at him in disbelief. He was in between your legs, asking to take down your nightwear and still calling you by your rank.

He let out a short self deprecating laugh.

“What would you like me to call you?” he asked, playing with the hem of your sleep shorts.

“I do have a name, you know” you informed him.

“I do know that” he chuckled with a fond smile, hooking his fingers into the waistband of your shorts, “is that what you’d prefer?”

You raised an eyebrow at him, coming to rest on your elbows, “you have another idea?”

“I have a few” he smirked, beginning to slowly pull down your shorts. “Beautiful, gorgeous, pretty…” he trailed off as he helped you detangle your legs from the nightwear.

You were now laid out completely bare to him and he had to take a deep breath, letting out a low whistle before he could start talking again.

“Then there’s always darling” he continued, pressing a kiss to your knee, his eyes finding yours again. “Sweetheart” he trailed kisses up your inner thigh and your breath became increasingly short, “or even… mesh'la, cyar'ika”

He placed his final kiss at the very top of your thighs, right beside where you ached for him the most, and the feeling of his hot breath against your core made your head drop back and your eyes flutter shut.

“Kriff, I don’t care. Call me whatever you want” you heard yourself say.

Fives’ eyes darkened as he softly chuckled, “Alright jetii'ika, be a good girl and lay back for me”

You obliged with a heavied sigh, and Fives’ grin only widened. Without much warning, his tongue found its place at the apex of your thighs, and all processing in your brain cut out.

The sound, let alone the sensation of him lapping at you was enough to twist your stomach with pleasure. His tongue worked with expert precision, the same precision you saw from his work on the battlefield, and suddenly you no longer scolded yourself for getting turned on by how good of a soldier he was.

He gripped your thighs as he brought you closer to him, his mouth consuming you and taking every ounce of pleasure with it. It was as if pulling this pleasure from you was second nature, as if it were his true duty to you. He was no longer a soldier of the GAR, he was the lone trooper in the invasion of your psyche, and he knew every trick to wind his way in.

You couldn't help the lewd sounds you were making. You had envisioned this situation far too often, but anything that Fives did was far exceeding your expectations. With every stroke of his tongue, every light graze of his teeth against your sensitive bundle of nerves, you drew closer to the edge, your insides constricting in pleasure and red hot desire.

Between swift motions of his tongue and lips, Fives let out his own pleasured noises, deep groans that reverberated against you and only sent you tumbling further towards release. He spoke honeyed words of praise against you, telling you how much he'd wanted this, how long he'd waited to taste you.

White hot bliss ran through your veins as Fives worked you through your high, taking every last drop of what you gave him. His large hands gripped your thighs and forced them open, not relenting until you had come down from the intensity of your release.

Your chest heaved as he pulled away, coming to rest his weight against your side. Your mouth hung open to collect your breath as he took your face in his hand, running his thumb along your cheekbone with the most adoring look plastered on his face.

“You okay?” he asked softly.

“Yeah” you breathed out, a little chuckle following, “great”

He grinned, obviously proud of his handiwork, “you reckon you can give me another?”

Your eyes widened a little as your mouth curled into its own grin, and he pressed his body into yours, making you have to bite down on your bottom lip to supress a moan quite unsuccessfully.

“Can I take that as a yes?” he smirked at your reaction.

A laugh escaped you, “you can”

He was then kissing you again, this time more unhurried, and you could taste yourself on his tongue. The intimacy of it made your head spin, which was only intensified when he lifted himself from you and removed his remaining pieces of clothing.

Watching him kneel between your legs in all his glory, even before he entered you, you thought that you could probably die happy now. There was no better feeling than that which you felt around Fives, and now, with his bare skin on yours, limbs slotting and tangling together, you felt complete.

Your bodies melded together, becoming one, and all you could see and feel was him, as if he was all that existed in the cruel galaxy you both inhabited. His eyes pierced yours as his face hovered above you, watching how he affected you. You placed your hand on his face, drawing his forehead to yours once more, and he turned his head to place a sweet kiss against your palm, even in the intense passion of the moment.

There was something so deeply arousing about how you were usually the one in control of everything, a legion of troopers at your command, but here, right now, Fives was the one in control of you. It was a welcome reprieve, but you wouldn't take it from anyone else. That much was obvious to Fives, the way you were writhing beneath him told him so.

With every action he took, he made time to worship every inch of your body, kissing your skin with a such a reverence that you had never received from anyone else in such a way. By the time your second release was washing over you, you were begging for him to follow you over the edge, and him being a obedient trooper, doing anything for his General, he accommodated your unholy pleas.

You remained joined as you both caught your breath once more, basking in the sweet ecstasy of your mutual fulfilment. You had never felt such euphoria.

Fives gulped at he looked into your eyes, a reservation about him.

“What is it?” you prompted, taking his face if your hands.

He sighed, a delighted sound that made your heart sing, “what happens now?”

You didn't necessarily want to think about it. All of the problems that you had described to Fives would still stand when your left the comfort of his embrace, but equally, something felt as if it had shifted. Fives was yours, and you were his. That was significant to you, and something about it made you feel invincible in that moment.

“I don't know” you admitted, wishing you could give a better answer, “but I'm not letting you out of my sights now, that’s for sure”

He grinned down at you as he tightened his hold, “You stole my line”

You laughed blithely, your head thrown back on the mattress as you revelled in the feeling of him against you for a long as you could.

“Well, I'm glad you feel the same” you conceded, your voice portraying a teasing edge, though your amiable smile gave away the sincerity of the comment.

