#angry chugging sounds

[vettesebas]

happy multi 21 10-year divorceaversary

[mostly-imagines]

The Alchemy vol. II

jason todd x fem!reader

aka the progression of your relationship with the red hood

part one

warnings: depictions of blood and injury, standard gotham violence, jason doesn't know how to have feelings, reader is angry, threats against readers life, implied concern of sexual assault

It might be a matter of deficiency in self-preservation skills, how the sound of your window sliding open does nothing to phase you. You don’t know if that’s your fault or his.

“How’s it goin’ down there?” You mumble, not sitting up from your position on the couch.

He pushes the window shut in his wake, huffing. “I am up here for a reason,” he says factually.

You crane your head back just in time to see him tug the red helmet off his head, setting it down on your side table. He has on his under-mask that covers the lower half of his face. You don’t like that one.

He glances around your apartment as he approaches with slow steps. “Why are all the lights off?”

“Forgot to turn ‘em on,” you tell him simply.

He frowns at you, confusion evident.

You pay him no mind though, taking an exaggerated breath and pushing yourself up off the couch before trotting over to the kitchen. You open the fridge and scrummage for a water bottle. Jason thinks it’s odd how long it takes you to find one in your own fridge. 

Once it's (eventually) in your hands, you chug down several gulps and toss the half empty bottle towards the counter where it lands with a sloppy thump and rolls.

When you return, he’s leant against the armrest of your chair, watching you. You stop in the middle of the room, a contemplating stare on the floor. He tilts his head at you, wondering what you could possibly be thinking so hard about.

You take a deep breath before plopping down to lay on the carpet all in one go. 

He peers down at you, barely trying to hide his amusement. “You’re drunk.”

You shake your head, “I’m not sober.”

“That’s—yeah.” He stands all the way, coming to lay down on the floor next to you, using significantly more coordination than you had.

He lays in between you and the couch, though it doesn’t seem you’d left him much room. If he minds, it doesn’t show. “What’d you do?”

“I jus’ went out with my friend,” you tell him, closing your eyes. “She moves pretty fast..”

It occurs to him that you might be laying on the ground because you got nauseous. He turns to look at you, scanning you over. “You good?”

“I feel great,” you keen. “I feel…swooshy.”

He gives you a bemused look. “Dizzy?”

You shake your head with a great deal of consideration on your face, “No, not even dizzy, just…swoosh.” You throw out a hand with a theatrical flick.

“Mhm.”

You pucker your lips to the side. “You come here a lot,” you comment, clearly working up to some greater observation.

“You’re in my neighborhood,” he shrugs. 

Your head tilts, “You live here?”

He pauses before correcting himself, “My territory.”

You hum, “Still. There has to be other people around here you know. ‘Specially if you’re passing out on balconies on the reg.”

He frowns, “I try not to make a habit out of it.”

You continue on, “Why do you always go to my apartment? There’s—”

“I don’t always come to your apartment—”

You deadpan, “You’re here like three nights a week. And I don’t even help you that much anymore, you’ve used up my whole first aid kit.”

You can literally feel the eyeroll like you have a sixth sense for it. “That thing wasn’t exactly impressive to start with..”

“Did enough for you, didn’t it? Anyways, my point is: I think you like me,” you say with a nod.

That has him going absolutely rigid, “What?”

“I’ve heard you’re an asshole.”

“What?”

You nod, “Like, people that run into you. They say you’re kind of a dick. You help ‘em ‘n everything, but also while being a dick. Sometimes.”

“Okay...”

“But you’re nice to me. Sort of,” you squint. “I think you like me.”

He hasn’t felt this straggled in a conversation in a while. “I—well I’m not here because you’re a world-class medic.”

You scoff, “There’s no world-class medics..” But then your tone switches up, into something lighter. “We’re friends aren’t we? I think we’re friends.” 

He shakes his head, staring up blankly. “Sure, we’re friends.”

“We’re friends and you like me,” you reiterate.

He really wishes you’d stop saying that. “Okay.”

“I like you too. Even though you’re kinda sketchy.”

He doesn’t know what to say to that.

You hum into the silence, looking up at the ceiling. “J…James, Jack, John…”

He smiles, gaze dancing across the egg-whitened popcorn texture of the ceiling. “I’m not going to tell you.”

You ignore him, “Jake, Jaden, Jason, Josh, Joe, Jesse…”

You’re about three shots too drunk to notice the way he briefly stiffens. 

“Juuhhh…” you lull your head to the side, the letter fading out slowly as you look into his eyes. If you focus, you think you can make out a few of those little specks of green again.

He seems to already be running his own study on your irises, his eyes now softer than you can remember seeing them before. 

His next words are whispered, the sounds barely escaping. “You’re pretty.”

What?

“What?”

“What?” He seems taken aback by his own words, like he also wasn’t expecting them to climb out of his mouth.

You can literally feel sobriety seeping back into your blood. “I’m…pretty?”

He blinks a few times, apparently trying hard to decide on what position he’s going to take here. “I—well…yeah.”

You blink once, relaxing. “I think…I think you’re pretty too.”

“What?”

“We can’t do this again.”

He breaks eye contact, looking almost dejected.

You turn your head down to where his hand thrums against the carpet. “I mean, I know I haven’t seen your whole face in one go, but I see the top half now and the bottom before, so I…maybe I shouldn’t be saying this.” You reset with a shallow breath, “I don’t know what your whole face looks like.”

“That was,” he blinks, eyebrows raised. “Fascinating.”

“Thanks,” you say flatly. You close your eyes again, though this time you remain facing him.

He feels a slight pang of guilt for the way he continues to ogle at you, eyes tracing over every detail of your face. But that ounce of guilt does nothing to outweigh the reward of gazing upon you. He didn’t mean to say it but he definitely meant it: you’re really fucking pretty.

Your eyelashes flutter for a moment before stilling, a display of peace washing over your features. It’s when your breathing steadies over and your face relaxes completely is when he starts to feel like a creep. It takes a lot of strength for him to force his eyes shut, depriving himself of the view.

And he doesn’t do it on purpose, but after a few moments his inhales and exhales take to the same rhythm of yours. The thin layer of the rug isn’t doing much to protect his back from the hardwood below and he’s pretty confident later he’ll curse himself for lying like this for so long. 

But as he lays, he doesn’t find himself focused on the dark red-gray of his eyelids like usual, so much as the warmth from the proximity of your bodies. He’s usually so concentrated on whatever the hell is going on in his head and it prevents him from really truly resting, but now, the only thing taking up his attention is physical sensations.

He feels this warmth in his heart that if he didn’t know any better, he’d call burning. His hands feel numb and he can distinctly feel the beat of his own heart in his chest, thrumming away.

