#also yes James smokes

[james-sunshine-potter]

when i get home, i'm going to bury you...

READ ON AO3 (pretty please :*)

TW/ Vomitting, Death (we don’t see it happen), blood and morgues, smoking, driving under influence (it’s not someone we see or know)

James doesn’t think this could get any worse if he tried.

Like he isn’t even sure how it got to be like this.

It was meant to be a party for Evan’s 19th birthday. A house party which was meant to be a plain excuse to get wasted for a night and regret it in the morning.

James had been a part of the planning due to his (secret albeit) involvement with this friendship group, through Regulus. Mainly due to the fact he had money and a car to drive around town to collect party supplies. But also, regulus wanted him there… and who was he to say no to him?

Him and Regulus had been… a thing for a while now. It was official, absolutely. They had both confirmed it to each other, they were dating and theirs only. He thinks Regulus might be too jealous to anything but commitment, which James isn’t complaining about. The thing was not many people new. Regulus’ friend found out through an unfortunate accident (they weren’t even doing anything that explicit… they actually just missed it…), Barty doesn’t know what a secret means and suddenly Evan, Dorcas and Pandora knew. And because Dorcas knew, Marlene knew.

But for James and Regulus’ luck, Marlene wasn’t big enough to ignore a bribe (money… £120 to be exact, he paid for a tattoo and piercing), so the secret stopped spreading there.

The point was James had been dating Regulus for almost five months now, and Sirius had no idea. It wasn’t like James was never going to tell him, he was just waiting for the right time. He just doesn’t know when the right time was to tell Sirius he’s dating his little brother who he has a complicated relationship which James knew about. He couldn’t see that going well.

Especially since James was the person to properly start it. He started the flirting, the chase (he wasn’t being chased though) and he was the person who asked Regulus out for the first date. Everything else just happened, Regulus made sure nothing was accidental. Regulus was the one to want to keep in private at first, James would do anything regulus asked him to. He loved the privacy, and the intimacy which came with it. Every kiss was just for them, everything which happened behind closed doors was just for them. There were no expectations, no pressure. No one knew about what was happening with them. Regulus is so private that the people who do know barely know anything.

James is almost surprised it lasted this long. He isn’t complaining though. He can’t think of a time where he felt happier. Where he felt more loved.

It wasn’t hard keeping it from Sirius. Every hickey he had was from a one-night stand Sirius didn’t know about. All the flowers? From parents, Sirius never questioned that. Why would he? Love letters? Never seen, completely hidden to begin with. Days busy? Busy at the gym… or at work… or with family… or colleges at work are doing something afterwork and he was invited. He had an answer for everything. Every I was dotted and t’s crossed. Nothing was forgotten or left behind. Plus, Sirius is too oblivious to actually notice any true connection.

That’s how five months were able to happen before they found out.

And how did they find out? Because Barty doesn’t know what the word ‘secret’ means.

Barty who was drunk and probably high, with what James knew was circling the party, spilled the beans to an equally as intoxicated Sirius about how cute James and Regulus are as a couple.

And now they are here. Sirius has been screaming at James for so long, James is no longer tipsy like he was before. Thankfully, with how many people was at this party, the sheer quantity of alcohol and the volume of the music, not many people were aware of what was going on. Only the people watching.

“I can’t fucking believe you’d do this to me,” Sirius cursed for the fourth time, “My little brother, you’ve been fucking my little brother and you were dumb enough to think I wouldn’t care or find out…. How could you be that dumb James?!”

“What do you think happened, Sirius? He dumbly tripped and fell onto my dick; we are our own people!” Regulus snaps back, who has the ability to mindlessly argue with Sirius for hours.

“NO!” They roar, “I think James has jack shit going on in his head since he thought this was ever a good idea in the first place,” The slur to their words being drowned out by Lady Gaga from the other side of the wall.

“Sirius… there’s no need to be rude, you’ve even noticed that Regulus has been happier in the past months, this could be seen as a good thing,” Remus pulled Sirius back by the shoulder, trying to stop this, even though it doesn’t. Clearly already done with this.

James is too. In the twenty minutes of conversation, he’s barely got one word in. Sirius won’t shut up. James knew he was mad… maybe it’s this bad because they’re drunk. Sirius always picked fights drunk.

“I don’t care about being rude, I care about trust! How could betray me like this?”

“Oh my God Sirius, I didn’t do anything to you!” James snapped, sick of Sirius’ shit, “I don’t have some weird sick vendetta against you where I’d use your brother, and no this isn’t some sick joke, and no this isn’t some situationship which I’ll break off coldly once I get bored and no, I’m not dating your brother to make fun of him, which you so kindly think I would,”

James runs a hand through his hair, “I’m dating Regulus because I love him, and I love spending time with him… or I don’t know, he’s his own being and not your possession you give out like a toy,”

Sirius just scoffs, “I know I don’t possess him, but what I don’t like is keeping it from me in the first place and now rubbing it in my face,”

“Firstly, I was the person who didn’t want to tell you for so long, so if you’re going to be mad at someone for that, be mad at me… and secondly, we aren’t rubbing it in your face,” Regulus said with an impressive amount of patience, “If anything, you are… we’ve been begging you to shut up about it for 20 minutes now, I just want to enjoy this party, so does James… and Remus… and Peter, and surely you…”

Sirius has a disgusted look on their face, if James wasn’t so over this, he’d laugh, “Why didn’t you tell Remus, huh? Or Peter? Marlene knew, Dorcas knew, Barty, Evan and Pandora knew… what makes them so special?” Sirius turned around to try and get Remus and Peter involved but it was clear to everyone but them, that Sirius was fighting a losing battle.

“Pads, going to be real, I couldn’t give two shits who James shags, I thought I made that obvious,” Peter said bluntly before straight up leaving the conversation, walking back into the party.

“Yeah babe… they’re being safe, they’re happy and also, they haven’t been making me deal with any mess, I don’t care… I don’t think this is worth the energy you’re giving it,” Remus said calm and cooly, rubbing a caring hand down Sirius’ arm.

It doesn’t work, as they quick turn back to Regulus to have a sparing over who James belongs to and the betrayal of it all. James quickly focused on finding his own out.

Which came quickly. As if God heard his prayers.

It came in the form of a phone call. He always kept his phone on vibrate, because he’s just anxious if he didn’t. So due to his phone anxiety, he’s able to feel his phone vibrate in his back pocket as he starts to zone out from the conversation entirely.

He pulls his phone out to find ‘PRIVATE NUMBER’ displayed on the screen in bold letters.

Now, this could be a scam call about an alleged, albeit fake car accident he was in or an amazing out.

He takes his get of jail card.

“I’ve got to take this,” He abruptly says, bolting as he turns to leave Evan’s place, leaving the door open behind him.

He vaguely hears ‘YOU CAN’T GET OUT THIS THAT EASY JAMES, GET BACK HERE!’ but he ignores it by walking further down the street and answering the phone.

“Hello?”

“Hello, is this James Fleamont potter?” A serious voice come from over the phone. This couldn’t be a scam call cause otherwise how would they know his full name? Middle name included? “Yes, it is… who’s this?” James answered cautiously, slowing his steps.

“My name is Grace Taylor, and I’m calling from St. Mungo’s Hospital…” There’s a pause from the other side of the phone, it isn’t long, but it doesn’t make James feel good, “It says on my records on my records that you are an emergency contact for Fleamont and Euphemia Potter, is that true?”

“I am… yes,” A pit forms in James’ throat as he continues to walk down the street. He isn’t first on the emergency contact list for either his parents, rather the second behind each other for respective parent. If he’s getting asked for both, this can’t equal anything good.

“I’m sorry to inform you but there has been an accident involving Fleamont and Euphemia Potter,”

James stops dead in his tracks, completely unaware of where he was. Not caring if Sirius followed, or even caught up. He can hear them walking up the street.

“Sorry? An accident? What do you mean an accident? Are they okay? What’s… what’s happened?” James barely lets out a whisper.

“I’m sorry to say no, it was a car accident… we need you to come to hospital as soon as possible… to identify their bodies…” He’s sure she is still talking but there’s absolutely nothing going into his head. Car accident? His parents never drive, his mum doesn’t even have a licence. His dad has a car but doesn’t even take it out the garage half the time. They need to identify… he can barely think it. Bodies means dead. He wouldn’t need identify people, people with ids and records and the ability to confirm their own identity, but bodies mangled beyond recognition…

Fuck he’s going to be sick.

“James… you still there?” he manages to hear.

“Yeah… I’m coming now where… where do I need to go?” he can barely breathe.

“If you come to the accident and emergency entrance, you’ll find me and I’ll help you from there, I’m sorry about this, drive safe,”

James drops his phone as she hangs up. He can’t breathe, he can’t think, he can’t move.

This can’t be happening, it really can’t be happening, surely this isn’t actually happening, surely this seriously-

“If you think you could fake a phone call to get away from me, you’re even dumber I thought James!” Sirius starts on again. James doesn’t even turn to face them.

James doesn’t even answer.

“Oh, you’re a child now, not even going to give me answer… not going to look at me?” Sirius is being mean for the sake of picking a fight. They don’t even sound real, their words twisted and echoing through James’ head.

The only thought in his is ‘your parents are dead, mum’s dead, dad’s dead, they’re dead, they’re dead, mum and dad are dead, dead, dead, dead, dead, dead, dead, dead, dead, dead, dead, dead, dead, dead, dead, dead, dead, dead, dead, dead, dead, dead, DEAD - ‘

James feels Sirius step closer to him. He doesn’t react.

“Real fucking mature James,” Sirius pushes James as they drunkenly speak.

And that… that does it. That tips James over the edge, as with no warning to anyone but him, he leans over himself, placing shaking hands onto even shakier thighs and vomits onto the pavement.

There’s a wave of reaction, none of them good but that doesn’t stop James from going again.

And again.

And again. Until there’s nothing left inside him, until he’s doing a weird mix of dry heaving and coughing. He doesn’t stand back though.

“Shit James, are you okay?” Regulus is suddenly by his side, magically. Adding to the stars he’s seeing. Placing strong hands-on weak arms, crouching down so he can meet James’ eyes.

“Hospital…” Is all that he manages out around the taste of vomit and poorly timed coughs.

“Hospital? What do you mean?” Regulus parrots back, understandably confused.

“Called… it was the hospital… I need to go to the hospital… now” James says, spaced out and feeling a little lost, as he stands up. Regulus catching him as he sways.

“You need to go to the hospital? Are you feeling sick?” Regulus immediately sounds terrified.

“No… parents there… hospital called…”

And really, that’s all he really had to say for Regulus to click. James, even in this spaced-out space, can see it click.

“Okay… okay I’m coming with you, Remus can you go back in and get him his keys and some water?” Regulus told Remus, leaving no room for arguments. Remus left without saying anything.

“Uhm you aren’t going to go with him Regulus,” Sirius says, dumbly thinking it’s a good time to speak, “If anyone should go with him it’s- “

He gets cut off by a sharp slap to the face. If James was more with it, he would reacted let alone cared. But he wasn’t, so he just watched.

“You have done more than enough tonight, you aren’t going anywhere with him,”

Regulus takes James’ hand and pulls him away.

James just follow.

-•-

James is sitting in some chair, in some corridor of some part of St. Mungo’s Hospital waiting for some mortician.

Turns out, the accident was worse than bad. It was horrible. Friday night was always their date night, they never missed it. They had gone to a new restaurant in London which a friend had recommended. They were taking a taxi back to the station when the taxi ran a red light, which caused a bus to crash into the back of the taxi.

They weren’t ones driving, but they were the ones killed.

The taxi driver they had was apparently high behind the wheel. If James hadn’t already thrown up everything previously, he would have again. What made it so much worse was that the driver wasn’t even hurt. Not a single scratch on his body. James could kill him. If he ever saw him, he could him for killing his parents. He’s not proud of it, but he could. He hopes the taxi drivers rots in prison.

He was just waiting for the mortician to come collect him, so he can do what he came here to do.

Regulus is sitting next to him, never have letting go of his hand. He sits there silent, like a saint. James worships him like he is one.

“I can’t remember when I spoke to them last,” James whispered. The silence is thick, it’s killing him. He needs to break it, by whatever means how.

“Sorry?” Regulus whispered back, obviously shocked by what James had said.

“I always call my mum on a Wednesday, we’ll talk for an hour about something… literally anything… then she’ll pass me over to dad, and we’ll talk money and work…” James paused and looked into Regulus’ eyes. His eyes could solve a million of James’ problems, and yet they couldn’t even scratch the surface on this one.

“I can’t remember if I called them or not,” James admitted, guilt in every word.                                                                                

“I know you did… I walked in on it,” Regulus whispered, pressing a hot kiss onto James’ cheek. Sparking a small smile to bloom on James’ face.

“I’m not going to leave your side, you know that. I’ll be there with you the entire time… I’ll enter holding your hand and leave doing the same you understand?”

James nods, his eyes suddenly feeling wet. Regulus just kisses him.

They sit in silence for not much longer when mortician comes out, a man in a uniform behind him follows like a shadow, to conduct this. It was a borderline fight to let Regulus come in with him, something to do with him ‘not being an emergency number’ and ‘not being family with the victims’, but it ends with James refusing to do anything without him there.

Regulus comes in and stands by two lumps on metal tables face them. The morgue feels much worse than he could have ever prepared for. Drawers which hold bodies line the walls, there are supplies and knifes lining the walls. Everything feels so… dead. The lighting feels sickly. There’s no life, no pulse. It smells of antibac, sterile. Like the dead people never lived to begin with.

“Just tell me when you’re ready… just take your time,” the mortician says, clearly detached by the idea of having to identify bodies.

James just stands there and breathes, even though it feels like it isn’t getting there. He can’t feel anything, which he should care about, but he doesn't. He just doesn't. He can feel Regulus’ hand, but he can’t feel the warmth that comes with it. He can feel the softest touch of Regulus wrapping an arm around his waist, but he doesn't feel the support like he usually does.

He could stand here and avoid the inevitable until they decompose. He kind of wants too. Denial is the easiest way to live life. Something his dad would parrot on about on their weekly phone calls. ‘Just because you can avoid something, doesn’t you should… it doesn’t go away, it just comes back harder’.

He takes a deep breath, grips Regulus’ hand to the point he might break it and bites the bullet.

The mortician pulls back the cloth and his hand comes up to his mouth in a feeble attempt to muffle the sob that comes in result. He could cry a river at this point.

He confirms the identity, which triggers the officer to leave, along with the mortician leaving with a comment with giving them some space.

They’re barely recognizable, James only recognised through their wedding rings. Scratched and worn and loved. Shiny silver gone dull, chips in the once sparkling sapphire, chipped and bloody. His dad had it custom made for her, as it was her birthstone. He did it before he even had the money to actually afford it. He sold a watch and his car for it. He told him that story every wedding anniversary like he’d forget. They never took them off. No matter what.

Fifty years together, and they died together. They loved and died by each other’s side.

There’s poetry in that somewhere.

He let goes off Regulus’ hand and walks closer to them. And he just stands there. He doesn’t do anything. He wants to touch them. Hold their hand, move the hair out of their face, something. But he thinks his heart might stop if he does.

But there is one thing he wants to do.

“Could… could you get their wedding bands?” James whispered, gentle with his words, “I don’t want them to get lost…” Regulus does it without saying a word. He’s gentle as he lifts dead hands and slides rings off with ease, putting extra care not to touch anything he shouldn’t. He hands the rings to James and places his arm back where it was.

A part of James wants Regulus to leave, the stronger part of him thinks it might kill him. Lay bloody and dead with his parents. Bury himself six feet underground.

They stand there for what feels like hours, and Regulus doesn’t hesitate once. He hugs him when he breaks down, he whispers reassuring words that no matter what happens, he will not leave James’ side, even means getting into more fights with Sirius. That no matter what happens, he isn’t alone. And all James can think is he’s so thankful for a five-month secret relationship.

So when it's time to leave, James lets Regulus take him home.

James just follows.

-•-

It rained throughout the entire service and wake. It doesn’t stop James leaving halfway through for a smoke.

One of his mum’s friends from school, Minerva McGonagall, spoke the eulogy. It was a lovely speech.

The wake was at their home, James didn’t really have the energy to have it anywhere else.

He stepped out after half an hour, sick and overwhelmed of crowds and conversations and the overwhelming feeling of death. He hadn’t been back home in a while, too busy with work and university for it. It was something he’d say he would pop down at the weekend, surprise them with some flowers and an apology for not seeing them sooner and letting his mum be clingy with care until he went home the next day. Nothing in the house changed. His dad kept his golf clubs the same place, his mum read the same gardening magazines, the same photos of James lined the same wallpapered walls. 20 years of this house and it feels the exact same. He's just thankful he made some effort the week before, otherwise he didn’t know what he’d do. He took them to his favourite pub by the beach and paid. He would never be able to do that again.

He stood at the end of their drive, just letting the summer rain soak him through as he enjoyed the silence. No one is pestering him here, giving repetitive condolences and well wishes. He had tried on multiple occasions to step out, but someone always stopped him. Everyone thought he wouldn’t want a second alone for himself at his own parents’ wake.

And apparently, even now, standing the pouring rain, he won’t get the time he wants. As he hears the front door open, a quick blast of chatter getting loud before going muffled again.

He just wants to finish his cigarette in peace.

He turns around to see Sirius waltzing out with an umbrella which certainly isn’t his; it’s his dad’s golf umbrella.

“I’ve been looking for you for like half an hour…” Sirius puffed as he stood next to James.

“Well, you’ve found me,” he says before taking a drag from his cigarette.

“Mind if I pinch one?” Sirius asks, as he covers James with the umbrella.

James puffs out a cloud of smoke before pulling out his packet, and Sirius takes one. Lighting it with their own lighter.

They stand in silence as they smoke. He can only begin to imagine the lecture his mum would give him if she ever found out that he smokes. They never knew he smoked, either of them. He would have definitely found out if they did.

“I… I’m sorry,” Sirius says as James puts out his cigarette.

“Unless you’re about to reveal you secretly drive taxis, I’m not too sure what you’re apologizing for, mate,” James said kind of dryly, not really that interested in having a conversation.

“Well, lucky for you, or me, I don’t… my reaction to you dating Reg,” and fuck, James almost forgot about all that, he’s had some much to do that it completely slipped his mind till now, “I was rude, too rude… as much I’m not thrilled about the idea of you shagging my little brother, the stuff said stuff which was uncalled for,”.

“Am I hearing you admit that you were wrong?” James jabbed.

“Don’t expect to hear it ever again… it’s just…” Sirius sighs as they put out their cigarette on the wall next to James, “I guess in my head, all you two were doing was screwing, which never ends well…” Sirius turns to actually face James. James returns the favour.

“But it’s clear that you two really care for each other, I mean I’ve watched Regulus show you care and patience I wasn’t even aware he was able of doing,” Sirius commented.

“If you’re about to give me the big brother protective talk, save it for a day when it isn’t my parents wake,”

Sirius takes a deep breath, “Did they know? Effie and Monty?”

“No… well I never told them, but they also know, so I like to think they did,”

“You’re a good person James, I have no reason not to trust you, especially if my brother does,”

As if he knew he was being talked about, Regulus came out, ready to complain about James being soaking wet cause of the rain. Stuff about colds and ruined suits and ‘how dare you worry me like that! I thought you had down a runner!’.

James just kissed the saint that is Regulus Black and lead him inside.

James just followed.

[hingabee]

i made some doodles for @aireyverkhovenskys femswap au. the first three are all seperate but i put them together bc it feels wrong to not let them engage

[strangerstilinski]

smoke me out

𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: you and eddie are friends — and really, what's a little shotgunning amongst friends? [ 7.4k ]

𝗰𝘄: friends to lovers, dubcon bc they're high, reader with a vagina & breasts, drug use (weed), smoking & shotgunning, pathetic attempts at dirty talk, unprotected sex, cream pie, and goofy eddie (always)

𝗮/𝗻: the stoner in me came out at the beginning, ngl. this is just a horny culmination of my need to shotgun with eddie and also to rub his sweaty body with my own. and yes, that one part is inspired by the gifs of the hoard scene featuring joe's tight little ass grinding away.

𝐍𝐒𝐅��� 𝟏𝟖+ 𝙚𝙙𝙙𝙞𝙚 𝙢𝙪𝙣𝙨𝙤𝙣 𝙢𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

It's just you and Eddie today.

You're propped up against the headboard side by side, a nest of pillows providing you both with a cushion from the uncomfortable framework behind your bed. The muted sound of James Hetfield's voice floating through your stereo speakers over a heavy clash of drums and guitar has your head bobbing in time with the beat. Eddie has long-since gone from shredding on air guitar to intently staring at the way his own ringed fingers bend toward his palm every time the pitch shifts incrementally, mentally contemplating the chord changes by ear. 

Despite the windows thrown open on either side of the room, your small apartment reeks of smoke and weed. The humid Indiana summer air filtering through the curtains is not nearly strong enough to properly air out the cramped space. It's one of those wonderfully warm days — peak summertime. Not overly hot, but enough to have your skin prickling with heat beneath a tank top and cotton shorts. 

Eddie is still lounging in a threadbare pair of checkered pajama pants and a cutoff tee, the top half of his hair tied back in a haphazard bun to lessen the weight of the thick curls sticking to his neck. 

Eddie is prone to complaining when it's hot. Or when it's cold. And also when it's rainy. Or windy. 

Point is, you're not sure why he's yet to complain about the lack of air conditioning in your apartment, but Eddie seems content as ever. It could have something to do with the little glass pipe the two of you have been passing back and forth all afternoon. The bowl on the end had been packed tight, more than enough weed to have both of you thoroughly stoned, well before it's even finished.

The ceiling fan is stirring up the faintest breeze. You've burned yourself thrice on a rogue, billowing flame while trying to light up. The circulating air keeps pushing an errant dark curl down over Eddie's face every time he dips his head to take a hit.. You've combed it back for him four times, already—God forbid he set his hair on fire. Again. You're not sure he's even noticed the way your hand lingers on that smooth strip of skin behind his ear just a little longer each time.

But you can't help it, not with the way everything's gone a little foggy at the edges. Your eyes seem to process your surroundings in near slow-motion, all while the world shines with a barely-perceptible gleam. The last twenty minutes the two of you have spent smoking have done wonders to soften the world around you. Your head is full of air in that familiarly pleasant way that leaves you feeling a bit like you might float away at any second. Like a balloon in the sky. And with the added bonus of Eddie by your side, you're entirely relaxed. Contented.  

Weak beneath the lazy weight of your high pressing in on you, you suddenly flop your weight down sideways across the bed, your head landing over Eddie's thighs. You blink slow up at him, hazy gaze focusing on the underside of Eddie's face while he brings his bony knees up from the mattress to cage you a little closer to his chest. The angle would be outrageous were you looking up at anyone else, you're sure, but Eddie..

He's so pretty.

All rogue-ish boy. Unkempt and wild, but still entirely beautiful.

You can't help the way your hand finds its way up, up, up. Your fingertips dancing across the barely-there five o'clock shadow on the edge of his jaw. You trace the hard line all the way from his chin to his ear, his stubble scratchy and wholly soothing when you lightly scrape your nails against the grain of it.

Eddie, on the other hand, has found himself entirely focused on the way gravity has moved your breasts in your new position below him. The awkward angle has carried them up and out, bra-less and soft and hypnotizing. They shift just a little every time your hand moves across his face. The tank top you've chosen to wear today is thin, indecently so, in his opinion. His brown eyes have been glued to the obvious outline of your nipples beneath the fabric since the moment you'd greeted him at the door, and his ogling has only gotten less subtle as his high settled in. He risks another longing glance down past your collar bones, reddened eyes dragging over the shape of your puffy nipples hidden underneath.

You're thumbing softly at the coarse hairs just under his chin when Eddie gives in to impulse and  purses his lips to blow a cool breath of air over your neck and chest. You can't help but giggle as your skin reacts, goosebumps spreading down your arms, and unbeknownst to you, your nipples tightening into semi-hard peaks beneath your top.

They're not the only things that are suddenly semi-hard. 

Eddie smacks his lips and swallows the drool that he's embarrassed to admit has pooled beneath his tongue. His ring-clad knuckles brush the side of your breast as he reaches to take the forgotten bowl from the blankets. 

He attempts to gather himself as he takes another hit. He holds it for a count of five and then exhales a cloud of smoke whilst urging himself to imagine something utterly repulsive.. His uncle in the shower, roadkill, the way his balls itch uncomfortably after he plays a gig at The Hideout in too-tight jeans — anything that might keep him from popping an unwanted boner while you've got your pretty, unassuming head resting in his lap.

Your fingers are now trailing lightly over the light freckles dotting the bridge of Eddie's nose. His skin is a little pink from yesterday's sun, despite the number of times you'd physically dragged him from Steve's pool to apply sunscreen to his steadily-reddening cheeks. The previous day outside has Eddie's barely-there freckles appearing far more visible than usual, speckled along the round tip of his nose, his cheeks, even the crinkles around his eyes. You think they make him look even more handsome, boyish perhaps, but handsome all the same.

Through the warm fog in your brain, you find yourself smiling up at him. A dopey grin on your face as you poke at the soft apples of his cheeks — Like he's your own personal plaything. Your heart ticks excitedly when the corner of Eddie's lips quirk up at you in response, his pupils blown wide, surrounded by a thin ring of molten chocolate. His teeth flash with his sweet little chuckle of amusement, cheeks dimpling beneath the sparsest area of his stubble.

“You've got freckles,” You comment quietly. “They're cute.” You smack your lips once, mouth dry with dehydration, “I like 'em.. 'nd your stubble, too. Feels nice.”

“Thanks, sweetheart,” Eddie chuckles, stoned and more than a bit flattered under the weight of your attention. His chest puffs up a little proudly, his words flowing without any real thought behind them, “Made it all myself.. 'S hard work.. But, uh, y'know. Someone's gotta do it.”

He slips his lighter between two of his fingers and holds the bowl off to the side so that he can drag the fingers of his free hand softly, delicately, over your hair where it's fanned out over his lap. He doesn't want to mess it up, especially doesn't want one of his rings to get caught and pull. But it looks so soft, and through the haze, he can't fight the impulse to simply.. touch. So gently. 

His attention seems intently focused on the careful motions of his fingers along your hair, and you take advantage of his distraction by finally allowing your gaze to drop to his mouth. Eddie keeps slowly rolling and biting his lips between his teeth. Canines dig into the flesh before he's scrunching his nose and pursing his lips, only to scrape his teeth over them again in a never-ending loop. You doubt he's even aware he's doing it but it's beginning to make his lips swell, the skin darkening to a brighter shade of pink from the abuse.

All at once, your trance is broken when his tongue pokes out to wet his smoke-dry lips. Your mind flashes suddenly with an idea. 

The absence of both the Hellfire crew and your other friends was truly a rarity. You hardly ever got to be alone with Eddie like this. You'd tried to ask him out once upon a time- No, not just once. Twice. Twice you'd asked him on a date — both of which had somehow ended in group excursions rather than romantic one-on-one time, how it had happened two separate times, you still weren't sure — and at this point you'd given up entirely. Because maybe it just wasn't meant to be. It was okay, really, you'd almost grown content in your longing. 

But, the way Eddie's lips shone lightly after his tongue stroked over them.. It had your brain reeling with possibility. If you were ever going to get his mouth on yours in private, even just for a fleeting moment, it didn't seem possible that an opportunity so seamless would ever present itself again.

It was worth a shot.

“I want another hit.” You tell him, licking at your own lips as brown eyes refocus on your face.

“M'kay, well, you're prob'ly gonna need to sit up for that, sweets,” Eddie points out, entirely unaware of the way your tummy always swoops when the thoughtless pet name falls from his lips. “Unless you were really lookin' t'get a face full'a ash.. In which case, you can definitely keep layin-” A burst of air leaves his nose with a laugh of surprise, repeating his own words to himself with a sweetly boyish giggle, “Sounds like ass. Face full'a ass. Now, that I'd like-”

Normally you'd join in on the joke. Poke a little fun at him for saying such a thing. Freak. You'd say it fondly, with an eye roll to go with it, maybe you'd throw in a half-serious offer involving his face and your backside- But you don't say any of those things. You can't. You're in the middle making the not-so-carefully crafted scene in your head a reality — And, can't he see that? Why is he trying to distract you? 

“Ash. Riiight, uh huh. Well,” You pause, feign innocence before your next words. “Maybe.. Maybe you could shotgun it to me n' that way I can stay right here?” You suggest cautiously, before adding as an afterthought, “If you want, I mean.” 

Any amusement is immediately stripped from Eddie's expression. He spends a few achingly long seconds blinking down at you with heavy eyelids, gaze hooded and distant. His weed-hazy brain takes a moment to actually process your words, but then, just as suddenly as he'd zoned out, he's nodding and bringing the glass pipe back up to his lips, one hand cupped around the end to shield the flame from the path of the ceiling fan.