“Oh jetii'ika, I don't even have the words to describe how I truly feel” he spoke earnestly, an affectionate smile lifting his lips as he brushed some hair away from your forehead and planted a kiss on the unveiled skin.

taglist: @darthnihila @cdblake1565

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mahowaga · 2 months ago

Text

THE TRIWIZARD TOURNAMENT FOR THE BEAU IDÉAL OF IDIOCY | N.K. — TASK #1

SUMMARY: you're supposed to be in the stands, eating snacks and talking strategy with your friends, enjoying watching the three champions battle for the triwizard cup. you're not supposed to be entangled in what seems to be your own personal (hell) triwizard tournament.

PAIRING: ravenclaw!nanami kento x hufflepuff!fem!reader | mc’s best friend yu haibara CONTAINS: hp x jjk au, (friends who are) idiots to lovers, romance, fluff, crack, profanity PLAYLIST: the course of true love never did run smooth WC: 4.1k WARNINGS: none, just reader fumbling, but it somehow works idk

series masterlist | previous | next

— TASK #1: HOW TO LEARN TO DANCE WHILE MAINTAINING THE FACADE THAT YOU CAN

Let’s have a rundown: there’s the Toji incident, the Forbidden Step incident, and then Sukuna basically telling you to go with the flow and stop being over the top with everything.

If you are ever able to get your hands on some kind of memory erasing spell, you already know what you’re removing from your brain.

Unfortunately for you, you don’t have access to such magic, so you have to make do with the options at your disposal: dealing with your problems head on. (Disgusting. Yuck. 0/10.)

Alchemy is an elective you selected during your sixth year at Hogwarts. You’re lucky enough to be able to take it, since the school only holds the class if there are enough students who want to study it. Currently, the class has a total of ten students, but you’ll take what you can get. It’s one of the few subjects that actually interest you, being something of a composite subject of three other core classes. Plus, you sometimes get to blow things up, which is a win in your book.

Due to the limited number of students, the class is held with everyone regardless of their house.

It’s mostly Ravenclaws, a couple of Slytherins and then you from Hufflepuff. No Gryffindors, sadly. (You don’t know why you instantly think of Utahime from Gryffindor and wonder why she doesn’t take Alchemy. Actually, you know exactly why you think of her - it’s because Kento is in the same class with you and your brain, for some reason that eludes you yet again, has somehow decided that he is as close as ever to Utahime and therefore they must be taking all of their classes together. Flawed logic is a pain.)

Yeah, that’s right. Nanami Kento takes Alchemy with you. (With you is an overstatement. He’s never noticed you in class before and he most definitely won’t start now. The Yule Ball is no excuse for him to lose focus.)

To be completely honest, you expect it to be way more awkward when returning to classes after the Toji incident, but the buzz and excitement that comes with the Yule Ball is enough to overpower that of your humiliation. (Thank you, Yule Ball, even though it’s the reason you almost landed a couple of hits on Toji’s pristine face.)

The only person whose opinion you really care about right now is Kento. There’s no way he hasn’t forgotten about everything that happened, and now even more so because he’s your date to the Ball.

The whole thing makes your head ache. This boy had basically turned himself into your date without you asking, blaming that cursed tie as the reason why.

Having class with him is going to be the worst thing that has ever happened to you, which is saying something, considering your recent string of misfortunes.

You walk into the classroom with your textbooks in your hands, braced against your chest. You’re slightly out of breath, having gotten lost deep in the dungeons before you’d found your way to the room.

There’s an unclaimed spot in the corner that you make a beeline for. It’s a bench for two, but no one ever sits next to you unless they’re late to class and it’s the only seat they have access to, so you place your textbooks on the empty seat and sit down.

The pair of Slytherins behind you are talking about the professor. You hate to admit it, but you eavesdrop, and it turns out they’re saying something about the professor not being able to make it to the class today - allegedly.

“Is that true?” you ask, turning around in your seat.

One of them, a girl with blonde hair whose name escapes you, nods. “I heard it from one of the prefects earlier.” She shrugs. “He might still make it, though, you know how he is.”

Yes, you do. Your Alchemy professor would show up to class even if he’d just lost an arm and a leg. (Anything for that paycheck, right?)

You turn back around and scan the room. Most of the students are already there, seated and talking to each other about the Triwizard Tournament and the Yule Ball. None of them seem to care about you being rejected by Toji in public, and you exhale with relief. At least you have this, some semblance of peace.

There’s fifteen minutes before the class starts. Everyone’s there except for Kento. You assume he’s out doing Head Boy things. Handling some aspects of the Yule Ball and the second task has to be a lot of responsibility on his shoulders. His and Utahime’s and the other prefects’.

He’s never late, though, and when there’s ten minutes left, he walks in, looking as prim and proper as always, his textbooks hanging at his side. He surveys the room, searching for a seat.

You avert your eyes, opening one of your hefty books and pretending to read. You’re not worried about him sitting next to you, he never does, but rather making eye contact with him. You’re just not mentally prepared for that just yet. You also don’t know how to break it to him that you don’t know how to dance. You’re going to end up doing an awful shuffle at the Ball and he’s going to stand to the side pinching the bridge of his nose.

Oh, right. You need to find someone to teach you how to dance. You don’t dare to ask Haibara, because knowing him, he’ll probably rope Kento into it. You can’t exactly ask Sukuna, either.

You’re just going to have to do this on your own - a solo endeavor. (You’re also going to have to lie to Kento, which will prove to be a feat of its own seeing how well he can see through you. That’s a problem for you in the future.)

There’s a shuffle of feet and when you look up, Kento’s picking up your textbook from the seat next to you and placing it on the table.

What’s going on?

He’s doing it like it’s a normal thing, like this isn’t completely out of left field. He’s focused on placing his books on the table and doesn’t look at you until he’s comfortable in his spot.

Your elbows are brushing. You pull your hands down to your lap, the back of your neck prickling with heat.

He turns to you after fussing about his textbooks and quill and ink. “Good morning.”