He presses his lips to your forehead with a feather light touch, slow to pull away. He doesn’t make it all the way back to his original position before his movement lulls and his body relaxes again, joining you gladly in unconsciousness.

Gotham City has a particular gift for inconveniencing you at the worst possible moment and doing it multiple times a week.

Tonight's round of problems resulted in an entire city district getting shut down, the district which is regrettably right between your job and your apartment.

So on top of having to hole up into your work for two hours longer than you were supposed to, it took you an extra 45 minutes getting home while trying to maneuver around every other person in the same situation. And just to cement the quality of this night, the door to your apartment building slams nice and hard against your side and the light in the hallway is out.

You groan when you fail to get your key the lock the right way for the third time, lodging it in a final time and shoving the door open. You flick on the kitchen light and dump your bag onto the counter, kicking the door shut behind you.

You take a deep breath, eyes closed, as you lean your head back against the wall. The second you crack your eyes open again, a pile of red mass on the floor behind your couch catches your attention and startles some energy right back into your chest.

“Oh, shit,” you scurry over towards the window, crumbling down onto your knees in front of him. Your eyes dart across the red helmet, trying to makeout any signs of consciousness. “Hood?” 

There’s no response from him, no movement. You tug his helmet off, finding him eyes-closed with blood running down the side of his head. You push a hand down on his chest armor, shaking him. “J? J!”

His eyes flutter open slowly under his domino mask, adjusting to the light. With the disorientation on his face he looks younger, more his age. His hair is tousled up and you can make out some distinct curls in it when it's undone like this. 

He grimaces, gloved hand coming up to his head. He looks wearily at the blood on his fingers, before plopping his hand back down and blinking up at you. “Hey..”

You sit back on your heels with a sigh, “What the fuck?”

He makes a strained effort to sit up on his own so you try to heave him up by his forearm. As he comes up all the way you glance behind his back at a bag crumpled discarded on the floor. You can barely see some sort of fabric poking out the top. “What is that?”

“Huh?” He throws back a tired glance, “Oh. They're..curtains.”

“Explain.”

He looks at you blankly, “You don’t have any curtains.”

You blink. “Explain.”

“It’s dangerous for people to just be able to look in and see you. So. Curtains.” For a guy who reads Dostoevsky, he’s not much of a wordsmith. Though that could be the concussion. 

You reach around him and pull some of the fabric out of the bag, inspecting the linen. They match the theme of your living room.

You set it back down, blinking. “Thanks.”

He only gives a half-hearted shrug.

You look back at him, “How bad is the…?” You gesture to the side of your head.

He feels at the blood again, “It’s mostly just a cut. Shoulda stopped bleeding by now.”

You nod, “I’ll, uh—I’ll clean it up.”

He looks at you, shaking his head. “You don’t need to. Your kit’s almost empty anyways.”

“I restocked it,” you tell him, rising to stand. He lets you go retrieve your aid box without protest, listening blankly to the faucet run in the bathroom while you’re gone.

You return momentarily, damp rag in one hand, kit in the other. “Here, sit on the couch,” you tell him, nodding him up. 

He lugs himself up off the hardwood and onto the cushion with a groan. You position yourself on the cushion next to him, leaning over to inspect the cut. You brush through his hair as gently as you can, though you have to suspect he wouldn’t have minded either way—if only based on the pain threshold you know him to have.

As much as you are completely in his space, you’re having trouble getting all the access you need to fix him up right. You turn and adjust your angle this way and that but none of it works. 

You huff, sitting back. “I can’t..”

He nods his permission at you without delay, and you shift yourself over to sit fully on his lap, straddling him on the sofa. You put your focus into cleaning his wound, but you have to notice how deep he’s breathing and how he’s seemingly trying very hard to avoid eye contact. You’re sure your own breath is uneven and telling, and frankly you’re kind of hoping he has a concussion just so he might not notice it.

An unexpected sting has him flinching and grabbing your hips on instinct, a certain heaviness lingering in the air after contact. His hand tenses and he’s about to remove them from you completely when you manage to catch his gaze, and the few moments of silent eye contact are enough to convince him to stay. He forces his hands to relax against your waist, his fix on your face wavering before fizzling away completely.

You go back to dabbing at the blood and it’s clear that his thoughts get the better of him quickly. “You should move.”

“But then where would you go?”

He makes a rumbling noise from the back of his throat at that, saying nothing more.

You continue to wipe away at the blood until you can’t see it anymore, beyond the slice of the cut. You misjudge your own spatial awareness as you pull back from him, and the tips of your noses graze. Though the contact surprises you, you don’t move away from it. You become very acutely aware of his touch on your waist, how warm it feels atop your shirt. 

His head leans forward just barely before stopping. He retreats slightly and his body ultimately decides to come closer. He doesn’t stop until his lips, slightly parted, skim across yours.

Your breath catches as he looms nearer, lips touching against yours softly. He tests that pressure out for a moment, before moving to kissing you with more intent. You kiss him back, and though there’s an increasing resolve on both of your parts, the connection itself remains gentle, reposeful.

The last slight movement of his lips gradually slips away as he rests his forehead against yours.

A long beat passes before he’s tightening his grip on your waist and pulling you up to stand. You aren’t given the time to process the shift as he’s moving straight past you, head down. He pauses only when he gets to the window, back turned to you.

“Sorry—I’m…” his shoulders drop, “Sorry.” 

He climbs out and scales the fire escape in total silence until he’s gone completely.

You stand frozen in position, staring at the window with incredulity burning across your face.

What the fuck?

Two weeks pass of voided midnight visits. 

You’re not sure what to make of that. He kissed you, not the other way around. You couldn’t possibly have done something to upset him or throw him off since he’s the only one who did anything. All in all, it’s a little disappointing.

There had been tension there and it wasn’t shocking for you to learn that he wanted to kiss you. It was a bit of a surprise for him to actually do it, though not a bad one. But you were thrown for a grand fucking loop when he immediately bailed out.

Maybe you can’t read him as well as you think because you’d expected him to at least say something about it. It was a borderline given that he would come back and there would be a bonus surplus of tension but then there would be a resolution. Because he wouldn’t kiss you and then never come back. Nobody would do that, it doesn’t make sense.

It’s a little more than embarrassing to admit that you’ve been purposefully staying home in the hope that he’ll drop in. After fifteen nights of disappointment, you decided to put your focus elsewhere.

You’d asked a friend of yours to go out with you tonight, and never one to decline a night out, she agreed happily. 

The bell above the door jingles as you crack it open, peaking your head in. You find Chloe quickly, stood behind the bar with bottles in hand.

“Hey gorgeous,” she smiles at you, waving you in.

