#ME WINNING MY PULLS??? how bizarre | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

saerins · 1 year ago

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𝒊𝒏 𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒖𝒂𝒈𝒆

+ nagi seishiro x f!reader | wc 2.4k | content: fluff, high school setting!, some cursing

notes: this was something requested by an anon !! i realised this prompt was also done in my other fic whole except nagi was the second lead :’) also pleaseeeee excuse me if this is ass because i haven’t written in a long time T_T but i’m working on getting back properly !! <3

summary: he didn’t ask you out because he wanted to, yet nagi gets more than he bargained for in the end.

“so, um, nagi, why’d you ask me out all of a sudden?”

it’s kind of an awkward situation to be in, you think, as you look around the arcade, shuffling your feet beside where nagi’s seated, trying to win some tickets from what you can only assume to be a music machine.

when he’d asked you out on a date yesterday, you didn’t think he’d take you to an arcade, of all places. (then again, nagi asking anyone out is sort of unbelievable, honestly.) if you knew sooner (or if nagi had bothered to tell you), you wouldn’t have worn such a nice dress for today.

besides, you’re not even sure why you’d agreed. call your state half-flustered or whatever, because you heard that nagi seishiro of all people does not bother with human relationships much. you’ve only ever seen him interact with mikage reo anyway—and you’d just chalked it up to him wanting it that way. nagi had never shown interest in girls or romance or that kind of shit, so cue your surprise when he asked you out yesterday, when he saw you at the bus stop.

“hey, wanna go on a date tomorrow?”

you blinked at him, utterly surprised because that was the first time that nagi had ever spoken to you.

“um, where to?” (you were still malfunctioning over the fact that he was asking you out on a date.)

nagi scratched the back of his head, and you could faintly make out reo a few ways behind him, watching on.

“hmm, not sure, i’ll text you tomorrow morning?” he suggested, pulling out his phone. “what’s your number?”

okay sure, you could’ve asked for more details, but it was hard getting nagi to respond to you at all. you’re pretty sure he was gaming, that’s why.

“oh, ‘cause reo asked me to.”

that… was not the answer you were expecting. “reo asked you to?”

nagi has a bad habit of not elaborating. you don’t really like that, because you don’t like asking questions, but you can’t help yourself now. this is too bizarre for you to let go.

“yeah, something about how he’s sick of me playing games all day long, told me to go get a date, then he’d return me my switch,” nagi mumbles, and you can’t help but think that reo’s plan may have backfired, considering how he’s on a date and still playing games.

while nagi’s grey eyes are focused on the screen in front of him, you find yourself drawn to the way he’s sucking in his cheek as he concentrates, the way his bangs fall over his eyes and how his fingers can respond so quickly to the lines on the screen.

“you’re pretty good at this,” you tell him, getting lost in how well he’s playing. the points on the screen gets so high he’s almost nearing the high score.

for a moment, nagi’s distracted by how close you are to him; your hair smells like citrus and it’s really smooth. it’s also the only time anyone other than reo has been this close and you’re not anyone so he doesn’t really see why you’re able to steal his focus from the game.

someone like you shouldn’t make him notice things that aren’t about games or himself.

but you do—and he misses the first note since the start of the game, though he recovers fairly easily.

he doesn’t know much about you, only that you’re in his class and you’re very pretty (now that he’s actually looking at you). you have a really cute laugh too, he realises, right when he wins the game and probably what’s a thousand tickets, with you rejoicing happily beside him.

“oh my god, you’re so fucking good at this,” you’re jumping and giggly and nothing like how quiet you are in school and why does he feel a little giddy knowing that he’s getting to see this firsthand? this doesn’t make sense. “okay, move aside, teach me, i wanna do it too.”

nagi obliges. it’s a pain having to teach someone else compared to doing it himself, he gets to know, as you miss probably half the notes on screen even when he tries to tell you how to do it. hell, he’s not really a good teacher.

you win about 300 tickets.

“not bad for a rookie,” nagi comments as you grab your own pile and stack it in your shared basket. the neon red and blue flashes pretty against your skin. it makes you even prettier, he feels.

you raise a brow. “nagi seishiro, wanna play a bet?”

no, not really. but somehow, he can’t quite turn down a game when it’s from you.

“what’re you betting?”

you hold out the basket in front of you. “i’m gonna find a game where i can beat you.” your chest is puffed out, like you’re determined, like you really believe you can. “if i lose, you can decide my punishment.”

nagi blinks at you. you’re… weird. you make his heart beat faster than usual. it’s a little concerning. “and if you win?”

grinning, you wink at him, “let’s leave that to later.”

whatever possessed him to spend the entire day following you around the arcade and watching you fail, he doesn’t know. you’re pretty bad at everything compared to him, but it’s not really fair—he’s probably spent ten times as much of his days in the arcade than you.

have you ever even set foot in here before?

nagi observes as you try desperately to beat him in ddr. you fail, naturally. your feet coordination really isn’t that good, but it’s pretty cute how hard you’re trying. you’re still pretty even at the end of it, even when you’re sweating and some of your hair is matted against your skin. he keeps that to himself though.

throughout the entire day, nagi finds himself entertained by your persistent insistence to beat him at something. it’s funny how you’re awful at the arcade games. it’s also funny how you’re honestly trying. it’s really no use but here you are, sweating once again from shooting hoops.

your 64 versus nagi’s 154.

“wow, you’re really bad at all these games,” nagi murmurs when he sees your score. “wanna go somewhere else?”

you’re quick to open your mouth but it takes you just as quick to shut it, probably knowing you’ll never beat him. at least, not today. “fine, you win,” you say through gritted teeth. you’re a little prideful; nagi’s learning a lot about you. “what do you want?”

nagi seems to have forgotten your earlier bet. he just shrugs and tells you to choose what you want at the exchange counter.

“you don’t want anything?”

nagi looks at the prizes with such disinterest it makes you wonder what can interest a guy like him. he shakes his head, “i can get anything i want anytime anyway.”

(the underlying insinuation that coming to the arcade with him is your only chance to win prizes flies right over your head.)

but when nagi looks at your slightly disappointed face, he tries to backtrack. “i’ll let you know when i think of something i want since i won,” he says, looking away from you. “but you choose one of the prizes today.”

turns out it’s so easy to please you. just like that and that smile is back on your face.

you choose a big goddamn pink teddy bear by the way. nagi sighs as he leaves the arcade with you. it’s probably a character nagi doesn’t know. he’s judging you, but then you hug it and smile at him and he forgets what he’s thinking about.

“i know this was only because reo asked you to, but…” you mumble after you and nagi both finished eating dinner, sitting across from each other at the ramen shop. “it was fun.”

nagi’s not sure what this is. just a customary thing where you’re showing appreciation for the time you two spent together today? you’re looking away from him though, he’s pretty sure normal customs don’t dictate that. he’s pretty sure you’re supposed to look at him when you say that.

“why’re you looking away?”

you look at him in blank shock (an expression that he doesn’t know how to process—what’s so weird about asking you that?) before you smile helplessly. “you’re very weird, nagi seishiro.”

“what do you mean?” nagi’s clueless, in that nagi seishiro way only he can be.

a few seconds of silence pass when you try to make up your mind. it’s unnerving how big and wide his eyes are, especially when they’re focused only on you and nothing else. in the end, you manage with a shake of your head.

“it’s nothing,” you decide. telling him of your possible crush on him would not do any good, you guess.

something bugs nagi; he can’t understand what it is. he just knows something feels off but it’s not like he’s ever felt this particular kind of irk—he doesn’t know what to do.

when the time comes to leave the restaurant, nagi finds himself walking the opposite way to his home because you started walking first.

somehow, his feet follows you.

it’s stupid—walking this far away from the direction of his home is troublesome. it’ll be a hassle to get home when his bus is on the other side of the long gone restaurant. why is he walking you to the train station again when he’ll just see you next week anyway? you’re in the same class.

“oh, are you gonna take the train too?”

nagi blinks at you, drawing a blank at your question. he must’ve completely zoned out. did the both of you get here in complete silence?

“no,” he answers honestly. he doesn’t elaborate. as usual.

by now, that doesn’t surprise you. instead you just nod your head, a hesitance borne in the shuffling of your feet. “well,” you drawl out, dragging the syllable, somehow hoping this wasn’t the end of the night but it is. “this was a nice one-time date,” you settle for, smiling. you’re about to just say goodbye, but you bite on your bottom lip, contemplating, before you slip his phone out of his hand and slide the screen to the side, taking a picture of the both of you together, nagi looking at the screen in surprise and you winking beside him.

when you hand it back to him, you bite your inner mouth, trying not to grin. “in case reo asks for evidence,” you offer as an excuse. you totally didn’t want to take a picture with nagi. “he better give you your game back!”

nagi gets this fleeting feeling that he doesn’t know how to explain when he sees you smiling at him. like how you remind him of the color gray. not because it’s bland but because it’s his favourite color. you remind him of spring and the cool breeze and how refreshing it feels.

“it was a nice one-time date, nagi seishiro,” you chuckle before you turn around, ready to head into the station and probably never spend such time with nagi again. you’ll probably get over the sadness of what could’ve been pretty quickly. you think.

but just before you can enter, you hear the firm steadiness in nagi’s voice. “no.”

you whip your head around, not quite sure you heard him right. “no?” you narrow your stare a little, moving out of other people’s way as they push past you into the station. “as in, you didn’t like it?”

you hope he doesn’t mean it like that.

nagi looks away, earnestly processing it. it came blurting out of him, he didn’t even know what he said until he said it. “i won the bet and what i want is… this. again. with you.”

the implications of his words slowly sink in and it has you feeling giddy. nagi, the guy who barely cares about anything nor makes the time for anyone—is he actually telling you this? is he really saying he’d take you out more?

meanwhile, nagi’s feet stay firmly planted where he is, wondering why you make him feel like this, why you make him feel like he can’t get enough. you’re just… you. before today, he could honestly say you were insignificant. but just the way you are; how you speak, your smile, your laugh and your resilience—nagi likes it, finds comfort in it, somehow.

“then,” you say as you enter the station, face giddy with the excitement of something new blossoming. “i’ll wait for more dates with you, sei.”

the way you call him that makes his heart skip a beat and he’s left blankly staring at your figure as you retreat into the station, stealing his heart with you.

“fine, fine,” reo sighs. it’s two days later on a monday and reo grudgingly gives nagi back his switch. “so, what’d you two do anyway?” he asks, shifting his gaze between nagi and you, though you’re at the other end of the classroom, talking excitedly to your friends.

nagi’s attention quickly transfers to his switch, already opening up a game to play. “nothing much,” is all he offers, and reo’s beginning to think maybe it was more of a punishment for you than a date.

reo sighs again, ready to lecture nagi for being the worst date ever when he pulls up his phone to look at the time. but he accidentally takes nagi’s phone instead, unlocking it to find his own chat thread—to which nagi doesn’t even bother saving his name (reo side eyes him but nagi doesn’t even realise).

that doesn’t surprise him, but what does is when reo realises your contact is saved—with the icon being a picture of the two of you together. you must really be something to be able to make nagi do something so idiotic like this.

“oi, nagi.”

nagi only responds with a raise of his brow. he’s still clicking away at the controls. reo guesses it must be a racing game from those sounds.

“if you guys get married i better be the best man for being your matchmaker,” reo teases, his grin filling his face.

even though nagi doesn’t respond, the champagne pink that brushes across his cheeks is enough indication to reo of nagi’s feelings for you.

looks like he never needed to worry after all.

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ladycharles · 6 months ago

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Occasionally JK Rowling says or does something so offensive to my sensibilities that I must speak. Sadly, today is one of those days.

This post, and the "male" she is referring to is a cis woman boxer from Algeria. There is an unconfirmed report that she might have an intersex condition in which one's chromosomes are XY. She may not even have this condition, but even if she does, it does not mean anything but that she has an unusual DNA quirk. We do not call Tom Cruise a woman for having an extra X chromosome, for example (nor would I expect Rowling to accept it if he decided to compete as a woman in the Olympics).

Now Rowling, upon being pointed out that she essentially pulled the twitter equivalent of Austin Powers punching that old lady because she "looks rather mannish", moves the goalpost. She claims, against evidence, that she an unfair advantage, going so far as to imply that simply by competing with a rare condition this woman has cheated.

This might seem bizarre coming from a self professed FEMINIST. It is the contention of anti trans "feminists" like Rowling that womanhood is being erased and destroyed by "trans ideology"; Yet here a cis woman achieves a olympic victory and they accuse her of being a man, of cheating. They erase her achievement, they erase her womanhood.

The subtext is racist and misogynistic - a strong Algerian woman with features that do not reflect Western beauty standards is being denied the very womanhood that TERFs claim to protect. She has lost to women before, she has no clear advantage... Yet by virtue of her looks and a possible rare genetic condition, she is now a "man" and a fraud.

This doesn't surprise me, and I suspect that anyone who has had to deal with TERFs will agree. But in case anyone is shocked here's my take:

TERFism has always been a reactionary movement. While it draws from second and third wave feminists and has an ideology on paper, any space with TERFs will tend to feature mad crusades accusing cis women of being trans on looks, attacks against sex workers that are harsher than those on the men who make that industry dangerous, few towards actual men, and a sense of outrage that trumps any real ideology.

It is feminism much like how "National Socialism" was socialist. And like the Nazis did with socialism, it uses the idea of feminism to legitimize attacks on perceived enemies while preserving the status quo. For TERFs that's traditional gender roles, which they have twisted into something that protects women rather than subjugates them. (This is not to say TERFs are Nazis, but it is a decent comparison because fascism is the ultimate reactionary ideology; full of symbolism and mythology yet devoid of any substance but machismo and hate.)

In a nuanced, good faith society, we might discuss trans women in sports using science to determine whether there are unfair advantages, and consult stakeholders and experts in sport and biology. We might study if chromosomes do impart an advantage, and weigh that against the other myriad genetic advantages like long reach or faster muscle gain to determine if there is any problem with current regulations. We might not do these things too, considering we have gone the entire history of sport without a single women's league collapsing from secret "male" invasion.

In Rowling's world, we first attack the winning woman as a "man in disguise" and rail against her without evidence. We have people replying "just look at HIM, he is clearly male". We have people writing violent revenge fantasies in which the Algerian woman gets beaten by a man or a gang of women to "teach her a lesson"... and JK does not once jump in to say any of it is inappropriate or hurtful to women who happen to have androgynous features, like some less fanatic people sharing the story have done.

When this is how their "ideology" reacts to an apparently "male looking" woman winning, we have to ask whether the liberation of women was ever the goal.

And the one thing that makes it all make sense, IMO, is that it's the lashing out that's the point. These people seem to enjoy calling a cis woman a man in much the same way they enjoy calling a trans woman a man. They enjoy the feeling of power as together they act cruel towards a woman who had the audacity to beat a white European. They seem to relish the ability to present themselves as feminists in one breath while brutally harrassing and demeaning women. Unlike ordinary bigots, they constantly bring up their crusade, as if they're growing dependent on the thrill. The cruelty, as they say, seems to be the point.

The danger of these ideologies is really becoming obvious ahead of the US election. Years of social media bubbles and astroturfing have made people like Rowling convinced that they are a silent majority, ironic for people who can't shut up.

Times like this I think are important reminders of where this can really lead. They may spin about being gender critical or concerned about women when the pressure is on; This is what these people do when they think they can get away with it.

This is the dark heart of their movement, beating loud enough to hear.

#anti jkr #unsolicited essay #jk rowling #trans inclusive radical feminism #pro trans #nonbinary #terfs hate women

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mrsjellymunson · 7 months ago

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KNOCK AT THE CABIN | Part Two

Pairing: Eddie Munson x fem!reader

Written for @bettyfrommars, @allthingsjoeq and @somnambulic-thing ’s excellent Stranger Prompts challenge - thank you for this, friends!

Series Summary: After the events of the previous months, everyone is shocked by the unexpected return of an old friend. But how much has he changed?

Chapter summary: Some answers, more questions 😉

WC: ~8.5k

C/W: 18+, MDNI, NSFW, series CW for eventual Eddie Munson x fem!reader smut, post-S4, Upside Down exists, dark/supernatural themes, emotional scenes, eventual friends-to-lovers, descriptions of minor injuries, food/eating, mentions of canon-typical torture/experiments.

A/N: This series contains a lot of themes and scenarios that I haven’t written for before, I’d love to know what you think! Please comment and reblog, it means the world to writers, and reblogs mean work gets seen. Abundant thanks to @the-unforgivenn for beta-ing and playing The Thesaurus Game 😛 This series has a taglist so if you’d like to be on either it or my general one just lemme know in a comment, ask or message, I’d love to have you on board 🙏💙

Prev: Prologue Part One

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You wake earlier than they do, shards of sunlight peeking through Steve’s pathetically thin and badly arranged curtains hitting you straight in the face.

You don’t move initially, enjoying the sound of both boys’ soft, rhythmic breaths, grateful they’ve both had the opportunity to rest and sleep.

You use this moment of stillness to allow the events of the previous night to filter through your consciousness. Eddie’s still here. He’s somewhat warmer than he was, and is still breathing. You’ll take all of those as a win.

His arm is still wrapped around your ribs, his chest against your back. During the night, one of his thighs has made its way between yours, and his hips are now pressed up against the swell of your ass.

You suppose that if you look at it objectively, he’s in a pretty good approximation of the Recovery Position. Good for him. Promoting healing, aiding recovery, and all that.

And you suppose that if you look at it subjectively, having the entire length of Eddie’s body squashed against the entire length of yours, and having his leg pressed against you just there, stirs feelings that are inappropriate for you to be having right now. Such as how much you’re enjoying it. How safe you feel. How much you wish there weren’t even these small, thin pieces of fabric separating you from him…

He snuffles behind you, groaning softly, and his arm contracts, pulling you even closer to him. You’d much prefer it was more than just the involuntary tensing of a waking man that’s causing him to do this, but push that thought to the back of your mind.

You slowly turn your head as far as you can, only able to see a little of him out of the corner of your eye. His hair is fuzzy as hell, but that’s the least of your concerns right now.

In what you hope is a soft and comforting voice, you ask,

“Morning, big guy. How’re you feeling?”

Eddie’s voice is cracked and broken, like he hasn’t used it in a while. It’s gravelly and low as he mumbles,

“Mmf. A little sore, but warm. God, it feels so good to be warm…”

His arm clenches around you again, and he pushes his face into the back of your neck.

Trying to cover an unbidden moan, and inject some levity, you reply,

“Well, thank goodness for that, otherwise all of mine and Steve’s efforts last night would’ve been for nothing.”

Eddie shifts, starting to get a sense of where he is and the situation he’s found himself in. It causes Steve to stir behind him and let out a little groan of his own, and you feel Eddie freeze.

Trying to calm him and keep this obviously bizarre situation simple and light, you mumble,

“Yeah, body heat seemed to be the best way to keep you warm. I don’t suppose waking up naked between me and Harrington was on your bucket list, right?”

Eddie’s cheeks don’t exactly flush (going from pale grey to pale pink far too much of a gradient to be entirely achievable right now), but you do notice a little warmth appear in them.

Eddie jests, at least you think he’s jesting, as his grip around you tightens again, stronger this time as his muscles wake up, and he chuckles lightly as he smooshes his face into your hair,

“Well, it's definitely not the worst place I’ve ever woken up.”

This rouses Steve enough that he’s now fully awake, and he seems to remember where he is too. He moves away from Eddie and sits up, rubbing his eyes and yawning. Glancing over, he mumbles,

“Hey, man. So, there’s literally hundreds of things I wanna ask you right now, but I guess I’ll start with, uh, how are you?”

Steve’s face contorts with a mix of incredulity and embarrassment at the utter banality of the question he just asked.

Unfazed, Eddie replies,

“Honestly, dude? I’m not entirely sure…”

He tries to shift his legs to sit up, but realises how enmeshed they are with yours, and inadvertently pushes his thigh up even closer to you.

Steve continues, unable to stop himself.

“What happened? Where have you been? How did you even get here?”

Eddie lets out a long, low exhale.