It’s like your tongue is tied. Your linguistic skills are failing you exponentially.

No. You refuse to embarrass yourself in front of him for the umpteenth time. You don’t want him thinking his date to the Ball is a total clown who specializes in buffoonery.

“Good morning,” you say, and your voice shakes a bit with the effort. You hope he doesn’t notice, but the corner of his lip quirks up ever so slightly and you’re gone. You’re done for.

Usually, this would be the end of your conversation with him. That’s how you have been speaking to him for the past year, ever since Haibara had introduced you to each other. Just a simple greeting and then you both draw the line. A thick line.

The staircase had been a situation that had the both of you playing jump rope with said line. It was nerve-wracking and exhilarating at the same time, with a splash of stress (what if you say something idiotic and he just stares at you?). A part of you, the masochist, likes the stress that comes with conquering the unknown. The logical part of you hates it and wants to stay in your little bubble of comfort.

It’s silent for a while, the hum of the rest of the class taking up the space that has grown between the two of you.

You let your mind run wild. You want to dwell on the fact that he’s willingly sitting next to you despite having never done so before, but right now your focus is elsewhere: your number one enemy. Dancing.

You just don’t want to bring him any shame. He’s your date for reasons that are beyond you, but it’s clearly a choice he’s made, and you’d hate to ruin everything by being inept.

Maybe you should ask him for help.

No. That’s an intrusive thought. It’s a really bad idea. (Obviously.)

You shoot him a glance. He’s looking down at his textbook, reading through today’s chapter before the professor comes in - if he’s even showing up today. A few strands of his light hair escape his neat part and fall over his forehead. He doesn’t seem to notice, but you do, because he looks so effortlessly amazing. Sometimes you wonder why it always seems like there’s someone in the background holding a bright light over him to make him look even more ethereal.

(It’s probably your own delusions painting him to be some kind of angel with light shining down upon him every hour of every day. That’s what he looks like through your eyes, but then again, you’re totally biased.)

You look away before he notices you staring.

Back to the problem at hand - finding someone to help you get better at dancing. The obvious answer is Kento, right? He’s your partner (watch yourself), you mean, date, and you’re going to be the one dancing with him so logically you need to know how he moves to be able to co-ordinate yourself.

You make up your mind. You’re going to ask him.

You take a deep breath and brace yourself. You’re going to ask him.

Another glance at him. You hate to disturb him while he’s clearly studying during the only free time he has, but this is important (it’s not that serious).

You’re going to ask him.

You’re going to-

He turns to you, catching your gaze like a deer in headlights. “Do you think we should practice the waltz?”

Shit.

“What? No,” you say quickly. (You wish the gallows were a thing again because that’s where you want to be right now.)

You chide yourself for lying, but you couldn’t do it. You had to save your dignity.

He nods. “You’re right,” he says, almost sheepishly. “You probably don’t need to practice.”

You try to search for any jabs in his words, but it seems like he’s being sincere, which makes you feel even worse, because now you’re wondering if he asked because he wanted to practice himself.

You can make it right. (By lying. Great idea. Kids, lying is bad.)

“Um, actually,” you start, clearing your throat to get his attention back, since he’d turned to his book again, “you’re right, I think we should practice. I haven’t, um, done a waltz in a while, so I’m a bit rusty.”

He smiles. “Sounds like a good idea.” Then he adds, “I have no idea how to dance, so you can teach me.”

Your face drops.

Well, now you’re both screwed.

One of the defining traits of a Hufflepuff is honesty. Up until the Great Hall incident, you’d thought you were a model Hufflepuff student. Now, you can barely keep up with all the white lies (lying about being able to dance is not a white lie) you’ve told. Helga Hufflepuff would have you booted from the house in the blink of an eye. You have to start being honest. Dishonesty is not a good look for you or your house.

You need to start telling him the truth before everything blows up in your face.

You and Kento agree to meet at the music classroom on the fifth floor to practice dancing. Being Head Boy means he gets to bend some of the rules, and one of them is being able to wander around late at night.

So it’s settled, the music classroom at midnight, where he will see that you are way out of your depth and drowning in deceit.

(This is like the blind leading the blind.)

You get to the classroom, a fairly large room with stone walls and stone floors, music stands and stools, a drum kit and a piano in the corner of the room. There’s a conductor’s stand in the center of the room, and everything else curves around it as if it is the center of the universe.

“Okay,” you mutter, setting down the boombox you’d brought along on one of the stools. You wring your hands together nervously, thinking about how you’re going to approach this. You’ve made up your mind (we all know how that worked out for you last time) to tell him the truth. If he ends up hating you, it’s instant curtains for you. You’re done.

A part of you wonders why you didn’t just tell him you can’t dance earlier, but adrenaline can be similar to alcohol, in that it is liquid courage and you just felt like you could live a lie. You’re still hoping you have some splendid dance skills inside of you, just waiting to be unleashed.

Kento seems to be running late. Great, it’s a headstart for you. If you can get a few steps down then maybe you won’t look so hopeless in front of him.

You pull out the book you’d borrowed from the library: Dancing for Dummies: Expanded Edition. It was a choice between this one and the standard Dancing for Dummies. You think the expanded version is going to be of more help to you.

Before you can open the book to page one, the door opens and Kento walks in, looking a bit worse for wear.

He flashes you a shy smile as he removes his robes and drapes it over a stool. He dusts his hands and walks over to you.

For a moment you simply stare at him. The lighting in the room is scarce, not a single candle or bulb in sight, the only source being the moonlight bleeding through the glass panes of the windows. The light scatters across the uneven stone floors. The beams of drowsy pale light settle on his face. He’s got dark circles under his eyes, his lips slightly parted from exhaustion, and his hair has had a disagreement with him and now some of the strands have fallen onto his forehead. He doesn’t seem to care, though.