You step in, air conditioning hitting you hard. The sparkles on her cocktail dress catch your eye as she turns this way and that, trying to find the right spot for the whiskey. 

Chloe hums to herself as she searches, honestly taking a bit longer than she should. “You been cool?”

You nod, “Yeah, just—you know…” She doesn’t. Your affiliation with the Red Hood is something you’ve kept to yourself, though you don’t know why. It would be safer, more responsible to let someone else know about these drop-ins, but something about it feels personal. A strange feeling to tack onto it, you think. A regrettable one, at least. 

You take a deep breath, “You’ve been busy. Jessie call out again?”

She laughs dryly, “Oh yeah, of course. But it's fine, I love staying over an hour after close.” She sighs, “I’m almost done anyway.”

You circle around the bar, looking over the several yet-to-be-sorted bottles. “You need help?”

“No, there’s—” she cuts herself off as she looks over at the front door, face dropping. “Oh, shit. Duck.”

“Wha—” she yanks you down to the floor to crouch awkwardly behind the counter.

You hear the bell ring as the door swings open, followed by several pairs of footsteps and low voices.

“—Christ, if she forgets to lock the door one more fucking time I’m gonna kill her.”

You look at Chloe through furrowed eyebrows, her grip on you still tight. She shakes her head and puts a finger to her lips.

A second man mutters something you can’t make out.

The first voice continues, “Go around back and lug the crates in, we gotta start packing that shit.” 

Another voice, “The crates? They’re not here..”

There’s a heavy beat before the first voice speaks, “What the fuck do you mean they’re not here? She needs them now.”

“Well…the first shipments will be in later this week. The next batch’ll take until the end of the month, probably.”

A sigh, “Dumbass…”

The first voice huffs, “The end of the month? Are you fucking kidding me? I told you to get that shit ready weeks ago and you’ve got it coming in at the end of the month?” 

“I’ll…I’ll see what I can do to get it sooner.”

“Yeah, you do that,” he grumbles. “Motherfucker. I need a drink. Get a bottle of something.”

One of the men rounds the counter, tracks falling short at the sight of you and Chloe huddled against the counter.

“What the fuck?”

You and Chloe are wide-eyed and frozen as he sneers down at you. Still, he looks like he’s trying to be tougher than he is, compensating for size that he does not have, with an attitude that doesn’t match up with the way he sped around the counter to get the other man a drink.

Another guy comes around and you quickly recognize him as the man in charge. He frowns at Chloe, sighing, “You’re not supposed to be here still, Chloe.”

She shifts her weight, “I was just…finishing inventory…”

The bossman’s eyes move to you, laced with nothing but inconvenience. “Oh and you brought a friend. Great.” 

“Mr. Murray, we were just ab—”

He’s quick to cut her off with a hand, “Chloe. Stop talking.”

Her face falls flat and her words die off without hesitation.

“Get up.”

She’s pushing herself off the ground instantly while you’re still on the floor catching up with what the hell’s going on. As she moves out from behind the bar, you scurry to follow her. Your arm bumps against hers as you fiddle with the seams at the bottom of your outfit.

You dressed to go out with your friend on a Friday night, not to meet three mobsters in a closed bar with no witnesses. That’s to say, you’re feeling a little exposed.

You stand in the center of the bar, the three men looking various degrees of annoyed looks across their faces. Though the oldest looking of the bunch has something else in his eyes as he looks you up and down, in no rush to hide his engrossment in your bare legs.

“How old are you, honey?” Even without the blatant ogling, that’s never a good question to hear from a fifty year old man.

Your eyes avert to the floor, lips pursing. 

“Hey, don’t be rude. I asked you a question.” He nudges your chin up a bit rougher than necessary, forcing you to look him in the eyes. 

Somehow, you feel like there’s no answer here that would help you. 

The man at the bar serves as an unexpected saving grace of sorts, muttering, “We don’t have time for this.”

Your pursuer shakes his head, looking you over in a way that makes you feel very small. “I think we got plenty of time.”

“I disagree.”

All heads whip to the doorway where the Red Hood leans against the frame, checking his phone. A never invited but always welcome addition to the party. At least for you.

The man in front of you instantly steps back, putting some distance between the two of you. Hands across the room instinctively fly to holsters only to begrudgingly relax at their sides, probably figuring drawing on Red Hood isn’t in their best interest. Though your focus lies on the bell above his head that didn’t make a peep whenever he came in.

Hood shuts his phone off and puts it away with a quiet sigh before glancing up at the tension-filled room. He literally double takes when his helmet scans past you. You somehow feel more in trouble now than you did two minutes ago. 

“Hood..” the bossman says measuredly. “What are you doing here?”

He stares at you for a second longer before tearing his gaze away. “Just thought I’d check up on you, Murray. Make sure you’re not causing trouble in light of our agreement.” He makes a point of looking back at you and Chloe at that last part before looking to Murray expectantly.

He waves that off easily, “This is nothing. Just two late-shift employees.”

Hood takes a piqued breath. “You picked a bad time to lie to me,” he says flatly.

Murray shakes his head, “Look, we’re just cleaning up a mess. No harm.”

“Really?”

“This clean up benefits you too, they heard too much. The one girl—Chloe, get out. She’s fine, she’s not talking.”

Chloe wastes no time exiting hastily. Bye Chloe.

He continues, “We only need to kill one of them.” He says it like this is an ideal compromise. You’re feeling differently.

Hood huffs, pulling out a gun from his holster. “I’m thinking it’s implied that killing innocent people is a form of causing trouble. Which is in direct violation of our agreement.” He cocks the gun, pointing it at Murray’s head.

Murray steps back dramatically, throwing his hands up. “Hey, an alliance is an alliance!”

Hood wavers his head to the side, “Alliance is a strong word. Temporary tolerance maybe…”

The short man pipes up, “Okay, calm down, calm down. Nobody needs to get killed. We can cooperate.”

“That’s the spirit,” Hood quips, lowering his gun.

The older one shakes his head, “We don’t have anything on her, she’ll talk.”

The short man demurs, “We don’t know that—”

“She saw too much, we can’t have her walking around with that information,” Murray says, moving towards you. 

Hood puts his hands up like some kind of mediator, “Nobody’s killing anybody.”

Murray scoffs, “You were gonna kill me!”

Hood's hands drop as he stands in full, “And I still might!”

Boldly, Murray steps up to him.

But Hood looks down at him, easily a full head taller than him and at least twice his muscle mass. “Let's weigh out your odds here, Murray. Is that a fight you’re winning?”

The look on Murray’s face tells you it’s not and he struggles to maintain this chest to chest confrontation.

It only takes him a moment of wavering to decide to back off, though he sure as hell doesn’t look happy about it. 

Hood pushes past him, grabbing you by the arm and pulling you towards him. 

