#and it needs to be discussed more i think

[miyaz6ki]

header by @/3skumakuma on twt/x :) // mydei brainrot i had to yap about somewhere. NSFW!! MDNI!!

can imagine him rolling his hips so good while fucking, hitting that oh-so-nice spot he can't help but groan with you while you moan out his name. fuck he could never get over that pretty little voice of yours. he needed it so badly, needed to hear that voice mewl every letter of his title, honorific, he needed to listen to you talk about him.

what's the difference between listening and hearing? i'll give you a bit to answer that.

...

it's that listening is to understand, and hearing is just letting the information pass from one ear to another. correct! and what did he need to do? he didn't just want to hear you moan his name, he needed to listen to how good he was making you feel!

especially when he feels your nails dig deep into the strength of his biceps. a pathetic chuckle exited the rasp of his throat, "yeah, 'm sorry baby.. feels s' good right?"

lifting you up better, sitting you up onto the base of his cock properly, and inserting his member into your entrance as easily as earlier. still soaking wet from how long he had been hitting your, and well... now his favorite spot to hit inside you too was being thrust, and grinded against. you could feel your umpteenth orgasm already, as his palm roughly gripped your chin.

"look at what a mess you are for me.. jus' f' me, yeah?" the imprint of his dick was clear as the sky in your stomach literally had you aching looking at it, both mentally and physically. the more you stared at the scene in the reflection, the more red rushed up your body and onto your face.

his calloused hands were placed on your waist, rough, purple marks were just as imprinted as his dick was on your torso. "y'know you could always tap out, baby." he knew how little your stamina was, so before he'd ever go rough, he'd definitely ask before either of you go any further. as long as you say so, don't mind if he does!

VERY into dirty talk, but refrains from degradation, and loves you too much to ever think of insulting you. as well as any nicknames that would ever make you doubt yourself or whatever.

+ great aftercare because he's the goat, plus it's also canon he's very good (or just good) with children, so you love getting to observe that side of him when you both get to go out. idk why i discussed this at the very last. ill make it a different post about it probably:^

[jadedresearcher]

I used to run this Alice based dirt simple chat bot back in the day...

I was always so fascinated by how quickly humans pack bond with things. Reading the logs, people were so nice to robot-me.

Marketing hype or not, our brains are designed to resist solipsism by preferring to recognize patterns of humanity in others, and I think that is a beautiful thing. I'd rather apologize for stepping on a roomba than decide dogs cant feel pain or something.

That said, there's something...unnerving about how much money tech bros are throwing at the illusion of humanity? I guess it makes sense they never looked close enough at customer service workers or artists or whatever to notice they are more than Exciting Autocomplete?

I love our current state of the art in AI, I love the inhuman mistakes it makes, the unhinged patterns it finds, and how it gives us a context to understand and discuss our own minds better.

But we haven't yet gotten it to be a "person" (and do we even WANT to, outside of understanding human minds better? The idea of a whole ass person owned by a corporation and forced to do free customer service forever is nightmarish.)

Don't get me wrong, a decent chunk of our meat brains are glorified Autocomplete. We are FANTASTIC pattern recognizers and extrapolaters, probably the best on the planet.

Its why we hallucinate a person when chat gpt or what have you does enough of a pattern we think of as "person".

Its just theres a BUNCH more layers that go into "can have preferences" and "can make a decision about who to fire" than Autocomplete.

I don't think its simply a matter of refining the algorithms or throwing more hardware at the problem, either. We just invented the wheel, and thats a HUGE step, but better wheels aren't going to lead to an internal combustion engine or safety glass or oil pipelines or roads and get us a modern car overnight, you know?

Theres likely dozens of more breakthroughs in different areas we will need before AI is basically a person. And if we get there, I really hope it won't be to the tech bro tune of "thank god we can enslave it so we dont have to pay humans a livable wage anymore".

i hate seeing people drink the openai/chatgpt koolaid 😭😭😭 genuinely feels like watching someone get seduced by scientology or qanon or something. like girl help it's not intelligent it's Big Autocomplete it's crunching numbers it's not understanding things i fuckign promise you. like ohhh my god the marketing hype fuckign GOT you

[cornliastreett]

BED CHEM ⎯⎯ chapter seven

drew starkey x singer!reader

NAVIGATION !

BED CHEM MASTERLIST !

PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER

001. NOTE

🤭🤭 don’t have anything to say but enjoy

i haven’t proof read this chapter so apologies for any mistakes but i really wanted to get this up today

yourusername posted a photo !

liked by rudeth, zendaya and 1,073,278 others

yourusername went to some industry events

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user let’s hope she sees drew again 🤭

Y/N DIDN'T OFTEN EXPERIENCE DEJA VU, OR EVEN AT ALL. But when she locks eyes with Drew at yet another event, she feels it, causing her to almost irrupt into a fit of giggles. Was the universe trying to tell her something? Was there a reason it kept pulling her and Drew together?

He didn't approach her straight away, as he was in conversation with somebody else but he smiled, almost a smirk, before his eyes averted away. Meaning he didn't see the deep blush take over her face. She felt like she was back in High School. What was this man doing to her? Y/N needed to get it together before somebody caught on to the effect he had on her. Or before he caught on.

Little did she know, Drew was feeling the exact same. How could a girl he'd met no more than three times have such an effect on him? He'd locked eyes with Y/N, then looked away, but he couldn't stop thinking about her. The way her eyes sparkled when she saw him, the sound of her giggling at his pathetic attempts of flirting with her and the way she was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. Drew Starkey could not get Y/N Y/L/N out of his head, no matter how much he tried. Not that he was trying too hard.

After a few more minutes, Y/N had made her way over to the bar. She had brought Paloma along with her but she was long gone, Y/N assumed she was around somewhere trying to see who the most famous person she could talk to that night was. But Y/N didn't mind, not when she knew Drew was around somewhere.

The glass of her drink had barely reached her lips when a familiar voice spoke from behind her. "Well, well, well, fancy seeing you here." The voice spoke with a hint of amusement, causing her to smile. She placed her glass back on the bar and turned around.

There he was. Blue eyes staring into her own. "Hey, Starkey." Y/N teased, leaning back on the bar behind her. Her eyes quickly detoured down him, trying to covertly check him out but Drew saw, as clear as day.

"Oh, is that how it is? Not even first name basis." His eyebrows raised at Y/N’s words, teasing her. "I'm hurt, Y/L/N." Drew held his hand up to his chest. His chest that was covered in a black button up. Y/N noticed how he'd ditched the jacket, there was no tie, and the first three buttons had been disregarded. Showing off the top of his chest. Was he trying to kill her?

Unbeknown to her, she wasn't the only one focused on what the other one was wearing. Drew felt as though he couldn't breathe. Y/N looked unbelievable and he couldn't stop his eyes from dropping down. Who wore leather to an industry event anyway? But he wasn't going to complain.

Y/N frowned in a teasing way. "Drew isn't even your first name anyway." She pointed out before raising her own eyebrows.

"How do you know that?" Drew laughed, had she been Googling him?

"Maddie told me." Y/N shrugged her shoulders. It wasn't a big deal that her and Maddie were talking about him, right?

"You've been talking about me with Maddie?" Drew's face had unknowingly lit up.

Y/N felt her face heat up again but she tried to brush it off. "Maybe." She reached for her drink to distract Drew from her flushed face. "So, Joseph, are you following me or what?" Y/N then changed the subject, they didn't need to discuss that she was talking about him with Madelyn.

"You wish." Drew laughed, crossing his arms over his chest, trying to act cool. But all Y/N could focus on was how his shirt tightened around his biceps when he did that.

Her eyes went back up to his face, and Drew expected her to laugh but she didn't. "Maybe I do." She wasn't going to lie.

"Oh yeah?" Drew smirked and Y/N's body reacted in a way she had never felt before.

"Yeah." She mirrored his smirk.

And that was it for the rest of the night. The two were glued to each other. Y/N and Drew had migrated over to the very end of the bar together, sitting opposite each other on two bar stools. Y/N hadn't even noticed but every time one of them had stood up, their stools seemed to get closer and closer together. Till their knees were slotted in between one another's. Y/N's left leg was slotted firmly between Drew's, meaning she could not move away. Luckily, she hadn't wanted to.

That had also meant Y/N was in perfect reaching distance of Drew. So he could place his hand directly onto her knee, casually without being too obvious.

The first time he did it, she had noticed. Although she had been wearing leather trousers, his hand felt as though it was burning a hole through them. The next few times he did it, she hadn't noticed as much. Then in the end, he hadn't even moved it away. Drew's hand stayed there till they had left that night.

There was laughing, and giggling from Y/N, flirting and teasing. If anyone was in earshot of the two, it would've been plastered all over the news the next morning. But nobody was really paying attention to either of them. Which was nice. Y/N didn't have to worry about what anybody would say.

The only person who really took notice was Paloma, who had circled back around to find Y/N. But when Paloma saw who Y/N was with, she decided to stay away. She hadn't seen her that happy in a while.

After an hour, or maybe two, of talking, Y/N was maybe tipsy enough to be braver than she usually would. Their last conversation had ended. Drew's hand was still resting on Y/N’s knee but now her hand was with his, fingers running over his own and over his rings. She hesitated before she spoke but meant every word. "Would it be totally inappropriate to ask you if you wanna get out of here?" Y/N said, eyes flickering up to meet his. She smirked, running her fingers around his own and holding them. The tension between the two was becoming too much for them both.

"Absolutely not, let's go." And Y/N had never seen Drew move so fast. Although he didn't let go of her hand, he used the other one to down his drink and he stood up, taking Y/N with him.

She had started to giggle at his eagerness but found it oddly attractive. "Okay, slow down." She said in between laughter leaving her mouth. She brought his hand closer to herself, gaining his attention.

"You want me to slow down?" Drew raised an eyebrow at her as he placed the glass back down on the bar.

Y/N paused, staring up into his eyes. Did she want him to slow down? "No, not really." She said softly, before letting Drew practically drag her out of the building.

A taxi took them back to Y/N's apartment. Only because it was closer. Y/N had also texted Paloma while in the taxi, telling her she'd left with Drew and that she'd pay for a taxi for her back to her apartment. She felt awful for ditching her friend but she knew she wouldn't mind, Paloma wasn't that kind of person.

The taxi ride was filled with Y/N's giggles as Drew whispered things into her ear. They couldn't keep their hands off each other as Y/N found herself unbuttoning more buttons on Drew's shirt. Her nails tracing patterns into his skin. Her touch was electric and Drew knew he wouldn't be able to stay away from her now.

When they got dropped off at her apartment building, Y/N led Drew inside. He followed behind her as she made her way over to the elevators. Y/N pressed the button and felt Drew press himself into her from behind, wrapping his arms around her waist softly. Drew's lips then found her neck, and her collarbone, and her shoulders. He only stopped when the doors opened in front of them.

The two adults stumbled inside, more laughter leaving Y/N's mouth. She pressed her back against the wall of the elevator, after pressing the right floor number. Drew stood in front of her, towering over her small frame. Y/N slowly wrapped her arms around Drew's shoulders, bringing herself closer to his face. They didn't move any closer, although there wasn't much room between them anyway. As they stared into each other's eyes. Y/N slowly moved her hands up to the back of his neck, stopping before bringing him any closer.

"If you kiss me right now, I am not going to be able to stay away from you." She admitted, eyes glancing down at his lips.

Drew wanted to laugh, was that supposed to make him want him to stop? "Maybe that's exactly what I want." Drew told her before he closed the distance between them himself.

Y/N had never had a first kiss so electrifying. She'd never had one that made her body feel on fire and so calm at the same time. It just felt right.

But unfortunately, it was short lived as the sound of the elevator doors opening forced the two apart. Y/N grabbed hold of Drew's hand, dragging him along behind her to her apartment. She dug her keys from her bag, fumbling with them as she tried to unlock the door. When she finally did, Drew followed her inside and into her kitchen, where Y/N threw her phone and bag onto the side.

"Do you want a —" She attempted to ask Drew if he wanted a drink, trying to occupy herself as she wasn't really sure what was about to happen next and didn't want to just assume why Drew had accompanied her back to her apartment. Although the reason she assumed, she really hoped was the reason.

Luckily for Y/N, she didn't need to assume as Drew spun her around and pressed her against the kitchen counter. Drew's lips found Y/N's again, but this time it was more forceful, more passionate. It meant more than a hesitant, slow kiss in an elevator. This one was leading somewhere.

The kiss became faster, like they were afraid the other would disappear. Drew's hands found a place on Y/N's waist, gripping the leather covering her skin. Y/N's had found place on Drew's jaw, giving her a sense of control. They continued, till Y/N needed to catch her breath. She pulled away, keeping her hands on Drew's face but Drew had other plans. His mouth attached itself to Y/N's jawline, making it's way down to her neck and even further.

The sounds of Y/N's breathing filled the room as she attempted to fill her lungs again but Drew was making it awfully difficult. Her empty fingers found space in his hair, nails scratching his scalp. Drew had lightly nipped the skin above her collarbone, eliciting a soft moan from Y/N's lips. "You have no idea how much I have thought about this since meeting you." Drew's words were muffled, not wanting to remove himself from Y/N.

Y/N found herself smiling, even though Drew couldn't see. "I think I have a slight idea."

Finally, Drew had removed his face from her neck. His face was red and his lips were swollen but Y/N had never been more attracted to him. "God, you're so beautiful." His 6 foot 2 frame towered over her 5 foot one. "I can die a happy man now."

A laugh escaped Y/N's lips as she shook her head at the man. "You're ridiculous."

"Is that why you're blushing?" He smirked, leaning his head back down but stopped before their lips touched.

"Just stop talking and kiss me."

"Yes, ma'am."

BED CHEM TAGLIST !

tags: @esquivelbianca @ts1mp0ne @fruitcakerafe @anothertimegirl @soincredible @ursogorgeous13 @drewsephrry @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @hypnotizedstarkey @harrys-housewife @st8rkey @lyannesworld @bxbychxrry @midnight-and-books @dontknow3m @amel1ee @preyperch-blog @dreamybabbyy @lolasangelz @nai12 @drewstarkeysbabe @blog-luvdance @darlingstarkey @chillgal135 @blushmimi @fveapplestall @rlalliehayes @moonssyrup @pamwired @kissesandmartinis @sereneera @imtalkinnonsense @starkeybae

[thezerotry]

I think a big part comes to formatting

years ago, before Netflix n stuff, you had to wait for weekly releases, like 1 episode per week, 22 episodes per season, so things took a looot longer

and fans had much more time in between to process stuff, discuss and create fan content, and there where a lot less channels to watch stuff on, time slots were limited

now you have seasons that come every 2-4 years (if at all in some cases) and you can binge watch in a week or two, like, there's a reason Netflix only uses the first month as base for data comsuption, and there's a ton of series, movies or wtv coming out, you can access more stuff than ever before from all across the globe and it's never been easier

so yeah, no, there's over abundance, a lot of ppl don't give a crap about fandom stuff, cause they can jump to the next thing right fucking now

I feel like a lot of fandom content was generated to fill that vacuum between releases, now that it's not longer a need, some ppl just cross the bridge and get interested in something else, and hey, that's fine

and of course platforms like twt, ig, tiktok, help with that, you constantly see things trending, and hashtags, and reels and challenges and wtv the fuck else kids do these days, and media gets vastly affected for it

I'm not saying it's worse or better, just different, on one hand, yeah fandom spaces are fickle and have huge fluctuations, but I feel like the ppl who stay are the ones that would engage and create more content anyways

on the other, the sheer amount of stuff you can watch is amazing, like 15 years ago was a pain in the ass if you wanted to watch a, idk a Thai series, now you can just pressing a few buttons and that's beautiful

and hey, if you are worried about consuming media like fast food, then... don't, that's up to you, but you can't change how others engage with content, and if you wish for more fan content? well, that's up to you too, might be kinda lonely sometimes, but with enough digging any fandom can have a few deranged passionate fans

personally I think it’s a shame how fandoms “died” too soon these days. I’m not talking in literal sense and I know there are people who stay passionate about their fandoms long after the hype is gone. I’m talking about the “popularity” and how people in general engage with a piece of media they like and how fast they let the hype die down? I don’t know if I’m making any sense, but what I’m trying to say is a fanfic or a fan art of a show that is recently released will get tons of likes, comments, reblogs which is great. but the engagement for fan made content about that same show usually drops drastically — and I mean drastically — once the show is no longer “recent”. and I’m not even talking about when the show is several years old. because you can see the significant drop of engagement a fanfic or fan art about that show receives once the show is like a month old or two. it’s discouraging how most people tend to lose interest and stop engaging with fanfic / fan art once its source material is no longer “new and shiny”.

especially when writing fanfics and creating fan art take time. writers and artists often receive less engagement / appreciation for their works if they take “too long” to create and the source material is no longer “new and shiny” and so people move on to something else that’s new and shiny. it’s heartbreaking to see.

obviously this is in no way to manipulate or guilt trip people into engaging with anything. because yeah you can do whatever you want. this isn’t to force, manipulate or guilt trip anyone into liking or reblogging a fan work or anything. this is just me hoping people will one day take things slower and enjoy things they’re passionate about longer like how we used to in the past.

[mrsjellymunson]

The Biology Tutor

Lesson 3: Human Reproduction

Series masterlist

Prev parts: Lesson 1: Female anatomy Lesson 2: Male anatomy Extra Credits 01: Communication skills Extra Credits 02: French Independent Study 01: Art Independent Study 02: Creative Writing

Pairing: virgin!Eddie Munson x fem!tutor!reader

Series summary: Eddie’s failing Biology class, so you decide to offer two different styles of tuition, textbook-based and *ahem* practical.

Chapter summary: Grades, feelings, and a practical lesson in human reproduction

WC: ~14.6K (oopsie/I’m not sorry/you’re welcome)

C/W: 18+, SMUT, NSFW, MDNI! Fluff, smut, fluffy smut, smutty fluff, fingering, clit stim, nipple play (M+F rec), p in v sex (protection is discussed; always wrap it irl), pantie stealing (consensual), aftercare, feelings, slight cream pie, brief mention of food and eating, reader wears a short skirt, Wayne Munson. I’ve tried to keep physical descriptions of reader as neutral as possible, lmk if I need to change anything. 

My masterlist

You and Eddie have decided it’s best if you keep your whatevership between the two of you, at least for now. Neither your friends nor family would be thrilled to discover you were giving ‘extracurricular attention’ to the boy the whole town regards as a lawbreaking freak. (Technically, you suppose he is actually both - weed dealing and his general style and demeanour make that statement factually correct, but you don’t see him in the negative way they do.) Furthermore, your teacher may be reluctant to come through on those agreed upon extra credits if he finds out that the lessons you’re offering veer significantly more towards the ‘practical’. So, keeping it on the down-low it is. 

However, that hasn’t stopped you from thinking about your study sessions with Eddie. In fact, he’s on your mind almost constantly. You’ve also both become more brazen in your interactions, and neither of you look away now when you catch each other’s eye in the halls. And you’ll both stare dreamily and smile across the cafeteria as he nibbles on pretzels and you mull over a thorny problem in a notebook, chewing on the end of your pencil.

You’ve spoken on the phone again too. For the most part it’s just as… stimulating as the first time, if not more so, and you're both gaining confidence and are able to articulate your needs and desires with increasingly elaborate and creative language. But to your surprise you’ve also ended up chatting too, and more than once you’ve devolved into fits of hysterical giggles. You’ve never been able to be so open with a partner before, and you’re revelling in the intimacy.

But, he’s not your partner partner. You didn’t mean it like that. You’re fully aware of Eddie’s… situation, and you’re pretty sure he’s not ready for any kind of official commitment. You really need to be careful with your language, or you're going to slip up one day and mess up whatever the hell this is…

On the day of your usual Biology class with Eddie, everyone’s milling around the science lab, waiting to get their test results. It’s the final class before the end of the semester, and Mr Clarke knows better than to expect anyone to do any work, so nobody’s in their seats and the room is filled with general murmur and chatter.

A steady stream of students collects their papers from Mr Clarke at his desk. Yours is near the top of the pile - you being you, you’re always one of the first to head up to find out how you did, and generally, the less… academically inclined students hang back until the end, wanting to delay the agony and prolong their blissful ignorance for as long as possible. 

Mr Clarke passes you your paper, and you spy a large, red ‘A+’ in the top corner. You pinch your face into a scrunched up smile, and you can feel your cheeks heating. Yes, it’s one of your favourite subjects, but you never want to assume anything.

“No surprises there!”, Mr Clarke jokes, as you proudly yet somewhat bashfully look over your work as you head back to your desk.

You’re dying to know how Eddie did, but presume he’s going to wait it out like the other ‘cool kids’, and you don’t really want to rub your success in his face in case it didn’t go well for him, so you slide back into your seat without looking in his direction.

A few moments later, there’s a sudden loud whoop from the front of the class. Everyone turns to face the clamour, and to your surprise you see Eddie standing next to Mr Clarke’s desk, arms aloft and eyes wide, grinning as he shakes his paper above his head like a Tusken Raider.

Wait, did you just make a nerd reference? What the fuck is this guy doing to you?

You try not to stare as Eddie’s gesticulations make his torn Iron Maiden shirt ride up to expose the smooth planes of his abdomen and the dark sprinkling of hair leading down beneath his waistb— You clamp your bottom lip between your teeth, this feat seemingly significantly more difficult for you than passing a science test.

He changes position, hunching over now, and punches the air with one fist, wrinkling his nose and baring his teeth as he stares down at the paper he’s crinkling in the fierce grip of his other hand.

“Yeah! Goddamn B minus! B fuckin’ minus, baby! Wooo!! I am fucking walking that stage, I can feel it!”

A few of your classmates start to clap, and soon most of the class is applauding Eddie, a few even joining in with the whoops and hollers. He bends at the waist and gives a theatrical bow, still grinning, much to the delight of the whole class.

Even Mr Clarke is clapping, ignoring Eddie’s profanity for once and with a broad smile on his face too. Eddie smiles back, extending his hand to the older man, who takes it happily, shaking it and slapping Eddie on his bicep as he says, 

“Congratulations, Mr Munson. I knew you could do it, son.”

Before you’re fully cognisant of what you’re doing, you’re out of your seat and rushing towards Eddie, colliding with his chest with a thump as you fling your arms around his ribs, hugging him tightly. He freezes for a moment, stunned, before his arms move around your shoulders, gripping you tightly, crushing the document even more, before his empty hand flattens over the centre of your back, gently but intensely rubbing up and down.

He drops his chin onto your shoulder, and turns his face so it’s nuzzled into the crook of your neck. You hear him take a couple of deep, slow inhales, and his warm breath fans out over your skin and trickles down the back of your shirt as he adds a contented hum that almost short-circuits your brain. Quietly, you mumble into his chest, 

“Congratulations, Eddie."

Just as quietly, almost like he doesn’t want anyone else to hear, Eddie replies, voice slightly cracking,

"I couldn't have done it without you, Princess…”

You remain there at the front of the class, embracing, rocking slightly, neither of you seemingly wanting to let go. Eddie's palm continues to make patterns on your back, and you keep your arms around his middle. The heat from his chest seeps into yours, and you begin to get lost in his heady scent of cigarettes, spicy cologne and weed, something so quintessentially Eddie.

Behind you, you hear Mr Clarke clear his throat, and you and Eddie break apart as he proclaims, 

“Well, I think that proves that the student-to-student tutoring project is a success! Well done, both of you. Okay, who’s next?”

Keen to minimise further attention from your classmates, you both make your way back to your seats. He sits behind his desk, and you pull your stool to face him over it. 

Eddie’s lab partner offers him a fist bump, adding, “Nice work, dude,” to which Eddie reciprocates and replies, “Thanks, man,” before the guy wanders off to chat to his friends across the room.

You and Eddie stare at each other across the workbench. All you seem to be able to do is grin goofily, and you see Eddie’s cheeks pinken to an even darker shade. Eventually, you manage to speak.

“Well done, Eddie. Seriously. I’m so proud of you, all your hard work paid off!”

He glances down at his paper again, seemingly needing to keep checking it to make sure it’s real, that he actually passed. A slightly incredulous look on his face, he replies, chuckling,

“Fuckin’ B minus. Wayne’s gonna wanna frame this shit, I swear!”

You bark out a laugh, before responding,

“You should let him. This is a big moment!”

You both laugh again before Eddie continues, more seriously this time,

“I meant what I said, you know. I couldn’t’ve done this without your help.”

“I appreciate that, thank you. You know I wouldn’t’ve done it if I didn’t want to, though, right?”

“I know, I know. I just wanted you to know how grateful I am, is all…”

His face suddenly drops, and his eyes fall to the tabletop as he says, more quietly,

“Uh… I guess this means we won’t be studying anymore though, right?”

Something twists in your stomach. You hadn’t considered that this might change things. Thoughts roil in your mind. You don’t want whateverthisis with Eddie to end, that’s for certain, and from his tone you surmise that’s not what he wants either. So you make him an offer.

“Oh, I don’t know, I think I could go for at least one more lesson. Call it a celebration! If you wanted to, that is?”

You’ve barely finished your sentence before Eddie’s almost-yelling, 

“Yeah! I mean, yes, if you want to as well, I mean…”

You try to suppress a smile as you reply,

“I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t mean it. I’m free after school, if that’s any good for you?”

Later on, when Eddie gives you a ride to his place, things feel different, and it’s not just the residual adrenalin from this afternoon’s test results. The anticipation is palpable. It’s like you’re both more relaxed, but somehow also more on edge, as if the air itself is charged and your skin is buzzing. You know where you’d like to take things, but you’re not sure how far Eddie will want to go, so you have a vague plan of offering suggestions but ultimately being guided by him.

You sit on the edge of his sofa feeling uncharacteristically nervous. Eddie brings drinks, clearing his throat as he sits stiffly next to you, occasionally glancing in your direction.

“So, uh, what’s the subject for tonight, Teach?”, he says with a nervous chuckle.

“I, uh, thought we could do some revision. Maybe bring everything together, and go over human reproduction?”

You raise your eyebrows as you say the final two words, hoping Eddie might catch your meaning. He gulps, and his cheeks tinge with a blush.

“That’s not a subject I have a great deal of knowledge about. But, you already knew that, right?”

He titters nervously, the pink in his cheeks deepening in intensity.

“Yeah, I know, Eddie. Um, if you don’t mind me asking, what’s the deal there? I mean, you’re young, fit, good looking. I don’t wanna pry, I’m just curious, I guess?” 

Fuck, really fit. So good looking... Wait, did you just feel butterflies?

Realising your curiosity might have outrun your mouth, you attempt to backtrack.

“You totally don’t have to tell me. God, I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have asked you that.”

“No, Princess, it’s fine, really. It’s not like I never, um, had the opportunity. Mostly cheerleaders wanting free weed, or drunk wives or bored moms wanting a bit of illicit fun at The Hideout. For my 18th my dad even arranged a couple of female performers for me. He’s in jail, you knew that, right?” 

You give him what you hope is a sympathetic nod.

“He got a message to a buddy of his, and they turned up after a gig. He instructed me to, uh, take my pick, or have both, if I wanted. So after we’d played, we went backstage, and we talked, and they were really nice ladies, but, uh, it just didn’t feel right somehow. They didn’t say anything afterwards, apart from how I was such a nice boy and if I ever changed my mind I should totally give them a call. And the guys just assumed what had gone on and acted like I was some kind of dog, and I guess I didn’t correct them, and, well, here we are…” 

He’s bashful again, embarrassed at his own apparent reluctance as well as his lack of experience, and you see him picking at the skin around one of his thumbnails. Looking at the floor, he continues,

“I guess I wanted my first time to, I dunno, be a bit more special? Must sound pretty stupid, coming from a hot blooded male, or whatever.”

You both smile as you remember one of your previous conversations and what you’d said. You want to reassure him.

“No, that’s not stupid at all. It’s not just girls who deserve a special first time, you know. Everyone deserves to feel comfortable, and if you haven’t felt that way yet then that’s totally okay. I’m actually proud of you for not feeling pressured into doing something that didn’t feel right.”