The lighter clicks and swishes quietly as he lights up. He lowers the bowl after a long second, ringed hand dipping beneath your head and guiding you oh-so gently to arch your neck upward, until he can lean down and press his mouth down softly against yours. 

That first soft brush of his lips has your whole body thrumming. Butterflies begin a rampage in your stomach, so much so that you have to actively remind yourself to part your lips beneath his.

He presses down just a bit more, lips squishing solidly to your own parted ones and sending your heart racing dangerously, but then he's exhaling the smoke into your waiting mouth. You breathe it in as it comes, letting the warmth of it flow from his body and into your own.

He watches you intently as he moves to pull back and sit upright again. Watches the way you seal your mouth shut, lips rolling between your teeth while your lashes flutter against the apples of your cheeks. You allow the smoke to simply sit in your lungs for a long moment before relaxing your chest and exhaling through your nose, releasing the diluted cloud up into the air between you. 

Eddie blinks down at you with heavy lids. There's a long moment of silence between you. It's a palpable thing — not quite awkward or tense, but brimming with an unexpected energy that neither one of you can quite decipher. It's charged. Something like static electricity, or the tether between two magnets of an opposite charge. It nearly tingles in the breadth of space between you.

Eddie feels it. He wonders if you feel it too.

“D'you want another hit?” He asks after a minute, his voice scratchy.

You merely nod your head, not trusting your own voice, and the movement has you refocusing suddenly on the soft press of his calloused fingers where they linger against the nape of your neck. You watch with bated breath as Eddie brings the glass pipe in his hand back to his lips again, letting his gentle grip fall from the top of your spine for just a moment so that he can flick the flame of the lighter over the tiny pocket at the end of the pipe once again. 

Eddie drops the items in his hands to your bedside table carelessly once he's gotten a good lungful of smoke. He leans down in a faster movement this time than he had done before, his hand dipping back beneath your head in a flash to bring your mouths together again.

His lips are dry against your own, but so soft. You're not sure if it's the high or simply Eddie, but the barely-there scratch of stubble over his upper lip is delicious. It feels so good it makes you a little lightheaded. 

Your mouth slips open, inhaling as he exhales. You feel the warmth of the smoke entering your mouth, taste the bitterness of it on your tongue as the two of you fit together like puzzle pieces.

You're preparing to let your craned neck fall back to his lap, to close your lips in an effort to keep the smoke inside of your lungs — but then Eddie is tightening his grip on the back of your head incrementally, and instead of pulling back, he slots your lips together more firmly. Your heart skips in surprise and you can practically hear the blood pumping in your ears. Your brain seems to white out for a moment, unable to focus on anything that isn't Eddie's soft lips moving tentatively against your own. 

A thin cloud of smoke escapes into the air around you as your mouths begin to move together in synchrony. You can't hold back a soft gasp of surprise when Eddie's tongue swipes warmly across the seam of your lips. Your heart pounds, your mouth opening beneath his again without hesitation. 

The kiss that follows is a frenzied rush of lips and teeth and tongue. Hunger blossoms in the pit of your stomach. But it somehow manages to feel so languid, so sensual beneath the relaxed fogginess of your high. 

Your back arches, shoulders lifting from Eddie's thigh to meet him more than halfway. The movement prompts his hands to find your hips and Eddie is tugging you upright in a flash. Suddenly you're wedged between his legs, practically in his lap. Your knees curling around his waist as he leans farther into your space, chasing your warmth until barely any space exists between you. 

Your hands slide idly along his body in a slow trail. Each scrape against your palms feels divine. Every inch of him feels like silk under your fingers. The smooth, worn cotton of his tshirt. The tight ringlets of curls at the nape of his neck, a little damp with sweat. The soft give of warm muscle beneath your eager hands on his chest, his arms, his hips. You attempt to memorize every inch of him, your limbs seemingly moving of their own accord, touch-hungry and weightless all at once. 

He's so warm and- God, you want to be inside of him. You think you might want to bury yourself beneath his skin and make a home there. He smells like heaven, like sweat and weed and masculine body wash. Your fingertips drag leisurely along the length of his inked arms, inching slow back toward his neck like you have all the time in the world to explore every inch of his body. 

Your touch is scorching across his skin, overwhelming and seemingly everywhere at once but simultaneously not enough. It's like all of his wildest dreams have come to life, and Eddie can't fucking believe that this is happening. That you're practically in his lap, your tongue in his mouth, legs draped around his waist, hands tucked beneath the gaping sleeves of his muscle tee to roam freely and grope at the exposed skin of his hips.

Eddie's head cranes just a bit to the side in an attempt to deepen the kiss, licking his way deeper. His own arms curl around your waist, tightening at the curve of your spine to tug your body flush against his. The action has a needy noise pushing its way into his mouth as your tongues explore one another with warm, wet licks. He groans at a particularly slow curl of your tongue, he swears he feels it in his fucking balls. 

He's so turned on he thinks his dick might explode. Eddie changes your position in another quick movement, holding you flush to his chest before he's directing you to lie back against the mattress and slotting himself right there  between your thighs. 

Despite the way your head has gone a little fuzzy from lack of oxygen, you can't find it in yourself to pull away from him. All you can do is slide your hands from Eddie's shoulders and up into his hair. Tingles shoot from your fingertips as they slide into his frizzy curls, yanking some of them free from his bun just to feel the way they tangle around your fingers. A hot flush of arousal pulses in your cunt at the satisfied noise that Eddie lets out when you tug lightly, and that noise alone has you suddenly frantic. 

You can't get enough of him; his sounds, his taste, the press of his warm body between your thighs.  

The hand he isn't using to support himself against the mattress rubs along your waist of its own accord, his fingertips slipping beneath the hem of your shirt to brush featherlight over your skin. You swear sparks erupt in his wake. 

You pull back just enough to murmur his name desperately against his lips, but the syllables are barely out before you're licking into his mouth again with unbridled hunger. Eddie's groan meets your ears in response to your weak plea — what you're begging for, you're not quite sure, but then his hips drop against yours with a slow roll and that- 

Oh, that is exactly what you needed.

You can't help the soft whimper that falls into his mouth. The warm line of his half-hard cock pressing against your cunt through the thin barrier of your pajama bottoms has you dizzy. Eddie grinds hips against yours in another slow roll, clothed erection pressing soft into your cunt and prompting the seam on your shorts to nudge at your clit. You both groan in sync, parted lips barely brushing through the breathless sounds.

You also can't help the way you lift your hips in time with each grind of his length against you. The warm weight of his balls squishes against the fabric of your shorts every time his pelvis drags over your own. The thin cotton feels far too thick of a barrier currently between you and his cock. 

Ringed fingers sneak up a little farther beneath your shirt, his hand tightening over your naked breast, and you keen at the feeling. He alternates between brushing the calloused pad of his thumb over your nipple and covering the area with his palm to give it a soft squeeze. His lips fall slack against your own, too busy focussing on the way his fingers release and then grope again and again, the kind of distracted intrigue that could only be a result of his high.

A soft whine falls from your lips after a minute of putting up with his lazy fondling. You tug at the hair between your fingers again and nip encouragingly at his lips in a silent plea for a kiss. His mouth finally resumes moving against your own, and you gratefully allow him to direct the kiss. You give him full control of the pace, which turns out to be a give and take of desperate licks into your mouth followed by gentle caresses of his spit-slick lips against your own. Lips smack each time you part, tongues sliding together wetly, heaving breaths rush in and out of your noses as you both attempt to pull as much oxygen in as humanly possible in an effort to not break apart.  

Your fingers find the knob of his spine, and you tug on the collar at the back of his shirt in silent question. Eddie answers by pushing back up on his knees to yank the fabric over his head in a quick movement. His tattooed chest heaves with slightly labored breaths and you watch him with rapt attention, your eyes drawn to the tiny patch of hair nestled between his pecs and lightly dusted around his nipples. Then your focus drops to the thicker trail that leads down into the waistband of his pants. The pale skin beneath the hair glistens with sweat, and good God you want to taste it-

But you're only granted a few seconds to ogle his torso before Eddie is dipping back down to catch your lips with his, your mouths immediately separating just enough that he can strip you of your own top. 

As soon as your naked chest is exposed to him, Eddie is dragging his lips down your body in a slow trail. He pauses for a moment to kiss a spot just below your ear, his voice raspy when he speaks, “You good? This alright?” He checks quietly. 

You reach up to tangle a hand in his hair again, a breathless sigh leaving your lips as you feel the warmth of his mouth pressing against your neck, “Good, yeah. Very, very alright.” 

Eddie wastes no time, his lips trailing lower. He leaves a series of wet, open-mouthed kisses to your exposed breasts, relishing in the way you react to his mouth, the way your spine arches up from the mattress at the attention. 

“Jesus H. Christ. 's incredible,” Eddie mumbles, his words slurred against your chest as he bites and sucks at the skin on the side of your breast. His head has gone hazy with lust, his fingers slipping beneath your body to grab a desperate fistful of your ass, “Hand to God. I swear, I've never fuckin' seen more perfect-”

You interrupt the filth spewing from his mouth with an entirely unintentional moan, slightly overwhelmed by the influx of sensations. His praise in your ears. The feeling of his fingertips sinking into the plush of your ass. The prominent bulge in his bottoms dragging against you. 

Eddie curses under his breath, taking your nipple into his mouth and biting down softly before immediately soothing his tongue over it in apology.

Your brain is a little fuzzy. Sweetly faded and hazy at the edges, but somehow, each touch and sound between the two of you feels heightened — Magnified and all that more intense. As if your high has somehow managed to mute everything on earth except for Eddie. 

You release his hair in favor of sliding your hands down his back to grope the globes of his ass over his pajama bottoms while his hips continue to rock forward in a dizzying rhythm. A knead to the flesh there has Eddie whining sinfully against your tongue and your pussy fucking throbs in response.

"Baby," Eddie pants into your mouth, his voice nearly cracking with need, "Take 'em off, please- Baby? c'n we-?"

He doesn't finish the question but you nod, nose brushing against his as your hands slip underneath the waistband of his pants. Your fingers are very nearly trembling while you shove the fabric down below the curve of his ass. 

You feel the moment that his cock springs free and you immediately have to crane your neck down to take a peek — The urge to see him is too strong. And God is it a glorious sight. 

Flushed red at the tip and achingly hard— Jesus it's thick, gloriously thick. His pubes are dark and untamed around the base, hiding just how big he truly is. It's the most gorgeous cock you've ever fucking seen and it's bumping softly against the crotch of your shorts, wetting the fabric with smeared pre-cum that Eddie's fucking leaked over the head. He's wet with need, same as you, and the thought makes you feel fucking insane. 

Which means you ogle perhaps longer than you should. 

A needy grumble rises in Eddie's throat that has you snapping out of it suddenly and bringing a hand up into the narrow space between your faces. It takes a moment with the dryness of smoke lingering on your tongue, but you manage to gather enough spit to lick a wet stripe up your palm and fingers, and then you're reaching down to curl your fingers around him. 

Half-naked is practically Eddie's default state when he's stoned or drunk, you've drooled over just the outline of him in his underwear more times than you can count, but you're still somehow surprised by the sheer size of him in your hand. The weight of him. Long and curved just a little to the right — so silky and so soft under the slippery glide of your fist. You work your hand slow over him, rewarded with a beautiful little groan of thanks from the man above you, the sound of it guttural as you begin to jerk him with slick strokes. 

“Ohhh my god, that- that's, j-jesus-” His voice fucking cracks. 

Eddie's hips jump as he fucks into your fist. His eyes roll back, a little delirious just from the sight of your smaller hand wrapped around him. You switch from long strokes in favor of shorter ones where you can focus your attention on his tip, your thumb swiping back and forth over the head of his cock with each flick of your wrist. Eddie doesn't even recognize the sounds leaving his mouth. The combination of his high and the wet glide of your hand is too maddening to care. 

You make your own small noise of amazement that has Eddie coming back to himself suddenly. He yanks your shorts down your thighs with an impatient huff, pulling away from you just long enough to discard the last of both of your clothing before he's caging you back against the mattress once again. And then his lips are making their way to your neck, kissing and sucking lightly between these oh-so pretty little groans against your throat, his hips bucking restlessly into your own all the while. 

You give an eager cant of your hips, feet pressing into the mattress until the tip of Eddie's cock brushes the seam of your cunt. Eddie makes another sweet little noise of surprise that has you draping an arm around his neck, your face pressing into his shoulder as you repeat the movement with intention. 

You want him so bad your pussy fucking aches. 

“Ed, can we, please?” You whisper desperately into his skin. 

The question is barely out before he's nodding against your throat, bracing his knees and lining himself up with your hole. His hips push forward until just the tip of his cock presses into the wet heat of your cunt, but good lord-

He's so big. It feels a bit like he's splitting you right down the middle, but it's so good. He rocks his hips forward slowly, each little push stretching you wider than you thought possible. Every time you think he can't possibly have more to give you, he slips in a little deeper. He reaches so far inside of you that your eyes roll back, a long, drawn-out moan tearing past your lips at the slow stretch, the dull fullness behind your navel that you can nearly feel in your throat. 

“Oh, fuck.” You whine breathlessly, hands scrambling for purchase along his skin. Your nails bite into the sweat-slick muscles of his back before slipping lower still. You find the dimples at the base of his spine, nails raking over the pale white skin of his hips and ass. Your whole body goes lax underneath him as the wiry bush of his pubes finally meets your own. 

The noise Eddie releases into the curve of your shoulder borders on a whimper, his breath hot against your skin as he rocks his hips forward again and again. His weight pushes you deeper into the mattress, his cock grinding desperately against the absolute deepest parts of you. He gasps with each nudge of your cervix against the head of his cock, practically humping you through the haze of his high as he tries to give you time to adjust to his size. 

“Y'good?” Eddie pants into your neck, words slurred together with need. He feels half a second from fucking begging when your legs spread further, your thighs falling back toward the mattress and allowing him even deeper and holy fucking shit. “Ohh, c'n I move?” He’s all but whining now, “Please. God, please can I-” 

“Uh huh, 'm good, 'm good, I-” Your assurances cut off with a wail when he begins to pull back and drive in again with a sharp snap of his hips. Your fingers tighten where his hairy thighs meet his ass, nails biting into taut muscle in an attempt to ground yourself. “Ohmygod.” You whine, eyes glazing over with the heat that pools behind your navel with each thrust.

“Y'feel so good.” Eddie mumbles, slack mouth pressed to the sensitive spot below your ear. 

He pushes up on his elbows, but only enough that you can gape up at him with hooded eyes, brows furrowed with just how fucking good he feels. 

“Fuucck, y're pretty,” Eddie groans between deep thrusts, his words drawing a moan from your lips. He brings one hand to your cheek, thumb pushing into the plush cushion of your swollen lips before he's covering them with his own in a messy kiss, “Y're so hot. So. fucking. perfect.” 

His words are spoken quietly against your lips between thrusts, his nose squishing your own in close proximity, and you draw him back down to your mouth in a hungry kiss, teeth clashing. 

The pace Eddie has set is intoxicating, pulling nearly all the way out before slamming his hips forward to fill you up again with deep thrusts. Your moans are loud, wanton and uncontrollable under the haze of your high, only somewhat muffled by Eddie's mouth covering yours. 

In a frenzy, you find yourself kissing away the sweat beading on his upper lip. You lave your tongue softly over the light prickle of stubble at his cupid’s bow, but you're only granted a moment to relish in the scratch of it before Eddie is nosing at your cheek and urging you back into a scorching, albeit distracted, kiss. His fingers wrap around your upper thigh to hitch your leg a little higher on his hip, rocking his hips forward again and managing to hit impossibly deeper inside of you. He drives into that spongey spot behind your navel and you writhe-

“Oh-” You gasp into his mouth in surprise, head gone fuzzy as he continues fucking your at the new angle, “Eddie!  I, fuck-” 

He responds with a groan. His lips leave yours to forge a trail of biting kisses over your skin. He wants to kiss you everywhere. He wishes he could kiss every inch of your skin and still keep fucking you. You're weak to do anything but lie there and take it and it makes Eddie feel dizzy with power. Your arms curl around his shoulders again, head thrown back against the bed in ecstasy. 

Eddie's mouth is seemingly everywhere, lips sucking at the underside of your jaw, tongue leaving a wet trail over your collarbones and throat, teeth sinking into the curve of your shoulder. Each new sensation sends another spark of arousal down your spine, sends your brain farther into the clouds. 

It’s almost too much. It has you tightening your thighs around his hips and rolling sideways over the bed to switch positions, his cock slipping free as you find yourself straddling his waist with only a slight wobble from the momentum. Eddie makes a quiet noise of surprise and petulance, but it melts into a grateful, high-keening moan when you sink back down onto him. Your hips press flush to his as you set a new, slower rhythm of your own making. 

“Oh, Jesus,” Eddie whines in amazement, hands tracing over the curve of your waist and breasts as you rock back and forth onto him, “Shit. You look so good like this.” His praise comes out through heaving breaths.

You rest one hand supportively over the sparse hair at the center of his chest, the fingers of your other hand trailing up the skin of his arm until you can tangle your hands together against the mattress. You grind your hips down harder, deeper, and Eddie groans, his hips bucking up unconsciously to meet you halfway. 

Your forearms fall on either side of his head. Your weight pressing down against his chest has Eddie immediately fisting your ass and thighs in a bruising grip to help guide your movements. You lean down to bury your face in his neck as you slide back and forth along his length in a slow rhythm, your legs already aching with exertion even with the help of his strong arms.

The loud slapping of skin meeting skin every time the backs of your thighs meet his own rings loudly in your ears. Your staggered breathing falls against his lightly stubbled jaw, lips leaving distracted kisses in apology for the way your hot breath fans out against his already sweaty neck. 

“God, Eds,” You moan into his skin, sucking a mark against his throat while he uses his tight grip on your hips to fuck you down onto himself, “You feel. So f-fucking good-” 

You let out a yelp as Eddie twists your bodies again with a grunt, and suddenly his body above yours once more, his hand on your shoulder as he sinks back inside of you.

“Need it faster. Harder.” He pants, “That okay?” 

You nod, head rubbing against the mattress, “Yes. Please, yeah-” 

Eddie trails his fingers down the back of your thigh and guides you to wrap your legs around his waist, and then he’s fucking into you in quick, punishing thrusts. Your moans only increase in volume at the change of pace, your whole body seemingly flushed with heat. Your hands scrape desperately over Eddie's back as he pounds into you, nails cutting into pale skin. 

“Shit,” Eddie groans, his forehead dropping down against yours in an unexpectedly tender movement, though it does little to take away from the sound of your bedframe creaking, the wet squelch every time he drives back into you. “God, 're you close?” He asks desperately.

“Uh-huh.” You confirm immediately, brain hazy and muscles tensing with each hard thrust that brings you closer and closer to your peak. 

Eddie's nose rubs soft along your cheekbone as he nods, joining your mouths in a kiss that's more breath and tongue than anything else. You struggle to focus on moving your mouth against his as your orgasm begins to creep into the corners of your vision. Eddie's weight drops down onto one elbow to allow him the stability to reach in between you. His hand settles over your pelvis, his fingers swiping messy over your clit as his quick thrusts grow shakier. 

“C'mon, sweetheart,” Eddie murmurs against your lips, “C'mon, I really-” He's cut off by the groan that rumbles up his throat when you pulse around him, the sound entirely animalistic. “Goddd. N-need you t' fuckin' cum, baby, please.” 

His voice has gone husky with arousal and exertion, the sound has your eyes rolling back. It only takes a handful more thrusts like that, with the help of his fingertips tracing light circles over your clit. Your whole body tenses as your orgasm crashes over you, legs clamping around his hips. You whine brokenly in his mouth, a sharp gasp immediately following as you scrape your fingers down his shoulders, your whole body shaking as you come undone around him. 

The increased tightness of your muscles spurs on Eddie’s own orgasm within a few thrusts, and then he's following you over the edge. He buries his face in the curve of your neck as he cums with a whine, hips stuttering twice before burying deep. His weight crushes you to the mattress, your back arching at the warmth of his release filling you. Your eyes water with the strength of your orgasm, Eddie's hips unconsciously grinding into your own as he rides out his own, whimpering into your ear with the aftershocks. 

You both remain unmoving for a long minute, sweaty chests heaving as you struggle to catch your breath and come back to yourself. You card gently through Eddie's sweaty hair, his curls having long since broken free from the hair tie that had once held them back from his face. You fingers trail thoughtlessly through the damp tresses while Eddie's hot breath fans out over your neck. His dick twitches inside you when your fingertips scrape softly against his scalp and you struggle to bite back a quiet laugh of amusement. Your muscles tense even with the smothered laugh, and Eddie groans as your cunt pulses around him. 

He huffs when he catches the look on your face, entirely dramatic as he begins to roll away, but he only maintains that feigned annoyance for about half a second before he's cackling madly and dragging you into his chest. He nips sharply at your shoulder as he tugs you into his sweaty chest and buries his face in your hair, fingers beginning to trace soft shapes over the skin of your hip. 

“You feelin' okay?” He murmurs after a moment. 

“Yeah,” You confirm with a sigh, already relaxing into his touch. Your brain is pleasantly dulled from the combination of the lingering high and your orgasm. “Yeah, 'm great.” 

“Oh, same, yeah. Super great. I just, uh-” Eddie pauses and you find yourself focussing on the gentle caress of his fingers along your skin, “I wanted to check, y'know.. Make sure you weren't havin' any.. I dunno, just, regrets-”

You're readjusting in a flash so that you can look at him directly, your head settling onto his bicep as your eyes flick between his, “I don't. Regret it, I mean.” 

It feels much too serious of a conversation to be having considering how deliriously high you currently feel, the previous strenuous activity did little to clear your head, but you mean it with every fiber of your being. You've been hung up on Eddie for what feels like forever now, the thought of him outright regretting the events of the last hour- It has you feeling sick, stomach sinking and twisting and souring all at once.

Eddie's throat bobs as he swallows, “Just, I mean.. Y're real stoned and- Shit. I, fuck. I probably shouldn't've-”

“Eddie,” You cut him off, feeling desperate with the need to reassure him, “You smoked just as much as I did—probably more. I-I wanted this. I wanted it, like, really bad. Unless..” Your heart drops, “Do.. Do you regret-?”

“No!” Eddie disagrees immediately, and vehemently — With urgency to correct you. “No. No, sweetheart, I do not regret it. Could never regret you. I mean, that was- Shit, I've been wanting to do that since-”

Your hand finds the warmth of his chest, fingers scraping at the small tattoo there, “You have?” 

Eddie nods his head against the blankets, sweaty curls sticking up every which way around his head like a messy halo, “Yeah.” 

“Does that mean.. I mean, would you maybe wanna do it again sometime? But, like, when we're not high as all hell?” 

Eddie's dimpled grin has an embarrassingly wild burst of butterflies erupting inside of you, “Yeah. Yeah, I really do.”

You lay like that for a while, pressed together despite the heat. His fingers wander over your palms, tracing the lines there while you watch the way his rings shift. Your naked bodies separated only by a thin layer of sweat. The ceiling fan pushing light waves of blessedly cool air over your skin. 

After a few minutes Eddie suddenly tears himself out of your grip, and he does it so abruptly that your brain is hardly able to comprehend the loss of him. He lets out a quiet yelp of distress and nearly collapses face-first into the blankets in a mad scramble toward your legs. He manhandles you until you're sprawled on your back, pushing your thighs apart before flopping entirely ungracefully onto his belly in the narrow space he's made between them. 

As you push up onto your elbows to peer down at him, Eddie is simply stroking his fingers soft up and down the length of your cum-soaked folds. His eyes are alight with wonder while he watches his own spend begin to leak out. One of his thumbs catches it as it falls, and he pulls his hand back for just a moment to get a better look at the pearlescent mixture of your combined cum. 

“What're you doing?” You giggle after a long moment of simply watching him.

Eddie's head snaps up with such surprise it looks as if he might've forgotten you were even there, if such a thing were possible. 

“Just, uh.. Admiring my handiwork.” He grins like he's all-too pleased with himself, dimples poking into his cheeks. 

“It's our handiwork, actually,” You correct playfully, “Half of that's mine, and- No, wait. Actually, 's all mine now.” You tell him triumphantly.

His eyes narrow in confusion and you redirect your gaze pointedly. His attention follows your own, eyes flicking briefly toward his own hand, where the cum has begun to drip slow down his thumb toward the meat of his palm. 

“What, this?” He questions in amusement. 

“Yes that.” You tell him with a frown, “'s mine.” You have to bite back an honest-to-god cackle at the entirely contrived look of betrayal on his face. “Put it back.” You challenge. 

Eddie's eyes roll in irritation as he repeats your words mockingly, his voice thrown high in an exceptionally poor imitation of your own, but he does dutifully drop his hand down between your thighs again to attempt to push the cum back inside you. 

He looks pleased as punch once he's done. He looks at your cunt with a dopey grin on his face, cheeks still pink with exertion and hair wild. 

“Don't miss me too much, pretty. A'right? I'll be seein' you again real soon.” Eddie murmurs softly, eyes never once leaving your cunt. He punctates his words by pressing a gentle kiss to your mound, just a hair's breadth from your clit. 

And then that dumb, dazed smile takes over his face again. 

You squint down at him, “Was.. Were you talking to me or my-”

“Was talkin' to this pretty pussy.” Eddie says matter of factly, stroking his hand over the coarse hairs between your thighs in the way one might pet an animal. 

“Okay.” You manage, laughter preventing you from saying anything else. 

Eddie tugs a large chunk of loose curls across his face and lays his cheek to your upper thigh. He stays like that for a moment, hidden behind the curtain of his hair, big brown eyes blown about as wide as he can manage through his high.

 “..Do you still wanna fuck me?” 

He pouts. It's ridiculous. It's adorable.

You can't pretend to mull it over for more than a few seconds, your cheeks ache with the need to smile. He makes you so happy you feel borderline deranged. 

Your lips quirk up even as you sigh dramatically, “Regrettably? Yes.”  

He fucking cheers. 

He drums his hands enthusiastically against your thighs and yells so loud in victory that all you can do is laugh and cover your ears until he's finished. 

You don't regret it, not a goddamn bit.

[eddiemunson-reader-shame]

My labor of love is finally complete. ❤️

This is a wearable piece of art that I made over the course of months. I meant it to be ready in time for Halloween, but that never manifested.

I tried to make this as screen accurate as possible, mostly because that’s the cosplayer in me wanting accuracy. However, this jacket was a lesson in imperfect perfection.

Being as Eddie Munson himself is an imperfect but still beautiful person, that’s what I went for with my jacket. I wanted to make something that might not be too cookie cutter, but that has history— as well as love and dedication— behind it. I didn’t want to fuck up the sleeve of the leather and put chains on, but I think maybe one day if I find the right kind of chain, I will add them.

The Levi’s Trucker Jacket, the Schott leathers, the Accept button, the Judas Priest pin, and yes, even the Last In Line back patch, are all authentic vintage items I found. I had a mini heart attack with the Dio back patch because I know some metalhead out there is screaming at me for defacing a piece of history, but I had a moment where I thought of all the real metalheads of the olden days who ripped up their shirts to hell in the pit and wore the scraps proudly on their own vests.

And then I didn’t feel so bad when I thought of them, because I knew this item was going to be an art piece that has deep, personal significance to me. I had a Marie Kondo moment where I even thanked the shirt for being part of my art, and for being a significant contributor to something that has personal meaning to me.

I also loved Dio before I liked Eddie, so I’m entitled to make a battle vest with good old Ronnie James’s merch. Bite me.

While working on this piece, I felt so much excitement and pride. Maybe the same feelings Eddie would have felt while making something totally badass. Putting it on feels not only like donning battle armor, but it also feels like a warm, comforting hug. My battle jacket has totally become my new weighted security blanket.

In my delusional little mind, I may sprinkle it with a little bit of Old Spice, have my grass smoking friends blow a little loud on it, and I might even buy a pack of Camels myself just to rub a bit of tobacco in it. Although, that seems a little much, but I must have been a Disney Imagineer in a past life because I dig little details like that.

[whorediaries-09]

hey I love your writing. I’d love if you could do like a James potter x reader where James is smoking and reader finds it really hot and has maybe there in public so she’s just sitting there really turned on and can’t do anything about it ??

hello, love! do you mind if i take a piece of your mind because this idea had me reeling. hehe, thank you for sending in the request!

can't you see, you're meant for me?

pairing- bsfdad!james potter x reader warning(s)-suggestive content, cigarettes. a/n- i'm a sucker for dilf james...sorry not sorry.

ps- this is very short :p. lmk if ya'll would like a part two hehe.

little train

you shouldn't be thinking about his biceps. not when you're out and about in public. but still, your mind doesn't stop reeling. you watch the sun rays reflect on his brown skin, reflecting the stretch marks he's got on his arms. they're beautiful, you think, as the veins pop from within his skin. he inhales another puff from the cigarette, watching as the smoke ascends into the sky.