Murray splutters, watching you go. “You can’t—I-I know people.”

“I am people,” Hood grumbles, steering you towards the door.

Though you can be sure they have them, no one voices any objections aa he pulls you outside.

His stride doesn’t even falter as he marches you down the sidewalk in the direction of your apartment. Aside from the sound of the breeze wisping past your ears, it’s silent between you.

After two blocks you get the strong impression that this muted exchange of energy is just going to keep on, so you force yourself to find something to rattle off about. “That uh, that seems like something he’s gonna be mad about.”

He huffs, “Yeah, well he can get over it or die so I guess it’s a personal choice.”

You frown at his tone, “What’s your problem?”

That was, apparently, the wrong thing to say as his head snaps in your direction. “Why the hell are you out here?”

His sharp attitude has you stumbling a bit. “Why are you out here? You have a concussion.”

“I don’t have a concussion,” he grumbles. “And I just saved your life so maybe complaining about it isn’t your best move right now.”

You try to stop and face him but he doesn’t let you, keeping you moving along with him. “That’s what we’re doing? Really?” 

Are these about the social skills that you had expected from him based on your first meeting? Yeah. But that first meeting was months ago. He’s proven again and again that he has half a brain and the ability to read a room so you’re really not fucking sure what the hell his problem is. He won’t acknowledge that he kissed you and all but jumped out your living room window, but he will snap at you for asking about his concussion that there’s no way he doesn’t have. Especially if he’s acting like this. 

He ignores your comment, blatantly at that. “Did they say anything about a drug shipment?”

This is what we’re talking about? Sure. Fine. At least you’re talking. 

You open your mouth briefly before closing it again, eyes narrowed. “I don’t know.”

He tries again, “What about Nocturna? Did you hear that name?”

“I…I don’t know.” You weren’t exactly taking notes behind the bar counter. 

His head drops down heavily, “Okay, I think I’m seeing a trend for how this conversation’s gonna go...”

You gawk at him, astonished that he thinks it’s you who’s handling this discussion poorly. “You cannot be serious right now.”

He sighs, slowing as you approach the steps to your building, “Just—why’d they let Chloe go?”

You blink a few times, “I mean, she has a drug problem…” You guess that might be where she’s getting them from…

He nods solemnly, “Okay.”

You huff, turning to walk up the steps, shoulders heavy. You hope he’ll come up with you and maybe, just maybe, address the elephant in the room. 

“Are you—” you turn around to face him again, met with nothing but vacant air. 

A deep, tense, breath from you before calling out, “Really?”

One month. One month. And he decides to show up tonight like it’s no time lost. But there was some fucking time lost.

Count ‘em up, that’s one period, two paychecks, three grocery trips, four laundry days, and thirteen showers. And that stupid fucking vigilante ransacked your head during every single one.

You went through the five stages of grief for this bizarre, undefinable relationship and then discovered about six more while you were at it. 

So when you walk out from the bathroom, you’re a little pissed to see him sitting there on your living room floor, helping himself to a glass of water. 

Maybe it’s his domino mask that gives his expression the illusion of neutrality. Or maybe he really has no idea how insane it is that he would occupy your apartment like this after skipping out on you for an entire lunar cycle.

He leans against your armchair, inspecting a scratch on his lower arm. You enter silently, watching him the whole time as you make your way over to the far end of the couch.

He doesn’t look up at you though, not until after a minute or two of silence. 

“You got any bandages left?” he asks, throwing a glance over his shoulder. 

You stare at him incredulously. 

After ten seconds with no response from you, he turns around fully, frowning. “What?”

“Are you kidding me?”

“I—” he squints, eyes flickering across your face. “No?”

You continue to gawk at him, not trying for any words.

He stares back, eyes wide. “I don’t know what you want me to say...”

You tear your gaze from him, preferring to stare at the wall. “You know what, I think I know what your problem is.”

He gives a laugh with little life to it. “I only have one?”

You bite down on your lip, “You only have one I’m ready to kill you over.”

He sits with that for a minute. A long minute, before asking softly, “What is it?”

You shake your head, glaring at an unoccupied nail in the wall. “That you’re an idiot,” you mutter. You start to walk away  before turning around again after a few steps. “Where the hell have you been?”

He blinks, “Uh, there’s just been a lot of—”

“Bullshit.”

He’s about to argue his point, but quickly decides to concede, “Yeah.” He takes a deep breath, sitting back. “I…wasn’t prepared for this conversation,” he says carefully.

You scoff with a nod, “Yeah, neither was I, but it’s happening. I m—what did you think was going to happen here? I—you kissed me, you kissed me!”

“No I—” he huffs, “I shouldn’t have done that, okay?”

“What the fuck does that mean?”

He sighs, throwing his hands up at his sides. “What do you want me to say?”

You shrug without genuinity, “Anything that could possibly rationalize that sequence of decisions. You kiss me, run away, ghost me for a fucking month, and then show up again like nothing happened.”

He shuts his eyes, shaking his head. “I know, I know, I’m sorry!”

“I’m not asking you to be sorry, I’m asking you to pick a fucking lane and stick to it!”

He falls silent at that, eyes on the floor. It’s quiet for long enough that you start to think he’ll accept the silence as his cue to leave. You’re not sure if you want him to or not.

You take a deep breath, eyes closed. “I need you to start being straight with me. Now.”

He doesn’t look up, taking his time to find his words. “I am sorry,” he tells you. “I…I’m not good at this. I’m not good with words so I shouldn’t have fucking done it.”

Honestly you weren’t expecting him to actually come up with a reason, so you’re not prepared to weigh out whether or not it’s a good one.

“I like you...a lot. And I didn’t know—I don’t know—what to do about it so I kissed you and I didn’t think it through, and…I guess I panicked.”

That’s more than enough for you to warrant looking back over at him. It doesn’t take long for your gaze to start shifting around awkwardly while you scratch at your neck. “I would’ve taken you for more of a fight over flight kinda guy.”

He nods to himself. “Jus’ depends..” he says quietly.

And then it seems neither of you have anything else to say. You’ve run out of angry words to spit and he’s run out of apologies and excuses. But neither of you feel like you’re done.

The quiet lingers on for a painful amount of time. Your annoyance dissipates into something else, something more uncomfortable, but you couldn’t find a name for it. It’s got your thoughts going faster though and your chest feeling more hollow. Maybe not hollow…maybe just softer. 

He cuts through your thoughts before you can, “Are you mad that I kissed you?”

You shake your head, “No. I’m mad about what happened after.” You’re just mad about what happened after. Should’ve said just.

He thinks about that for a moment. 

“I can be honest with you,” he tells you. The way he says it, it’s somewhere between a peace offering and an assurance to himself.