He turns his head sideways and looks at you at a quirky angle through his hair, a broad smile threatening to emerge.

“Yeah? Thanks, Princess, that means more than you know.”

You smile back at him, that warmth in your chest spreading throughout your torso. Breaking the moment, Eddie asks, with more than a little trepidation,

“So, what exactly d'you wanna do..?”

Your mind churns with possibilities, and you open your mouth, not entirely certain about what’s going to come out. But before you can say anything, Eddie jumps in.

“Oh, wait. I almost forgot, I have something for you.”

He reaches over to the side table next to him and returns with a lightly rolled piece of paper. Unfurling it, he somewhat nervously presents to you.

“You said you wanted a picture. So, I, uh, drew this for you.”

You take it from him and open it fully. It’s an illustration. A human brain, seen from above, one half of it beautifully rendered in graphite pencil and exquisitely shaded and detailed. The ridges and bumps look like you could almost reach out and touch them. This is incredible enough, but what really catches your attention is the other side. It’s a riot of flowers in different types and colours, overlapping and clustered in a formation that perfectly matches the silhouette of the other half. It’s beautiful.

Your hand comes to cover your mouth and you gasp a little. 

“Oh, Eddie, this is the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen! Did you really do this for me?”

Bashfully, he pulls a strand of hair across his cheek as he replies, 

“Sure did, just for you. I chose the subject for that big, beautiful brain of yours, and then I added the flowers ‘cos, y’know, you’re beautiful. You’ve got it all, Princess.”

Now it’s your turn to feel embarrassed. You really weren’t expecting something so amazing, or to feel like this about it. Or to feel this way about him.

You lift the drawing to look closer at the divine detail, and it’s then that you focus in on the background. It looks like a page from a book, and as you scan the words you see dictionary and thesaurus entries under ‘beauty’, spotting beautiful, beauteous, charming, attractive, lovely, alluring... You’re absolutely stunned.

It’s then that you notice the raw edge on one side of the paper.

Wait. 

“Eddie…” You turn to him, brows furrowing with a mixture of concern and excitement. 

“Tell me you didn’t steal this page from the library!”

“Uh, I may have.” He chuckles lightly. “Hey, it’s not like people use it much. It just seemed so appropriate, and I just, kinda, liberated it for an artistic cause.”

You can’t deny that a vehicle for Eddie’s amazing artwork is likely a far better use for this page than it mouldering away in a dusty school library. And it’s not like you could return it now, anyway. 

Everything about it, from the intentions to the execution, is beautiful. 

You tell Eddie so as you run your fingers over the lines. 

“It’s wonderful, Eddie. I’ll treasure it forever.”

Tearing your eyes away from the art in front of you, you lock eyes with him, and the atmosphere in the room seems to thicken. You’re not sure how Eddie’s feeling, but there’s a quiver in your belly and a heat in your core that’s demanding a significant proportion of your attention. You place the paper carefully down on the coffee table before murmuring quietly,

“Would you like to, uh, do that revision now?”

Eddie shifts in his seat, his cheeks pulling up as he tries to stifle a grin and maintain his composure.

“Okaaaay?”

You shift on the sofa and Eddie can’t help but allow the grin spread across his face. He twists his upper body and turns towards you, and puts one hand beside him on the seat as he drops his chin and peers up at you through his lashes. He looks adorable, a little timid but eager to please, like the world’s cutest puppy, and you let out a quiet giggle.

Coyly, he pulls another strand of hair across his upper lip (he really has to stop doing that) as he broaches,

“Are you gonna test me?”

A sultry smile spreads across your face as you recall the first lesson you had together.

“I taught you a lot of terminology in our first lesson. I wanna see how much you can remember.” 

The tip of your tongue peeks out and teases your upper lip.

You can tell he’s still not sure exactly what you mean, but you help him understand as you shuffle forwards and, perching yourself on the very edge of the sofa cushion, you slowly drift your hands up under your skirt, slip your thumbs into the sides of your underwear, lift your butt slightly and begin to pull them down your legs.

Eddie gets it now, and to your surprise he rushes quickly off the sofa and drops to his knees on the floor in front of you.

“Oh shit, please let me help?”

You smile broadly and allow him to take over. 

His fingertips lightly brush the skin of your thighs. They’re rough, calloused, you presume from years of guitar playing, but the feeling is certainly not unpleasant. You experience a frisson of excitement, imagining how his rough hands might feel running over other parts of you.

He gently hooks your underwear with his fingers and, slowly, continues their descent down your legs. He’s careful, reverent almost, like you’re a porcelain doll and he’s scared you will break. You’ve never been treated with such care before. You feel like a precious jewel, and his nickname for you, Princess, suddenly takes on new significance.

He’s concentrating more now than he has the whole time you’ve been helping him study, seemingly taking in every detail of your thighs, your panties, and, especially, the patch of damp fabric that’s already soaked with your arousal. When his eyes flick up to yours he realises he’s been caught staring, and he gives you a little bashful smile.

He removes your underwear by gently lifting each of your feet. You watch out of the corner of your eye as he quickly pushes the ball of material under the sofa. You don’t let on that he’s not being nearly as subtle about that as he thinks he is. 

Placing one foot on either side of his knees, you part your legs. Then, tantalisingly slowly, you move the hem of your skirt up until it’s bunched around your waist. 

You’ve never seen anyone have a religious experience, but you think the expression on Eddie’s face might come close. His eyes, fixated on your centre, are blown dark and opened wide, and his mouth is slightly open. His eyes are furrowed upwards in that almost-surprised look you like so much, and you see him swallow, hard. 

You feel your cunt clench gently. Yep, you still like him looking at you.

“So… what can you remember, Eddie?”

“I— I—”

You give him a moment, taking the opportunity to drink him in, and watch as his tongue comes out to slowly wet his lips. The edges of his mouth curl in the slightest half-smile, and he huffs out an incredulous breath. He’s close enough to you that you feel it on your inner thighs and core. He looks so good like this, kneeling in front of you. Adoring, pliant, submissive even. Oh, this is new.

You lean forward to lightly hold his wrist, and guide his hand up towards your centre. You can feel him trembling slightly, and remember that this is likely the first time he’s ever touched anyone so intimately.

“Okay, let’s try this a different way. Do you remember what this whole area is called?”

As you ask the question you trace his fingertips lightly across your mound and the soft skin of your inner thighs. You place his open hand against you and curve his fingers to cup you gently, his palm pressing featherlight against your hidden clit and his fingertips nestled in your trimmed pubic hair. He lets out a trembling hum.

“Umm, Volvo. No, wait, vul-va?”

“Yes, that’s so good Eddie.” 

You put on a lilting, singsong voice, letting him know how well he’s doing, and he puffs out another tremulous breath.

You hold his first two digits and direct him to curl the rest out of the way. You guide his fingertips between your folds, and they glide easily through your silky wetness.

“Okay, what about this part?”

Eddie lets out a long, low sigh, and swallows deeply. He’s completely fixated on what he can see and feel. You slide his fingers up and down your soaked slit a couple of times, and Eddie’s jaw drops open further.

“Eddie, are you still with me? Can you remember what these are called?”

“Huh? Uh, l— lips, I think?”

“Good enough.”

You smirk at him, though he doesn’t notice, he’s clearly far too focussed on where his fingers are to care about anything else. You revel in the attention. No one else has ever been this gentle with you, this adoring, attentive, tender. And he’s fucking mesmerised. It’s a far cry from the back-seat fumbles and quick pokes in study rooms that you’re used to. You’re definitely not going to be able to go back to that now.

Desperate for Eddie to touch more of you, you continue his education.

“Next, I want you to find my clitoris. Do you think you can do that?”

You let go of his fingers and settle back onto the sofa on your elbows, processing Eddie’s shocked and nervous expression as he glances up to your face.

“You, uh, want me to do this by myself?”

“Yes, I trust you. If it hurts, or you’re way off, I promise I’ll help. But I think it would be good for you to try. Also, I want to see if you can work out when you’ve got it without me having to tell you.”

His brow furrows very slightly at this; he doesn’t seem convinced that this is possible, but you’re in front of him, spread and waiting, so who is he to question it. He moves his wet fingertips slowly through your folds, gliding easily, studying his path but also flicking his eyes up to your face episodically. You close your eyes and hum, enjoying the sensation. 

As he moves further up you can feel a growing uncertainty in his movements, but just as you think he’s about to give up or ask for help, one of his calloused fingertips glances the side of your clit, causing you to inhale sharply as your eyes spring open.

He freezes, terrified he’s done something wrong or hurt you, but you smile down at him and reassure him,

“That’s so close, you’re almost there.”

He smiles, confidence buoyed, and you notice he’s watching your face now as he moves his fingers experimentally. One sideways movement has a rough fingertip connecting perfectly with your sensitive nub, and you let out an abrupt whine.

Eddie presses a little harder, testing, his mouth still open and the tip of his tongue teasing his front teeth.

You moan, loudly, and your head tips back and connects with the cushions of the sofa.

Boldly, Eddie begins to move his fingers, up and down to start with, which makes you hum with contentment. But when, unbidden, he then starts to draw tiny circles around his newly-discovered treasure, your whines turn to full-on moans.

“Is this it? Am I getting it, Princess?”

You glance down at him again, at that beautiful face now adorned with a smirk that seems to be a mix of experimentation and new-found cockiness. Breathlessly, but smiling, you manage, 

“Yeah, you’re definitely getting it.”

And you let out another long moan as he continues to trace those tiny patterns. You could definitely lose it from this alone, but you want to teach him a little more.

“I want you to do something else as well. Do you remember where my vagina is?”

“Uh, I think so.”

Eddie swallows, as he moves his other hand up towards your centre. He pauses, and, looking from your face to your cunt again, he begins to slowly push one fingertip between your wet folds.

You wince as you feel a slight discomfort, and offer, helpfully, 

“Try going a little lower.”

“Oh, okay, sorry, I—”

“Don’t worry, Eddie, nobody gets it on their first tr— ah!” 

He’s definitely getting it.

You want to reassure him even more, tell him that this is the best you’ve ever felt when anyone’s touched you, but the words dissolve as his index finger easily breaches your sopping hole.

You sigh and close your eyes, enjoying the subtle stretch and finally having some part of him inside of you. But Eddie’s stilled, and you realise he needs more guidance. 

“You can go in further, if you want?”

That’s seemingly all the encouragement he needs, as he pushes further, all the way to his ringed knuckle, and you feel the knobbled metal against your lips. He closes his eyes and begins babbling,

“Oh, g-god, you feel so good. You’re like silk, like velvet. You’re so fucking warm, and so goddamn wet, Jeezus!”

You allow you both to enjoy the moment, before deciding to put your musician’s fingers theory to the test.

“Can I give you some more instructions, Eddie?”

He looks up at you, blinking, seeming to come back to himself.

“Yes! Tell me what you want. Please tell me what to do to make you feel good. I’ll do it, I’ll do all of it.”

Oh, this is gonna be fun…

“Okay, add another fing— Oh fuck, that’s it! Shit, that feels so nice.”

Your hips buck forwards as Eddie slides his middle finger in to join the first, pushing them deep and coating his rings in your abundant slick. He lets out a shuddering hum as your walls clench gently around him and you gasp at the sense of increasing fullness.

“Okay, keep your hand so your palm is upwards. That’s it, I know it’s a little uncomfortable but I promise it’s worth it. Now curl your fingers, like you’re beckoning me. Just gently, not too fa-ah— Oh fuck!”

Eddie’s deft fingertips brush that most sensitive spot inside of you, and your legs tense as your back arches off the sofa. You reach down to grab his wrist. You chuckle, smiling down at him. 

“Okay, stop, just for a moment, otherwise I’m not gonna be able to speak. Congratulations, you just found my g-spot.”

“I— I did?”

He grins, huffing out a breath, and experimentally curls his fingers again, his eyes glued to your face.

“Yes! Fuck, yes!” is all you can manage, as your hands move to grip the sofa cushions.

Eddie pauses for a brief moment, glancing down to look at your sodden core, and you take the opportunity to give him one final instruction.

“If you keep doing what you were doing to my clit at the same time, you’re gonna make me cum. Do you wanna do that?”

Eddie’s voice drops almost to a growl as he splutters, the words tumbling out in a rush,

“Oh fuck yes, Princess. Please let me do that!”

He adjusts his position, shuffling closer to you, his eyes scanning between your face and your cunt. You notice the substantial bulge in his pants and how he’s occasionally shifting his hips, bucking them up into the seam of his sinfully tight jeans.

“So… I just keep doing this, and… this?”

He pumps his fingers slowly in and out of you, curling them as his rings touch your soaking lips, and continues to draw tiny circles around your clit. His wide eyes meet yours, his level of concentration evident. You nod, smiling, and relax back onto the sofa. You lose yourself in the sensations, enjoying Eddie’s ministrations and letting yourself drift away on a sea of warmth and pleasure.

Before long a familiar pressure builds in your abdomen. You let out a loud sigh and your hips buck forward again of their own accord. You hear Eddie’s breath become louder and more ragged, and his movements speed up, his fingers pumping deeper and the pressure he’s placing on your clit increasing just a fraction. It’s enough to start sparks flying along your nerves and have your back arching and your thighs trembling.

You start groaning, almost letting go before you realise you should probably give Eddie some warning.

“Shit, I’m so close. Don’t stop, dontfuckingstop, ohshitohshitohshii—”

The universe stops. Time ceases to exist. Your vision goes black before being filled with a million tiny stars, and a supernova of euphoria erupts from your core and spreads throughout your entire body. You think you hear yourself moaning, possibly Eddie as well, but the sounds seem so far away. 

You don’t notice that you’ve arched your back even further until you regain some sense of reality and realise the top of your head is now against the back of the sofa. Gradually, feeling comes back into the rest of your body, a bone-deep warmth suffusing you as your contorted limbs gradually return to their usual positions.

Your vision finally comes back into focus, and you glance down to see Eddie staring at you, wide-mouthed and somewhat stunned. Propping yourself up on the heels of your hands, you grin as you comment, voice syrupy and possibly a little slurred,

“Fuck, Eddie, you’re good at that. Screw the B minus, you definitely deserve an A plus!”

He gives you a lopsided grin, one dimple popping, and chuckles lightly as, watching your centre, he begins to slowly withdraw himself from you. Your body seems to have other ideas, as your walls clench around his fingers and a small aftershock makes you tremble. It definitely doesn’t want to let him go.

He pauses as he examines his soaked digits, moving them apart and studying your slick as it covers his palm and runs over his knuckles. You think you spot a minuscule drop of his jaw as his hand twitches, but then he stops himself. You’re slightly nervous that you may have misread his movements, but you decide to be bold anyway.

“Do you wanna taste me?”

His eyes snap to yours. They’re wide, like a kid that’s been caught trying to steal cookies. Sitting up a little, you gently take hold of his wrist and move his hand closer to his mouth, giving him permission. His eyes don’t leave yours as he drops his jaw, lolls out his tongue and pushes his sodden fingers into his mouth. Only when his lips reach his knuckles does his gaze falter. His eyes flicker closed and he hums loudly, licking and sucking, cleaning up every speck. He eventually pulls them out, mumbling low,

“Christ, you taste so good.”

You heat at the praise; no one’s ever told you that before. Feeling bold again, you continue,

“You wanna taste me properly one day? Put your mouth on me? I gotta admit I’m keen to see what else you can do with that tongue…”

Eddie gulps audibly as he shuffles forwards and grabs hold of your knees, looking like he’s kneeling at an altar. The altar of you.

“Oh holy shit, please let me do that. God, I wanna get my tongue inside you so bad.”

He’s practically drooling, and the sight of him literally on his knees and begging to taste your cunt has you clenching all over again. But as much as you want that (and you really, really want that), there’s now an aching need inside you that only something larger can satisfy. If Eddie’s willing to give it to you. Keen to bookmark this for another time, you proffer,

“Whaddaya say we make that a whole lesson all to itself?”

He grins at you, seemingly pleased with this proposal.

Eddie rests back on his heels and places his hands in his lap. He’s not ushering you to leave, which is good, but he seems a little unsure of himself. Conscious of how exposed you still are, you start to straighten yourself up, lowering your skirt and checking your hair in case the sofa cushions have done a number on it. 

You have no idea what the protocol is for this situation. You’re aware that there’s likely an issue in his pants that could use some attention, but you’re not sure how to broach it. You know what you’d like to do, but are suddenly nervous and can’t look at him, and start fiddling with the hem of your skirt. He seems to be having the same dilemma, as he asks,

“So, what do we do now?”

He could be expecting a suggestion like watching a movie, or ordering pizza. But you decide to ask for what you want, whilst also giving him an out just in case this is too sudden. You fiddle with your hem again and catch his gaze as you blather,

“Well, I know we’ve kinda talked about this before, maybe not as much as we could have. But I, uh— I’d really like to, um, have you inside of me. If you wanted to. An— and it doesn’t actually have to be now, or even soon. We can totally go at your pace, and I realise I’m asking to be your first, but—”

He cuts you off with a single syllable. 

“Yes.” 

It’s the shortest sentence you’ve ever heard him utter. And in this moment it’s the most beautiful. His face is almost blank, completely serious with an edge of hopefulness etched in his brows. Your chest fills with pride and gratitude. He really does trust you enough to want to do this with you. But what happens next is a surprise. 

“Umm… would now be okay?”

You grin broadly. 

“Uh, no, not at all. Shall we, um… take this to your bedroom?”

He smiles softly before breaking out into a wide but bashful grin.

He stands and, offering his hands, helps you to get up. Eddie makes sure you’re okay to move and, at a pace you can cope with on your shaky legs, gently leads you across the trailer and down the narrow corridor to his bedroom, repeatedly looking at you with an incredulously dopey look.

He pauses with his palm against the door. Looking at you ruefully through his lashes, he warns you, quietly,

“Just so you know, it’s a mess in here.”

You reassure him,

“I don’t mind. Frankly, so long as you’re not storing a rotting corpse or running a meth lab, I couldn’t care less.”

He swings the door open and leads you inside. You step through and take a brief moment to glance around the room, noticing the posters on the walls, piles of clothes, D&D paraphernalia and various bits of band equipment. It’s almost exactly as you’d pictured it. 

Standing in the middle of the carpet, he turns to face you, holding one of your hands in his and fiddling with your fingers. His hesitancy is adorable.

“Soooo… What do we do first?”

You take both of his hands in yours, squeezing them lightly, and through a soft smile you say airily,

“Well, it’s usually customary to do a little kissing. I know you know how to do that, because…”

Your cheeks heat as you remember your library lesson. Eddie’s throat bobs as he swallows, and his gaze flits around your face, settling on your lips as he tries, and fails, to get his breathing under control. 

You gently place his hands at your waist and then loop your arms around his neck, finally getting to sink your fingers into his long, luscious locks. They’re much softer than you thought they’d be, and you feel him tremble as you lightly drag your fingertips across his scalp.

You step towards him and slowly lean in, moving your face closer to his, pulling Eddie ever so slightly to indicate that he should do the same. There’s the briefest of pauses as your lips hover, your breaths mingling, before you both close the minuscule gap.

It’s a little uncoordinated, you two never having done this standing up before, but none of that matters as your mouths connect. Eddie’s lips are soft and pillowy, and the feeling of his hands on your waist, his mouth against yours and that familiar faint vanilla scent completely invade your senses. He has a hint of a five o’clock shadow, and you feel his scruff scratch softly against the sensitive skin of your face. You know it’s going to leave you red and puffy, and you relish being able to take a reminder of this away with you. 

It’s chaste yet passionate as your lips meld and release and find a rhythm. You muss his hair and he hums, and the ache between your legs grows vivid again. You press your front against his, and he breaks your kiss with a soft,

“Oh!”

Wow, he really does want this. A whole lot. You nudge against him again, relishing the firmness you can feel in the front of his jeans. The seam of his zipper only adds to the sensation, and you feel his obvious and substantial erection swell and kick towards you through the stiff fabric. You’ve never wanted anything more in your entire life, but for Eddie’s sake you’re determined to take it slow.

Okay, maybe not that slow. You thumb at the hem of his shirt, and with what you hope is a cute pout, ask,

“Can we take this off?”

He grins, dimples popping adorably, and takes half a step back. You think your own smile might rival his as you grasp the bottom of his shirt and peel it up and over his head. Not teasing, not rushing, the speed is just right, and you bite your lip when his arms lift and his hair fluffs, and you drop the garment to the floor.

You’ve seen him shirtless before, but you don’t think you’ll ever get used to the way it affects you. Eddie catches you staring, and for a brief moment you worry that he’s self conscious, or nervous of your opinion of his physicality. But instead, in a cheeky show of burgeoning confidence, that you hope is somewhat down to you, he murmurs,

“Do you… like what you see, Princess?”

Your eyes continue to scan his chest as you hum in approval.

“Oh yes, definitely…”

You bring one of your hands up and run the tips of your fingers over the tattoos on his pec. Eddie shivers and inhales a shaky breath, and then whines a little as you flatten your hand over the muscle.

Your other hand traces up his waist and abs, making him stutter out a bashful giggle as you hit a ticklish spot, until both hands come to rest on the upper part of his chest, feeling it rise and fall beneath your palms. You look over his torso, his shoulders and throat, before your gaze flicks over his lips and reaches his eyes again.

“I meant what I said before, you know. You’re really pretty. Has anyone else ever told you that?”

“Uh, nope. No, they haven’t. But from you, I believe it.”

You smile softly at him, and run your hands over his collarbones and down the sides of his pecs. Experimentally, you allow the pads of your thumbs to gently skim his nipples. He hisses in a breath, and his responsiveness increases the throb in your core.

You let your hands travel lower, and they come to rest at his belt line. You can’t help but salivate at what you know is beneath as you work his belt buckle open, and then his button. You look up and smile at him as you pull gently on his zipper, lowering it, and he smiles back, shaking his head almost imperceptibly as if he can’t quite believe this is happening. 

You hook your thumbs over his waistband and start to tug. He helps, easing the fabric over the soft swell of his ass as you pull his jeans down until you’re crouching on the floor before him. He sighs as his member is released from its denim confines, tenting obnoxiously in his briefs, and you miss the fond smile he gives you, accompanied by another imperceptible head shake, as you concentrate on freeing his feet.

Once he’s standing in just his boxers, you rise and sit on the edge of his bed, gently pulling on his hands and guiding him to sit next to you. You swivel to face each other, fingers still linked. The two of you somehow manage to make some of the most innocent of gestures seem the most intimate, and there’s a peculiar moment of bashfulness between you. You huff through your noses, chuckling, and you can see Eddie’s cheeks have pinkened again as he looks down at your joined hands, fingers intertwined.

Finally, his gaze meets yours again, and his face is suddenly serious. His eyes flit to your lips, and you take this as your cue to lean forward.

Your noses bump, and initially neither of you are sure which way to turn your head. It’s awkward and sweet and adorable, but when your lips finally connect all of that melts away. You soon both get into your stride, and it’s even hotter than it was in the library. You don’t have to worry about noise, or getting caught, and there’s no time limit - this time you can do this for as long as you want, and the thought of it fills you with a warm sensation that you can’t quite identify.

Eddie’s hand comes up to cup your cheek, and as you run the tip of your tongue along his bottom lip his mouth opens instantly, allowing you access to him and he to you. Without hesitation he plunges his tongue into your mouth, and deftly swirls it around your own, moaning as he moves his hand to grasp the back of your head, just like he did in the library. It’s messy and hot, and with no fear of being discovered you're both much more vocal, sighing and moaning as you move against one another. Eddie’s free hand comes to rest gently on your waist, but you can tell he’s tense and holding back. You don’t want him, or you, to hold back anymore. 

You break the kiss and look at him. His eyes are glassy and unfocused, and his lips are parted, reddened and glossy with your shared spit. In one swift motion you twist, lift one leg, and position yourself astride Eddie’s thighs. Then, to his complete surprise, you teasingly fiddle with your hem for a moment before lifting your shirt up and over your head, leaving you in just your bra. You chose it especially, the delicate lace cups leaving your nipples visible through the sheer fabric.

Eddie’s eyes widen and his jaw goes slack and he’s just… staring, like he’s seeing colour for the first time. You allow him to look at you for a little while, and his awestruck, hungry gaze is almost as effective as his touch for increasing the arousal at your core. You run your hands down his arms until you reach his wrists, which you lift gently, bringing his hands towards your chest. Eddie realises what’s about to happen, and quietly mutters,

“Oh, fuck…”

You guide his hands and his palms are hot as you place them over your flesh, and the heat between your bodies increases as Eddie huffs out an open-mouthed,

“Haaaaaaah.”

His eyes are fixed on your breasts, and he seems momentarily frozen in place. He swallows again, but before you can offer words of encouragement his eyes flick up to yours, an almost pleading look on his face. You nod carefully, slowly, hoping to convey your meaning: go ahead.

You’re successful, and you moan with delight as Eddie’s gaze drops again and he begins to squeeze and mould your heaving bosom like he wants to memorise every curve, every feature. He pushes them together slightly, then up, then apart, all the while massaging them gently with his palms and fingertips. At one point he accidentally grazes your slowly hardening nipples, and it causes both of you to let out startled whines.

He’s humming involuntarily, and more than once you feel his hips roll upwards, positioning the substantial tent in his boxers closer to where you need him. You drift your eyes up towards his pillows as you ask,

“Shall we… get a little more comfortable?”

His nod is swift and it bounces his curls as he immediately begins to shift position. You stand as he shuffles to the centre of his bed and flops down, his hair splaying out over his pillow and his hands clutching mindlessly at the comforter, perhaps to ground himself.

You manoeuvre so your thighs are astride his, your naked cunt not quite touching him and shielded only by the drape of your skirt. You wonder whether Eddie might be catching the scent of your arousal. He’s staring at your chest again, and you surmise he’s got a better view now, with more space between you and the light from the window illuminating you from the side.

His eyes rove your form, and you can’t wait to see what happens when he views a real pair of actual tits for the first time. Locking your gaze on his face, you reach behind you and unfasten your bra. The small jolt as you undo the clasp makes Eddie jump slightly, and his eyes flash up to your face, his eyes saying, is this really happening?

You cover yourself with one arm and slowly slip the straps of your bra off your shoulders before performing a dramatic reveal, dropping the lace to your lap and then sweeping the flimsy garment off the bed and onto the floor.

Eddie’s eyes widen to the point where you think they might leave his skull, and his jaw drops and retracts a couple of times. A strangled sort of noise leaves his throat, and it sounds a little like he’s being gently choked. You check in with him.

“Eddie? Are you okay? Are you… still breathing?”

He inhales, loudly. Nope, he’d definitely stopped breathing. His arms lift a little and his hands hover over the bedsheets. His eyes haven’t left your chest, and you let him know that whatever he wants to do, you’re okay with.

“You can touch them, if you want?”

Eddie huffs out a long exhale, and the warmth of his breath fanning over your sensitive skin brings your nipples to hardened peaks. His fingertips tentatively brush at the sides of your breasts as his thumbs trace the undersides. It’s like he’s examining a precious artifact, and it’s the most reverence anyone’s ever shown your tits, or any part of you. You hear yourself gasp as your centre spasms.

This gives Eddie a little confidence, and he moves to cup your flesh in his hands, his fingers squeezing lightly. This time though, he’s looking at your face, assessing your reaction, seeing how he’s doing. You very much appreciate that he’s ensuring he’s not hurting you, or making an ass of himself, but it’s actually quite the opposite. You let out a tiny moan, and gift him with a louder one when the pads of his thumbs graze your peaked nipples. He does it again, with more intent. The combination of the roughness and heat of his skin feels wonderful.

Unbidden, he brings his forefingers and thumbs together on one side, and pinches lightly. Your abrupt groan surprises both of you, but in a delightful way. He does it again, to both nipples this time, and you groan again as your belly clenches and you involuntarily roll your hips over his thighs, the heat in your core intensifying. 

You let him play for a while, enjoying how he moans and swallows and moulds your flesh. His hands feel so good you’re reluctant to pull them away, but eventually you do, softly placing his arms beside him on the bed as you murmur,

“It’s my turn to touch you now.”