'want one, love?' he asks.

'no mr. potter,' he huffs.

'i've asked you so many times to not call me that. you know you can call me james,'

'ah-okay, james, i don't want a cigarette.' he laughs.

'i don't think i'd be able to handle two stoners either ways.'

you're listening to him intently. at least that's what he thinks.

your mind however in occupied in the idea of having his hand wrap around your throat, as he'd push you to the wall, kissing you harsh. you imagine his fingers exploring every bit of your bare skin, with his rough calloused hands. you'd let him, happily. and even if deep down you know it was wrong to be fantasizing about your best friend's dad.

god, you couldn't help yourself.

'love, are you listening?' he asked, apparently caught up on the way you'd zoned out. you'd been practically zoned out, mesmerized by his biceps. he threw the cigarette on the ground, crushing it with the sole of his shoe.

you'd been caught. fuck.

'you seem lost, are you okay?' he said, moving towards you. he was wearing a compression sleeveless shirt paired with gray sweatpants. the ultimate outfit to get you reeling and drooling over him.

'i-ah- i zoned out, james. i'm okay,'

he didn't buy your lie. instead, he offered you a wicked smile.

'you are?'

'totally,' you answered, overly cheerful.

'and i totally believe you.' you blushed, cursing yourself internally.

'now tell me, what is your pretty mind thinking about?' he said, moving closer. you stammered, taking a few steps back.

'i-i'm just thinking about-'

'about?' he knew what you'd been thinking about. you could see it in his eyes. in his soft hazel eyes there was a twinge of malice, a twinge of mischief which you could recognize so well. and god forbid it made you so weak in the knees. you closed your eyes, trying to let your heart stop before you spoke the next words,

'you know what i'm thinking about, james.' he smiled lopsidedly, as if greatly amused, running his tongue over this upper row of teeth.

'do i now, love?'

'i think so, yes.' even if you're faking your confidence, he can right see through your act. he can see you crumbling from within as he towers over you, asking you mundane questions. and god does he love the effect he has on you.

he tests the waters, his palm coming closer to your face. you lean towards it, but just as your face is about to touch the crevice of his palm, your best friend shouts,

'oi! papa! i'm coming,' you jump away from him as harry comes running towards james. in your head, you hate how harry came in and ruined the moment. but you're also grateful because you didn't think you'd be able to control yourself if he held your face. however, it was safe to say the ride back home was more torturous than ever.

he kept tapping his fingers on the passenger's seat while he drove, seemingly nonchalant. but boy both of you knew it drove you fucking crazy.

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

taglist - @reggieisfit @siriuslycaptainofthedawntreader @jamespottergf @eternallybipanicking @fictional-magic @iamgayforyourmom1510

(if you want to be tagged please send a request through my inbox.)

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

[just-dreaming-marvel]

Love That Burns ~ 2

LOVE THAT BURNS MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 2,530ish

Summary: You get to know your new teammate James. Stryker's team goes on a mission. (The Reader will continue to call Logan, James throughout the Origins movie and here and there throughout the rest of the series.)

Warnings: violence

Notes: I really couldn't help myself, posting two days in a row. I'm just so excited for this series! The next chapter will be out next week! Reminder: I DO NOT do taglists. Please don’t ask. Please follow and interact! I appreciate any reblogs, likes, comments, and asks! Also, help me decide the endings!

You had basically stayed clear of your new teammates in the week they had been there. You weren’t exactly the welcoming type, focused on not being homeless again. You spent most of your time in your room or working on your abilities. Stryker had made sure there was a firepower room in the facility so that you had a safe place to practice, which others rarely entered.

Fire filled the room as you practiced your powers: throwing the fire, heating and melting items, as well as building walls for protection. As you practiced, you failed to notice James slip into the room. He had gone looking for something to light his cigar and he followed the smell of smoke. When he opened the door and saw you maneuvering the flames, he was mesmerized. James hadn’t known what to think of you, especially when you were clearly avoiding him and Victor. You were a beautiful woman but there was a fire inside of you that he wanted to know more about.

Still not noticing that you had an audience, you shot flames out of your hands at the wall that James was leaning against.

“Shit!” James exclaimed as he jumped away from the fire, his shirt getting singed. With a twist of your wrists, the flames around the room disappeared. “You may want to watch where you're shooting those flames, sweetheart.”

You shrugged. “Didn’t see you. I normally don’t have an audience.”

“Clearly.” James pushed himself off the wall and headed towards you. You noticed the cigar between his fingers and lit it. A flash of surprise went across James’ face. “Thanks.” He took a drag of his cigar before letting the smoke billow out of his mouth. The earthy smell took over your senses and you didn’t mind. “I wanted to apologize for Victor.”

“It’s fine. I’m used to it.”

“Doesn’t make it right.”

You tilted your head slightly as you studied James. Just from the few interactions you had with him, it was clear that James was constantly picking up after his brother. You wondered why.

“You’ve got some ability,” James commented.

“It’s come in handy from time to time. Do you have an ability? I assume you do because Stryker’s really only interested in mutants.”

James held up a fist as three bone claws extended from his knuckles. You couldn’t help but reach out and gently touch them. James watched in wonder. No one had ever looked at his claws the way you were currently, with awe and not fear.

“Is it the same on the other hand?” You asked, fingers still running over the claws.

“Yes,” James responded. When you finally pulled away, James retracted his claws.

“Does that hurt? When they break through your skin?”

James was taken even more back now. No one had ever asked him that. No one had ever cared. “Every time… Does, uh, do the flames hurt your skin?”

“No,” you shook your head. “Well, as long as they come from me.”

James nodded, not knowing what to say next but he did know that he wanted to get to know you more.

“I’m going to go clean up,” you tell him. “See you around, James.”

He nodded, watching you slip out of the room.

~~~

James may not know you well, but he did know one thing. He hated it when Wade was around you. Wade was constantly propositioning you or being incredibly inappropriate. Victor occasionally joined in as well. You simply ignored the comments while James was growing furious.

“Maybe if we both take our shirts off then she’ll—“

“That’s enough,” James growled, cutting off Wade. You were sitting close by, trying to ignore the men by reading a book.

“You want to get in on this Howlett? Or are you just jealous that we have the balls to—“

“I said that’s enough!” Suddenly, James had his claws at Wade’s neck.

“Calm down there, kitty.”

“James, it’s alright,” you told him, standing up. “Let Wade go.”

“Listen to your master, kitty.”

James shoved Wade with a grunt as his claws disappeared. Suddenly, Wade’s hair burst into flames. He began to freak out as you laughed, leaving the room. James followed, the anger still controlling him. You entered your room, leaving the door open for James. He found you and leaned against the door frame. 

“You don’t need to fight by battles, James,” you told him as you tidied up.

“They shouldn’t be talking about you like that,” his voice was still rough and filled with anger.

“I’m used to it. People talked before Stryker found me.”

James had never heard about your life before this and was interested to learn more. He stepped into the room and closed the door before leaning against it.

“I was homeless for years,” you continued. “I used my abilities to steal but that never gave me a bed to sleep in. So, sometimes, I would sell my body for money and a bed for a night.” James inhaled sharply. “Sometimes there were multiple men and women involved. They often talked about my body like I wasn’t even there. I just ignore it.”

“I’m sorry.”

You looked at him curiously. “What for?”

“You shouldn’t have had to deal with any of that and continue to deal with it.”

You shrugged. “The price I pay to meet my basic needs.”

“Doesn’t make it right, sweetheart.”

“Well, there’s nothing I can do to change that… This life is better than homelessness.”

James hated how right you were and how okay you were with the way the others treated you. He wished so badly that he could fix it and he would do his best to try.

~~~

While the other men continued to talk the way they did, James made sure to continue to be sweet and gentle with you. He tried to not make it obvious, saving some things for when the two of you were alone. You wouldn’t admit it, but your interactions with James were making you feel things you never thought you would. You enjoyed how sweet and caring he was, always looking out for you during missions and making sure you were okay afterward. The two of them began training together, eating together, and even just sitting in silence together. You would be reading while he puffed at a cigar. It was nice. The closest thing you could get to domestic bliss in your life. 

James hated flying, which you quickly realized on his first mission with the team. That is why you were currently sitting next to him on the jet. He was leaning forward, elbows on his thighs, with his hands together, almost like he was praying. You were sitting close enough that your thighs were brushing each other, hoping that the small touch would help.

“You know, I love this weapon more than any other thing in the whole wide world,” Wade said as he sharpened one of his swords. “Do you wanna know why?”

“No,” Victor replied.

“It’s memorable. Sure, it’s a little bulky, tough to get on a plane. You whip out a couple of cowards at your ex-girlfriend’s wedding, they will never, ever forget it.”

“That’s funny, Wade. I think you confuse me with someone who gives a shit.”

“Right, it’s probably not as intimidating as having a gun or bone claws or fire. Or even the fingernails of a bag lady.” Victor’s claws grew out while Wade gripped his sword tighter. Wade held up his sword filer. “Manicure?”

“Victor,” James tone was one of warning, “easy.”

“Fred got a new tattoo. I’m concerned.” Wade was always one to jump from topic to topic.

James looked past you to see the new tattoo on Fred’s arm. “Oh, geez, Fred, you just met her last night.”

“I love her,” Fred said, getting emotional.

“You love her after one night?”

“She’s a gymnast.”

“I’m sure she’s great,” you told Fred, patting his leg.

“Bradley, take her down,” Stryker ordered. The jet began to descend with a turn.

“Oh, God,” James groaned, leaning forward again.

“Are you gonna puke?” Fred asked, taking a bite of a protein bar.

“If we were meant to fly, we’d grow wings.”

“Don’t worry, Nancy,” Zero said. “More people die driving than flying.”

“How about from impaling?”

“Hey, be nice,” John told James, “or be your approximation of nice. Would you like a bucket?”

“No,” James grunted as he tried to calm his stomach.

You placed a hand on his back, rubbing small circles on it. You could not care less about the others watching you and James. 

“Gentlemen, Y/N, wheels down in Lagos in five,” Stryker announced.

~~~

Stryker led the team to a taller building at the edge of the city. It was heavily guarded with tanks and armed men.

“Why are we here?” James asked.

“All in good time,” responded Stryker. “Zero?”

Zero stepped up, getting all the guns aimed at him before he started firing. He flipped over the large fence as he fired and defeated the men he could see. 

“Having fun yet?” Victor asked you and James before he ran over to the gate Zero had just opened.

Victor ran to the building and began using his claws to scale it. The team heard a tank arm up nearby.

“Fred?” Stryker called.

“The tank?” Fred wondered.

“The tank.”

“Yeah, I got that.”

Fred came over to the tank and punched his fist into it before the controller fired. The shot hit Fred’s fist before backfiring, exploding the tank. Stryker led the rest of you into the building and onto the elevator. Bradley, Wade, and John were standing in front, near the doors, while Fred, Stryker, James, and yourself were in the back. James made sure that you were in the corner so that he could cover you if needed. The elevator was playing office music before the power was cut and it stopped.

“Great,” Wade said. “Stuck in an elevator with five guys on a high-protein diet and a fiery bitch.”

“Watch it, bud,” James growled.

“Wade,” Stryker warned.

“Dreams really do come true.”

“Just shut it! You’re up next.”

“Thank you, sir. You look really nice today. It’s the green. It brings out the seriousness in your eyes. Though the black really brings out Y/N’s—“

“Oh my God. Do you ever shut up, pal?” James could never stand Wade for long periods of time.

“No. Not when I’m awake.”

“Bradley? Top floor, please,” Stryker requested.

Bradley quickly used his powers to bring the elevator up to the top floor. As soon as the elevator reached the top floor, James pushed you further into the corner and covered you. Stryker moved to stand between you two and Bradley. The doors opened and gunshots immediately followed. Wade twirled his words around, effectively preventing himself from taking a bullet. It wasn’t long until everyone was dead beside the boss at the front desk.

“Okay. People are dead,” Wade announced.

“If you didn’t have that mouth on you, Wade, you’d be the perfect soldier,” Stryker stated as he walked out of the elevator and toward the sole survivor. 

James made sure that you were at his side, always ready to jump in to protect you at a moment’s notice. The sole survivor reached for a gun from under his desk but John teleported, quickly stopping him.

“I wouldn’t do that if I was you, brother,” John warned.

“Take the diamonds,” the man said. “They’re yours.”

“I don’t want your diamonds,” replied Stryker. “I want this.” He took a piece of rock that was sitting on the man’s desk.

“But that is nothing. A souvenir.”

“Where did you find it? I want the source.”

“A small village, far inland, three days from here.”

~~~

Mere hours later, the team was in that small village. The villagers had been gathered up, kept close together by a ring of fire you were controlling. Stryker was holding up the stolen rock to the village leader while Wade was there translating.

“I don’t like this,” James muttered to you. The heat you had created had forced him to take off his shirt, leaving his white tank top.

“Me either,” you responded. You glanced around as Wade and Stryker talked to the village leader. The villagers were all terrified and you hated that you were a part of that.

“He’s telling the truth,” James tried to vouch for the leader.

“You don’t know the language, Logan,” Stryker dismissed.

“It’s a meteor fragment.”

“I know what it is. I’m asking him where he found it.”

“Sir,” Bradley called, “base wants to know our location.”

“Shut them down.”

“Yes.”

Stryker leaned toward the kneeling leader. “Tell him everyone here will die unless he tells me where he the found rock.”

Wade quickly translated and received a response. “He says that it’s sacred.”

“Okay, fine,” Stryker stood up straight and turned to Victor. “Victor.” He placed a hand on the mutant’s shoulder before walking a few steps away, keeping his back to everyone.

Victor quickly killed the reader, causing the villagers to cry out. You extinguished the circle of flames as the other members of the team began killing the villagers. You stumbled back at the sight forcing James to steady you. In all your time with this team, you had never gone after innocents. James ran towards Victor grabbing his wrist before he could kill another innocent man.

“Victor!” James roared. “Don’t even think about it.” You noticed that your other teammates gripped their weapons tighter, prepared to fight each other. “We didn’t sign up for this. Put him down.”

Victor let go of the villager as he ripped his wrist from James’ grip. “What are you doing?” Victor questioned through panting breaths. “We finally got a good thing going here. Don’t you screw this up.”

“Enough. That’s enough. We’ve done enough.”

“Who do you think you are? This is what we do. Maybe you’d rather be rotting in a hole somewhere till they figure out a way to do it to us. Is that it? Huh?”

“I’m done. You coming?” When Victor didn’t give an immediate answer. James turned and walked to you. “Y/N. Come with me.”

“I—I can’t,” you were terrified of losing the comfort you had found.

“I promise that you will have a bed and food and clothes. I will take care of you.”

“Don’t do it, Y/N,” Stryker said, taking a step forward. “He can’t make those promises. You’ll be back on the streets.”

“I will never let that happen.” He held out his hand. “Come with me.”

You briefly looked past James to see Stryker angrily staring you down before you focused back on James. With a shaky hand, you reached out and took James’. He squeezed it before he began leading you away.

“Jimmy!” Victor yelled, causing James to stop and turn. “We can’t just let you two walk away.” James ripped off his dog tags before throwing them to the ground, you quickly did the same.

James made sure he had a good grip on your hand before the two of you disappeared into the forest, Victor calling after James. 

next chapter >

[on-a-lucky-tide]

Nik misunderstands Soap's call sign. Ends up in a little heart to heart with Gaz.

CW: none.

They're back at base after a particularly gnarly jaunt through the arse end of the world. Ghost has his arm in a sling, Soap's battered, Price has an ice pack against his lower back, and Gaz has a black eye and lost a molar after taking a rifle butt to the jaw during a scuffle. Nik's sitting rosey for the most part; his bird has a few extra bullet holes but he'd soon patch those up.

They end up in the hanger after medical has finished with them, too exhausted even to drag their arses to bed. They pass around a bottle of Ghost's bourbon, while Nik and Price share a cigar. They're sitting in companionable silence, reflecting on how close they'd come to a six foot and a half wooden box planted in the only bit of real estate they'd ever be able to afford on an army salary, and then...

"Nik," Soap says as he swirls the bourbon around in its bottle, "s'yer call sign, aye? Not yer birth name."

"Da," Nik replies, offering nothing more as he exhales a cloud of smoke and passes the cigar over his shoulder to Price. They're sitting back to back, because it lets Price keep the ice pack in place without holding it, no other reason.

Soap relinquishes the bottle into Gaz's custody and sniffs, leaning back on his palms, legs thrown across at the ankle. "Where's it come from?"

"It is from Nikolai Krasnov. He was a hero fighter pilot in the Second World War. Four hundred sorties, one hundred aerial battles and forty-one enemies shot down," Nik considers the tumbler of vodka in front of him; he doesn't drink bourbon because it gives him heartburn, "also Nikolai Gastello, Nikolai Gusarov... All awarded highest honours. It is a name with, what do you say, a pedigree."

"That's pretty cool, N--" Gaz starts, but Soap scoffs, taking the bourbon back.

"Mate, n'aw, that's proper old man that is. Yer half way t' watchin' the History Channel on a recliner."

Nik raises an eyebrow. "Is better than all of you."

"Oh aye?"

"Da. Price is Bravo-Six because he is boring," Nik says, and Price nods solemnly, clearly a little banjaxed on a combination of the vodka Nik is sharing with him and the bourbon that crosses his path every now and then. Nik gestures at Ghost. "He is Ghost, which is like a James Bond novel villain, no?" Ghost's eyes flicker, "Gaz is new... He gets a pass--"

"Cheers, Nik."

"--you are welcome sergeant, and you," Nik points two fingers at Soap, "you are Soap because you are the lieutenant's bottom."

Soap sprays bourbon through his nose, Gaz barks a laugh and then creases over in stitches, and Price chokes on the lungful of cigar smoke he's halfway through. Ghost pinches his nose through his mask.

"Fuckin' hell, Nik, I can't--I can't breathe!" Gaz rolls onto his back, arms clasped over his abdomen.

Soap blusters. "Oh aye, feckin hilarious. How'd ye figure that one out then?"

"When your diet is as bad as yours, there is a need to--"

"Nik! Tha's not--I mean, me and him, how'd'ye get that in yer heid?"

Nik glances between Soap and Ghost like they're pulling one over on him. "The flirting over the radio, you are always together, you are grumpy when apart, you--Captain, you--"

Price blows a puff of smoke towards the roof of the hanger and passes the remains of the cigar over his shoulder. "Nope, nah," he flaps a hand, hiccups, and rolls onto his front like he's about to low-crawl his way out. "You're on your own 'ere, mate, urgh, fuck... Need a slash... then bed."

"Coward," Nik huffs.

"Yep." Price stumbles to his feet, nearly nuts the tail of the helicopter they're sitting near, and hobbles away with a quiet groan, leaving Nik to face down a red-eared Soap and a stoic Ghost; Gaz is cackling into the bottle of bourbon.

"Nah, he's right, time to call it a night. We're up at 0600 for a debrief," Ghost says finally.

Nik frowns. "Lieutenant, I am sorry if I have offended. I have clearly misread the situation, and--"

"Soap got his call sign because he's good at cleaning house; he's quick, accurate," Ghost rolls to his feet with remarkable grace considering his injury and the volume of bourbon currently in his bloodstream, "besides, I would bottom. I have impeccable gut health."

Soap barks a laugh. "Eh, good one, L.T.." Ghost looks at him; it's a lingering, rather hungry gaze that stretches a little beyond their usual homoerotic banter, but he says nothing and turns before Soap can fully digest it. Soap's smile vanishes into wide-eyed bewilderment, and he stumbles to his feet, calling after Ghost with one outstretched hand. "Oi, sir... Ye... Sir, for real? Was that a--? L.T., wait up. Sir!"

Gaz and Nik watch them leave, and once Ghost's plentiful arse and Soap's flailing self are out of sight, Gaz grins. "Hollow points, RVs and relationships, best fixer in the biz. Well played."

Nik grins back and they clink their bottles together. "It was too good an opportunity."

"Excellent form, mate. Is there anythin' you can't fix?"

Nik hums as he swigs his vodka, glancing towards the door that Price had vanished through moments prior. Gaz sighs. "Oh yeah, how's it going with the captain? You taken him on a date yet?"

"Is it that obvious?"

"Mate, mate, being between you two when it's just us three on ops is cringe. Not quite as bad as them," Gaz juts his chin after Ghost and Soap, "but fuck me, I could puke."

"I am sorry."

"Don't be. You're an open book. Captain Oblivious needs to open his eyes. Could shoot a gnat's bollocks off at a thousand metres but he misses you chasing his tail like a puppy. It's insane."

Nik huffs. "I have asked Laswell for advice."

"Oh yeah? I bet she loved that."

"She has said he has a phrase... What is it, 'you should not shit where you eat'," Nik says sadly.

"Oof, yeah, that sounds like Price," Gaz pats Nik on the back of the shoulder, "so, what? Calling off the mission?"

"Nyet, never. I am Russian; the pining and heartbreak, it is all part of the romance. But I will only take a happy ending, no tragedy. Price will be mine."

Gaz laughs. "Fair," he raises his bottle in a toast, "to romance and happy endings."

Nik meets Gaz's bottle. "Of all kinds, my brother." He wriggles his eyebrows and Gaz cracks up cackling again.

[agroteraa]

Actaeon

Oliver Quick x f!Reader

My fic masterlist

Part 1.

Part 2: Artemis

Part 3.1: The Wrath of the Stag (ch.1)

Part 3.2: The Wrath of the Stag (ch.2)

Warnings: smut, voyeurism, masturbation, fingering, light choking.

Word Count: 5K

"Venetia! I also wanted to..."

But she had already triumphantly closed the bathroom door. You slammed the door a couple of times, but all you heard in response was the muffled sound of water and a Paris Hilton song blasting from the speakers that were in that room. She would definitely listen to the entire album during her bath procedures, and certainly more than once.

Clearly, this would take a long time. It was too long to wait - you'd been shivering from the cold. Nothing special had happened, you just opened the window in your room and were so engrossed in reading a book that you forgot about everything in the world. The summer days in Saltburn were hot, but still the nights gave you chills sometimes. So, every fascination has its price to pay.

The second bathroom in your wing of the house broke down tonight. That was bad, because the servants could not cope on their own, and it was too late to call the plumbing, and there was no such urgent need when there were several bathrooms. It was a pity the senior Cattons didn’t know that when Venetia used to occupy the only bathroom nearby, that was indeed the most urgent need.

You didn't want to bother Felix and Venetia's parents, much less use their bathroom. James and Elspeth were friends of your parents and this was far from your first summer in Saltburn, but still it would be somehow too inconvenient, they were not your uncle and aunt, after all. There was also no question about the servants' bathroom, it seemed even more inconvenient for you to occupy a bathroom that was used by more than 10 people at once.

There was only one option left if you wanted to lie in the bath for as long as you wanted so that no one would bother you, and right now.

You went down to the living room, where you could hear the sound of the TV. Felix was sitting next to Oliver, smoking a cigarette, switching channels and talking cheerfully to his friend.

"Hey Felix!" you spoke to the guy, and he turned to you, his face reflecting the blue light from the TV in the semi-darkness.

"Yes, Y/N?" he smiled.

"Mm... Can I use your bathroom now? We’ve got one tub malfunctioning, and Venetia got stuck in the other, deciding to do Live at Saltburn's Bathroom 2007, no less..."

You specifically said "your bathroom," looking at Felix the whole time. It was more correct to address both guys at once, but you just couldn't look into Oliver's eyes like that and ask him to use his bathroom with Felix.

"Say no more," he grinned, "Of course! Go ahead, enjoy yourself!"

"Thank you," you smiled and nodded at him, and at that moment you finally looked at Oliver. Unlike you, he had been doing nothing but staring at you all this time. You looked into his blue eyes on a face that was bathed in blue light, which made his eyes seem even more piercing. But he never said anything, absolutely nothing. His expression was unreadable. Was he offended that you didn't address him?

You smiled shyly at Oliver, nodded too, and left the room, bumping into Farleigh in the doorway, who was carrying a large pack of crisps.

"Hello, Y/N! How are you... hey Felix, did you switch that reality show that I was watching?!"

"Of course, yes, because no one wants to watch it except you," Felix replied.

"What? It's "Big Brother", actually! Yes, it's a great show, and we all need a little drama sometimes late in the evening! I bet Oliver likes it too. Yes, Oliver?"

"Oh, please!" Felix rolled his eyes and teasingly began to put the remote away from the hands of the approaching Farleigh.

You chuckled and finally left the room. You never looked at Oliver again, but you could swear that you felt his gaze burning into your back.

God, could he really be offended? Or maybe you did something or said something before and didn't realize it? It seems that Oliver had been noticing a lot, but always kept everything to himself.

Oliver, this guy. You met him at Oxofrd and you chatted and even went to some pubs with him and Felix a few times, but you didn't understand what he was like then. To tell the truth, you still had no idea, but the main reason why you were afraid to look him in the eye when you asked about the bathroom was that you thought he would immediately feel and find out about the crush that had been developing for him for the second month now of your growing closer with him here, in Saltburn.

The only thing you could say for sure was that he was not as insecure and awkward himself as you thought at university, rather he was silent and observant, knowing the value of himself, his words and actions. Attentively listening and being generally deep. His inner confidence and even some kind of mystery began to intrigue you in earnest.

Walking through the corridors of the beautiful old manor, you thought to yourself that you were even glad that everything turned out that way with your bathrooms. The thought of you lying in the same hot tub that Oliver lied almost every night strangely excited and turned you on.

You reached the right room, looking around - it was quiet and cozy. You immediately started taking water into the bathroom, and while you were waiting, you started walking in circles. Here was Felix's bathroom table, next to which his red robe was carelessly hung, two crushed toothpastes and a brush with slightly protruding bristles. You imagined that he was brushing his teeth with the speed and power of a blender in order to quickly deal with this chore and get down to much more interesting things that another day had prepared for him.

You laughed softly at this thought, and then went over to Oliver's side.

Everything was surprisingly neat in contrast to his neighbor, one almost full paste, one brush, two neatly folded towels. You wonder where his robe was. Did he come and go without it?

Gods, you started to think about something wrong. But it was too late – you already started imagining Oliver in his underwear, how he comes into this bathroom, takes them off and lies down in a hot tub… Or maybe he comes and goes here right away without underwear? Ugh... that's enough.

You decided not to lock the door from Felix's room - the boys were obviously absorbed in domination for the telly, besides, they know that you were here, so you just loosely closed the door. No one should come in.

The bathtub was almost full of water, you impatiently took off your clothes and decided to put them together with your bathrobe... where? You didn't want to go to Oliver's side - it was too minimalistic and clean. And besides, it seemed like... too intimate for some reason. But Felix's side would tolerate it, also there were a couple of spare towels in the corner that you forgot to take.

You carefully lowered yourself into the bath, the hot water started nibbling your skin. God, it felt so good. You gradually began to stretch and relax.

There was something about lying in an empty room in the bath while the water was still bubbling. The light was pleasantly dimmed, and the air in the room was gradually getting hot and sticky. This kind of environment had always calmed you down and turned you on at the same time. Except that there was a lot more of the excitement this night rather than the calming.

Thoughts of Oliver came back to you. The way he leaves his room, comes into this very bathroom, fills it just like you did. He lies down in it, as you were lying now, inhales hot air and breathe out even hotter air. Beads of sweat are gathering on his body. And you'd already seen his body too many times while you were swimming or sunbathing. Even you, being more of a face girl rather than a six-pack girl, could not sometimes look away, it was good that most of the time you were wearing sunglasses and he hardly noticed anything. Usually you rather admired his face and beautiful eyes, but now, in your fantasies, his eyes were closed, so your imagination stopped at his beautiful figure and, without too much modesty, began to write it out in details.

You couldn't help yourself, except…

The fingers on your left hand began to lightly brush your lips from left to right, you felt your own hot breath. You wondered if they were…

Then the hand began to descend lower, to your breasts, gently cupping one breast. Fingers slowly drew circles around your nipple, and then squeezed it, causing you to bite your lip and inhale sharply.

...if it were his hands, then....

The water was hot, but the heat below you was even stronger. Unable to resist it, your hand moved even lower, carefully making its way through your folds. You started caressing yourself. All these stoked emotions, tension, unspoken words lately, it was all too much. Of course, when you turned to Felix, the first thing you thought about was that it wasn't him using this bathroom, but someone else. What if he did it too, right here in this place?

...You wonder if those were his hands, would they have caressed you the same way?

This and the previous thoughts and the briefly popped images in your head finally brought you to the peak.

"Oliver..." you whispered loudly, unable to keep that name on your lips.

He almost gave himself away at this point.