He loosens his blue and silver tie and rolls up his sleeves, all the while maintaining eye contact with you. It’s as if he knows you can barely look away when he catches your gaze and uses it to his advantage.

“Are you ready?” he asks, holding his hands out for you to take.

Your stomach begins to protest, and not because of dinner. Now’s your chance to tell him the truth.

Tell him.

You take a deep breath and hold up the book. This is going to be a very, very horrifying experience; getting to see that smile on his face wiped off instantly, replaced with a hardened glare while he says something like, Do you think I’m a joke?

Oh, the very thought sends a shiver down your spine. You wish you were a hermit crab, then you could crawl into your little shell and run away. But you’re dedicated to the cause. You can’t disgrace your house, nor can you continue lying to someone you really care about (did you hear something?). You’ve read enough books to know what happens when fictitious statements keep piling up until it detonates like a nuclear bomb.

(As embarrassing as it’ll be to tell him the truth, you kind of don’t want a literal bomb on your hands.)

You purse your lips. How should you go about it? It doesn’t help that he’s waiting for your response patiently, despite his very obvious exhaustion.

Okay. Here goes your pride.

“Kento,” you start, lowering the book and scratching the back of your neck, avoiding eye contact, “I don’t actually know how to dance.”

You force yourself to face him. You should at least have the decency to look him in his eyes while you deconstruct the very image of yourself you’ve created just for him.

At first, it seems like he doesn’t hear you. Then it seems like he’s processing your words slower than usual, almost like his RAM is overloaded with whatever else he’s got going on in his pretty head. (What?) Then, after what seems like centuries, he reacts.

He raises both his brows (here it comes) and tilts his head to a side, his arms dropping to his sides. It almost looks like he’s giving you the thousand-yard stare. You hope that isn’t the case.

You twist your hands together, biting your lip. You’re waiting for him to say something, anything - you just need to know how he feels.

Finally he lets out a small bark of laughter. Your eyes widen. He’s laughing. You’ve just told him you lied to his face and he’s laughing. (Do you have a crush on some sort of psychopath?)

“Are you serious?” he asks, trying to stifle his laughter. He shakes his head as he puts his hands on his hips. He’s hitting you with the disappointed dad stance, and yet it’s as if he’s amused by the whole thing.

Your inability to tell what’s going through his head is going to give you palpitations. It’s not looking too good for your cardiac health right now.

You nod slowly. “I’m being serious.”

This just seems to make him smile even wider. He runs a hand down his face, his little chuckles muffled. His shoulders are shaking now.

You’ve broken him. That’s it. You’ve shattered Nanami Kento, Head Boy of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, into smithereens. Oh, there’ll be hell to pay for sure.

“Why?” He tries to sober up, though his lips are still curled up. He’s stopped laughing, though it seems like he’s fighting himself to not let it out. You find it endearing and you want to say something but you bite your tongue, because this is neither the time nor the place. He leans forward. “Why didn’t you just tell me?”

Well, well, well. If it isn’t the consequences of your own actions.

You swallow hard. There’s a plethora of reasons, a whole library of them, actually, and if you had more time you’d take a leisurely stroll down the aisle of the library until you found a book that explained everything to a T. But you don’t have the luxury of time.

“I just didn’t want you to think any less of me than you already probably do.” You focus on the unevenly cut stones embedded into the floor, tracing the grout with the toe of your shoe. Looking into his inquisitive eyes is a no-no right now.

His reply is soft, like comfort wrapped in a whisper. “I actually think very highly of you.”

You look up slowly, and you almost gasp at how close he’s come. Once again, you are both inches away from each other, except this time you’re not buried inside of a step’s organs and have the option of stepping back to create distance.

You don’t. (Bold.)

“You don’t have to say that.” You hold his gaze for once in your life, feeling a rush of power as you do it, but he isn’t one to back down.

He arches his brow, and now he’s closer than ever - less than ten inches, no doubt. His eyes flick down to your lips and then back to your eyes and you hate the way it makes your body react viscerally. You feel as if someone’s shot you with a taser, the way your every nerve ending is alight with attraction and tension.

He nods once. “I know,” he says, his voice low, “but it’s the truth.”

(Is it hot in here? It’s hot in here. You need a fan.)

You shake your head quickly, putting a hand on his chest to put some distance between the both of you. You can’t think straight - whatever he’s doing, it’s messing with your head. It’s tearing apart the equilibrium you’ve tried so hard to maintain: you admiring from afar, him being, well, him and going about his life. This? This isn't a part of your plan. None of this is.

“What are you doing?”

“Hm?” He glances down at your hand on his chest and his hand twitches at his side. You pretend not to see it.

You gesture between the two of you frantically. “What is this?”

Answers. You need answers and you need them now.

“Us?” he asks innocently.

You scoff. “There’s no us.”

He presses his lips into a thin line. “Why not?”

He’s really going to make you spell it out. Fine. “Because- because you’re out of my league.”

It feels good to get it out, but it also feels weird to admit it aloud. It’s always been something you’ve known deep down and never thought you’d ever need to say it to anyone, let alone him.

He knits his brows together, leaning back. “Who told you that?”

Is he being for real right now?

“I have eyes.” You widen your eyes as if to emphasise your statement.

He looks away quickly, then meets your eyes again. It’s as if a fire has been lit inside of those hazel eyes of his, the way they burn into yours like a brand.

He runs a hand through his hair, his other hand braced on his hip. “I’m just the Head Boy,” he says, spreading his hands. “That has nothing to do with me wanting to be with y-” He stops and coughs, his eyes wide for a millisecond, a sliver of fear flashing through the fire. “It has nothing to do with me wanting to be your date.”

Your mouth is wide open. “Just the Head Boy?” You throw your hand up. “You must be out of your mind.” And he is, you’re convinced he is. He’s doing all of this to be your date to the Yule Ball. He’s way too dedicated.