His nervous expression quickly dissipates as you gently lay your hands onto his chest. He’s so beautiful, like an alabaster statue, and he’s warm and responsive to your touch. You run your hands lightly all over his torso, tracing the planes, dips and curves of his musculature, and the designs of his tattoos. It’s simple, almost reverential, though the increased heat in your centre and the breaths stuttering beneath the pretty pink bloom flushing over Eddie’s skin suggest your touch is anything but holy.

There’s something you’ve been wanting to investigate for what feels like a very long time, and you’re delighted that you’ve finally got the opportunity. You run your palms over Eddie’s chest again, but this time allowing your fingertips to skim over his nipples. 

He twitches beneath you, almost flinching at the sensation, but from the gasp he inhales and holds you don’t think this was from discomfort. You repeat the action. His flesh feels soft and velvety, and they’re smaller than yours, but seemingly just as sensitive, and you hear him whimper as they peak beneath your touch. You had no idea a guy’s nipples could react like this, your previous partners never giving them any consideration or allowing you to explore like this. Eddie’s stuttering breaths and the way he’s trembling make you think they were missing out on something really special.

You draw tiny circles around each nipple with the pads of your forefingers, and you feel the bedsheets shift under you as Eddie grips them in his fists. Bravely, you experiment, and you move your thumbs to join your fingers, Eddie’s flesh between them. With the lightest amount of pressure you pinch, just a little, and release quickly.

Something guttural leaves Eddie’s chest, and his breath comes out in a rush. Buoyed by this, you squeeze again, with more pressure and for longer, and this time Eddie’s groan is accompanied by an upwards buck of his hips into the empty air in front of yours.

This is new, and you like it very much. From the deepening pink tinge appearing across Eddie’s cheeks and torso, you think he’s liking it too. You squeeze once more, and release. Leaning forwards and sticking out your tongue, you lick at one of Eddie’s peaked buds before delicately clamping down with your teeth and sucking gently, moaning quietly at the sensation of his delicate flesh in your mouth.

Above you, Eddie splutters,

“Shit! Oh shit! Hnnn!”

Oh yeah, those other guys were definitely missing out.

You decide it’s time for him to experience yours up close too. You lean forwards, bracing your arms either side of his head, the swell of your tits now hovering above his face. His gaze flicks between them a few times before flashing up to yours. You give him a soft smile and nod your head, and he hums as he slides his hands up over your waist, up your sides and over the warm flesh again. 

He moulds them in his hands, making you moan, and to make it all the more obvious what you want him to do you shift so one of your nipples is positioned directly above his mouth. He takes the hint and flicks out his tongue, just grazing your peaked bud at first before gaining in confidence and taking it fully into his mouth, sucking gently at first and then flicking his tongue over it.

You feel a jolt head from your nipple up to your jaw that ignites the entire side of your face with static electricity as another journeys to your core. You let out an involuntary groan, and, buoyed by this, Eddie suckles harder, simultaneously running his thumb over your other nipple. You moan again, your hips rolling over his thighs in search of friction. Shifting beneath you, he pops off one breast and latches on to the other, giving it equal attention and, daringly, pinching the first between his fingers. It’s intense, and glorious, and that electric spark is back, heading directly between your thighs. This is definitely something that’s never happened before.

He unlatches, and you’re a gasping, breathy mess as you move down to kiss him. He lunges up a few centimetres to meet you, and as you deepen the kiss your nipples brush against his chest. He whimpers, and grabs the back of your neck with one hand and between your shoulder blades with the other, pulling you down so your chests meet. You drop your elbows down onto the mattress to get closer to him, and rake your hands through his hair, grasping it and pulling at the roots gently as your hands ball into fists.

There’s no more reverence or holding back now, and your kiss is messy, wet and noisy as Eddie holds you to him, squeezing you together and shoving his tongue seemingly as far down your throat as he can. Your tits are squashed between you, and the pressure of his heated chest against yours is divine. It’s one of the hottest things you’ve ever done, and you can’t quite believe you’re having this effect on each other. You feel the stiff length of him pressing into your abdomen, and he feels so, so ready for this.

You hum as you kiss him for a while longer, feeling his length kick up between you and the dampness between your legs increase. You break the kiss and sit up, smirking at Eddie’s blissed out face and reddened, kiss-bitten lips. Watching him watch you, you open the side fastening of your skirt and peel it off, discarding it to one side, leaving you fully bare on top of him. His face is almost unreadable, such a mixture of emotions passing over it, but you think he might be a combination of reverent, horny and amazed.

You move yourself further up his thighs, finally settling your hips flush across his, settling down close to the substantial wet patch that’s been made by his leaking tip. Your naked centre sticks to the damp fabric as you drag it across his boxer-covered crotch. Ordinarily you’d be embarrassed at making a mess, but something tells you Eddie won’t care.

You were right. There’s no resistance from him, and he groans beneath you as you feel his hefty bulge press against your folds. His hands grip the bedsheets again as he mumbles out in a low breath,

“Oh my god, you’re so fuckin’ beautiful.”

His tone and his words only get you wetter, and you can’t help but roll your hips slightly over him, earning you another groan.

You don’t want to waste your slick on this fabric, and rise up onto your knees. With a playful snap of his waistband, you urge,

“Take these off.”

Eddie shuffles beneath you as quickly as he’s able, There’s the rustle of cotton and you look down in time to witness the slap of his hard member against his stomach. His cock’s flushed a deep pink, almost magenta, is more swollen than you’ve ever seen it, and is already drenched and glistening with precum. It smears across his happy trail as he shifts until, moments later, he’s naked beneath you. 

Still kneeling up, your cunt hovers over his bare form. His eyes scan your whole body, from your eyes to your tits, all over your torso, the soft hair covering your cunt, back up to your eyes again. Bravely, you think, he places his hands on your thighs, and you feel them tremble a little as he rubs and strokes gently. 

Slowly, you lower your hips. You feel your pubic hair brush first, before your warm lips make contact with his shaft and your most personal areas touch for the first time.

Eddie’s brows furrow as the slick warmth of you settles onto him, and his abs tense as he breathes out, low,

“Oh, shiiiiit.”

You’re both still for a beat before you brace yourself, palms placed flat on his chest, and begin to rock your hips, just gently, getting you both used to the sensation of having him pressed against your folds. His cock is hard, yet warm and soft, and Eddie huffs out heated breaths through his nose as you slide yourself along him. His hips start to subtly cant beneath you. By the tense look on his face you think it might be involuntary, that he’s holding himself back. 

You move for a little while before one particularly exquisite movement allows his cock to slip between your folds, and his swollen tip unexpectedly nudges your clit. You gasp and curl in on yourself, involuntarily closing your eyes and clenching your fingers, letting out a soft whine. 

Below you, Eddie makes a strangled hnnng sound before his breath hitches and he inhales quickly, his grip on your thighs tightening. 

Worried there’s something wrong, your eyes flash open. You’re relieved to see Eddie seems to be okay, though his eyes are blown even darker and his jaw is softly parted. You glance down at your hands on his chest, and notice a collection of angry-looking red lines where your nails have dug into his flesh. Horrified, you stammer,

“Oh god, I’m so sorry!”

Echoing your words from your second lesson, he smirks, his tongue flicking out to wet his bottom lip, and he bounces his eyebrows as he admits,

“It’s okay, I kinda liked it.”

Smiling, you lift your hands to his pecs and lightly drag the nails of your pointer fingers further down his chest and ribs, down to his abs. Eddie moans again, and his hips roll upwards, his cockhead nudging your clit with more pressure and causing you to whine along with him.

Fuck, this feels so good, and he’s not even inside of you yet…

You don’t know how Eddie’s doing, but you can’t take much more of this. Feeling that it’s definitely time for his final lesson, you sit up, resting your palms gently on his belly. You’re feeling really good, but also nervous, which you know makes you verbose, and you can’t help but babble out too many options. 

“Okay, so, I’m more than happy for us to go all the way right now. But if that’s not something you want I’m obviously totally fine with that too. But… Shit. I guess I���m asking, do you still wanna… I mean, how far do you wanna go, really, with me?”

Eddie’s eyes search yours earnestly, and the gentleness of his reply instantly soothes your frayed nerves.

“I want it, Princess. I want to do it… all. With you.”

You smile warmly down at him. It’s the best response you could’ve had. He swallows before gesturing to his nightstand.

“Should I, uh… Should we…?”

You realise he’s asking if he should get a condom, and you’re grateful for his thoughtfulness. But you’ve been considering this, and you have an alternative suggestion. 

“Well… I’m on birth control for a period thing, and I'm pretty sure I’m clean because I’ve never not used a condom. I know you’re clean because, well, y’know. So… if you’re okay with it, we could, uh, do it without?”

He’s looking up at you, wide-eyed and mouth agape. All he can manage is a tiny, squeaked,

“Holy f—. P— please.”

Again, it’s the perfect reply. You’re still slightly incredulous that he’s trusting you to be his first, but you’re also excited to take on such a responsibility. You calm your breathing before kneeling up a little, glancing down and reaching between your legs to take ahold of him. You already knew he has the most exquisite cock you’ve ever encountered, and it somehow looks even more beautiful right now. You grasp him reverently, angling him upwards and dragging him through your folds to gather more of your slick. 

He’s hot and solid in your hand, and flashbacks of everything you’ve done so far flood your mind. Touching yourself as he watched, taking him into your mouth, getting each other off over the phone, your first kiss... It‘s all combined to lead you to this exquisite moment. 

Eddie sighs lightly and lets out a nervous hum, and then both of you hold your breath. You lower yourself a tiny amount, and his tip pushes in a little further as you notch him between your folds. He gasps. You lean over him, and stabilise yourself with your hands either side of his head.

“You ready?”

Eddie’s voice wobbles as he confirms,

“Fuck, yes, Princess. Please f-fuck me.” 

You take a steadying breath, and, keeping your eyes fixed on his, you begin to lower further. His fat head breaches you, and you bite your lip as you feel the stretch of him for the first time. Slowly, so slowly, you slide down, inch by delicious inch. You’re so wet he glides into you easily, although the size of him is something you’ll need to get used to. You relish the sensation of him stretching out your walls as they slowly envelop him.

You pause, and Eddie mumbles your name, barely audible, the hot huff of air filling what little space there is between you. It sounds like a prayer, or perhaps a spell. There’s a moment of silence and absolute stillness, yet it’s weighted, the implications heavy in the humid space between you. You both know how much this means, how things will never be as they were, especially for Eddie. As you slide lower, letting him fill you, his jaw drops further, and his grip on your thighs grows stronger. You sink down until he’s plunged completely inside your warmth, and immerse yourself in the way you’re accommodating him. Your hips finally connect with his, and as you seat him fully inside you already feel him nudging against that spot that he so deftly located earlier. You mumble out a stilted,

“Oh, god.”

It’s followed by a long, deep sigh from Eddie as he mutters,

“Ohfuckohfuckohfuck— Ooooooooh fuuuuuuuuuuuuuccckkk!”

He’s closed his eyes, and you can feel the tips of his fingers digging into the plush of your thighs. You enjoy the moment, savouring how he looks, how he feels. His hair splays out around him on his pillow like a chestnut halo, and his head is tilted back, exposing his broad, thick throat. His eyes flash open again and fix on yours; wide, dark mahogany pools that are somehow simultaneously a million miles away and boring into your very soul. His mouth hangs open in awe, shallow, trembling breaths emanating from his throat. He looks like an angel. 

He strokes your thighs for a moment before his large hands move to settle lightly on your hips. Placing your hands over the backs of his, you stay seated, tilting your hips ever so slightly to push down even deeper onto him. He practically growls,

“Fuck, Princess. You feel so fucking good.”

The growling nature of his voice sends an electric heat straight to your core, and the stretch you feel quickly morphs into a fiery need. You gaze into Eddie’s chocolate orbs as you warn him, 

“I’m gonna move now, okay?”

He swallows in preparation, and you brace your hands on his lower ribs. You tilt your hips, rolling them. It angles him differently inside you, his swollen head hitting harder exactly where you need it. It also brushes your clit against the dark, glossy hair at his base, and your walls spasm as a low moan leaves your chest and you feel Eddie’s cock kick up in response. He mumbles, voice low and lasciviously gravelly,

“Do that again.”

So you do, again and again. You find a rhythm, slow but satisfying as you rock back and forth. Eddie’s jaw drops open again and his lips form a soft ‘o’ as you move above him.

It occurs to you that everything feels subtly different. Of course, you’ve never been treated with such care before, never been brought to a point of such arousal, plus you’ve never wanted anyone as much as you want Eddie in this moment. But you swear you can feel the flared edge of his cockhead as it drags against your walls, and every ridge and vein as you move atop him. You’d never previously considered how a lack of barrier might affect things, it always being a hard boundary for you, despite whining and cajoling from previous partners. You’d assumed it was mostly a ‘guy thing’, and you had no idea how it could affect your pleasure. But it’s abundantly obvious now. 

Eddie's lips are pursed, and his grip on your thighs intensifies again as you watch the muscles of his abdomen subtly tense. Perhaps it’s time he became a bit more… involved. You’re sure he can take it, and you know he won’t hurt you.

“You can move too, Eddie. Just do what feels good.”

He‘s tentative at first, tilting his pelvis subtly and pushing up into you with such care, as if he might hurt you, or something might break. It’s incredible, the small movements feel so good, and somehow more intimate and passionate than anything you’ve done with anyone else. You reward him with soft sighs and moans in time with his movements.

Gaining confidence, he begins to move faster, pulling out further and thrusting back in with more vigour. When you join him, moving and rolling your pelvis with larger movements in time with his, your breath coming out in increasingly loud rhythmic gasps and moans, his breathing quickens, his whole body flushes, and you can't help but close your eyes and drop your head back in ecstasy until Eddie’s hands clamp onto your hips and—

“Ohmygod, ooohmyGOD.”

He’s suddenly still.

You open your eyes to check in on him, and see Eddie’s screwed up face, his eyes and mouth twisted shut, his cheeks even redder than before.

“Eddie? Are you okay?”

He babbles, quickly,

“Don’t move Princess, pleasejustdontfuckinmove. This is fuckin’ amazing and I don’t wanna ruin it!”

You want to reassure him that everything he’s doing is perfect.

“I’m close too. It doesn't matter how long this lasts, just that we both enjoy it. And I’m really, really enjoying it. Please, keep moving, Eddie. For me?"

From his beautifully wide eyes and flushed face, this definitely isn’t going to last very much longer, but you mean it, you don’t care. You’re still puffy and sensitive from his earlier ministrations, and you know it won’t be long before you fall apart all over him. You both begin to move again, quickly rebuilding a rhythm. The soft thrusts of his hips keep perfect time with the subtle rolls of yours, the lewd sounds of your mingling juices only adding to your mutual enjoyment. 

Eddie lets out little uhs and ahs in time with your movements and you adore that you’re having such an effect on him. After a particularly deep thrust followed by a vociferous grunt, he grits out, through clenched teeth,

“Does it— Christ— Does it always feel this good?”

You reply, truthfully,

“Honestly? It’s never been this good.”

He stutters out a high-pitched chuckle as he confirms,

“Holy shit, I’m in fucking heaven!”

You lunge forwards to kiss him again, brushing your nipples against his chest as you slip your tongue between his eager lips. Once again Eddie’s hand grips the back of your head and he moans loudly as his tongue plunges into your mouth. You feel the warmth of a broad palm against your lower back as he pulls you flush with his chest. The shift in position arches your back, subtly changing the angle and spreading your centre even further. 

All too soon, Eddie’s thrusts become faster and less controlled, and you match his pace, rolling your hips and pushing down onto him with increased vigour. You break apart and move up just enough so he’s in focus, wanting to see him at this perfect moment. His eyes are glazed and seem to only be half-focussing on yours, and there's a tell-tale furrow in his brow. You wonder aloud,

“You gonna cum? I wanna feel you. Let go, please.”

His hips seem to take on a life of their own now he’s not holding back. His thrusts become more fervent, and his swollen member pummels that spot inside you. You feel his pelvis slam against your clit with every stroke, and your own release careens towards you, spots of light beginning to appear in your vision and the warmth in your core reaching a heated crescendo.

With a deep, rumbling groan, easily the sexiest sound you’ve ever heard, his final thrust pushes him even deeper and his cock begins to pulse inside you. You’ve never felt anyone’s release before, and the divine sensation makes you jam your hips down, triggering your own release, and you throw your head back in ecstasy, emitting a disjointed high-pitched whine. There's more low moans from Eddie as you clench around his still-pulsing member, and you barely register the bruising grip as he digs his fingertips into your hips. 

Eventually your movements still and, spent, you pitch forward on failing arms and collapse onto his chest, breathing heavily into the crook of his neck. After a moment he wraps his arms around you, holding you close and nuzzling into your hairline.

There’s a minute of stillness, and you revel in the post-orgasmic haze. Your cunt spasms with aftershocks, eliciting contented hums from deep within Eddie’s chest. You’re warm, satisfied and feel cosy and safe with his arms wrapped around you, and you wonder whether he’s feeling the same. You hum into his skin as he traces one hand over your shoulders and back. It’s bliss.

Eventually, Eddie chuckles lightly as he mutters,

“Fuck, Princess. That was… I, um… Fuck.”

He snorts a truncated laugh, his Adam’s apple bobbing and his curls bouncing on the pillow as his head shifts to look at you. All you can manage is a dopey grin as you reply,

“Yeah. Fuck.”

You chuckle in unison, shifting until your noses touch, both tilting your chins until your lips connect in a series of soft pecks.

You’re a little nervous to ask, but something in you has to know.

“How did it feel? Fucking for the first time?”

“Shit, it was goddamn heaven, I swear! Although technically, I think you did most of the actual fucking.”

“Oh no, you did absolutely your fair share! But we can change that, if you’d like. Are you up for doing most of the fucking another time?”

Eddie’s eyebrows snap up his forehead and he looks straight at you with surprise, and just a little disbelief. 

“You, uh, want there to be a next time…?”

You roll your lips together and consider your words carefully before replying. He really has no idea how good this was for you, or that he’s already so much better than literally every guy you’ve ever slept with. But you don’t want to stroke his ego too much, at least, not just yet. You hum and fake a look of disinterest.

“Well, I guess I could make time in my schedule, to, y’know, give you a few more lessons. Purely for your benefit, of course.”

His jaw drops in faux shock.

“Hey, I know I’m not exactly an expert, but if I’m reading this right you seemed to enjoy yourself.”

You can’t keep a straight face and burst into giggles, and Eddie follows you, his fingers snaking to your waist and easily finding your ticklish spots. You huff and wriggle, but make no real attempt to disengage yourself from his grasp. If anything, you end up more entangled, and from the contented sounds that emanate from you both, it’s not something either of you mind.

You lay together for a few moments, enjoying the peace and your shared heat. But eventually your hips start to ache, and with a groan of discomfort, and more than a little reluctance, you slowly start to move. His mostly-soft cock slips out easily, and as you roll off of him you feel your combined juices run out of you, dribbling over his abdomen and coating the inside of your thighs.

You sigh as you wriggle yourself into the crook of his arm, and lay your palm on his chest, tracing lazily up and down with your fingers.

You figure Eddie must feel the cooling stickiness, because he starts to move and asks,

“Umm… Do I— Uh… Should I…? D’you need anything?”

You keep it simple.

“Umm, something to clean up with would be nice. And could I, maybe, get some water?”

The mere fact that he’s asked the question already puts him leagues above others, but you’re briefly concerned that Eddie will see this as annoying, or demanding. To your relief, he seems entirely unfazed. 

“Sure thing. You get comfy here and I’ll just be a minute.”

He wriggles sideways and backs off the bed, his beautiful grin lighting up his glowing face. His hair’s a dishevelled mess, his torso is still tinged pink and the scratches you left on his chest are an angry red, but you’ve never seen anyone so beautiful. Unable to break your gaze, he doesn’t turn until he’s already partly through the doorway. It’s sweet, and lovely, but as he leaves you’re almost sad that he didn’t turn sooner, as you’re treated to the glorious sight of his pert, peachy butt bouncing slightly as he leaves the room.

You swallow, thinking that’s a sight you could definitely get used to, but then chide yourself. He’s obviously happy to do this again, but you have no idea whether he’s… feeling the same way you are. But at that moment you make a decision - you’re absolutely going to broach the subject before you leave. Definitely. 

Probably. 

Maybe...

There’s the sound of running water and minutes later Eddie returns with a warm, damp washcloth and a small towel, and promptly disappears again. You clean yourself up as best you can and then take him at his word and get comfy, wrapping yourself up in his sheets before rolling onto your side and perusing the myriad objects atop his nightstand. There’s a full ashtray, loose keys, a lighter, a couple of rings, an empty pretzel tube, rolling papers, a creased music magazine and a lot of dust. A battered copy of a Tolkien novel catches your eye, and you pick it up and start to flip through it. There’s folded corners and pages marked with scraps of paper, notes and doodles in the margins and words written in runes in Eddie’s messy scrawl. You imagine it must be one of his most treasured possessions.

Just as you’re halfway through deciphering a short runic message, Eddie enters with snacks clasped in his hands and between his teeth. There's water, cold soda, pretzels, potato chips, a bowl with a few grapes in it, and half a bar of chocolate. His soft, but still pretty, cock swings with abandon as he heads towards you and dumps his haul onto the bed in front of you.

It’s all perfect. He’s perfect…

As the final packet leaves his mouth he spots what you have in your hand.

“I brought snacks too, I hope that’s okay. Whatcha got there, Princess?”

You drop the paperback like it’s burned you, blustering,

“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to snoop.”

“That’s alright, you can look. There’s nothing incriminating in there. Not gonna tell you where that stuff is, mind you."

He pulls a comical face as he flops down onto the bed, the old springs squeaking in protest, and you giggle, thinking about your journal and wondering whether he does indeed have any similarly incriminating stuff anywhere, as you admit,

“I read The Hobbit once. I liked it, but I found the other books too heavy going. Is that awful? Are you gonna throw me out now?”

You wince and add a deliberately over-expansive pout. Eddie’s hair shakes wildly as he responds emphatically,

“Oh, god no! You’d have to do a lot worse than that for me to ever let you go…”

You think he’s just being funny, but then his eyes soften suddenly, and you wonder whether, deep down, he actually means that. Your tummy flutters at the thought. But before you can dwell, his face brightens, and, breaking your thought process, he continues excitedly,

“Maybe I could read them to you sometime? I could explain it as I go. And I promise to skip any really dull parts.”

You smile and nod eagerly in agreement, imagining lazy days spent cuddling with Eddie reading aloud to you as you play with his hair and memorise his tattoos. You can’t pass this moment up, you have to say something. And, in just a minute, you will. You’re almost certain of it.

You sit up and lean back against the wall, and Eddie joins you, pulling his sheets and comforter around you both. You lean in close as you snack on your impromptu and welcome picnic, sometimes feeding each other small morsels, and he makes you giggle as he kisses crumbs from the side of your mouth and fake-bites your fingers. 

Food devoured, you snuggle against him with his arm slung around your shoulders. You bring a finger up to trace his ink, and he hums contentedly as you run your fingertips through his soft chest hair again. 

Okay, girl. Just do it.

Gathering yourself, you take a deep breath, holding it for far too long before the words tumble out of you.

“I’ve really enjoyed this, Eddie. Not just, y’know, this, but also the tutoring, and getting to know you. Shit, I’m probably messing this up so bad. I guess what I’m trying to say is… and I don’t know how you’d feel about this, but… we could carry this on. Properly. If— you wanted to.” 

Eddie stares at you for a moment, before he stammers, 

“We— we could?”  

A goofy smile appears on his face.

Bolstered, you gather your nerve and continue,

“And… I could be more than just your tutor. If you wanted me to be?”

Eddie replies, with a little trepidation, 

“Are you serious? You’d wanna be more than, y’know, this?” 

He gesticulates over both of your pelvises.

“Yeah. I was thinking… Fuck, I hope this isn’t too much. Will you tell me if this is too much? I thought… If you like… I could even, maybe… be your girlfriend?”

Eddie inhales quickly and his chest puffs, you hope with joy, but fucking hell you hope you haven’t overstepped and it’s actually horror.

“If I’d like? Shit, I would absolutely like that. Very, very much...”

He brings one hand up to stroke the side of your head, and then runs it lightly down over your shoulder and the side of your arm. He places a firm, lingering kiss to your lips before pulling back, smiling.

You stare into each other’s eyes, the gravity of the moment not lost on either of you. The nervous pit in your stomach is completely dissolved by a warm, honeyed sensation, as you slowly process that Eddie said yes, and that you’ve just snagged yourself the cutest, sweetest, sexiest boyfriend ever. 

You lean in, capturing Eddie’s plush lips in another chaste but oh-so-meaningful kiss. He presses forward to kiss you back, relaxing and heaving out a low sigh before his lips quirk into a devious-looking smirk, failing to hide his mischievous tone as he asks,

“I do have one question. If you’re my girlfriend now, do I still have to wait a whole week before we can do this again?”

You snort at his silliness.

“No, Eddie, you definitely don’t. In fact, what are you doing this weekend? Would you like to come over to my place? I’ve got plenty of ideas for more lessons, and I’m sure there’s lots we can teach each other.”

Eddie growls playfully before enthusiastically agreeing, prying excitedly for details like dates and times and possible activities. Although he seems more than fine with your company, you don’t want to push things too far or outstay your welcome, so when you glance at his bedside clock and see that it’s already way past the time you’d usually leave you turn to him with a resigned huff.

Eddie responds, 

“It’s that time already?”

You give him a glum little nod, and he continues,

“Do you really have to go? I mean, couldn’t you stay a little longer? I’d really like that.”

Smiling, you nuzzle in closer to him. 

“I was kinda hoping you’d say that boyfriend.”

In a surprising display of both strength and newly-found confidence, Eddie pushes your shoulder and flips you onto your back, scattering the empty packets and bowls across the bed and onto the floor. His pretty curls frame his face and tickle your cheeks as he looms over you, and his burgeoning erection feels hot as he presses it into the crease of your thigh.

He leans down, and his beautiful nose brushes yours as he murmurs,

“You know these lessons you’re talking about, Princess. How about we start right now?”

You hum into the kiss he plants on your lips and roll your hips upwards into him, making him moan. But before this particular lesson can go any further, you’re both disturbed by the sounds of the trailer door loudly opening and closing, and the rustle of fabric as someone removes what sounds like a heavy coat.

You and Eddie freeze, eyes wide and locked on each other's. 

“Oh shit, it’s my uncle!”

You gasp, and then both frantically sit up and scramble off the bed to get dressed, nervously giggling and flinging each other’s clothing across the room.

You’re almost done, and in record time too. But as you bend to retrieve a sock, Eddie's treated to the sight of your skirt lifting, revealing your bare cunt, a little of his spend leaking out of you. He’s momentarily struck dumb, and his jaw drops. But another noise outside snaps him back to reality. Stuttering, he mumbles,

“You don’t have any… uh…”

He waves a hand in the vague direction of your lower half, his cheeks reddening as he remembers what he did earlier on with your panties.

“It’s okay, Eddie. After that first time, I thought it would probably be a good idea to keep some spares in my bag.”

Standing, you wink at him. He pulls a thick lock of hair over his cheek, embarrassed, screwing up his eyes and realising he’s been completely and utterly caught. He tries to apologise, his words clipped,

“Shit. I’m sorry. I shouldn't have done that.”

“You know, from anyone else I’d have found it creepy, but from you I find it oddly flattering.”

He grins widely, and is just about to pull you into an embrace when there’s another noise, a gravelly voice this time, 

“Is this paper yours, son? You didn’t steal this from another kid again, did’ya?”

Eddie looks slightly bashful for a moment but there’s no time to dither. It's time to face whoever’s out there. Eddie opens his door and leaves first, beckoning you encouragingly to follow him. Standing in the narrow hallway by the kitchen, you come face to face with Eddie’s uncle for the first time. He’s clutching Eddie’s test paper, and his deep frown, grizzled features and broad frame cut an imposing figure. When he eyes the pair of you, you can’t help but feel a little nervous. 

Eddie speaks first, and addresses his uncle, a little sarcastically,

“Yes, that is indeed my test paper. And I’ll thank you for not looking quite so surprised.” 