Of course, you weren't alone all this time. While Felix and Farleigh were arguing over the right to own the remote, Oliver sat next to them, unable to believe that this was happening. You were going to his bathroom. Of course, in his thoughts now (and maybe in his plans for the future) it wasn't just you and Felix's bathroom, no. You, lying in his bathtub, was the only way to say it correctly and so... luscious.

He was already preoccupied with these thoughts from the very beginning, when you innocently asked Felix about the bathroom, and was just waiting for the right moment to slip away from this company. Fortunately, Elspeth soon joined them, and James came in after her, so, thanks to new guests in the room and the still ongoing discussion about what the Catton family would be watching on TV that evening, Oliver was able to slip away without much difficulty.

He impatiently followed your footsteps, counting in his head whether it was enough time to pass for you to look around there, fill the bath, lie down in it and start relaxing. Thinking about the last words, Oliver began to tense up in a certain sense and in a certain place. Yes, he decided, enough time had passed.

Very quietly, he walked through Felix's dark room to the crack in the door, which left a narrow strip of light from the next room. You were lying in the bath. God, it was a pity that he missed the moment when you took off your clothes and lay down there, but it was also good. He would see everything again, and very soon.

Oliver breathed very quietly and slowly.

God, how beautiful you were, even that small part of your body that could be seen from the bathroom and was also limited to the door crack was inexpressibly beautiful to him. He felt like an ancient Greek myths character, some kind of satyr watching the bathing of a beautiful nymph. No, the goddess. He thought of himself as Actaeon, and you were now his Artemis, taking your bath. A hunter who made his way to the goddess of hunting in the forest and was punished for his excessive curiosity, desires and impatience.

It was also some kind of forbidden act, as if he had actually made his way into the sacred grove. The grove was sacred, but he was glaring at you in a completely blasphemous manner. If he had got to be turned into a stag or something, he was willing to pay the price right now. Every fascination has its price to pay. Although no, not right now.…

Oliver was breathing very quietly and slowly, but soon his breathing became heavier and heavier.

It was too much when you started slowly running your hand over your body, starting with your lips and going lower and lower.

His mouth involuntarily opened in amazement, and then his jaw clenched, and he gnashed his teeth almost audibly. He bit his lip. It was impossible to tolerate, no. His own hand also began to slowly descend.

What was he counting on? Probably just to see you lying in his tub, left to yourself. He didn’t know himself. But for some reason, he did not hope for what was happening at that moment. What or who is Y/N thinking about now? He would give a lot to know that. And he would give everything to change the answer to his own name.

His excitement and despair grew within him every passing second.

He did not calculate exactly what happened next. Or rather, he could have guessed only in his wildest dreams. But it must be said, Oliver always had wildest dreams, which he quickly began to believe in.

"Oliver..." - the acoustics of the bathroom and the silence around gave away your secret, and the sensitive hearing of the bearer of this name picked it out unmistakably.

At that moment, the pupils of his eyes widened to their limit, as if he had just learned the most important secret of the universe, which he had longed to possess all his life. To some extent, even on the modest scale of human life and the moment, this was exactly the case.

So, yes. All this time Y/N was thinking about him. Not about Felix. Not about Farleigh. God, it was not even about Venetia or anyone else. About him. About Oliver. About Oliver Quick.

He smiled broadly at the thought that his observations, his intuition and his wildest dreams had met at a single point of truth. He knew that he hadn't made much of an impression on you in those brief meetings you had at Oxford. But you made an impression on him, and that was enough. He was good at waiting, and he was even better at planning. All this getting closer with Felix, this whole year – it was all for you first of all. He knew that you were friends, that you were the daughter of his parents' friends, and that you were often invited to stay at the Catton family estate, and he did everything to get there too. Yes, even if he didn't make a big first impression on you, even if you didn't study together, even if Felix didn't study with you and your paths didn’t cross often enough to communicate a lot at Oxford, but Oliver knew the place where all this would happen. In Saltburn.

That was why he’d been working very hard for the last two months – even if he wasn't always a good conversationalist, he was a great listener and an even better observer. You began getting closer, and he clearly caught your attention. But to what extent, even Oliver was not sure. It seemed that you communicated with Felix and Farleigh with much more ease, even flirting a little. And not only with them, in general, your ease was expressed in communicating with anyone. With anyone but him. More and more often, you began to avoid his gaze, felt visually uncomfortable, stiffed when you were alone with him, and felt a clear relief when someone joined your company. Did you really get to know him better, and the initial indifference became a constant awkwardness in his presence? Oliver was very afraid of that. And deep down he hoped that this way you could just mask your affection for him, because sometimes people do that. This was also present in him to some extent, or rather, it used to be, because Oliver Quick decided to bury his insecurity and shyness deep inside himself. He was not quite done with it yet, but oh the boy was trying, he was trying very hard. He wanted to kill everything in himself that prevents him from becoming who he desired to be and getting what he wanted. Or who he wanted.

That brief smile changed again to a soundlessly open mouth that almost gave out a groan. Oliver held his hand tightly on his crotch, holding onto the wall with his other hand so that his knuckles turned white. After that confession of yours, Oliver was ready to burst into the bathroom at the same second, but no. He would restrain himself, he would not do that. He would be smarter than Actaeon.

He was really able to keep his composure and wait for you to relax and move away from your blessed condition a little, diving into the water a little deeper and slightly closing his eyes from pleasure and calmness that came to you. He moved noiselessly to the other side of the room. He exhaled deeply. Oliver looked at the half-finished can of Red Bull that had been on Felix's bedside table near the entrance for almost a week. Now it was time to act.

You heard footsteps approaching and shivered, opening your eyes.

"Knock, knock! May I come in?" a familiar voice asked sweetly and quite lively.

"Oliver? What are you..." you started, but he interrupted you by going into the bathroom, without waiting for your invitation or even more so for a refusal.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I need to change my clothes urgently," he began guiltily, "I-I'm not looking!"

He was actually walking past you, covering his face with his hand.

"What's happened?" you asked, half rising from the tub.

"I spilled a drink on myself. It's so unsuitable, because this is a shirt that Felix recently gave me, so that I, quote, "won’t wear the same thing over and over again, otherwise it upsets mother, we're not some kind of paupers here, she said to him." This is so damn awkward," he said frustratedly.

"Yes, of course, come in. It's okay."

"Thank you, Y/N! Once again, I'm sorry for the suddenness."

Oliver disappeared and rummaged in his room for a while, and then knocked again, but this time from the side of his own door.

"Yes? Do you want to go back?"

"Yes. And no. Not quite. It seems that I need to wash my shirt right now, before the stain is completely dry..."

"Can you just leave the shirt to the maids?"

"No, no! Disturbing people at such a late hour...And again, until I find someone and get there..."

"Yeah, you're probably right. Come in... if you won’t be watching,"

"While I'm washing my shirt, I won't," Oliver smiled.

He entered the room with his eyes closed in a caricature manner and showed a white shirt with a dark yellow Red Bull stain on the shirt hanging in his outstretched arms. He was wearing white tank top and black trousers, which were only left part from his dinner costume. He also took off his shoes.

"Yeah, I see it. Maybe you can wash it with soap or something?"

"Yes, that's exactly what I'm going to do now," Oliver went to his sink under a mirror, starting to wash the stain.

You didn't promise not to look. This view of him, the combination of a formal suit with something casual, formed a knot in your stomach. The white tank top that accentuated his slender torso and exposed his muscular arms so well, which were now busy doing laundry, black suit trousers that hugged his legs and ass in such a nice way, as well as the fact that he was standing barefoot in the bathroom, created a feeling of some kind of intimacy. Few people could see him like this even in this house, as if you came from some sort of gala dinner, and now you saw him in the process of changing clothes between some business. It was like you came together, and this was just your house, and that only you were allowed to see this semi-domestic, yet at the same time very sexy look. You inhaled the air quite sharply.

He didn't promise not to watch either. Therefore, the smile slipped from his face, since you did not see him from this angle, from where he could watch you through the mirror while washing his shirt, completely not looking at it. The smile faded because he could barely contain himself again. He was breathing heavily the hot and sticky air of the bathroom. Damn if only could he pounce and ravish you right now, in this very bath. Oliver was reveling in the way you were looking at him, the way you were looking at him now, thinking that he didn't notice it. Your sharp sigh was the last drop.

"Thinking about something?" Oliver asked you in an even tone.

"What? Oh, no, I just, uh..."

"It's weird, I thought I heard your voice when I first came in here. Did you talk to someone?"

"Of course not, because it's just me... and you."

"I could swear you were talking to someone..." Oliver said wistfully.

You felt the heat in the still hot bath water again, only now your face was burning. Did he hear you muttering his name? It couldn't be, could it have happened before he came in? Or did you not remember something? You were so relaxed. And now you were tensing up, afraid that he would find out your little, or rather, very, very big secret, which you were afraid to fully admit even to yourself.

"I... don't..."

Oliver sighed and stopped washing his shirt, turning to you and leaning on his table. He stared at you unblinkingly, arms crossed over his chest. You instinctively gasped and covered your chest with your hands, crossing your legs.

"My dear, I don't bite. Be a good girl and tell me who you were thinking about while lying in that bathtub, mm?"

"You promised not to look!" It seems like your face couldn't be any redder than it was now.

"I said I wouldn't look while I’d be washing my shirt," Oliver raised both hands in front of him, looking straight into your eyes, "As you can see, I'm done with it."

"But I’m not done with you at all," he thought to himself and slowly began to approach you from behind.

"Oliver, what are you-"

"Shh," he knelt down and gently put his hands on your shoulders, carefully gathering your wet hair to the center of your neck, "I won't look if you want, but let me apologize for my intrusion, I didn't mean to bother you."

He began to gently massage your shoulders, as the pads of his thumbs moved to your neck. You sighed softly and shifted your legs. It seems like both halves of your body were burning equally badly now.

"That's it, good girl," he cooed softly, exhaling hot air almost into your ear. His measured breathing burned your neck, "So, will you tell me who you were thinking about while lying in this tub?"

He asked the question as if he knew the answer to it. You wanted terribly and didn't want to tell him at the same time. It seems that even if you wanted to, the words were stuck in your throat. His long fingers began to tighten, moving slightly towards your neck. "I won't leave it until you tell me yourself." You twitched your legs again. Were you scared or did it turn you on? It seems to be both.

"And please don't hide with your hands from me, yeah? Do you know how fuckin' beautiful you are?" he took one hand off from your neck and gently pushed your hand away, taking up space under your breasts. There was a complete silence in the room. He moved a little to the left side of the tub. At that moment, your eyes met, and everything inside you turned upside down. His beautiful blue eyes were now almost dark with longing. His breathing was slow and heavy, shaking the already hot and sticky air between your faces. The tension was too strong to resist. Yes, it seems that your feelings towards each other were mutual.

Your lips slowly met, and then everything was like a blur. After a short while, Oliver sensually ran his tongue over your lower lip, asking for an invitation to come in. You opened your mouth a little more, where he immediately had slipped with his tongue, leisurely enjoying every corner of your mouth as much as possible. Then he broke the kiss in the lips just to kiss your collarbone without breaking your visual contact. You remembered that his other hand was resting under your chest, and now it began to stroke your skin and climb higher. Oliver began caressing your breasts just the way you had done before – first cupping it in his hand, and then slowly began to lead circles around your nipple until he squeezed it lightly. You cried out softly with pleasure.

"So, darling? And now you're going to tell me who you were thinking about...?"

If earlier words did not come out of you because of surprise and sensation of a slight fear, now they did not come out of you because of excitement and disbelief in what was happening in general. Oliver grinned, closing his eyes, lowering and shaking his head a bit. Then he stood up and, cupping your face in his hands, kissed you again. But this time the kiss was greedy, almost immediately his tongue penetrated you mouth, without asking for any permission now. But you didn't need it, you almost moaned into his lips in response. One of his hands moved from your cheek to your neck and began to squeeze it lightly.

After breaking the kiss, he looked at you again. It seems that now you were ready to reveal his name, but decided not to do so, to see what would happen next, gathering all the remnants of your weakening will, and silently looked at him in response. Oliver seemed to catch this mood and, giving you a dark excitement smile, took a step back, removing one hand from your throat and moving it to your inner thigh. His other hand was on your chest again. Your body covered with goosebumps under the water. He entered you with one finger, and you finally let out a real moan. Smiling with satisfaction, he added his second finger and increased the pace. The water started splashing out of the bathtub from your fidgeting and legs movements. The hand that rested on your breast began to squeeze it, and the thumb massaged your nipple rougher and rougher. You began to moan more often and louder under the caresses of your uninvited, but such a welcome guest. Perhaps it was more correct to say that you were the guest, and he was more like the host here, but your already confused thoughts were interrupted by his hoarse and authoritative voice, "Who were you thinking about lying here, touching yourself? Whose hands were you imagining at that moment?"

You just moaned in response, and he picked up the pace.

"Say the name, say it out loud"

"Oh... Oliver! It was you, Oliver."

"Yes," his eyes narrowed slightly, his gaze darkened even more, and his mouth let out a soundless moan full of satisfaction at what he had heard. He had experienced complete moral satisfaction, and now he would give you a physical one.

He bent down to you more, greedily and sloppily kissing you, without taking his hands off caressing your body, he added the third finger, and in less than a minute you came loudly under his fingers.

You were breathing heavily, just like Oliver himself. You looked at each other, both of you had a swarm of thoughts and a hurricane of feelings in your heads. "Good, sweet Y/N. I'm so glad that tonight turned out that way," he kissed you again, sweetly and almost innocently. He sat on his knees by the bath for a while and just looked at you. You started to get embarrassed again and looked away.

"I'm sorry, you probably need some time alone, and they've probably been waiting for me downstairs. The shirt still needs to be hung up to dry!" he said cheerfully, getting up from his knees, quickly taking the shirt from the sink and disappearing into his room. When he returned, you saw that he was wearing shoes again, and another shirt was thrown over his tank top.

"Have a pleasant late evening, Y/N! If you're not tired, join us in the living room," Oliver smiled at you, and then, already standing in the aisle, added quite nicely but firmly, "And if you want or need to use this room again, put your things down and take towels from my half of the bathroom, hmm?"

With these words, he left the room, leaving you in a storm of feelings and once again thinking how observant and puzzling he was sometimes, as it may not seem at first.

He was over the moon, but of course he would like to get a lot more out of you than he got today. But he knew how to wait, a good hunter should be able to do it, and today Oliver praised himself that he did it perfectly. Actaeon was considered the best out of the mortal hunters.

He was running, almost flying down the estate towards the living room. The Cattons were probably watching some nonsense there, as they always did. But he didn't care, because all his thoughts were about tomorrow night, hoping that you would come to use his bathroom again. Hoping that Venetia would occupy your bathroom again for a long enough time, and if she wouldn't, then maybe he would consider clogging of the second tub.

Oliver knew how to wait, and even better he knew how to act at the right moment.

Surely, he would surpass Actaeon himself.

[fairy-writes]

Would it be too much to ask for a William James Moriarty x Holmes sister reader? Like she's a travelling archaeologist/anthropologist who's a genius in the field and has found many artifacts and lost cities and can be a bit of an eccentric looney like her older brother Sherly but she's also incredibly kind to those in need and often donates her treasures to the less fortunate and even helps Sherly from time to time which is how he meets her and is impressed by her smarts and sarcastic wits. Also, a bit of a parkour junky likes to wear mens clothes tailored for her measurements and often wears her hair in loose buns or ponytails and loves riding horseback much to Mycroft's displeasure🤭

A BUSINESS PROPOSAL

Reblogs and Comments are greatly appreciated!!

__________________________________________________________________________

Fandom(s): Moriarty the Patriot

Pairing(s): William James Moriarty x Reader

Word Count: 3k

Genre(s)/Tag(s): Female!Reader, Holmes!Reader, Mildly sexist behavior from Mycroft? It is the 1800s after all.

Notes: So this was super fun to write! 

Fun fact! I took an archaeology class for my associate’s degree in criminal justice and highly recommend taking one to anyone in college! 

I actually took several anthropology classes (intro to anthro, bio anthro, and archaeology). I even considered switching my major to anthropology at some point! (I switched it to English lol)

PART TWO HERE

__________________________________________________________________________

Otis whinnies, and you reach forward from your place in the saddle to pat his neck.

“Easy, Otie, almost there.” You whisper to him and gently nudge him to turn down the familiar road of Baker Street. You could spot your brother’s flat from where you were at, an unfamiliar carriage parked in front. You frown briefly and then shrug. Sherlock could have whoever he liked over. 

But… he did promise to take you out on the town in celebration of your latest discovery. Did he forget?

No… He wasn’t the type to forget something like that. You had been exchanging letters for weeks about your coming home. 

A tall man was at the front of the carriage, tending to the horses. He had spiked black hair and a glove on one hand. He looks at you with skeptical eyes as you draw near and dismount your horse. The Cleveland Bay snorts, ruffling your hair as you smooth your hand up his snout and between his eyes. Then, you promptly tied his reins to the post outside 221B Baker Street and went up to the front door. 

The door knocker was more worn than you last remembered, with the shiny brass turning a glimmering gold color from all the hands touching it. You rap the door once, twice, then a third time, and wait, stuffing your hands in your trouser pockets. 

A young man opens the door, sandy blond hair combed neatly and brown eyes alight with curiosity. A grin breaks your face, and you step forward into his arms as he realizes just who is at the door.

“My dear John!” You shriek, and he chuckles, lifting you off your feet and spinning once in a circle before setting you down. 

“I thought you weren’t due back for another two weeks!” He replies excitedly, and you laugh gleefully. 

“We finished early! Anyhow, how’s Mary? Sherlock said you two were expecting!” You say and slap his shoulder good-naturedly. He ducks his head, a pink flush on his cheeks as he nods.

“She’s home at the mo. But yes, we’re expecting. The midwife thinks it’ll be a girl based on how she’s carrying.” He said, and before you could say any more, there was a noise at the top of the stairs. 

You turn, and your grin widens even more until your cheeks hurt. 

“Sherly!” You crow, and he bounds down the stairs to sweep you up in a bear hug. His boisterous laugh made your heart sing, and you buried your nose in his hair. He smelled like cigarette smoke and whiskey. He must have been on a case. He squeezes you tight and sets you down. 

“I thought you were coming back in two weeks!” He exclaims, and you roll your eyes,

“So John said, I told you we finished early!” You tease, and it is then that you notice that there is someone else in the flat. 

He was tall, probably around your brother’s height. He had blond hair and deep scarlet eyes that studied you with interest. He was dressed in a brown suit with a crimson tie. A lord. That much is obvious.

Sherlock notices that you notice his friend and gestures to the man at the top of the stairs. 

“This is Liam! A mathematics professor at Durham University and a friend of mine who helps me on my cases.” He says proudly as “Liam” descends the stairs and approaches you. 

You stick out a hand and introduce yourself. His hand is smooth like you expected, as opposed to your calloused one. You had bandages littering your fingertips from blisters from shovels and tools. 

“William James Moriarty. I’ve heard stories about you.” His British lilt is proper and endearing. You feel your heart flutter and your ears burn. But you smile warmly nonetheless and give his hand a firm shake.

“As much as I’d like to say the same, Sherly has yet to tell me about you in his letters.” You direct the last sentence to your older brother in the same teasing tone as before. 

Sherlock rolls his eyes and punches your shoulder lightly while William watches on in amusement. 

“I got distracted!” Sherlock complains, and you break out into giggles. 

“I would love to hear some stories if you’re up to it.” William cut in gently before you, and Sherlock could start bickering. You brighten. A chance to tell stories of your work and not have someone get bored? It sounded like heaven!

That was how you got to where you were at the current moment. 

You were seated next to Sherlock at the Moriarty dining table, regaling them with a story of the most current dig you had been on.

“—and Egypt was absolutely smashing! It was so beautiful!” You say, waving your hands excitedly as you describe the tomb that had been uncovered. It had taken weeks to uncover everything, almost months. But oh so worth it. 

“Might I ask what you did with all the artifacts you found?” William inquires, and you hum as you sip at your wine. 

“Donated it all back to the locals. It’s the least I can do. Plenty of archaeologists steal their finds and bring them back to England to show in museums. I try and do the opposite.” You say and were pleased to see William nod in approval. 

At least someone shared your sentiment. 

You got a letter to your very old and very dusty flat a week after your return to England, summoning you to your eldest brother’s estate. You had been dusting and cleaning your furniture when the postman knocked on your door. You frown, brushing your pants on the seat of your trousers, and answer the door. 

The letter was short. 

Dearest sister, 

I have received news of your return to Egypt. I would like to have your company at the family estate for dinner to discuss business and your adventures. 

With best regards, 

Mycroft Holmes

A summons to the Holmes family estate that your oldest brother had inherited after your parents retired to the country. You look at the ceiling and groan, eliciting a funny look from the postman. 

This was going to be fun.

As soon as Otis realizes where you are, he tosses his head and tries to turn around. You tug the reins so he faces the right direction and nudge him into a walk down the road.

“Otie, I don’t want to do this either. But I’d rather not have Mikey send special forces after us or something.” You say to Otis, and when you reach the stables, Mycroft’s hired stable hand takes your beloved horse’s reins. “Take good care of him!” You nearly reprimand the stable hand who agrees and welcomes you back with ease. 

The maids welcome you in excitedly when you rap on the massive double doors, and you are ushered upstairs into the dining room. 

Mycroft was seated at the head of the table, where your father would be if he were here, and he stood to greet you. He offers a handshake, but you simply smile warmly and hug him tightly. He may have grated on your nerves, but he was still your brother. Mycroft stiffens and pats your shoulders awkwardly when you step back.

“As awkward as always, I see Mikey.” You said and took a seat at the table next to him like you did when you were kids. He clears his throat and calls for the kitchen staff to bring in the food. 

It wasn’t much, considering there were only two of you. But it was as extravagant as Mycroft always demanded it to be. 

“Would you like to change into dinner attire before we eat, sister dearest?” Mycroft says suddenly, just as you are about to dig into the delicious roast prepared by the staff of the household. You put your fork down and scowl.

“Don’t start with this, Mikey. You know I hate dresses.” You snap, and he raises an eyebrow but doesn’t push the issue. 

At least… he doesn’t until you are done with your meal and in his study, talking about your travels to Egypt. 

You down the rest of your whiskey and set the glass whiskey tumbler on the table between you two. 

“More whiskey?” He offers, and you shake your head.

“I want to be able to ride home after this.” You say and hold in a yawn. The excellent food combined with the fireplace blazing with a crackling fire is lulling you to sleep. 

Suddenly, Mycroft stands and walks in front of the fire, setting his own glass down on the mantle and turning to face you. 

“Might we talk some business?” He inquires, and immediately, your mood sours. 

So this was his end goal? Get you sleepy and drunk so you couldn’t ride home and were subject to his pleadings?

“I don’t want to hear it, Mikey.” You say and stand, holding onto the back of the wingback chair for a moment as the dizziness sets in. 

He scowls, 

“You are of perfect age. The season is just starting. You could still join in and find a potential suitor!” He tries, and you scrub at your face.

“I already told you I wasn’t interested in courting! I’m interested in—”

“Your work, I know. But what happens when the digs dry up and there’s nothing else for you to do? What will you do when you get too old for this?!” He snaps, and you whirl, steadying yourself with the chair as your anger flares. 

“It won’t dry up! There are thousands of years of history still to be discovered! Hundreds of thousands of cities and archaeological finds!” Your voice rises to a shout, and you hear distant footsteps as maids scurry away from you and your brother’s anger. 

This goes on for several minutes until Mycroft a bomb on you. 

“Mother and Father have decided. If you don’t find someone to court, they will no longer fund your excavations, and you’ll be stuck here with me.” 

You freeze, hands wound tightly in your hair, and argument dying on your tongue. 

“B—But that would mean—” Mycroft cuts you off gently and approaches, putting his hands on your shoulders. 

“You’d be stuck here until you find a husband—no more digs. No more artifacts. Not until you do as they and I ask.” Tears well up in your eyes, and you shrug off his hands violently and flee. 

Your boots pound against the hardwood floors, and you run outside where it has started pouring rain. Instantly, your clothes are soaked as you make it to the stables, dress Otis in his saddle and bridle, and swiftly mount his back. He tears out of the stables at a thundering gallop, and the stable hand barely dives out of the way to save himself from being trampled. 

Otis’s hooves dash against the cobblestone roads. You cling to his reins and hunch over his back as tears stream down your face and sobs wrack your body. 

Stupid, stupid, stupid!

Taking away your funding? 

No one wanted to fund a woman on an archaeological dig! 

Much less one as young as yourself! 

You were screwed! Doomed to live as a housewife because that was society’s and your parent’s expectations of you!

Otis eventually comes to a halt, and you dismount, collapsing onto a bench, breathing hard as rain pours down your body. Your shirt sticks to your skin, and your trousers swim in water as you sit in a puddle on the bench. But you can’t bring it in you to care. 

A carriage rumbles to a stop before you, and you look up as the door opens. 

“Might I interest you in some shelter?” Comes a proper and endearing accent that you recognize. 

“William?” You sniffle, and he smiles, extending a hand. 

“If you’ll let him, Fred will handle your horse. How about you step inside the carriage, and we’ll take you back to the Moriarty estate.” He says over the rain. A young man with a blue scarf wrapped around his head gets off the front of the carriage and approaches. You hiccup and nod, handing Otis’s reins to the young man and accepting William’s hand into the carriage. He sheds his overcoat and offers it. 

It’s warm and heavy as you wrap it around your shoulders and sit down. Your boots squelch against the floor, and William knocks twice against the carriage's wall, and it starts moving once again. 

The Morairty estate is even grander than you remember, looming over you as the carriage stops by the front doors. You nearly slip in your haste to get inside and are taken up the stairs to one of the many bedrooms. 

“Draw a bath and get warm. I’ll have some clothes brought by. We can have a talk after you’ve collected yourself.” William says gently, and you nod, taking off his overcoat so he can have it back. He excuses himself, and you are left alone in the suite. 

The bath is nice and hot, and you let out a sigh as you shed your clothes into a pile on the floor and sink into the warm water. Your tears are drying, but your emotions are still raging like a rabid dog inside you.

How could they? 

Didn’t your family know archaeology was your passion? Your dream?! Of course, they did! You never shut up about it when you were but a little girl learning to play the piano! You babbled on and on about fossils and artifacts in between lessons until you were blue in the face!

It wasn’t long until you were done in the bath and dried off. As William had promised, some clothes were left on the bed. A button-down that looked like it might fit you, a pair of trousers that might be a bit too long, and a pair of undergarments. You tugged on the underwear and then the trousers, having to cuff them at the bottom so you didn’t trip. The shirt fit better than you thought so you pinned your hair out of your face and left the bedroom and down the hall. Hadn’t there been a sitting room just down the stairs? 

William was inside, stoking a fire with a poker, his back to you. He stood and turned when you rapped lightly on the entryway. His lips curled in a welcoming smile, and he gestured for you to take a seat. 

“Would you like some tea? I had Louis put the kettle on.” He said, and you nodded, sitting on the couch beside the fire.

“Thank you. For the clothes and… everything else.” You mumble, and he shakes his head,

“Don’t mention it. Sherlock mentioned you hated dresses.” He says and pours you a cup of tea.

It’s delicious. It warms you from the tips of your ears to the ends of your bare toes. You scuff them on the plush carpet as William sits across from you. His scarlet eyes are illuminated like glittering rubies in the oranges and yellows of the fire. They’re alive like a torch resides inside. 

“Now, might I ask why you were out in the rain?” William asks as soon as you’ve settled into your spot. You bite your lip and wonder if you can trust him with your problems. 

Sherlock trusted him well enough… 

Perhaps…

“I got into an argument with Mycroft. He said my parents will cut off my funding for excavations if I don’t find a proper husband.” You blurt, and he hums as he takes a sip from his cup. 

“I assume they’ve been funding your past archaeological escapades?” He says, and you nod.

“Correct. But that is going to change unless I get married.” You grumble, and he cocks his head to the side, setting his cup down on the tea table next to him and seemingly mulling something over. 

“This may be a bit forward, but I have a proposal. A business proposal, if you will.” He starts, and you narrow your eyes. A business proposal? You set your own cup down and cross one leg over the other. 

“Go on…” You say hesitantly, and he clasps his hands together as if working out a problem in his head. Sherlock did say he was a mathematics professor.

“I could marry you.” You inhale sharply and proceed to choke on your saliva. William half gets out of his chair to come to your aid when you finally get your coughing under control. 

“Why?!” You demand, and he shrugs, 

“I’ve done some research into you. You are spearheading the way in new archaeological techniques. You donate your finds back to the locals in need. And frankly, I find you fascinating. If we go ahead with this, you’ll have access to my brother Albert’s influence as well as the Moriarty name and fortune.” He says, and you sit back, stunned. 

“I could continue my work?” You say skeptically, and he nods. 