Finally picking up on how tired Eddie still is, and how tangled your and Eddie’s limbs are, you guess Steve decides he doesn’t want to get into any of that right now and declares,

“Y’know what, I’m gonna go make coffee.”

He grabs some sweats and a crumpled tee, and heads out towards the kitchen, leaving you and Eddie alone.

Fuck, this is awkward.

After a short pause, you mumble,

“Yeah, I suppose we should get up too. The kids are gonna be beside themselves, I’d prepare yourself for a barrage of questions if I were you.”

Exhaling, you somewhat reluctantly extricate yourself from Eddie’s embrace, sitting on the edge of the bed and reaching for the pile of clothes you’re grateful you had the foresight to put out last night.

Pulling on jeans, a worn t-shirt and a woollen jumper, you sit back down and turn to Eddie, who’s now leaning up against Steve’s battered headboard, sheets bunched around his waist.

You notice his eyes are still sunken and red-rimmed, but he’s lost some of the sallowness that he had last night, and his features are significantly more relaxed.

As he sits up you have the chance to observe his torso properly. He’s thinner, and much paler, than the boy you remember. The odd appearance of his musculature that you could see last night is still abundantly present.

And there are scars. Lots of scars. They vary in appearance and colour, rough slashes and violent starbursts, in silvery white, muted pinks and shades of angry purples and reds. Some look smooth and well-healed, whilst others are raised and jagged. Some transect the inked designs you came to know so well, and it looks like he might’ve lost a nipple.

Realising you’ve been staring, you tear your eyes away and move them instead to Eddie’s face. He looks terrified, like he’s worried you’re going to find him abhorrent and run away screaming.

He starts to reach for the covers, to cover himself, but you lunge forwards and grab one of his hands in yours. You don’t break his gaze as you tell him,

“It’s okay, Eddie. You don’t have to hide yourself from me.”

His face softens, but his eyebrows remain pinched and his lips are still pressed tightly together.

Finally looking down as you stroke over his hand with both of yours, you notice that the wounds that you bathed and tended to only a few hours ago are practically healed, only a few areas of redness remaining where there were bleeding gashes and scarlet grazes. Some have almost disappeared.

You decide not to focus on this and concentrate instead on the fact that your friend, your best friend, the one you all thought was dead, is back with you here, right now.

Grasping his hand in both of yours, you murmur,

“However it happened, it’s really, really good to have you back, you know.”

He smiles then, and although it reaches his eyes, it does little to lift the grey pallor of his face.

He brings his other hand over, and as he rubs his thumbs over your knuckles he notices the ring on your thumb. He runs a pad over the contours of the skull.

“You- You kept this?”

“Of course! I wear it every day. It helps me remember my best friend.” Your voice gets quiet as you add, unsure whether you’re overstepping.

“It helps keep you close to me.”

You hold each other's gaze for a beat too long, and Eddie’s lips open as if he’s going to say something.

Before he has the chance, a ball of anxiety rises in your throat, and you decide you can’t take the risk of him… what?

Telling you you’re stupid? That it doesn’t mean anything? That he wants his ring back?

You know none of this sounds like anything Eddie would say, but in your fragile, exhausted state you need to protect yourself from the risk of emotional harm, no matter how small.

You remove your hand from his and bend to retrieve the clothes Steve left for him, reasoning with a small smile,

“We don’t want you getting cold again, right?”

Eddie starts to dress, grunting a little as his limbs start working again. He only has time to pull on the worn sweatshirt when the door bursts open and the kids rush in. Dustin first, swiftly followed by Mike and Lucas, whilst Will and Jane hang back in the doorway.

The three teens leap, grinning, onto Steve’s bed, whooping and hollering and rolling around. They’re full of questions and theories and tales of what they’ve been doing whilst he’s been gone, all talking over one another.

Whilst Eddie is smiling and laughing and you can tell he’s buoyed by their love and exuberance, you also know he still needs to recover from last night, let alone whatever else he might have been through these past few weeks. So after a few minutes you shoo them out, instructing them to go help Steve make breakfast.

Dustin’s the last to leave, pausing in the doorway as he turns back, running his hand down his cheek and saying, with an infinitely adoring expression on his face,

“I can’t believe you’re here, man. It’s so good to have you back.”

They share friendly smiles before Dustin turns on his heel and follows the others, his voice decreasing in volume as he heads down the hallway yelling,

“I’m on toast duty today! You guys ate all the good peanut butter last time…”

You both snicker at their antics, Eddie shaking his head a little.

You want to say more, but settle for,

“They missed you. We all did.”

Eddie furrows his eyebrows and rolls his lips inwards into a tight-lipped smile, and you sense that he’s just as emotional as you all are.

He continues dressing, and you’re relieved the kids didn’t see Eddie’s scars, for all their sakes. You’re not sure whether they’re ready to revisit what happened in the Upside Down, and you don't want Eddie’s first day back with you all to involve him having to uncomfortably explain where they all came from.

He dons the rest of the unfamiliar clothing, and eventually stands, facing you. He spreads his arms wide and pulls a goofy face, raising his eyebrows high and flattening his mouth into a thin line, knowing how unlike ‘him’ he must look right now.

You never imagined you’d ever see your favourite black-loving metalhead in an oversized heather grey Hawkins Athletic sweatshirt, worn navy sweatpants and fluffy white sports socks, but needs must, and at least it’s all clean and he’s staying warm.

There’s a crash in the kitchen, startling both of you, but it prompts you to suggest,

“Come on, let’s go see what chaos those guys are causing.”

You direct him to the front of the house, and as Eddie shuffles into the kitchen all eyes turn to him. You see the kids take in his fluffy hair and new garb. He notices and, preemptively gesturing to himself and in a very close approximation of his Dungeon Master voice, says,

“If anyone says anything about this, I swear I will kill you. Got it?”

Mike and Lucas try to act like they weren’t even looking, and Dustin raises his hands in supplication. Jane laughs at the boys’ responses and Will smirks at the shenanigans, and you’re certain he and Eddie are going to get along just fine.

The kids have made everyone a simple breakfast of boiled eggs, toast and fresh oatmeal and they bring it to the large farmhouse-style table as everyone gets situated. Craving his proximity, you take the chair next to Eddie. Steve’s made a large pot of hot coffee, which is swiftly devoured by the four adults and almost instantly requires replenishment.

The kids want to fill Eddie in on, well, everything. Over breakfast there’s much chatter about what’s been happening in town, how the three of you ended up staying here, how kind and supportive Wayne and Owens have been, even a somewhat discombobulating discussion of what Eddie’s funeral was like. Plus there’s tales from the boys about D&D and stuff that’s important to the teens, most of which you zone out of.

Eddie is also properly introduced to the two he doesn’t know. He greets Will with a broad smile and claps both his hands around the boy’s slender one, a symbolic gesture full of characteristic Eddie warmth, welcoming another sheep even though this particular one has known the others for many years.

You don’t think anyone else notices, but you don’t miss the moment of extended eye contact and tiny nods that are exchanged between him and Jane, as they are introduced and shake hands.

Eddie seems to have a good appetite, devouring four warm, runny-yolked eggs, three slices of toast slathered with butter and jelly, and two large bowls of oatmeal with honey and syrup in rapid succession.

There’s some syrup on his chin when he’s finished. You want to clean it off with your thumb and suck it into your mouth, but you resist the urge.

The food cheers him, even seems to put a little colour in Eddie’s cheeks. Well, perhaps not colour exactly, but a move from grey to white is certainly progress. It’s hardly Cordon Bleu cuisine, but Eddie’s hoovered it up like it’s the best meal he’s ever had. You wonder what he’s been surviving on all this time to make such simple stuff seem so luxurious.

Coffee mugs are refreshed, the table is cleared, and there follows a semi-formal exchange of the personal items of Eddie’s that are in the cabin. Lucas returns his pocket knife, which Eddie thanks him for with a bro handshake and a half-hug, and Dustin gets down on one knee and presents him with his wallet chain on outstretched hands, as if he’s presenting a weapon or battle trophy to his commander. Eddie ruffles his hair and brings him in for a crushing bear hug.

Robin and Steve return his crucifix and boar’s head rings, which he dons, and you can’t help noticing that they’re slightly looser than they used to be. You’re grateful nobody questions why you don’t return the skull ring to him, or seems to notice the knowing glance and small smile that he gives you.

Dishes are cleaned and yet more coffee is brewed, and you head to the utility room to see how Eddie’s clothes are doing in the (noisy, and possibly unsafe) drier. As you return there’s a lull in the conversation.

Ever the direct one, Robin can’t stand the not knowing any longer, and as Steve pours the next round of coffees she blurts,

“So, what the fuck happened? We thought you were dead. You were dead. They fucking buried you!”

The kitchen falls silent for a moment, nobody sure how much Eddie wants to divulge or relive.

He wraps his palms around his steaming mug, and takes a long, slow, deep breath in and out before he starts talking.

“I don’t remember much after that night with the, uh, Demobats. I kinda remember being jostled into a van, or a military-type vehicle maybe? And tubes, bright lights, people shouting…

“The next thing I know, I’m in some kind of lab, a poky room with a tiny cot and metal furniture, and people coming in at all hours to prod at me and stick me with needles. They did all sorts of tests and injected me with shit, and they wouldn’t tell me what any of it was.

“I’m not sure whether it’s a good or a bad thing that I can’t remember a lot of detail. It’s mostly just pain, agony, and being either chained or locked up. And screaming, so much screaming... Whether that was me or the others, I don’t know.”

You interject,

“There- There were others?”

He nods slowly.

“Yeah, definitely more than just me. I have no idea how many, who they were, what happened to them...”

His hands start trembling, and he lets go of the mug that’s started to shake in his grip, quickly putting his hands in his lap.

“I think the injections they were giving me were concoctions made from the… things they found… down there.

“Owens visited me a couple of times. He said he didn’t like what was being done to me but he wasn’t able to change anything. The last time I saw him he told me he was being transferred to a different site and didn’t think he’d be able to visit again, but he wanted me to know there was someone on his side.”

There’s a brief pause before he continues,

“The last, uhh, experiment was the worst-”

Eddie screws up his face and clenches his teeth at the memory, and balls up one fist, bringing it up to his pursed lips. He squeezes his eyes closed, and a tear appears at the corner of one eye.

You don’t know whether it’s the right thing to do, but you grab his other hand under the table, hoping it’ll give him comfort but fully expecting him to flinch away.

He doesn’t, and his hand clamps around yours in a fierce grip, almost crushing it.

Voice trembling and breaking, he continues.

“It was- Jesus H Christ- it was like liquid fucking fire. All I remember was feeling like they’d injected me with molten lava, and then there was so much shouting, and hands holding me down, and then everything went black...”

He pauses, and nobody else speaks.

Steve swallows, the tap drips into the sink and Robin’s rings clink softly against her coffee mug as she turns it anxiously.

“And then… And then the next thing I remember is coming to, and feeling cold, so- so fucking cold. And darkness, absolute darkness. And I was so scared, and I just started scraping and scratching at whatever was over me, and just kept scrabbling and digging until… there wasn’t anything over me anymore.”

You’re all stunned.

Someone says a quiet ‘fuck’, and you think you hear a sob, perhaps from Dustin.

Steve remains silent but runs a hand through his hair, palm coming to rest over his mouth, and Robin mutters a soft,

“Shit, Eddie.”

You all realise that Eddie wasn’t lying on a slab at all for these past two months, but was being experimented on, and it takes a long moment to sink in.

Eventually, Eddie says,

“Fuck. They really buried me, huh?”

To illustrate his point and as an attempt to inject some humour into the moment, he loosely combs his fingers through his fluffy locks and asks, “When I got here, did I have stuff in my hair?”

There are a few chuckles, and someone throws a balled up paper napkin at him.

There’s another short pause where nobody says anything, but then it’s like a dam breaks and everyone starts talking at once. Robin and Steve make comparisons with the Russians, the kids offer D&D analogies and half-baked scientific theories, and people ask Will and Jane what they think.

For the rest of the morning much discussion ensues, as well as the consumption of store-brand cookies and even more coffee, and you all try to fill in the blanks. Whilst some of the kids interject with ideas and suggestions, others sit quietly, mostly listening. You wonder quite how much secondhand trauma this is going to cause all of them.

As a group you eventually surmise that some shadowy branch of the military was battering Eddie and the others with all sorts of tests, and injecting them with unknown substances, goals unknown and refusing to tell anyone what they were.

Owens clearly never agreed with their approach, and it sounds like he tried to distance himself as much as possible.

The military finally took their experiments too far. Thinking they’d killed him, they eventually released Eddie’s body to his only family, Wayne, and allowed him to be buried.

Unbeknownst to them, their final experiment was the most successful, it just took longer to manifest than the others. Weeks, in fact. Just long enough for the scientists (if you could even call them that) to lose any expectation of a recovery, and for Owens and Wayne to organise a funeral.

Eddie had awoken, dazed, trapped and freezing and with no idea where he was, and had somehow managed to smash the lid of his coffin and scramble his way to the surface. On a rainy night, miles from anywhere.

Finally, Mike is the first to ask the question you think most of you have been contemplating.

“Dude, how did you even find us?”

At particularly painful points in his oration, Eddie has looked to you, seemingly finding comfort in your face, and his gaze doesn’t leave yours as he replies,

“Honestly? I don’t really know. I just had this… feeling… that I needed to come in this direction. And the closer I got, the more certain I was that this is where I’d find you.” Hurriedly, he looks around the rest of the group and adds, “Find you all.”

He carefully lays the hand not holding yours flat onto the table, and, eyes fixed on the faded floral tablecloth, he chokes back a sob as he asks a question that he’s clearly been holding back.

“Why didn’t anyone- Why didn’t you come find me?”

Robin grabs his hand across the table, wrapping it in both of hers, holding it tightly. There’s a beat of silence before she speaks.

“W-we didn’t know! They didn’t tell us anything about any lab. We thought you were dead. Eddie, that first night? They told us you’d died!”

Her voice cracks on the last word, and you see tears start to slowly run down her cheeks.

Eddie chokes, and his eyes lift to the ceiling.

Dustin’s the first to move as he scrapes his chair back and sprints around to Eddie, enveloping his shoulders and neck in a clumsy but aggressively enthusiastic hug as he mumbles into his friend’s shoulder,

“But you’re not dead. You’re not. You’re here, with us, now. You’re back, Eddie, you’re back...”

Lucas stands too, ruffling Eddie’s hair and half-hugging the top of his head with one arm, leaning his cheek against Eddie’s curls, and you lean into Eddie, placing your forehead against the side of his bicep.

Steve turns from where he’s been brewing even more coffee, and moves to place his hand on a patch of shoulder not covered by Dustin or Lucas, patting softly. As he turns back to the stove he comments,

“Yeah, man. D’you really think we wouldn’t’ve come got you? Fuck those guys and all their crappy experiments. No one does that to a member of The Party.”

You simultaneously feel Eddie’s grip on your hand tighten, and the rest of his body relax. Many of you are crying, the sleeves of Eddie’s sweater darkening in patches from the wet plops of Dustin’s tears.

Will and Jane are affected too, and you see their faces soften as they clasp each other's hands under the table.

Eddie’s breath deepens as he absorbs the love and affection of his friends. You guess he’s not used to this much positive attention, and has clearly received even less over the last few weeks.

You all sit in silence for a few long moments, allowing all this new information to sink in and emotions to settle.

Eventually the noise of the stove and the clattering of coffee supplies, together with a strong gust of wind and the increased pattering of leaves against the window, brings you all back to the room.

Eddie seems to have processed everything faster than the rest of you, his emotions shifting, and as Steve pours more coffee he becomes agitated, slamming his fists on the table, startling all of you with the ferocity of his movements.

You guess he’s angry not only at the testing he underwent, but that they lied to all of you, and let him feel hopeless, like nobody cared.

The kids move back as he stands and starts pacing, running his hands through his already-frizzy hair and shaking his head.

“FUCK! Those bastards! Not only did they use me as some kind of twisted lab rat, but they didn’t even tell you guys I was alive? And they let me think that none of you cared enough to come find me, visit me, get me out? GODDAMMIT!”

He slams a palm into the doorframe, and you all jump a little.

Turning back to the room, Eddie notices the effect he’s having on everyone, and, rubbing the back of his neck, says,

“I think I’m gonna go take a walk…”

He moves towards the back door, the expanse of the disused field behind the cabin seemingly the ideal place for him to get his head together.

But, spying the large axe leaning against the frame, he has a better idea.

“Hey, uh, do you guys have, like, logs ‘n’ shit that need chopping? I really need to, um, work through some stuff. Besides, it’s probably the least I can do, given how much heat and hot water I’ve already cost you all.”

He gives a sheepish snort and brings his hand to his face again.

It’s you who speaks first.

“Are you sure, Eddie? I mean, it’s been a stressful few days. Are you okay to be doing something so… physical?”

“Yeah, yeah… I’m feeling a little… pent up. Could do with working some of it off, y’know?”

You nod, figuring all of you are going to need different ways to process this whole bizarre and unsettling situation.

Dustin and Mike find some old tan workboots in a closet, presumably left by the previous owner. They don’t fit perfectly, and it looks like something may have nested in one of them at some point, but they’ll do for now. Eddie pulls them on over his loaned sweats and socks, leaving them unlaced.

Robin offers him his leather jacket. She’s obviously had a go at cleaning off as much of the mud as she can, but you can all tell it’s never going to be quite the same. At least it’s dry now, and Eddie takes it gratefully.

He grabs the old axe and the small hatchet that you use to chop kindling, unlocks the back door and steps outside, closing it behind him.

Dustin wants to go out to him, but Robin grabs him and holds him in a tight hug, explaining that he needs some time to process stuff.

The others give him space, some staying at the kitchen table to process their thoughts, others retreating to the living room and diverting their thoughts with the crackling cartoons that break through the terrible TV signal.

You choose to keep an eye on Eddie, staying back a little from the back door so as not to alarm him, but keeping him within your eye line.

You see Eddie pace a little, muttering to himself, then he shakes his head as if to clear it.

He turns to the log pile and hefts the axe a couple of times, getting the feel of it. He lifts a couple of modestly sized logs onto the stump, wielding the axe above his head and splitting them easily. Almost… effortlessly.

He chops a few more, flinging them into a pile with ease, then moves to lift a few larger ones, breezing through them with the same ‘hot knife through butter’ nonchalance.

It’s the most physical activity you’ve ever seen him do, aside from lifting the odd amp or two, which always left him puffed out. But he’s sailing through the woodpile with barely any exertion.

You can see he’s still processing the contents of your morning, as his features screw up occasionally and grumbled words and what are probably profanities spill from his lips.

As he hefts the axe through the tough logs you can see his eyes are getting redder, and his skin appears paler. You can’t see his body, but the tendons on his hands and neck are popping starkly underneath his translucent skin. And, the wind has picked up considerably since he’s been outside, whipping loose leaves and twigs around the cabin just like it did last night.

Eventually, he starts on the biggest, gnarliest logs. The ones you guys would only attempt when you really, really needed the firewood.

You hear grunts, muffled by the back door, as he works the tougher wood.

The axe gets stuck partway through a particularly thick log, and with an animalistic grunt Eddie yanks the blade from it. Easily lifting the log in his arms, he notches his long fingers into the groove and, in a move that startles you, he rips it into two pieces with his bare hands.

By the back door you suppress a gasp, your hand flying across your mouth and your eyes going wide. You’re not sure whether you should go to him, try to comfort him, or leave him to work through this in whatever way he needs to.

You don’t get the chance to decide, as he finally gets to a particularly old and knotty log that none of you have been able to get anywhere close to splitting. As Eddie slams the axe down into it with a ferocity you didn’t think was possible, he gets it far further than any of you have so far, but again, the blade gets stuck.

The wind picks up even more, as Eddie picks up the axe, log attached, and heaves it around his head, sending it spinning across the back field as he lets out a loud, feral and painful-sounding yell.