He exhales sharply and crosses his arms tightly. The tension between the two of you is beginning to tighten. Soon enough, if one of you cut it, it would snap with a loud twang and send the both of you flying right out of the window.

“Says the captain of the Hufflepuff Quidditch team,” he murmurs under his breath, looking away. His jaw is tight.

You swear your eyes would bulge out if they could. This boy isn’t making any sense. He really isn’t. “What does that have to do anything?”

Satisfaction crosses his handsome features. He looks smug. “What does being Head Boy have to do with anything?” he counters.

(Oh, he’s got you. You’ve been gagged for the millionth time. You can never catch him lacking.)

“You’re a real piece of work, just so you know.” Your lips curl into a pout as you cross your arms and turn away from him.

He seems to find this sweet, because when he reaches for your shoulder and turns you back toward himself he’s smiling, his eyes sparkling again, the fire dimmed down to ashes and soot. (It’s like he goes through emotions in the blink of an eye, and you’re having a hard time keeping up. Mentally, you’re still on the part where he says he’s just the Head Boy.)

“I’m well aware,” he says, tilting your chin up. Your skin tingles from the contact, and you can’t move, petrified into place (no Basilisk needed) by his courage to make a move.

Wait. Is he making a move? Your guts threaten to melt into a puddle. This is too much for you to handle, but you have to press on - if you don’t, you know you’ll regret it tomorrow morning.

He pulls back, and reaches for the book in your hands. He scoffs at the title but opens it nevertheless. He’s so nonchalant, acting as if he hasn’t just raised both your blood pressure and your heartbeat in the span of five minutes. (You don’t know if you should be elated or not - this is your crush, making moves on you, and you’re acting as if Medusa’s just turned you into stone, perpetually frozen, unable to process anything that’s happening despite having dreamt about this happening since the day you’d first laid eyes on him.)

Maybe you just need to sleep on it.

He pulls you out of your stupor by holding a hand out. “Shall we start practicing together?”

You gulp, looking from his hand to his face, brightened by the moonlight, his hair turned white, glowing like a halo. Finally, you take his hand, and he pulls you close. You hold your breath at the proximity, of being pressed against his chest, of his fingers laced with yours. He’s cradling the book in the crook of his other arm, reading it out aloud as you find your footing.

You raise your head to look at him. He’s already peering down at you, a look of endearment meant just for you.

Hm. Dancing mightn’t be so bad if it’s with him.

A/N: thank you for tuning in! i hope you enjoyed this chapter, because there's more to come! (art by elitamasan on X)

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fake-married-my-dead-fiance · 1 year ago

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I started watching Kdramas this year and I do a lot of literature analysis in my normal life, so I found it really fun to find the tropes that were unique to this genre/culture that were different than what I find in Hollywood TV/movies and novels. I started with Alchemy of Souls and I was kind of amused looking back, because I never thought the SML had a chance with the FL but if I had known how strong the "they met as children and therefore DESTINY" trope is, I probably would have thought they would get together for sure!

Here are some of the unique tropes I've noticed:

-Leads meet as children and therefore DESTINY (What's Wrong with Secretary Kim, 100 Days My Prince, It's Okay to Not be Okay, Castaway Diva, The King's Affection, Sh**ting Stars, Destined with You, subverted in Alchemy of Souls)

-Reincarnation, which happens a ton but of course for the same reason Western media is littered with Chosen One/Saviour plots (played with in Alchemy of Souls and Extraordinary You, straight in Destined with You, Tale of the Nine Tailed, Moon in the Day, My Demon, The Story of Park's Marriage Contract... so many)

-Guy (usually) buys the girl shoes and then puts them on her. They also usually make a joke about her running away. (Tale of the Nine Tailed, 100 Days My Prince, Extraordinary You, Castaway Diva, King the Land, subverted in The King's Affection and The Forbidden Marriage)

-Guy (usually) gives/brings the girl an umbrella to protect her from the rain. I LOVE THIS TROPE, symbolism for protection and shelter gets me (straight in My Lovely Liar, King the Land, Tale of the Nine Tailed, Extraordinary Attorney Woo, subverted/played with in Alchemy of Souls, Business Proposal, Doom at Your Service, Castaway Diva)

-Not sure if this would count as a trope, but unique to the genre because we don't have formal speech in English and especially not in Canada where I live (we've basically started just going first name with everyone) I love it so much when the main characters use informal terms with each other for the first time. The subtitles don't always translate this well, but I know what the honorifics sound like and I'm all, "She didn't use "Mr." that time it's serious now!!!"

Anyway, are there more? I'm probably not catching them all!

Edit: Definitely some sort of trope around characters finding wild ginseng to solve a problem.

(I've only been watching Korean dramas by the way, I'm sure some of these tropes are shared by other dramas from China and Thailand. I just found the comparison with English language TV interesting.)

#kdramas #tropes #alchemy of souls #my demon #castaway diva #my lovely liar #king the land #tale of the nine tailed #doom at your service #what's wrong with secretary kim #100 days my prince #extraordinary attorney woo

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hitlikehammers · 3 months ago

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Early November, 1984 and all Eddie wanted was to light up behind the Byers' place in peace🚬

he went all that way and all he got for it was a maybe-dead💀-but-definitely-unconscious-king👑-slash-maybe-babysitter(?), plus some shithead children directing his van🚐 to those fucking abandoned labs that may as well be lit up in neon lights screaming 🚨THIS IS A FUCKING TRAP🚨

Eddie shouldn’t be here. Like, not in a it’s forbidden kinda way, but more in a, there’s no real reason for him to fucking be here.

Save for the obvious.