You look at him again. He reads oddly vulnerable for a man his size with his reputation. You believe him. 

He goes on, “I trust you, you know? I want you to trust me too, if you can.”

You blink a few times, processing. “I…I don’t know anything about you.”

He nods, an anxious aura radiating around him. He leaves you hanging for longer than a few moments, getting you convinced that the conversation is just going to end there.

It doesn’t though, and after a few minutes, he sits up and reaches up to his mask.

It has you sitting up too, like he just pulled out a gun. Your hands fly up instinctually, as though this is completely uncalled for, as if he’s crazy for doing it.

He pauses his movements for a moment, making eye contact with you. His eyes reaffirm his words. He trusts you and he wants you to trust him.

You allow your hands to relax onto your lap and he continues on, taking his mask off.

You’re not revealed to much more of his face than you’d already seen before, but entirely in view like this, he’s a sight. You try not to stare but there’s little reward to removing him from your sight whereas the alternative…

All together like this you can see how his features balance his face out so nicely and make for a warm countenance, if not rough.

He takes a deep breath, setting his mask to the side. “My name is J…” he says with assurance. “Todd,” he tacks on.

You don’t mean to, really, but you’re sure the frown on your face is evident as puzzle pieces start forming and connecting in your mind. 

J…Todd…J…Jay…Todd…Jason…Todd…

Your mouth hangs open, “You’re Jason Todd. You’re de—” Well a couple things are starting to add up. “How are you…how are you not—”

He waves that away, tiredly. “It's a long story. Not particularly happy, either.”

Autopsy scar. Fuck. 

“I mean, I’ll…” he hesitates, “I’ll tell you if you want me to.”

He says it, but discomfort is painted across his face. You’re quick to shake your head, “It’s okay.”

He nods, likely relieved.

You stand up from your seat, crossing the room to sit down next to him. You’d half-expected him to tense up, but his body relaxes when you lean back against the chair.

You close your eyes before asking, “Who’s Nocturna?”

“She’s just this woman that’s been causing trouble for us.”

You don’t say anything and he continues on, shaking his head. “She’s more annoying than anything.”

You open your eyes, looking over. “Yeah?”

He shrugs, “Just trying to take over the underworld, the usual stuff. Nothing you need to worry about.”

You give a laugh that’s barely more than an exhale, relaxing your body completely..

There’s the slightest lull in activity before he sets his hand down on the floor, right on top of yours. The sounds of your breathing are the only thing that fill the room for a few minutes, save for the occasional car horn.

He glances at the clock on the wall, nearing midnight. “I have to go...” He says reluctantly.

You try not to let the disappointment show through your body language. “Go where?”

He pauses before telling you,  “A cemetery.”

You nod vacantly, “Oh. Just for fun, or…?”

He gives a dry laugh, “Just meeting an associate. They’re a bit dramatic, so.”

“Yeah, I’d say.”

“I’ll come back—I’m going to come back,” he mutters against your hairline.

You don’t respond, but you both know he’s good for his promise.

He looks around your apartment for a second before seemingly getting an idea. He pushes himself up off the ground and heads for your kitchen. You watch as he rips a sticky note off the deck on your fridge and scribbles something down on it. 

He returns to you, kneeling down and pushing the square of paper into your hand. “Here,” he says, looking you in the eye. “If you need anything. Anything.”

You engulf the note in your palm, nodding sincerely. His eyes flicker across your face, like he’s thinking about something. He hesitates for a moment, turning towards you, away from you, then towards you again. He holds the back of your head tenderly before pressing a sweet kiss to your forehead.

You look at each other up close for a second with nothing short of starry eyes before he turns away and ducks out the window.

You open up your palm and look down at the paper, at the ten digits scrawled across it.

Huh.

Must be official. 

🧨 reblog or die (this is a threat) 🧨

[divinesolas]

the shortest marriage tour | finale

summary: you go through a whirlwind of events; struggles with wedding preparations, feasts in your honor, wedding ceremonies and the fun that comes with being married.

w.c: 6.6k

c.w: fluff, also a good amount of smut, father daemon, idk how weddings work, not proofread

a.n: i had so much fun with this series thank you all for the love !! sorry this took a little longer than expected i did not think this part would be so long 😭😭 MORE BEN TO COME TRUST !

benjicot series taglist: @poppyflower-22 @earth4angels @godofstory @melissaliciousx @jessie123878 @callsignwidow @kezibear @knight-of-flowerss @kitkat1sstuff @valdezthg @multyfangirl @duck-duck-goose2 @charvsz @bxdbxtxh15

part one - part two

As you had expected your parents were not happy with your wish to get married under the weirwood tree. Your father had been especially furious and the two of you got into a screaming match. You two have always had a playfully hateful relationship but you have never hated in the man and he you yet in these moments it was almost as if you two were enemies. Even your mother seemed more willing to give into the idea but your father was firm in denial which led you to now where the two of you would not even speak to one another.

You spent the majority of time with your mother though it was tense, she sort of danced around you as you mostly took reins on your wedding, picking out the food, contacting the seamstress for your dress it shocked your that your mother did not seem to be as involved until she dropped the bomb on you. “Your grandsire wishes for there to be a feast in your honor at the red keep. He,, wants to see you wedded in the sept.” you smash a glass on the ground as you glare at her. “And you tell me this now?!” “He is my father and your king, your grandsire he wishes to see you married,” she sighs as she watches you begin to pace around the room.

“So i am just meant to throw all the planning i have made out of the fucking window?!” Her face hardens, “I am your mother-” “then you should have told me! i would have been angry and furious but i would have compromised because he is the king but most of all you are my mother, and i shall always listen to my mother first.” Her face drops at your words, she walks over to you and grips your shoulders pressing her forehead against yours. “I am sorry. I should have told you sooner but you just seemed to happy and i dont know i did not want to ruin that for you. Maybe just wait a while longer to inform you.”

You sigh and take a step back before nodding. “I understand, well what am i to do with all ive done?” “We could hold a smaller event there?” You run you hands down along your face as you try not to curse. “So i am bound forever to have a boring wedding in front of the sept with every stuck up lord in all the kingdoms who wish to kiss my ass.” She laughs, “You sound so much like your father.”

You frown at the mention of your father and she grips your hand. “Speak to him.” You try to turn away at her words but she keeps you firmly in front of her. “He will never admit it but he misses you he has been mopping about since you two fought.”

You sigh. You hate to admit it but you miss him too and it pained you to see your mother upset that you too were not in a good place. So that night you walk out onto the beach to see him sitting on the dock staring out into the ocean. He does not turn to you when you sit down next to him but there is enough space between you two you are able to place the bottle of wine you had brought down with you.