Breathing deep for a couple of moments, he runs a hand down his face and begins to trudge across the bumpy earth to retrieve it, coping easily with the rough and uneven ground of the ploughed field and his ill-fitting boots. You can see he’s still yelling expletives and occasionally waving his arms and shouting up into the sky.

The distance that he’s managed to throw the axe is substantial enough that he shrinks in your field of vision by the time he reaches it. You can no longer make out his expression, but as he comes to a halt you do see him bend over and place his hands on his knees, watching his back heave as he takes a few more deep, steadying breaths.

He lifts the axe and heaves both it and the attached heavy log easily over his shoulder with one hand. You consider that you’ve never seen him lift anything with such ease, save maybe his leather jacket, flung over his back, dangling it from one finger on a hot day.

As he turns and starts making his way back to the house, you notice that the wind has started to die down and is whipping less of Eddie’s hair around his face, and leaves and twigs begin to fall to the ground.

You hadn’t realised Jane had come to join you at the back door. Despite not directly knowing Eddie before, she says, in her characteristically deadpan voice, “He is… different now. Isn’t he?”

You purse your lips and nod, quick and small, and find it remarkable that this seemingly awkward young woman, who’s endured so much at the hands of so many, has developed such insight and tenderness.

After removing the axe from the gnarly chunk of wood and placing it by the back door, Eddie spends a few minutes arranging the logs he’s split into neat piles beneath the small shelter. The skin around his eyes is less red now, and his general demeanour seems more relaxed, controlled. Perhaps this has helped after all.

He takes a couple of breaths and composes himself before he heads back towards the door, holding the axe in one hand and a stack of logs atop his other arm.

Bashful, and conscious that you’d rather he didn’t know that you’ve been watching him the entire time, you take a few steps backwards and make like you’re just now coming to the door, opening it for him with a broad smile and directing him to the place in the living room where you store the wood for the fire, thanking him for his efforts.

As he places the last of the wood and starts to take off his jacket, you notice that his hands are again torn and bloody, splinters sticking out every which way and an angry-looking blister on one palm.

You assume that he’s reopened his wounds from last night, but the positions and patterns don’t match up. Everything from last night has almost completely healed, and these are all new.

Regardless of the peculiarities, they need attention, so you instruct him,

“Come with me, let’s get you cleaned up.”

You send him to your bedroom as you grab some washcloths, a bowl of warm water and the first aid kit from the bathroom.

You sit him up against your headboard, setting up your supplies on the comforter. Figuring it’s the most practical position for you to be in, you straddle his knees and begin dabbing at his cut and splintered hands with antiseptic. Realising there’s too much debris in the way, and wincing at the sheer size and quantity of them, you grab some tweezers, removing the splinters of various sizes that have embedded into his fingers and palms.

As you swap back to using the wet cloths and begin cleaning the blood from his skin, you’re perhaps less surprised than you should be to find that the new injuries have already stopped bleeding, and some of the smaller ones even appear to be closing up, apparently heading the same way as the cuts on his face and feet from whatever happened last night.

You work quietly for a few moments before your curiosity gets the better of you.

“Eddie?”

“Hmm?”

“What was that? Outside, just now? You seem…”

“Different? Yeah, I know… Don’t ask me how it happened, but I feel different too. Stronger, faster…”

He glances at you through his bangs.

“Less in control…”

His brow is furrowed as he holds your gaze, and you guess he’s waiting for you to back off. You don’t.

“I guess they… changed me.”

You move to touch his chin gently with one hand, wanting to reassure him. You realise that by telling him this you’re going to reveal that you were watching him, but you forge ahead anyway.

“Listen, I’m not gonna pretend that whatever it is that I just saw wasn’t a little… unnerving. But I’ve never felt unsafe around you. Quite the opposite, in fact. And that hasn’t changed. I don’t think it ever will.”

He refuses to meet your gaze, and twists his battered hands together in his lap, seemingly fighting with himself.

“I should go. Leave you guys. You’re not safe with me here.”

A vice grip seizes your chest. All logic leaves you, and the only thing you can think about is never letting him go again.

“Eddie, no!”

“I don’t really know what their plan was, but I’m guessing they were trying to make me into a super soldier, or something. They’re not gonna stop. As soon as they find out what happened at the cemetery, they’re gonna try to find me. And if I could find you, they can find me.”

A ball of anxiety forms in you. You can’t let him go. You just can’t.

“I thought you were dead, we all did. I’ve only just found you again, after I thought I’d lost you forever. Please don’t say you’re going to leave?”

Your voice cracks and you swallow back a sob. You lurch forward and grip both of his hands with all the strength you have left, not caring that you’re getting his blood on you, and might even be hurting him.

If Eddie feels any pain, he doesn't flinch. But the sight of you falling to pieces in front of him, because of him, is apparently something he can’t bear.

“Okay, I won’t. I’ll stay tonight, at least. Then we’ll try to figure something out. Maybe contact Owens, see if he knows anything. Alright?”

He raises his head and looks into your eyes now, as you snuffle a little and manage a small smile. He’s yours for tonight, at least.

No, not exactly yours, you have to remind yourself. He’s safe, with all of you, for tonight, at least.

Something else decides to jostle for prominence in your mind, and you ask him, quietly,

“How did you find us? Really. How did you know where to go?”

Eddie takes a deep breath before shifting slightly, and he returns the grip on your hands.

You think you hear a little trepidation in his voice as he speaks.

“I don’t know if this is going to sound crazy, but… what doesn’t these days, right? It’s like- Even before… everything, it’s like every time I left you I left a part of my soul with you. And… it would stay with you all the time we were apart. And then whenever I was with you I’d find it again. That’s how I found you. It was like I was searching for a piece of myself, and somehow I just knew where to find it.”

He goes quiet, dropping his chin to his chest again.

His words play on a loop in your head. Even before… I left a part of my soul with you… and whenever I was with you I’d find it...

You shift forwards even more, closing the gap between you, and the movement makes you become acutely aware of your proximity. You become conscious of the feel of his firm thighs between yours, how good it feels. How, for the second time in less than twenty four hours, you wish there weren’t these thin pieces of fabric between you.

Something sparks in your chest: Could he feel the same way as you?

Your voice trembles as you practically beg him,

“I don't want you ever to leave, Eddie. I don’t want us to ever be apart, and always be there for each other. I don’t want you to ever be missing a part of your soul again. I want to be with you, always.”

Eddie huffs out a sob of his own, lifting your hands to his and nuzzling his face into your knuckles. He takes one and slowly turns his head until his round nose connects with your curled fingers. And then, ever so slowly, he connects his lips with the soft, sensitive skin on your palm.

Tentatively, he moves a little and purses them against the inside of your wrist, lightly pressing them there, inhaling deeply and his breath shuddering slightly as he inhales your scent.

You notice both of your breathing has quickened. You can feel Eddie’s as it passes over your skin, and you feel your heartbeat in your throat.

Eddie looks over at you. His body may have changed in myriad ways, but his eyes remain the same. They’re still the huge, beautiful, warm pools of cacao that have drawn you in since the moment you met. It’s the tether that makes you realise that no matter how else he might’ve changed, deep down he’s still Eddie. Your Eddie.

You move your other hand, gently taking his wrist, and move his free hand up to your face. You close your eyes as you softly kiss his palm, and then move his hand to cup your cheek.

Gently, almost imperceptibly, Eddie moves his thumb and touches it to the very corner of your mouth. You feel a heat in your belly and you turn your head towards it, skimming it over your lips.

Your eyes flick between his chocolate orbs as Eddie bends his thumb ever so slightly. The pad of it pulls at the plush of your lower lip a tiny amount, but it’s enough to create a gap.

Without thinking you start to open your jaw, and he begins to move forwards. As he pushes into your waiting mouth all you can think about is tasting him, and your tongue starts to move. Just as the tip of it is about to make contact with Eddie’s thumb, there’s a jarring yell.

“Hey, everybody! Grub’s up!”

You pull apart with a start, both inhaling sharply.

It’s Robin, calling from the kitchen. Of course you’re grateful that the mums never allow the kids to arrive empty handed, but a large part of you wishes that you and Eddie could’ve had just a little more time to explore… whatever this is.

You let out nervous chuckles as you smile softly at one another, and hold each other’s gaze for probably little longer than is strictly necessary before you gather up the medical supplies and you both stand.

You can’t help but take Eddie’s hand in yours as you pull him towards the kitchen, encouraging him to follow lest he misses out on the delicacy that is Dustin’s mom’s substantial contribution.

“C’mon, Claudia’s lasagnas are totally legendary. It may sound simple, but combined with Mrs Sinclair’s recipe for garlic bread, I promise you, you’re about to have a near-spiritual culinary experience.”

Still feeling the heat of what just occurred in your room you busy yourself with packing away the first aid kit, and then elect to sit across the table from Eddie. You convince yourself that you’re not avoiding him, simply allowing the kids the chance to get close to him for a little while.

As if reading your mind, Dustin immediately plants himself in the chair next to Eddie, swiftly followed by Mike on his other side. Lucas sits next to Dustin, and Will slides in next to Mike. They chatter excitedly about campaigns and creatures and characters, and to see Eddie flanked by his adoring sheep brings a different kind of warmth to your chest.

The conversation remains light over dinner. Jokes are cracked, teasing occurs, and you’re pleased everyone’s getting a break from the tension and horrors.

The culinary delights are as good as you’d promised, and Eddie hums and moans at the delicious bounty before him. He remains pale, but he’s definitely regained some strength, vigour.

He glances over at you after taking an especially large mouthful of the meaty dish, and after you stop giggling at his uncouth antics he grins at you, tomato sauce staining his lips and the sides of his mouth, confirming,

“You’re right, this is goddamn heavenly!”

At another point he takes a particularly large bite of some soaked bread, and herb-flecked garlic butter oozes all over his thumb. Your eyes are drawn to it as he brings it to his mouth and presses it between his plump lips, and your eyes connect across the table as he sucks it off, twisting the digit and temporarily giving himself the most salacious pout. He spots you looking, and leaves his thumb in his mouth for what you consider is altogether too long before pulling it out with a pop. You gulp audibly and shift in your seat, grateful for the general clamour disguising your arousal.

You haven’t discussed as a group whether or where Eddie’s going to stay, though it seems to be unspoken between all of you that of course he’s going to remain here until you can all figure out what to do next. You decide not to raise the earlier conversation you had about him possibly leaving.

Dustin’s the first to broach the subject, asking,

“So, where’re you sleeping tonight, Eddie? You wanna come bunk with us in the warmest room in the house?”

He wiggles his eyebrows, attempting to extol the virtues of the open fire. His excitement is palpable, and you envy the optimism of youth that can make even the least appealing flat surfaces sound like an enticing bedspace.

You interject on Eddie’s behalf, suggesting,

“Hey guys, I know it would be the coolest sleepover ever, but I think Eddie might’ve earned the luxury of an actual bedroom after what he’s been through recently, don’t you think?”

Dustin looks crestfallen, but recovers quickly, agreeing with an only slightly pouty,

“I suppoooooose…”

Without looking at the others, you turn to Eddie and proffer,

“You’ll stay in my room, right?”

Eddie nods, his curls bouncing, as he agrees, perhaps a little too quickly,

“Of course, yep, that sounds… entirely fine.”

You miss how Robin and Steve glance at each other, Steve raising an eyebrow as Robin smirks at him.

There’s a quick clean up as dishes are done and pans are left to soak. Craving normalcy, you pile into the small living room and manage to make it through about two thirds of another of Keith’s loaned films before blinks get longer, eyes start to close and heads start to loll.

Robin chivvies the teens to get their sleeping bags set up, and there’s the typical grousing and bickering as everyone tries to use the bathroom at the same time. You think at one point three of the boys are trying to use the sink simultaneously, jostling each other and spitting far too enthusiastically in an effort to spray their compatriots. It’s a small nugget of frivolity that makes you consider the possibility that you might just all be okay.

Steve moves the small electric heater from his room back to yours, and you retrieve Eddie’s clothes from the drier. He slips into his Hellfire shirt and clean boxers as you change into your Garfield nightshirt, and then starts to grab blankets from beside you.

Confused, you question,

“What’re you doing?”

“Oh, uh… I just thought I’d sleep on the floor, y’know, give you the bed.”

You’re aghast.

“Don't be silly, Eddie. There’s plenty of room. Sleep up here, please? I mean, it’s not like we never have before. All those nights in the trailer when I got too baked to make it home, or you got too baked to drive me, or both…”

You both chuckle at the fond memory. You wonder whether you’ll ever let on that sometimes you were faking it, or deliberately took too many drags from the last blunt, just so you could spend the night with him, in his bed.

He throws the blankets back over and, smiling, climbs in beside you.

Turning off your bedside light, the room becomes bathed in the low, pale blue glow of the moonlight.

You both lie on your backs, staring at the ceiling. Somehow it’s easier to talk like this.

Thumbing the skull ring on your hand, you want to talk about the… other thing that happened, but have no idea how to bring it up.

As you’re ruminating, Eddie beats you to it.

“I hope it wasn’t weird? Earlier, I mean. It was…”

Your thighs clench a minuscule amount as you recall the feel of him between them, and the lightest brush of your lips on various parts of each other, and you finish his sentence for him.

“Nice. It was nice.”

Shit. It was so much more than nice, you think to yourself.

“I don’t want you to think I’m taking advantage of you, or anything. I guess I’m just a little touch-starved, y’know…?”

“I don’t. Honestly, I’m just glad to be close to you again. And if I made you feel uncomfortable then I’m really sorry…”

You can tell by the minor shifts in the covers and from his general demeanour that Eddie’s fidgeting with his hands.

“You didn’t, I promise.”

There’s another pause, and Eddie huffs out another small breath before he continues,

“Listen, I know the past twenty-four hours has basically been weirdness personified, and I don’t want to make it even weirder, but…can I… maybe… hold you?”

“I think weird is probably the understatement of the century, but it’s okay. And… I think I’d like that.”

You shift closer to one another under the covers, and you turn onto your side as Eddie moves himself to spoon behind you in an echo of your position last night.

He tentatively drapes his arm over you. He feels warmer than when you last did this, and more relaxed, and you press slightly backwards towards him as much as you dare, letting out a heavy, relaxed sigh.

You take Eddie’s hand in yours, threading your fingers with his, running yours over and between his digits and turning his forelimb this way and that. He hums into your hair and lets you move his arm however you like.

But you stop when you glance down in the dim light and spot a small tattoo on the inside of his wrist that you’ve not seen before. It’s definitely new. You know this because you’ve spent hours tracing over every inch of his inked skin, fantasising about following the images with more than just your eyes, imagining using your fingers, your hands, your lips, your tongue…

But this one’s not like any of his others. This one is small and simple, and looks like the outlines of two soft-cornered rectangles with a blocky W between them. It takes you a moment to process what you’re looking at, realising it looks a lot like one you’ve seen before. She’s had it covered with a delicate floral design (having connections in government really can get you anything, including underage ink), but you remember what it looked like.

Jane’s was a rectangle stacked on top of two horizontal lines, but when you looked at it from a different angle it became numbers: 011.

Looking at Eddie’s, you move the position of his arm. It turns the image a little, suddenly giving it more meaning, as you see it depicts a different number: 030.

Quietly, you croak,

“Eddie, what’s thi-?”

You don’t have a chance to process what any of it could mean as Eddie suddenly tenses, his head lifted from the pillows and his face flicking towards the window and back to you.

His brow furrows as he murmurs,

“Do you hear that?”

You strain your ears and hear nothing at first. But then, gradually, and from far away, you hear the disturbingly familiar sounds of flapping, shuffling and screeching.

Goosebumps appear on your arms and the back of your neck as you abruptly recall the only things you know of that make sounds like these:

Creatures from the Upside Down…

Prev: Prologue Part One

Series masterlist

My masterlist

Thanks so much for reading!

I really hope you enjoyed this part. The next one will probably be the last, and the taglist is open (as is my general one), just say the word, friend 🙂

Comments and reblogs mean the world to me - please let me know what you think!

A/N 2: Did anyone spot the LOTR, Captain America and/or Make Up references? 🧝‍♂️🪓👍 (Also, completely by accident, AQPDO too 😜, and ETA: this and THIS 🫠)

Taglist: @joejoequinnquinn @jamdoughnutmagician @ali-r3n @eddiemunsonshandcuffs @jasminelafleur @corrodedcoffincumslut @kthomps914 @iletmytittiestitty-russ @findmeincorneliastreet @tlclick73 @sapphire4082 @razzeith @cupid-club @storiesbyrhi @eris-rose-86 @micheledawn1975 @bl0ssomanddie @veemoon @sunshinepeachx @writinginthetwilight @curlyjoequinn @madaboutmunson @airen256 @idkitsem @em0220 @kookygranger @fanfics-i-find-here @the-unforgivenn @b3lladoonna @skrzydlak @comeonatmebruh @jamiecb66 @80s-addict @abellmunsonmovie @definitionwanderlust @amandahobblepot @daisy-munson @sheneedsrocknroll92 @maedesculpaeusoubi @munson-blurbs @wonderlanddreamer @daisy-munson @kellsck @eddiemunsonshandcuffs @babydollface1165

(I’m getting a bit tangled up with my taglists so I hope nobody’s mortally offended if I either have or haven’t included them!)

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gallusrostromegalus · 10 months ago

Note

I must ask how my Most Favorite Boys, Jushiro Ukitake and Shinji Hirako, are doing in AEIWAM?

When Shinji returns to his post as Captain of the 5th after his exile, he is DETERMINED to not repeat his past mistakes and actually get to know the shinigami serving under him. He needs... Some kind of event, something people will voluntarily attend, where they'll tell him about themselves, and with a bit of structure because he is an awkward sod, and social interactions need RULES, DAMMIT-

"Now hang on-" says Shinji after staring at the blank office wall in silence for the last thirty minutes. "-that's not a bad idea!"

"...Is he okay?" Lieutenant Momo asks quietly.

"Oh yeah, he's always a little freak. Talks to himself and gets a lot out of the conversation." Also Lieutenant Hiyori nods. "You don't need to worry until he breaks out the craft supplies."

"He just pulled out a bunch of markers and construction paper." Momo pointed to their captain as he scribbled furiously on the paperwork he was ignoring.

"Aw. Fuck." Groaned Hiyori. "Well this is gonna be cringe as hell."

***

A few nights later, most of the fifth division assembled in the auditorium, slightly confused, but they had been promised there would be no additional work from this meeting, and there was an open bar, so they were in figurative and literal high spirits.

"Ladies and Gentlemen of the Fifth Division, welcome to TONIGHT'S GAME!" A cheerful and showman-like voice called out over the speakers, and the stage curtain rose to reveal a brightly colored game show stage where there had not been one before.

"Tonight's lovely contestants are- all the way from payroll, it's Fifth Division Tenth Seat Tenya Danshin!" The voice called out as the familiar face of their payroll and scheduling manager trotted out onstage and took his place behind the first of three podiums. There was some scattered and genuine, if confused applause from the audience.

"He's Big, he's Bad, he's just a little Bizarre, he's Josuke Araki!" The voice continued as a notably tall and muscular member took his place behind the middle podium with a wave and broad grin. There was more clapping and a few cheers this time.

"Currently being dragged onstage by my lovely assistant, it's my second favorite Lieutenant, Hiyori Sarugaki!" The voice continued as Hiyori was wrestled onstage and behind the third podium by Momo. The audience whooped and snickered at the spectacle.

"FUCK YOU, YOU FREAK!" Hiyori roared, flipping off the audience and the figure behind the final podium on the other side of the stage.

"I'm your host, ME! I've been here the whole time!" Grinned Shinji, dressed in a rather snappy three piece suit and holding a microphone. "WELCOME, all my lovely division members and Hiyori, to Tonight's Game! Now, you all know how to play, right?"

"Um. No. Sorry sir." Muttered Tenya as Josuke shook his head.

"You didn't tell us shit!" Hiyori growled.

"That's RIGHT!" Shinji's Cheshire Cat smile shined under the spotlights.