“Indeed. There’s no reason to stop you. I might ask for a lecture or two from you at Durham University. But that’s it. So…” He extends a hand for you to shake. “Have we reached an accord?”

You are speechless as possibilities run rampant through your brain. You’d be free from your parent’s influence as well as pleasing them. Though pleasing them was the last thing on your mind. Yes, you’d be married. But like William said… it was more of a business proposal…

You reach forward and shake his hand. His smile widens marginally as you speak,

“I accept your proposal.”

[eddiesghxst]

PRICE OF FAME (PART 8/12)

18+ — MINORS DNI

pairing: rockstar!eddie x journalist!reader

summary: eddie is bad with words

contains: enemies to lovers trope, smoking, drug and alcohol use, sexual themes, moreee jealous!eddie, mentions of piercings, smut, King James III, flirting, tension tension tension, and eddie being... idk, here u go <3

word count: 6.2k

| previous part | next part |

| series masterlist | -main masterlist- |

“A date?”

The room has kicked into an orderly chaos compared to how it was just seconds ago. Richie is rallying the boys out of the room, an assistant is walking through with a trash bag to clean up the disastrous aftermath of pre-show rituals, and James is looking at you like you both have all the time in the world.

“Yeah, I mean… we don’t have to call it a date,” he shrugs, “we can just… hang out, maybe? Grab a bite to eat, maybe? Whatever you want.”

And oh god, Eddie was right.

And fuck— Eddie.

You scan the room for any sign of Eddie, but you find none, just the remains of smoke in the air and an irritated assistant picking up sticky bottles.

James’ hand has dropped from your waist, and his fingertips now lightly dance across the back of your hand, slinking around to grasp two of your fingers and give a light squeeze. Your heart races, eyes snapping back to his kind gaze. “Oh, um… okay, yeah.” You nod.

James smiles and tells you he’ll be out in the crowd with you in a little bit, and you nod before making your way out of the room. 

You said yes.

You said yes to James’ date, and honestly, a small part of you is excited because, god, it’s been such a long time since you’ve been on a date.

It’s hard to find time to date when you’re busy jumping from band to band, writing articles and music reviews, and still, somehow, managing to balance your own home life.

However, you were also under the impression that you and James had more of a friendship than anything romantic, so a bigger part of you is shocked (and slightly annoyed that Eddie managed to catch onto it before you did).

And then there’s that feeling. That tiny feeling in the corner of your mind that just wishes it was Eddie who had asked you. It’s a small feeling, yes, but it has a loud voice, and you find yourself growing irritated that you’re even thinking about Eddie when he only ever made things difficult.

But is it wrong to want somebody who doesn’t know what they want for themselves? Is it wrong to want someone who can’t even bring themselves to look you in the eye and be honest for one minute?

Because it’s no secret, the chemistry brewing between you and Eddie, from the moment you met, there was an obvious attraction, and the only thing that got in the way of that was Eddie’s aversion towards your job— which is beyond your control. 

And though there’s obviously a sexual attraction between you both, you can’t seem to deny the emotional connection you also share— because you and Eddie are more alike than what meets the eye.

Clearly, you both share a love for music, but you also grew up with similar experiences— from being teased for being and liking different things than your peers to having your heart broken by who you imagined would be your forever person.

God, why are you thinking about Eddie when you’ve just scored a date with James? 

You’re not paying attention when you step out of the dressing room, so you’re shocked and slightly spooked when you feel a hand wrapping around your bicep and tugging you off to the side of the door.

It’s Eddie; you know it’s Eddie because you’ve become an expert at depicting Eddie’s scent, and right now, you’re drowning in him. 

Eddie’s eyes are sharp and angry with a chilling undertone of something you can’t quite pinpoint. Fear? Jealousy? Resistance?

“Not into each other, huh?”

You blink at Eddie, still trying to find your way through the daze of events you’ve just gone through, and your eyebrows furrow in annoyance, “Oh, for fucks sake, Eddie. Are you serious—” “You can’t stand here and lie to me when I just witnessed whatever the fuck that was in there.” He gestures to the wall beside you, the wall that separates you and Eddie from James.

“It wasn’t anything.” You lie. 

Eddie doesn’t buy it, however, because he’s leaning in closer, alcohol and mint-coated breath fanning across your face as he calmly asks, “Then what did he say?”

You shake your head, dizzy with his proximity and the fear that James could walk out any second and see you and Eddie practically pressed against each other and misread the situation— because even though you may not precisely like James romantically, you still care for him, and you don’t want to hurt his feelings. 

How will you let him down easily after the date, then? What if the date goes well, and James thinks you’re more interested in him than you actually are? This is a mess, and your mind is a whirlwind of things you shouldn’t have done.

You blink through the haze once again, “Huh?”

Eddie’s jaw ticks, “What did he say to you? You looked shocked; what’d he say?”

Oh god, Eddie saw that? You thought he’d maybe have gotten bored of watching, and now you wish Richie had bursted through the doors just a few seconds earlier. And why do you even care? Why do you care that Eddie saw or what his reaction might be if you tell him the truth? 

Your heart is racing, and Eddie’s eyes are beautiful, and he’s still holding your arm, and you hate how much you want to scream at him to just let you in. Because, suddenly, you don’t want to go on a date with James, even if James is the kinder route, the more willing candidate, the one that makes more sense.

“Why do you care, Eddie?” You snap.

“Because I,” Eddie pauses, frustration settling into his bones. He looks at you like you might be the only thing he’s ever truly seen, and you don’t realize how your fingers are curling around his elbow, both of your fingertips sinking into the warmth of what could be.

“Eddie!” 

Eddie removes his hand from you as if your skin is hot to the touch, and you drop your hand as well, curling your fingers into the palm of your hand and clenching with a deep breath.

Eddie turns to Richie, who’s holding a clipboard and barking directions at staff and crew. “Come on, man, you’re on in 30.” Richie waves his hand.

Eddie turns back to you, dark eyes now cleared and holding urgency as he speaks, “Can you just— fuck,” Eddie tugs at his curls, and your face twists in confusion. You say his name at the same time that Richie calls him once again, and Eddie grumbles, “One second, Rich!” Eddie calls back.

“Just don’t go anywhere for the first few songs, okay?”

“What?”

“Eddie, 10 seconds!” 

And Eddie’s pacing backward as he speaks to you, “Just the first few songs. Please?”

Please. You never thought you would hear that word coming from Eddie— and your stomach twists, but you nod anyway, and then Eddie’s off to the stage.

For some reason, tonight has spun out in ways you’re having trouble wrapping your mind around, and you barely hear James walking out of the room until he presses a gentle hand to your shoulder, pulling your eyes to him.

He has your lightweight jacket in one hand as he offers it to you, “I was thinking maybe we could dip out now? I know a good place for burgers, and I figure we’ve seen the show plenty of times now— I mean, unless if you’d still like to watch, that’s not a problem,” He’s rambling, and you find it cute, so you reach out a hand to press to his arm and thank him for your jacket.

And you feel bad, glancing over your shoulder as you hear the crowd screaming upon the band's entrance, but you figure James is right— you have seen the show plenty of times, so one night off won’t hurt, will it? And besides, it’s not the big finale yet, so you’re not really missing anything.

You nod as you slip on your jacket, “Yeah, let’s go; I’m in the mood for a good meal anyway.”

James’ universe is fun and bright and spontaneous, all things he is. It’s something you find yourself admiring as you watch him jump from game to game at the arcade he dragged you to after dinner.

You were both full and satisfied from heavy burgers and fries, and James decided you both needed a way to shake off the food coma; and, as James said, “What better way to wake up than lose money in a bunch of rigged games?”

You start strong with a winning streak in Mortal Kombat, Daytona USA, and Star Wars, but you eventually lose your stretch when James crushes you in Dance Dance Revolution. You made him go a second time, but you still lost, and James called your frown cute, and it made your stomach twist because— fuck, this is a date. You aren’t here as just friends.

You make your way around the arcade until you both decide to call it a night and wrap it up with a few rounds of Pac-Man. It’s chillier in the city tonight, so James takes it upon himself to haul over a taxi to take you both to the hotel.

It’s nearing midnight when you and James walk into the hotel lobby, well past the ending of the show, and you’re holding your breath all the way to the elevator, silence taking over when the doors shut. And tonight was fun and lighthearted, and you’d hate to end it on a dull note.

You should just rip the bandaid off. Do it quick and get it over with so you don’t mislead James, because god, he’s such a good guy, and you’re just… you’re all confused with yourself and— fuck, James is looking at you, just do it.

“I think we should just stay friends.” You rush out.

If James is surprised, you wouldn’t be able to tell by a long shot because he’s simply shoving a hand in his pockets and shrugging, “Yeah, I kind of figured when you avoided holding my hand.” He scratches at his neck, and you fail to hold back the sympathetic twist on your face, “I had a really great time, I did, but I just can’t do anything serious right now…” You shyly explain, and James nods his head.

It falls awkwardly silent, and you curse Richie for booking the entire crew near the top of the building because the floor numbers seem to change slower than the seasons. James breaks the silence just four floors away from your destination, “It’s Eddie, isn’t it?”

You freeze at that, head snapping to look at James in shock, “I— what?”

James shrugs for the second time and turns to the doors, “I kind of clocked it as soon as you joined; you two have some weird thing going on.” He halfheartedly teases, and you feel your body heating up because if James can notice it, then who else has noticed it? God, this is more of a mess than you thought.

“Nothing is going on there,” you lie, “Not sure if you’ve noticed, but Eddie hates my guts, so.” You jokingly shrug. James laughs to ease the tension, only glancing back at you when you slow to a stop and the doors open, “I had a fun night, too, by the way. No hard feelings.” And with a wink, he wanders off to his room, and you’re left stepping out into the hallway. When you turn the corner, you find yourself wishing the floor would open up and swallow you whole because right outside of your door stands Eddie Munson.

He watches you walk down the empty hall until you stand before him. He’s leaning a shoulder against your doorframe, one hand tucked in his pocket as the other works his cigarette back and forth from his lips. He’s in his usual all-black attire, and his eyes are dark beneath the smudged eyeliner and eyeshadow from the show. And it seems as if he got off the stage and came straight here, seeing as his hair is still slightly damp with sweat and the chains on his neck stick to his chest.

He speaks around a cloud of smoke, dark hooded eyes peering down at you with a gaze so sharp you almost cower, “Where were you?”

Jesus Christ, the audacity of this man.

Your initial thought is to snap back at him and ridicule him for being an asshole— and what’s his deal with always coming to your room? But then you remember you walked out on him when he’d asked you to stay for the first few songs.

“I’m sorry, Eddie, I—” “You went on a date.”

You freeze at that, blinking up at him as your face twists in confusion, “How do you know that?”

“Because where else would you be?” He counters.

“Maybe I got sick.” You argue, and Eddie raises an eyebrow, eyes dancing over your figure, “You don’t look sick.” He points out.

Your eyebrows pinch in frustration as Eddie takes another hit of his cigarette, “What do you want? I already said I’m sorry— which is much more than you’ve ever done, by the way.” 

“I said sorry.” Eddie snaps. Eddie snuffs out his cigarette in the large plant next to the door as you scoff, turning to angrily shove your keycard into the door, “What, that shitty apology in the garden alleyway? You call that an apology? How fucking dense are you?” You open the door, moving to step in until Eddie’s fingers wrap around your arm, turning you back to him, “I said sorry. An actual apology, I did it, and you weren’t fucking there to hear it.” He seethes.

And woah, what the fuck does that mean? You weren’t there to hear it? What does he mean?

You blink, head shaking in confusion as you gaze up at Eddie, brows furrowed, eyes searching for an answer as you ask, “What do you mean?”

Eddie’s eyes are so beautiful, with swirling pools of forest ground and the tiniest specks of honey, and you believe somewhere within his eyes lives a fairy that gives him that ability to pull you in every time. He’s a hypnosis of a human, and it’s dangerous the way you can’t seem to fight through it.

Your eyes flutter shut when Eddie leans close enough to graze his lips over yours, and your heart races in anticipation of a kiss, but you can physically feel Eddie holding himself back.

“Eddie,” you lowly say, “What do you mean?”

Eddie turns his head to where his lips kiss the skin of your cheek, breath tickling the warm skin and sending shivers down your spine. He lets out a shaky breath, squeezing his eyes tight and muttering a curse under his breath as your hands slink up his chest to curl into the fabric of his shirt. The soft, curly strands of Eddie’s hair dance across your lips, and you want to scream because every inhale and exhale of your lungs is full of nothing but Eddie.

His name prances across your tongue once more, and Eddie cracks.

Eddie cracks wide open; one last hit of your hammer, and he’s putty in your hands, mouthing at you as if his life depended on it, devouring you and breathing you and pushing you until you have nowhere to go but inside your room.

“I’m sorry,” Eddie mumbles against your lips. “I’m sorry… let me make it up to you.”

You’re breathless and dizzy from lack of air, and Eddie is pushing you back onto the hotel bed, “I— what?”

Eddie’s fingers slip under your top, cool fingers pressing into your warm skin and causing your breath to hitch against his lips, “Let me make you feel good.” Eddie whispers against your lips.

And fuck, this is insane. 

This is insane.

Just a few hours ago, you would’ve shoved Eddie away from you and told him to eat shit, but for some reason, with the way Eddie’s touching you and talking so gently, you find your body melting into his touch as you nod your head. “Yes?” Eddie seems like he doesn’t believe it, and your stomach twists as you clench your thighs together, nodding once more, “Yes.” You confirm.

Eddie kisses you once again, hastily and eagerly, as his hands push your top further up your torso. Your muscles tense and twitch beneath Eddie’s calloused fingers, and Eddie hums against the softness of your mouth, panting against your lips as he repeats, “Gonna make you feel good. Make up for what I did.”

You breathlessly laugh, “S’gonna take a lot more than this, Munson.” 

And although you were slightly serious with that comment, you suppose Eddie takes it as more of a challenge as he shoves your top entirely over your chest, pulling away to tug the shirt off of you and toss it to the side.

Eddie surges forward to press sloppy kisses against the uncovered skin of your chest, sucking tiny little marks as he moves further down your body, pressing a hand to your chest to push you down into the bed when he reaches the waistband of your skirt.

It’s a black denim skirt, and Eddie takes a moment to admire how they hug your thighs perfectly— and he can’t seem to bring himself to remove it from your waist, so he pushes the skirt up around your hips instead. Your heart is racing, and you can’t help the heat that rises to your cheeks as you attempt to close your thighs, but Eddie places his palms flat against the warm insides of them.

“Don’t tell me you’re getting shy on me already. I haven’t even taken off these cute little panties of yours.” Eddie presses a thumb to your cotton-covered clit, dragging the pad of his thumb down your slit and pressing into the damp spot. Your breath hitches, sparks flying throughout your body, and Eddie smiles. You whine, “I thought you were apologizing.” You frown.

Eddie hums, leaning forward to press a kiss right where your thigh meets the fold of your pussy. You squirm, and Eddie snickers, “I am.” He responds.

You sit up to lean on your elbows, glaring down at him between your thighs as you speak, “You’re not. You’re just teasing me.” You point out.

Eddie doesn’t respond as he hooks his fingers into the band of your panties, drags them down your legs, and drops them to the side, gaze flickering up to yours as you clench your thighs together. Eddie holds your gaze as he wraps his arms around your thighs, hooking his hands into the dip of your waist and tugging you to the edge of the bed. Your center throbs in anticipation as Eddie sinks to his knees on the carpet floor, dark eyes still locked onto yours as he fits his upper body between your thighs.

And Eddie doesn’t even bother looking between your thighs when he dips his head in and begins devouring you.

Eddie, you find, eats pussy like he has all the time in the world.

He’s sloppy with it, lapping at your center and suckling your clit until you’re a whiney mess beneath him. His fingers curl into the denim skirt that’s bunched around your hips, and his rings tauntingly wink up at you under the light as he clenches his fist against the material, tugging you closer to him so he can thrust his tongue further into you.

While Eddie is busy tasting you, you scramble to reach behind your back and unhook your bra. Between your thighs, Eddie watches as you toss the garment off to the side before cupping your tits in your hands and rolling your nipple between your middle and forefingers. Eddie moans against you, burying his face deeper into you and suckling enough to have you crying out in pleasure.

Eddie pulls back for a moment, sticky strings of his saliva and your arousal dripping from his lips as he removes one hand from your waist to sink two fingers into your cunt. You pant out his name, your face twisting in pleasure when he curls his fingers up against your walls. Your eyes are screwed shut so you don’t see Eddie leaning forward to purse his lips together and let a drop of saliva drip over your pussy and sinfully coat your clit. He’s quick to attach his mouth to the throbbing bundle of nerves, and you reach out a hand to thread your fingers through his hair, knuckles curling at the root to drag an animalistic growl from Eddie.

Eddie is one of the best, if not the best, head you’ve ever received. By the time you begin teetering over the edge, your thighs are twitching and tensing as if you’ve already come undone, and your chest is heaving beneath Eddie’s fingers as he toys with your tits.

When you cum, Eddie becomes greedier than he’d been before, licking and slurping up every last drop you have to give until you’re twitching away from him and pressing a shaky hand to his shoulder. 

Eddie slinks up your body, sinking his fingers into his mouth to clean off your wetness before you slink an arm around his shoulders and pull him down to kiss you. Eddie’s fingers are wet as they cup the left side of your face, and the feeling of something wet on your face would usually have you cringing in distaste, but you only moan and press yourself further into Eddie.

You mumble for him to take his shirt off, and Eddie follows swiftly, too eager to go back to kissing you. He shivers when your hands meet his bare chest, fingertips exploring the vast expanse of untold stories in ink, hard yet plush muscles of his arms flexing beneath your touch. 

“I wasn’t done saying sorry.” Eddie pants against your lips, and you breathily laugh, “You can finish some other time; I want to feel you now.” You respond, busying your hands with trailing down his lower stomach, sinking past the waistband of his leather pants.

Eddie kisses his way down your neck to begin sucking pretty bruises into the skin, and your core clenches when you realize Eddie is wearing nothing beneath the leather pants— and you try hard not to imagine how he’s probably been pressed up against the rough fabric, achy tip undeniably receiving pleasure from the sinful ways he uses his hips when he’s on stage. 

Your shock doesn’t end there, however, because when you sink lower to wrap your hand around his cock, your body goes still at the feeling beneath your fingertips. Against the fiery skin of your cheek, you feel Eddie’s lips stretch into a smile and your heart races.

“What’s the matter, princess? Find something you like, hm?” Eddie can’t help the way his voice shakes near the end because you're giving his cock an experimental squeeze and running a finger over the sudden surprise.

You smile as you speak, “Is that a piercing?”

Eddie hums, turning his head, nose smashing against the side of yours as he presses a kiss to the side of your mouth, “Maybe..” He teasingly confirms.

And god, you might pass out.

Eddie’s dick is pierced. You’re not sure what more you’d expect from a rockstar, but you’re still shocked and ushering him to remove the annoying restriction of his pants.

When Eddie finally gets rid of his leather pants, you’ve shifted to sit on your knees in the middle of the bed, and Eddie stalks over to the edge of the bed, beckoning you over.

You don’t waste time crawling over to him, eyes stuck on the pretty sight before you. And sure, it’s not the first time you’ve seen a pierced dick (you’ve spent too much time working with rockstars), but it sure as hell is the first time you’ll be fucking one— not to mention his cock is perfect. It’s shaped and cut to perfection, something you’d expect from a pornstar, but Eddie is not a pornstar, and god, the sight of the metal barbell nestled right beneath the pink tip on the underside of his cock— it’s dizzying to see.

You peer up at Eddie, wrapping a hand around his cock and stroking him once, chest fluttering when he fails to hold back a moan. “It’s really pretty, Eddie.” You softly say, and Eddie sheepishly and breathlessly laughs as you squeeze at his tip. “Want you to fuck me with it.”

Eddie groans, muttering a curse as he leans forward to press his lips against yours, pushing you until you’re crawling back up the bed to lay beneath him.

“I’ve never been with someone with a piercing…” You admit, and Eddie smiles at you, and your stomach twists when he reaches down to gently guide your movement up and down the length of his cock.

“Really? You’ve never fucked a pierced cock before?” He manages to say through his pleasure. Your teeth dig into the inside of your cheek as you shake your head no, and Eddie snickers when you ask, “Have you?”

His lips quirk into a smile, “Honey, you think I got the piercing done without a test run on how it feels?” He jokes.

You snort at that, and Eddie beams at you. You swipe your thumb over his leaking tip, and Eddie curses, watching as you mindlessly bring the glistening pad of your finger up to your tongue and hum. 

“How’s it taste, sweetheart?” Eddie teases, and you hum as you respond, “Good. So good, wish I could taste more—” “No, no, no.” Eddie cuts you off with a shake of his head, reaching down to wrap a fist around himself.

“This isn’t about me. Plus, I’m losing my patience right now; I’ve been thinking about this since I fucking met you.” He presses himself flat against your pussy, and you gasp, fingers digging into his shoulders as he rolls his hips to slide himself up and down your wet cunt, the cool metal of the piercing catching onto your clit and sending shivers up your spine.

His gaze falls between your thighs to watch as your slick centers meet, cursing at the way your wet folds part around each drag of his cock. “You have such a pretty pussy, princess, fuck.” He rasps.

Your mind is spinning with the roll of Eddie’s hips, his dirty compliment, and his admission that he’s thought of fucking you before. You don’t dare to tell him you’ve thought of it too or that you’ve gotten off to the thought of it. You don’t even have to think about it because the tip of Eddie’s cock is catching the slickness of your entrance, and you’re gasping, body jerking in pleasure. Your lips accidentally smear against Eddie’s shoulder, and he hums, tilting his head and dipping to catch your lips in a sloppy kiss.

As he distracts you with his mouth, he slowly presses into you, and you lose your ability to keep up with Eddie’s lips because holy fuck— Eddie is bigger than you thought. Sure, you got a good look at him when he removed his pants to show you his surprise, but your mind must’ve been too muddled with lust to clock the size of him.

You can feel everything as he sinks into you, every vein running up the sides, and the mind-numbing sensation of the barbell as he presses into you. “Holy shit,” you breathlessly whisper against the skin of his shoulder, legs tightening around his waist as the burning yet toe-curling feeling settles in. Eddie snickers above you, “That good?”

You’re coherent enough to snap back at his cockiness, “No.”

Eddie laughs, and you want to make a snippy comeback, but it gets lost on your tongue when Eddie gives his hips one experimental roll.

Eddie is pathetically close to cumming.

Eddie’s cock has only been nestled within your warm, wet, pulsing walls for barely two minutes, and he’s about to blow like he’s a goddamn teenager— and it doesn’t help how heavenly you sound and look writhing beneath him.

Eddie’s not sure where to look; your face, your tits, or the hypnotizing sight of your cunt sucking him in over and over with each thrust he gives you. “Fuck,” he curses, “You’re taking me so well, princess.” He leans in the nose at your cheek before licking at the curve of your jaw, shivering at the wet moan you pant into his ear.

“Been hiding this pretty pussy from me?” Eddie hums, sucking a delicate bruise right below your ear. And god, Eddie could spend forever like this, drilling into you and marking you everywhere and pulling these pretty sounds from you. Eddie’s so close, oh god.

You mewl at his words, hips squirming as Eddie snaps his hips into you, “No,” you whine, “You’ve been mean to me.” And Eddie thinks you’re awfully cute when you’re blissed out and pouting. And your eyes are glossy, lips slick with spit and swollen from kissing.

Eddie wishes he had a photographic memory because he doesn’t want to forget a single detail of this moment. Eddie has one hand clutching the sheets beside your head as he lets the other hand coast up your side to land on your chest, thumb brushing over your nipple to pull a moan from you. “I know,” Eddie lowly replies, “I’m sorry, princess.” He kisses your chin, and you clench around him.

Eddie’s fist clenches around the sheet, fighting to hold himself back as he presses deep into you and stills, cock twitching within your walls. “Gonna let me show you how sorry I am?” He asks.

You're hazy and cockdrunk, and Eddie can’t wait to unpack the fact that you go braindead when you’re fucked good. Eddie nudges himself into you, although he’s pressed all the way into your cunt, and you whimper before eagerly nodding.

“Yeah?” Eddie teases. You nod again, fingers digging into Eddie’s arm as you speak, “Yes, Eddie— fuck. Yeah, show me, please.”

Eddie almost loses it.

It’s slightly scary how much Eddie likes this, how much he’s enjoying this— the feeling of you beneath him, the wetness, the heat, the sweat-sticky touches, and the sloppy smattering of kisses. God, Eddie’s in love with it.

The short five-second break Eddie managed to pull from questioning (teasing) you was enough for him to get ahold of himself. Eddie sits up and grasps the back of your knee, hauling your leg over his shoulder to get a better angle at fucking you, and you gasp when his cock rubs against your spot.

Eddie doesn’t waste time once he gets the position situated. He leaves one hand splayed beside your head to hold him up as the other hand grips the warm flesh of your thigh before resuming his thrusting, this time at a deeper and quicker pace.

The sound of skin meeting and the wet sloshing noise of sex echoes through the room amongst the mix of moans and sultry-soaked remarks. Eddie doesn’t notice his hand slipping from your thigh and slinking up to wrap around your neck, but he hesitates when you whimper. He almost removes his hand, but you wrap a shaky hand around his wrist and nod— and fuck, Eddie will never be the same man after this.

Eddie can feel the heat and the pulse of your heart as his fingers tighten around your neck. Your moans are becoming more and more frequent and higher in pitch, and Eddie can feel the way you’re fluttering around him more sporadically, and he can’t wait to feel it when you cum.

Eddie leans over you, lips brushing your parted ones as he encourages you to let go, “Come on, let me feel it. I’m not leaving until you soak my cock, princess.”

Your body is on fire.

It’s almost alarming how easily and well Eddie has unraveled you. His presence is nearly overwhelming with the way he’s hovering so close over you, but you love it— the tickle of his long curls on your shoulders and chest, the intoxicating smell of him, the dizzying hold he has around your neck— you preen for it.

You’re so close when Eddie tells you to cum, and you barely have enough time to prepare for the earth-shattering orgasm that ripples through you the second Eddie presses a thumb to your aching clit and rubs tight circles against it.

Your body tenses, and your moans crack upon the surface as you melt into him until you’re nothing but a quivering mess. Eddie talks you through it, tells you how pretty you sound and how good you feel wrapped around him. Your orgasm had hit you so hard that you barely registered the broken moan that came from Eddie before he pushed deep into you and emptied every last drop of himself into your pulsing heat.

Eddie curses, his cock pulsing within you, and you let out an exhausted yet satisfied sigh when he rolls his hips into you once more. You’re both silent for a long moment as you come back down to earth, Eddie’s forehead pressed against your shoulder as you subconsciously let your hand run up the side of his torso.

Eddie shifts to turn his head to where he can slightly see your face as he still hides against your shoulder, “Apology accepted?”

Saturday morning, the next day, you wake up and want to bury yourself under the hotel sheets.

Last night was… interesting, to say the least. It was good— mind-blowing— but you still have that lingering feeling in your chest that maybe you and Eddie shouldn’t have slept together. Maybe you let him in too quickly. Maybe it was all a lie, Eddie’s ‘apology’. All the gentle caresses and the passion-filled kisses with the heart flutter words. Maybe it was all for show, just to get you to let your walls down so he could have at you.

Eddie didn’t spend the night with you.

In fact, Eddie practically ran out the door after your extremities were over, and you were left with the aftermath of spinning thoughts and an aching chest. So much for sorry.

The dining room is buzzing with chatter and laughter of excitement— today is the last off day before the final show of the residency— but you’re too in your head to join in on the conversation because Eddie won’t even look at you.

Your throat feels tight, and you spend the majority of breakfast just pushing your food around the plate, and you manage to pull a smile and nod your head when Naomi asks if you’re okay. But fuck, you want to scream.

You should’ve never believed Eddie when he told you he’d change or when he practically spent the entire night worshipping your body and begging for your forgiveness. Eddie didn’t want forgiveness. He just wanted to fuck you, and you should’ve known that from the second he kissed you.

But Eddie’s kisses can tell a hell of a lie, and damn you for falling for them.

You’re spooked when you feel a hand rest on your shoulder, pulling you from your thoughts. It’s Richie, and he peers down at you and gives you a tight-lipped smile as he leans in and lowly speaks, “Can I speak with you outside?”

You nod, dropping your fork onto your plate and quietly rising from your chair. And for the first time today, Eddie looks at you. Your chest tightens, and you think it’s stupid that you’d been upset about this because it’s Eddie for fucks sake. He’s a rockstar, and he surely never made the mistake of presenting himself as if he was anything other than a man who fucks whoever they want and moves on the next day. Eddie’s jaw ticks, he looks away, and you bite your tongue as anger floods your body.

You ignore it as you turn around and follow Richie into the hallway.