“its seems we both lose father, i am to be married by a sept in kings landing.” He turns to you as you take a long sip from the bottle. “by whos decree?” “your brother, the king.” He takes the bottle as soon as you place it down and take a long chug from it. He sighs, “i will fight this, my daughter will not be married in a fucking sept.” “why? because its not the wedding you wished for me?” “because its not the wedding you want.”

You let out a stiff laugh with no joy in it as you admire the ocean. “im sorry.” You two sit in silence before he places a hand on your shoulder. No more words are exchanged but they dont need to be the two of you understand one another, actions speak louder than words.

The next day he argues against you getting married in the sept, much to everyone’s disbelief he flies out the next morning to kings landing to argue against it. It would be wrong for both of your beliefs, neither of you believe in the new gods and it would be out right disrespectful to both of you. After days of arguing with them, that you now know were the hightowers not so much your grandsire, daemon returned successful telling you a feast would be held in your honor but nothing more.

You are overjoyed and immediately run to write to benjicot about the news. True to his word the two of you had been exchanging letters back and forth since you left, the letters have been sweet, he tells you what he’s been up to, updates about the construction of the walk which is pretty much done and he even lets oscar and kermit write little notes to you asking you to come back because its boring with you around.

You had thought marriage would be miserable and leaving dragonstone would be much worse but this just proved to you your life would be full of a lot more joy then you had thought, you miss them, you miss being in raventree hall in the riverlands you miss the bright colored grass and waking up to the sound of ravens crowing and cattle moo’ing outside. You missed him.

The letters were nice but they could not fill the gap being without him made. You tended to tell him about your family and about the wedding preparations. The letters were always very sweet and normal until one day about one week away from your wedding a particular long letters is sent by ben to you and you were particularly curious about since he took much longer to write this one.

My love,

I hope all is still well since you last wrote to me. I apologize for the long wait i had been unsure of how to word my feelings properly as of late. I have been feeling particularly, off, as of late. Nothing bad of course but you have always run through my mind rampantly but as of recently i have begun to dream of you. See you when i close my eyes and when i think of you i begin to lose control of myself. My body my mind shivers and shakes at the thought of you. I should not say these things but it has been the only thing i have managed to think of. I imagine your lips, the way they had felt on mine but i imagine them going lower down my jaw to my neck down my chest.

Yet i would never allow you to go lower it would be rude you are a princess, i must worship you. find myself on my knees and defiling you. I imagine the way you would sound as i slipped my fingers inside you. would you scream in delight? or are you the type to sink your teeth into the side of my neck to silence yourself? would you be able to contain yourself as i lick at your most sacred area? would you pull on my hair has i wrap my lips around you bud? and when i stand to slide my way into you would your nails run marks down my back i am sure to be teased about?

i would wear your marks with honor. take me however you wish i would allow it i would let you do anything to me. I have imagined this all too well, so well in fact i have carved it into my memory that every night i must have to act upon my urges with my hand.

It is sinful and this letter is scandalous but i cannot stop myself. I dream of your perfume and the way it fills my lungs i could never get enough of you. Do you picture me? as i picture you?

with all my love, ben.

A knock on your door has you screaming and you slam a book on the letter as the maid walks into the room. One of your hands cover your mouth as you rush to take deep breaths. The maid looks startled at you as she almost drops the tray she had been holding in her hands. “tea?” you gesture her to place it on your table and she rushes to do so before she quickly leaves and you cannot manage to get your breath back to normal as you peer down at the letter once more. that monster! he had rejected all your teasing touches and scandalous words during your month there only to send such a letter to you now? right before the feast and your wedding? You stand up to pace as you think about what to do.

You first thought is to burn the letter and act like this never happened. But you did not want that. You liked the letter, a lot. Much more then you would like to admit with the way your soaked. You hate him. Why would he do this to you? An idea suddenly pops into your head and a grin appears on your face. You can play his game too, and win.

You rummage around in your drawers before finding what you wanted before running back to your desk and getting a paper in ink out before writing to him.

my beloved,

well hello to you too. you are certainly posses the best penmanship out of all the men ive ever written to. This was certainly a surprise to open up imagine i had been around my family! how awful. though before i begin i would like to tell you i have been well, and my dress has finally been completed though by your words that certainly does not matter much to you. Have a pictured you? you certainly already know the answer i have told you as much? do you remember the night you had rejected me out in the woods?

i had gone back to my room and touched myself in ways i had hoped you would. did you not hear me? when i cried your name on my lips as i peaked? i tried to be loud enough i guess i will need to try harder. You should know i am never one to be quiet. as for your predictions and thoughts i shall leave you guessing until our fateful wedding night but let me leave you with this. if you shiver at the mere thoughts of me you will certainly love what i plan to do to you.

if you forbid me from going on my knees then i can certainly find other ways to play with you. my hands would slide down your chest as i wrap my hands around your cock and stroke you until you are shaking and then i would push you back onto the bed and ride you until you are seeing stars. i would grab your hand and have your rub my bud as your hips thrusted up to meet mine in a fury and as you grow closer i will tell you to wait. and you’ll wait and wait and wait until you are begging me to let you release and when you do i will not stop. Maybe you’ll flip me over and take me again? who knows im just throwing out ideas.

i hope you’re taking notes as this is what how im expecting our long waited first night to go. since you missed my scent so much i hope this letter brings you some relief. and maybe even my other gift will too, they’re freshly washed maybe you’re disappointed by that you dirty man.

my heart,

you sign your name and grab your lipstick to apply it and press a kiss to the bottom on the page before soaking the letter in way too many sprays of your perfume before you roll it up and slip it into the small pouch you had put one of your pairs of underwear in before tying the small bag to your bird. “Go take this to benjicot.” Your bird flies off down the familiar path its probably done a hundred times by now and you try to shake off your nerves. Maybe you shouldnt have done that. what if someone else gets to it? you won’t know until you see him in the keep as he certainly wont have enough time to get one out to you now.

You ring the bell and ask the maids to run you a cold bath. as cold as they can make it. You begin to feel sticky and you could not stop lightly shaking as your hands itched to bring you some sort of comfort but you forbid yourself until you got into the bath and dismissed the maids knowing nobody would bother you for the rest of the night.

You anxiously await seeing him. you had ridden with your parents and viserys joffrey and aegon in a carriage having left your dragon in raventree not too long ago with some maesters until you return soon. You arrived a day earlier than your siblings and benjicot and rush to see your siblings the second they arrive. You have a quick greeting with them until you urge them to follow you.

“Why the rush dear sister?” “Maybe because she is eager to see her soon to be husband jace.” baela laces her arm through yours and grins at you. “I am excited to meet this mystery man, father even talks highly of him.” “and father talks highly of no one.” rhaena cut in but you merely laugh and shake your head. “Or maybe it is because i am eager to get this feast over with who wants to spend the evening with the fucking hightowers?”