"You see, I wanted to get to know everyone in the 5th a little better, and there is nothing quite like a game show to get people to reveal some truly startling sides of themselves, but playing the same game over and over would be boring! So, every night we play Tonight's Game, the game is a different game than last time, and the contestants will all start with blank slates!" He explained, entirely too pleased with himself. "So- the only way to win is by learning, the only way to learn is by playing, and the only way to begin is by beginning, so without further ado- Momo, will you please bring out THE LIE DETECTOR."

The small curtains at the back of the stage opened, and Momo rolled out a cart with a strange device covered in dials and switches with a long antenna and a large lightbulb on top.

"Thank you Momo! Now, the clever bastards in the 12th whipped this up for me so I have absolutely no idea how it actually works, but I am assured this is the latest cutting-edge in Veracity Technology. Let's turn it on and try it out! Tenya-!"

"Yes, sir!" Tenya snapped to attention. "No need to be formal, I'm only your host, not your captain right now." Shinji waved. "Tell me Tenya- Do you have any children?"

"I- Um, my wife and I have three children, two little boys and our infant daughter?" He stammered, confused.

DING! The Device charmed, light bulb lighting up bright green.

"That is CORRECT!" Shinji grinned. "You get a point!"

There was another chime as the screen on the front of Tenya's Podium lit up and displayed a "1".

"Oh, I see!" Laughed Tenya.

"Josuke!" called Shinji.

"Capt- Host?" Josuke stopped mid-salute.

"Very good! Tell me Josuke, do you live in the barracks?" Shinji asked with genuine interest.

"Uh, no. I live with my Mom." Josuke shook his head.

DING! Said the device.

"That is Correct!" Shinji nodded approvingly. "You get a point as well!"

"Oh, so, every time we tell the truth, we get a point?" Asked Josuke.

"Very quick on the uptake my friend!" Shinji winked. "Of course, as the game goes on, the questions are going to get much harder to answer Truthfully..."

Oooooooh! Gasped the audience, invested now.

"What happens if we lie?" Wondered Tenya.

"Even if we did- how would he fucking know?" Hiyori rolled her eyes.

"You can try it and find out!" Shinji grinned with more than a hint of Menace. "Hiyori! It's your turn!"

"Ugh. What?" She groaned.

"Tell me, When is my birthday?" Asked Shinji.

"I don't know and I don't care." She smirked, sticking her tongue out at him.

BZZRK! The Device buzzed angrily, and the light flashed red. OHH! laughed the audience.

"What the FUCK?" Yelped Hiyori.

"Ooh!" Shinji winced, thoroughly enjoying himself. "I'm afraid that is INCORRECT! According to the screen back here, you spent the better part of THREE MONTHS tracking down a specific part to repair my sound system and traveled halfway across the planet to deliver it personally to me on my birthday. So not only do you know, you DO care, and for that I'm afraid I'm going to have to dock you two points."

Hiyori's screen lit up and displayed a "-2"

"WHAT THE HELL?" Hiyori wailed. "You didn't even see me when I gave you that Banana Plug or whatever-!"

"I did not!" Shinji grinned. "-but The Device knows, and is infallible!" "That's terrifying!" Tenya laughed nervously. "Alright contestants, the questions are going to get harder now, so consider your answers to them carefully." Shinji warned, a finger up to his lips. "Contestants- does any of your underwear have holes in it?"

"...Can we refuse to answer on the grounds it might get us in trouble?" asked Josuke.

"Yes! But you won't get any points for that round, and you may not win our Lovely Prize this week. Speaking of- Momo! Will you please show our contestants what they're playing for this week?"

Momo emerged from backstage with a large, blank sign, which she turned over and held over her head for all to see.

AN EXTRA WEEK OF PAID VACATION

OHHH! exclaimed the audience, with a few audible mutters of Damn, a whole week? and How do you get on this show?.

"ALL MY UNDERWEAR HAS GOT HOLES IN IT!" Shouted Josuke, now with heavily-motivated enthusiasm. Laughter exploded out of the audience, thoroughly entertained.

DING! chimed the device, and the score on Josuke's podium went up.

"Josuke taking an early and shameless lead!" Beamed Shinji, delighted that his plan was working. "Tenya?"

"I-ah, I don't think so?" Tenya blushed. "I bathe the kids and get them ready for bed while my wife does the laundry." He tried to explain.

BZZRK! The Device contested, red light flashing and the audience howled with laughter.

"Uh-oh, that's Not Correct!" Grinned Shinji. "According to the device, a significant amount of your clothes have holes in them, and you don't notice because you get dressed in the dark. You didn't outright lie though, so you will only not get a point instead of a deduction."

"WHAT?" Yelped Hiyori, outraged.

"Yeah, that's fair." Tenya winced. "Seriously though- where does this thing get it's information from?"

"...Hiyori?" Shinji leered playfully at his lieutenant.

"Yeah, it's all got holes. They come that way- Two for my legs and one for my torso." Hiyori snarled.

DING! agreed The Device.

"That is *technically* correct, which is the BEST kind of correct! You get a point!" Shinji cheered, and so did the audience.

"FINALLY!" She shouted, but her eyes narrowed with competitive enthusiasm.

---

The game continued for an hour, with a mix of group and solo questions, but equal chances to score points awarded to all contestants. Josuke was shameless but ill-informed, causing him to fail several rounds, Tenya was honest even as his face flushed red and he crumpled behind his Podium. Hiyori did her best to be only as honest as she had to be, and as the game continued, they came to a three-way tie.

"Before we begin the final round-" Shinji said, intoning a gentle sincerity. "Contestants, you've been so honest with me. Like. Alarmingly Honest with me. So I need to be honest with you- I do know how The Lie Detector works."

There was a scandalized gasp from all three contestants and the audience.

"Okay- I *sort of* know how The Device works." Shinji admitted. "I don't know what 'Wiffy' is-"

"YOU MEAN THE FUCKING WI-FI?" Howled Hiyori.

"Oh, like you know how it works!" Shinji glared.

"It's using a radio frequency to transmit Data instead of an electrical pulses like internet usually does." She scoffed. "-AND I KNOW HOW TO PRONOUNCE IT!"

Shinji glared. "...I should deduct a point from you for insubordination."

"You can't do that, you're the Host, not the Captain!" Said Josuke cheerfully.

"Yeah, unless Host is a Military rank, it's arguing, not insubordination."

DING! Agreed The Device.

"DON'T GANG UP ON ME!" Shinji wailed. "Fine, fine. Anyway, I might not know how Why-Figh works, but I *DO* know how the device knows if you're lying or not. Would my Lovely Assistants please come to the stage?"

Momo emerged from backstage, wearing a labcoat and holding another device with an antenna that matched the Lie Detector, followed by a middle aged woman holding a Baby, an older woman, and Mashiro Kuna.

"Akkiko?" Tenya yelped, and his wife laughed manically.

"MOM??" Wailed Josuke.

"MASHIRO??" Hiyori bellowed, jumping up onto her Podium. "YOU SOLD ME OUT?!"

"FOR A BAG OF CORN CHIPS!" Mashiro cackled.

"YOU DIDN'T EVEN PAY HER?!" Hiyori howled at Shinji.

"She was gonna do it for free! I talked her UP to a bag of corn chips!" Shinji protested. "But YES! You've all been deceived! Hoodwinked!Bamboozled, even! Which brings us to our Final Question!"

The crowd roared with excitement.

"I started this game because I wanted to get to know everyone better- but I have to ask, how well do YOU know each other, and so I must ask you all if you know these people as well as they know you?"

There was a loud OOOH! of intrigue from the audience.

"Just to make it extra-exciting, all of these questions will be worth up to three points!" Shinji grinned, then slowly turned to the first Podium. "Tenya."

"Oh god." Tenya laughed nervously.

"Your lovely wife. You've been married for ten year now, so you theoretically know what she looks like, right?" Shinji teased. "So, for a potential three points and week of paid vacation- Do you know what color Akkiko's eyes are?"

Akkiko giggled, turning around as Tenya leaned as far forward on his Podium and squinted at her. With a deep sigh, he slumped over the podium in defeat.

"...I do not." He groaned and Akkiko cackled.

"That is CORRECT!" Shinji cheered.

"I'm not good with colors." Tenya tried to explain. "-this morning I actually asked her what color MY eyes are."

"YES! That's what I was waiting to hear!" Shinji shouted, pumping his fist in the air. "All three points!"

The audience cheered loudly.

Shinji turned to the next contestant. "Josuke."

"Oh no." Josuke giggled.

"What is your mother's favorite food?" Shinji asked.

Josuke stared blankly.

"SURELY you are not living in your mother's house and NOT COOKING FOR HER, are you?" Shinji asked with no small amount of menace.

"You're never going to get married if you can't cook!" Tenya nodded in agreement.

"I COOK!" Josuke protested. "...sometimes." he added, cringing.

"-So. What do you make for your beloved mother, who works so hard taking care of her adult son?" Shinji teased.

"LOTSA STUFF THAT'S WHY I DON'T KNOW!" Josuke wailed. "I COOK KATSUDON, I COOK RAMEN, I COOK CURRY, I COOK OMURICE- I EVEN LEARNED HOW TO COOK WESTERN FOODS LIKE LASAGNA AND CHILLI CHEESE DOG-! DING! Went the device, Josuke's mother holding the radio.

"Was your favorite in there Mrs. Akari?"

"Yes! I like Chili Cheese Dog." She smiled. "I always eat seconds!"

"YOU ALWAYS EAT SECONDS OF EVERYTHING I COOK I DON'T KNOW WHICH ONE YOU LIKE THE MOST!" Josuke wailed.

"That is also true! He is a very good cook! And single!" She nodded up at Shinji.

"-And he's single!" Shinji grinned at the audience, some of whom whistled back. "Three points, for your culinary skills! Which means we have a Tie!"

The audience tittered with speculation and excitement.

"...Hiyori." Shinji grinned.

"You're a dead man as soon as you sign off on my vacation time." She glared.

"I mean, I can end the game right now." Shinji wagged his finger at her. "-But I can't resist the opportunity to humliate you. Now, You and Mashiro have been living under the same roof for longer than Josuke and Tenya have been alive, so to be fair to them, I'll ask you about someone you've met more recently but should still know pretty well-"

Hiyori squinted at him.

"-What is Momo's Favorite Animal?"

"What?" Hiyori laughed. "-Everyone knows it's Penguins!"

"Really?" asked Josuke. "I didn't know that."

"Yeah, I didn't know that either and I've served under her for decades now!" Said Tenya.

"What? How do you guys NOT know that?" Demanded Hiyori. "Her phone background is a Rockhopper Penguin, she's got a Fairy penguin squeeze toy in her desk for really long phone calls and she's always talking about wanting to go to the Tokyo aquarium in the living world to see them in person! She's even got a HUGE collection of penguin plushies in her r-" DINGDINGDINGDINGSING!! rang the Machine as Momo furiously pressed the button, face red as a beet.

"Wow!" Shinji smiled. "I'm surprised! You seem to know Miss Hinamori really well!"

"Uh, duh? We're colleagues." Hiyori rolled her eyes.

Momo sighed with relief.

"Interesting! Follow-up question- What's Mashiro's surname?" Shinji asked.

Hiyori blinked. "...uhhhhhhhh..."

"You heard Kensei yell it at least six times a day for the last century you jackass!" Laughed Mashiro.

"UHHHHH..." Hiyori paled, and the audience roared with laughter.

"Hmm... I seem to remember you pretending you didn't care about my birthday, and yet, you do- For you to remember her favorite animal and in such detail, Momo must be VERY IMPORTANT to you!"

The audience giggled Momo turned scarlet again and slowly crumpled into a ball. Mashiro vibrated with excitement beside her.

"Yeah?" Hiyori glared at Shinji. "She's the smartest person in the whole damn division and does half your job for you? If I win, I'm giving the week off to her just to watch you flail around without her! No wait- I'll set up the webcam and we can split the week off, go to the aquarium AND watch Shinji squirm like a worm an a-! Uh? Momo? You okay there?" She asked, finally noticing Momo laying on the floor, borderline catatonic with embarrassment.

"This is FASCINATNG!" Shinji grinned. "You are apparently so immune to embarrassment that you have somehow made it bounce off you and target Momo!"

"What's to be embarrassed about? I like her okay?" Hiyori blinked. "She's great! I wanna work with her forever!"

Shinji leaned forward on his elbows, chin in his hands and stared at Hiyori, positively vibrating with excitement.

"What?" She glared.

"You are. SO CLOSE. To comprehending something." He said, wide-eyed and delighted. "It's fascinating to see someone on the precipice like this."

Hiyori stared blankly at him. clueless.

"So you like Momo. We've established that." Shinji said, attempting to throw her a bone. "H- how do you think Momo feels about you?" Hiyori slowly lowered her gaze to Momo. The entire audience watched in hushed fascination as Hiyori frowned at the situation, thinking hard-

"...Momo?" Hiyori's voice was suddenly nervous. "Do you- have I just been annoying you? Becuase I can stop-"

Momo Hinamori was abruptly on her feet, crouched atop the Podium, fists balled in the front of Hiyori's shushako, pulling the blonde's face up so it was mere inches from hers. "HIYORI SARUGAKI YOU ARE THE MOST INFURIATING WOMAN IN THE UNIVERSE!"

"Fuck!" Hiyori yelped. "I'm really sorry, I'll- I'll leave you alo-"

"I'LL TELL YOU WHAT YOU'RE GOING TO DO, MISSY!" Momo continued, grabbing Hiyori's face. "YOU'RE WINNING THIS GAME, YOU'RE SPLITTING THE WEEK OFF WITH ME, YOU ARE GETTING A HOTEL IN THE LIVING WORLD AND THEN *I* AM GOING TO-'

In the videotape of the game that mysteriously appeared in the ninth division later that week, the next forty-seven seconds of sound had been obscured by a single, loud, continuous "BLEEEEEEEEEEEEP!" sound, but Mashiro was visibly looking up some of the terms being shouted on her phone, Josuke's mother sprinted up to cover her son's ears to no avail, Akkiko was pointing between herself and Tenya with excitement, and Shinji's jaw fell so far open it looked like it had become unhinged from his skull.

"-AND IF EITHER OF US CAN WALK IN THE MORNING, THEN WE'RE GONNA GO SEE SOME PENGUINS!" Momo finished, staring Hiyori down with a terrifying blend of romantic fury and bloodthirsty lust.

Hiyori stared up, wide-eyed and expressionless, face clearly offline as she underwent several psychological and spiritual awakenings before her she slowly broke into a slow, stupefied grin "Oh you like-like me!"

"...Yes." Momo sighed, deeply pained and affectionate at once as the audience howled. "You're okay with... all that?"

Hiyori saluted Momo with an enthusiastic "-Yes, SIR!"

"NOW THAT'S WHAT I'M FUCKING TALKIN' ABOUT!" Shinji whooped with joy, jumping up and down, the audience on their feet with applause. "POINTS AND VACATIONS ALL AROUND, AND FOR BEING THE *MOST* HONEST, THE WINNER OF TONIGHT'S GAME IS MOMO HINAMORI!"

The audience cheered wildly as Momo scooped Hiyori up like a princess and carried her backstage.

"THAT'S IT FOR TONIGHT'S GAME!" called Shinji over the din. "GOODNIGHT EVERYONE, AND GOOD FUCKING LUCK!"

---

As for Jushiro Ukitake, he appears on a special guest episode of Tonight's Game with fellow Captains Soi Fon, Byakuya Kuchiki and Retsu Unohana to play "Never Have I Ever" and *that* episode is widely considered to be one of the most scandalous and unhinged of all the games on Tonight's Game.

#AEIWAM #An Elephant Is Warm And Mushy #Bleach #Bleach Fanfic #Shinji hirako #momo hinamori #hiyori sarugaki #jushiro ukitake #(well he get mentioned at the end)#Long post #I've been watching a lot of Game Changer and I occured to me that Shinji and Sam Reich have a lot in common #for those of who don't watch Game Changer: This is a parody of the second episode

495 notes · View notes

domm1etae · 2 months ago

Text

sooo, you got a boyfriend?

san x wooyoung

oneshot | mdni

1.3k

San surprises Wooyoung by showing up in a costume that he wanted him to wear

nsfw tags under

m/m, dom san, boyfriends!woosan, sub woo, ghostface, costume

author's note: ik it is not halloween anymore buuuut i found this in my drafts and had to share it

Wooyoung had never been the biggest fan of Halloween parties. While he adored the spooky season itself—the eerie atmosphere, the creative costumes, and the thrill of it all—he'd never felt at ease in loud, crowded parties. Instead, he typically opted for quiet evenings at home with close friends, by himself, or with his boyfriend, San.

One thing Wooyoung did enjoy was dressing up. Every Halloween, he’d throw a small gathering with a few of his friends—just three or four people—and they’d show off their costumes. Despite his love for costumes, there was one thing that always disappointed him: San’s stubborn refusal to dress up. Unlike Wooyoung, who reveled in the chance to be creative, San never participated in the fun.

And it drove Wooyoung crazy.

“You could wear literally anything, and I’d love it,” Wooyoung complained one night. “You could even dress up as a traffic cone, and I’d find it adorable.”

“Wooyoung,” San sighed, his lips curving into a soft smile. He tried to remain firm, but the sight of his boyfriend pouting against his neck, placing soft kisses along his jaw, made it difficult. “You know I’m not into dressing up.”

“But just this once? For me?” Wooyoung pleaded, his voice sugary sweet as he squeezed San’s hand in his lap. “I already know the perfect costume for you.”

San raised an eyebrow, intrigued despite himself. “And what would that be?”

“Ghostface,” Wooyoung answered with an excited gleam in his eye.

“Ghostface?” San frowned, his confusion evident. “Isn’t he, like, a murderer?”

“Don’t look at me like that!” Wooyoung giggled, swatting his boyfriend’s shoulder. “He’s hot!”

San chuckled at Wooyoung’s audacity, but his resolve was already wavering. After a moment, he sighed. “Fine. I’ll do it.”

Wooyoung’s reaction was immediate and ecstatic. He squealed with delight, pulling San in for a flurry of kisses. “I love you! I love you! I love you!”

San laughed, pretending to push Wooyoung away, though his own cheeks burned from the attention. “Alright, alright. You win.”

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

As October 30th rolled around, San found himself doing something he never thought he’d do: researching Ghostface. From character lore to the bizarre attraction people had to the masked killer, he dove into the internet’s obsession with him. The more he learned, the more curious he became. If Wooyoung found Ghostface that attractive, did that mean he’d be into… other things?

San decided to find out.

That evening, he returned home with the Ghostface costume tucked discreetly in his gym bag. “I’m back!” he called out as he entered their shared apartment.

Wooyoung, who was cooking tteokbokki in the kitchen, bounded over to greet him. “Hey, baby!” he chirped, throwing his arms around San’s neck and planting a kiss on his lips. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” San murmured, squeezing Wooyoung’s waist. “I’m gonna shower real quick, okay?”

Wooyoung nodded, watching him disappear into the bathroom. Little did he know, San had other plans. After a quick rinse, San slipped into the Ghostface costume, leaving the mask for last. He hesitated as he held it in his hands, chuckling at how ridiculous he felt. But when he glanced at himself in the mirror, dressed in the iconic black robe, he understood the appeal.

He grabbed the mask and headed to the kitchen, where Wooyoung was obliviously finishing up their meal. San tapped the wall twice, catching Wooyoung’s attention.

“San, you scared me—” Wooyoung started to say but froze when he turned around. His eyes widened as they took in the sight before him: San, standing in the doorway, fully dressed as Ghostface.

Wooyoung’s jaw dropped. “Oh my God,” he whispered, his voice trembling with excitement. “You actually did it.”

San tilted his head, his voice low and playful. “What’s the matter? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Wooyoung giggled nervously as San strode toward him, the black robe swishing with each step. “I thought you weren’t serious about it since we never brought it up again,” Wooyoung admitted, his cheeks flushed.

San’s hands found their way to Wooyoung’s waist, pulling him close. “You begged me for it. How could I say no?”

Wooyoung’s breath hitched as he clung to San’s shoulders. “You—you look amazing,” he stammered. “I love it.”