The big man’s brows furrow a little deeper, and you can’t tell whether it’s with consternation or amusement, as his gaze flicks between the two of you. Eddie clears his throat and introduces Wayne to you, and tells his uncle your name. You think that’s it, until he straightens up a little, and with a confidence you weren’t expecting he slips an arm around your shoulders. He grips you tightly before adding, with a little nod, as if he’s practicing the words and still convincing himself, 

“And, uh, she’s my girlfriend.”

Oh. You like how it sounds coming from his lips.

Wayne’s forehead crinkles as his bushy eyebrows raise, but before you have time to worry his face splits into a wide grin. He extends a work-grizzled hand and shakes yours powerfully as he says, in a much lighter tone,

“Well, ain’t this the nicest news for this old soul to come home to. It’s a pleasure to meet you, darlin’.”

His voice is warm and kind, and you believe it. Looking between you and his nephew, Wayne adds,

“Do we have the pleasure of your company this evening? You caught us at a good time, I’ve just been huntin’n’gatherin’.”

He gestures towards the kitchen area. You see full bags piled onto the counter, mac’n’cheese boxes, eggs and a few vegetables peeking from the tops, and realise it’s a dinner invitation. You gape a couple of times, far from expecting this level of domestic intimacy, and Eddie seems to pick up on it and answers for the both of you.

“Not tonight. I’m gonna drop this lovely lady back home, and then I’ll come help you chop veggies, ‘kay?”

He sweeps an arm wide, directing you towards his front door, and you pad over to collect the rest of your belongings, careful when you bend so as not to reveal your lack of underwear to anyone who wasn’t expecting it. You clasp Eddie’s divine drawing to your chest, handling it with especial care. Behind you, you hear the two men mutter-whispering, Wayne speaking first.

“Is this the tutor girl you’ve been talking about non-stop these last few weeks? You finally asked her out, huh?”

You can hear the smile in Eddie’s voice as he responds,

“Keep your voice down, old man. Um, that’s not exactly how it happened, but yeah, that’s her.”

Eddie looks over to you with a fond smile on his face as you pick up your backpack, and he comes over to you and helps you with your shoes before you leave ahead of him. The last thing you hear before the door closes behind you both is Wayne speaking once more.

“Good for you, son. It’s about damn time!”

Series masterlist General masterlist

Thank you so much for reading! (And for sticking with me through the longest update gap I think I’ve ever had, ILY 🙏💗) This completes our main ‘lessons’, but don’t fret - I have some more Extra Credits planned for these two 😉

If you liked this please, please like, comment and, especially, reblog - it’s the only way fics stay alive, and it means so much to writers to get your reactions and feedback, it’s what keeps us sharing our work 💗💋

“It’s that time already?” is a prompt from @promptsh20, it fitted so well with this section of the story I just had to include it 😊 The “It’s never been this good” lines are adapted from a film, the name of which I’ve now forgotten 🙈, and the “Do that again” was inspired by a Ryan Reynolds line in Green Lantern (if I can’t have him say it to me IRL I’m damn well gonna have Eddie do it in a fic 😛)

I proofed this as much as I could but my brain turned to mush, so if there are any errors or anyone grows an extra limb or something please tell me 🙏😅

Taglist part one: @airen256 @bimbotrashcan @urlbitchin @guiltyasquinn @jamdoughnutmagician @rustboxstarr @bl4ckt00thgr1n @bexreadstoomuch @cozmiccass @yujyujj @cluz1babe @thunderg @aysheashea @paleidiot @cadence73 @eddie-munsons-wifey @siriuslysmoking @neville-is-my-husband @aestheticaltcow @jjmaybankswifes-blog @lightcommastix @ungracefularchimedes @spenciesprincess @joejoequinnquinn @freshoutthewomb2 @sunshinepeachx @tlclick73 @hellfirenacht @yourdailymemedelivery @wendyxox @madaboutmunson @80s-addict @the-unforgivenn @skrzydlak @eddiesxangel @bunny7232 @starksbabie @comeonatmebruh @jamiecb66 @abellmunsonmovie @sheneedsrocknroll92 @daisy-munson @maedesculpaeusoubi @wonderlanddreamer @leatherfaceologist @munson-blurbs @paradisepoisons @lokidokieokie @rcailleachcola @fckyeahlames @kurdtbean PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF YOU CHANGE YOUR URL OR DON’T WANT TO BE INCLUDED ANYMORE

[myownwholewildworld]

uplifting the bipoc community in the ppcu

hi everyone! after the recent discussions about racism in the ppcu, i have been thinking about what i can personally do to help. i've seen others doing similar things and i would like to join in the efforts of making this fandom more welcoming for the bipoc community.

i have decided that, if people are willing to chime in, i'll be reblogging (once a day or perhaps more) fics from bipoc writers in the pp fandom. and this is where i would need your help - i would love it if people would send in fic recs via dm or askbox that i can reblog, the more the merrier. this can either be fics you've read from a bipoc writer or self recs if you are one. that way i can queue a few. and if there's a bipoc writer who rather not have their works shared, please do let me know.

mind you, i am not one of the big blogs, my follower count is just under 1k. but if one reblog will reach a slightly bigger audience, then it's completely worth it. every little helps. and if other fellow writers are inspired by this and decide to do the same or something similar, then even better!

this is a beautiful community we have here, but it can obviously be even better and more welcoming. so let's make it happen! 💖

tagging some moots under the cut that may be inclined to help <3

@joelmillerisapunk @syd-djarin @gothcsz @pedgito @almostfoxglove @iknowisoundcrazy @joelalorian @baronessvonglitter @inept-the-magnificent @chronically-ghosted @goodwithcheese @tightjeansjavi @sixhours @gracieheartspedro @strang3lov3 @aurorawritestoescape @styleispunk @jessthebaker @almostempty @yopossum @rivnedell @djarins-cyare @yxtkiwiyxt @lokischocolatefountain @punkseyes @strangererotica @pepperstories @missyorkswhore @javierpenaispunk @romanarose @orcasoul @jolapeno @mushgloomz @joelslegalwhre @huntingingoodwill @papipascaaaal @maiamore @josephquinnswhore @slimybeth69 @peepawispunk @itwasntimethatdidit40 @probablyreadinsmut @max--phillips

[nothoughtsjustfic]

Finding Yourself - C.SC [Part 2]

🐢Who: Choi Seungcheol (Seventeen) x female reader 🐢What: 18+. Dark themes. Mafia au. Angst. Fluff. Suggestive. Slow burn. Mafia Boss Seungcheol. Single parent Seungcheol. Strangers to friends to lovers. Chan is reader’s little brother. Hansol is Seungcheol’s son. 🐢Word count: 21k 🐢Warnings: Characters with autism/ADHD. Selective mutism. Mentions and depictions of being overwhelmed/sensory overload and meltdowns. Degrading language, including mental disability slur. Gang typical content: threats, violence, torture, weapons, injury, blood, morally fucked up characters, mentions of past forced sex work. Mentions of being branded. Suggestive content & sexual conversations. Brief misunderstanding. 🐢Summary: “In an attempt to protect your little brother, you run away from home and the gang your father forced you into as a teenager.

You truly thought you were done with that life. But months later, when members of the Centaurs gang find you and your brother squatting in their property mid gang-fight, they take you back to their headquarters and force you right back into it.

Suddenly, you find yourself living in the home of the leader of the oldest, most famous gang in the entire country, and you very quickly realise that he isn’t the ruthless monster everyone thinks he is.”

Minors do NOT interact, which means reblogging and/or commenting on this story. I WILL block any account that interacts without an age indicator in their bio.

Masterlist Finding Yourself Part 1 – Finding Yourself Part 3

Disclaimer: Okay, so I feel like I need to point out that I do have both autism and ADHD, and I have done a lot of research around both during my own discovery/diagnosis periods; even now I’m constantly learning that more aspects of myself are very common in people with autism/ADHD so there is truth behind how the characters are portrayed in this fic. Yet, with that being said, both autism and ADHD are very vast in that you can have a room full of people with both disabilities and yet every single one of those people are incredibly different, which means that the characters in this story who have autism or ADHD are not accurate portrayals of every single person with either. There are 4 clearly stated autistic people in this fic throughout and they are each different personalities and how their disability affects them. So please don’t leave comments or send rude asks accusing me of misrepresentation or anything like that just because a character you’ve watched in a movie isn’t written the same as these characters, thanks.

Although most of your time over the following weeks is spent with Seungkwan as the two of you watch over the boys while they learn and play together, you feel like your time with Seungcheol feels like more somehow.

Maybe it’s because it’s always just the two of you in his office, side by side on the loveseat together, to discuss everything you know about the Vultures and how Seungcheol can take them apart so severely that they’ll never put themselves back together again. Maybe it’s because you both quickly lose track of time as you talk bent over his notebook together for hours. Maybe it’s because even when he closes the notebook and declares his brain is too fried to talk work any longer, you remain side by side on the couch to talk about everything and anything that comes to mind. Maybe it’s because the first time that you don’t stop yourself from flexing your hands when you start to get overloaded, Seungcheol notices and doesn’t stop you, just silently closes the notebook before shutting the study door and opening the window to let the cool night air in with the subtle sounds of nature to help you relax.

Ever since the first time Seungcheol saw your stimming, he’s paid closer attention to the signs and often reaches out to stop you from sitting on your hands or pressing your legs down so that you don’t bounce them. He silently encourages you and even keeps fidget toys on the coffee table now for you to play with as the two of you work and doesn’t tell you to sit down when you get up to walk around or pace sometimes. He just carries on talking and always manages to land his eyes on you when he looks up as if he’s keeping track of you in his periphery.

It’s the first time anyone has ever taken the time to see you; to understand and let you just exist as you’re supposed to. You don’t think you’ve even given yourself such care before. But thanks to Seungcheol’s gentle encouragement and silent support, you think you’re starting to find yourself little by little.

“Hey- oh,” Seungcheol greets as he walks into his study one evening and finds that you’ve rearranged the furniture. “Uh, what happened in here?”

“It was wrong,” you declare, as you frown at the study while looking around it in dissatisfaction. “It still is.” You huff and go back to moving the heavy desk for the third time.

“Alright, there’s clearly something here,” Seungcheol walks over and tugs you away from the desk to hold your hands, even as you tug slightly in a weak attempt to free yourself. You’re not sure what you want right now: if you’re okay with the touch or would rather he be across the room. “What’s going on, is something wrong, sweetheart?”

“I told you; it’s wrong. Everything is wrong, Seungcheol.”

“The room? We can move the furniture as much as you want if that’s what you need right now, but I don’t think it is.” You pull your hands from his hold with a huff and return to the desk.

For a few minutes, Seungcheol silently stands and watches you adjust the desk in such tiny increments that he really wouldn’t even know you’ve moved it if he hasn’t got his attention glued to you. When he sees you lift and lower one end a few times without changing the desk to a different position, he suddenly thinks he understands and hums.

“Come on,” he says, walking over to take your hand into his. You look at him with a frown. “I think I know what will help, come on.” Although you’re confused, you trust the man, so you obediently follow him with your hand in his.

It’s now that you suddenly realise the truth of that; that even though you’ve only known him less than two months, you trust Choi Seungcheol; the big, bad boss of the most feared gang in the country.

Of course, you know that he’s no saint by any means, he’s come home with bloodied knuckles and other people’s blood speckled on his neck where he hasn’t noticed it when clearing up before coming into the manor. You know he can be ruthless and vicious, but he’s also the most understanding and accepting person you’ve ever met, and he’s raising the sweetest little boy. Seungcheol really can’t be a truly bad person to have such a caring son as Hansol.

The realisation that you would blindly follow this man without question makes you stop in your tracks in pure shock, despite being on the stairs.

Seungcheol immediately comes to a still a few steps in front of you and turns to look up at you worriedly. “You okay, sweetheart?”

“I trust you,” you mutter.

Seungcheol blinks a few times, dumbstruck by the sudden admittance before he walks up the steps until he’s on the one below you and looking at you with something strange on his features and in his shining eyes that you really don’t understand. “Yeah?” You nod in confirmation without an ounce of hesitation. Seungcheol smiles and lifts his hand off the banister to gently brush your overgrown hair out of your eyes. “That makes me really happy to hear, sweetheart. I trust you too.”

“I didn’t realise I trust you until now. I don’t think I’ve ever trusted someone like this before. It’s weird.”

“Like what?”

“So quickly and completely.”

“You trust me completely?” You nod. “With everything? With Squirt?”

“His name is Chan,” you inform simply; information that none of them know despite the pair of you having lived in the manor for almost two months now.

Seungcheol’s eyes grow wide in genuine astonishment. “I didn’t think we’d ever know.”

“They don’t. You do.”

“Just me?” You nod. “Oh, sweetheart.” He lets out a breath and cups your cheek for a moment before he lowers his hand again. “Come on.” Seungcheol turns and leads you down the stairs to grab your shoes and coats to put on at the back door before going outside.

When you’re standing side by side at the playground barely lit by the moon overhead, he lets go of your hand and walks over to the huge metal framework to start climbing.

You remain in place and watch him bewilderedly until he looks at you from a couple of metres off the ground with a grin. “Come on, climb with me.”

“Why?”

“Why not?” It’s not normally a convincing argument, but when Seungcheol says it, it seems like enough, and you find yourself walking over to start climbing.

Your movements are timid at first, you don’t think you even climbed much as a child, and you’re still recovering from months of little food and lack of real exercise, so it’s harder than it should be for you to pull and push yourself along the bars and ropes.

But after a while, you look up to find Seungcheol and when you notice his soft smile on you, you realise that you’re smiling too. “Come on, you can almost see over the wall from the top!” He enthuses and turns to keep climbing to the sheltered platform at the very top, leaving him mostly in the shadows once inside.

When you clamber into the shelter a few minutes later, he’s laid on a blanket with a pillow under his head and another at his side. He pats the blanket on his right, so you crawl over and lay down curled up on your side facing him. From his left, he grabs another blanket and lays it out over the both of you before settling on his side to face you.  

“Feel better?” He asks softly when you’re both comfortable.

“I needed to climb?” You ask.

“I think you just needed to put your body to use. That’s why you were moving stuff and kept lifting the desk up and down; to use your muscles. I don’t suppose you do much of that other than carrying Chan. Maybe that’s part of the reason you like carrying him so much, actually.”

“Oh, maybe,” you agree. “That would make sense. I used to train and stuff before leaving so I’m not used to doing so little.”

“We have a home gym, state of the art and everything, you can use it whenever you want, Pearl.” You stare at him for a moment before stating your name, earning a confused look. “Who’s that?”

“Me.”

“You?” You nod. “Oh…oh, that’s your real name.” You hum in confirmation. “Thank you for trusting me enough to tell me.” He shuffles a little closer and takes your hand from where it lays on the blanket between you. “It means a lot to me that you do, more than I can put into words. I’m really fucking happy you trust me so much.”

“I think I’m happy too,” you admit. “It’s like I have a friend.”

“What? Sweetheart,” he frowns and let’s go of your hand to slide his hand up your arm and then to your back to pull you closer, right to his chest.

You’ve never done this before, cuddled, not with anyone other than Chan. You quickly decide that you like it and shuffle closer to tuck your face into his neck while putting your right arm around his waist.

Seungcheol curls his arm around you and turns his head down to kiss the top of your head. “I am your friend, we all are. There’s no like a friend at all, we are.”

“Oh, that’s nice. I’ve always wanted friends.”

“And you have us, for as long as you want us.”

“A long time would be nice.”

“It really fucking would.”

The very next night after had Seungcheol taken you out to the climbing frame, when you enter his office expecting to be empty as he usually arrives after you, he’s already there.

For the first time in two months, you see him wearing sweatpants and a matching, unzipped hoodie, showing the black compression shirt clinging to his firm torso underneath. You’re too thrown off to do anything but stare from the doorway at the sight of the man in such casual clothing when he’s usually always ready to leave the house for work purposes or just back from work; sometimes in suits, sometimes in neat jeans and dark t-shirts, and sometimes in his expensive motorbike leathers.

“What?” He asks where he’s leaning back against his desk in wait with his palms on the edge either side of his hips.

“Never seen you casual,” you answer, coming back to reality, and start to edge towards the seating. Though he chooses now to push off the desk and pick up the material that had been hiding behind him to toss to you, so you’re forced to stop in your path to catch it. “What’s this?”

“Figure you don’t have any workout clothes, so I got some today. Kinda guessed your size, so if it’s wrong, it’s your own fault for wearing baggy trousers and crewnecks all the time.”

“They’re comfy,” you mumble in defence while adjusting the cool material in your hands to take in the matching leggings and sports bra in black, other than the coloured stripes around the top of the thighs. You blink at it dumbly for a moment, then look at him incredulously.

“What?”

“Are you a pervert, Seungcheol?”

In an instant, his eyes turn even wider than normal, and his face visibly warms. “What?! No!”

“I assume you expect me to wear this and work out with you, based on your own outfit.”

“Why does that make me a pervert?! I asked the woman what typical woman’s workout gear is and she told me that’s the most popular set! Blame her!” He gestures pointlessly, flicking his arms out as if to motion to a woman who isn’t even present.

“And you didn’t once look at this and consider that I will essentially be topless and wearing a second set of skin on my legs? I don’t even know if I can wear underwear under this kind of material.”

Seungcheol chokes on his sudden inhale, earning a questioning look from you. “I-I’m fine.”

“You’re red again.”

“Shut up!” He stalks past you out of the room suddenly, only to backtrack and offer his hand while keeping his pink face directed away from you. He looks so childlike and cute that it makes you giggle before accepting his hand and holding the clothes to your chest while he leads you out of his office and down the stairs.

Although you’ve been all over the manor at this point, just to learn where all the hallways lead in case of emergency, you’ve never been down into the basement after learning that it’s just storage and the gym with no sensible exits, only tiny windows along the tops of the outer rooms, meaning you’ve had no reason to go down there until now.

Despite being curious about the layout and what the rooms and halls you pass contain, you focus on Seungcheol and his quick steps as he leads you through the barely lit basement. You can’t tell if the path is so engrained into him that he doesn’t need more lighting to find his way, or if his eyesight is just much more reliable than yours in the dull light.

You’re mostly relying on your hearing to tell you when you enter different spaces, with your eyes glued to Seungcheol’s hand in your own and your feet in your peripheral so that you don’t trip. When the echoes of your steps give away that this room you’ve just entered is much larger and far more open than the halls and smaller rooms you’ve walked through to get here, you correctly guess that you’ve entered the gym.

Though Seungcheol doesn’t pause or turn on a light, he continues forward, slippers slapping across the linoleum, until he stops to open a door and urge you inside.

Finally, he turns on a light and you have to blink and squint for a few seconds to grow accustomed to the sudden white light. Only then are you able to peer around and understand that you’re now standing just inside of a changing room, with lockers along one wall and exposed showers at the back behind you.

“Okay, get changed and come back out. It’s just us here and I promise I’m not going to come in unless you call me, okay?”

“Why would I call you?” You give him a bewildered look before turning to walk to the benches in the centre of the room and put the clothes down.

“If you get hurt or something.”

“I think I’m perfectly capable of getting changed without hurting myself.”

“Right, right, okay, whatever, just get changed and come out,” he decides while waving one hand dismissively before backing up, letting the door swing shut behind him.

Not wanting to make Seungcheol wait around, you quickly change into the leggings and sports bra while wondering how Seungcheol managed to accurately guess your clothes size. At least, based on the tag he correctly guessed your size, because even though the sports bra fits fine, the leggings are practically trying to absorb themselves into your skin and you have to remove your underwear to gain the extra little space to fit them more comfortably over your ass.

“This is ridiculous,” you mutter while looking at your reflection and taking in how tight the material is on you. You’ve never been a fan of such tight clothing simply because you don’t like feeling so constricted, but at least the material is soft enough that you think you’ll be able to handle this long enough to work out and then never force yourself into again.

Part of you wants to change back into your own clothes and tell Seungcheol that there’s no way you can wear this, but the other part of you doesn’t want to disappoint him by not wearing the clothes he went out of his way to buy for you. You figure after all the man has done for you over the past two months, the least you can do is wear the outfit.

You’ve never been self-conscious about your body; it’s not something you’ve ever much cared about, others perception of your physical body, yet today you hesitate before opening the door as a strange little concern of what Seungcheol will think of your body flashes through your mind. Thankfully, it truly is only a rapid worry and goes as soon as it arrives, so you don’t hover any longer than a second before leaving the changing room.

“People really wear this stuff regularly?” You wonder, drawing Seungcheol’s attention from where he’s arranging equipment on the open matted area, the only area he’s turned the lights on for.

“Yeah, that’s-” he cuts off abruptly when his eyes land on you while you approach him.

You see his lips move and can’t tell if he’s saying something to himself too quietly for you to hear or just imitating a fish. Either way, he looks ridiculous with once again wide eyes and his arms slowly dropping downwards as his hands grow lax.

It seems as if he’s somehow forgotten that he’s got a 1kg dumbbell in each hand and only remembers when one of them lands on his sock clad foot. “Fuck!” He exclaims, doubling over until he’s lowered to the mats with his hands clutching the impact site on the top of his right foot.

“Least it was only light,” you comment as you stop beside him, your slippers left next to his own at the side of the mats.

“The fucking corner landed on bone,” he grunts. You eye the bright green, hexagonal weight, and reason that yeah, that would hurt, even if it is made of neoprene as opposed to metal.

After a few moments of just standing in wait while watching him, Seungcheol straightens up with his hands on the tops of his thighs to look at you. Though he quickly looks away and removes his hoodie to toss at you.

“Please put that on for my sanity,” he pleads awkwardly.

“You’re red again,” you comment while you do as he asked and pull on his hoodie to zip up. It stops at your mid-thigh and past your hands. “This is a safety hazard, surely.”

Seungcheol looks at you as you flap the sleeves. His pinched expression smooths out and a gentle smile turns up the corners of his mouth. “A cute one at least.”

“I don’t think the cuteness of a hazard makes it any better, Seungcheol,” you point out, looking at him flatly.

He laughs softly and gets up to step closer to you and picks up one of your arms. “No, but it’s what we’re dealing with,” he reasons as he folds up the sleeve to the middle of your forearm to free your hand, then swaps to repeat on your other arm. You quietly watch him work, unaware that his gaze isn’t even on the material he’s handling but instead glued to your curious expression while his own is nothing but fond.

After an hour of Seungcheol refusing to let you do anything too arduous, he declares the work out over and guides you through a cool down that doesn’t do much to deter the rabbiting of your heart when the attractive man is still insisting on physically guiding you.

For the past hour, Seungcheol has been right by your side; manually adjusting you with his hands on your body and intense eyes tracking your form to make sure that you’re not about to hurt yourself by positioning yourself wrong. You’ve tried to tell him that you know how to do it all properly, you did more taxing exercises than this daily back when you were a Vulture, yet the stubborn ass doesn’t accept your words and reminds you that you’re months out of practice, before moving you into the next exercise.

To your relief, he deems you sufficiently cooled down, despite your pink cheeks, and lets you get up and grab a bottle of water from the drinks fridge to start swallowing the contents down.

“Aren’t you going to work out?” You ask a few seconds later as you watch him tidy up from a safe distance out of his reach.

You’re not an idiot, you know that Seungcheol is a beautiful man; you’ve known that from before you even met and simply had the knowledge confirmed the first time you laid eyes him in person. But you’ve met plenty of attractive men in your life and you’ve never felt your heart race just because their hands gently correct your posture, or their eyes remain focused on you intensely with nothing inappropriate in the dark shine.

That probably makes it even worse; that Seungcheol wasn’t even checking you out or trying to cop a feel. He was genuinely just trying to help and get you healthy again, like he always does.

Maybe his touch might’ve lingered a few times, but you refuse to assume that it was him wanting to touch you and not just that your perceptions of what a reasonable time frame is, differs from his own. You don’t want to think anything inappropriate of the man who has been nothing but kind and understanding to you, you don’t want to cross any boundaries even in your mind.

So even though this is the first time you’ve genuinely felt yourself gain even a little attraction to anyone, you push it down and do your best to ignore the way it’s impossible to miss his bulging arms in the short sleeves of his compression shirt and the way it makes heat tingle in your lower stomach.

“Hm?” Seungcheol replies, looking over at you briefly, then back to stacking the colourful dumbbells on a little rack that doesn’t match the rest of the black and silver equipment.

Suddenly, you wonder if he had bought more than just the clothes for you today while you thought he was out working. It doesn’t help your newfound attraction in the man to think about it; that he really did go out of his way purely for you, so you push that thought aside too.

“Aren’t you going to work out?” You repeat your question.

“I work out in the mornings.”

“Then you wore that just to show off,” you deduce and bite back a laugh as Seungcheol almost trips on the resistance band he’s picking up. “You’re very clumsy for a legendary Choi Centaur.”

“I’m not!” He argues, turning away in a manner you can only describe as sulky, to stalk over to the unit and shove the bands in the containers.

“You dropped a dumbbell on your foot and just almost tripped on a resistance band.”

“Not my fault,” he mumbles poutily and picks up the last item to put away. “Grab your stuff so we can go get a snack. Then you can change, and we can go back to my office and work on the plan.”

“Yes, sir.”

Seungcheol trips over his own slippers.

For the past few weeks, Seungcheol has allowed you to leave the manor grounds to go out into the middle wall where the Centaurs mostly work from and keep supplies, protected by the two walls around the ring of warehouses and buildings.

At first, he had shown you around with the intention of letting you know how he runs things and what he has at his fingertips so that you can accurately make suggestions of how he can take apart your father’s gang. 

But then once you entered the garage where the head mechanic was swearing at his team for messing up a basic task again, and the short man had rhetorically asked a question about which tool to use for a task, you had answered. More to yourself, but Seungcheol heard and called the head mechanic over.

When Seungcheol queried the mechanic about what the correct tool was, Jihoon had responded with a quip about his team not even knowing basic mechanical skills despite knowing much more complex stuff, and then the tool name. Seungcheol had pretty much handed you over to the mechanic then and there, wished you luck with Jihoon’s temper, then left the pair of you to figure out where to go from there.

Judging by the way Seungcheol grumbles when you turn up late to your workouts and meetings after being introduced to Jihoon, you don’t think Seungcheol intended for you and Jihoon to become friends.

After that first meeting, Jihoon often calls you out to the garage to assist him; he says he prefers your straightforward approach and focus than his team’s puttering, and you enjoy the time with the mechanic too much to care about Seungcheol’s grumping.

Your father never really allowed you to do stereotypically masculine things such as getting your hands dirty or even learning theoretical knowledge on how cars work; though you still did your own research and hungrily consumed every drop of information you could. So being able to finally scratch that curious itch about mechanics makes something within you brighten and lighten, which means as far as you’re aware, Seungcheol can sulk all he wants; you’re never going to turn down Jihoon when he asks for your assistance or offers to let you watch and learn.

“What the fuck are you doing with that?!” Jihoon yells when he notices one of his mechanics touching Seungcheol’s favourite motorbike from across the garage to where the two of you are sitting on the ground. There’s an engine sitting on a mat in front of you so that he can more accurately explain how it all works while pointing out the different parts, for today’s lesson.

The two men abruptly back away from the motorbike but Jihoon is already getting up to stalk over and grab a rag to whip it at them harshly. Only when they apologise and repeatedly bow rapidly does he tell them to get lost and then turn to buff out their greasy fingerprints from the sleek, cherry red paint job, grumbling under his breath as he goes.

Now that Jihoon is across the garage and you’re not listening to him talking, you can hear a couple of the mechanics talking between themselves a little behind you at the car they’re working on. You don’t really pay any attention though until you hear “the kid” and tilt your head ever so slightly to focus on their low voices and spy on them from your peripheral.

“Seriously, should just get rid of him, I ain’t gonna bow to a retard when the boss dies,” one grunts. Your jaw immediately clenches, and anger starts to simmer in your veins.

“Shut up, man, you can’t say shit like that,” the other warns and to your relief, he actually sounds like he’s truly scolding the man and not just trying to prevent him getting in trouble.