You’re hardly paying attention when you both step out of the room, but the slamming of the door is the cue for Richie to start speaking. “Listen, Birdie,” he begins, “You know I adore you. I’m always in your corner, no matter what… But I have to put my boys first.”

It’s concerning, the way Richie is beginning this conversation, and it’s even worse when he can’t seem to look you in the eye for more than five seconds at a time. Your heart rate picks up, and you begin to think maybe…

No, Richie can’t know. There’s no way he’d know, right? Unless if someone told him. One of the band members, or James, or— fuck, there’s too many people that know at this rate. But you didn’t think it would reach Richie.

No, you’re just spinning out. Richie doesn’t know, and this is about something else; it has to be.

You shake your head, brows furrowed as you speak, “I’m not sure I understand.”

Richie glances around the corridor and shifts in his spot, scratching at the back of his neck as he speaks, “Listen, I uh,” he glances at you, and your heart drops because you now know why he’s pulled you aside. 

“I know about you and Eddie.”

————

part nine

————

a/n: hiiii, you made it to the end !! IM SORRY FOR ANOTHER CLIFFHANGER FRIENDS, i promise there won't be anymore from here on out (i think hehe), BUT I HOPE YOU ENJOYED THIS SMUTTY LITTLE PART, thank you for reading, ilysm and i appreciate all and any feedback <3

————

cutie lil taglist: @mastermindmiko @whataboutbibi @ryanmxrie @ihatepeanutss @tlclick73 @motherfckerrr @emxxblog @jesssssmaybankk @eddiesguitarskills @bibieddiesgf @chloe-6123 @micheledawn1975 @demxnicprxncess @emma77645 @sidthedollface2

@daddyhetfield @s-u-t @hereforshmut @mmunson86 @welcometohellsock @lma1986 @birdsinmywalls @animechick555 @sheneedsrocknroll92 @spideydreams00 @lorosette @prestinalove @sirensleepingsoundly @nabiiturner @catherinnn

[hoejosatoru]

Star Crossed

Pairing: Fem!Reader x Togame Jo (characters are 21+, readers skin color and hair color/texture not described)

Summary: Being the sister of Bofurin's leader can get complicated. But when y/n accidentally hooks up with the vice leader of your rival gang? It's straight up messy. Y/n has to navigate her loyalty to Bofurin while also combatting nagging feelings about the man she is supposed to take down.

Word count: 14.5k

a/n: I got EXTREMELY carried away with this. I have no idea how this happened. BUT ALSO for the first scene of this togame will be referred to as James and y/n will be referred to as Alice because they give each other fake names when they meet. But James = Togame. hopefully that is not confusing lol. If your name is actually Alice idk why to tell you girlie sorry

Warnings: Drinking, fingering, smoking mentioned, y/n is mentioned to have past relationship with Hiragi and they hook up off screen, vague knife play, enemies to lovers, some stuff togame does could be considered stalking but y/n is also doing it back (like a cat and mouse), oral sex both m and f receiving, unprotected sex, creampie, getting walked in on, gun violence, blood mentiontion, very inacurate medical stuff please just suspend your disbelief for the plot lol, mentions of parent death, reader discussed past attempted sa, not proof read

You were looking for trouble. You could admit that.

Things were tough at work, if being a gang member counted as work. Really, it was more your life. They were so intertwined it was impossible to distinguish one from the other. So, life was just tough at the moment. Such is the burden of being one of the top members of Bofurin.

Your brother, Umemiya, was top dog. Respected by those who followed him, feared by those who were against him. Though, he didn't care much for people fearing him, it was simply a means to an end. He understood that most men only responded to power and fear and so he leaned into it, when needed.

Bofurin was mostly made of men, but being his sister allowed you the special privilege of being one of the few women involved. Certainly, you were the highest woman in the organization. You trained to fight - and kill, when necessary - with the best of them, yet that didn't stop you from getting stupid rules. Like this fucking curfew.

"Curfew my ass," you grumbled to yourself as you slipped out your apartment. Whenever things got tense between Bofurin and Shishitoren, your top rival, Umemiya insisted on you laying low. He didn't want to you going on missions or getting involved in business. Nor did he want to going out late or basically doing anything that could be considered fun.

You got it, you really did. You knew he was just looking out for you. You were truly one of Bofurin's best weapons. Shishitoren doesn't know what you look like, nor would they expect to a woman to be as skilled as you are. Their inclination to underestimate you would always be one of your biggest weapons. At the moment, though, your identity was your biggest asset. Not only did it help with gathering intel, but it kept you safe. If they knew who you were, who you were connected to, the target on your back would be massive.

So, yes, you got why Umemiya worried and tried to protect you. But you were a grown woman, and a stubborn one at that. You believed that you could handle yourself and your track record affirmed that. So if you wanted to go out one night and have some fun, was it really that bad?

You didn't think so, which is why you found yourself at a seedy little party. You heard about it through some Bofurin members, which should make it risky to attend but it was a masquerade party. Even if a few of them did attend, you'd easily blend in with the crowd. And even if Ume did find out, he couldn't be that mad. At least your face was covered when you went out.

But you weren't worried about that now. The dress you were waring fit you like a glove and you knew you looked hot. It's been so long since you've been able to wear something cute. You just wanted to drink and dance and blow off some steam. This underground party where everyone was anonymous and no one was asking questions was the perfect place to do it.

And you were enjoying all of that when you sensed a presence behind you. You were at the bar, trying to get the poor bartender's attention, but he was clearly overwhelmed by the amount of people swarming him for a drink. You felt him standing there, could feel his eyes on you.

You turned around cautiously, finding a tall man with a mess of dark hair. His face was masked, of course, but you could see emerald eyes glittering with mischief behind them. Something about him nagged at you, like a memory you couldn't quite recall. You reckoned it was the alcohol swimming at the edges of your senses and ignored it.

"Beautiful thing like you shouldn't have to wait for a drink," he said. Confidence rolled off him, in a way that some would describe as arrogance. You knew his type, all women did, but you were willing to play into his banter.

"And just how can you tell I'm beautiful with a mask on? Or were you just hoping I'd fall for that?" you questioned.

He grinned, amused by your attitude. "I've got a sixth sense for beautiful women that not even a mask could hide." He put a hand out and the bartender responded to him immediately, much to your chagrin. "What're you drinking?"

"Whatever you are."

"I like your style." He ordered two shots of vodka. "Basic, but it get the job done." You accepted the drink, your hand brushing his. Your stomach flipped, which could just be the alcohol you've already drank or it could be that this guy was peaking your interest. You haven't had fun with a man in a minute. You were too busy beating them up, usually.

"You know, I don't usually accept drinks from strangers," you mused.

"Oh? Guess that makes me special," He smirked. "But the name is James. And you?"

"Alice," you lied. You weren't stupid enough to give this random guy your name, as innocuous as he may be.

"Cheers." Your classes clinked together before you knocked them back. The alcohol blazed down your throat and settled in your stomach with a warm glow. You were at the pleasant level of buzzed, still in control but loosened up just enough to have some extra fun.

"Wanna dance?" you asked, already grabbed for his hand. He didn't protest because men who looked at you like he was looking at you never did.

"It would be my pleasure." You pulled him to the dance floor, which was crowded with bodies pressed against each other and swaying to the music. The air was hot and thick, but you didn't care. You let the music guide you, inching closer and closer to James until there wasn't an inch of space between you.

Your back was pressed to his front, your ass grinding against him to the beat. His hands snaked around your waist, feeling up and down your sides shamelessly. One hand edged dangerously close to the hem of dress, but only hovered there teasingly. You could feel him growing hard against your and your body reacted instantly, desire surging in your lower stomach.

You spun around, your eyes connecting in silent conversation. The charged air swirling around you sparked as you pressed your lips to his. You wrapped your arms around his neck, glad for the heels your wore so didn't have to stand on your tip toes to kiss him.

James responded immediately, one arm wrapped around your waist, the other gripping your ass. He kissed you deeply, with a confident ease that only made your body buzz. He slid one leg between your thigh as other dancers jostled around you, paying no mind to the two of you. His thigh brushed against your cunt and practically purred against him. Any chance of you making a smart decision was gone.

"Wanna find somewhere private?" James asked, breathless. His pupils were blown out, darkening his eyes and making them churn with desire. The second you nodded, he was leading you out of the crowd.

You wandered down the hallways, finally finding a door labeled storage. James tried to open the door, but it was lock. He frowned. "Got a bobby pin?"

You always kept one on you for these exact moments. You didn't want to show your hand, that you had such a skill. Better for him to not wonder, like you were wondering about him as you pulled the pin from your hair and pressed it into his palm. If you were any less consumed by need at the moment, you may have questioned the ease at which he picked the lock.

He grinned at you, incisor catching the light. "Special talent."

"Let's hope that's not your only one."

The door slammed shut the second you two slipped inside. He had you pressed against the wall, picking up where you left off on the dance. "I'm taking this shit off." James tossed his mask to the ground. Even in the darkness of the closet you could see he was devastatingly handsome. His nose was strong, his face angular, his eyes swallowing you up.

You followed his lead, letting your mask fall off your face. He cupped your face, brushing your cheek. "Mmm, knew I was right. You're fucking stunning." Your stomach fluttered, charmed despite yourself.

He kissed you again, unencumbered by the masks. You tangled your hands in his dark strands as he squeezed your ass. He bit into your lower lip, tugging slightly. His leg parted your thigh, urging you to grind against him. Your hips rolled and a moan escaped your lips at he delicious friction. He squeezed your tits as you rocked yourself against him.

The more you worked yourself up, the harder he got. He couldn't resist touching your cunt anymore, knowing it must be dripping. He could already feel a wet spot on his pants. He slipped his hand under the hem of your dress.

"Oh? What's this?" He pushed your dress up, revealing the knife you had strapped to your thigh. Shit, you forgot about that.

"What you've never seen a girl with a dagger before?" you brushed it off as a joke.

"Can't say I've had the pleasure." He finger trailed down the length of the blade, before trailing back up your inner thigh.

"Well you better hurry up and touch me or I'll be forced to use it on you."

He chuckled. "Don't threaten me with a good time, angel." He cupped your cunt, making you roll your hips against his palm. He kissed you again as he pushed your panties to the side, running his fingers through you soaked center. The coolness of his rings against the heat of you made you gasp.

"Fuck, angel, you're soaked," he mused, toying with your clit. "This all for me?" His middle finger slid inside you, pumping lightly. "Can feel you squeezing me already."

"You - fuck- love to hear yourself talk, huh?" You were embarrassed by how flustered you sounded already, but god this man was good with his fingers. He slid his ring finger in with his middle finger, curling against your g spot.

"Feels like you love listening," he replied. He fucked his fingers fasters, making you moan to prove his point. Your hips were bucking to match his movements, chasing the pleasure of his touch. "Look at you, fucking yourself on my fingers. How'd I get so lucky to find a nasty little thing like you?"

"James ngh-" you gasped, gripping his shoulders. The sound of your wet pussy getting fucked with his fingers filled the storage room. It was sinful, erotic. When his thumb found your clit your body sparked with the euphoric warmth of an orgasm. You moan, leaning your whole body weight on to James as your knees buckle.

"Atta girl," he praised, "So good for me." He held you with his other arm while he slipped his fingers out of you. He brought them to his mouth, sucking your release off them. "So sweet."

Before you could respond, the sound of a phone ringing filled the room. James reached into back pocket and frowned. "Sorry gotta take this." He turned away from you, listening to someone on the other end. "I'll take care of it," was all he said before hanging up and turning back to you.

"I hate to leave you now, angel, but duty calls," he said. "Can I get your number? Maybe we can finish this sometime."

"Oh, yeah sure." You normally don't give random dudes your number, but your brain was too hazy from coming down that high to think of something fake. You gave him your work cell number, knowing you wouldn't be answering him and could just block the number. As fun as this was, you didn't have time for the bull shit that came with hook ups.

"Thanks for the treat," he said, wiggling his fingers. You rolled your eyes, but waved goodbye as he slid out the door.

"Well, shit," you said to yourself when you were alone. Trouble was certainly found.

***

You woke with a dully ache behind your eyes. Definitely not the worst hangover you endured, but enough to make you grumpy. The texts you woke to did nothing to quiet the pounding in your head. Umemiya was scheduling an urgent, emergency meeting. Great.

It seemed that there were many of these meetings recently, which took the anxiety out of you as you got ready. You were more worried about keeping a normal appearance. If you look hungover, your brother would certainly be suspicious of what you did last night.

"You look lovely," Suo commented sarcastically when he saw you. You plopped down next to him, glad for the cool air up on the Bofurin base's roof.

"You really know how to make a girl feel special, Suo," you grumbled. Suo was one of your closest friend in Bofurin, despite his little barbs.

"Did something happen last night?" he asked as your brother and the rest of the Bofurin higher ups filed in.

"I'll tell you later."

Everyone settled around the table as Hiragi wheeled at the projector you used for meetings. The look on his and your brother's face made your stomach twinge with nerves. Something was up.

"Welcome everyone," Ume began, "I apologize for calling you all here so urgently, but we've had a major break through in our work against Shishitoren." Everyone seemed to lean forward, eager for the new information. "We've uncovered the identity of Togame Jo."

Murmurs broke out. Shit, this was big. Bofurin has been trying to get his identity for months now. We knew he was the right hand of Choji, one of the most fearsome members of Shishitoren. However, he always kept his identity concealed when he went out. You only had shoddy, vague descriptions of him from members who have crossed his path - and lived to tell the tale.

"Here's his picture. Make sure you spread it to everyone in your division," Ume stated as the photo Togame filled the screen.

The world seemed to fall away from you. Those eyes staring at you from the screen were all too familiar.

Suddenly it hit you, that nagging feeling you had when you saw James last night.

He was tall... green eyes... dark hair...

The descriptions his victims had given. It was him, James was Togame Jo.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Your blood was roaring in your ears, so you almost missed when Ume said your name. "Y/n, I want you to help on this."

"M-me?" you hated how you stuttered, but you couldn't help it. Your mouth felt dry and cottony. Not only were shocked that this was Togame, the man you hooked up with last night, but you were confused that Ume would want you involved in this at all.

"I've heard you loud and clear about wanting to be more involved," Ume said. "You are our secret weapon. He doesn't know what you look like, but he knows the rest of us. You are our best chance to get him." He paused, clearly not fully happy with this plan, but accepting he didn't have a choice. "It will be dangerous, but I don't think that bothers you."

Everyone was staring at you, waiting for a reaction. Your brain was functioning at a mile a minute, trying to process everything that was just thrown at you. Your skin felt hot and prickly under their gazes. You had an irrational fear that they could see your guilt on your face, that they knew what you did.

"Of course," you mustered up. "I'll do it." You hoped you sounded more assured than you felt. If Ume thought something was amiss, he didn't comment on it.

The rest of the meeting was a blur. The only thing that stuck out to you was Ume giving anyone who encountered Togame the permission to use lethal force, if necessary. Umemiya did not give that out lightly, so you knew how serious this was to him.

Your brain felt scrambled as you were trying to figure out how the fuck you were going to sort this out. Should you tell Ume? You know you probably should, but this was the first time he was trusting you with something big and this would totally destroy that. But he if he finds out somehow he'll be even more pissed.

As the meeting was clearing out you came to the only possible conclusion: you needed to eliminate Togame before anyone could find out.

Your eyes flicked up to his image on the screen, your body swelling with anxiety. The photo of him, you realized, was from last night. He was slipping out of the party, never having put his mask back on. So there were other Bofurin members there. Shit, what if someone saw you?

"Y/n, can you stay for a minute?" Ume stopped your train of thoughts. You nodded, not trusting your words. Everyone else filtered out, leaving just you and your brother. Paranoia gnawed at you. Did he know? Was this some sort of test. No... he couldn't. He wouldn't have asked you to help in front of everyone if he knew.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," you answered a little too quickly. "Seriously, I am. I just didn't sleep great last night. Something I ate, I think." The lies slipped out of you with surprising ease.

"I'm not saying this to be... patronizing," Ume stole the word you used often, a ghost of a smile playing at his lips. "I know you're strong and capable. I know you can do this. I don't love the idea, but Hiragi convinced me." Ume gave you a pointed look.

Your heart squeezed atet the mention of Hiragi. You dated for a bit a few years ago. You really loved him, but you guys just didn't work out. You've hooked up a handful of times since the break up, but you never got back to a serious place. Your friendship was strong enough to weather that, but you weren't as close as you once were.

Ume were convinced that you two were meant to be. He'd be over the moon if you guys got married, making Hiragi his true brother. It made you emotional that he pushed so hard for you. He knew what this would mean for you. But it was bittersweet, making you feel more guilty about what you did the prior evening.

Ume continued, "Bottom line is, Togame is dangerous guy. I need you to promise me you'll be honest with me. And with yourself. If it seems too much, too dangerous, we'll find another way."

"You worry too much Ume," you sighed. You were trying to brush off his praise of you. It felt undeserved at the moment.

"I'm serious, y/n," he replied. "You're the only family I have left. Promise me you'll tell me if you need help, or if something goes wrong. It won't be a poor reflection fo you at all."

"I promise," you lied. It felt heavy on your tongue. Bitter.

"Okay," he nodded, "I trust you."

God he was really trying to make you feel like the biggest piece of shit. You debated telling him, but you couldn't stand the shame of it. He was right, you could do this. But you had to act quickly.

"Y/n, wait up." It was Hiragi hustling up behind you as walked home. "Mind if I join you?"

"Ume didn't send you, did he?" you questioned.

"No, I just wanted to see how you were doing," he replied, "You seemed a bit off today."

You shrugged. "Just slept like shit and was not expecting the meeting to be about that." At least that wasn't a lie. "What did you have to do to Ume to get him to put me on this? It looked like it pained him."

Hiragi chuckled. "I knew you'd want to do it and it just makes sense. Dangerous, but makes sense." He sighed. "And Ume does believe in you, you know. He just doesn't wanna see you hurt. None of us do."

"I get it," you nodded. "I'm going to handle it. The sooner Togame is out of our hair, the better."

"No argument here," he replied. "Any plans on how you're going to do it?" That was the magic question, wasn't it?

In the brief amount of time since this was all dropped on you, your mind has been churning with plans. It dawned on you that he didn't know who you were. Sure, he saw your face, but what did that matter if he didn't realize who you were? You could use that your advantage.

"Dunno," you replied, "I could probably seduce him. I figure a guy like Togame would be easy enough to fool if you get him horny enough."

Hiragi grimaced. "I don't love that plan."

"Of course you don't," you replied. "I don't love it either." Your mind swam with memories of last night, how easy it had been to get that close to him. You hated how your body fluttered at these thoughts. God if only you had known then... "I'm not going to actually sleep with him. Just get him alone, when he least expects it." You weren't sure if you were saying that to reassure him or yourself.

You were outside your apartment then and Hiragi stopped to look at you. "Just promise me you're not gonna put yourself in unnecessary danger."

Well, that ship has sailed. "Unnecessary danger is kinda my thing, Hiragi."

His eyes narrowed. "I'm serious, y/n."

You groaned. "You and Ume are so serious. You guys gotta lighten up." You sighed, ready to be alone. To shower, clear your head. "But I promise I will be smart about this." At least as best as you could, but you kept that to yourself.

Hiragi nodded. "If you need anything, don't hesitate. I know how Ume can be with you and I don't want to feeling like you have to hide shit from him. If you're in a bind, but don't wanna go to him you can always come to me. You know that, right?"

You did and that was the worst part. The way Hiragi looked at you, sometimes you wondered how much his feelings lingered for you. You thought about spilling your guts to him right then and there. You did trust him, but this wasn't a minor hiccup. Togame seeing your face was a huge deal. Not to mention you didn't want to have to answer question as how he saw your face, especially not to Hiragi.

Somethings you knew he would hide from Ume for you, but you weren't sure if this was one of them. More than that, you didn't want to put him in that position. To have to choose between betraying you or betraying Ume. You had enough on your conscious right now and wouldn't add that.

"Thanks, Hiragi," your voice was thicker than you expected, fighting off emotions. "I'll let you know if I need anything." With that, you said your goodbyes.

You showered, ate, hydrated and the ache in your head subsided. You turned ideas over in your head, trying to whittle them down to being smooth, sensible. You'd wait for Togame to call you, you'd play along and get him alone, and then capture him. Kill him, if needed.

The latter made you uneasy. Killing wasn't foreign to you as a Bofurin member, but it certainly wasn't very common place. Umemiya believed in the inherent value of human life. Bofurin's goal was to keep the town safe, which meant driving out those who wreak havoc on the innocent. Ume, of course, was not opposed to using force to achieve this goal. He'll tell anyone who will listen that fights are a language.

There are very rare occasions where it is clear fists aren't enough. Weeds that have been plucked and yet grow back time and time again. That was the Shishitoren higher ups, a parasite on the town that needed to be ripped out, root and stem.

You've never been put on a mission where killing the target was the object. You've only had to kill someone once and it was in self defense. You shudder at the memory. If the rumors about Togame were true, you knew he had to be stopped. Still, the thought of killing him in cold blood brought you no joy.

You would try to capture him, let Ume handle him, but there was a risk. Would Togame tell Ume about you? Would Ume even believe him? Surely you could just say he was lying.

The sound of your phone ringing pulled you from your thoughts. Your work phone. You didn't recognize the number, so it had to be him. Your stomach was in knots as you clicked accept.

"Hello?"

"Hello, Alice." It was Togame, that was for sure. And the way he said the name told you he knew it was fake. Shit.

"Who is this?" you kept your voice even.

"You wound me," Togame replied, "I thought we shared something special last night, y/n."

Fuck, how did he know who you were? This was bad. "What do you want?"

"I think we have a lot to discuss."

"Go ahead, then."

"Hmm, I find in person so much more... productive," Togame replied, the lilt in his voice telling you he was enjoying this.

"And why would I trust that?" you practically laughed.

"I never lie to beautiful women." You wished he could see you roll your eyes. "And because I'm putting myself just as much at risk by meeting with you." That was true. He took your silence as an invitation to continue. "Just you and me, no fights, no weapons. Just a conversation... Though if you have that little knife of yours strapped to your thigh again, I wouldn't object." You could practically hear his smirk over the phone.

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. It was stupid, horribly stupid, but there was a chance you could get something out of him that would be helpful. "Okay. Meet me at the dock at 10pm. There's a spot behind 3 big shipping crates by the water that's private."

"It's a date." Before you could protest that it most certainly was not a date, he hung up.

You seen the rest of the evening playing a variety of ways this could play out. Many of them ended with you captured, or worse. You debated calling Hiragi, but you just couldn't bring yourself to do it. You didn't want to bring him into this met, at least not unless it was dire.

At 9:30 you set off for the docks. The location you gave Togame was your favorite place to clear your head. The shipyard wasn't exactly the safest place to hang out, but you never ran into anyone at this particular spot. It was perfect for when you needed to disconnect from everything. You hated that you now gave it away to Togame, but it was the only place you were sure you could talk uninterrupted.

You were stationed at your spot by 9:45. Perfect. You wanted to be there before Togame so you could scope out the area. You stood with your back towards the water so he couldn't sneak up on you. You were about to steel yourself for the wait when you heard footsteps approaching.

"Guess we both had the same idea of getting here early." Togame swaggered in dressed all in back, save for his yellow Shisitoren jacket. He seemed utterly relaxed, as if he was meeting an old friend.

Much to your dismay, he was every bit as attractive as he was last night. You were hoping it was the alcohol that had clouded your vision of him, but no. He was devastatingly, annoying good looking.

"Nice to see you angel... or I guess I should say princess," Togame smirked. Your blood boiled.

"Don't call me that," you snapped. You had, against your wishes, been given the nickname of the princess of Bofurin awhile back. It started out as a joke, but the more you expressed your hatred of it, the more people used it. Eventually, it traveled out to those beyond Bofurin and since they didn't know your real name, that was what stuck. It irked you to no end.

"So hostile," Togame mused, "And here I thought we were going to have a nice little chat." He looked out on the water, lights glittering on the inky water. "This is kind of a romantic choice. If I didn't know any better, I'd think you wanna pick up where we left off last night."

You groaned. "That was a mistake."

Togame feigned offense. "Ouch."

A thought hit you like a shock of ice water. "Did you know who I was last night?" It was bad enough that you hooked up with Togame by mistake, but if you had been manipulated? It made your skin crawl.

"No," he answered seriously. "There was a small team in Shishitoren assigned to uncovering your identity, but I was not one of them. Last night was just a very happy accident."

"For you, maybe," you grumbled. "But why not? Aren't you their second in command."

Toagme shrugged. "The detective stuff is grunt work. Besides, it was risky digging into you. At the time we were still trying to cover my identity, but cats out of the bag now it seems."

Your blood ran cold. "So there are others? Who know about me?" You scanned the area again, certain you were going to be ambushed.

"Relax, princess, it's just you and me," Togame said. "But yes there are. The small group looking into you, myself and Choji, but that's it for now."

"For now?"

"Ah, that's why I'm here," Togame replied, taking a few steps closer to you. You wanted to back away, but you also didn't want to come off as afraid. You decided to stand your ground. "Choji doesn't trust the grunts to capture you without killing you or fucking it up. You're worth more to us alive."

Your bristled, "I'm not a fucking object to be taken."

"Neither am I and yet you would capture me all the same, wouldn't you?" Togame questioned. You frowned because he was right. "I thought so. It's not pleasant work we do, but it needs to be done." He signed, pulling out a cigarette and taking a drag. "It's a nasty habit, know. Hope you don't mind."

"Can you just get to the point, please." You were exhausted and agitated.

"I'm offering you a chance to surrender without a fight," Togame replied.

You couldn't stifle your laugh. "How tempting."

"I'm doing you a favor," Togame said, "Like I said, Choji doesn't trust the other guys to do the job right, but he also isn't a patient guy. He gave me two weeks to capture you. After that, your picture will be released to everyone."

Fuck, that would not be good. You would have to tell Ume if it got that far. "How do you know that I won't capture you before then?"

"Cause I'm good at what I do," Togame replied.

Annoyance flared at his underestimation of you. You had to remind yourself that was a good thing, it would be easier to surprise him. "So what I come with you and then god knows what happens to me in Shishitoren?"

"Shishitoren has a rule," Togame explained, "Whoever brings someone in has dibs on that person. No one else can touch them, unless Choji says otherwise. He would listen to me. What I'm offering you is protection." You mulled over his words, trying to gauge the truth of them, if you could even trust him if they were true. You knew all too well what could happen to you if you were captured by a group like Shishitoren.

Ultimately you didn't know if you could trust him, but you did trust yourself. "I don't need your protection," You replied, "Two weeks is more than enough time to hunt you down."

"Hmm, I cannot deny that sounds fun," Togame mused, "Always loved when women chase me." He dropped the cigarette, grinding it into the pavement.

"Then we are done here," you replied, ignoring his comment. "I'll let you go now, but starting tomorrow I'm not holding back. I'm not scared to kill you if you resist."

Togame laughed. "I bet you've never even killed a fly."

Your anger flared and in a second you were on him, knife unsheathed and pressed against his throat. You savored the tiny flash surprise in his eyes as you shoved him against one of the shipping containers. "You have no idea what I'm capable of."

"Mmm I was hoping you'd use that thigh knife on me," Togame smirked, unbothered by the position he found himself in. You could do it, you could press the blade further into his skin and end this now.

Togame saw the wheels turning in your head and put an end to them immediately. He flipped you around lightning quick, pinning both of your hands over your head. The pressure he put on your wrists caused your grip on the knife to loosen, then slip from your grasp. He caught it with his free hand, pressing it your throat. The blade was icy against your warm skin.

"As hot as that was, I'm not trying to die tonight princess," he whispered in your ear. "Or ever, for that matter." You tried to squirm away from him, but he was too strong. His thigh was slotting between your legs, too much like the position you'd been in the prior evening. Your body betrayed you by responding with a hint of want.

"So two weeks, you and me, and the best will win," Togame said. "Do I get a good luck kiss?"

"Fuck off," you spat.

Togame sighed. "I'll get that kiss one way or another." He released you, flipping the knife back to you. "See you soon, princess."

With that you were alone, staring down the barrel of two weeks that were likely to change everything.

***

And so began your game of cat and mouse with Togame Jo. You went for a run the following morning, hoping to clear your head. Later in the day you received a text from Togame with a photo of you jogging.

That's a cute little set you got on

He was referring to the matching bike shorts and sports bra your wore. It happened to be your favorite, but now you were scowling at it. How had he been so close you didn't notice.

You had to one up him.

The next day you used the intel Bofurin had provided you on Togame's movements. You staked out the coffee shop he frequently, snapping a picture of him picking up his order.

Didn't picture you as an oat milk guy

You had texted him. He responded instantly.

I'm just happy you've been picturing me. Any other fantasies you want to share?