They were completely right. you were more than excited to see ben and looked around the compound for him as soon as you arrived. You force down the pout that grows on your face as you cant seem to see him anywhere and turn to your siblings who all stare with a knowing look. “What? don’t look at me like that?” Jace places a hand on your shoulder but the mischievous grin he has on his face offers you no comfort. “Don’t cry dear sister im sure he will show up soon.” You slap his arm off your shoulder as they begin to laugh and you roll your eyes. “You are an insufferable little shit.”

“she does not deny she is about to cry oh dont cry dear sister.” you knock lucerys on the head and he winces, “once you can hold a fucking sword in your hand then you can speak to me like that.” “You’re so mean sister.” you open your mouth to argue but a whistle behind you and when you turn around a big grin forms on your face. You rush away from your siblings and when you get close enough he wraps you in his arms and spins you around once before setting you back down on the ground and pressing his forehead against yours.

As much as you wish to kiss him you know that would cause too much of a scandal so you simple press a kiss against his cheek as he grins. “I have missed you.” “I missed you a lot more.” You press your head into his neck where you lips are right next to his ear. “Did you like my letter?” He hums as his arms tighten around you, his head dips into the crook of your neck and he takes a long deep breath in. “did i like it?,” you feel him pinch at your side, “You know the answer.” you pull away slightly and look him in the eye. “And what of my gift?” He rubs his nose against yours as he lets out a shaky breath. “the things i have done with your gift are, unspeakable.” you feel the heat build up in your face as you slap him his shoulder and push him away.

“no hugs for us?” You turn to oscar and kermit and you throw your arms around their shoulders. Your siblings had walked over at some point and had begun introducing themselves so when you turn back around it looks like they are full on interrogating him. When you slip your arm though bens he shoots you a smile that screams ‘please save me’. Jace in particular has his arms crossed as he glares at ben, “oh relax jace he is a nice man.” your brother huffs and benjicot wipes a bead of sweat that drops down his forehead.

“You’re scaring him, trust me if he wanted to defile me i gave him many the opportunity yet my purity is in tact.” This has your brother tensing as baela covers her mouth with a laugh, “Whatever are you talking about?” “when i had waited for him in the library in nothing but my silk night gown he merely took off his cloak and told me i must be cold imagine my disappointment.” he deadpans as he looks between the two of you and turns back to you alarmed when ben merely turns away with his ears bright red “tell me you are jesting.” “if it will make you feel better.” “it would.” “then of course i was kidding! do you really think i am so deprave?”

he glares at you as a guard walks over and tells you your parents wished to see you and you turn to ben who squeezes your hand. “i shall see you later.” he lifts up your hand to press a kiss on the back before he walks off with a small wave. “he seems sweet, you pick well dear sister” You smile at baela and thank her as you watch ben walk off with oscar and kermit in his tail. it really hits you that you’re going to be married in a few days time and you cant help but grow more and more excited. “you really like him.” “i do.”

Your afternoon is a blur, you watch as your siblings greet your parents and dreadfully greet alicent and her children who look less than happy to see any of you but you all suck it up for the sake of the day knowing you’ll be gone before the sun even rises tomorrow. You are suddenly rushed to your room to get dressed in some fancy dress and some ridiculous hair that has you itching. its just for one night, you repeat to yourself over and over agin in the hopes you will not tear off your clothes or scratch at your hair so the pins would fall out.

The only thing that brings you relief is seeing benjicot sitting with the rest of your family at the end table with a spot empty right next to you. “well you clean up nicely.” He certainly did. His hair slicked back away from his forehead while outfit is completely black with red accents, if you look closely you could see little ravens stitched into the fabric. a light blush covers his face as he looks you up and down as he smiles, “you are the prettiest woman ive ever seen.” you slap his shoulder lightly as your grin, “and you are the most handsome man ive ever seen” his chest puffs up at your complimentary words and he helps you into your seat.

Your grandsire and your parents give speeches you don’t bother to listen to simply playing with bens fingers under the table until people start coming up to you to give you there congratulations. this was the part you hated the most, where every lord and lady comes up and tells you how happy they are for you and sneakily try to tell you they brought a very nice gift that you will probably never look at and you have to sit there with a painful smile as benjicot took over as you barely even wanted to look at these people. He was a much better communicator than you were and everyone who spoke to him seemed please you were happy at least one of you would be good at dealing with the stuck up lord and ladies.

Except when he walked up and you could tell he was growing angry. you place a hand on his chest and scoot up further in your chair in a silent motion telling him you’ll handle this. “lord braken,” he bows his head and aeron practically hides behind his father, “what a pleasure.” benjicot laces his fingers with yours and squeezed them tightly as he tried not to speak. “congratulations are in order princess what a wonderful occasion.” you grind your jaw as you smile and nod, “thank you lord braken.” He does allow his eyes to look at benjicot for a moment before he looks back at you. This was not going to be good.

“though it is quite a shame you are marrying a man of, his nature.” benjicots knees hits the table and everyones eyes turn to look at him but he remains silent. You grip his hand tightly but keep your eyes on the lord braken. you can see aeron tug on the his fathers back trying to get him to step back and walk away but lord braken does not falter. so you lean across the table and grin at him, “if you do not get the fuck out of my sight in the next five seconds you and your family will be nothing but food for my fucking dragon so i suggest you walk away. Now.”

He laughs awkwardly and takes a couple steps back as you settle back into your seat, “good day.” he quickly runs away and you begin to laugh. You turn to benjicot pleased and see him admiring you, “what?” he just shakes his head, “i really like you.” you blow raspberries as you try to ignore pounding of your heart and the heat in your stomach, “i would hope so.”

He suddenly stands and you look at him confused until he holds his hand out to you, “would my lady like to dance with me?” You grab his hand and let him pull you up, “you sure you want to i am an awful dancer?” he leads you to the floor anyway, “im sure you’re better than you say.” you laugh, “if you say so, if your feet begin to bruise its not my fault.”

You are a fine dancer, maybe a little sloppy and out of practice but he is more than happy to dance with you. You felt so happy like it could never get better than this, just you and benjicot. The rest of the night went just as well, no more annoying lord as you spent the rest of night on the dance floor until the two of you called it a night.

you would head back to dragonstone for some final prep while benjicot head to raventree hall for the wedding. You did not want to leave him once again but he assured you these last couple days would fly by and your wedding would be here before you knew it. “once this is all over we’ll get to spend the rest of our lives together.” You would be flying back alone and the rest of your family would be traveling together in carriage to raventree hall and you would meet them there as after the wedding they would come back to king's landing.