It’s just…after the whole dead-not-dead thing with the youngest kiddo, the property around the Byers house has kinda turned into no-man’s-land; easy place to get high when Eddie wants a change of scenery, basically, with no one trying to break his nose, or call the pigs.

Or snatch his supply.

But when he hears that fuckface Hargrove call out, the tone on him—and Eddie’s real sensitive to tones, he can guess between the lines for everything he can’t read—he perks up; listens in. Stays put out of sight.

(And no, he does not cream his pants when Harrington calls back, Jesus; taunts like the cocky prick that he is—

And no it is not a close thing or…whatever.)

Point being: he hears more than sees what happens. Up to and including a gaggle of literal fucking children dragging Harrington toward wha Eddie thinks is Hargrove’s eyesore of a car, one of the sheepies crossing around like they’re planning on driving it, and Eddie’s not one for the rule of law or anything—definitely not if it’s Hargrove’s property that’s on the line—and fuck yes Eddie’s driven without a license, and far below the age to get one, but, but—

He’s tripping over himself to turn the keys in his own ignition and swinging the van around quick enough to kick up dirt before he leans over and throws open the passenger door.

“Hey,” he hisses, low but not quiet, he needs them to hear but he doesn’t know if Hargrove’s gonna storm out any second, it’s a delicate balance; “hey, get in,” and he’s crawling over the seat to open the back, too, to push things to the side to mostly leave it flat, tossing blankets to the middle with no care for their cleanliness because there’s no time for that shit, there’s no time and then he’s grabbing the hinges of the doors and flinging his whole top half around to eye this hoard of strange ankle-biters and what’s revealed quickly to be their still-weirdly-attractive-when-beat-to-shit charge in Steve Motherfucking Harrington, trying to project some degree of meaningful trustworthiness, because he is trustworthy, here and now, but they’re kinda in the fucking clock of crazy-eyes-Mc-West-Coast stumbling out of the house, so Eddie’s kinda gotta urge these rugrats with real feeling, waving his hands to the point where his fucking wrists hurt:

��Get in.”

And of course these little urchins still and just, raise a fucking eyebrow at him. Like they’re not working on an inexact sort of fucking timeline—

“Who the fuck are you?”

Yeesh. He wasn’t off when he said they were ankle biters; the little lambies have teeth.

“I just wanna help,” Eddie tries to say it with as much of the genuine concern that he really and truly feels, and not get weighed down with the probably-suspicious-off-the-bat vibe of pulling up in a random van just to start the exchange out with waving some strange kids into the back of it.

Jesus, that sounds terrible, wow, okay.

He gets it.

“No,” oddly, not the ringleader girl who eyed him first but it’s the curly headed boy now who stands up, squares his shoulders, and stares Eddie down with an only-slightly-less-menacing glare. “No, you’re not gonna hurt Steve.”

“I don’t want to hurt him, I swear,” Eddie’s honestly surprised by how unmuddled his tone bleeds put as desperate, versus irritated by this motley crew of munchkins trying to fight him when he is risking his own neck to help them.

And…King Steve, but then: can he be that motionless, hanging awkward from the noodles limbs of a handful of preteens (at most)?

“I just want to get you out of here, somewhere safe,” Eddie bites his lip, wonders where the fuck he intends to go and realizes he was probably just going to drive toward his home and hope for the best; “Er, somewhere safer than here,” and they don’t fucking budge, little assholes, and Harrington doesn’t fucking twitch, and just, just…

Ugh.

“Come on,” he urges them again, just shy of begging; lets how fucking nervous he’s getting seep clear into his tone a little, but he honestly doesn’t think he’d have convinced them to move if not for the crashing of something in the house behind them, and—well.

Nothing like impending doom to speed shit along.

“I wanted to drive,” the redhead’s muttering with a scowl as they heft the body they’re barely keeping off the ground and awkwardly feed Harrington head-first up to Eddie where where he’s crawled properly into the back of the van to help, and Eddie thinks these little fuckers just might be more wild and feral and insane even than he originally would have guessed for how they make to scramble behind their Steve; only just manages to steady and lower the royal body as careful as he can before the hoard clamors in and denies Eddie so much as a moment to press his finger under Steve Harrington’s flop of bloody hair and touch below his jawline where those stupidly infuriating moles of his speckle his skin, marks that Eddie’s hasn’t ever really paid attention to ever, nope, Eddie only needs now to assess whether he’s just accepted a dead fucking body into his van but: no.

Maybe a little sluggish, but pulse’s strong. Which: Eddie doesn’t care about past the legality of it all. Beyond getting saddled with a murder charge or some other bullshit.

No other reason. Of course. Yeah.

The only thing that floors him more than the Hardy Boys-plus-Girl on steroids tearing onto the cushions around where their unconscious charge is laid out, as Eddie shifts into gear and makes to get the fuck out of dodge, like, yesterday, is the even-louder voice in his head that asks probably the most pressing question:

The fuck did the King do, and how, and why, to make these children this loyal?

What follows all that is quite arguably—actually more than that; definitely a strong contender for—the most surprising thing that’s ever happened to Eddie. That could maybe ever possibly happen to Eddie, in any circumstance for any reason within any universal construct or reality. And he’d been really marinating in his Munson Doctrine this year, too, having been forced to reevaluate some shit after the letter arrived to hammer the most disappointing nail in the coffin of Eddie’s first senior year, but then…fuck everything, then there were the stupid little sheepies and their stupid gorgeous goddamn babysitter—which still, still: what the fuck was that, who the fuck even was Steve Harrington?—and Eddie’d barely even put the ink down to dry before all of them banded secretly together and shredded that motherfucking document before it could even properly take root in Eddie’s brain.

All while something else entirely started to take root in his chest, in his hea—

Well. Something. Something that wasn’t even remotely recognizable inside his most recent—and most polished to date, if he does say so himself—draft of the Doctrine like, at all.