His message bothered you because you had been fantasizing about him. Your mind kept drifting to that night, his kiss, the way he touched you... You tried to convince yourself it was meaningless intrusive thoughts, but it didn't help how ridiculous it felt. You should be focusing on capturing him, not how it felt to have his fingers slide between your thighs... Anyways.

It didn't help that you were now sending photos back and forth every day, getting closer and closer to one another. It was almost like a game, how close could you get without the other noticing? To make matters worse, Togame started calling you.

You ignored it at first, but curiosity got the best of you. At first it was just little taunts about seeing each other, but the conversations became longer and longer. You actually found yourself looking forward to them, waiting by your phone in the evening.

All the while you were inching closer and closer to each other. Once, you'd been tailing him, certain he was unaware. But a few turns led you to a dead end, which nothing but a post it on the concrete reading nice try princess.

Never one to be one upped, you led him on a wild goose chase the following day. You left him a polaroid photo of yourself flipping him off.

That night Togame thanked you for the photo in that sweet, syrupy voice of his. Telling you he was going to keep it in his wallet. You blushed despite yourself.

You were being absolutely ridiculous, you realized. A week passed, half the time before everyone in Shishitoren would know who you were, and you were blushing over some stupid comment from Togame. It was idiotic. You were treating this like some stupid game, forgetting how dangerous your opponent was, how high the stakes were.

You weren't proud of how you tried to get your mind off things. Hiragi came over and you turned that damned phone off, shoving in the darkest corner of your drawers. He was in your bed within an hour.

And it was good, sure. Having dated Hiragi he knew your body well, but it didn't stop your mind from drifting to Togame. If you believed in magic, you would think he's bewitched you. Realistically you were just being weak, letting a guy get in your head like this just because he was attractive. Maybe Ume was right to not trust you with serious stuff if this is how you handle it.

When Hiragi left the next morning, you felt worse than before. Nothing changed and now you felt guilty about using Hiragi. You'd hooked up a few times, so you didn't think it was that big of a deal. But knowing you had ulterior motives he wasn't privy to made you feel bad about it. Ugh.

Like clockwork, Togame called you that evening.

"You had another guy over last night? And hear I was thinking we had something special," Togame mused.

"Didn't take you for the jealous type," you replied.

"I've never been a very good sharer," he replied. "Especially not with Bofurin guys."

"I guess it's a good thing I'm not sharing anything with you, then," you replied.

"That was Hiragi, wasn't it? That your type? Good guys?" Togame questioned.

"And what if it is?" You bristled, more in defense of Hiragi than anything.

"You'll be very bored," Togame yawned, "Does he even satisfy you."

You thoughts of the prior evening, Hiragi's hands in your hair, your bodies press together, him slipping inside you. The orgasm good, but not like that night with Togame...

"Yes," you answered.

"Hmm was that hesitation I sensed, princess?" Togame purred. "Is he not getting you off? You know I could."

"Beginner's luck."

"Oh? Wanna test out that theory?" Togame replied. "I've been wanting to get a second taste."

"Goodnight Togame." You hung up and tossed your phone away.

***

Thank god your friends were having a girls night. You needed to relax and get your mind off things. Not only were your thoughts about Togame incessant and irritating, but you were edging closer to the 2 week mark. Just a few days stood between you and the entirety of Shishitoren knowing who you were. You could feel the clock ticking.

But not tonight. Tonight you were just hanging out with your friends, getting wine drunk, and thinking only of gossip and drama. It was exactly what you needed.

You talked well into the night, but insisted on going home even though your friend said you could say. The alcohol was wearing off, but there was still the slightest buzz in your body and all you wanted was your bed. Your place was just a few blocks away it would be fine, you had told her.

Perhaps it was the buzz, or the way you let your guard down around your friends that had lulled you into a false sense of security. You were certain you would have heard the footsteps if it wasn't for that.

"Hello, princess." The voice was low and close to your ear. Too close.

You spun around, your knife whipped out and pressed agains the neck of-

"Togame," you gasped. Adrenaline and fear coursed through your system, making you breathless. "What the fuck?" You were pissed at him for scaring you, pissed at yourself for being so oblivious that it allowed him to scare you.

"It's dangerous for you to be walking home alone at this hour," Togame replied. He hadn't even flinched when you pulled the knife on him.

You grumbled, tucking the blade back into its hiding spot. "Yeah, you're the danger."

"There's worse things than me out here, princess," Togame replied. Something about his words sent a shiver down your spine. "Let me walk you home."

You eyed Togame, wondering if this was all some ruse. He could have just gotten you, easily. That really freaked you out. But... he didn't. There was a curiosity about him that nagged at you. Maybe, you wondered, getting those questions answered would put him out of your head.

"Walk me to the park, I don't wanna go home yet," you replied. You started walking, not waiting for him to agree. This time you were keenly aware of his footsteps trailing right behind you.

Togame broke the silence as you settled down onto a bench next to a willow tree. The park was usually bustling with life, but at this hour it was still and silent. "Another romantic spot you've chosen for us."

"Are you incapable of being serious?" you replied flatly.

"Usually," Togame grinned.

Despite his aversion to giving straight answers, your curiosity got the best of you. "Why didn't you grab me back there? You completely caught me off guard. You could have..." You trailed off, the bitter taste of almost defeat preventing you from finishing the sentence.

"That's the million dollar question, isn't it?" Togame considered. "I guess I'm not ready for this to end yet. Having too much fun."

"So you just want to toy with me longer?"

"I wouldn't say that," Togame replied, "I'm a bit... conflicted about what comes next. I don't take pleasure in the idea of handing you over to Choji as a bargaining chip, but I owe him. I'm just delaying the inevitable, I suppose."

"You're nothing like I expected," you commented.

"Oh? What did you expect?"

"I just thought you were going to be, well, evil," you replied, "The rumors about you make you seem like a monster, but I don't see that. At least I haven't yet."

On some level you felt Togame could just be showing you what he wanted you to see. That he was playing the long con and trying to lull you into a false sense of security. But you realized you weren't truly afraid of him. You were afraid of getting caught, of what Choji might do to you, of disappointing your brother, but Togame? He didn't strike that deep fear in you that you've experienced from some other men.

Togame chuckled. "I'm certainly not a saint, but I'm no devil. I reckon it's easier for guys to make me out to be a monster than admit they were beat fair and square. You on the other hand live up to the rumors."

"What rumors?"

"Well, for a while all we knew was Umemiya had a beautiful little sister," Togame explained. "You're every bit as stunning as they say, which makes my job harder."

"Really? Is that all they say about me?" you replied, ignoring how Togame's words brought a tint to your cheeks. You were more annoyed that people only commented on superficial shit because you were a girl, most likely.

"To be fair, Ume did a really good job of hiding any information about you," Togame replied. "Honestly, you've surprised me in a lot of ways too. I kinda expected you to be bratty." Togame smirked. "Which, I guess you are, but you're also strong, brave, and smart. Being your enemy isn't easy."

Pride surged through you. People often questioned your abilities, whether it was because you were a girl or Umemiya's sister. Either way, it always made you feel like shit, like everything you've accomplished meant nothing.

"Thank you," you replied.

"Of course," Togame said. "Can I ask you a question now?"

"Sure."

"That night at the docks, I made a joke about you killing and it seems I touched a nerve," Togame said. "It's left me wondering, have you ever killed someone?"

"I have," you replied, your voice thin.

Togame raised a brow. "Did it not go well?"

You sighed. "You could say that." Your arms wrapped around yourself instinctively as the memories flooded back. It wasn't a story you shared with many, but for some reason you wanted to tell Togame.

"It wasn't my intent to kill the guy, at least that wasn't the plan going in," you began. "He was a run of the mill creep, harassing women and just a nuisance. We thought he was harmless at the time. I was supposed to just scare him off, but then he pulled a gun on me. I wrestled it away from him, but in the scuffle he got me to the ground and I hit my head hard."

You took a deep breath trying to calm yourself. "I was dazed and he... he was trying to get my pants off and..." You shuddered at the memory, how you could still feel his hands on you to this day. "Luckily he didn't get far because I shot him then. I wasn't necessarily trying to kill him, I just wanted him to stop, but it he died."

"Fucking bastard," Togame snapped. "I'm glad you killed him. I would have done it myself if you hadn't."

"I don't regret it. If it wasn't me, it would have been another girl. Someone who wouldn't have been able to defend herself," you replied.

"I'm sorry that happened to you, it's fucking awful," Togame said, "Men that prey on women are the scum of the earth." You were surprised by how genuine he was, the fire behind his words.

"Shishitoren doesn't exactly have the best reputation, you know," you replied. You knew some of the members have done some bad things.

Togame's face darkened. "Believe me, I know. But when I find out about it, they are dealt with by me personally. Trust me when I say I make them regret it before kicking them out." There was a fervor to his voice, one that comes from person experience.

"You seem very passionate about that," you commented.

"My dad beat on my mom," Togame told you. "I was really little, my memories are only vague now. I just remember being really scared and feeling so powerless. I couldn't help my mom then, but if I can stop other abusive assholes now I feel like it makes up for it somehow."

"He sounds like a piece of shit," you replied. You hated the thought of Togame cowering as a child, watching something no kid should ever have to.

"He was. He left us when I started getting older," Togame said. "I think he knew I would fight back when I was big enough. Those few years without him, when it was just my mom and I, were some of my happiest." He stared off into the distance for a moment, lost in a memory you couldn't see. "Then my mom got sick. Advanced form of cancer. She was gone within a year of the diagnosis. I didn't have anyone, no other family or anything. That's when I met Choji."

You found yourself leaning into him as he spoke, drawn to the story, drawn to him.

"He brought me into Shishitoren, gave me a purpose and a family. I honestly don't know if I would have made it without him," Togame admitted. "I feel like I owe him now. I'll do practically anything he asks because he was there for me when no one else was."

You looked at Togame then. Really looked at him. His story changed your view of him completely. You understood him, you realized, more than you ever expected to. You wondered, then, how different things would have been if Ume had met him and not Choji.

"I'm sorry Togame," you replied. "Ume and I lost out parents when we were younger. Robbery gone wrong. It was so painful, but at least I had my brother. I can't imagine what it would be like to go through that on your own."

"I guess we are more alike than we ever thought, huh y/n?"

"Yeah, I guess we are."

Togame was a good person, you decided, but was led astray by feeling indebted to a man who was not good. But if it had been Ume? Someone who would have kept him on right path? If you had met under different circumstances...

You had the sudden urge to kiss him. It was not a feeling borne of lust, rather of the desire to be close to him. To feel him. Togame's eyes met yours and you sensed it in him too, that desire. But you were scared of breaking this moment, of shattering this fragile thing that was taking root.

You opted to take his hand, warm and rough in yours, and squeeze it gently. You went to pull it away, but Togame held you.

"Y/n..." he breathed.

"I should go," you replied, without moving.

A silent conversation happened between the two of you. An understanding of the inevitable coming.

Togame nodded. "I'll walk you home." You didn't protest this time. You walked together in a weighted silence, exchanging quiet goodbyes at your apartment.

You fell asleep thinking only of Togame.

***

You went for a walk the next day, trying to calm the storm of your mind. There were only two things you knew for certain: feelings for Togame had taken root in you and if you didn't turn him in in the next 2 days everything would go to shit.

A headache was starting to form when your phone rang. The number you've come to know as Togame's flashed across the screen. Call it intuition or an anxiety disposition, but you knew something was wrong.

"Hello?"

"Y/n, where are you?" Togame was breathless, almost frantic.

"I'm in the park. What's wrong?"

"Choji, he released your picture."

Your blood ran cold. "What? I thought we had two more days?"

"He was in a mood. He thought I would have caught you by now. Fuck," Togame said. "They're coming, you gotta get back to your place. I'm on my way."

"Shit okay," You replied. You told him the route you planned to take, one that was out of the way, hoping you couldn't be followed. Togame said he was going to try to catch up with you. "Thank you, Togame."

You hung up then, walking as briskly as you could without drawing attention to yourself. You thought you were doing well until you rounded a corner and saw a bright yellow jacket heading towards you. You turned around only to find another one coming up the block.

Shit. You took off down an alley, following the twists and turns you hoped would confuse them. You could hear their footsteps behind you, buzzing like angry wasps hunting you down. Your pulse was hammering in your ears, knowing they were gaining on you.

"Fuck," you gasped. You hit a dead end. You turned around bracing to face your attackers.

"Well if it isn't the princess of Bofurin," one of the men said with a nasty smile. "You're quite the prize."

"Fuck off," you snapped.

"No can do," The other man replied. The both stepped closer to you, caging you in. "Why don't you just come nice and quietly with us? We'd hate to mess up that pretty face of yours."

"No fucking way." You pulled your knife out. "You want me? Then you're gonna have to kill me."

You lunged at the first man, slicing him across the arm. He let out an angry yelp. "Fucking bitch!"

The both went after you, you were more agile, maneuvering away from them. You landed some blows on them, but they were tough. It wasn't enough to knock them out. The circled you, getting you closer and closer to the wall, with nowhere to go. The knife was knocked out of your hand, hitting the concrete with a clatter.

"Got you," the other guy sneered. He reared back, poised to strike you, but he was suddenly ripped away from you.

"Togame?" the first man said, bewildered.

You'd never seen such anger in Togame's eyes. He was in a frenzy, beating the man who was about to hit you into the ground.

"Dude what the fuck? We're on the same team?" the first man yelled. Togame paid him no mind. The man tried to pull him off his partner, but Togame shoved him away. "I'm not dealing with this bull shit."

He pulled out a gun, aiming it right at you. You gasped, ducking just in time to miss the bullet that whizzed past you and struck the brick behind you. You felt a white hot pain on your ear, your fingers coming away with blood. For a horrible second you thought you had been hit, but the bullet had only grazed you you.

All Togame saw, though, was you bleeding due to another man. He snapped, jumping the guy that shot you. He ripped the gun out go his had and pistol whipped him, knocking him out cold. He kicked him, despite the guy being unresponsive. You were afraid he might kill him.

The other guy tried to get up, staring daggers at Togame. All other thoughts left you as you lunged at him. You beat him to the ground, dodging his blows as best you could. With a final punch to the face, the man went limp.

You and Togame stood, both panting. "Are you okay?" He was cupping your face, inspecting you for signs of damage.

"I'm okay. Let's just get out of here before they get up."

You made it back to your apartment unscathed. Togame was flurrying around you the second you were alone.

"You're not okay, you're bleeding," he frowned, looking at your ear. Some of the blood had dripped down on to your shirt, making the wound look worse than it was.

"It just grazed me," you replied.

"You could have died." You shuttered at the truth you had tried to ignore. A few millimeters separated you from death. "Do you have a first aid kit here?"

You directed Togame to it, who insisted on caring for your wound. His had were delicate and diligent as they cleaned the wound. You sat on your bathroom counter, Togame leaning so close to you, you could feel his breath fanning across your skin. It made your stomach flip.

"Am I going to live?" you joked.

Togame cracked a small smile. "Yes, but only because you have such a great doctor." He finished secure a tiny bandage to your ear, his hand dropping. You deflated at the lost of contact.

"Togame," you said, looking into his emerald eyes. "You saved me, but what does that mean for you? Are you going to be in trouble?"

Togame shrugged. "I'll tell Choji I was about to capture you and those two idiots busted in and ruined it. He'll believe me. I just... I just wish it didn't have to be like this."

"Me too," you admitted.

Togame looked at you with longing. "What do you want?"

What a loaded question. You weren't even sure if you knew what you wanted, in a long term sense. You couldn't think outside of this moment. And what you wanted now was clear to you. "I want you."

It was like a switch was flipped then. All your reservations gone in an instant. Your lips connected with his and your word was set ablaze. You had kissed him before, of course, but this was totally different. This was more than just hunger and lust.

You wrapped your legs around Togame's waist, holding him close to you. He gripped your ass, lifting you off the counter. His tongue slid into your mouth, pulling a soft moan of contentment as he walked you to the bedroom.

You were a tangled mess as you fell together on the bed. The weight of Togame on top of you equally comforted you and flamed your desire. He was so solid, so strong you couldn't stand any layer of clothing being between you and his skin any longer.

"Someone's eager," Togame teased as you yanked off his shirt.

"Like you're not?" you countered, giving the bulge in his pants a squeeze. You pulled your own shirt off, relishing the desire that flooded his eyes when they flicked down to your chest.

"Oh, I definitely am." Togame leaned back over you, caging you in. "I'm not scared to admit it." He was kissing down your neck sucking at your skin. "I haven't gone a night without thinking about you since we met." He was at your chest now, his tongue tease your nipples.

He continued down your body, his breath against your skin as he spoke. "Been dreaming of touching you against." He slid your pants down your legs, pressing a kiss to your cloth covered cunt. "Dreaming of tasting you."

You squirmed, aching for release, for him. You murmured a desperate plea for him to continue.

"This time, y/n," he slid your underwear off you, "I want to you say my name when you cum. My real name."

Togame licked a stripe up your dripping cunt, shamelessly moaning. "Fuck you're so sweet." He ate you out like a man starved. It was messy and frenzied, but diligent. He knew exactly how to work you up, rolling your throbbing clit with his tongue before sucking on it.

Your hips bucked as your hands knotted in his raven-black hair. Togame groaned in response, loving the stinging pull of you gripping his hair.

"Jo!" you moaned as he pressed his tongue inside you. It was warm and wet and sinful as he fucked you with his tongue. The sound of his name on your lips drove him near mad. He cock was heart and aching as he ground into the bed for some relief.

You rolled your own hips, chasing the high that was building rapidly. Your throbbing clit bumped against his nose, sending jolts of lightning pleasure through you. "You like that y/n?" Togame mused. "Like fucking my face with this pretty little cunt of yours?"

You whined in response, words escaping you as he swirled his tongue impossibly faster. It was so much, too much. Your orgasm hit you with white hot pleasure, consuming all your senses.

"Jo- ngh," the words slurred out of you. Togame hummed contently against you, lapping up every bit of release. He was painfully hard then, but it no rush. He wanted to savor ever bit of you.

You, however, were not so patient. You were yanking him up by his hair, desperate to kiss him again. He chuckled against your lips as you pawed at his pants. "What's the rush, angel? We got all night."

"Need you," you murmured into the kiss. You were hooking when you heard your name. You were so lost in the haze of lust that you didn't realize it wasn't Togame who had said it. Your head whipped around to find-

"Hiragi," you gasped. You were frozen in shock. Your brain couldn't compute Hiragi being here in this moment. Hiragi appeared equally shocked.

"What the fuck is going on?" He was glued to his spot in the doorway, like a deer in headlights. You were vaguely aware of Togame beside you, poised like a cat who was debating pouncing.

"I-I can explain," you stumbled over your words. You were scrambling to put your clothes back on. It was nothing Hiragi hasn't seen, but you felt too exposed. You sensed Togame doing the same, all while keeping his eyes carefull trained on Hiragi.

"I thought you said you weren't going to sleep with him," Hiragi said, a current of emotion in his voice. He was just shocked, he was hurt. Although you have not been together for awhile seeing you with another man- Togame no less- was like a knife in his heart. Your shame was instantly amplified with guilt.

"I'm sorry Hiragi I-I didn't expect to..." Your voice trailed off because how could you tell Hiragi you developed feelings for Togame? You hadn't even fully admitted that to yourself.

Hiragi snapped. "You were supposed to be being smart y/n! Just lured him in and capture him. What the fuck where you thinking?"

"Whats that supposed to mean?" Togame scowled. "Was this a trap, y/n?"

"No Togame I swear-"

"No?" Hiragi was bewildered. "Don't tell me you want to sleep with him."

"Of course she wanted to," Togame replied, but there was a hint of uncertainty in his voice. "Why don't you tell your little friend the truth."

Fuck, this is bad. No matter what you said, you were screwing yourself over. If you admitted you wanted it, it would destroy Hiragi and your brother would certainly find out. But if you lied, that would ruin what you've developed with Togame.

Togame took your silence as an answer. "Whatever. I don't need this bull shit." His words were angry, but his face was crumpled with sadness. He walked towards your window, where the fire escape was.

"Togame please wait." You rushed after him, but he shrugged you off.

"I don't like being used, y/n," Togame snapped. "This meant something to me, but if it was all an act for you, I have no reason to be here any more."

"It wasn't, Togame please." But he was already gone, anger and hurt preventing him from listening to you.

You were left with Hiragi now, who was staring at you dumbfounded.

"You actually have feelings for him? For Togame fucking Jo?"

What was the point of lying now? "Yes."

Hiragi made a sound of disgust. "Seriously? He's just fucking playing you. You walked right into his trap. I thought you were smarter than this."

Anger flared in you. "He's playing me. And I know exactly what I'm doing. He's not wha everyone thinks."

Hiragi scoffed. "He's really got you fooled. He's a piece of shit, y/n. Everyone knows it."

"He's not! You don't know him like I do," you insisted. "He's been good to me."

Hiragi searched your face. "These past two weeks... have you been with him?"

"Not... sexually," you cringed. "This was the first time we ever, well..." You explained how you met Togame, without knowing who he was. "We've been in contact since then, but this was the first time it got physical. I didn't plan to feel this way, honestly, I had planned to capture him. But then, I don't know, it just happened."

Hiragi looked utterly disappointed in you. Disappointed and heartbroken. "Ume trusted you with this. I trusted you with this. Hell, all of Bofurin was counting on you to get this done and this is the shit you pull?"

You stared at him, not knowing what to say. Nothing felt right.

"I wasn't enough for you, but Togame was?" Anger bled out of his voice, replaced by pain.

The way Hiragi looked at you then broke you. You never wanted to hurt him. "Hiragi please-" You took a step towards him, but he stepped back holding his hands up.

"Don't. I can't even look at you right now," he replied. "I'm leaving."

You didn't bother trying to stop him. You dropped to the floor when you heard your apartment door slam shut, sobs wracking your body as you felt your world crumble around you.

***

The next morning you woke feeling worse than you had with any hangover. Your head throbbed but, worse, your heart ached. You reached for your phone, finding the inevitable 'we need to talk' text from Ume. He told you to meet him at the rooftop in an hour. Ugh.

You got ready, feeling like you were preparing for your own funeral. You tried to figure out what you were going to say, if there was any way to explain this that made it seem like less of a disaster. You were coming up painfully short. You couldn't stop thinking about Togame, how he looked when he thought you were tricking him. What must he think of you now?

As if reading your mind, you received a text from Togame. He was asking you to meet to talk. You knew you should go see your brother, but what if he kept you on lockdown? You'd never be able to explain things to Togame and he'd go on thinking you used him this whole time.

Umemiya was already mad at you, how much worse could it get? Maybe if you could figure things out with Togame, you could advocate for yourself more to Ume. Maybe you could make him see Togame as you see him. You had to give it a chance

You texted Togame back, saying you'd be there in 15 minutes and set off for the address he sent you. You prayed things hadn't been totally ruined between you two as you weaved between pedestrians on the sidewalk.

If you hadn't been so caught up in what you were going to say to Togame, you might have thought more about how it was odd he was asking you to meet in an old warehouse. You may have noticed that it was oddly quiet as you approached, a stillness that is manufactured by someone trying to make a space seem unthreatening.

But you were so wrapped up in your thoughts of Togame, of your brother, that you were shocked when you stepped inside and found yourself face to face with Choji.

"Hello y/n," he said with a mean smile. You immediately turned to run, but two men jumped out to block the door, aiming guns at you.

Fear flared inside you. Fear and sadness. Had it been Togame who has betrayed you this whole time? You had no time to process this as Choji ordered the guards to grab you.

"Get off me!" You thrashed, trying to get away from their grasp. But they were too strong, too comfortable pressing the gun against your back. You knew you had to comply, to at least live longer. They manhandled you into a chair, tying you down.

"Leave," Choji commanded his underlings coldly. They complied wordlessly. Somehow, being alone with Choji was scarier than being outnumbered. "So you're the infamous y/n? I have to say I'm disappointed." He yawned, as if bored. "I was told you were well trained, but you seem rather weak to me."

You ignored his barb. "Why don't you untie me and see about that."

"Hmmm, I don't think so," Choji replied. "I'm more interested to see how you'll fair against someone else." Choji took out his phone, sending off a text to someone. Moments later, a back door opened and Togame walked in.

"What the hell is this surprise abou-" Togame stopped dead in his tracks when he saw you. The look of fear and confusion on his face was like a wave of relief over your body. He didn't know about this. "Choji what is this?" He demanded.

"I thought you'd be happy, Togame," Choji replied. "I did your job for you."

"It was you who took my phone then?" Togame said. "You fucking lied to me."

"Oh? And you haven't been lying to me?" Choji raised his brow. He seemed calm on the outside, but you could sense anger brewing inside him.

Togame scowled. "I have always been loyal to you."

"Prove it," Choji replied. "Hurt her." Choji pulled a knife out from his sleeve and tossed it at Togame's feet. "Cut her up and I'll believe you."

Togame looked from the knife to Choji to you a decision settling over him. "No."

Before Choji could reply, the entrance burst open as Umemiya and Hiragi ran in. "Y/n!" Your brother cried when he saw you.

Choji pulled out a gun, leveling it at them. "Take a step and I'll blow your head off." He turned the gun to you. "And her's too." The conviction in his voice and the flare of violence in his eyes told you he would keep his words.

"Choji you don't have to do this," Togame stepped forward. Choji swung the gun in his direction, those he looked much less in inclined to shoot Togame.

"What the fuck has gotten into you Jo?" Choji snarled. "Did you forget you answer to me?"

"Come on Choji, don't point that at me." Togame took another tentative step forward. "Can't we just talk about this?"

Choji let out a dark chuckle. "Talk? You wanna talk about how you're going to betray me over some Bofurin bitch?" His anger was seeping out of him, cracking the cold facade. "We've been loyal to each other for year, Jo. And what? You fuck her stupid little cunt and betray me? I didn't know you were so stupid. Or weak."

"Don't fucking talk about her like that." Togame snapped. "I'm not fucking scared of you Choji."

You were watching this interaction in a fearful silence. The air felt charged, one wrong spark and it would erupt with violence. Sweat beaded your forehead as you worried what Choji might do. Not even to you, but to Togame.

"You've forgotten your place, Jo," Choji spat. A mean gleam sparked in his eye. "But I think I know how to remind you." Choji swung the gun in your direction.

You vaguely heard your brother scream behind you, but the world was falling away from you. Everything seemed to be moving in slow motion as the gun let out a loud BANG. Your eyes scrunched shut, your whole body tensing as you braced for the impact, for the pain.

But it never came. When you finally opened your eyes you saw Togame on the ground in front of you, blood seeping out of his shoulder. Choji looked as shocked as you felt.

"Togame!" you cried desperately fighting against the ropes the bound you. Choji fled with a curse as Ume and Hiragi rushed to your side. The second they cut through the ropes you flung yourself down to Togame's side.

"Fuck Togame, why did you do that," you cried. Blood stained his shirt where he was hit. You applied pressure to his wound, feeling the warm blood seep between your fingers.

Togame let out a groan of pain as he shifted to look at you, but grinned. "Just felt like doing the right thing for once."

Tears sprung in your eyes. There was no denying how you felt about Togame and the fear of losing him now was suffocating. "Please Ume, please we have to help him!" you begged your brother.

Ume looked like he didn't quite know what to make of what he saw, but nodded nonetheless. "I already have Hiragi calling for help. It's going to be okay, y/n."

You turned back to Togame, who was breathing raggedly. "If you die on me I'll fucking kill you Jo."

He smiled again. "Wouldn't dream of it, princess."

Help arrived quickly, whisking Togame away. It was Bofurin's special team of doctors, one that allowed us to avoid hospitals in sticky situations. You wanted to go with Togame, but your brother insisted you get checked out yourself.

"I'll be fine, y/n, I promise." Togame squeezed your hand before they slid him into the back of a van.

You were taken in Ume's personal car back to his place. You were quickly deemed fine, just a little scratched up. Ume insisted you rested at his place overnight to make sure you were okay. Togame, he insisted, was in good hands and he'd instructed the doctors to keep him updated.

You slept fitfully that night, only pure exhaustion pulling you into the depths of sleep. You woke to good news: Togame was fine.

"Can I go see him?" you asked.

"They recommended he rest a few days," Ume replied. "You can go then. We have a lot to discuss in the meantime."

You shrunk under your brother's stare. "I guess I have a lot of explaining to do, huh?"

"I would say so."

So you explained it all. How you happened to meet Togame, not realizing who he was until the meeting the next day. How you fully intended to go through the mission as planned, wanting nothing more than to support Bofurin and gain your brother's confidence that you could handle difficult assignments. How you slowly came to know Togame more, finding he was nothing like the rumors that proceeded him.

"I really didn't mean fo this to happen," you explain. "I just... I was scared of letting you down. I know I should have told you right away, but I thought I could figure everything out on my own. Show you I was capable. But I really fucked that up. I'm sorry Ume."