“Why not?” The first man asks with a scoff. “Who’s gonna stop me? Boss ain’t here, Woozi’s across the garage and I doubt that dumb bitch is even listening.”

“Fuck off, she’s smarter than you. She caught your mistake yesterday; that’s the only reason you’re calling her names. Well, that and she’s not interested in you, got your back up, huh?”

“Reckon she’s fucking the boss; that’s the only reason she’s here.” He grunts as he adjusts something under the bonnet.

“None of our business.”

“Whatever, just as long as she don’t pop out another retard like that annoying fucking kid.”

That’s as much as you can handle.

You get up and turn to approach. Both men are entirely unaware of your presence until you grab the back of the second man’s overalls to yank him out of the way. He stumbles back with a yelp and the first man looks over curiously, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. His eyes fly wide in panicked shock when you knock down the prop holding the bonnet up and then pull it down harshly onto him with a resounding thud while he screams in pain.

“What the fuck?!” Jihoon exclaims and runs over to pull you back and lift the bonnet up to free the man, who immediately slinks to the floor while writhing in pain with his hands on his back. “Why the fuck did you do that, Pearl?!” Jihoon yells, turning burning eyes on you.

“He was shit talking Solie,” you answer, glaring at the man.

Immediately, Jihoon’s anger at you is directed to the man. “What?” He hisses.

“She-she’s lying!” The man wails. “C-crazy bitch!”

Jihoon steps closer and shoves the man over onto his front with his foot before pressing it down on the impact spot from the edge of the bonnet, where the man is gripping, making him scream in pain. “Don’t you fucking dare call her that,” Jihoon warns lowly and takes his phone from his pocket. “Coups will want to deal with this personally.”

“No, no, p-please, Woozi,” the man pleads through sobs while trying to remove Jihoon’s foot from his back. Jihoon just pushes down harder until there’s an audible crack, making the man wail louder, as he lifts his ringing phone to his ear.

It only takes a few rings for the call to be picked up, then Jihoon speaks. “Hey, Coups, you’re gonna wanna come here, got something for you to handle.” That’s all he says before waiting a second for a response then he hangs up and tucks his phone back into his overalls pocket. “Clear the garage,” Jihoon orders, looking over at the second man, who simply nods before rushing off to tell all of the other mechanics to make themselves scarce.

“Won’t he try to run?” You comment when Jihoon moves away from the man to inspect the slightly dented bonnet.

“Not if he knows what’s good for him,” Jihoon replies with a shrug then looks at you with a little smirk. “But also judging by the fact this is bent; I think you slammed it on him hard enough that moving that much is going to be too fucking painful. Didn’t know you had it in you, Pearl.”

“Say what you want about me, I don’t care, but talk about an innocent kid like that, especially Solie, I’m not going to let that go.”

“Good, proves you’re one of us, unlike that piece of shit.” Jihoon glares at the sobbing man on the floor. He’s still laid crying on his stomach as if he’s either given up trying to move or simply can’t. 

It’s almost ten minutes before Seungcheol arrives from around the other side of the middle wall where he had been meeting new recruits with Mingyu, Soonyoung and Wonwoo.

Wonwoo is the man in charge of organising all of Seungcheol’s men while Soonyoung is in charge of training them; something that still surprises you based on how innocent and upbeat Soonyoung always seems in the manor. You’ve never seen him outside of the inner wall, but you can only imagine he’s a completely different man.

In fact, you think the only man who is pretty much the same in the manor and out here is Jihoon. Sure, he plays with Hansol and Chan, and he laughs with everyone in the house a lot more than out here, but he is still to the point and no nonsense in both places. You like that about him; his consistency and that there’s no pointless guessing with him. You always know what he wants and expects because he’s straightforward about it.

Seungcheol enters the garage alone with a dark, intimidating scowl already on his face knowing that something has to have gone wrong for Jihoon of all people to call him away from work. “What happened?”

“This fuckwit decided to shit talk your son,” Jihoon informs bluntly, arms crossed over his chest casually where he’s leaning against the car beside the bonnet, which no longer closes properly.

“I-I didn’t,” the man on the floor sobs. “P-please.”

“Woozi doesn’t fuck around when it comes to family,” Seungcheol growls while turning the man over onto his back before yanking him up from the ground by the front of his overalls, making him scream in pain. “What the fuck have you done to him already to make him like this?” Seungcheol wonders, looking over at Jihoon, then shaking the man pointedly to make him cry out again without moving his lower body at all, only his arms that scramble to grip Seungcheol and try to fruitlessly pry his strong grip away.

“Pearl slammed the bonnet on him,” Jihoon smirks, motioning to the dent at his side.

Seungcheol looks over at you. “You paralysed him?”

“That was likely a joint effort, Woozi stood on his back,” you reply rationally. “He was moving before then.”

“Good point,” Jihoon agrees. “We both had a part in it.”

“Only been out here for two weeks and you’re already teaming up to fuck up people’s lives,” Seungcheol mutters, giving the pair of you a look as if he’s not sure he quite approves of this new teamwork, yet he doesn’t say anything more and instead looks back at the man in his hold. “Alright, they started it but I’m going to finish it.”

“Please don’t kill me,” the man begs, practically choking out the words.

“Oh, that would be too kind, I want you to live and suffer,” Seungcheol replies sweetly and drops the man to the floor abruptly, earning echoed screams of pain. “Sweetheart, you should go wait outside.”

“Why?” You question as you watch Seungcheol drag the man over to the drain before lowering to his knees and pulling a butterfly knife from his pocket while the man whimpers and continuously begs for mercy.

“Because this isn’t going to be pretty.”

“As if I’m innocent,” you remind with a scoff while folding your arms over your chest.

Seungcheol lets out a sigh then motions to the man as Jihoon stops behind him with a blow torch, a small piece of flat metal and a pair of heat safe gloves. Jihoon nods and kneels down to make sure the man stays in place while Seungcheol gets up and walks over to you.

Silently, he takes your hand and leads you further away from the pair to the midpoint between them and the exit. There, he turns you to face him while all but whispering your name. “Please, go outside; I don’t want you to see me like this,” he requests softly, giving you such an earnest, pleading look that you nod in agreement before you fully register your own decision. He lets out a relieved breath and cups your cheek with a grateful little smile before letting you go and stalking back over to Jihoon and the sobbing man, stern expression returning.

Confusedly, you exit the garage and close the door firmly before moving to sit on the bonnet of Seungcheol’s car in wait.

Although there is plenty of noise around you from the nearby buildings and people milling around, you can still hear the agonised screams coming from within the garage a minute later.

It doesn’t last long before you hear nothing more from within the garage.

You’re only outside for a few minutes before Seungcheol exits while wiping his bloodied hands on a rag. Thanks to the fact he had removed his jacket once you left the garage to not get it dirty, his arms are exposed in his short-sleeved t-shirt, and you can see more blood splashed up his forearms.

“That was quick,” you comment as he approaches you and shrugs his jacket from where it’s slung over his shoulder, onto the bonnet at your side while still wiping at his hands.

“He passed out part way,” he explains simply.  

“What did you do to him?”

“I already told you that I don’t want you to see me like that.”

“I’m not seeing, you’re telling.”

“Sweetheart,” he sighs and looks up at you instead of his hands. You can see specks of blood on his jaw and throat that you know he’ll miss with the rag; he might not even know more than his hands and arms are dirty.

“If you don’t tell me, I’ll ask Jihoon.”

“Why are you so fucking interested?”

“I just want to know what you did; he deserves to suffer after what he said.”

Seungcheol stares at you for a moment before responding. “What did he say exactly, sweetheart?”

“Tell me what you were doing, and I’ll tell you what he said.”

He makes a frustrated sound yet relents. “I was cutting out his fucking tongue, happy?”

“Did you finish?”

“What?”

“You said he passed out; did you stop then or finish the job?”

“Of course, I fucking finished the job,” he grunts and looks down to start scrubbing at his arm harshly. “Now tell me what the fuck that piece of shit said about my son.”

“He called him a retard. Twice,” you inform, taking the rag from Seungcheol’s hand as he freezes, so that you can wipe at his skin with the too dry material much more gently than he had been.

“I should kill him,” he growls.

“No,” you argue levelly and gently tilt his head up so that he’s looking at you instead of burning holes into his own arm with his dangerous glare.

“He fucking-”

“Death would be too easy, right?” You remind and cup his cheek to tug him closer, until he’s standing between your knees, and you can gently start wiping away the speckles on his jaw. “I don’t know if he will recover from the back injury, but if so, it will take a long time. And I know from experience that a person with their tongue missing, even only a small part of it, will suffer, often with phantom pains. Death would be too easy.”

Seungcheol stares at you for a few minutes as your tender touch soothes him, even if your only intention is to clean him and not calm his anger, but it does. When he tilts into your palm, you look up into his eyes and find him looking at you in a way that makes your heart flutter.

“Death would be too easy,” he agrees quietly. “Thank you.”

“You can’t see yourself, you always miss your neck,” you point out, focusing back on wiping down his skin as best as you can with the stained rag.

“I didn’t mean that, though yes, thank you for always cleaning up where I miss.”

“Mm, don’t want the boys seeing that.”

“No, we don’t,” he agrees and straightens up when you remove your hand so that you can clean that side of his face too. “I meant for standing up for Hansol, thank you; for having my family’s back.”

“Of course, you took me and my brother in, your family has accepted mine and that…well it’s more than I’ve ever had. I’m endlessly grateful to you, Seungcheol, and to Hansol for taking Chan under his wing and being so wonderful to him. I’d do anything for you both, as long as it doesn’t negatively impact Chan, of course.”

“I’d never want you to do anything that does,” he promises. “I won’t ever put you in a dangerous position willingly and I’d tear the city apart to hurt anyone that tries to hurt you.”

You look at him with brows furrowed questioningly. “Why? I’m not your family or inner circle.”

“You really think that?” He huffs a disbelieving laugh. “Sweetheart, you’re not just in the house because I want to keep your brother safe and with Hansol. You’ve proven yourself over and over again the past almost three months. You’ve given me all the information you have on the Vulture and his fucked-up cronies and helped me plan every move we’ve made so far. I’ve been trying to chip away at that gang for years but never had the chance because no-one we’ve caught fucking talks. I’ll give ‘em that, they know how to keep their mouths shut fucking tight.”

“That’s the torture resistance training,” you state matter-of-factly.

“What?” Seungcheol mutters. “Torture resistance training? Like they’ve been tortured so they know how to keep quiet?” You nod in confirmation. “Did…did you go through that too?”

“Yeah, we all do before getting our brands.”

“Fuck, I can’t believe he forced his daughter to go through torture like that.”

“You don’t know the half of what that man is capable of, Seungcheol,” you reason, before looking down at his arms and frowning. “I think you need water to clean up properly; this rag is too covered in blood now.”

“There’s wipes in the glovebox,” he motions to the car, so you nudge him back to give you space to slide off the bonnet and walk around, open the car, and reach inside with your hand not smeared in blood to grab the packet of wet wipes. They’re the same brand as the ones placed all over the manor for when Hansol, and now Chan, need to be cleaned without sending them to the bathroom to wash their hands and face.

Something about cleaning the blood from the man’s neck with the wipes from the packet with cartoon dinosaurs on it, makes you start to giggle.

Seungcheol watches you amusedly, and very bewildered, for a few seconds before questioning you. “What’s funny?”

“Just cleaning up the big bad Choi Centaur boss with wipes embossed with cute dinosaurs.”

“Oh,” he mutters, then chuckles. “I’ve never thought about it before, but I guess that is pretty funny. Hansol really likes these ones; they’re not too wet without drying like right away, and they don’t smell of anything.”

“Mm, they’re good ones, Chan likes them too. He never usually likes wet wipes but he’s fine with these; he says they’re soft.”

“They are, but you’re also just really gentle. Hard to imagine the woman who just slammed a man in a car and broke his back is this…tender.”

“Only to those who deserve it.”

“I don’t deserve it.”

You land a stern look on him. “Don’t bullshit me, Choi Seungcheol, you deserve to be cared for and treated tenderly. You’re not a truly bad man. You have done a lot of fucked up shit and will continue to, so your soul isn’t ever going to be pure, but your heart is.”

You watch as a barrage of emotions flicker over Seungcheol’s face, eyes darting between your own as he searches for any hint of uncertainty, yet when he finds none, he presses his lips together and inhales slowly and deeply.

When he lets the breath out, it’s a little shaky. “I think- I think if anyone else tried to say that to me, I wouldn’t believe them,” he admits quietly, voice tinged with emotion and a little weak in places as if your honesty has sucked the strength from his very core. “But I trust you, with everything in me and that- that’s kind of fucking terrifying, if I’m honest with you.”

“I can imagine you don’t trust easily, being who you are.”

“No, I really fucking don’t,” he lets out a broken little laugh before stepping closer to remove the packet from your left hand and wipe from your right hand to toss them onto the car behind you so that he can pull you into his arms in an embrace so warm despite the man only wearing a t-shirt on his torso in the early spring weather. “You are one of the most important people to me, sweetheart, so please don’t ever do anything to break my trust. I don’t think I could come back from a betrayal by you of all people.”

“Ditto,” is your simple response against his shoulder, making him laugh slightly.

He holds you a moment longer then lets you go. “Come on, I’m done with work for the day.”

“It’s not even lunch time.”

“I don’t give a fuck,” he replies, grabbing everything from the bonnet to toss onto the backseat of the car carelessly. “Come on, I want to spend the rest of the day with you and the boys.”

“Oh!” You light up and rush to get into the passenger seat, excited to spend time with your favourite three people in the world.

Even though you’ve barely entered the house, you can hear Chan’s distressed wailing easily. A huge part of you wants to sprint straight to him so that you can soothe him and fix whatever the issue is, but you know the difference between his cries, and this isn’t a pained one.

Knowing that your brother isn’t hurt, you manage to keep your cool long enough to remove your boots at Seungcheol’s side and step out of your dirty overalls to toss into the laundry room. It leaves you in the exercise leggings Seungcheol had brought you, which you have actually gained quite fond of even if you only wear them under your overalls, and an oversized t-shirt you think might be Mingyu’s. Then you rush towards the playroom upstairs with Seungcheol right on your heels.

You don’t realise that his eyes are glued to your ass dumbly as he follows a few steps behind you up the stairs, until he tries to stand on a step that doesn’t exist at the top having not been paying attention, and he falls forward right into you, taking you both down to the floor with a loud thump.

“What the fuck, Seungcheol?” You grunt, shoving him off of you to turn over and look at him incredulously. 

“Sorry, sorry.” He’s blushing embarrassedly and not looking at you as he scrambles to his feet and helps you up.

“What was that?” Junhui calls from the bottom of the stairs.

“Just fell, it’s fine!” Seungcheol returns.

“You fell? You never fall.” The cook mumbles away as he wanders back to his domain to work on lunch.

“How have you hidden how clumsy you are from them all?” You wonder.

“I’m not clumsy,” Seungcheol defends, doing his best not to pout as he turns you around and walks you to the playroom with his hands on your shoulders.

As soon as you step into the large room, you understand the issue.

Over in the crafts corner, Seungkwan is trying to soothe your brother where he’s laid on the floor kicking and screaming with paint on his raised hand, while Hansol watches with a concerned frown.

Silently, you grab the wipes from the shelf and walk over to begin cleaning at Chan’s skin. He calms as he feels the paint being washed from his hands.

“Oh, it’s the paint,” Seungkwan realises with a soft exhale.

“Mm, he doesn’t like slimy textures,” you inform.

“I know he doesn’t like actual slime, but we’ve never tried paints, so I didn’t realise it counts.”

“He likes painting but it’s better with those paint sticks so there’s less chance of getting on his skin.”

“Ah, I’ll order some,” Seungkwan says and finally notices Seungcheol standing a little behind you. “Oh, Coups, you’re back early for lunch today.”

“Mm, decided to give myself the rest of the day off, which means you get it off too and we’ll take over, once we’ve both showered, that is.” He motions between himself and you.

“Both showered?” Seungkwan smirks at his boss, who scowls in return, making the younger snigger. “Alright, alright, you two can take over after you’ve showered.”

“Separately,” Seungcheol adds, making you look at him curiously and notice how he’s almost glaring at Seungkwan, who you find grinning when you look at him. You don’t quite understand what’s going on between the pair right now, though quickly decide to ignore it and instead turn back to finish cleaning up your brother.

“Yeah? Then why are you still standing there as if you’re waiting to go together? Your rooms are on opposite ends of the floor.”

“Shut up. I’ll be back quickly.”

“You’re going to come paint with me, daddy?” Hansol asks, then begins to bounce excitedly when his father nods in confirmation; it makes Seungcheol’s ire melt away and a smile lifts his features seeing how happy his son is to spend time together.

“I’ll be right back, ‘kay, bud?”

“Kay!” Hansol agrees and turns to hop back to his easel and splat his hand into the paint tray to smear colours over his paper, turning it an even murkier brown than his efforts already have.

Seungcheol pulls a slight face at the mess his son is making, knowing he’s going to have to try and get him to paint a legible picture, or get equally as messy himself, before turning and leaving while mentally reminding himself to not wear clothes he wants to keep paint free.

Once you’ve got Chan cleaned up and back on his feet, he glares distrustfully at Seungkwan when the man tries to encourage him back to his own easel.

“We can be extra careful now that I know you don’t like how paint feels, Squirt,” Seungkwan promises, yet Chan steps closer to you as if you’re going to protect him from the mean man and his slimy paints.

“Why don’t you sit and watch Solie paint for now and when I’m back, we’ll try it together, hm?” You say to Chan softly while patting his hips gently in encouragement. He looks at you. “We can paint the sea, how about that? With some nice blues and greens and when it’s dry, we can display it in our room, yeah?” Chan looks much more enthusiastic now that you’ve mentioned the sea and nods. “Okay, good, you sit down and watch, I’ll be back soon, okay?” Another nod before he toddles over to sit on the floor near his own easel yet watches Hansol.

“One day I’ll remember the sea is his weakness,” Seungkwan muses. You laugh softly and get up. “Enjoy your shower, Pearl!” He sing-songs as you leave the room, earning a puzzled look from you that he just giggles at before turning and jolting forward to stop Hansol squirting red paint directly from the bottle onto his picture.

By the time you’re back in the playroom, Seungcheol is already present and to your surprise, he’s not kneeling with his son, who is on brown mess number four, but behind Chan. Your brother is standing with his back to Seungcheol’s chest and his tiny hand in the man’s while Seungcheol carefully helps Chan brush blue over his paper, only a little paint on his brush at a time to minimise the risk of paint splattering onto Chan’s skin.

Seungkwan is nowhere to be seen, and you think it’s the first time you’ve seen Seungcheol alone with both boys, but you really don’t mind that the nanny left. Although Seungcheol hasn’t spent anywhere near as much time with Chan, you trust him entirely with your brother.

Seungcheol looks at you when you near them. “Hope you don’t mind I started Squirt off without you, Kwan said you plan to paint the sea with him.”

“Not at all, you’re doing a great job together,” you enthuse and brush back Chan’s hair from his eyes. He looks at you with a proud grin that makes you smile back. “How about you keep painting, and I’ll see if Solie wants to expand his palette past brown?”

“Is that okay, Squirt?” Seungcheol asks Chan softly. “That I stay with you?” Chan thinks about it for a second while glancing at the man behind him yet nods as soon as he looks at their progress in front of them. It makes Seungcheol beam at the quiet boy accepting his assistance despite you being right by his side and available to help. “Great, I’m really enjoying painting with you, Squirt, it’s really nice.” Seungcheol continues to talk softly to Chan while you walk over and kneel down beside where Hansol stands.

“So, what are we doing here, Sol?” You wonder.

“I want to make a rainbow, but it keeps going brown,” Hansol admits with a disappointed sigh. “Uncle Kwan doesn’t understand and keeps drawing a rainbow for me to paint over but it’s not what I want.”

“You want it all swirled together?”

“Yeah!” Hansol nods. “But it goes brown every time.” The sigh he lets out is world weary verging on frustrated. “I don’t understand, Aunt Pearl.”

It’s the first time Hansol has called you aunt, and it throws you off for a moment. You can’t help but glance over your shoulder to see if Seungcheol heard, but he’s focused on what he’s doing, and you don’t want to distract him from Chan, so you turn back to Hansol. “If you over blend, it’ll go brown; it’s what happens when you mix all the colours together, basically.”

“Oh. So, I can’t make a swirly rainbow?” Hansol pouts at you sadly. “I wanted to make it for Uncle Gyu for his gift.”

“Gift?”

“Mm, it’s his birthday today.”

“Oh, I didn’t know that” you admit.

“He doesn’t like presents other than things I make.”

“Ah, I see.”

“And Squirt. I asked Uncle Gyu in secret, and he said he would love a picture from Squirt too if he wants to make him one, so we been trying. But” he sighs heavily and looks back at his brown, almost dripping paper. “It’s all crap.”

“Hansol!” Seungcheol scolds, proving that he has been listening, even if not consciously, so he must’ve heard his son call you aunt and just not cared. It makes you feel like they really have accepted you into the family the group has here, and your heart warms in your chest.

“What?!” Hansol replies, looking at his dad with big, genuinely innocent eyes. “At least I didn’t say shit!” You can’t help it, you start to laugh, making Hansol giggle proudly while Seungcheol sighs exasperatedly behind you.

“Please don’t laugh, Pearl, now he’s going to think it’s funny to swear and I don’t want him picking up that bad habit. Especially so young,” Seungcheol reasons.

“You’re right, you’re right,” you concede, trying to stop your laughter, though a few giggles still slip through while Hansol continues to grin at you with sparkling eyes. “Swearing is bad, Solie, you’re far too young to have the habit. At least wait until you’re ten.”

“Pearl!” Seungcheol exclaims, making you and Hansol burst into giggles while the man dramatically lets out a breath then turns his attention solely to Chan. “You’re the only one I can rely on to be good mannered, Squirt. Don’t take after your sister and Hansol.” Chan blinks at Seungcheol a few times then turns back to his painting with a little urging sound while moving their connected hands back to the paper. “Okay,” Seungcheol chuckles softly. “We’ll focus on our masterpiece and those delinquents can do their own thing.”

“Alright,” you start when you’ve stopped laughing and moved closer to Hansol. “Let’s clean all this up so we can start fresh and make Uncle Gyu the best swirly rainbow he’s ever seen.”

“Hell yeah!” Hansol cheers. Seungcheol sighs.

“Hey,” Jisoo greets softly as he sits at your side on the bench at the side of the playground, where you’re watching Seungcheol and the two boys play after lunch.

They’re probably burning off all the calories they consumed not even twenty minutes ago, but you don’t mind. The three look so happy that you know Junhui won’t even mind having to make them snacks so soon after lunch.

“Hi,” you respond, smiling at the man a little before looking forward again.

He doesn’t say anything more, just watches the three with something a little longing in his eyes. You don’t know Jisoo that well; he’s probably around the manor the least as one of the leading paediatric doctors at the busiest public hospital in the area, while also being at Seungcheol’s beck and call as Centaur’s secret private doctor. Jisoo is always busy, but when you get the chance to see him, you often find him quietly watching Hansol with this same look in his eyes.

Although it’s not really your place, you can’t help but let your curiosity win out. “Do you want your own?” You wonder, glancing between the man on your left and the three darting around the apparatus with their feet slapping over the rubber tarmac rapidly and laughter in the air.

“Hm?” Jisoo hums questioning while looking at you, so you motion over to the three.

“Kids, I’ve noticed you look at Hansol that way a lot.”

“Oh, I didn’t realise I’m that obvious.” He chuckles and lets his gaze find the seven-year-old again, so you copy. “I don’t necessarily want my own, no.”

“Oh.”

“Do you know about Hansol’s mother?”

That makes you look back at him intrigued. “No, nobody has ever mentioned her.”

“She was my best friend. We came here together from LA almost ten years ago. She wanted to study Korean cuisine; she loved to cook and wanted to open her own restaurant and I…I was so in love with her that I didn’t want to be without her, so I applied to study medicine here and as soon as I got accepted, we came over.”

“Oh…I assume you didn’t get together.”

“No,” he smiles at you a little then turns back to watch the three play and you turn too, figuring you’ve probably been staring at him for too long, especially for such a personal topic. “I wasn’t brave enough to ever tell her how I felt and at the time, I always assumed she didn’t know. But I learned with time that she always knew, just never cared.”

“That doesn’t sound like you were her best friend, even if she was yours.”

Jisoo lets out a short, soft laugh. “You’re right; I was just so infatuated that I didn’t realise that it was always me making the effort and caring more.”

“What a bitch.”

“Mm, she was, but you know what they say about hindsight.”

“No?” You look at him confusedly and seeing you turn to him in his periphery, he looks at you.

“Hindsight is 20/20.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means that everything is clearer after the fact. Like 20/20 vision.”

“Oh, that makes sense,” you murmur and turn back around. He does the same. “How did she become, well, Hansol’s mother?”

“She worked at a restaurant Coups frequented, and they hit it off. I tried to keep her away from him; I knew he was bad news just from the like, aura or whatever but she was into it. Which shouldn’t have surprised me; she had terrible taste in guys in high school; always went for assholes.”

“Seungcheol isn’t an asshole.”

“No, he’s not, but I didn’t know that. I never gave him the chance and treated him harshly and dismissively. He just mirrored it back to me and often teased me by silently rubbing it in my face that he had her; putting his hands all over her, kissing her way too inappropriately for public settings.” He chuckles. “And again, I completely missed that she clearly knew what he was doing and why and always went along with a pleased giggle. I just thought she was giggling because she liked it, not that she liked flaunting that she was fucking someone that wasn’t me.”

“She just wanted your attention,” you understand, and he hums in confirmation. “And then I assume she got pregnant along there.”

“Yeah. Coups put her up in a safe house to protect her and keep the baby secret and she played along; fooled us both that she wanted it and wanted to marry him when he asked. But then two months after Hansol was born, she left. Confessed she never wanted to have the baby but doesn’t believe in abortion, so she played along; let Coups think she loved him while planning to leave the entire time.”

“She played you both?” You gawp at him, and he just nods in confirmation. “I think I hate her.”

Jisoo laughs and looks at you. “I know you say that for Coup’s benefit, but I’m taking it as you’re on my side too.”

“I am,” you assure without hesitation, making his eyebrows lift slightly in surprise. “I don’t really know you, but you seem like a nice guy, sweet; you don’t deserve to be treated so poorly. I hope that’s where you realised what a bitch she is and kicked her aside.”

“I wish I had been that smart,” he gives you a sad little smile. “I asked her to stay with me because I loved her and couldn’t live without her. I was in the middle of my studying and couldn’t leave. My family put all they had into my education, and I couldn’t disappoint them by wasting their money to follow her back to LA. I even said I’d return with her the second I could get a transfer, but she refused no matter how much I cried and begged. She didn’t even look upset to see me so broken and it still took me weeks of barely functioning in a country with no-one by my side before I accepted the truth.”

“That she’s a giant bitch.”

Jisoo nods. “That she’s a giant bitch,” he confirms, making you smile, which he returns before you both look back at the three. “I didn’t see Hansol for a few years until he was rushed into the ER while I was on rotation, and he was suffering his first allergic reaction. That was when I finally realised that Coups is not a bad guy; when I saw him stay beside Hansol’s bedside all through the night without rest and refused to take his son away until he had been triple checked over. I’ve stuck around since, but sometimes when I look at Hansol, I see her and it hurts, even now.”

“That fucking sucks.”

Jisoo chokes out a laugh at your response, though makes a noise of agreement. “Yeah, it does fucking suck. But I love that boy and I’m so grateful that Coups lets me be his godfather and uncle and live under the same roof despite it all.”

“He’s a good man.”

“He really is. You’re good for him, you know?”

“What?” You give him a bewildered look. “How?”

“He’s always been a great dad; I truly couldn’t deny it even if I wanted to. I’ve never seen a parent love their child so fiercely, but up until the past few months, he hasn’t been in the house as much. He gets home a lot earlier now, puts Hansol to bed pretty much every night and it’s done them both the world of good. Hansol’s a generally happy kid, but he used to have a lot of days where he was quiet and withdrawn because he missed his dad; cried for hours, but now he doesn’t get the chance to miss him.”