San smirked behind the mask, leaning down until their faces were inches apart. “You got a boyfriend?” he asked, his tone mimicking Ghostface’s infamous line.

“Why? You wanna ask me out on a date?” Wooyoung played along, his voice shaky with anticipation.

“Maybe. Do you?”

“No,” Wooyoung replied coyly, his hands sliding up to tangle in San’s hair.

San chuckled, his voice dropping to a seductive whisper. “Good. I wanna know who I’m about to ruin tonight.”

The tension between them snapped, and Wooyoung gasped as San lifted him onto the counter, the Ghostface mask still obscuring his face. The night had only just begun.

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

While they keep making out, San starts moving his hips again, slowly at first, but his pace quickly becomes erratic as his need intensifies. Wooyoung moans into San's mouth, their kisses growing sloppier with each thrust. The sound of skin meeting skin fills the room, accompanied by Wooyoung's gasps and San's deep groans.

San pulls back slightly to catch his breath, his hands tightening their hold on Wooyoung's wrists. “You feel so good, baby… so tight for me,” he murmurs, his voice laced with desperation. His eyes trail down to where their bodies connect, the sight of himself buried deep inside Wooyoung spurring him on.

“San…” Wooyoung moans, his back arching off the couch as San angles his hips to hit just the right spot. The sensation sends jolts of pleasure through him, and he clings to San's shoulders, his nails digging in lightly. “Faster… please.”

“Anything for you,” San growls, letting go of Wooyoung's wrists to grip his waist. He uses his hold to pull Wooyoung closer with each thrust, his movements rough and unrelenting. Wooyoung's head falls back, his eyes rolling shut as he gives himself over completely to the pleasure.

San leans down, his lips finding the sensitive spot on Wooyoung's neck, leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses and gentle bites. Wooyoung's breath hitches, his hands flying to San's hair as he pulls him even closer.

“San—ah, I’m gonna—” Wooyoung’s words are cut off by a loud cry as his release washes over him, his body trembling beneath San. The sight of Wooyoung unraveling beneath him pushes San over the edge.

“Fuck, Woo…” San groans, his hips stuttering as he finds his own release. He buries his face in Wooyoung's neck, his breaths coming out in ragged gasps as he rides out the high.

For a moment, the only sounds in the room are their heavy breathing and the faint rustling of the couch. San lifts his head to look at Wooyoung, his hair disheveled and a satisfied grin on his face. “You’re incredible, you know that?”

Wooyoung chuckles weakly, his cheeks flushed as he wraps his arms around San’s neck. “I could say the same about you.”

San presses a gentle kiss to Wooyoung’s forehead before leaning back to survey the mess they’ve made. “Guess we’ll have to clean up before dinner,” he teases, earning a playful slap on the chest from Wooyoung.

“Not before we cuddle,” Wooyoung says stubbornly, pulling San down onto the couch with him.

San laughs, relenting as he wraps an arm around Wooyoung and pulls him close. “Alright, but just for a bit. Can’t keep my chef waiting on that tteokbokki.”

Wooyoung hums contentedly, resting his head on San’s chest. “Fine. But only because you actually wore the costume for me.”

San smirks, his hand gently stroking Wooyoung’s hair. “Anything for you, baby. Even if it means becoming your ‘hot masked man.’”

The two of them dissolve into soft laughter, their hearts full as they bask in the warmth of each other’s presence.

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mssishipi · 20 days ago

Text

CHAPTER 1: mr. panties stealer - enhypen! heesung

PAIRING: broke! rookie panty stealer! heesung x reader, senior panty stealer! jake x reader

SYNOPSIS: When Heesung discovers his roommate Beomgyu's bizarre side hustle-stealing panties for cash in a campus-wide competition-he's appalled. But after hearing about the insane prize money, his moral compass wavers.

Overwhelmed by deadlines and broke from juggling classes and a café job, Heesung finally snaps. Armed with Beomgyu's tips and a growing desperation, Heesung sets out to grab the bag-and maybe a shred of dignity along the way.

warning on this chapter: profanities, explicit content (smut), unprotected sex

chapter two

The soft humming of Beomgyu pulled Heesung's focus from his laptop screen. His fingers paused mid-typing, and his brow furrowed as he glanced toward his roommate.

Beomgyu stood at the tiny dorm kitchenette, flipping something on the pan with way too much hip movement for someone cooking.

Heesung's eyes narrowed. Was that... a designer hoodie he was wearing?

He yanked out his AirPods and leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, silently observing. Beomgyu was smiling—smiling—like he'd just won the lottery.

Heesung's suspicions deepened when Beomgyu strolled over and dramatically placed a perfectly grilled steak in front of him, complete with garnish. A garnish!

"Eat up, bro! How's your business plan going?" Beomgyu asked as he dropped into the chair across from Heesung. He even wiggled his eyebrows, looking far too pleased with himself.

Heesung stared at the steak, then back at Beomgyu. "What's this? Poison? Did you get a sugar daddy or something?"

Beomgyu snorted. "Relax. Just eat. You need the protein. You're looking kinda scrawny lately."

"Excuse me, I'm the one carrying this dorm on my back while you're out here buying steaks and flexing designer hoodies," Heesung shot back, shoving the plate away.

"Where is this money coming from? Did you get a promotion?" He asked.

Beomgyu hesitated, scratching the back of his neck. "Not exactly..."

Heesung's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean 'not exactly'? Are you doing something illegal? Selling stolen phones? Counterfeiting IDs?"

Beomgyu let out a nervous laugh, his hand twitching toward the steak knife. "Dude, no! Calm down."

Heesung wasn't buying it. He leaned closer, voice lowering. "Are you... selling drugs?"

"What? No!" Beomgyu hissed, slapping Heesung's hand away. "Why does your brain always go straight to crime? Do you think of me in that way?!"

"Because we've been broke for months and suddenly you're over there playing MasterChef with premium cuts of meat!" Heesung jabbed a finger at the steak. "My diet's been so good, I've gained four kilograms, Beomgyu. Four kilograms! Something's fishy."

Beomgyu groaned, dropping his head onto the table. "I swear, it's nothing bad."

"Then just tell me!" Heesung demanded. "Are you a cam boy? You've been extra cheerful. Did you get a bunch of rich ladies paying for shirtless livestreams?"

Beomgyu sat up, face red. "Hell no! Shut up, dumbass!" He flipped Heesung off before muttering, "But... fine. I'll tell you."

"Well?"

Beomgyu sighed deeply, like he was about to confess to a murder. "I've been making money... by stealing panties."

The room went dead silent.

"...Panties?" Heesung repeated, blinking in disbelief.

"Yes, panties. Underwear. Lingerie. Whatever you want to call it." Beomgyu leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling like a man questioning his life choices.

"There's this monthly competition. The 00 Sigma Liners run it. Whoever steals the most panties wins a huge cash prize."

Heesung's jaw dropped. "There's a competition for that?!"

Beomgyu shrugged. "And it pays well."

"Bro, you're committing theft! And for panties! What if you get caught? What if someone recognizes you?"

Beomgyu waved him off. "It's not a big deal. I'm fast, and no one ever suspects me. Plus, I've got a system."

Heesung stared, completely dumbfounded. "...A system?"

"Yeah." Beomgyu grinned smugly. "Turns out, laundry rooms on campus are prime territory. Easy access, no security cameras, and people forget about their stuff all the time."

"Used panties?" Heesung repeated, his voice laced with disbelief.

He grimaced, an image of Beomgyu stuffing a bunch of underwear into a duffel bag popping into his head. He physically shuddered. "That's... so gross, dude."

Beomgyu just shrugged, completely unbothered. "Money doesn't smell, bro."

Heesung gagged a little. "It probably does in this case." He squinted at his roommate. "Okay, fine. How much do you even make doing this... career path?"

Beomgyu smirked, leaning back in his chair like he was about to deliver the punchline to a joke. "Why? Thinking about joining the club?"

Heesung stiffened, turning back to his laptop in mock indignation. "Pfft, no. I'm just curious. Totally normal curiosity."

"Uh-huh," Beomgyu said, clearly unconvinced but letting it slide. "Anyway, it depends on how many you grab. Last time, I made 600 bucks."

Heesung's head snapped back toward him. "Six hundred dollars?! For panties?"

"Yup. But get this," Beomgyu continued, raising a finger, "Jake—you know Jake? The hot Australian dude?—he snagged 40 panties from the girls' dorm and made four thousand dollars. Four grand. Straight up." He let that sink in.

"And, bro, the competition's sponsored now. The 02 Alpha Liners are putting money behind it."

Heesung's jaw dropped. "Wait. There are sponsors for stealing underwear? What is this, the Panty Olympics?"

"Pretty much," Beomgyu said with a shrug. "But now it's trickier. Most of the girls are onto us, so it's getting harder. Locks on laundry room doors, hidden cameras, fake panties as traps... It's like Mission Impossible, but for underwear."

Heesung stared at his laptop, his business plan completely forgotten. A little voice in the back of his head whispered about all the things he could buy with $600. He pictured himself walking into the campus store and loading up on snacks, new clothes, maybe even upgrading his ancient laptop. Hell, 4,000 dollars? That was tuition and a trip to Jeju Island.

He glanced at Beomgyu, who was casually biting the steak like this whole thing was perfectly normal. "Four thousand, huh..."

Beomgyu smirked. "Told you. Don't knock it till you try it."

Heesung closed his laptop, deep in thought. "What's the... uh, strategy?"

"You are interested!" Beomgyu cackled, slapping the table.

"Fuck you! I want to earn 600 bucks too!" Heesung snapped, glaring. "How dare you keep this from me? If I'd known, I wouldn't have busted my ass at the café for chump change!"

Beomgyu raised his hands defensively. "Okay, okay! My bad! I'm just a rookie, alright? Three months in the game. But I'll teach you, bro. Don't worry."

"Damn right, you will." Heesung popped a piece of steak into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully.

The steak giving him just enough energy to imagine himself prowling the laundry rooms like a panty ninja. He could almost taste the $600 already. Maybe if he bagged 20, he could treat himself to a fancy massage at that spa he always passed by. Hell, if he hit Jake's 40-panty mark, he could upgrade his whole lifestyle.

He is definitely joining and gonna grab that bag.

- - - -

“Damn these fuckers,” you mutter, glaring at your laundry basket. Half your panties are missing—again.

“It’s the fucking competition!” Chaewon screams, slamming her fist onto the counter of the dorm laundry shop. “I thought you said your security was better than this! Do you know how much I spend on panties every month?”

The shop owner sighs, clearly tired of this conversation.

“Miss, we’ve done everything we can. The competition is out of our control. The university refuses to get involved, and the police don’t take it seriously. They think it’s just some harmless club activity.”

“Harmless?!” Wonyoung shrieks, waving her empty laundry bag like a flag of war. “How is stealing panties harmless? Get better locks! Or guards! Or something!”

“We tried new locks,” the owner says, rubbing his temples. “The participants broke them. We can’t afford to keep replacing them.”

“Then install CCTVs!” Karina yells, pointing accusingly at the ceiling. “Track those bastards and turn them in! If we can’t report them for theft, go for property damage! Think smarter!”

You smack your palm against your forehead, sighing. Everyone’s yelling, tensions are high, and yet here you are, missing half your underwear. Again.

“The 28th is coming,” Giselle whines, dabbing at her eyes with fake tears. “God knows how many of them will show up this time. My favorite VS lingerie is gone forever! The one my boyfriend loves so much…”

“Here we go,” you mutter, rolling your eyes.

“…and now I can’t even get the hard fucking I deserve when I wear them!” Giselle cries dramatically, slamming her fists on the counter.

“God, TMI!” you snap, covering your ears.

“Hey, it’s not TMI!” Giselle protests. “This is important! I have a life, you know!”

“I just want my panties back,” Wonyoung groans, clutching her bag. “What kind of psycho steals this much underwear?”

The owner sighs louder, rubbing his face. “Miss, it’s a competition. There’s prize money. People will do anything for cash.”

“Prize money?!” Wonyoung shrieks. “You’re telling me some perverts are getting paid to steal my stuff?! Where’s the justice in this world?”

“Forget justice,” Karina mutters, cracking her knuckles. “We need revenge.”

“I thought leaving our laundry in the dorm was safe!” Chaewon shouts, throwing her hands up. “But last time, there were three guys lurking around, probably hoping the laundry room would be empty!”

“Three guys in our dorm?” Wonyoung gasps, biting her nails. “What if they come back? God knows what else they’ll try to do!”

Karina slams her hands on the counter. “That’s it. We need to set a trap.”

Everyone freezes. Then slowly, heads begin to nod in agreement.

“A trap…” Giselle whispers. “To catch the perverts in the act. Expose them to the whole university!”

You stare at them, dumbfounded. “You do realize they’re already getting smarter, right? They know we’re aware of their stupid competition. If they catch even a whiff of a trap, they’ll just get sneakier.”

Karina turns to you, narrowing her eyes. “What’s your point, genius?”

“My point is, you’re dealing with people who’ve probably been planning this for weeks. You think a bunch of laundry-room heists happen without some kind of strategy?”

“They’re stealing panties,” Chaewon says flatly. “I don’t think they’re masterminds.”

“Yeah, but we don’t even know who’s participating,” Wonyoung chimes in, pacing nervously. “It could be anyone. Anyone! How are we supposed to catch them if we don’t know who they are?”

“It’s only boys, though, right?” Giselle asks, crossing her arms. “I heard someone say it’s all guys.”

“That’s the rumor,” Chaewon agrees. “But they’re good at hiding it. No one knows who’s actually in it.”

“So they’re sneaky and shameless,” Karina says with a scowl. “Great. That’s just what we need.”

“And let’s not forget,” Giselle cuts in, her voice dramatic, “the 28th is coming. The stakes are always higher at the end of the month.”

“Why does this sound like some Hunger Games bullshit?” you mutter, massaging your temples.

“Because it is,” Chaewon snaps. “But with underwear. Our underwear! And if we don’t do something, we’ll keep losing our stuff.”

Karina nods decisively. “We’ll need bait. A decoy pair of panties. Something irresistible.”

“Are you kidding me?” you ask, glaring at her.

“What?” she says defensively. “It’s a good plan!”

“It’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard,” you shoot back.

“No, it’s genius,” Giselle says, jumping in. “We lure them in, catch them red-handed, and BAM! Public humiliation!”

“Sure, if we don’t end up looking like idiots first,” you mutter, but no one’s listening anymore.

“Alright,” Karina declares. “Let’s get to work. We’re going to take those bastards down.”

You sigh, staring at the ceiling. This is going to end so badly.

“I’m going to get some fuck. This is stressing me out,” you say, throwing your hands up as you back away. Grabbing your laundry basket, you turn to leave.

Karina scoffs loudly, crossing her arms. “Are you even a girl’s girl? We’re literally planning a strategy to protect our panties, and you’re bailing on us?”

You shrug, pausing just long enough to glance back at her.

“I’m going to fuck and spy. I have a gut feeling about this,” you say, smirking as you turn away.

“You better get that dick and some information, girl!” Giselle shouts, raising her fist in support.

You throw her a mock salute before fully turning on your heel and walking out.

“Fuck, baby, yes!” Jake’s hips stutter, his grip on your hair tightening as you feel the familiar spurt of liquid hit your tongue.

You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, a sly grin forming as you push him back onto the bed. Sliding onto his lap, you straddle him, feeling his body tense beneath you.

“Jake, miss me?” you whisper, grinding yourself against his oversensitive cock, teasing him further.

“Yes, baby, miss you so much—ohhh, fuck, I’m sensitive!” he whines, his hands gripping your hips hard enough to leave marks.

You chuckle, your lips brushing against the corner of his mouth.

“Did you see my panties? The green ones I wore last time we fucked?” you ask, your voice low and teasing as you slide him inside, a soft moan escaping both of you.

“Hmm, I don’t think so, baby,” he says, gripping your waist tightly as you start moving, slow and deliberate, feeling his breath hitch beneath you.

“What about the pink ones? The lacey pair you said you liked? A bunch of my panties are missing lately.”

His hands tighten on your waist, but his face remains neutral. “Missing? Nah, baby, I don’t know anything about that.”

You lean in, your lips grazing his jawline as you trail soft kisses along his neck. “You sure? You don’t know anything?”

His laughter comes out nervous, almost forced. “Why would I?”

“Are you stealing my panties, baby?” you ask dumbly, your pace quickening as you move on top of him.

“Ah! Fuck, no, baby! Why would I steal your panties?” he groans, gripping your hips as his thrusts meet yours.

“I don’t know,” you murmur, your tone teasing. “Maybe it’s a kink or something.”

He angles his thrusts perfectly, pulling a loud moan from you. “A kink?” he chuckles breathlessly, his hand sliding to your neck. “What do you think I am? A panty thief?”

“Maybe,” you tease, biting your lip as you ride him faster, his hands guiding your hips firmly. “You’ve heard about that dumb competition, haven’t you?”

His movements falter slightly, just enough to catch your attention.

“What competition, baby?” he asks, his voice low as his mouth moves to your chest, sucking and nibbling your nipples making you gasp.

"Hmm," you moaned, threading your fingers through his hair. "You sure you don't know? Some boys' competition... stealing panties for money?"

He groans, his teeth grazing your skin before pulling back. “Why would I need to steal, baby? You’d give me yours if I asked, wouldn’t you?”

“Depends,” you murmur, your hips grinding harder. “What if you were doing it for the prize?”

He laughs shakily, his hands gripping your waist tighter. “Prize, huh? Sounds like something desperate guys would do.”

You catch the flicker of something in his eyes before he kisses you, thrusting harder, scattering your thoughts.

“You’re dodging,” you whisper against his lips, your voice unsteady as he moves with relentless rhythm.

“Not dodging. Just focusing on more important things,” he says, flipping you onto your back, his cock driving into you faster, pulling loud cries from your throat.

Pleasure ripples through you, your body arching beneath him as his hand finds your clit, circling it perfectly. The tension snaps, and you cry out, thighs trembling around him as you lose yourself.

“Fuck, baby, so tight. G-gonna cum!" Jake groans, his pace faltering as he reaches his release, his grip firm as he gasps, spilling inside you.

When the heat subsides, you collapse back against the bed, Jake pulling you close. His lips brush your shoulder as his fingers trace lazy patterns along your side.

“You know,” he murmurs, his tone teasing, “I’ll just buy you new panties if you’re so worked up about the missing ones.”

You freeze for a moment before forcing a lazy laugh. “Missing? I just said they were like misplaced.”

Jake smirks, that maddeningly cocky grin tugging at his lips. “Same difference, right? They’re gone, baby. Doesn’t matter why.”

His hand drifts to your thigh, squeezing lightly. You trace his chest with your fingers, your mind racing.

“Do you know your favorite red ones? They’re gone too,” you say, sighing with feigned frustration as you lean back.

Jake raises an eyebrow. “Why would they do that?”

You let out an exaggerated groan. “I don’t know! Maybe it’s some dumb power move or a competition. Either way, it’s disgusting.”

“My red ones were my favorite. The ones with the bow? Gone,” you add, watching his expression.

Jake chuckles nervously, his fingers twitching slightly on your waist. “Your favorite red ones, huh? That’s... really too bad.”

“Yeah,” you hum. “Apparently, it’s all for some competition. Karina swears it’s a thing. Points, cash, whatever.”

Jake stiffens briefly before forcing a grin. “Competition? That sounds made-up. Who’d waste their time on something like that?”

“That’s what I said,” you murmur, dragging your fingers slowly across his chest.

Jake laughs again, but it’s tight. “People are crazy. What would they even do with them?”

You shrugged, keeping your tone light. "I have no idea. Probably keep them as trophies, or sell them, or..." you paused, pretending to think. "...burn them in some weird ritual."

Jake snorted, shaking his head. "They don't sell them. Burn them? Nah, that'd be stupid."

You stilled, hand pausing on his chest. "Oh? Then what do they do with them?"

Jake blinked, realizing what he'd said, but his grin quickly returned. "I don't know! I'm just saying, if they went through all that trouble, burning them would be a waste, right?"