Ume was quite the whole time as the words poured out of you, his expression unreadable. Your heart pounded as you waiting for his response.

"I'm sorry too, y/n," Ume said, surprising you. "All I've wanted was to protect you, but I see that I've gone overboard. I never meant for you to feel like I didn't trust you or didn't you were capable. There's no one I trust more than you, but also no one I worry about losing more."

Hearing your brother's praise warmed you. "Seriously?"

"Of course," he affirmed. "Of course I'm upset that you weren't honest with me, but I can understand why you did what you did... And this stuff with Togame, you really like him?"

"I do." You surprised yourself with how quickly you responded. "I think he's a good guy, Ume. I want you to get to know him like I have."

"I can't lie, the thought of you doesn't make me feel great," Ume admitted. "But I trust your judgment. All I know about him is what I've heard from others. If he is important to you, I wanna get to know him more."

You hugged your brother. "Thank you Ume."

He squeezed you back. "Of course, y/n. We are definitely going to have to talk about this more, but there's someone else who wants to talk to you."

Ume left the guest room he had you staying in and returned with Hiragi. "I'll give you two some privacy." He shut the door behind him, leaving you alone with Hiragi, who was hovering uncertainly.

There was a beat of awkward silence before you spoke. "I'm sorry Hiragi. You of all people did not deserve how I handled this."

Hiragi moved finally, sitting next to you on the bed with a sigh. "Is Togame... is he your boyfriend?"

"No, not exactly," you replied. "I know I have feelings for him and I have a lot to work out with him. But I can see myself with him."

"Were you with him when we... hooked up last week?" Hiragi asked, struggling to look at you.

You winced. "No, I hadn't been with him physically at that point if that's what you mean." You sighed. "I knew I felt something for him, but I thought my emotions were just screwed up. You were comforting and safe, I thought it would settle my mind. I never expected that I would develop really feelings for him. I'm really sorry I dragged you into this mess, Hiragi."

"You know, I kinda thought we'd end up together eventually. Guess I've been listening to Ume too much," he chuckled humorlessly. "I was hurt shocked when I saw you two, but I shouldn't have yelled at you like that."

You shook your head. "No, I definitely deserved to be yelled at. I hate that I hurt you, I never intended that. I hope you know I care about you so much."

Hiragi nodded. "I do. And I want you to be happy and not have there be any issues between us. I value you as friend no matter what."

Tears pricked in your eyes. You didn't realize how scared you were at the thought of losing Hiragi in your life until this moment. "And I want use to stay friends, no matter what. You will always be special to me, Hiragi. Nothing and no one will change that. I hope we both find who make us happy. You deserve that more than anyone."

"Thanks, y/n," Hiragi hugged you tightly. "But I hope you know if Togame ever hurts you I'm beating his ass myself."

You laughed. "You have my permission. Hell, I'll help you if he hurts me... but I think he might surprise you."

"We'll see about that," Hiragi replied. "You rest up, okay?"

You nodded. "Thanks for coming by, I'll see you soon."

****

You woke to good news the following day: Togame was well enough for visitors. He was resting at his apartment, which Ume drove you to. You almost laughed at how absurd this was. Never did you think Ume would be dropping you off at a Shishitoren's place, but the last two weeks have certainly turned your life upside down.

"If you need me to come get you, just give me a call," Ume said as you climbed out of the car.

"Thank Ume." You shut the passenger door and hurried up to Togame's place.

You were breathless when he answered the door, wearing only a grey pair of sweat that sat low on his hips. His body was perfectly toned; a little line of hair disappearing into his sweats. The only thing that indicated he was injured was the bandage around his left shoulder. That did nothing to detract from how good he looked.

"Hey," Togame smiled.

"Hey."

You practically flung yourself into him, squeezing him into a tight hug. You were careful not to hurt the left side of him, but Togame didn't seem to mind. He wrapped his right arm around you, pulling you into him further.

"Sorry for the lame one armed hug," Togame murmured into your hair. He breathed in your scent, perfectly sweet. "Doctor said I gotta let the left arm rest."

Togame shut the door behind the two of you, leading you to his couch. His place was surprisingly clean and organized. "Are you okay? Is your shoulder fucked up?"

"I'm okay." Togame's thigh brushed against you as he sat. You could feel the heat of him even through the layers of clothing. "Doctor said I'm the luckiest man alive. The bullet missed all the important stuff. He gave me some meds to help with pain, so I just need to rest and let it heal."

You let out an exhale of relief. "Thank god... But why? You could have gotten yourself killed? Why didn't you let Choji..."

"I would never have been able to live with myself if Choji hurt you and I stood by and did nothing," Togame answered. "I've turned a blind eye to the shit Choji does for so long, but I couldn't ignore this. It would make me no better than him and I'm starting to realize I want better for myself."

"I'll never be able to repay you, but I hope you know it means the world to me. You saved my life," you said. You took his hand in yours and squeezed it.

"I would do it a hundred times over, if I had to," Togame said. "When he pointed that gun at you, I realized I couldn't live without you."

Your heart fluttered at his words. "Togame, about what Hiragi said-"

"You don't have to-"

"No, please I want you to know I wasn't trying to trick you," you insisted. "I made a joke about seducing you to catch you before I really knew you. It was never an actual plan and I never thought Hiragi would take it seriously. It's important to me that you know that I was with you that night because I wanted to be. There was no motive besides my feelings for you."

The soft smile that graced Togame's face made you melt. "I understand, y/n. I should have heard you out instead of storming out like an asshole." His grin morphed into something more sly. "I'm just glad I lived to hear you say you wanted to seduce."

You groaned, but with laughter. "It was a joke!"

"Sure, sure." Togame's hand was on your thigh, rubbing little circles in the most maddening way. You slid off the couch, nestling yourself between his legs.

"Well, if you're not going to believe me," you ran your hand up his inner thigh, squeezing him through the sweats, "Might as well make it true."

Togame's eyes flooded with desire seeing you on your knees for him. Never did he think he would have the princess of Bofurin like this, but never did he think he would be falling in love with her.

He cupped your cheek, his thumb rubbing over your bottom lip. "I really am the luckiest man alive."

You grinned, pulling his sweats and boxers down to reveal his length. He was long and thick, flushed a pretty shade of pink at the tip. He was already hard by the time you licked a stripe up the underside of him. You swirled your tongue around his fat tip, making his hips stir.

"Don't tease."

You obliged, taking him in your mouth. You hollowed out your cheeks, sucking him in deeper as you bobbed your head. Your tongue teased the underside of him, his cock throbbing in response. He slid his hands in your hair, causing you to moan around him. Togame hissed at the sensation.

"Fuck your mouth is heaven," Togame groaned, his head falling back on the couch. You moved faster, spurred on by his praise. Your hands stroking the parts of him your mouth couldn't reach. You could feel his hips lifting ever so slightly, trying to get further down your throat.

Togame gently pushed you off him. "''M gonna fucking bust if you keep doing that," he explained when you pouted at him. "Wanna do that inside you. Been driving me crazy that I haven't felt you yet."

Togame was helping you to your feel, pulling you to his bedroom. "Are you okay enough to do that?"

Togame scoffed. "Nothing is going to stop me from fucking you right now, y/n."

You blushed as you hit the bed, Togame climbing on top of you. He favored his right side, but over all seemed fine. You were in no position to argue with him.

Togame helped you get your clothes off, admiring your form. "So fucking pretty." He leaned in and kissed your neck. "And all mine."

"Jo," you gasped as he slipped his fingers between your legs. He toyed with your clit as he kissed you. His fingers slid inside your pussy while he sucked on your neck and chest. You were soaked in seconds, your arousal dripping down his fingers. Togame would have liked to prep you more, but he simply could not go another minute without being inside you.

"Need you Jo," you murmured. Your hips were stirring, craving more of him to soothe the ache inside you.

"You got me, angel," Togame cooed. He gripped the base of his cock, rubbing his tip through your soaked folds. You mewled as it nudged your throbbing clit. 

Finally he lined himself up to you, letting out a groan as he pressed into the tight ring of your cunt. You sucked in a breath feeling yourself stretch around him. "Fuck, you're so tight." He slid in and out of you in short strokes, helping you both adjust. "So fucking wet too."

He dropped down to kiss you as he rolled his hips. His strokes were deep and languid, as if to savor every moment. Togame wasn't in a rush to get off, he just wanted to feel your warm cunt around him. 

Your breath was more labored with each roll of Togame's hips. His fat tip hit that sweet spot inside you so deliciously. You rocked your hips up to meet him, your clit nudged by the base of him. Sweet little noises left your lips, driving Togame wild.

"Feel good, angel? You liked when I fuck you like this?" Togame said. He picked up his back ever so slightly, making you body shudder. "Know you do, can feel you squeezing me."

"Please, Jo." You didn't even know what you were begging for, you just knew you wanted more. Wanted him. 

"Gonna make you feel so good," he babbled on. He was losing his patience to take things slow as you wrapped your arms around his neck, playing with the dark curls of hair. "Been dreaming of having you like this for so long."

"'S good Jo," you slurred. "Feels so good." Your body was trembling, desperate for the release you've been craving. Like Togame, its felt like you wanted this for so long. He was good with his hands and his mouth, sure, but ever since that first night you've been wanting this.

Togame reached between you and rubbed your clit, drinking in the moans that escaped you. "Go on and cum for me pretty."

Your back arched off the bed as pleasure flooded your veins. You were writhing as the euphoria temporarily took control of your body and mind. Nothing existed outside of the two of you in that moment. "Jo-nngh."

All of Togame's composure was lost watching you cum on cock while moaning his name. His hips stuttered, spilling himself deep inside you. You felt so warm and full of him as he rode out his high, your name dripping from his lips. 

Togame stayed inside you as he peppered kissed all over you. You giggled, holding him close to you. "You're perfect," Togame murmured against your skin. "I don't deserve you."

You cupped his face in your hands, making him look at you. "You do, Jo. You're a good man." 

Togame smiled gratefully. "I hope I can prove that to you."

"I know you will," you replied. "I know things will probably be a bit complicated right now, but I want to figure it out together."

Togame turned and kissed your palm. "Together." 

No promise ever sounded sweeter.

[aestheticaltcow]

High School

Carmy didn't like high school, but he liked you. When you asked him to speak to this year's graduating class about being a chef, how could he not say yes?

The Bear Masterlist

Carmy was quiet and shy; he didn’t do great in school but managed. If it weren’t for Mikey, he wouldn’t have left the house much. On the other hand, you were the classic popular girl- beauty, brains, prom queen, student council president, and, of course, way out of his league. 

He couldn't believe it when you’d asked him to speak at your high school career fair. It had been years since he’d been in Chicago, but Carmy assumed you’d moved on to bigger ponds by now, so to hear you were president of the alum board was a surprise. 

“Okay, next up, we have Carmen Berzatto, part of our 2009 graduating class. He is one of the youngest chefs to win a James Beard Award, owns two restaurants here in Chicago, and is a three Michelin star chef. Everyone welcome Carmen!” you happily introduced. Carmy swallowed, feeling awkward with so much attention on him. As the two of you passed by each other, you couldn’t help but notice how handsome he was. As you sat down, another alumni board member whispered, “He got so cute…” to you. You bit your lip to suppress the giggles. Tight white t-shirt, patchwork tattoos, and disheveled curls… you’d always thought Carmy was cute in a ‘shy guy’ way, but wow… 33 looked good on him.

Carmy answered a few student questions, trying his best to avoid stuttering in front of everyone. You lost track of time as you listened to his velvety smooth voice as he explained some of the roles you’d see in a typical fine dining restaurant; you glanced at the time on your phone and realized he’d gone over his allotted time. You got up and stumbled slightly before getting up to the stage. Carmy noticed and said ‘thank you’ before handing off the mic.  “Okay, everyone, it's time to head out to the quad. Vice Principal Shore will be out there to direct you to our variety of college and vocational school booths, and if there are any alumni you’d like to speak to more, we’ll be out there too.”

You watched Carmy sneak out of the multipurpose room, “Hey, you guys, go ahead. I have to call Wolf’s dad.” you said to another alumni board member and watched as students exited the building. You walked outside and quickly picked up on the smell of cigarette smoke. “Carmy,” you giggled before following the scent behind the building. 

“Still smokin’ ciggies behind the mpr Berzatto?” Carmy shook his head as he let out a puff of smoke in the opposite direction of you, “You here to bust me?” he asked, leaning against the fence. Your heart fluttered. Did he know how cool and sexy he looked in that moment?  You shook your head. “Thanks for coming, Carmy. It was nice seeing you.”. Carmy grinned. “You-uh, you wanna get a coffee sometime?” he swallowed, hoping not to come off as a loser. “You’re very handsome and successful, Carmy; you don’t want to date me.” “Why’s that?” Carmy asked as he ashed his cigarette before throwing it in the trash can. You stood there with your hands on your hips, awkwardly rolling on your heels, “Well, I have a kid and uh… an ex-husband. I’m a workaholic, and I spend a lot of time worrying about my kid.” Carmy nodded “I like kids, no ex-wife, also a workaholic…Let me take you out on one date?”

[vintagegeekculture]

RIP Tracy Tormé, Creator of the "Holodeck Malfunction Episode" and Sliders

Tracy Tormé’s most enduring legacy in popular culture is that, while a writer on TNG’s tempestuous first and second seasons, he created the entire concept of the Holodeck Malfunction Episode.

Yes, even people who suggest you skip TNG’s first couple seasons say that “The Big Goodbye” is one you don’t want to miss. And there was a very nice tribute to Tracy Torme in an episode of Picard, which had him as the author and creator of Dixon Hill… which he is, and deserves credit for this.

I suppose I should mention I had a personal encounter with Tracy Tormé at a convention. The main thing I remember was that he looked absolutely terrified when someone asked him about what happened with “The Royale,” far and away TNG’s worst episode except the clip show, about the crew getting trapped on a hotel they can’t leave from a badly written book. To his great credit, he took responsibility for the episode not working and did not pass on the problems to the production crew.

The most extraordinary thing about Tracy Torme is that he had a Forrest Gump like ability to appear in the background of scifi culture’s greatest moments.

Not only was he inside the TNG writers’ room in 1987-88, he was around during the production of Terminator with James Cameron. Tormé was the one who, hearing about the production of the film, squealed on it to Harlan Ellison, telling Ellison that it was based on his old Outer Limits episodes, with a visual based on his script for “Demon With a Glass Hand.” In other words, he was the Gavrilo Princip who got that entire conflict started, where two of the most proud personalities in scifi butted heads, James Cameron vs. Ellison. Cameron, to this day, insists that the film company gave Ellison money and a credit because it was easier to pay him off than to go through litigation (which rings true, frankly, for risk averse production companies), and to this day Cameron insists, with his absolutely expected big dick swagger, that Ellison is a “parasite” who received money for nothing, and if it had been up to him, he wouldn’t have given him a dime.

It’s also worth mentioning that Torme also created the TV series Sliders.

Has anyone else noticed that Sliders is an incredibly right wing show? Seriously, watch it again if you haven’t seen it in years. If you haven’t watched this show since the 90s and you were a kid and all that went over your head, it’s kind of amazing how Limbaugh/Newt Gingrich era right-wing Sliders actually was. It made 24 look like Doonesbury. The targets of Sliders were 90s New Right satire: health care systems, infuriating hippies, the nanny state disallowing the public smoking of cigars, California weirdness, the drug culture, the USSR. Torme’s right wing views were less John Millius-style “blood alone moves the wheel of history” stuff, but more like that of a slobby regular joe in the 90s, Dennis Leary’s character in Demolition Man for instance, who mostly just wants to smoke cigars, ogle girls, and eat hamburgers without getting scolded by his wife. He was less “Passion of the Christ” and more “Animal House.”

I am not saying this as a negative, but merely a description. Contrary to popular belief, right wingers driven by bizarre sexual pathology and weird grudges produce amazing art, as Millius and John Swartzwelder show. A lot of Steven Universe fans love to say things like “all good art is about empathy and kindness” and I reject that notion. Good art can also be about reflecting things in the human experience like fear, trauma, cruelty, and paranoia.

For that reason, it doesn’t surprise me that Tracy Torme’s best movie script was a horror film about a traumatic experience, Fire in the Sky. An ominous movie about a vanished ranch hand who was the victim of alien abduction, in the earned finale the film’s tension builds toward, our hero remembers the true cause of his missing time: an abduction by aliens, who’s motives are emotionless and incomprehensible, and who subject him to horrific vivisection that we see in excruciating detail. Travis Walton is treated not with sadism or cruelty, but with icy detachment, by alien superintellects that view him as no different than cattle, and are to him as we are to cattle. The most terrifying detail of the film is that the classic “gray alien” look turns out to be spacesuits, revealing a far more frightening appearance underneath.

[yanderecrazysie]

hey, no hate if you deny this request, but au soulmate bakugou? Yes pls.

I don’t think I could ever deny a soulmate au XD

Part 2: here

Title: Soulmate Song

Pairings: Bakugou Katsuki x Reader

WARNINGS: Yandere themes, soulmate AU, spoiler for Bakugou’s hero name, swearing

Summary: Your soulmate is not exactly what you pictured.

“Soulmates come by surprise

Bell curve it seems extremes arise

And those who beat the odds will call it fate”

-From “Soulmate Song” by Carson James Argenna

You weren’t one to look at tabloids, but even you had heard the rumors of how abrasive and rude the hero Dynamight was. You’re also sure the magazines had covered his soulmate mark. You wish now that you’d read at least one article on it, because then you wouldn’t be as taken by surprise as you were now.

You sat there on the dusty floor, coughing from the smoke in the air. The store your family owns was destroyed. Hopefully the insurance would cover it. 

Despite all the rumors surrounding Dynamight, he was undeniably a superhero at this moment. He was panting, shoulders heaving a little with each breath. The villains, however, are much worse for wear, lying knocked out on overturned shelves.

Somehow, the villains are the least worrying thing on your mind. The forefront thought on your mind is the mark on Dynamight’s left shoulder blade. A grenade with three small sparks around the top… oh so fitting for him. You shouldn’t be as surprised as you were that he was your match.

That’s right. Your own back bore the same mark. Bakugou Katsuki was your soulmate.

You didn’t exactly look your best. Your hair was blown in every direction, your clothes were covered in dust and soot, and you were sure your face was just as dirtied. But this could be your only chance to approach Dynamight, considering he was a famous person.

You got to your feet, swaying unsteadily. Dynamight’s back was to you and you weren’t sure how to get his attention.

“Excuse me, Dynamight?” Your voice came out as a squeak. He didn’t turn around.

Your hand reached out hesitantly and rested on the soulmate mark. For a moment, you admired the way it looked on his light skin, the next moment, he was spinning around, asking, “What the hell is wrong with you?”

You curled your hand into your chest, heat rising to your cheeks.

“We’re soulmates,” you whispered.

“What was that?” Dynamight didn’t seem all that interested in what you had to say, but at least he was listening.

“We’re soulmates!” You said, a little louder than intended.

The blond hero stared at you for a moment before a derisive laugh left his lips, “Yeah, right, I’ve heard that line before.”

“No, I’m serious,” you protested, “I have a tank top underneath my shirt, I can show-”

“Listen,” Dynamight said, “My soulmate is not going to be a little wimp. If I have a soulmate, she’s going to be a strong hero who can stand by my side and fight. Not someone like you who cowers on the floor like a stupid little bug.”

It felt like the life had been sucked out of you. Your stomach plummeted and then rose with the fury consuming your body. 

“Fuck you,” you spat, “I’d rather have no soulmate than be with you.”

“See, that’s a little more fiery,” Dynamight snickered.

You spun on your heel and stormed through the employee’s only entrance. The backroom was spared from the damage the villains and explosive hero had caused. 

You held back tears. Like every little girl, you had dreamed you’d meet your soulmate and live happily ever after. Even as an adult, you’d held out hope. 

But this guy? You weren’t lying when you said you’d rather have no soulmate at all.

You’d cry later, you were sure of that. But for now, anger was your primary emotion.

How dare he be an asshole? How dare he crush your dreams of being happy?

Why had the universe paired you with someone like him? Had mother nature run out of pairs to match up?

Well, forget him. You didn’t need him. There were plenty of people who lost their soulmates, surely you’d meet one of them. Or maybe you’d meet a guy whose soulmate was a total bitch and you could bond over how much the universe sucked.

You’d be fine.

—---------------------------------------------

A month had passed since that day, and Bakugou hadn’t given it a second thought. Just another crazy fan trying to get him to date them. He didn’t even care about finding his soulmate.

At least, he didn’t think he did. Not until now.

You’re playing in the waves, splashing your friend on the mostly-empty beach. He recognizes you not just by your face, but by the symbol on your shoulder blade. 

You weren’t lying.

He approached you eagerly, feeling the pull of fate dragging him closer. Sure, you weren’t the strong pro hero he was expecting, but you were solely and uniquely his.

You gave him a dirty look upon seeing him and loudly suggested to your friend that the two of you head further down the beach.

The message was clear. He got it.

He started to walk away, then stopped. Looked back at you. Felt that surge of possessiveness shoot up his spine.

You were weak. And, for the first time, he wasn’t seeing that in disgust, but in worry. You were completely unprotected, defenseless…

You needed him. And who was he to protest?

The universe wanted you together, after all.

[ad-astrah]

Finally Watched Cinderella's Castle Digital Ticket (Twice) and I Gotta Get My Feelings Out Somewhere, Somehow (Part I)

Feel free to light up my DMs to chat about it!

And now, for my personal highlights/live reactions:

immediately I'm drawn in by Nick Lang's silly narrator voice and the way he warns us of what's coming. Especially the "muRrrDder!"

Jeff Blim cut his hair. JEFF BLIM CUT HIS HAIR. Not that I didn't like the long locks, but something about his Aladdin Era short hair gets me, man.

Jeff Blim literally getting to own the stage like the man was born to

Jeff Blim's slutty bard getup with the artfully messy hair and the heavy guyliner. That sinful bastard.

"Let's go." I'll follow you anyway, slutty bard.

Okay 80s rock jam! Hell yes.

idk why but I just love the line "There are tales in those walls, are they true or are they tall?"

THIS SET, THO. 80s vibes. Muppets vibes. Princess Bride vibes. Spooky, ethereal fairytale vibes. I love it! Props to the team who designed and built it.

prance, slutty bard boy, prance around that stage.

Jesus Fuck, I've only seen Joey's puppet but I'm already SOLD. Nick and Matt Lang and whoever else had a hand in making these puppets fucking OUTDID themselves! Did they use the Black Book and resurrect Jim Henson?

Throughout the show, the muppet vibes just absolutely amaze and delight me. Makes me feel like a little kid, spellbound by this fairytale. Except it's much darker, more gruesome, way more explicit, and extremely horny.

Oh look, it's Joey's Jingle/Jangle (whichever elf he was) voice from Black Friday.

Love me some o' dat non-binary representation from Ragweed. Starkid once again screaming GAY RIGHTS bitches.

I'm getting some of Jeff's Aragog from AVPS in this Narrator. Anyone else?

Stupid STUPID butcher!

Jon Matteson's accent. *giggles madly*

Angela IMMEDIATELY having to pause for applause before she finishes her first freaking line. The queen deserves it all, though.

The foreshadowing of the Stepmother cutting off Ella's feet. O_O

"It's furryyyyy and fouuuuul and full o' maGOTTTSSaaaaaggghhhh!"

Angela doing the little spinny finger thing in a guy's face to fluster them just like Max did to her character in Nerdy Prudes. I love these physical running gags. My fave being the Smoke Club, though.

OIIIINK oinkoinkoinkoinkoinkoink

Sir Preston asking for help from the audience. His "ELLAaaaaa....nooooo....."

The lighting in this entire show is SO COOL.

Again, Jeff just louging like a whore about the set like its his bitch. I live for it.

James' COSTUME. He looks SO FUCKING GOOD. Props to the costume folks...and to James' rockin' genes.

"But nothing compares to the juice and the hairs..." Oh no. Ohhhhh no I see where this is going. Don't say it, James, don't-- omg he said it.

er ee er ee er ee *window rolling down*

I thought the Prince drawing bewbies on the frosty window was funny already, and then he goes WAH WAH WAH and pretends to pinch them and I fucking lost it.

The Prince checkin' out DAT AZZZZZZ XD

"I'd wager she's wetter now than when I first found her bobbing in the river." OH MY GOD. PRINCE. THAT'S HER NOT-MOM.

If his highness has had every STD and beaten it, that's so fucked up but also damn, that boy's immune system is killin' it. Literally.

"Poor mad EllaAH"

"This is one thirsty FUCKING house." For real, omg.

"The offer stands firm. Come calling if you are!" *screams*

Jeff miming being crew and pulling the ropes for the curtains.

*audience member sneezes* "Bless you."

Angela's diction is next fucking level. PUNY. PINK. KIND.

The epic troll reveal! The puppets are SO GOOD.

THE FROG FUCKING TURNING AWAY AS SHE ASKED FOR IT TO DO SO SHE COULD KILL IT. CHRIST.

This bayou boogie song of Ella's is an absolute KILLER BOP. Holy shit. And it's SO perfect for Bryce's funky, sassy voice.

Speaking of which, BRYCE'S VOCALS. I'm gonna scream about them for forever and ever and ever. I love her voice SO FUCKING MUCH. I could listen to nothing else for the rest of my days and die a happy little gay.

"ohhhh woah woah waohhh" *flips the bird* She's such a queen for that.

"It needs oregano" WORK BITCH

Bryce's stage presence is fucking INSANE. I dunno how she's not on Broadway, but thank goodness we got her!

SIRE MANY TADPOLES!

GOD I love this absolutely depraved, horny little bastard of a prince.

It's amazing Tadeus hasn't murdered the prince yet. The man deserves a medal for the literal shit he's put up with.

Bugette?! I thought you choked on shit died and were consumed by the Hive Queen?

Rancilda being a typical troll and loving lurking under bridges and telling riddles.

Schuyler Sister vibes from the song with Justine and Lucy. So cute.

Justine and Lucy are SUCH real ones for IMMEDIATELY believing Ella about her family being trolls and for saying "fuck the ball, we're leaving NOW."

Shake dat ass, Mariah!

Lauren's physical comedy as Rancilda is NEXT LEVEL. I'm wheezing over here!

iSNn'tT it A BiiIItTcH?!

I LOOK GOOD IN THIS. What an absolute fucking BANGER. This song is gonna play in my head on repeat for the next decade. What a next level villain song.

Also this gives me some strongass Joan Jett vibes. "I love wearin' the skin of dead girls rock 'n' roll!"

and I hEEeaARr yoU'Re RiiiCCHhH

Seriously, is this the next Top Chart breakup revenge song? It should be.

"I really LIKE that song!" XD Putrice. I love how much of an absolute BIMBO she is.

Rancilda singing the song again. "SHUT UP STUPID BITCH, THE SONG'S OVER." "Okaaaaiiii"

Matt Dahan's ability to riff off the main songs and create motifs is otherworldly.

General MacNamara? Is that you?! Oh wait, nope. Still my slutty, slutty bard.

I LOOOOOOOVE this badass electric guitar intro, holy shit.

Kim Whalen, the queen, getting the bitchin' entrance she deserves.

Starkid is so, so good at their sound design to help immerse you in a scene without blowing a big budget or doing anything elaborate.

...Kim. My girl. Your arms must be tired.

She's just standing there, but Kim's stage presence is still so strong.

I can't get over how Jon's Sir Hops-A-Lot's voice is just a small...ahem. Hop, skip, and a jump away from Wiggly's.

JOEY. THAT ACCENT. You ABSOLUTE genius idiot. I love you for this stupidass voice.

Joey's bowl cut makes me giggle like mad.

I love these two puppets SO much.

GIT IT, KIM.

The call and response bit with Ella and the Goddess reminds me of Hamilton when Washington is dictating his Farewell Address. I know it's gotta be in other musicals, too, but that's the clearest comparison for this nerd at the moment.

Jeff sneaking in the "castle on a hill" song reference in this song.

Kim and Bryce dueting together is just Power incarnate. Holy cow. It's so good.

"You shall be as radiant and terrible as I." Ooooooh. Yes. Gimme.

The Narrator sneaking out from amidst the ensemble to finish off the song was really neat.

That fading spotlight before curtain for intermission with just Ella's face in view is so beautiful and haunting. What an epic close to Act I.

Also, it seems like this was also a strategic way to imply Ella's outfit being transformed there on stage during the song without actually having to do the tricky costume designing quick-change theater miracles of an ACTUAL outfit transformation. Which is really brilliant. Leave the audience to wonder until post-intermission about what Ella's starlight dress will look like.

[vacueye]

also rbing here if anyone has any recs 😳

anyone have any spy fiction recs 👀 books, movies, comics, etc.... been making my way through james bond and le carre's stuff but i was wondering if there's anything else i should look out for :0