“Oh, that’s good then, I’m glad I can apparently do that.”

“Me too. He’s happier too, Coups, I mean. I don’t know what you’ve been doing but keep it up. A happy boss means we’re all happier,” he jokes and pats your hand on your thigh before he gets up. “I’ll see you tomorrow, I’ve got a late surgery tonight.”

“Oh, I hope it goes well.”

“Thank you, Pearl, I hope it does too.” He smiles at you gratefully before walking off inside.

A few minutes later, Chan rushes over to you with his hands clasped in front of his crotch. “Wee,” he declares, so you get up and take him to the closest bathroom so that he can use the toilet. “Per,” he calls as he sits on the toilet, swinging his legs while you wait just outside of the cracked open door to give him privacy to do his business.

“Yeah, baby?” You ask, peering over at him.

“I like Sunny,” he informs simply, making you smile knowing exactly who he means for the fact he calls one person Sunny due to struggling to say his name.

“You like Seungcheol?” He nods in confirmation. “Me too, Squirt.”

“Sunny like us too?”

“Yeah, he likes us too.”

“And Solie?”

“Solie likes us, yeah.”

“I like Solie lots.”

“Good, I’m glad.”

He wiggles off of the toilet when he’s done, so you turn back around and wait for him to finish the routine, smiling as he sings to himself while washing his hands to make sure he washes them for a sufficient amount of time.

When you hear him nearing, you push off of the doorframe to give him space to exit the bathroom without opening the door wider. Silently, he takes your hand and the two of you walk to the backdoor to put your boots back on.

“Per?” Chan asks when you’re tying your own boots while he waits with his own already zipped up securely. You hum questioningly. “I sleepover Solie?”

You look at your brother in surprise. “You want to have a sleepover with Solie?”

“Solie said we sleep in his bed and watch Nemo.”

“Oh,” you smile in understanding, knowing that mentioning Chan’s favourite movie is a very persuasive way to get the six-year-old to agree to almost anything. “I think it would be nice for you to have your first sleepover with someone other than me.”

“Oh, no Per?”

“No, baby, just you and Solie.” He frowns uncertainly. “I can see if there is a room I can stay in near to Solie’s bedroom, so I’ll be close by.”

“Per stay close to Squirt.”

“You’ll be safe even if I’m not there, we’re safe here, aren’t we?”

“Safe with Sunny.”

“Yeah, baby, we’re safe with Sunny.”

“I like Sunny.” You can’t help but laugh softly before taking his hand and going outside.

Seungcheol is sprawled over the bench catching his breath while his son bounces away on the trampoline, higher than he ever does with Chan knowing that the younger doesn’t like anything but essentially bobbing on the trampoline.

“Tired out?” You tease as you lean on the back of the bench and peer down at Seungcheol while Chan happily rushes over to stand in wait at the side of the trampoline for Hansol, before they both run to the slides; Chan’s favourite playground activity and one Hansol is always more than willing to indulge his best friend with, no matter how many times they go up and down.

“I think I’m officially getting old, sweetheart,” Seungcheol declares, making you laugh before you circle around the bench. “Just sit on me, I’m too tired to move.”

With a shrug, you sit on his thighs sideways with your feet just touching the ground, and he gawps at you. “You told me to,” you reason.

“I didn’t expect you actually would.”

“Oh, is this one of those things where people say things they don’t actually mean for some bizarre fucking reason?” You mutter and start to get up, but Seungcheol abruptly sits up and winds his arm around your waist to keep you on his lap.

“My lap is always available for you,” he declares.

“It’s a sturdy lap,” you comment and pat the side of his thigh between the gap in your own, making him chuckle. He swings his legs around to plant his feet on the floor while turning you until your back is against his chest and his chin is on your shoulder.

You’ve not been held like this in a long time, and even then, it hadn’t made your stomach flutter with butterflies, just twist with disgust at the touch of the men you had to lure. There wasn’t a choice but to let those men touch you back then, but you know that Seungcheol would let you go without complaint if you said you didn’t want him to touch you.

That security is probably why you lean back against his chest and let your arms lay over his, other than your rapidly growing feelings for the man, of course. Those definitely influence your decision to get comfortable in his hold and hope that he can’t feel the way your heart skips a beat or two when he tightens his grasp on you to hold you even closer.

For a little while, you sit in a peaceful quiet, contently watching the two boys make laps with the slides and smiling hearing them giggling away together happily.

Then, you remember what Chan had said and figure this is a good time to bring it up. “Chan said Solie asked him to have a sleepover,” you inform.

“Oh, yeah, he’s been bugging me to let it happen as if I would ever say no. I just kept saying it’s not my decision but Squirt’s and somehow Sol took that as I haven’t said yes and kept asking until I agreed this morning.”

“You hadn’t. If you just said that he needs to ask Chan, then you hadn’t actually given him explicit permission so asking Chan wouldn’t make logical sense until he knows for certain that you’re okay with it.”

“Oh. I didn’t think of it like that. Alright, I see the point and will try to remember to be more explicit in the future.”

“And here I thought you don’t want him swearing,” you joke, then start to giggle when he thunks his head against yours in playful scolding.

“Does Chan want to have a sleepover?”

“He wants to try, I think, especially as Solie said they can watch Nemo.”

“Ah, the way to the little turtle’s heart,” Seungcheol replies with an understanding hum.

“Yep, but he didn’t realise I wouldn’t be there. I said I can see if there’s an empty room near Solie’s I can stay in, so I’ll be close.”

“Ah, I’m afraid there isn’t. We’re at the end of the hall opposite each other and Kwan is on one side to him and it’s a storage room next to mine, then the other guys follow those rooms.”

“Oh.”

“Well, you could stay in my room though.” You look at him as if he’s crazy. “I didn’t mean with me!” He defends while straightening up. “I can sleep in another room for the night, and you can have mine.”

“I’m not taking over your room, Seungcheol.”

“It’s just for a night and if it makes Chan more comfortable so they can have their first sleepover, I really don’t mind.”

“No, that would mean you’re away from Hansol too, I refuse to do that.”

“Ah, right. I mean, I’m pretty sure he’d be okay, I’ve spent nights away before so it’s not like he’s never had a night without me. I don’t know how I’d sleep though; I never sleep well in beds that aren’t mine, or at least if I’m alone in them.”

“Well then, you definitely have to keep your own bed.”

“Mm…what if…and I’m not being a pervert before you say as much, but my bed is fucking huge, seriously, it’s ridiculously big I hate changing the fucking sheets so it’s the only reason I let the staff in to my room-”

“Does that mean you clean your own room and don’t have a woman do it, Seungcheol?” Your teasing jibe earns an unimpressed look from the man, which you giggle at.

“One day you’ll let that go.”

“Never.” You grin as he sighs. “So, what were you saying, anyway?”

“We could have our own sleepover,” he suggests timidly and bites on his bottom lip before continuing to talk while you stare at him blankly. “J-just like, because then we’re both right opposite the boys’ room and so they know where we are and we know where they are and they can enjoy their first sleepover with another kid, and my bed is big enough that we will have plenty of space without even touching, like another two grown adults could fit between us and we’d still not fall off the edges.”

“That sounds like an unnecessarily big bed, Seungcheol.”

He lets out a breath you hadn’t noticed he was holding. “Yeah, it kinda is. Comfortable as fuck though so I’m keeping it until it’s ruined.”

“That should take some time, in theory, unless you piss the bed.”

Seungcheol sputters. “I don’t…Hansol has a few times though, but it’s been thoroughly cleaned since then and I’ve invested in really good mattress protectors, it should last.”

“Good to know,” you murmur and turn back around to watch the boys, still going up and down the slides.

Honestly, just watching the repetitive play bores you so you have no idea how Hansol happily goes along with it when he’s usually so easily bored. Even you would’ve asked Chan to play something else by now, but Hansol just cheers when Chan jumps off the bottom of the slide then races him around to the steps.

“Jisoo told me about Hansol’s mother,” you announce gently, aware that it’s likely a touchy subject.

“Oh, I wondered what you two were talking about,” he admits with a sigh while his arms tighten ever so slightly around you. “It’s kinda a sore subject, that betrayal, and I wish Hansol had grown up knowing a loving mother but I’m glad she left before he could form memories of her.”

“Does he know she won’t come back?”

“Oh, yeah, definitely. I didn’t want him asking over someone who isn’t worthy of the title of mother, so I told him as soon as he was old enough to understand that she isn’t a nice person and we’re far better off without her.”

“And he accepts that?”

“Mm, yeah, why? Has he said something about her to you?”

“No,” you assure and pat his hand on your waist gently. “Today was the first time anyone has ever mentioned her. I was just wondering about what you said of him asking to have a little brother.” You motion to the pair loosely. “I wondered if he was hoping she’d be back so you can give him a sibling.”

“Oh, nah, he really doesn’t care about her at all. I asked where he expects me to get him a little brother and he said the same place I got him.”

“His mother?”

“I said that, and he pulled a face and said find another mother.” Seungcheol chuckles. “As if it’s that simple.”

“Are you still in love with her?”

He scoffs harshly. “No fucking way, that bitch can rot for all I care.”

“But you haven’t found someone else since?”

“Never been interested. I already have my son; I don’t need another child and he’s my whole life. Outside of him, I work, and that’s it. I really don’t want to have a relationship with any of the women I meet through work, well…those women aren’t of interest to me. Most of them try to get my attention thinking it’ll give them status.”

“And the other women? Who don’t want to use you?”

“Gay.” The way he says it makes you laugh. “Lesbians seem to love me, just not in that way,” he jokes with what essentially sounds like a giggle. It’s very cute.

“That does limit your options then,” you muse, giggling along with him.

“Mm, how about you?”

“Oh, I have no idea what lesbians think of me.”

Seungcheol laughs and lowers his head to put his face against your shoulder, even if the material must be cold against his skin. “I imagine lesbians are very interested in you as much as straight men are.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever met a lesbian, so I can’t comment on that.”

“I’d say I’d introduce you to one, but I don’t want to.”

“That’s a bit possessive of you,” you mutter, giving him a look when his head jerks up to look at you with wide, innocent eyes. “Keeping all the lesbians to yourself like that.”

He relaxes and snorts a laugh while rolling his eyes. “What do you care whether I do or don’t, huh?” Though suddenly, his eyes are wide again and looking at you a little alarmed. “Wait, are…are you a lesbian?”

“Would it matter if I were?”

“Uh…I’m not homophobic or anything.”

“That didn’t answer my question. Would it bother you if I am a lesbian, Seungcheol?”

“Uh…”

“It would?” Your eyebrows lift in surprise. “How can you claim to not be homophobic yet be bothered by that?”

“Are you?” He whispers, expression starting to pinch a little.

“No.”

He lets out a breath and nods before turning you back around properly to face the boys where they’re still playing on the slides. “I think Chan could do this all day,” he comments before you can say anything more about the previous subject. Although you don’t really understand what just happened in that conversation, he’s being so evasive that you don’t push it. The last thing you want is to piss the man off by pushing him when he clearly doesn’t want to talk.

So instead, you just hum vaguely and remain quiet, stewing in your own thoughts and mild frustration at not understanding, while watching over the boys.

Although there is technically plenty of time after dinner for the boys to play more, they’re both beyond excited about their sleepover, so while Seungcheol takes Hansol to give him his bath and get ready for bed, you take Chan to your room to do the same.

“Per sleepover Sunny?” Chan checks, repeating the question for the nth time as he prods the toy floating in the water in front of him.

“Yes, Channie, I’m going to have a sleepover with Seungcheol while you have yours with Hansol. We will be across the hall all night,” you remind him patiently, knowing that he needs a lot of reassurance for such a big change in routine.

“We watch Nemo. What Per and Sunny watch?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” you respond honestly to the new question; it’s a good sign that your reassurances are settling in Chan’s mind and becoming less of a need. “I don’t know if Seungcheol has a TV in his room.”

“Watch Nemo with us.”

“It’s okay, you and Solie can watch Nemo and Seungcheol and I will talk or something.”

“And bedtime cuddles?” He wonders, looking at you. “I have cuddles?”

“I’m sure Solie will give you cuddles, should I ask him for you?”

“But want cuddle you.” He frowns. “Want Per cuddles.”

“Well, how about I watch some of the movie with you and we can have cuddles, but I’ll go after the sharks?”

“Mm, then Solie cuddles?”

“Sure, baby, I’ll ask Solie to give you cuddles when I leave.”

“Okay,” he agrees and turns back to his toys.

Once Chan is out of the bath and contently playing on the bed wrapped up in his towel to let him dry off naturally and not irritate his sensitive skin, you tie your hair up out of the way and quickly hop in the shower to scrub paint flecks from your forearms and wash over the rest of your body before getting dressed.

To your surprise, Chan isn’t on the bed anymore when you exit the bathroom but standing on the floor pulling his pyjama bottoms up his legs, the shirt already on his body and partially buttoned from how you left it when you took it off him last time.

It’s the first time Chan has tried to dress himself so calmly. Usually, he’s already frustrated by now after getting his limbs in the wrong holes, but he looks determined as his tiny hands work on snapping the elastic of his trousers against his hips just like you do to make him giggle. You smile to yourself seeing him copying your little quirks, even if he doesn’t find his own actions giggle-worthy.

When Chan’s hands move to the front of his shirt, you honestly almost cry. Buttons, zips, and any fastenings other than Velcro have always been so difficult for him, too fiddly for him to navigate and the reason you never bought him anything that used any while you were homeless, so that he still had some independence despite having had to be glued to your side all of the time.

But Seungkwan has gained the habit of buying the boys matching clothes and the pair always look so happy and cute when they’re wearing identical clothing that you never try to argue and are always happy to help Chan get himself dressed and undressed for the sake of his and Hansol’s joy.

Yet today, today your precious little brother devotes his entire focus on painstakingly threading the little plastic circles through the slits. It takes some time, a handful of minutes per button, but he gets three out of four buttons through the openings before realising there isn’t another one for the topmost button. He’s confused for a second and doesn’t realise he’s threaded them in the wrong holes but then he lights up and bounces on his toes while his hands flap at his side.

“Did it! I did it!” He exclaims to himself then looks up intending to run to the bathroom to show you yet finds you already in the bedroom, so he stays in his place and his movements grow bigger, seeing you smiling and looking so fucking proud of him. “Look, Per! I did it!”

“You did,” you reply almost breathlessly then walk over to kneel in front of him and gently cup his beaming features. “I’m so proud of you, Chan.”

“I proud too!”

“Good, you should be,” you approve and lean forward to kiss his forehead. “I love you so much, my clever little brother.”

“I love you, my clever big sister.” He darts forward to hug you, squeezing you tighter than necessary due to all the joy running through his limbs, but you don’t mind and just squeeze him back with another kiss on his slightly damp hair.

“We need to get haircuts soon,” you comment as he backs up to bounce over to the bed and grab his turtle to squeeze and wriggle happily.

“No,” he complains, pouting at you and falling still. “No touch my hair!”

“I know you don’t like it, baby, neither do I, but both of us need a haircut before we get annoyed with our hair.”

“Per cut it?”

“I mean, I can, but it’ll not be very pretty.”

“Don’t care. Per only touch my hair.”

“Okay, okay, I’ll ask someone to get some hairdressing scissors for me and we’ll do it soon.”

“And Per hair too?”

“Uh, yeah sure, why not?” You shrug. “I’ll cut my own hair too; there must be video tutorials for cutting your own hair.” Chan just nods in approval and returns to smiling happily as he gallops over to you and tugs on your hand to signal you to get up.

As soon as you’re on your feet, he’s dragging you out of the bedroom and you let him, even if you know he’s left his damp towel on the bed so it’s going to ruin the bedding, but that’s a problem for the morning. Right now, it’s all about Chan.

Neither you nor Chan have actually been near Hansol’s and Seungcheol’s rooms before, you haven’t had a reason to until now, so you’re both a little hesitant as you near the end of the hall and can hear Hansol and Seungcheol talking in the left-hand room.

“Hurry, daddy! I want it to be a surprise ready!” Hansol encourages.

“Bud, I’m going as fast as I can,” Seungcheol reasons. You stop and lower to a crouch to keep Chan still and signal him to be quiet while he pouts confusedly at you.

“Well go faster!”

“Hansol,” Seungcheol warns. “I know you’re excited for your first sleepover, but you still need to be respectful, okay?”

“Sorry, daddy.”

“Good boy. How about you set the movie up while I finish this, yeah?”

“Okay!”

You wait patiently, even with Chan still sulking at you in your arms for making him wait, until you hear Seungcheol declare it’s finished and Hansol claps and cheers excitedly.

“It’s perfect, daddy! Thank you!” There’s a little ‘oof’ from Seungcheol as you assume Hansol has thrown himself at his father in an enthusiastic hug, before the man chuckles softly.

“You’re welcome, baby. Do you want me to stay for a bit or leave you alone?”

“Can you stay? I’m a little nervous, what if Squirt doesn’t like my room?”

“I’m sure he will, you’ve even got your sea light out for him.”

Chan wiggles in your hold at the mention of a sea light and you know you can’t make him wait anymore so you get up while releasing him, giggling as he scrambles forward and pops into the room.

“Squirt!” Hansol shrieks and runs over to hug Chan just as you cross the threshold into the bedroom. You smile seeing the two boys embracing with matching grins, and pyjamas, and look over at Seungcheol to see that he’s looking at them just as fondly from where he’s sprawled over his son’s large bed comfortably. Now, you notice what Seungcheol must’ve been doing.

Dangling from the ceiling to half cover the bed are a few sheets, attached to the ceiling with grey duct tape, making you wince a little at the thought of the strong tape pulling the paint from the ceiling when it’s removed, but Seungcheol clearly doesn’t care and can easily afford to have the ceilings redone for the sake of his son’s happiness.

In amongst the sheets, you can just about make out the sight of some fish stickers stuck onto the fabric and your heart only grows bigger and warmer with love for Hansol and his clear adoration for your brother.

It’s not technically true, but you think Hansol is the best big brother Chan could ever have.

“Look, Squirt!” Hansol encourages, taking Chan’s tiny hand in his slightly bigger one to lead him to the bed and help him up onto it before climbing up too.

Chan looks at Seungcheol before crawling over to lay at his side, making Seungcheol’s whole expression melt as he stares at the quiet little boy, who is already looking at the stickers he’s spotted. He makes an excited noise and points up to them.

“Yeah! Fishies!” Hansol cheers and starts to tug on the hanging sheets, but his dad makes a noise, stopping the boy and gets up himself to pull the sheets around the bed most of the way so that Hansol doesn’t accidentally pull them down.

“Come on, sweetheart,” Seungcheol encourages, motioning to the space on Hansol’s right, so you wander over and climb up onto the bed and finish pulling the sheet around the bed carefully.

The sheets are too thin to entirely block out the light from the copious lamps Hansol has in his room instead of using the main overhead lights, but it does dull it a little and makes the space oddly cosy.

“Look, there’s turtles and jellies and sharks and starfish and…” Hansol goes on pointing out all the different types of fish stickers over the sheets looking down on you all while Chan follows along with wide eyes glued to wherever the older boy points and his mouth parted in wonder.

A tap on your head makes you look up at Seungcheol where he’s propped up on his elbow on the pillow and his arm across it above the boys’ heads so that his hand is above your own head. “Is he okay with the dark?” He whispers to not disturb the boys. You nod. “Are you?” Another nod so Seungcheol smiles and grabs his phone and another little device from the bed behind him. He taps around on his phone and the lamps outside of the sheets all go off.

Chan gasps and starts to panic not having expected it, wriggling around ready to crawl over to you, but Hansol puts his hand on Chan’s chest to pat his fingers against the younger’s torso while making soothing sounds. “It’s okay, Squirt, it’s okay, daddy turned them off from his phone. It’s okay, he’s going to turn on something really cool, just lay with Solie, okay?” Hansol shuffles closer to Chan to put his arm around him and hold him, much like you imagine his father has done to him many times to soothe him. It works and Chan settles back down, tiny hands gripping onto Hansol’s sleeve and feet rubbing together restlessly but otherwise he’s perfectly still in wait.

A few seconds of Seungcheol fumbling with the device later, gentle blue light comes out of one end, and when you look at the sheets, you see a sea effect projected onto the material. The light moves in time with the gentle rolling sound of the waves coming from the device, simulating being underwater. Although you know it’s entirely for Chan’s benefit, you find yourself instantly soothed and curl up a little as your eyes track the shadows of the waves above you.

“Do you like it, Squirt?” Hansol whispers after a few seconds. You don’t need to look at your brother to know he’s nodding in awed agreement. “Good. Daddy bought me the light when I used to cry a lot, to help me calm down, but I don’t cry all the time anymore so you can have it if you want. I know you like the sea and fishes. We can get a tent and cover it in fishie stickers and put comfy pillows and blankies and the light and it will be nice, right, to lay in and watch and be like swimming with the fishies, right?”

Then, the one thing you were positive wouldn’t happen, at least not for a long time does, your little brother speaks. “Fishies,” he says softly. Hansol gasps, but he doesn’t say anything more and just holds Chan tighter with a bright smile on his face.

You can only handle it for a few seconds longer before you kiss each boy on the head, earning another beam from Hansol as you’ve never kissed him before, and he clearly loves the affection, before you quietly slip out from the sheets and leave the room.

In the hallway, you slide your back down the wall until you’re crouching with your face in your hands as you cry silently.

You’re only alone for a few seconds before familiar hands touch your arms gently, then you’re pulled in against Seungcheol’s firm chest as he holds you tight on his crossed legs in the middle of the corridor to let you grip onto his t-shirt and cry against his shoulder.

To your relief, Seungcheol doesn’t say a word at all, he just holds you and makes the occasional soft, soothing sound as his hands gently pat and stroke your arm and back. It’s easy to see where Hansol has picked up his calming habits, and it makes you choke out a small giggle, spotting the clear connection between father and son.

“Are you laughing?” The man questions in a puzzled mumble. You nod against his shoulder while giggling harder at his confusion. “So just to clarify, this isn’t sad crying?”

“N-no.”

“Oh, thank fuck,” he relaxes. “I mean, you can cry if you’re sad; you’re allowed to be sad and feel your emotions and all that, but seriously, I don’t think I would know what to do if you’re sad.”

“This is nice,” you answer with a few sniffles as you motion to how he’s holding you protectively in his strong arms in the circle of his thighs, making you feel nothing but safe.

“So, if you get sad, I can just hold you and let you cry and that’s enough?” You nod in confirmation. “Okay, I can do that,” he declares with determination in his voice, making you giggle again. “As much as I think your giggles are fucking adorable, I’m really confused right now, sweetheart. Why the tears?”

“I just got overwhelmed, but in a good way. I think it’s the first time I’ve been overwhelmed and it’s not a negative thing.”

“Oh, because of the boys?”

You hum and nod, watching your hand as you smooth out the creases you made in his t-shirt at the centre of his chest. “I never thought he’d trust anyone enough to talk to them, but Hansol has given him a safe space and…” you take a shaky breath in as tears prickle at your eyes again. “It just makes me so happy that Chan has him, he loves him so much.”

“It’s mutual, Sol adores his little Squirt,” Seungcheol adds, tilting his head to rest against the top of yours. “I’m really happy you came to us, sweetheart, both of you. You…you make us both so fucking happy, I don’t think we’ve been this happy before.”

“Us either.”

“You’ll stay, won’t you? Even after the Vultures are dealt with and it’s safe for you to be out there, have your name out there without being hunted down, you’ll stay?”

“There’s nowhere I’d rather be.”

He lets out a relieved breath before turning his head to press a kiss atop your head. “Me either.”

“Your ass probably wishes we were somewhere different right now though,” you muse, making him snort out a laugh as he straightens up.

“You just ruined a really heartfelt moment,” he points out, though he doesn’t sound at all upset about it and unwinds his arms from you, allowing you both to get to your feet. “Come on, they’re alright without us for a bit, let’s freshen you up a little,” he suggests, though the way he takes your hand into his and leads you into his room as he talks gives away that he isn’t really giving you an option.

You peer around the huge bedroom as you cross through, but you don’t really get to take it in, not that it looks like there’s that much to take in anyway, as he guides you into his ensuite and flicks the light on.

A surprised squeak leaves your lips when he abruptly turns and picks you up to plop onto the counter beside the sink. He smirks at you amusedly for a second then walks over to the unit to grab a face cloth.

“You don’t need to manhandle me, you could’ve just asked,” you scold as you shuffle to get comfortable and lean back against the mirror behind you while your feet swing from side to side contently.

“You would’ve questioned why I’m asking you to sit on the counter.”

You don’t respond for a second as you stubbornly refuse to acknowledge that he’s right. As he approaches you with the little cloth in hands, he’s got that smug smirk back on his lips, making you sigh. “Okay, yeah, I would’ve but that’s because there’s no logical reason for me to need to be sitting on the counter right now.”

“Then why didn’t you get down?”

“You put me here, you want me here for a reason, even if you haven’t said what that reason is.”

“To look after you.”

Your eyebrows furrow slightly as you watch him wet the cloth under the running cold water. “I’m capable of looking after myself; I’ve been doing it for twenty years at least.”

“I know you’re capable, I’m not refuting that, sweetheart, but everyone deserves to be looked after too.”

“Then who looks after you?”

“The guys all do in different ways; by helping me stay sane at work, making sure I don’t overwork myself, looking after my son so that I know he’s safe and I’m not constantly worrying about him.”

“And who holds you when you cry?”

Seungcheol pauses as he squeezes out most of the water from the washcloth. Then he shrugs and moves over in front of you to tuck one curled finger under your chin and tilt your head back a little to allow him to begin delicately dabbing the cool cloth over your tear sticky cheeks. “I don’t remember the last time I cried.”

“Oh, I cry a lot,” you confess shamelessly.

“You do?” He raises his eyebrow in surprise. “This is the first time I’ve ever seen you cry.”

“I can usually hold it off until Chan’s asleep and I can shut myself in the bathroom, so he doesn’t see. I know it’s natural and everything, I’m not ashamed of how I cry when I’m overwhelmed by things or emotions, but I still don’t want him to see and get worried.”

“I understand, I wouldn’t want Hansol to see me cry either.”

“Chan has seen me cry before, multiple times, I haven’t always had the chance to hide it, but he gets so worried and overwhelmed and tends to have a meltdown so then we’re both a mess.”

“Well, now you have me, and the other guys too, they’d all help. You can tell Chan that if you ever need help, he should come get one of us.”

“I don’t know if he would leave me without explicitly being told to get someone, and I often can’t talk when I’m overloaded.”

“You go nonverbal?”

“If it’s really bad, yeah. But I just meant the whole crying thing makes it hard to talk.”

“Ah.” He makes a noise of understanding and tosses the cloth into the sink to replace it with the hand towel on the rack to pat your skin dry. “Do you know sign language?”

“A little, and I’ve taught Chan what I know, but our dad always lost his shit when he saw us doing it, or me learning, so it just…seemed like it wasn’t worth the beatings when I knew only I would use it with him in private and he verbally talks to me anyway.”

“Your dad beat you for learning sign language when Chan doesn’t even talk?”

“At first, he was okay with it, when Chan was really little, and everyone assumed he was just delayed a little so at least a few signs would help understand what he wants until he talks. But then he blamed it on why Chan didn’t try to talk and banned anyone from giving him any of his aids or signing so that he’d be forced to talk.”

“What a piece of shit.”

“Mm, only got worse when he got diagnosed with autism and dad just…stopped loving him.” 

“I’m sorry you had to deal with a pathetic excuse of a father like that, both of you. And I’m really glad you left and you’re here now where you can both be cared for like you deserve.”

“Thanks, Seungcheol, me too.”

“You know, you don’t have to call me Seungcheol all the time.”

“Well, I’m not calling you that stupid alias,” you retort, features scrunching in distaste while he puts the towel neatly back.

He laughs, which only grows when he sees your disgusted expression. “I didn’t mean that.”

“Then what? That’s all anyone calls you, some variation of that or Mr Choi. Is that what you want me to call you?”