"Hmm." you hummed thoughtfully, shifting closer. "So you do know something about it?"

Jake's smirk faltered for the briefest second before he let out a laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. "No, babe. Come on, I'm just making guesses here. Like I said, people are crazy."

"Right." you rolled onto your back with a sigh, pretending to let it go. "Still, it's creepy. And no one's getting their stuff back. You'd think, if they weren't total cowards, they'd just admit it—or at least return the panties."

Jake chuckled nervously, shifting beside me. "Or, you know... maybe they're waiting for the right time to give them back. Like after the 28th or something."

You froze. Realizing that you never said anything to him about the 28th.

"The 28th?" you repeated slowly, sitting up slightly to look at him.

His eyes widened, but he quickly covered it with a sheepish grin, pulling you back down beside him. "I'm just talking, babe. Forget it. You're thinking way too hard about this."

Your heart raced, suspicious with his statement, though you kept your face neutral, your voice soft. "Oh, I don't know. You sound like you know a lot about it for someone who doesn't care."

Jake kissed you, his lips warm and insistent as his hands roamed over your body, trying to shift the mood. "Babe, I care about one thing right now, and it's you."

His hands slid upward, squeezing your chest as his lips traveled down to your neck.

You got him.

#enhypen #heesung #heesung smut #jake smut #enhypen fanfic #heesung x reader #beomgyu #jake x reader #enhypen fic #heesung enhypen

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auroreliis · 1 year ago

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Batfam would have to do research on my special interests if they want to win me over fast but also the thought of super serious Bruce and Damian watching/reading jojos bizarre adventure is really funny to me

Absolutely they would. For you, they would binge every show, play every game and read every paragraph of a book just to have something in common with you. They would all do it for different reasons, but in the end, you would have to listen to them outnerd you.

Bruce's regard for your interests is wholesome. He genuinely wants to know what makes you happy, what you do in your free time, what you could talk about for hours. In order to be able to listen to you talk for hours, he surrounds himself with your interests. You like this artist? He buys a few of their most popular albums. This game is entertaining to you? He either tries it out or watches you play it. There's this film you're excited about? He watches it with you.

Although most of your interests are different, he does actually find himself enjoying anything you enjoy. Perhaps it reminds him of you.

Dick has this one fear. He believes that no matter how persistent he is, if you aren't reciprocating his clinginess, the two of you will grow apart eventually, so he never leaves you alone, even when you beg him to. It isn't really a secret, as he makes it quite obvious, but he hopes you will one day embrace him as he embraces you. You probably get sick of him and tell him how boring he is, which shatters his heart completely.

Now he has to figure out a way to spend time with you, but he needs to make sure you are also enjoying his company, lest you hurt him with your cruelty once more, so he researches every last fact about your interests, be it an activity, a game, a book, a person, he knows everything about it. Dick doesn't want to make it obvious that he only found out this information the night prior, so he cautiously needs to start a conversation.

He most likely waits until you are occupied with your interest before walking up to you, "Hey, is that _____? Wow, I used to be obsessed with it as a kid, I'm suprised you even know it, it isn't that popular and it's quite old." He pats your head and sits down next to you, grinning as you start rambling about it to him. You are actually talking to him. It worked.

Jason is careful when sharing his interests with you. He needs to preserve his reputation as your cool older brother and usually people don't share his interests, so when he finds you reading a classic book, he seats himself nearby, waiting for you to finish reading. Once you're done, he makes sure you enjoyed the book before fanboying about it. You immediately notice how much of a nerd he is. He also recommends similar books or ones he thinks you would enjoy as well. In the end he pulls you into so many fandoms that you stop listening when he recommends books. You've already got like 40 more to read.

Tim does not have this problem. The moment he knew you existed, he educated himself and has kept up with your interests ever since. "Just in case", or ,"Just because", he said, typing a summary of JoJo's Bizarre Adventure. "I might as well", he takes notes while binging One Piece. This guy is clinically insane. Fortunately for him, he can now start conversations with you very easily, since he knows everything about your interests (and everything else about you).

Side note: If you refuse to spend time with him even after he did all that for you, the following outcomes are possible:

Either you pity him and spend time with him or Dick tries and fails to guilt trip you, only to end up forcing you to spend time with poor Tim who was awake for a whole week just to impress you (Tim frantically nods along with anything Dick says).

Damian takes great pride in having things in common with you, so as soon as he notices you being fond of something, he surrounds himself with it. You have a favourite colour? He creates a few painting with specifically that colour. You like a certain animal? He will try to adopt one. Damian would, of course, never admit it to you, but he desperately wants you to notice that you two have similar interests (As in, you have an interest and he pretends to also like it just so you maybe talk to him).

If you don't talk to him, he will become more aggressive with his attempts of having you notice him, perhaps randomly coming into your room to paint, claiming that the lighting there is better. Or he asks Bruce to adopt a certain animal during dinner. His attempts are obvious to you, but he doesn't know that.

Cassandra wouldn't really need to share interests with you. She's always close to you anyway. While she does speak to you every now and then, she is perfectly comfortable with sitting in your proximity in silence. However, if you ever asked her to, she would research anything you need her to in order to rant or ramble to her. As long as she has her eyes on you, anything is fine.

Stephanie immediately goes to Tim for help, knowing that he went insane and made a bunch of summaries and notes. First, she makes fun of him, then she apologises, because he threatened to take the notes away, she then complains about how much there is to read before finishing the essays Tim wrote, giving herself about a week. Steph then talks to you as if she didn't go through all that trouble just to have a topic to talk to you about.

Dick told Barbara all about his shenanigans. She even helped him figure out what you're interested in, even researching about it herself. She isn't as intrusive as the others, instead waiting until the moment is right, not wanting to scare you away or overwhelm you. Perhaps if you're alone, she'll come up to you and start with small talk, only really mentioning your special interest if it's involved somehow. Overall, she is the least feral of the bunch (in this situation, at least).

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ashprompts · 9 months ago

Text

𝐆𝐀𝐌𝐄 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒

a collection of sentence starters from dropout tv's game changer. feel free to alter pronouns/text as you see fit

“I’ve been here THE WHOLE TIME”

“It’s hard to hold this much anger in my body.”

“If you never hear from me again, you know what to do!.”

“If they don’t find me it’s because I was chopped up and fed to the pigs!”

“I SOLVED YOUR LABYRINTH, PUZZLEMASTER. THE MINOTAUR’S ESCAPED, AND YOU’RE GONNA GET THE HORNS, BUDDY”

“I. CANNOT. WIN!!!!”

“A lot of people have been saying that ___ is a singularly evil, wildly incompetent, befuddled nepo baby silver spoon motherfucker. This is what people are saying.”

“If you can do ONE swing on the swing I will let you play with all the math puzzles that you want”

“You’re not getting a FUCKING JOKE OUT OF ME until you let me out of this room! You want bits?! You let me out of this room for bits, motherfucker!”

“Are we gonna die before we get outta here?”

“I’m gonna lose so fucking hard it’s gonna blow your fucking mind”

“But in this sick rodeo, this bizarre fucked up clown festival, we’re here celebrating what I can only describe as the sickness at the core of America.”

“Give me the assignment and I don’t miss. I’m gonna DIE before this is over.”

“Your tower’s gonna fall. Laugh it up now.”

“A river of sweat is running down my back right now.”

“I do hate zombies and I will have nightmares about this tonight. But in this moment I just feel like I’m surrounded by friends.”

“We don’t give a cum.”

“If you’re in a hole, DYING. I WON’T BE THERE.”

“I showed them my feet, [name]! I SHOWED THEM MY FEET FOR NOTHING?”

“Stop shaking your cock in the middle of a fucking huddle, dude!”

“I’d fuck that pie.”

“If you’re like me, you eat a lot of ass.”

“I hate capitalism but I also hate losing.”

“I get my tongue so far up somebody it’s like I’m tasting their tonsils. I get so deep in there I’m gonna burn myself with stomach acid.”

“I like perching like a little bisexual gargoyle”

“If you were performing on a subway I would take money away from you.”

“I’VE ONLY JUST BEGUN TO PULL THE THREAD ON THIS SWEATER.”

“Icarus flying too close to the sun, but it seems Daedalus our little mastercrafter over here had some WAX WINGS OF HIS OWN, didn’t he? Wanted to see his son fall, faaaalll from the sky, OH HOW CLOSE TO THE SUN HE FLEW”

“Hey can I get an ah? … Don’t scream at me.”

“You kinda have the vibe that your kids call you by your first name.”

“The day I DON’T curse when a body falls from the sky, call somebody.”

“Could I place an order? I’m hungie. What do you think would be the best pizza to order if I’m quite hungie? Um, I like cheese, what is your largest pizza? Yeah let’s get an extra large because I’m hungie. I’m hungie, I’m hungie, I’m hungie.”

“WE ARE NOT ANIMALS!!!”

“So long as I am on this stage and drawing breath, you can good and goddamn believe I’ll be trying my best in every challenge.”

“Was it bad that we just started smashing shit?”

“You didn't count on INGENUITY did you motherfucker?!”

“FIGHT THE BOURGEOISIE. I WILL VENMO YOU $20.”

“This could be hell. This is very Satre-esque.”

“YOU ARE NOT GOD. THE MACHINE IS GOD.”

“Can you tell us why you’d do this to us?”

“I won’t be made a fool”

“I do feel like I’m in a nightmare”

“I’m the only one OUT of the loop it seems”

“Everybody do the wenis! The wenis is a dance! Everybody is a genius! Who knows it in advance!”

"DANCE IS A SIN!"

"You think I'm gonna fucking roll over?!"

"It'll be a COLD DAY IN HELL when I go out like a fucking chump!"

"I don't care about winning, I just don't wanna lose"

#rp memes #rp meme #rp prompts #roleplay memes #roleplay meme #roleplay starters #ask memes #ask meme #rp sentence starters #rp sentence meme #sentence prompts #sentence starters #game changer rp meme #dropout rp meme

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kaeichi · 11 months ago

Text

mixed drinks, mixed feelings.

[wc: 1.9k] ex fwb! gojo. sfw. angst. alcoholism. hurt/no comfort. you and gojo are teachers at jujutsu tech.

“hey, gojo?”

“...”

gojo hates drinking.

you're not sure who this imposter is—this slumped figure who is currently hunched over the sticky countertop, tangled white hair sprawled messily against the dark sleeves of his arms, accompanied by four almost-empty shot glasses nearby. no, the man you know has never even taken more than a couple sips when the staff goes out for drinks after work hours, nor could he barely tolerate the smell without gagging, his beautiful face contorted almost comically into unequivocal disgust, so whoever this is in front of you couldn't possibly be him.

around an hour ago, the crew decided to head over to the nearest izakaya to celebrate nanami’s newest promotion at his job. he may have left jujutsu tech a long time ago, but he remained close friends with everyone nonetheless. it was only after multiple rounds of drinks that you realized how gojo has mysteriously disappeared for a suspiciously long time, and everyone was too buzzed to notice. after checking the bathrooms and excusing yourself outside, a strange feeling washed over you; for some reason, you eventually found yourself making your way to the bar right across the street.

it seems that one way or another, there is that invisible string that persists, faintly pulling you towards none other than gojo satoru.

tentatively, you lean down, a hand reaching over to gently shake his shoulder. the overwhelming stench of liquor invades your nostrils, but you resist the urge to withdraw, your concern winning over. “you alive, gojo?”

“…it's satoru,” he groggily mumbles.

sighing, you drag a bar stool to sit beside him, observing the uncharacteristically disheveled male. the sight is so bizarre that it makes you audibly laugh in disbelief, and you're tempted to snap a picture for blackmail purposes—he deserves it, you think. just because it's him. what the hell happened to the suave, well-groomed, overly confident sorcerer that you know? the man with very little to no apparent weaknesses at all?

even the strongest has his moments, i guess. if you recall correctly, this might be the first time you've seen him so openly vulnerable. you try to will away the strange sputtering in your chest.

tugging at his wrinkled sleeve, you urge, “look at me.”

no response.

the drinks you've consumed earlier are now starting to take effect, a light headache incoming as you try to think of what you should do. you count one, two, three, before a haunting realization comes to you, making you grab a fistful of his snowy tufts and forcefully gripping it upwards. his eyelids twitch, adjusting to the light after previously being closed shut. when he finally opens them, your breath gets caught in your throat—his once brilliant azure eyes are now a bland gray, with a hint of red rimming the outline.

“gojo?! christ, snap out of it! why can i touch you?”

somehow, the fucker still manages to smirk.

“why not? you've never complained about it before, so why start n—” you let go of his hair, letting his forehead slam back on the counter with a dull thud. he makes a dissatisfied noise, whiny and drawn out, before groaning, “who do you think i am? i can sense your presence way before you came here—my infinity wasn't off this whole time. and again, that's satoru for you.”

that gave you little reassurance, unsure whether or not to fully believe him—especially in this sorry state. despite his devilishly good looks and capabilities, gojo satoru is lame, a menace, and acts like a fool most of the time; but even you know that's a ruse. right now, there's no silly antics, no mask to hide behind, no façade to protect himself. even his fancy sunglasses are long forgotten on the ground below him.

“care to share what's on your mind, my dear friend?”

the seemingly disoriented colleague of yours adjusts his head so he can face you, still leaning against the dirty wood as his lips pull into a pout. “your dear friend, huh…”

“what was that?”

“nothing,” he then sits back up, his voice back to a normal volume. “so? wanna take a shot with me?”

you try your best to refrain from grabbing him by the hair again and slamming his head downward, on purpose this time. “you already drank a whole bottle back at the izakaya, and even that's pushing it. what's with you?”

his glassy, bloodshot eyes regard your stressed expression for a moment before he turns away, opting to stare at shelves of alcohol displays in front of him. “do you remember how megumi acted the first time he met you?”

…of course he'd ignore your question. having a conversation with someone like gojo will never be as clear-cut as you’d like it to be.

still, you decide to entertain him; it is a nice memory after all. fushiguro megumi, one of your students, who is also the little kid whose sister you coincidentally saved from a near death experience many years ago. little megumi came up to you after learning what happened, his head bowed low as he muttered his sincerest thanks in a small, quivering voice. you had kneeled down to his eye level, assured him not to worry about it, but he refused to look up, nor to even budge an inch. then as a joke, you told him to give you a nice big hug if he wanted to thank you more, and he complied, much to you and (especially) gojo’s surprise.

“mhm. didn't know you were the sentimental kind. is that why you refuse to get drunk?” you tease.

“whatever. i've been taking care of that brat for over ten years now, and he's never given me any kind of gratitude or affection whatsoever.”

“...have you ever thought that maybe it's because you have a personality issue?”

“that's not the point!” he whips his head to you, glaring at you with such venom that you can't help but grin widely. he immediately stops scowling at your reaction, maintaining eye contact for a few seconds before he averts his gaze once again. “i… understand him, is all i’m saying.”

“you ditched the group and went all the way here, alone, just to reminisce about the past? you truly never change, huh? you're still as dramatic as ever.”

“disrespectful little sh–” and he's back to glaring at you with a subtle sneer. “why'd you even come here?”

“first: you can't call me that, i'm older than you,” you click your tongue. “second: why not? are you telling me to leave or what?”

“no, seriously. why?” gojo repeats.

at this, your brows crease together. why what? “because i was concerned?”

“why…” he sinks further into the counter, head in between his crossed arms, much like how he had looked when you first walked in.

“i don’t get what you're trying to… are you asking me why i’m concerned? well, why wouldn't i be? it's not like we're not friends outside of work. of course i’d—wait, where are you going?”

you quickly hop off the stool when the tall sorcerer abruptly stands up, now briskly walking away and heading towards the exit. you call him a couple more times but he doesn't bother to look back, and you resort to nearly running to be able to keep up with his freakishly long legs. right before he rounds the corner of the street, you harshly pull his wrist; at the contact, he jerks his head back, dull gray eyes flashing angrily.

“is that all you see me as?” he yells, his voice echoing through the dark, empty street. you’re taken aback by the harshness of his tone, letting go of his wrist in surprise. “tell me no. lie to me at this point. did all our nights spent together mean nothing at all? i was just a quick fix for you, wasn't i?” the volume of his voice raises even higher, and you frantically wave your hands at him to stop.

“no, that's not true! i—” now you understand why he's been drinking irresponsibly. fuck. if you knew this is how it’d end up, then you wouldn't have started anything with him in the first place. you don't regret anything, but is it really worth ruining your precious friendship? all the years of your youth shared together has now gone down the drain, all because of a couple of drunken nights?

“—then why don't you look at me the same way as you do with nanami?” he says, and your stomach drops. one look at your shocked expression and gojo already knows. he knows, yet he needs one last confirmation that comes directly from your mouth, no matter how excruciating it is. “tell me i’m wrong.”

“i’m sorry, go–”

“it’s satoru, damn it.” this time, he doesn't scream his words, nor does he ball his fists so tight that his knuckles blanch. instead, what comes out is merely a quiet, trembling whisper.

you wince at the sheer amount of emotion behind his words, the feeling of guilt heavy on your shoulders.

“listen to me, satoru. there's nothing going on with me and nanami. and what you and i both have– had, is in the past now. you know why we can't be together, right? i can't leave my dear students behind.” the two of you are well aware of that predicament; you and him can never have a real relationship, unless you're willing to risk relocation to kyoto prefecture.

would you really do that for someone you're not even 100% sure you're in love with?

“then stop pretending to care about me. stop doing all this like you mean it,” the white-haired male spits out. you look down, a hand reaching in your pocket for the discarded sunglasses you've picked up earlier, gently placing the pitch black lenses over gojo’s face.

you want to say it's for his sake, but truthfully, you just can't bear to look him in the eyes anymore.

“but that's the thing; i do care about you. and i never stopped caring about you. you're such a great person, satoru,” you assure him with a much softer tone. before you know it, you're reaching towards his face—however, as soon as you made contact, your palm seems to burn from realization (of him further misunderstanding your actions? of you knowing your place?), making you quickly retract your fingers.

you pretend you don't see him chasing after your touch.

“please believe me when i say this,” you continue. “you deserve someone who's just as kind as you, someone who actually deserves your love, and i’m not that person—”

“kiss me.” you nearly lose your balance as he suddenly places his hands on your hips, pulling you close to him, his voice breaking as he pleads. you're glad you can't see his eyes anymore—it might shatter your already fragile resolve even more. “i don't care. i don't care if you're not the right person, or if you think you're undeserving of my love. none of that has ever mattered to me. so please, kiss me. just one more time.”

huffs of your breaths mix together, faint white clouds forming in the chilly night. your heart shivers with anticipation as your gaze lingers on his soft, familiar lips for a moment too long.

one,

two,

three.

“…i can't. i'm sorry, gojo.”

for being the strongest sorcerer alive, he’s undeniably and pathetically weak when it comes to you. for being the strongest, he can't even snap that thin, flimsy cord, unable to sever that invisible string that ties you both together.

gojo hates drinking, but he would down glass after glass until his body gives up before his mind does. he absolutely hates drinking, but he hates uncertainty and loss of control even more.

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #jjk x reader #jjk angst #jujutsu kaisen #gojo x you #im sorry but i cant NOT do angst…

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tsukimefuku · 11 months ago

Text

The Event (Part 1)

This is an older version of this. The current one can be found linked on the masterlist.

You find yourself entangled with Nanami in his apartment, and worry where this might be going.

Tags: +18 (!!!), WITH PLOT (there is always a plot), Jujutsu Kaisen, SMUT, f!reader, Nanami x reader, alcohol consumption, they're clearly in love, fingering, bj, penetration, a little angst, some fluff, hurt + comfort.

WC: 5.2K

Theme song (?): Want me too - Mons Vi (on Youtube)

Hope you guys enjoy my filth, yet again. This is part of my "Jujutsu Partners Canon Divergence AU", a sequence of short stories and random drabbles for a Nanami x f!reader x Higuruma fanfic I'll eventually write (eventually). This is preceded specially by "Would you let me die?", here, and "Where does your mind drift", here. It comes before “The man who played with fire”. To see the ever-growing list of one-shots, please visit my masterlist :)

Disclaimer: these one-shots are NOT written and posted in chronological order of events. To see where this story fits in the timeline, please check the masterlist mentioned above.