Which is the point.

Because Harrington was indeed alive, and did indeed wake up, and clocked Eddie quicker than expected, even by name—Munson? What the fuck?and hell if that hadn’t fluttered between Eddie’s ribs an indefensible amount that no one would ever know about ever, thank you very much, but still: Jesus H. Christ—

But all his own humiliating discombobulation at the not-even-hands-just-voice-and-presence-of-the-golden-boy aside: it’s a damn good fucking thing Harrington wakes up, and is definitely not dead, because Eddie knows where the King lives, and he knows he’s not driving in that direction but had instead been foolish enough to give these shitweasel munchkins the benefit of the doubt here, like that there maybe was a safe house or some shit, fucking sue him, he was a little prepccupied, yeah—by the threat of a chase with that Hargrove fucker and then by the absolutely spectacle of Harrington screeching at the wayward waifs like a harried mother at the stovetop, because fuck, but Eddie nearly crashes them into three ditches and at least five trees for for trying to watch and he can’t even pretend otherwise—but the end result is definitely not a fucking safe house, and these little asshats have directed him in the wholeass wrong direction, if the undeniable fact of the old abandoned labs at the edge of town looming big through his windshield, looking at least slightly less abandoned (as if that’s not goddamn terrifying in and of itself), what the fuck has he literally driven into, is he an accomplice, and to what, and just, just Jesus—

“Hey.”

Eddie is honestly wholly jolted out of his spiral for a lot of reasons, here. The low tenor exhale of a sound in a voice too kind and open and invested, to much like music given what it does to Eddie, what music means to Eddie and what this voice shouldn’t fucking mean too straight out the goddamn gate. The proximity of a body close enough to feel the warmth of each breath. The indefensible feeling of it being nearly erotic out of nowhere and with no justification at all—just the reality of Eddie’s world right now, to feel the barest brush of the side of a body alongside his, leaning forward where he’s still in the driver’s seat. All of that would tip his world at the very least into a different sort of spiral pattern, breathless in a completely other way.

But.

What knocks Eddie hardest and most effectively in one go is the hand on his shoulder, braced to comfort and steady, and the realization in the flesh of how fucking big it is, how the span of that palm, those fingers, because Eddie knew those hands looked big, not that he’d studied them with any real…attention or anything but feeling them was something entirely other, and the touch, the touch is…is—

“Hey,” and Harrington’s breath is close enough then to tickle Eddie’s hair, goddamn: “breathe.”

And where Eddie hadn’t been wholly aware that he wasn’t, y’know, doing the breathing thing so well, either for the absolute insanity of the evening or the ominous spread, all proper D&D-style foreshadowing of nope don’t go there not now not ever waiting where these menaces had directed him to drive; but whatever the reason, where Eddie now takes a gulp of air in now that fucking burns, there’s Harrington, leaning over a little more, a second hand on Eddie chest to steady him as he falls all while he’s fucking squeezing Eddie’s shoulder, only a second before he’s getting ready to jump out of the van like he wasn’t just beaten unconscious like, five fucking minutes ago.

What the actual flying fuck.

If Eddie weren’t a goddamn idiot, he’d put the van in reserve before anyone could get out the back, fuck the way they’ll be thrown against the sides, at least they won’t be walking—willingly—into whatever the fuck’s waiting, all angry red and kinda…pulsating in the distance in a way that may or may not be a trick of his own paranoid mind, and then spewing little glowing motes into the air like lightning bugs.

Which could be charming, if it weren’t way fucking past the season for that shit.

And in fairness, the whole experience of Steve Harrington touching him and leaning close and breathing near him and telling him to breathe? That shit does carry him through—mostly—the hours that will follow, cliche and genuinely fucking embarrassing as it is, as it will be, to acknowledge at all.

But in the now—

“Thanks, man.”

And…oh, well, fuck.

As in point number one: that hand—bothhands—really are distracting as all hell but then also, simultaneously, very much point number two:

What the actual fuck.

“What?”

Apparently sending Eddie-usually-eloquent-enough-to-spin-some-pretty-bullshit-on-demand-Munson reeling outta nowhere is this fucker’s MO. Probably for the best that Eddie’s been writing him off as a pretty airhead for years now—if for nothing more than his own sanity.

Or else, like…relatively speaking.

“You got us here,” Harrington gestures out the window and…yeah.

“Here?”

That’s the relative part. And the insane part to be thanked for. Because where they’ve ended up is definitely the DoE labs that were supposed to have shut down or whatever, after people disappeared and came back and disappeared again and also didn’t and were never gone and fake bodies and whatever.

No one thanks anyone for bringing them to a place like this.

“And it’s more than I could have asked someone to do,” Harrington’s going on like it’s a casual thing, a favor like walking his goddamn dog and not more like what’s actually staring them down inside the fencing, namely the building that doesn’t look as abandoned as advertised by half, and definitely doesn’t at all look like the only thing it’s missing is a big neon sign blinking TRAP! FREE TRAP! IN THE MARKET FOR A QUICK PAINFUL DEMISE AT THE HANDS OF THE WORLD’S SHITTIEST TAINT FACTORY EAST OF ARMPIT-IAPOLIS? STEP RIGHT UP! ALSO REMINDER: CLEARLY A TRAP!

“Harrington,” Eddie doesn’t love the way his voice trips over a bonafide gulp. “Steve.”

He also doesn’t love how much feeling sneaks into that part because one, where the fuck’d that even come from and two, he…

Eddie doesn’t think he’s ever said this guy’s first name out loud. As in…ever.

He doesn’t love how nice it feels, how scary but bubbly-warm it tingles at the base of his throat and the pit of his stomach.

So there’s all of that.