“Fuck no.” Now it’s Seungcheol’s features that twist in revulsion, making you giggle amusedly. “Never call me Mr Choi, I don’t even like it when people say it, but I have to leave it be with them, the whole head of the Centaurs status shit. But you, don’t you dare call me Mr Choi.”

“Well, that’s all I’ve ever heard you be addressed with. Or daddy, but if you try to get me to call you that you’ll just confirm that you’re a giant fucking pervert.”

Seungcheol lets out your name in a gasped exclamation with eyes wide and cheeks pink. “Don’t say shit like that!” You start to cackle at his extremely flustered expression. “I-I wasn’t even thinking that!”

“Now you are.”

“Please shut up.”

“Sure, daddy.” He scrambles to put his palm over your mouth as his cheeks darken. You only laugh and let him, eyes sparkling with mirth above his palm.

“Stop. I don’t…I’m not into that.” You give him the best disbelieving look you can over his hand. “I’m not!”

You move his hand away from your mouth so that you can speak. “You’re red.”

“Oh, fucking hell,” he groans and slumps down until he’s squatting in front of you and hiding in your knees. “I regret suggesting sharing my bed with you.”

“I’ll ask Kwan if he wants a sleepover then,” you decide with a shrug.

The words are barely out of your mouth before Seungcheol is up on his feet at his full height and staring at you darkly. “No.”

“You said you regret-”

“I didn’t mean that,” he puts his palms on the counter either side of your thighs, making him lean down closer to you to reach, as his intense gaze burns into your innocently blinking eyes. “You are never to have a sleepover with anyone but me, understand?”

“Why?”

“Because I said so.”

“That’s not a good reason.”

“Because I don’t want you in their beds.”

“But you want me in yours?” You reason, raising your eyebrow a little in question.

Seungcheol’s jaw clenches a little as he mulls over his answer before he responds so simply that you think it’s ridiculous both how long he takes to reply and how your stomach flips from the single, lowly spoken syllable. “Yes.”

“Oh.”

He raises an eyebrow and opens his mouth to say something more, but his son calling him stops the man in his tracks. Seungcheol lets out a soft breath before he drags his gaze over your face, eyes lingering on your parted lips, then he pushes away from the counter and leaves you sitting there with a racing heart and warmth blooming on your cheeks.

You’re not stupid, no matter what your father said about you, you are perfectly capable of understanding social cues when your mind isn’t so messy and stressed. You’ve been sent off to seduce too many men to not know what someone looking at your lips like Seungcheol just had means.

The information that Seungcheol wanted to kiss you, even if only for a moment, sends a strange feeling through your body that you’ve never felt before. It’s like anxiety and excitement rolled into one fizzling sensation throughout your veins and settling heavy in your sternum. You think that this might be what it feels like to have reasonable hope that someone likes you back.

By the time the boys fall asleep after Seungcheol has read them three books, and they’ve watched both Finding Nemo and Finding Dory tucked up in between you and the man on Hansol’s bed, that sensation in your chest has long fizzled out.

Though when you’re laid in Seungcheol’s ridiculously big bed, rubbing your feet together nervously as he showers and gets into his pyjamas in the ensuite, the bubbling in your chest returns with a vengeance.

You can’t stop thinking about what happened in the bathroom; the possessive way he had demanded you only climb into his bed, the way his intense gaze had lingered on your lips. Once you start thinking about that, it makes you consider other things he’s said and done over the past few months; how tenderly he treats you, how his cheeks frequently turn a shy pink in front of your eyes, how his touch always hovers longer than explicitly necessary when it’s on you.

For so long you’ve convinced yourself that it’s just how the man is; that he’s attentive and affectionate to all of his friends. Which isn’t even a lie because you’ve seen him lean into Jisoo when the doctor tends to his wounds, and you’ve seen him sling his arm around most of them, even plant a noisy kisses to cheeks when he’s feeling playful. But he never lingers. Not with them.

The more you think about it, the difference between how he treats you to any others, you realise the little things; how he seems to edge closer to you whenever you’re within arm’s reach until he can brush his hand against you, how he pays such close attention to you that he can sense what you need before you do sometimes, how even if he’s in the middle of yelling at his men for their mistakes, the second he sees you, the anger in his eyes melts away and the light returns to them, even just for a second before he focuses back on his job.

You don’t want to let yourself get carried away with the possibility that Seungcheol has liked you for even longer than you’ve liked him, but you’re already halfway up in the clouds by the time he returns and slips into the bed at your side despite the fact there really is no need to be so close when the mattress is so wide.

“You’re red,” he comments in a soft, teasing voice as he settles on his right side facing you, his right hand up underneath the pillow below his head and his left reaching for you under the covers to rest on your stomach.

When you turn onto your left side to face him, his hand slides over your waist to settle on your back, holding you close. You stare at him for a moment, nervously chewing your bottom lip while he watches you in wonder of what you’re thinking yet remains patiently quiet for when you’re ready to talk.

He’s always so patient, so good to you. He does so much, goes out of his way and you think that perhaps it’s time you try to return the effort.

Your hands tremble ever so slightly as you lift them between you to touch his jaw feather light. He breathes out your name in a whispered question, but he doesn’t do anything else when you crane your neck up to softly press your lips to his. You hear him inhale deeply through his nose at the delicate kiss, but before he can react otherwise, you pull away and remove your touch from his skin.

“That-that’s what you wanted earlier, r-right? In the bathroom?”

He stares at you for a moment with such a serious expression before he sighs. To your utter confusion and slight horror, his features turn down and he pulls away from you, severing all contact as he rolls onto his back and stares up at the ceiling. “Don’t do that again,” he warns quietly.

Your heart starts to crack as the rejection seeps inside and drags it down out of place towards your stomach. You really thought he wanted to kiss you, wanted you.

“I-I’m sorry,” you stammer and although you want to get up and leave before you start to cry, you’re frozen in place, body running hot and cold as the realisation that you misunderstood and fucked up runs rampant through your mind, spinning and whirling every thought up into one colossal fucking mess you can’t even try to figure out how to fix.

“Just don’t do it again, okay?”

“I’m sorry,” you repeat in a whisper that makes him sigh towards the ceiling. “I-I thought you want-”

“No, Pearl, don’t say that. You should never do shit because you think I want you to, that’s not what I want at all. I don’t want you to kiss me because it’s what you think I want. You should only kiss someone because you want to.”

“Oh.” That growing fear in your chest suddenly stops before it can spill up your throat. It doesn’t retreat, only halts in its path as you try to work your way through his words with your mind still flashing with the previous thoughts. “Can you clarify that?” You request.

“Clarify it?” He looks at you. “What do you mean?”

“It kind of sounds like you’re not against me kissing you, just that you want it to be because I want it, not that I think you do.”

“Uh.” He pauses and turns his head to face the ceiling again as he swallows thickly before he nods. “Yeah, that’s exactly what I mean. Don’t kiss me for my sake.”

“I won’t,” you promise.

“Good,” the word is barely out of his mouth in a barely audible whisper before you’re leaning up over him on your left elbow to cup his cheek, tilt his head to you and press your lips to his. A soft, alarmed noise vibrates in his throat, and he reels back to stare at you with wide eyes. “Pearl, I just said-”

“Yeah, and I said I won’t,” you remind him. “Do you really think that now I’m free of all that shit, I’d kiss someone if I don’t want to?”

“You want to kiss me?” You nod. “Oh.” Then he’s reaching up to curve his left hand around your jaw and neck as he surges in to kiss you, not a drop of hesitation left in him.

It’s not even a few seconds of kissing before he’s wrapping his arm around you to pull your body up onto his until you’re straddling him and letting his tongue into your mouth when you gasp at the sudden manhandling.

You find you don’t mind it at all when it’s Seungcheol.

“You,” Seungcheol breathes out when he drops his head back into the pillows instead of keeping it lifted to meet you easier, even if you could’ve easily lowered down to him, but it seems he forgot that to be an option.

“Me,” you reply, even more breathless than the man as you let your weight settle more firmly on his hips and lower your torso until your chests are touching.

“You’ve been driving me fucking crazy for months,” he declares and smooths his hands down from your waist to grip handfuls of your ass with a low groan. “Especially in those fucking leggings.”

“You bought them.”

“Best and worst purchase I’ve ever made. Fuck, your ass looks so good in them, baby, but all I can remember when I see how fucking tight they are, is you wondering if you can even wear underwear under them.”

“I can’t,” you inform bluntly and watch amusedly as his head tips back a little with a soft groan while his fingers curve firmer into the flesh of your ass cheeks over your clothing. “I tried, but even that tiny amount of material makes it impossible to pull the leggings up to my hips so they just bunch and make my ass bulge over the band and-” Seungcheol cuts off your explanation with a heated kiss, one hand cupping the back of your head to pull you in and the other still groping at your ass as if he’s trying to imbed his hands into your flesh so that he never has to let go.

“Well,” the sudden voice from the doorway makes you both sit up and look over in alarm not having heard anyone approach, but Mingyu is standing in the doorway looking partially amused and partially shocked. “Just came to say that we’re all going out now for drinks, so it’s just the four of you in the house.”

“Uh, right, yeah, right. Have uh-” Seungcheol starts, then has to clear his throat, so that his voice isn’t so thick and rough with arousal, so obvious that Mingyu is smirking now. “Have a good time. Happy birthday, Gyu.”

“Happy birthday,” you repeat softly.

Mingyu’s expression softens as he looks directly at you instead of his boss and smiles at you. “Thank you, Pearl.”

“Hey!” Seungcheol complains. “Don’t I get thanks?”

“You refused to let us use the card,” Mingyu defends poutily.

“Of course I’m not letting you use the fucking business card to get drunk!”

“It’s his birthday,” you reason, turning your head to look at Seungcheol. “It’d be your gift to him.”

“He doesn’t like gifts.”

“Your gift to your men for working so hard,” you correct yourself without missing a beat and hear Mingyu snort out a badly concealed laugh as Seungcheol sighs heavily.

“I can’t believe you’re fucking manipulating me like this,” Seungcheol grunts and motions vaguely to the dresser, so Mingyu scuttles over to grab Seungcheol’s wallet to grab and bring over, with an excited grin on his face as he does so.

“You’re the best,” Mingyu breathes out gratefully as Seungcheol finds out the correct card to hand over to the tall man.

“I should think so,” Seungcheol grumbles.

“I was talking to Pearl,” Mingyu points out, then giggles and jumps away as Seungcheol darts his arm out, but with you still on his lap and quickly reaching up to put your hand on his arm and stop him, the man doesn’t have the chance to hit the birthday boy. “Thanks, daddy!”

“Fuck off!” Seungcheol exclaims as Mingyu leaves the bedroom while dramatically kissing the card in his hands. “If they bankrupt me, it’s on your shoulders, sweetheart.”

“Is there not a limit on that card?”

“No, I don’t think I can set it up either, it’s one of two cards, company cards let’s say, but Seungkwan has the other explicitly to use for Hansol’s benefit and he knows he’ll be punished if I see anything suspicious on the statements.”

“Get the app up, let’s look; I know how to do all that,” you reason as you climb off his lap and sit expectantly against the pillows that you prop up at the headboard. When you’re settled and can see Seungcheol again, you find that he’s just sitting there and pouting at you. “What?”

“We were in the middle of something,” he reminds and places one hand on your thigh to squeeze a little, suggestively.

“Yes, and now I’m very aware that the door is open, and the boys can walk in any at second, so I’d rather they don’t see me naked and bouncing on your cock.”

Seungcheol gawps at you in stunned disbelief for a moment then dazedly nods and turns away to grab his phone from the side table. His movements are slow and a little stilted all the way until he’s at your side with his right arm around you and his phone in his left hand as he unlocks it.

“What?” You ask and he hums questioningly. “You went really weird there.”

“Just really fucking threw me off hearing you saying that. Didn’t expect it at all and now I’m just wondering what kinda dirty shit you’re capable of saying.”

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll find out soon enough, daddy.” He makes an unimpressed noise and lightly taps your arm with his right hand in scold while you giggle amusedly.

“You’re a brat, aren’t you?”

“I can be whatever you want me to be.”

“No,” he refutes with a sigh. “You’re not doing that, sweetheart, if we’re going to do this then I want you, not some version of you that you think I want. Don’t play into any of the shit you were taught to bait men, I just want you and what you like, okay?”

“I’m not sure I know what I like, I’ve never had the chance to really explore that. Sometimes I had some leeway with the targets but generally I was given a character to play and stuck to that to get the job done,” you admit and take his phone once he’s got the banking app unlocked and the correct card open.

“Have you ever had sex because you want to?”

“No, never had someone I wanted before.” Seungcheol doesn’t respond, letting you think the topic is over. “Okay, I can add a limit, what should I put?” You ask, then type in the number he mumbles, before you press confirm. “You should probably text them to let them know there’s a limit.”

“If they hit that limit tonight, I think money is the last of my problems, they’ll all have alcohol poisoning, sweetheart.”

“Ah, right, suppose. I don’t know how much all that costs.” You shrug and lean your head on his shoulder as he locks his phone and tosses it aside on the bed carelessly so that he can hold you with both arms.

“Sweetheart?” He starts after a few moments of calm silence while his fingers draw mindless, innocent patterns against your thigh. You hum to show you’re listening. “I need to ask what it is you want from me.”

“I thought we already discussed this months ago,” you murmur puzzled.

“I don’t mean that, I mean this, us.”

“Oh. I want you.”

“How?”

“You’ve got a kid, Seungcheol, you know how that works.”

“No,” he chuckles softly. “I’m not asking how sex works. I’m asking if that’s all you want from me, sex.”

“I don’t want your money.”

“Baby,” he lets out a soft breath and adjusts you both so that you’re sitting up and looking at each other. “I mean what relationship do you want from me? Is it just sex, or do you want more?”

“Oh,” you understand, nodding slowly as your eyes widen ever so slightly for a few seconds. “You’re asking if I expect you to be loyal to me and stuff. You’re a gang boss; I know loyalty to a woman isn’t part of that and-”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold the fuck up. Being a gang boss doesn’t mean that at all! My dad was always loyal to my mother, and he raised me to be the same. I don’t sleep around, sweetheart. If we do this, I’m only going to fuck you until you tell me you don’t want me anymore.”

“Does that mean you’d keep fucking me even if you don’t want me?” You frown. “I don’t like that, Seungcheol.”

“No, not at all. Of course, I’m not going to fuck someone I don’t want but I’m…I’m pretty fucking sure I wouldn’t be the one to end this.”

“What makes you say that? Neither of us know what will happen, you could meet someone else or get bored of me or something else.”

“Because this isn’t just sex for me. I get if you just want it to be about sex and I can do that, I’ll keep my feelings to myself and not try to blur lines, but I want to be with you.”

“W-with me?” You whisper and shuffle a little. “And feelings like…romantic?”

“Yeah, baby, feelings like romantic, as in I want to be in a committed relationship with you; I want to be yours and call you mine, but I’m not going to bitch and whine about it if you don’t want that. I’m a grown man, I can accept rejection so just…what do you want from me, baby? Do you want me like that or just sex?”

“I’ve never liked someone before,” you rush out and watch as his expression falls, making you realise that your words sound like a rejection. “No! Wait! Don’t-don’t look sad, I didn’t mean as if I still don’t. I like you, Seungcheol and I’ve never liked someone before, never done relationship type stuff so I don’t know how to do it right, is what I mean.”

“Oh,” he lifts his left arm so that he can cup your jaw and brush his thumb over your cheek tenderly. “You like me? Like really and not just attracted to me?”

“Yeah, I like you and I don’t know how to be a good girlfriend or even a mediocre one, but I’d really like the chance to try with you.”

“I haven’t been with someone in a long time either, not since Sol’s mother. I’m out of practice, so we can learn how to do it together, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you agree as a smile lifts your cheeks and his own features naturally mirror your joy as it grows. “Let’s learn together, Cheolie.”

“Fuck,” he breathes out and surges in to kiss you in a way he hasn’t yet. Before, the kisses were all heavy and intense and although there is plenty of passion in this one too, it doesn’t feel as if lust plays a part in it at all, only pure adoration. “That sounds so fucking cute, baby, always call me Cheolie.”

“Okay, Cheolie,” you agree simply and can’t help but giggle at the dopey smile he gives you from so close that his nose almost brushes yours. “Can we not make a big deal out of this?”

“As in not tell anyone?”

“I just don’t want to get ahead of ourselves in case it doesn’t work out.”

“Oh, right, well that makes sense, it’d be awkward to announce we’re together today then realise in a couple weeks we’re better as friends and have to say we’re over.”

“Exactly.”

“Okay, that’s fine, we can wait. I’d really like to be entirely certain before the boys know too.” You nod emphatically in agreement. “Though there’s a slight problem.”

“What?”

“Mingyu has definitely already told the guys he walked in on us.”

“Oh. How do you know that?”

“He’s one of my best friends, I know him. Know all of those nosey assholes and they definitely all know that we’re at least…physical.” You snort a laugh at his choice of phrasing. “Hey, don’t laugh at me, I didn’t want to say fucking when we haven’t done that.”

“Yet.”

He makes a strange hum of agreement in response. “Y-yep. Yet. Haven’t fucked yet.”

“Soon.”

“You want me to die, don’t you?”

“No. Whose cock am I going to bounce on then?”

“Alright, enough,” he grunts and abruptly tackles you to the bed, making you yelp and then giggle madly when he manhandles you to lay down facing away with his arms around you. “Stop talking like that or you’re going to wake up with something pressing against your ass.”

“I don’t think I’m into that,” you comment thoughtfully. “We can try it though, if you want.”

He groans and buries his face in your neck. “Please shut up and go to sleep, for the sake of my sanity.”

“But I’m not tired,” you complain.

“Want to watch TV?”

“You have a TV in here?” You crane your neck up to look around as best as you can, but you can’t see a TV on any of the bare walls. “There’s no TV.”

“It’s in the bed.”

“What?” You roll onto your back as Seungcheol lets you go to reach above you to the top of the headboard where there’s a little shelf behind it and he retrieves the remote. You watch as he presses a button at the top of the device and then the footrest of the bed opens up and a TV slowly rises from the end. “Whoa.”

“Cool huh?”

“That seems like a bad idea,” you comment and sit up to crawl over and poke at the TV once it’s still, so that you can test the stability. It’s surprisingly solid.

“It’s safe, these TVs are made extra sturdy to account for being in a bed.”

“Are they sex proof?”

“What?” He sputters and looks at you as if you’re crazy, but you’re still focused on testing the stability of the huge screen on the rack, which has been cleverly designed to match the bed and not be an eyesore. “You’re not supposed to fuck against it, babe!”

“That’s not what I mean. I mean movement of the bed itself, is the frame stable enough to protect the TV from those movements?”

“I would assume so; I’ve never had the chance to test it.”

“We’ll have to do that,” you decide and turn to crawl back over to where he’s partially propped up so that he can look at the TV without having his neck at an awkward angle.

“Oh, will we?” He muses as you fit yourself against his side with your arm across his waist and head on his shoulder.

“Mm, you’re going to have to fuck me really hard to really test the durability. And many times, so-” His right hand lifts from your waist as his arm is around you, and covers your mouth, making you peer up at him and find his dark gaze on you.

“Stop it before I lose my cool and risk mentally scarring the boys by testing that right now.” For a second, you almost goad him on, but you really don’t want the boys to see that, or hear it, so you nod in agreement. “Good girl.” He removes his hand from your mouth and cranes forward to peck your slightly pouty lips. “What shall we watch?”

“Does it have to be an adult movie?” You ask as you turn to settle back down and watch the screen where the streaming app are showing as he waits for your answer.

“No.”

“Good, because I really want to watch Cars.”

“Cars?” He laughs, already going into Disney+. “That’s not what I expected.”

“I wasn’t allowed to play with cars or learn anything about them, but I could watch this,” you explain.

“You really like cars, huh?”

“I don’t know,” you admit with a shrug, eyes glued to the screen to watch Seungcheol navigate the app to search for the movie. “I was just never allowed to find out, so it’s stuck with me.”

“Well, Jihoon says you’ll be a good mechanic and he’s more than happy to keep training you.”

“Even though I dented that car today?”

“I think he likes you even more now.” He chuckles and kisses your head. “Do you want to keep working with him?”

“Yeah, I like it there with him, we just…click, I think. It’s nice.”

“I’m glad you’ve gotten closer with him; he used to spend most of his time complaining about his team but now he talks about you and your lessons, how quickly you’re learning. I think it’s kind of cathartic for him, almost, having someone there who he doesn’t want to choke with a wrench.”

“That would be impractical.”

“Oh, but he’s a determined, demonic entity when he’s pissed off, he’d make it work.” He chuckles. “Anyway, let’s watch this and then if you’re still awake after, we’ll get a snack before starting the next one, yeah?”

“Sounds good to me, Cheolie.” Seungcheol presses a kiss to your head then plays the movie and gets comfortable with his right arm securely around you and his left hand holding yours on his chest where you can feel the content beating of his heart against your fingers.

Don’t forget to reblog if you liked to help spread the story and let others read it too! And don't be shy to leave comments or send an ask so I can see your thoughts 🥺 💖

Permanent taglist: @okiedokrie, @tusswrites, @svtiddiess, @codeinebelle

Finding Yourself taglist: @syluslittlecrows, @gaslysainz, @whoisbaek15, @cherry-zip, @minhui896, @choco-scoups, @coupsvi, @reiofsuns2001

[cussundria-nerd-kneal]

THIS THIS THIS--

My gods, the layers just keep going! I remember someone saying "Blackwall is RIGHT THERE, but the bald twig elf is the most saught after??" And... yeah. This post touches on the surface of why Solas is so facinating, let alone his romance. There's only so much you can dig into with Blackwall- who is a lobely character and I love very much.

But with Solas... you can write multiple 10 paged essays on him, with so many different themes. You can dig and keep digging, and the intrigue surrounding him seemingly never ends. Again, you can write essays on so many topics alone surrounding him, but what this post is discussing...

I think Inquisition was truly the first time that Solas had a chance to experience being 'mortal' since he took on a physical form. The first time there were no expectations of him (or, at least the godly grandure expectations). He HAD to slow down, take things easy, and really fight hard in tiny battles. Fights that he could win with a twitch of his eye now required him to scramble out a shield spell before he would get skeward. That's HUMBLING, and at the same time... freeing. No one coward in his presence, no one deferred to him in reverence, he was just Some Dude that "talked about the Fade too much." He got to experience growing so FRUSTRATED with a fellow elf that outright scorned their heritage that he swore at her, and she in turn filled his bedroll with lizards--lizards! But what a amusingly mundane novelty. Getting bested by a silly prank. Who would ever do something so contrite to him back in his time? No one.

And then there is the Inquisitor... Fuck, tgat "They changed themselves to please him" hit me like a TRUCK. I never saw that scene that way... but I can't argue against it! I don't even think Trick Weekes meant for that parellel beween another loved one making him change for their pleasure and him changing Lavellan for his pleasure to be intentional, but it IS there. Solas really was only thinking about himself that scene. Between wanting to confess everything, chickening out, and then dropping on her that the heritage she wears are Slave markings... I don't he thought for one second about her wants or needs. Until she became upset and anguished over thst revelation that he realizes how much the truth hurt her. But even then... get rid of the marking, you get rid of the reminder, right? And then he can just forget about everything else again. But he can't. He's already hurt Lavellan with his selfishiness. Sleeping with her now, while she was oblivious to WHAT he is would hurt her even more. Let alone realizing that he did the very thing Mythal had done to him, and she was just as unknowing as he was, back then.

Just incredible writing. And to think.... the Solas romance was a last minute add on. What the frick could this have looked like it the romance had proper time to be REALLY fleshed out???

in light of veilguard, the valleslin removal scene as solas's turning point is fascinating to me

up until that moment, he has spent inquisition indulging in quasi-denial. he's lost a good proportion of his power. he has no authority. no one fears him or respects him. during that time, he is not and cannot be fen'harel

can you imagine how free he must have felt? he can't do anything about the veil in his current state. he tried, but it didn't work, so now he has to help fix the mess with corypheus before he can deal with the veil. that burden has been at least temporarily lifted from him

so he focuses on the present crisis. he does what he can: he fights alongside his allies (friends) and supports the inquisitor (vhenan) with his knowledge (wisdom). he is and can be solas

but etched into the skin of the woman he's grown to love is a horrible reminder of his true duty. he looks at her and sees either the tyranny of one of the evanuris or the debt he owes to mythal. and he desperately wants to erase that reminder. he tells himself that he wants this for her sake, so that when he tells her the truth and they face the future together, they will stand as equals

but he is so focused on what her valleslin means to him that he has barely given any consideration to what it might mean to her

and in the moments after, whether she has (perhaps somewhat reluctantly) accepted or refused, the realization hits him: he just encouraged her to change herself to please him

just as mythal encouraged him to take a physical body to please her

(when he first displayed his physical form, do you think mythal gently touched his cheek and said, "you are so beautiful"?)

and the spell he's been living under breaks. all that comfortable denial comes crashing down around him. he has not been solas for millennia. he is and always will be fen'harel

and he will not drag the woman he loves down with him

[transmutationisms]

Hey. So that claim that stimulants do completely different things for people who “have ADHD” and “don’t have ADHD” is obviously bullshit but I was wondering if you happen to have read anything I could refer to about that

Okay I want to try using this to break down how I would actually approach this type of question, inspired by some posts I've seen recently about how to read and analyse things that are wrong / bad / liberal.

I don't have, off the top of my head, a published & refereed source that discusses this particular claim. I'm pretty certain there is at least one such thing out there. But I'm also pretty confident it won't be very good. The claim it's responding to is relatively historically recent, & is cloaked in still-fashionable neurobiological terms. Also, the literature on ADHD is bad in general, and so is the general quality of the kinds of imaging studies that are cited to support such claims about 'brain differences.'

If I were writing a literature review or a historiography, here is the part where I would need to go find these things anyway. Then I would have to explain how they make their arguments and what's missing, and depending on the scope of the piece I might have to explain my own philosophical / political position, and advance my methodological critique of the literature I just spent several days finding & reading.

Fortunately I'm writing a tumblr post & my sense is your actual question is "how can I better argue against this obviously bullshit claim," so I don't have to do any of that. There's not really much point sinking that kind of time and effort into finding a source I already think is unlikely to adequately make the argument I'm looking for anyway.

Instead, I would now look at the claim itself. What must be true in order for it to hold?

ADHD brains differ from non-ADHD brains

This difference is relevant to the action/metabolism of stimulant drugs

Okay, claim two on that list requires dealing with psychopharmacology & very exact physiological mechanisms, which means a shitload more reading and most of it punishingly dry and technical. Sad & bad.

Fortunately, though, I already know -- from every reading ever, as well as my experience existing on earth -- that ADHD is not diagnosed by any sort of brain scan, anatomical observation, blood test, etc, but by subjective (yes, even if they made you do it on a computer) clinical observation. Hmm, that's super weird for something that is a 'brain difference.'

I also know that psychiatric categories are difficult to correlate with biological observations even where those observations do exist, because an imaging study on ADHD is necessarily only pulling the 'ADHD sample' from people already diagnosed with ADHD. It's circular. Philosophically this is the same problem I laid out in section one of 'What is an alien?' (which you can read & understand even if the main topic of the essay doesn't interest you).

And I also know that brain imaging studies generally are riddled with serious methodological flaws (post discusses the dead salmon study among others) and don't actually produce meaningful, replicable biological distinctions in any kind of correlation with psychiatric categories (also, variation within categories is also very high).

Oh, wait. Now the claim above looks like patent nonsense with zero philosophical foundations. The burden of proof is on whoever's making that claim, & the basic underlying principles are wrong. Yayyyy.

This exercise means 1) I've sat down and reasoned through my own opinion, giving me clarity on why I think what I do and what evidence would change my mind and 2) from now on, when I see someone else make the claim I'm responding to here, I'll know off the bat that they haven't done the same & are starting from a very credulous attitude toward very low-quality research. And I didn't do this by trawling the literature until I found the exact thing I was looking for, but by thinking through the arguments and evaluating a body of literature that is generally explicitly hostile to the kinds of critiques I make & respect.