“I've been fooled twice and again

Flowers dying that I send

But I want you

I want you

I want you to want me, too”

— Want me too, Mons Vi

You were pressed against the wall of his apartment, and Nanami's insistent hands on your waist were doing the pressing, while you fidgeted around his shoulders to remove his suit jacket. You both had locked lips and tongues to each other, and you couldn't remember another time in your life you had been this breathless while kissing someone. That boulder of a man and the heat of his body sent all your senses spiraling as you finished taking his suit jacket off and tugged his shirt to pull him even closer — something that was clearly impossible, given you were both already glued to one another.

Then, you tried to remember how the fuck the both of you wound up in this situation.

***

"Nanami..." you hiccuped, "you're d-drunk!" Lowering your beer mug on the bar counter, you pointed at him, accusingly. "C-completely hammered."

"Is..." Nanami took a moment to realize he had his eyes closed for a few seconds. Were it seconds? He opened them, as if that would help him with the drunken vertigo. It just made the situation worse. "... That so?"

"You're talking so damn slow, and you had your eyes closed for like a whole minute. Dude, you're so-" you hiccuped again, taking another gulp of beer, completely forgetting what you were about to say.

Somewhat amused at how you simply never finished the sentence, he pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers, trying to ground himself. Nanami didn't recall the last time he got this completely boozed up. Both of you were pretty strong when it came to alcohol, but tonight, you two maybe went a little too overboard. "You don't seem to be fending off so well..." He stretched his last word, feeling a little dizzy, "... Either."

"Is this a competition, Nanami? ... I'll win!" You declared, bottoming out your beer mug, making a pretty huge effort to put it back on the counter without breaking the glass. "... Do I want to win this-"

The barman looked at you two. "We're closing. Can I get you guys some water?"

Oh, that was why you were both so banged up. You had been talking and drinking nonstop for hours without eating anything.

"Holy shit, Nanami, we've been drinking for five hours?" You asked him, stunned. He answered nothing, having his eyes shut again, head dangling back, while he leaned on the chair. How does he keep sleeping while seated? This is so bizarre. You grabbed his arm and shook it lightly, and Nanami was pulled awake.

"We need to pay for the drinks, sir." He said to the barman, much to the barman's worry.

"I'll... Get your check, and some water for the both of you, okay?"

You both nodded, like puzzled kids.

After paying (with a lot of effort), you and Nanami walked outside, just to realize basically every joint was closing, and that it was raining. No, raining wasn't the most adequate word for it. It was absolutely pouring.

"Shit, I'm never getting home like this." You complained, as Nanami fidgeted with a small umbrella he somehow had on him. Considering he easily walked around with his blunt blade underneath his suit jacket, carrying this must've been quite easy.

"How did you know?" You asked, pointing at the umbrella.

"I always check the forecast before leaving my apartment." He answered, still fumbling with the thing. Of course he does. You took the umbrella from Nanami's hands and opened it, giving it back to him.

"Hey, Nanami... Do you live nearby?"

He started to look around, pondering for a moment, until he could locate exactly where the both of you were. "I... do, actually." He paused, realizing he had his posture crooked, fixing it. "It's a 20-minute walk from here."

You thought for a moment. "Can I-" hiccup, "come over and wait for the rain-" hiccup, "to pass?"

"Yes..." He blinked slowly, still processing the words on his mind. "Of course."

As he held the umbrella on his right side, you intertwined your arm to his, pushing yourself closer, so the two would fit under the tiny thing. However, given the fact that the both of you were considerably tall, and that he was specially broad, that didn't work so well, leaving each with some shoulder exposed to the unforgiving weather.

Nanami sighed slowly. "We will get completely drenched."

You scoffed. "No, we won't, and if we do, it will help us sober the hell up. Come on."

***

Feeling less under the influence after a walk in the rain and cold, Nanami took his keys and opened the door, letting you in. He noted you were both somewhat damp while taking your shoes off, but not completely soaked in water as he'd expected. He flipped the lights on, and then, you could see the inside of his apartment — something you, not so proudly, used to wonder about from time to time.

It had mostly light colors with warm tones to the furniture. He had two bookcases completely filled with books that seemed to be organized in a pretty specific and convoluted way. They neatly met together on each shelf. He had an armchair, and above it was a greenish type of light fixture for reading. The windows were incredible, and provided a great view of Tokyo. The kitchen was on the opposite side of the sofa, and it was an open-type of kitchen, where someone from the living room could see all of it. It was an impeccably clean and well-maintained place, and if this wasn't Nanami, you'd probably think it belonged to a serial killer, given how it was extremely tidy, to a clearly obsessive length. You felt you were dirtying the apartment just by looking at it.

"Um... Where can I sit?" You asked, hesitantly. He pointed to one of the chairs at the dining table, and you promptly sat there, trying not to move too much and spread water around the place.

You started to slide your hand through your hair, just to realize it was quite wet. He noticed, and went inside his room for a minute, coming back with a blue towel, giving it to you. Taking the towel from his hands, you shuffled it around your head, drying whatever you could. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." Nanami replied, sitting down on the edge of his sofa and removing his tie calmly. He folded it a couple of times before putting the tie over the sofa's arm.

"So, how are you feeling? You look more sober." You said. He did, actually. You noticed his usually neat, perfectly aligned hair had some locks over his forehead, probably due to the rain. His blue shirt was slightly damp, and his pants, just under his knees, had definitely seen better days.

"I feel more alert, yes. And the vertigo has stopped, thankfully. Although I'm still quite inebriated." Nanami replied, as he leaned back on the cushions crossing his legs, and you noticed the slightest hint of imbalance. "What is your status?"

"I'm sobering up a little. But I'm still pretty fucked, though." You answered, chuckling while you rested the towel over your lap. "I'll definitely regret this tomorrow."

He huffed, amused. "I will too, probably."

You were both silent for a moment, while the pouring rain filled the ambiance. It had eased out, but was still pretty heavy.

"Nanami..." You began.

"Yes?" He braced himself. He knew some complicated question or contemplation was just about to be thrown at him. Nanami had noticed for a while now that you liked to think out loud and chat about your ruminations.

"Remember when I asked you to let me die if it would save somebody else, and you refused?" You questioned, starting to probe him.

Strangely, it didn't annoy him at all, especially after the conversation you both shared when you were stranded with Ijichi by the mountains. He thought at the time you made that request, he'd like to go back to it, eventually. "Yes, I do recall that." Nanami answered.

"Why did you- I mean, we're supposed to-" Talking about this was hard, and being still somewhat drunk made the task nearly impossible. Gladly, he already knew what you wanted to go on about.

"I don't want you to die. You see, even with your antics," he began, "you have become an important person in my life. As jujutsu sorcerers, that unfortunately is hard to come by and stay. You..." He paused for a second. "You stayed, and I'd like to keep it that way."

You were slightly surprised, given you expected from Nanami some sort of less straight-forward declaration about the importance and relevance of people in his life. It must've been the alcohol, you thought.

"Why did you request that from me, in particular?" He inquired.

"Because you know me better than anyone currently in my life," you blurted out, "and I knew you'd not take it like... I don't know. I just knew you'd understand where I was coming from, especially having been by my side when-" You choked up and couldn't finish the sentence. He knew, he remembered clearly what transpired ten years ago in your hometown, one of his most significant missions. You weren't aware of it, but even after the conversation you had years ago, he still blamed himself to some degree.

"You know me well, too. So how did you arrive at the conclusion that I would agree to such a request?" Nanami questioned, curious eyes glancing at you.

"You're such a dutiful and respectful person. A decent one, too. Especially regarding other people's wishes, when it's within your powers to honor them. So I thought you'd agree to it." You confessed, shrugging.

He sighed. "I'm not a hero, I'm a jujutsu sorcerer. I came back because out of the two stupid things I could do, this was the one I was better suited for."

"You see, I think that's bullshit." You said, finally confronting him on this ready-to-go speech Nanami had most of the time. He was a bit surprised. You continued. "I know you care underneath that facade. Hell, I think I can actually say I know you, Mr. Bangs — yes, I remember them. We go way back, so don't try to preach to the choir. You're someone actually worried about saving people and doing good deeds in this dirty world of jujutsu."

The corner of his mouth stretched a little, and he seemed to be almost smiling. However, his expression was still blank enough to make his surge of warmth and fluttering unnoticeable. "If you knew that, then why did you believe I'd oblige to such a request?" He was still under the influence, and in normal circumstances, wouldn't be tap dancing dangerously around this boundary like he was right now.

You blushed and looked away as you began to answer him. "I just... Believed your 'preaching' for a second, I guess."

"I see." He answered, still looking at your face, thinking how lovely you looked when you blushe- No, stop it, he thought to himself. You noticed his eyes staring at you in a way that remembered the conversation you had while stranded some days prior.

“Is your mind drifting, Nanami?” You inquired, playfully. Looking at him to wait for an answer, your eyes locked onto his prominent jaw and chiseled face, and you wanted to rub your own face on his until you got cuts on your ski- Get a hold of yourself, woman, you mentally chastised yourself.

He didn’t fail to notice it, too. Rather than feeling embarrassed at being caught red-handed, daydreaming of you, he threw the ball right back at you. “Is yours?”

You promptly looked away, yet again, heart skipping beats as you tried to keep yourself under control. Then, you noticed through the window that the rain had finally subsided.

Time to run before you went past the point of no return.

"Nanami, the rain is gone. I guess this is my cue." You said, hastily getting up. You were nervous, and having him probing you — not the other way around — was pushing all of your buttons in ways you were not prepared for. Furthermore, you were the type to make other people uncomfortable through joking and blunt sincerity, just so no one couldn't do it to you first. But with Nanami, after so much time, you had become vulnerable, something that scared the living shit out of you. You just knew Nanami was a decent and good man who'd never take advantage of this, and on top of that, you kind of owed the fact you were still alive to him.

He seemed a little disappointed, his expression less indecipherable than before. "I understand. Well..." He said as he got up. "Return safely."

You approached him to say goodbye, and your senses — as well as your common sense — dulled as you felt his perfume, now evaporating along with the water from his clothes. "Bye, then." You said, suddenly planting a chaste kiss on his cheek.

Instead of retreating, as he normally would in a situation like this, Nanami closed his eyes and leaned his face to press your lips harder against his face, letting out a deep sigh of satisfaction that sent chills down his body. You inhaled him in, and before you knew, he was sliding down his own face, brushing his cheeks against your mouth intently, until his lips met yours. He let out a soft low groan as they made contact, and one of his hands made its way to your back, effectively pulling you into his warmth.

That was the moment you lost any willpower to get out of this unscathed, and you threw your arms around his head, which stole a light gasp from him. You used this opportunity to press your tongue inside his mouth, and his own tongue came to entangle with yours. Nanami grabbed you by your waist and pushed you against the wall, starting to pant lightly while the both of you were locked in a passionate kiss, ready to wash away the last ten years.

Oh, yeah. That's how this started.

He had his body pressed against yours, and you both did not dare to part the kiss or open your eyes, for you knew the moment you did, one or the other would pull the both of you back to the reality of how much of a bad idea this was. Not only were you and Nanami colleagues, but you effectively worked together on missions. On top of that, this wasn’t just a one-night stand or a random hook up, it was pretty well established you had feelings for each other, and some complicated unresolved issues. Things that having drunken sex usually tends to make even more chaotic.

Suddenly, he rubbed his hips against yours just the right way, and you felt his throbbing erection pressed against you. You moaned loudly against his lips, open-mouthed and tongues grinding each other. Your moan made him press his mouth against yours to a closed kiss, and all the hairs on his arm and neck propped up with a shiver. Nanami went still, and the lack of mindless friction against his body brought you back to Earth for a split second.

“I’m leaving/Please leave” you both said at the same time, as he jumped back, sitting haphazardly over the sofa’s arm and tried — without much success — to cover his hardened length with his closed fist, looking away with a completely flushed and vermilion face. I should consider quitting alcohol, was the idea he entertained.

Panting frantically, you ran to the door, snatched your shoes from the entrance without even putting them on, and got out, letting it close behind you. You tried to catch your breath while hunched over, and evening out your breathing was being much harder than you thought, though you figured it could be from your heart racing and throbbing against your chest insistently. There was a ringing in your ears that you wanted to wait out until leaving the building, and so you stood there, right outside his apartment, for some minutes. However, while trying to pull yourself together, you noticed something.

You never heard the door locking.

I want him, I’ve wanted him for so long now, and he wants me too. What am I doing out here? I’m seeing this through to the end, you thought to yourself, with liquor-bought courage, resting your hand on the door knob. Pushing your body while you tried to silence every anxiety and impression that this was a bad idea, you entered the apartment again, to find Nanami sitting at the edge of his bed, beads of sweat on his forehead, as he incredulously and eagerly lifted his gaze to glance at you. You felt you must’ve looked desperate, and simmering under his slightly vacant stare, he seemed desperate too, clutching his fist on the mattress strongly enough to deform it a little.

“You… never locked your door” you remarked, removing your coat.

“I… did not.” He answered. “More specifically, I couldn’t find the strength to do so.”

Nanami seemed to have reached the same conclusion you did when you were given time to think by yourself outside.

Starting to walk towards him, you removed your socks, then started to unbutton your shirt, and he seemed hypnotized, following your stride with needy eyes. You let your shirt fall back, sliding over your arms until it hit the ground. Standing right in front of him, you put your hands together to unbutton your pants, and he held your hands in place, hesitantly.

You were resolute, but he seemed to still be swaying between what to (not) do.

“I want you. I’ve wanted you for so long. I… please…” you pleaded, barely brushing the side of your face against his, sending electricity all throughout his body. “I know you want me too.” You brushed the tip of your nose delicately over his chiseled cheekbone, to look him in the eyes.

Sighing deeply with his eyes closed, he finally opened them, and put his own nose right beside yours, making it possible for you to feel his breathing, lips nearly touching. “I do.”

You immediately kissed him, and it was different this time. The feeling wasn’t so urgent, but your lips locked deeply and intensely. He caressed the side of your hair with his fingertips, sliding his index finger around the edge of your ear, sending chills down your spine. Nanami then put his hands, one to each side of your hips, and guided you delicately to sit beside him on the bed. After that, he slid himself further back on the mattress, and you followed along.

As you both were in the middle of the bed, he rested his palm on your chest, pushing you softly to lie down, with his honeyed eyes still locked to yours. Every touch he made was so intent you felt your body shiver, like this was the first time you were ever touched by another person. To call Nanami an intense lover would be an understatement.

Lying down slowly, you gazed up at him, feeling your face searing hot as you did. This man was so goddamn handsome, and the way he looked at you nearly knocked the air out of your lungs.

His hands traveled between your breasts, down your abdomen, and reached the edge of your pants, unzipping you and pushing them as well as your underwear to your mid-thighs. Still looking at you, analyzing your each and every facial expression, Nanami started to slide one of his hands to where your already drenched underwear was previously. You felt somewhat embarrassed to be already that wet from some kissing and grinding, but oh, well. He apparently had that effect on you.

As his fingers reached your dripping folds, his eyes widened a little, and his expression was kind of… amused? “Oh.”

Your face blushed even harder. “I… You… We were and-“

“You want me that intensely?” Nanami said, touching his forehead to yours, nose side by side.

“I… do. Please.” You answered, a little defeated.

He rubbed his lips against yours, and sighed, seemingly fluttering. “Then have me. Have all of me.” He pressed his tongue against your mouth, and you let him in, at the same time his fingers started to rub against your core. You mewled into his mouth, rolling your eyes back, and propping your hands to hold the nape of his head. He was softly grinding himself to the side of your body, searching for any relief to this throbbing clothed erection.

He rubbed his middle finger to your clit, and the others rolled your outer folds in, pinching them delicately. As you mewled and moaned into his mouth, he let out satisfied groans, trying to hold himself together as you fell apart to his touch. The sounds you made being under his will were just exquisite.

You started to grind your pussy against his hand, and attentively, he applied more pressure with his fingers over your nub, eliciting a loud and powerful moan from you, as you pushed full force your lips on his. His body trembled, and he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to stop doing this to you right now without going mad if you, by any chance, changed your mind about this whole endeavor.

Rocking your hips back and forth, you started to feel the heat pooling on your lower abdomen, tugging at his shirt urgently and desperately. He noticed it, and parted his lips from yours, keeping a small distance between your faces so he could watch you crumbling down in real time. You were completely debauched, flustered and messy. His heart throbbed in his chest, as he had never seen you look so beautiful as you did at this very moment. He could still smell the flowery scent from your hair, now mixed with your breath and sweat. It was heavenly.

Bubbling up and all throughout your body, you came onto his hands nearly yelling out of sheer pleasure, saying his name, and with your hands to the back of his neck, pressed your nails so deep into Nanami’s skin it almost drew blood. He huffed, delighted, as you quivered and convulsed underneath him. Nanami wanted to ask you to stay and not leave ever again.

Riding out your high, you pulled his face closer, planting a soft kiss on his lips.

Then, you moved your hand smoothly down his chest and abdomen until you reached the outline of his cock underneath his pants. You grabbed it firmly, and he let out a choked grunt from the back of his throat, launching his head back and pumping his girth involuntarily against your touch. You smiled.

“And you want me too, that badly?”

“I do.” He replied, pulling his hand up from your folds and tasting you from his fingers, while he looked straight at you. You saw his eyes half lidded as he tasted it. Sighing at the sight of that, you thought for a moment you came a little just from it.

You pushed him back on the bed with your hands and slowly began to unbutton the rest of his signature blue shirt, removing it, and straddling yourself on top of his hips. Your pussy was pressed over his cock, and he put both of his hands firmly over your thighs, grinding up, grunting as he did. The motion, after you became so sensitive, had you seeing stars and sparkles in the back of your eyes. Letting out a mixture of a huff and a chuckle, you basked in the vision you had in front of you, and slid down your hands to open his pants. You did, and removed them until they fell on the floor.

Suddenly, you gave a lick on his abs, and he shivered, letting out a faint moan. You made your way with your tongue slowly down his body, planting a few kisses until you got there. His cock was extremely hard, the tip was red and already leaking. Your mouth watered at that sight to behold.

Nanami suddenly put his hand on your cheek, and you looked at him. His face was flustered, his hair had already fallen completely out of its usual slick arrangement, and the needy look on this man’s face sent a wave of heat down your back.

“I don’t want to alarm you, but I’m… Extremely wound up.” He confessed, a little embarrassed. “If by any chance this becomes too much, tell me to stop.”

You smiled at him. “I won’t. Have all of me, too.”

His gaze deepened as your tongue made its way to his tip, glazing it with saliva. He immediately grabbed your hair and let out a strained moan, launching his head to the pillow underneath it. You swallowed his length, inch by inch, careful not to choke ahead of time. You noticed him squirming his hips underneath you, probably holding himself from bucking upwards full force.

Once you had taken him all in, you positioned yourself the most comfortable way and started to encouragingly press your hands on the sides of his hips, for him to pump his cock inside your mouth.

Still tightly — though not bruisingly — holding onto your hair, he asked, “are you sure?”

“Mm-Hmm”, was all you got out, with that massive cock inside your mouth. He started off slow, grinding the back of his cock to your tongue, gravely groans filling the room. As you seemed to be taking it well, his pace picked up, and his tip began hitting the back of your throat, deliciously choking you, as a few tears bubbled up in your eyes.

You were moaning to the taste and sound of Nanami, and your moaning seemed to snap something inside of him. Nanami began thrusting into your mouth intently, and after so much build up and grinding, suddenly, came while bucking his hips sloppily, painting the back of your throat with pure white. You began drinking him all in.

When you finished, you cleaned your face with the back of your hand, slowly making your way back to him. Before you did, though, Nanami held your waist and laid you down on the sheets, climbing on top of you and kissing you passionately, moving his hands to hold the sides of your head. He let his body weight rest over you, carefully, and you sank underneath that mountainous man, sliding your nails delicately down his back. He pressed himself in between your legs, and you gasped at the sensation.