Still set inescapably under the threat of the non-existent-but-no-less-real-neon-sign-of-death and…stuff.

“We know what we’re doing,” Steve’s pats Eddie’s shoulder again, moves the hand from his chest like he’s pulling away, like he’s leaving to go toward the trap and Eddie whips his head around just in time to catch Steve shrug sheepishly and add:

“Like, mostly.”

It is not at all lost on Eddie, how Steve doesn’t even try to sidestep that he’s walking into the gaping maw of probably death, here.

That might be the most terrifying part of this yet.

“I could,” Eddie’s voice is a crackle, so he tries clearing his throat, licking his lips; “I could at least try to help.”

That comes out a little stronger, but not steadier, and he doesn’t really think he’s making his point very well at all.

But then there’s Steve, and his hand back full on Eddie’s shoulder, saying:

“You could,” like he believes that; “and we’d be grateful,” added in like he means that too.

And most unbelievable of all of it, what he tacks on last with a squeeze of his hand and a lower pitch for no reason Eddie can figure save to catch inside the clench of his pulse so it takes to jittering like fucking mad as the King himself exhales:

“I’d be grateful.”

And what the fuck does that mean, said with eyes so bright when the night’s so dark?

And what the fuck does it mean when Eddie’s heartbeat starts jittering, a butterfly between cupped hands, until:

“I need you to be safe though,” and the words have physical form, brush Eddie’s frizzled curls straight behind his ear like…tenderness, delicate.

What. The. Fuck.

Eddie blames the way his heart goes form butterfly to battering ram, ready to crack through his ribs for no reason save a feeling he can’t justify, but’s too real to pretend away as less when he half-fucking-moans:

“What about you?”

Because Steve’s shepherding the kiddos. He’s keeping Eddie on the sidelines, safe. He’s charging into battle with a handkerchief and a bat and a goddamn pair of rubber gloves found from somewhere, sticking out his back pocket like he’s flagging in day-glo, holy hell—

But who takes care of Steve?

“I’ll see you at school,” Steve winks, leans this time to bump one shoulder straight to Eddie’s and then he’s jumping out the back of the van, and he’s moving too fast and—

“Harrington,” Eddie calls, suddenly forgetting he’d ever been trying to keep quiet, to avoid attention of whatever they’re going out to face, Hargrove or harbingers of worker fates, or both at once; “fuck, fuck,” he hissed as he trips over shit that got shifted back in his way as he stumbles to the doors and yells:

“Steve!”

And it’s like maybe saying his name does something to Steve himself, too, because he pauses, and even for the distance, the little curve of his lips isn’t a smirk, it’s a smile.

It’s fucking beautiful.

And then he’s saluting cockily before he turns on his heel with just one last parting shot;

“See you on the other side, Munson.”

And the tunnels beyond only let him watch so long, see so far. The weird shit in the air, and the bandanas he can see a scuffle over, to make sure they’re tied over noses and mouths, lit by weird pulsing colors, obscene squelching noises he can hear the echoes of even this far back and just, just…

Typical eldritch fuckery from a monster manual.

That doesn’t belong in real life.

It’s a fucking trap, Admiral. Good fucking god.

And Jesus H. Christ, but Eddie hadn’t even had the chance to light up tonight as he’d planned, as he’d explicitly driven out to do.

For fuck’s sake.

>>>part two 💚

For @miraculousmultifan, who requested Post-S2; 'Now, I’m not going to deny that I was aware of your beauty. But the point is, this has nothing to do with your beauty. As I got to know you, I began to realise that beauty was the least of your qualities. I became fascinated by your goodness. I was drawn in by it' at my HOBBIT-STYLE BIRTHDAY MONTH PROMPT FEST—very late, obviously, and MID-S2, rather than post but it ENDS UP being post-S2, promise 🖤

✨permanent tag list: OPEN (lmk if you want to be added/removed): @ajeff855 @askitwithflours @awkwardgravity1 @bookworm0690 @bumblebeecuttlefishes @captain--low @depressed-freak13 @dragoon-ze-great @dreamercec @dreamwatch @estrellami-1 @finntheehumaneater @goodolefashionedloverboi @grtwdsmwhr @gunsknivesandplaid @hiei-harringtonmunson @hbyrde36 @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @kimsnooks @live-laugh-love-dietrich @mensch-anthropos-human @nerdyglassescheeseychick @notaqueenakhaleesi @ollyxar @pearynice @perseus-notjackson @pretend-theres-a-name-here @pukner @ravenfrog @sadisticaltarts @samsoble @sanctumdemunson @shrimply-a-menace @slashify @stealthysteveharrington @swimmingbirdrunningrock @theheadlessphilosopher @theintrovertedintrovert @themoonagainstmers @theohohmoment @tillystealeaves @tinyloonyteacups @tinyplanet95 @warlordess @wheneverfeasible @wordynerdygurl @wxrmland @yesdangerpls @yourmom-isgay @1-tehe-1

divider credit here

#steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things s2 #proposal: what if eddie gets involved circa S2: the great harrington v hargrove showdown?#developing relationship #eddie was just trying to smoke behind the byers' house okay?#he explicitly DID NOT sign up for the unconscious king of hawkins high making a getaway in his van with his apparent brood of children!#he DEFINITELY EXPLICITLY DID NOT SIGN UP for the FEELINGS THAT COME LATER #boys and their FEELINGS #(seriously eddie goes about catching feelings like 0-to-60 here)#eddie munson: the most reliable getaway car driver you're ever gonna find #steve harrington: unfairly attractive even when beaten to a pulp and bloody on the floor of a van with his feral ankle biters standing guar #developing to established relationship (just give it some time)#happy ending #stranger things #gift fic #miraculousmultifan #hitlikehammers v words #hitlikehammers writes #hitlikehammers' hobbit-birthday prompt fest

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