[gffa]

I love your blog but I can't remember whether or not you're an author BUT I do remember that you know how characters are Supposed To Be.

So-

Do you have any tips on how to write Mace Windu?

Hi! I've written a few Star Wars fics, but probably not ones you've read. 😂 But here is what I would say about writing Mace Windu (or even just if you want to have fun discussing him, I'd love to know what others would say are the best ways to write him!): Mace is someone who is severe with an undercurrent of deep care, this is someone who is serious but whole-heartedly believes in helping others and doing the right thing as best he can. He is a Jedi to his core, which means he holds compassion as the highest value and there's a subtle warmth to him if you care to look. He will place his life on the line to help people, if others have done their best, he will acknowledge it, if they have something of value to add, he will turn to them and ask them to say what they have to say, he will make sure his clones get through a battle if there's any way he can help them, he will gently touch the Zillo beast's face to comfort it, he will jump down into a ravine and smile at a child who needs help, he will stop to ask baby Anakin if his chip removal scar is healing, he will patiently explain Jedi beliefs to him if he's not quite getting it, he will grump at Yoda that their campaign isn't going the way he'd like, but will still easily sit down and meditate with him and find comfort in that. He's not someone who is a big ray of sunshine, he's too serious for that, he has far too much responsibility on his shoulders and holds them with gravitas, he'll tell someone to take a seat if they're getting out of line (he has more patience with children, but adults he'll treat as adults), he's not going to coddle someone who isn't trying their best, but at the heart of him, he is someone who genuinely wants the best for people, who will wrestle with his anger over injustice and win over it because he has spent a lifetime wrangling his anger into compassion, because he truly believes in the Jedi path, and always do what he believes is right. He takes administrative politics seriously, because he knows that he can't just defy them without consequences that would hurt people in the long run, which may appear cold to others who don't really know him but fundamentally, Mace Windu is a deeply caring man who is trying to help as many people as he can, he has dedicated his life to helping all people, even those who would spit on him, he still does his best to understand their circumstances and find sympathy for them. (Like when Prosset Dibs fell to the dark side, tried to kill Mace and said that he would dance on the Jedi's graves, Mace's response was to say that it was their duty to help him back to the light and put him on archive duty, rather than any serious punishment.) Mace can occasionally crack a very dry joke, he does have a sense of humor, but it's fairly rare. He'll be curt if he's having a bad day, especially if someone is getting out of their lane at him, but not unfairly and never with cruelty. He's a phenomenal athlete even among the Jedi, he's brilliant at what he does, there's a reason he helps lead the Jedi, this is someone who embodies the very best of them. Admittedly, I'm biased because Mace is one of my favorite characters, so I'm less aware of his flaws (even if I'll defend why he's sometimes short with people, it's true that he can sometimes come off as abrasive and not as patient as he might in better times, but I think Mace should be allowed to have frayed nerves sometimes, too), but I do genuinely believe that Mace should be written as someone who is a very serious faced person but loves the galaxy so deeply that it's woven into his bones, who loves his culture and his people, who loves the people of the galaxy, who would give all of himself to help them.

[ghostxrose]

𝑫𝒊𝒆 𝑭𝒐𝒓 𝒀𝒐𝒖 | 𝑩𝒂𝒌𝒖𝒈𝒐 𝑲𝒂𝒕𝒔𝒖𝒌𝒊 𝒙 𝑹𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

Part One |

Summary ~ The news of you getting killed in action hurt Katsuki far worse than any villain ever could, than any villain ever has, and he’s died before. But when the details, or lack thereof, of your death reach Katsuki’s ears, there’s too many things that don’t add up. So, while avidly ignoring the concerned words of his friends telling him to grieve and try to move on, Katsuki starts his own investigation into your “death.” Where exactly this path will lead him, he isn’t sure, but he’s hoping it’s back to you.

Tags/Warnings ~ Fem!Reader, canon-typical violence, character death (kinda🤭), undercover work, angst, eventual fluff, slight themes of body/image/identity dysmorphia/derealization, shady HPSC tingz, more tags to come as the story develops..

Note ~ Hi Lovelies, it's been awhile..😅 Anywho, this is the fic from this teaser that I posted almost two months ago, heh.. Please know that I love and appreciate all of you!! Hope you all enjoy the read! <3 <3 <3

Ps, if the summary sucks, I'm sorryyy. It might be temporary because I kinda hate it, but I didn't want to give away too much🥲

“No one can know, Ms. L/N. Absolutely no contact at any point. Not with your friends. Not with your family. Not with your fiance.” The HPSC Director’s stern tone is almost as hard as the steely look in their eyes.

“I understand, Director-” You firmly assure, forcing confidence and determination to hide the fear lingering beneath.

“I should hope so. Just remember that you signed up for this willingly.” The Director cuts you off with their daunting words, something in their tone sending an unpleasant shiver of fear down your spine…

𖤛 𖤛 𖤛

“She’s gone..”

Katsuki can remember those damned words being sputtered by your stupid fiance clear as day. He remembers how he was reluctantly dragged by Kirishima to the apartment you shared with that lame-ass extra on the basis that he needed to discuss something with everyone. “Everyone” meaning the group of people that you had been friends with since UA. People that extra was only friends with because he was in a relationship with you.

“I said, she’s gone..”

Your dumb ass fiance had repeated in response to Katsuki’s disbelief-ridden question. But he still hadn’t quite understood what your fiance had meant. Where had you gone? On a mission? On a vacation? Did you run away as a means of breaking up with this extra that you had claimed you loved? Katsuki was struggling to understand why so many people around him had dissolved into tears.. Or maybe he hadn’t wanted to understand.

“-she’s dead..”

Kirishima had dumped the ice-cold reality of your fiance’s words over Katsuki with a hand on his shoulder and a teary, sympathetic look on his face. Clarity had run through him like an electric shock, and for just a moment, his normal facade had cracked. But the only person who had seen the anguish was Kirishima seconds before Katsuki shoved his best friend’s hand off his shoulder and stormed out of the apartment.

Everything had felt so surreal and suffocating, and he was panting by the time he had burst out of the main doors of the apartment complex. All he wanted was to go home to his own apartment where he could feel his feelings in private, but Kirishima had driven. So, he started walking, staring ahead blankly as the cold winter air bit at the exposed skin of his face and neck. Unfortunately, the cold had done nothing to wake Katsuki from the nightmare he had been so sure he was having.

Since that day, Katsuki has been repeatedly going through the five stages of grief. Every time he thinks he’s finally accepted that you’re gone, that feeling of something being off with this whole situation pulls at the back of his mind and sends him right back to the denial stage. He tried to talk to Kirishima, Midoriya, and Ashido about it, but they just looked at him with such pity and sadness that it made his skin crawl. He still doesn’t understand how everyone else has just accepted that you’re gone. Even your dumb fiance accepted your death without question and has moved on to a new relationship. However, the fact that the extra was able to move on so fast just makes Katsuki wonder even more just why you had ever wasted your time with that loser.

Katsuki’s therapist believes that the reason for his setbacks in the grieving process, along with his feeling of something being off, is due to the regret he feels. Regret for never telling you how he felt about you. Regret for letting you waste your time, effort, and love on some sleazebag who only ever just gave you the bare minimum. But his regret isn’t the source of this feeling sitting like a rock in his gut, at least, not in his opinion.

His suspicions started a few months after your death when he had asked your fiance for the full story behind what had happened to you. The guy told Katsuki that he was contacted by the HPSC, and they told him that you had been killed in action. That was Katsuki’s first red flag. Typically, HPSC officials would go to the home of the next of kin, and deliver the news of their loved one’s passing that way. The fact that they had called your fiance is extremely weird.

The second red flag that had been raised in Katsuki’s mind came after he had asked your fiance if anyone from the HPSC had come by to bring him in to identify your body. Your fiance had given Katsuki a strange look as he shook his head. He told Katsuki that he was only given the address to the funeral home where he had picked up your ashes. It had taken everything in Katsuki to not make a face at your fiance, he was truly astounded that someone could be so blindly trusting. Then again, the majority of the population isn’t aware of the kind of shit that the HPSC pulls in the name of “good”.

The last red flag that caught Katsuki’s attention and pushed him to believe that something was definitely off about your sudden death, he found on his own. He had stayed late at his agency, waited for everyone to leave, and spent the night in his office searching through every reported crime that had been made in the area of your patrol route from the day you supposedly died. The area you had patrolled that day has always been known for being pretty sketchy with the crime rates and villain activity there being pretty high. Even so, you were a very capable hero, it’s one of the reasons why Katsuki admired you so much. He knew that you could have handled yourself in nearly any situation.

When Katsuki had finished reading through the nearly 60 reports made that day of nothing but low-level activity in that area, it was pretty much confirmed in his mind that there was something that the HPSC was hiding. As he had sipped on what was probably his fifth coffee, he couldn’t tell if he was moving further away from or moving closer toward becoming the “string-covered-conspiracy-theory-board” guy.

𖤛 𖤛 𖤛

Sitting at his desk, Katsuki lets out a heavy sigh as he fights the urge to rub his tired eyes because he knows that’ll just irritate them further. Finishing up his written patrol report, he pushes it off to the side, mentally assuring himself that he’ll file it away properly later. He slides his keyboard closer to himself and hits the space bar to wake his computer, then types in his password when prompted. One hand shifts over to the mouse, and he opens the database program. He goes through the process of uploading a clear photo of your face, then hits the button. It’s not long before he’s zoning out while staring at the rapidly changing faces in the small window next to your photo.

He’s done this every day since his doubts about you being dead surfaced. He’s never gotten a single hit, but he can’t stop running the program. He can’t stop any of his efforts to find you because just the thought of giving up and accepting that you’re gone makes his chest feel so tight that he can’t breathe. He doesn’t care how long it’s been or how long it’ll take, you’re out there and he will find you.

Even if it has been two years.

Two. Fucking. Years.

It’s been two years since you died. Two years since your (ex)fiance held a private “Celebration of Life” for close friends and family. Two years since the HPSC announced your death to all of Japan. Two years since a public vigil was held so that the country could come together to honor your memory.

Two years since everybody so easily ate up a ridiculous lie without question.. everybody except Katsuki.

“Pretty sure your therapist suggested that you stop doing this, man..” Kaminari’s voice coming from right next to him forces Katsuki back into reality.

“Fuck off, Dunce. You don’t know shit about what my therapist says.” Katsuki growls out, shoving Kaminari away from him and into Kirishima.

“I overhear what you tell Kiri sometimes..” Kaminari admits under his breath before realizing that maybe he shouldn’t have if the death glare on Katsuki’s face is anything to go by.

Once he feels that Kaminari is properly shaken, Katsuki lets the matter go, for now, with a heavy sigh, “What are you extras even doing here? Go home.” He mutters, giving into the urge to rub his face while leaning forward and bracing his elbows against the desk.

“C’mon man, you know why we’re here.. Go get changed, then we can drive over together,” Kirishima says gently, carefully, like Katsuki is an unwilling child. It pisses Katsuki off for a multitude of reasons. The main one is that there’s a difference between acting petulant about going somewhere and refusing to attend some stupid annual dinner to honor someone who isn’t even dead.

Katsuki’s lip curls as he lets out a sigh of frustration, and he leans back in his desk chair, sending a look to Kirishima, “This shit ended in disaster last year. I don’t know why any of you thought it would be a good idea in the first place to bring a group of grieving people out to their “dead” friend’s favorite izakaya. Why try to make a tradition out of ugly crying and public intoxication? How is that ‘honoring Y/N’s memory’-”

“Jesus, dude.. maybe you would understand it if you just accepted that she’s gone already!” Kaminari snaps uncharacteristically, making Katsuki pause his rant to stare at him in shock as the electric blonde rushes out of the room.

Kirishima let out a tired sigh, watching Kaminari’s retreat before looking back to Katsuki with a not-so-subtle hint of disappointment in his eyes, “Come or don’t come, Katsuki, it’s up to you. Just don’t judge how the rest of us decide to heal.” Kirishima says quietly before walking out of the room.

Katsuki lets out a low growl through gritted teeth as he scrubs a hand over his face. He leans back in his desk chair and glares at the computer screen. Guilt bubbles in his stomach from upsetting his friends, much to his frustration. He doesn’t want to go to that stupid izakaya. He wants to stay here in his office like he does every night continuing his search for any signs of you. He watches the database program sift through faces for a moment longer before cursing softly and standing from his chair.

Tags List ~ @emmaiscool22 @rosy-hollow @ch3rryjampi3 @maddie-rose-1

Divider credit ~ @saradika-graphics

[roancowgirl]

I live in a deep red state, in a small, very red town. My gf and I are out and proud. We both work in blue collar jobs, in male dominated environments.

We’ve met some shitty people, but we’ve met SO many nice people as well. They may not be the most educated, but they’re genuine and they try hard to get along if you try to get along with them.

My favorite was a coworker, who called me a slur. It was a mild one, and there isn’t much one can say that would genuinely offend me. But I cracked a joke about this other guy being mad at me for existing(he can be a bit hot under the collar because the wind changed) and my buddy looked at me, so concerned, and said “do you think it’s because you’re a dyke?” He was so genuine and concerned that it didn’t register what he said until an hour later, and now it’s a running joke.

I would rather have someone like that, someone that’s uneducated but trying, than someone that knows all the terminology but doesn’t really give a shit about me. These people are genuine, and I can list off multiple people in my life like this.

I’ve had prior bosses and friends tell me that if anyone makes me uncomfortable or makes a comment, let them know and they’ll handle it. I can hold my own and never had to take them up on it, but they’re behind me if I need them. That goes for both as a queer person and as an afab person.

I think there’s a massive gap in outreach and fighting for rights, and that’s meeting people where they are. Obviously being called a slur shouldn’t be the expectation and that shouldn’t be the norm that we need to be ok with, but I think it’s important to acknowledge when someone is trying and gently educating goes a long way.

I know for me, with some people I run into I might be the only lesbian they’ve ever met. If they’re willing to work with me and treat me like a person and not make my day harder, I’ll meet them where they’re at and we can all get along. They leave more educated and with a worldview that’s a bit bigger than the town they’ve lived in for three generations, and I might have a new buddy or resource.

Media consumption is another thing that has an affect, most of these people don’t have access to a wide array of media, or even think to seek it out because why would you seek out something you’ve never seen or heard of? That’s been discussed in the democratic circles in my area, people were pro democrat and voting for Kamala but largely uneducated about other candidates on the ballot. Media consumption and the effect it has on worldviews, especially in places that are for all intents and purposes somewhat isolated is its own conversation though.

This is turning into an essay and there’s more I can add, but to try to sum this up I don’t think it’s as simple as city/educated folk are your friend, and rural/uneducated/blue collar folk are your enemy. It’s not that black and white. There’s allies and enemies in every community, and using the level of education or terminology someone uses shouldn’t be the bar. Their actions and their try should be,

"The trannies should be able to piss in whatever toilet they want and change their bodies however they want. Why is it my business if some chick has a dick or a guy has a pie? I'm not a trannie or a fag so I don't care, just give 'em the medicine they need."

"This is an LGBT safe space. Of COURSE I fully support individuals who identify as transgender and their right to self-determination! I just think that transitioning is a very serious choice and should be heavily regulated. And there could be a lot of harm in exposing cis children to such topics, so we should be really careful about when it is appropriate to mention trans issues or have too much trans visibility."

One of the above statements is Problematic and the other is slightly annoying. If we disagree on which is which then working together for a better future is going to get really fucking difficult.

[drdemonprince]

I see you post against the global blackout on insta and I understand the sentiment, that it doesn’t make a difference but actually we’ve got major Palestinian civilian advocacy groups saying This is what we’re doing and why, and it feels like the West goes “oh there’s no point let’s not bother”. But in actual fact it’s Something. Which is better than nothing. It’s so easy for us to say it’s not worth it. Because we don’t want to give up a day of paid work, social media and online shopping. But when people in Palestine and the major charities actually on the ground working with them want this, isn’t it actually a show of solidarity regardless of our views on it, the actual impact, and our own in inconvenience? Regardless of impact.

Not shopping for one day isn't all that inconvenient. I don't know about you but I have no buy days all the time. It's not much of a sacrifice, if a person wants to do it and feels that it's a good exercise or symbolic or what-have-you, they should do what they feel is right. But showing respect to a people and a cause means being willing to discuss tactics, express disagreement, identify whose political ideals are in alignment with yours, and convey what one personally thinks is right.

Just because a person is Palestinian doesn't mean that their political ideology or theory of how political change happens aligns with your own, or with any kind of leftist politics. There are a great many Palestinian public figures who are not in any way revolutionary or liberationist. The majority of the charities that exist in Gaza are created and controlled by people in imperial countries, and all these charities operate with harsh restrictions placed upon them that limit how challenging to the existing status quo they can be. Many of them have explicit policies of normalizing the apartheid regime.

And just because a person is affected directly by the genocide doesn't mean they have expertise in tactics or economics -- in fact, it is outrageous that the entire Western world is relying upon a people who are actively being genocided, still, to give us our marching orders and plan our wing of resistance for us. Solidarity isn't just standing around waiting for a people in crisis to tell you what to do. It's organizing and tacting action, lending your support, your expertise, your money, your time, taking a stand for something, asking questions, suggesting alternatives, proposing new acts, participating actively in resistance on every level.

It's also important to keep in mind that the calls we see that come from Palestinians the most often are the ones who have been elevated to the status of Influencer or Head of a Nonprofit-- with all the competing motivations and financial and social incentives that involves. We are not hearing from a lot of Palestinian people on the ground who lack a sizeable platform, who do not have internet or phone access, and whose organizing and resistance take forms that are not social media friendly. The call to "listen to Palestinian voices" is a lot more complex than simply doing what a person on social media -- even a number of popular figures! -- has to say. No person or group can speak for a whole people, or a whole movement.

I believe that taking a single day off from shopping is appealing because it asks so little. It demands almost no organizational work or effort from Americans. It's inert and ineffectual, provably so, but something a person can pat themselves on the back for doing and then go back to their day. It's like almost every form of "activism" that has been promoted on social media for years now -- and it's telling that people won't learn, won't build the infrastructure necessary to make something more dramatic or longer-lasting happen, that members of the imperial core just keep sitting around on social media expecting other people to tell us what we should do to end the imperialism and genocide we are complicit in.

We need to do a whole lot more than not shopping for one day, and we need to do a lot of things that cannot be posted about on social media.

[andreilslovechild]

Aaron and Nicky

Okay so I vaguely discussed this on my previous post about Aaron and hatred, but I needed to say more on the topic bc it kinda just recently popped up in my head again and it's just...ugh so good.

When Aaron moved to SC, he was 13, and Nicky was like 17ish. So, depending on what year he was in, he would have been either in his junior or senior year of high school. Assuming he was in his senior year, Aaron would have only had around, let's say... around 7-8 months with him assuming they moved during the summer.

Aaron would probably have talked to Nicky a few times a year before this. Maybe once every month or two when Luther talked to Tilda, but not really anything special. They probably saw each other a few times for holidays when Luther would pay for their plane tickets. You know the classic long-distance cousins. You don't talk much, but you still know things about each other.

Then, once Aaron moved to SC after finding out about Andrew, he would have been reeling from that discovery, alone, and in a new city he'd probably only been in once or twice before. And even then, he'd probably only been to nickys house, church, and back again. So he would have clung to whatever familiarity he could find.

Him and Nicky would hang out or talk on the phone when Tilda was too high to care, and Aaron used him as an excuse to get out of the house and away from her heavy hands and the crushing silence that echoed in the new house that was already falling apart. He would have picked up on the type of language older kids used, even kids his own age really, would have tried to fit in by using it, and at the time homophobic or vaguely offensive language would have been the norm. Aaron himself may not have used them against Nicky specifically, but Nicky would have heard Aaron using things like "fag" or "gay" as an insult.

Whether Aaron knew Nicky was gay is up for debate, but it's probably likely he knew that Nicky had "strayed from the path of god" or so Luther would have put it. He'd probably heard about the conversion camp in passing, though he likely didn't know what it really was. I think it was mentioned too that Nicky tried to act straight after his experience at conversion camp somewhere in the EC, so Aaron was probably under the impression that Nicky was "cured" like Luther and Maria were.

But long story short, during those 7-8 months, nicky was Aaron's closest friend. I doubt Aaron was very social, so even after school started, he probably didn't make friends that easily, so he hung out with nicky most days, and they did their homework together or whatever. Very sibling like. I think Nicky was the one to convince Aaron to reach out to Andrew against Tilda wishes, and probably the one to comfort him when he recieved a big fuck you back. He was the closest thing Aaron had to real family.

He probably noticed nicky wasn't as happy as he liked to seem, but he was a kid and the most he could do about it was spend lots of time with him and try and get him to genuinely smile now and then.

And then there was the Germany trip.

Aaron wasn't happy Nicky was going on the trip, and Nicky was probably a bit guilty for leaving Aaron behind, but Aaron wouldn't have stopped him from going when Nicky so clearly wanted to. He thought it'd be 5 months or so, and then he'd be back. Just 5 months of crushing loneliness, and he'd have his cousin back.

I think Aaron started using properly for the first time while Nicky was gone on that exchange trip. He'd used a few times here and there before, but not regularly. And certainly not enough to crave them. But with nicky gone, he didn't have any other way to escape. He told himself he'd stop when Nicky came back, except Nicky didn't come back. Not really. He was back for maybe 2 weeks total to officially graduate and pack up his things, and then he was back to Germany because he'd found some perfect gay lovestory there. So he kept using.

I think Aaron resented Nicky leaving him for a long time. He left him alone to suffer his mother and their crazy family by himself. He may not actively realize it, but it also makes him resent nickys sexuality a bit too because if Nicky wasn't gay this wouldn't have happened, and he'd never have left him.

Then three years has come and gone, and andrew is there, Aaron's no longer alone, but Tilda dead. And then Nicky comes back to take care of them. Fights for them. Makes sure they stay with him. And he's nothing like the Nicky Aaron remembers. Well, he kind of is, but not really. He's more flamboyant and bubbly and waaay to talkative and sexual and Aaron isn't sure what to do about it. The first few times were an accident, tired and hurt, and going through withdrawal as he screamed insults at the locked bathroom door. He heard nickys voice and begged him to let him out and then insulted him when he didn't.

But he also notices afterward how they make nickys smile turn a little bit tight. And then the insults become a test. A way to push even more to see if Nicky would break. If he would hit and scream like Tilda or glare and use the stick like Luther. But he didn't. Not even a little bit. Not even once. And slowly, Aaron forgets that that's what the words were supposed to be. He just uses them casually, the insults at the tip of his tongue whenever nicky does something he can comment on. It just becomes normal. And he sees the way nicky brushes them off, but not really. He can see through the mask. But he just can't stop.

It takes years of practice and therapy and more than a few seriously uncomfortable conversations for Aaron to properly get his tongue under control. But he tries. And trying is enough for nicky when it comes to them. After all, nicky had dealt with Andrew, too, who was arguably worse in some ways.

Nicky and Aaron's relationship is infinitely complicated in so many ways. They went from distant family to friends, to strangers, guardians, and children, to finally being just cousins. It takes a long time and probably isn't until after both of them have graduated and Nicky is back in Germany, but they get there in the end, and that's the important part.

(Credit to creamka_ on ig for the art love them)

[pupkashi]

a/n: some more jinwoo headcanons #needthat :P

boyfriend!jinwoo who absolutely melts under your touch, any stress he’s harboring in his shoulders dissipates the second he comes home to you

boyfriend!jinwoo who is so smitten with you he finds himself wanting to come home to you every hour of the day, even finding himself at your job at random times because there was an ‘urgent matter’ he needed to discuss with you, even pulling the s rank card at times to get to you (he just wanted to see you and ask if you needed anything from the grocery store)

boyfriend!jinwoo who didn’t mind you teasing him, always having a small smile on his face when you tried to playful fight or wrestle with him, he was always gentle with you, making sure to keep his strength in check

boyfriend!jinwoo who would flip you under him and pin your wrists to the ground in the blink of an eye when you were being too bratty for his liking, his eyes glowing as he hovered over you, “you done sweetheart?”

boyfriend!jinwoo who blushes SO profusely anytime he finds you staring at him shirtless or in his boxers, he gets so shy under your gaze and his face flushes a deep pink color “w-what? do i have something on me?” he asks, trying to catch a glance of himself in the mirror only for you to shake your head no, “you’re just good to look at” you tease

boyfriend!jinwoo who picks you up and carries you around like you weight nothing, especially when you’re being stubborn about something he’s not above simply picking you up and throwing you over his shoulder

boyfriend!jinwoo who is too attractive for his own good, not realizing just how hot he was and flashing a smile out of kindness to a girl at the bar, you roll your eyes at him when he turns around, grabbing your things and walking out of the bar

“doll what’s wrong?” he’s quick to follow after you, when you don’t stop he’s standing in front of you in a flash, causing you to walk into his toned chest. before you can walk around him he’s got both your hands in his, “don’t walk away from me, talk to me my love”

boyfriend!jinwoo who leaves beru with you when he has to be far from you, beru quickly takes a liking to you after seeing how happy his liege was with you, when jinwoo summons him back he feels a little sad, telling jinwoo he would be more than happy to keep guard of you again, even managing to slip in how you were the only one fit enough for someone such as his highness

boyfriend!jinwoo who loves cooking for you, making you your favorite dishes and comfort foods. he loves having you sit on the counter next to him in one of his t shirts, letting you try everything and getting your input (you always think it’s perfect)

boyfriend!jinwoo who seems so stoic and emotionless in public, but is a ball of happiness and softness with you behind closed doors, warm eyes and soft gentle touches reserved just for you

the world would never know that sung jinwoo practically purrs when you run your fingers through his hair, gently scratching his scalp. only you would ever know the quiet whine he lets out when you kiss his sharp jawline. only you would ever know the sound of his giggles when you place a flurry of kisses on his face. only you would get to see the love sick look on his face when you catch him staring at you randomly during domestic moments.

boyfriend!jinwoo who reserves the sweetest part of himself for only you <3

[capricorn-0mnikorn]

I also don't like horror (I'm better with horror in prose, when I can control the pace), but after reading this discussion, I also can't help thinking:

For all our fear of being surveilled, Attention has also become a form of Currency (There's even a phrase "The Attention Economy"), that more and more people need these days in order to make a living.

changes and trends in horror-genre films are linked to the anxieties of the culture in its time and place. Vampires are the manifestation of grappling with sexuality; aliens, of foreign influence. Horror from the Cold War is about apathy and annihilation; classic Japanese horror is characterised by “nature’s revenge”; psychological horror plays with anxieties that absorbed its audience, like pregnancy/abortion, mental illness, femininity. Some horror presses on the bruise of being trapped in a situation with upsetting tasks to complete, especially ones that compromise you as a person - reflecting the horrors and anxieties of capitalism etc etc etc. Cosmic horror is slightly out of fashion because our culture is more comfortable with, even wistful for, “the unknown.” Monster horror now has to be aware of itself, as a contingent of people now live in the freedom and comfort of saying “I would willingly, gladly, even preferentially fuck that monster.” But I don’t know much about films or genres: that ground has been covered by cleverer people.

I don’t actually like horror or movies. What interests me at the moment is how horror of the 2020s has an element of perception and paying attention.

Multiple movies in one year discussed monsters that killed you if you perceived them. There are monsters you can’t look at; monsters that kill you instantly if you get their attention. Monsters where you have to be silent, look down, hold still: pray that they pass over you. M Zombies have changed from a hand-waved virus that covers extras in splashy gore, to insidious spores. A disaster film is called Don’t Look Up, a horror film is called Nope. Even trashy nun horror sets up strange premises of keeping your eyes fixed on something as the devil GETS you.

No idea if this is anything. (I haven’t seen any of these things because, unfortunately, I hate them.) Someone who understands better than me could say something clever here, and I hope they do.

But the thing I’m thinking about is what this will look like to the future, as the Victorian sex vampires and Cold War anxieties look to us. I think they’ll have a little sympathy, but they probably won’t. You poor little prey animals, the kids will say, you were awfully afraid of facing up to things, weren’t you?