“Please…” you begged, now holding his face, looking straight into his eyes. “Please.”

He sighed, pressing a quick kiss on your lips, as he grabbed a condom from someplace you couldn’t quite make out. Nanami opened it with his teeth, and slipped it on quickly, hovering above you. He locked eyes with you again, resting his forehead against yours, and extended his hand behind your back, accidentally pressing the deep scar you had over your spine. You gasped in pain, and he retreated his hand immediately.

“I apologize, I… I…” his expression looked equally pained, with a distinct frown between his brows. “Please, forgive me.” This wasn’t an apology about current events, and it clenched your chest to see him like this. At this moment, you knew he still carried blame for what happened years ago.

“There is nothing to be forgiven, stop apologizing,” you said, holding his head against yours, eyes piercing through his. “You never failed me. Don’t apologize anymore. Please, don’t… don’t blame yourself.”

His gaze softened, and he rested one of his hands on your cheek. The touch was wholeheartedly delicate, like he was holding a flower petal, and it sent your heart thumping against your chest. You could feel a surge of words stirring up your throat, and decided to let them out.

“I love you,” you said, gazing intently into his eyes, “I love you completely.”

Nanami looked at you pleadingly, and immediately pressed his lips to yours, brushing away to all the pain the both of you had endured together and apart. Only then, did he separate his lips from yours to breathe out, “I love you too.”

At that moment, you were sure you had sunk in too deep, and there was no escaping it anymore. Not even if you were an expert at fleeing.

He positioned himself and sunk in slowly, wanting to feel as every inch made its way into you. You both shared an intense and strained moan in unison, as he bottomed out, tearing you apart slowly. There was no build up whatsoever to the coil that instantly formed in your lower abdomen, ready to snap. You stretched and clenched around him, walls fluttering, and Nanami groaned against your lips, halting any movement from his hips.

“If I move too quickly, I’ll…” he said, closing his eyes and trying to concentrate, while pressing his hands to the sides of your shoulders. You were caged in, right underneath him.

You huffed and laughed softly. “I… I know, m-me too. Let’s take it slowly…”

Nanami smiled with the corner of his lips, planting an open-mouthed kiss on your jaw and contouring your face with the tip of his nose, until your noses were beside one another. He gazed at you, glancing straight into your eyes, and you looked right back, as he started to slowly glide in and out of you, pulling entirely and bottoming completely with each movement he made. Both of you moaned and groaned into each other, as he pressed you under him from every angle possible. Your heart whirled content, and at that moment, you felt heartwarmingly held and protected by him.

His pace started to pick up, and you were babbling incoherently against his mouth. He kissed you and pressed your head against the bed with his urgent, insistent lips, while the heat pooled in your belly began sparkling, ready to burst.

“I-I’m… I…” you huffed, nearly out of breath.

He thrust into you sharply and picked up a quicker pace. With that, you let go, orgasm hitting you like an avalanche, while you trembled, twisted and turned under Nanami. He came right after, muffling an almost shout with his mouth against your puffy lips, and his hips were slowing right until the movements stopped.

Your mind was blank and your sight grew dark, as you brushed the hair over his forehead with your fingertips away, a dumb smile on your face. He caved, falling beside you, pulling you in for a hug as you two drifted away.

***

You woke up, and realized you were sleeping with your stomach down. You had no idea what time it was, but the throbbing headache was relentless enough for you to not care about it. Looking to your side on the bed, you realized Nanami was nowhere to be found.

“What…?” You asked yourself, getting up and almost falling down in the process. His phone, which was on the nightstand before, was also gone. As you walked towards the room’s door, you saw that his blunt blade was gone too, and there were some toasts and an omelet ready on the table, accompanied by an assortment of toppings. The other side of the table, however, was empty, and over your chair there was a note.

For some reason, you had a bad feeling about it.

What was that about regret the morning after?

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu nanami #nanami kento #jjk nanami #jjk fanfic #nanami x reader #nanami x you #nanami fluff #nanami kento fluff #nanami angst #nanami smut #jjk smut #nanami kento smut #nanami kento x reader

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cyber-corp · 1 month ago

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2024: It was a....year?

A lot happened to me this year. I bought a car, I studied real hard and graduated high school, I realized some personal aspects about myself and generally the world around me felt a little more hectic. Maybe it's because I graduated, who knows.

Nevertheless, some truly fantastic stuff was made this year, and I tried to engage with most of it and enjoyed it! Here are some of my favourite bits and bobs that were released this year:

The Substance: I genuinely had no idea what this movie was about other than a few cryptic messages a friend sent me about it. It turns out it was a gorey, grotesque and all-around enthralling tragedy about one woman's self-destruction in order to win the hearts of disgusting media executives. My personal favourite film of this year, nothing else like it.

Doctor Who (season 14): No one is calling season 1, be real. A fantastic collection of episodes while Ncuti breaths so much new life into the character, and also demonstrates his ability as a great crier. Favourite episodes from this season were Boom and Dot and Bubble, Moff and Davies' ability to tackle political themes in a family-oriented context has proven to be unmatched.

Kinds of Kindness: This was the only film where its trailer actually pulled me in. I stuck around Yorgos Lanthimos after Poor Things, and this film is not Poor Things. By making a triptych story, Lanthimos covers all types of ground through the different parts, such as ideas of cruelty, power and of course kindness. I did feel a bit sick by the end though. Maybe that's par for the course.

FEX - Subways Of Your Mind: No fucking way they actually found it. A nearly decade-long search for "The Mysterious Song" finally came to an end this year, and managed to reunite the band that made it. Hearing it in such a high quality almost feels wrong after being used to the fuzzier, older recording from 2011. A really great new wave song that feels triumphant after years of searching.

Chappell Roan - Good Luck Babe! - 2024 was especially great for pop music. BRAT was a fantastic album, so was Short and Sweet, but I don't think there's even been a pop star quite like Chappell Roan before. She's ridiculously honest and writes the music she wants to write, and Good Luck Babe is a great example. When I think back to 2024 in terms of music and art, Chappell will be my first thought. You'd have to stop the world just to stop the feeling.

Porter Robinson - SMILE! :D - Porter comes out swinging with my personal album of the year. Bright and poppy when it needs to be, somber and mellow when it wants to make you cry so hard you throw up. Favourite tracks on here are Russian Roulette and Everything To Me.

Kendrick Lamar - GNX: This guy's had an amazing year and he didn't even drop an album until last month. And even so, Lamar continues to prove with the early 90s LA production and flow that it is, in fact, only Big Him. Favourite tracks on this album are reincarnated and dodger blue.

And the hyperfixation of the year goes to...

JoJo's Bizarre Adventure, for lifting me up during a very difficult exam period!

I read somewhere that Araki said JoJo's overall message was about "what it means to live" and that it acts as "an ode to humanity". Going into JoJo with that message in mind makes it a lot empowering (and a little more tolerable) to watch. All members of this family have this ambitious spark within them, and it gives them the energy to continue moving forward, which I found gave me my own energy. It's stupid, but simple messages like "Determination and passion are built-in to our humanity" really help out.

I don't want to jinx it too hard but considering how I have a lot of things planned for 2025, it's bound to be a more interesting year.

Happy new year and stay safe out there. I'll always share my heat lamp!

#:)#gecko boy #2024 #feeling a strong 7 to a light 8 #there are. too many things to tag so i won't

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uniquexusposts · 9 months ago

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Her || Charles Leclerc

Main characters: Charles Leclerc x OC Genre: fanfiction, fluff Story type: novel Part: 10/? Word count: 2602 Co writer: @mistrose23

Story summary: Matilde Jørgensen, the new Scuderia Ferrari team principal, faced the nerve-wracking challenge of reviving the team's fortunes and aiming for a championship. Leading a historic team as a 'newbie' and separating her work and personal opinions posed a significant challenge. The big question: is she capable to do so?

Previous chapter

Chapter 8. Call It What You Want

Matilde sat in the airport, waiting for her flight to leave. She was seated in the business class lounge, enjoying a cup of coffee. Well, she couldn't really enjoy it. The events of yesterday played through her head; from the perfect race and victory, to the moment in the restaurant. Even though it hurt, she still had a fun night with Max and her former colleagues.

"Hey," a voice said, he sounded surprised.

Matilde looked up and a smile came to her face. "Hey," she smiled at Kevin, who took a seat next to her. "Going home?"

The Danish driver nodded. "You too?"

She nodded. "It's my mum's birthday tomorrow."

"Ah, that's sweet. Congrats on your win, by the way! Your first victory as team principal and the first victory for Ferrari this year!"

A weak smile came on her face. "Thanks."

"Hangover?" The off reaction didn't go unnoticed by Kevin.

"Yeah," she breathed. "Something like that."

He smirked. "You will remember this one forever."

"And if I will," she muttered. The good and the bad, she thought. "How was your race? P11, P10?"

"P10, quite average. It was an alright weekend. The track is fun, but the entire show around it... Not a big fan, to be honest."

"Yeah, Miami is something else. I wonder what Las Vegas will be like," she mentioned.

"We are Danes, we keep it low profile."

They both laughed.

"Where are you seated?" Kevin asked.

Matilde looked at her ticket. "2A, you?"

"8H," he replied. "I don't know if it is me, but it's quite funny that in America, we get paper boarding passes, and in Europe, or flying from Europe, we have them online. Or it's me, my subconscious preference."

"No, I have it too. But I don't know. Also, when going through security here, we have to remove our shoes. I have never done that in Europe. Bizarre how many things are different between continents." She took a deep breath. "It makes travelling interesting and fun."

Matilde and Kevin made their way to the gate when it was almost time to board. They had to wait for just a few minutes, because the crew still had to arrive after a short delay on their side. Matilde's eyes fell on the crew of SAS, who now arrived. A smile came on her face, and tears flowed in her eyes. One of the stewardesses happily smiled as well and excused herself from the crew, just like one of the pilots. Matilde stepped towards the inflight manager of the flight.

"Mati," the stewardess said and embraced her daughter tightly.

Matilde closed her eyes, not saying anything back. She was so relieved and happy to see her mother after five months. More tears welled up, but she was fighting against them.

Freja pulled back, looking at her daughter. Matilde opened her eyes and took a deep breath. "Sweetheart..." Freja found herself in a difficult situation as well, trying to hold back the emotions as well. She stroked a piece of hair behind Matilde's ear and placed her hand on Matilde's cheek. "I'm so happy to see you. How are you?"

"I'm fine," Matilde whispered, not wanting to bother her mother before the flight and her job with her issues. "I'm so happy to see you, too," she said and smiled. "I didn't know you were on this flight."

"Coincidence," her mother smiled. "We will talk once we are in the air, okay?" She let go of Matilde and looked at the man who sat on the bench; she assumed it was a friend of Matilde's. "Are you flying together?"

Matilde looked behind her, at Kevin. "Yes, but we're not seated next to each other. He's a friend of Lars."

"Since when does Lars know Kevin Magnussen?"

"Lene is friends with his wife," Matilde smirked, thinking how ironic it was.

Freja looked impressed and introduced herself to the Danish driver. While they had a quick chat, Matilde greeted the pilot with a hug, happy to see him as well. The stewardess and pilot excused themselves and boarded the plane.

"Parents?" Kevin asked curiously.

Matilde nodded. "Mother and stepfather," she exclaimed. "She says it is a coincidence that she's working on this flight, but I know she planned it like this."

"Parents..." He smiled. "It's adorable." He looked at her. "This might be a personal question, and if you don't want to answer it, it's fine. But do you still see your father?" Kevin looked waitingful at her. "Lars doesn't really talk about this family, as you probably know by now."

A comforting smile came on her face. "Yeah, Lars is really private. But we all still see our dad. My parents divorced twenty-four years ago, and they're still friends. Mum met Emil through work, and they try to work on the same flights since they got together."

"Did they get together..?"

"Oh, no. A few years after the divorce."

"And your dad?" Kevin's eyes grew round. "Sorry, I'm asking way too much."

She shook her head. "It's okay, it's not like I have issues talking about it. My dad has a girlfriend, Astrid. They met two years ago. It's complicated, but it is what it is," she said and shrugged. "How are Louise and Laura, by the way? And how is the pregnancy going so far? You're having another girl, right? "

"They are both doing fine, and yes, we're having another girl." A smile came to his face as he continued to talk about his family.

* * *

Since it was a day flight, Matilde didn't manage to get any sleep. She planned to do some work on the plane, but ended up watching some movies. Her mind kept drifting off to last night. She got up from her seat and walked through the aisle, passing Kevin, who sat on the other side of the cabin. Their eyes met, he smiled, she nodded. Once she got in the galley, she waited for the bathroom.

"Mati," Matilde's mother said when entering the galley. "How is everything?" She closed the curtain.

"Fine, a whole new experience in business class," Matilde replied and playfully smiled.

"You've never flown business class at SAS?"

"No, economy is all I could pay for, and Red Bull could book for me. Now Ferrari books business class for me. Well, not this flight. I happened to get an upgrade?" She raised her eyebrows. "On this flight only? Not the first flight?"

Her mother smiled. "That is weird, lucky you."

"Mum, you didn't have to do this."

"You are the team principal of Ferrari and flying economy? A woman like you should fly business class. And it is a pleasure to have my daughter in business class on my flight," her mother proudly said and nudged Matilde's shoulder.

Whenever Matilde or her brothers were on the same flight as their mother - which wasn't often, they flew economy. And they grew up appreciating the small things, they didn't bother to fly business. Matilde wanted to ask Ferrari to book economy tickets, but she didn't dare to ask because she understood that by booking business class, she could properly rest or work during a flight. But flying business class wasn't in her nature.

"Still... This is a flight for a private event."

"Still. At least you're not flying private." Freja handed over a bottle of water. "How was yesterday?"

"Aren't you supposed to work?"

"We are mid-flight, all the passengers are served, and now we get on a break."

"Oh, yeah, that is right." Matilde took a sip of her water. "Well, go get your break. It's important."

Her mother proudly smiled. "You sound like a real boss, a caring boss."

A fragile smile came on Matilde's face. "I will tell you all about this weekend once we are home."

"Of course. Unless you want to say something now?"

"No, no, it can wait. You should take your break."

"Okay, sweetheart. By the way, are you driving home with Emil and me? After the plane lands, we have a quick debrief, and then we are free to go. It's okay if you want to go home. Are you staying at mine or your dad's?"

"It's your birthday tomorrow, so I was hoping to crash at yours?"

"Yes! Of course. You're always welcome."

"And if I can drive home with you? I think that's fun," Matilde smiled. "We're going to the same destination, after all."

Freja nodded. "I will share the plans after my break, yes? And you go to the bathroom, it's free now."

Matilde laughed. "See you soon." She stepped into the toilet and did her thing. When she stepped back into the galley, her gaze fell on Kevin. Business class was almost empty, and so was the seat next to Kevin. Without thinking too much about it, she sat down next to him; only the aisle was in between them. "Hey, can I ask you something?"

He sat up and smiled. "Yeah, sure. What's up?"

She licked her lips and looked around her. "Well, uh, I don't know if you're the right person to ask this, but yeah... From my experience, we did things differently... but when you're going out after a race, celebrating a...perfect result... do you ask Steiner to join? Or other Head of Departments?"

A frown came on his forehead, and he crossed his arms. "We don't have those results often, but... Yes. Why?"

Matilde slowly nodded. "Exactly," she mumbled. She looked down and saw that her hands trembled slightly.

"Why?" Kevin asked again.

"I'm telling you this in confidence, okay?" Matilde said and looked at him.

"No one will know about it; whatever you have to say, I promise."

"No one in F1," she repeated. "I'm struggling with this thought, but...uhm, the team went out to celebrate the win and P2," she told him. Kevin nodded. "Without me." Tears filled her eyes. "And I don't know if it was their intention, like, not to invite me. As in, they didn't want to celebrate it with me. Or if this is how it goes at Ferrari."

A concerned look came on his face. "Oh, wow. Matilde..." He didn't know what to say. "Why is that your thought?"

"Things are not going smoothly with the team and me; there's still a lot of friction. And I'm still an outsider, which I get; I'm new, young, a woman, still learning to speak Italian. But this weekend... It felt like we bonded, like we finally became a team. And I was, am, still proud of this weekend with all the performances, but then I got a message from Leclerc, asking where I was at their celebration. Coincidentally, we were in the same restaurant. I was with Gemma, and we ended up at Red Bull's dinner. And then I saw the team celebrating the great results."

"But didn't they go out with the team and... I don't know, perhaps the crew only?" Kevin asked, trying to understand it and trying to soften the blow for her.

Matilde shrugged and wiped away a tear that was rolling over her cheek. "No." She looked in front of her. "Everyone was there, except me. But why would Leclerc text me, asking where I was? If it was a crew-only dinner, then why would he text me?"

He showed a weak smile. "I don't know. I'm trying to find some reasonable excuses, to make you feel less shit. You know, I know my crew often goes out as well without inviting the board." He scanned her face. "But the message from Leclerc doesn't make sense. But why were you with Gemma at the Red Bull dinner?"

"I kinda forgot," she said, more tears rolling over her cheeks. "I had so many emotions, and everyone was texting and calling me and asking me things. I asked a mechanic, and he said that they would stay in, because they all had an early flight home the next morning," she rattled. "And then Gemma showed up and asked if I wanted to join her. Next thing I know, I was doing shots with Max." She ran a hand through her hair. "I was thinking of throwing lunch or something after the days off, but I'm not too sure about it now."

Kevin nodded and took a deep breath. "This is not nothing..." He didn't want to say too much; what if he said something wrong? Or gave her an idea? "Did they see you?"

"I sent them champagne."

Kevin straightened his face. "You did what?"

"Yes, I'm sorry, but what the fuck was going on? It didn't make sense. And I wanted to let them know I was there without actually standing next to their table," she blurted. When she thought about it now, it was a bold move, a dick move, but it was genius. "And I told the waiter to say that I gave them my compliments."

"Matilde..." He looked impressed and disapproved at the same time. "This is so..."

"Not me? Yes, I know. But I already had alcohol in my body, and I just... I don't know, I was so confused and disappointed. And when the waiter pointed at me... You should have been there. They looked like they had seen a ghost."

Kevin couldn't help it, but laugh. "It is such a dick move, but such a great move. You can't do this. This is not professional."

"It's not professional to invite everyone, but your team principal. And I get it; it's awkward, but I'm not awkward. Half of the team is older than me and more experienced than me. And it's not like I don't know how to function in a team." She shrugged.

"But how did things go at Red Bull?"

"We would go out for dinner first, often with Christian and the board. The team would go to a club, and Christian and the board often would go back to the hotel; sometimes, they would join. Or we would go out without Christian and the board, team only thing, but they would know. Or they declined the invitation. We were very open," she said and dried her eyes when her sight became blurry. "It was asked... And everybody had a choice. I know things work differently at Ferrari, but this was the last thing that I expected." Matilde shook her head. "We still have to bond and stuff, apparently, but I honestly thought we bonded well over this weekend, and I was just so proud to lead this team." Warm tears left her eyes again. "They didn't invite me for a reason."

"Why?"

"I don't know." She sniffled. "But it's good to know that this isn't normal. Or that this is the way Ferrari operates. The text of Leclerc still doesn't make sense."

"Well, I know that this isn't normal."

She got up. "God, I'm sorry you had to see me having a breakdown," Matilde embarrassedly laughed and dried her eyes. "It's the lack of sleep, hangover and yeah... But thanks for listening. I won't hold you up longer from whatever you wanted to do."

"Matilde, this is a serious issue. I'm not saying you have to go to the board and say something about it, but you have to talk about it. If you say nothing, they will think this is normal, and it's definitely not normal," Kevin mentioned. He grabbed her hand and squeezed it softly, just to let her know that he was there for her. "Let me know how it goes." He gently let go of her hand.

She nodded. "I will, thank you. Really," she said and walked away, back to her own seat.

Kevin was perplexed and processing the words he just heard. Should he do something about it? Or did her team have other intentions? Either way, he knew he had to text her brother when they landed, sharing his concern.

Next chapter

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