It was odd packing up all your stuff, your room now barren and empty. all the things you’ve ever known packed up in boxes. It did not bother you much to leave kings landing it never felt like home despite never knowing anywhere else but here? in dragonstone where you grew up with your siblings? where you learned how to use a sword? you find yourself staring at the castle before forcing yourself into the carriage and letting it take you and all your stuff to raventree hall. You did not think you would cry but you do and you’re thankful nobody else is there to see it.

Its snowing. all the land that the eye could see was covered in snow. Raventree hall is packed by the time you arrive and people rush to you the second you jump out of the carriage, “please theres enough of me to go around.” oscar rolls his eyes and grabs you, “come on you need to see this.” he drags you off with kermit not too far behind and you have no clue what he could be showing you until you are standing in front of it. “wow.” “i know right, its amazing.”

The boarder between the lands stood tall, the dark oak wood towers over you, its much taller than you had thought it would be. oscar smacks you on the shoulder, “this wouldn’t be possible without you my benevolent princess.” he dips into a low bow and you cant help but laugh, “yes i am rather charitable dont you think? it is my duty to help the needy.” You hope it makes him happy, the stones gone and you can no longer even see the braken castle. “does he like it?” kermit laughs at your question, “like it? i swear he’s never looked happier.”

The three of you are soon dragged back to the castle walls and you are forced into the main hall. Benjicot is not there much to your disappointment but two very unfamiliar faces are. You quickly find out they are lord cregan stark and his wife alysanne stark aka benjicots aunt. “it is so nice to finally meet you princess. Benji writes so much about you.” ”no need to be so formal alysanne we are to be family.”

with your que alysanne, who begged you call her aly, asks you many questions about your relationship with benjicot and you ask her about the north where cregan buts in and the three of you engage in a very long conversation. The two of them are very nice people and they make you promise to come to the north sometime to spend some time there and you assure them you will.

as the night grows later you find it odd benjicot has not come out to greet you until you find out the two of you are not to see each other until you walk down the aisle. Its just one more night, one more night until you spend the rest of your lives together. You toss and turn that night despite the fact everyone told you to get as much rest as possible. you stare up at the ceiling and wonder if benjicot is in the same state, if he cant sleep because he’s thinking about you.

You certainly have no time to be exhausted when you are immediately woken up and tossed into a whirlwind of events. a piece of bread is shoved into your mouth as maids urge you into the bath, scrubbing you down head to toe. You barely have any idea whats going on until your mother walks into the room and she gasps at you. “you look beautiful.” they had been working on your hair for only the gods know how long but you had been tied tightly into your dress. your mother stands before you with tears in her eyes, “oh look at you.”

“oh don’t cry mother ill ruin my makeup.” you cannot handle seeing her cry, already overwhelmed with emotions. she wipes the tears off her face but they dont seem to stop leading your eyes to well up so badly one of the maids had to walk over and put a cloth near your eyes to catch the tears. “i am so happy for you.” “thank you mother.”

she nods and composes herself, sitting on the bed and you narrow your eyes at her serious look. “what?” she sighs and runs her hands along her skirt. “there are things that happen on your wedding night,” “oh my gods.” you turn around and the maids rush around you to continue working on your hair. “i have to tell you this, unless you already know.” you look at her through the mirror and you can tell what she means immediately by her words. “do you all think so low of me everyone assumes i have been defiled? i am as a girl my age is.” she lets out a sigh of relief but she ends up tilting your head at your wording. “what does that mean?” “it means i have touched myself.” the maids freeze at your words and so does your mother but you shrug. “what? i am a growing women.” “how do you even know about that?” “father gave me a book.” “daemon?”

The man in question walks into the room and every pair of eyes turns to look at him. “what?” “father remember that book you gave me?” daemon looks up and he looks thoroughly confused until a flash comes across his face and he brightens up with a laugh. “yes yes i remember.” rhaenyra glares at him but he just shrugs, “she was complaining to me about feeling, pains, and i simply provided her the resources to make it go away.” she glares at him and mumbles something about them talking about it later.

Your father eyes you, “face me.” you turn around again as the maids finally finish and they all stepped away from you. rhaenyra stands next to daemon the two look at you. you see the tears in rhaenyras eyes again and she wipes them away. “oh my beautiful girl.” daemon says nothing but he has an unreadable face as he stares at you. you punch him lightly in the stomach, “not even going to tell me i look pretty?” he lightly chuckles, “you already know that.” you pout at him, “it would be nice to hear.” he grabs yours shoulders and you are shocked by the sudden contact, “you are the prettiest princess in the whole realm.” you would normally think hes kidding, his word choice as comedic as always but you can tell he’s being serious. “thank you father.”

Before you know it you are being looked over once more before being taken outside for the ceremony. You had not taken into account when designing your dress that it would be snowing but luckily alys had brought her wedding cloak for you to wear. She had worn it when she got married in the cold snowy winter in winterfell and assured you it would keep you as warm as a freshly baked bread. You almost tear up again at the gesture but you try your best to compose yourself. your father stands at your side and you loop your arm through his.

“can you believe that when you crushed my toe with your heel we would end up like this?” you laugh and shove him with your elbow and he laughs with you. “see are you now thankful i insisted we leave that night.” he hums but says nothing and you look at him. He looks, sad? you turn to him and grab his hands. “i shall visit you father i promise, you will not grow older and bitter without me.” he rolls his eyes but he looks more than pleased at your words, “then i shall bother you for the rest of my life.” you groan as the two of you stand back into proper place. “oh please i take it all back i did not mean it.”

with one final laugh he ques for the doors to be open and the first thing you notice is the cold rush that hits your face. you close your eyes at the rush but make sure to maintain your pace, the covering you have on your face doing nothing to protect you. yet when you finally open your eyes you see the face of everyone you love yet your eyes cant seem to tear away from him. Standing tall infront of the weirwood tree you almost burst into tears. dawned with furs and his hair slicked back once again, his hair is covered in white snow flakes with a bright smile on his face. he wipes his eyes quickly as you begin to get closer. you turn to your father who lifts up your veil and presses a small kiss on your forehead before walking off and you stand in front of benjicot.

His eyes swell up as he looks at you and you cant help but do the same. “you are so beautiful.” he whispers to you as the maester begins to speak. the ceremony is everything you could have dreamed of and more. Your hands tied together and words spoken in sync, sealing you together forever with a perfect kiss. it was the most magical moment of your life. the crowd cheers as you look up at the ravens who stare you down and you can hear morningstar roar in the background this day could not get any better.

the feast afterwards was much better than the one in the red keep. nobody bothering, no need to pretend for a single second you were overjoyed and ben could not keep his hands off you, calling you his wife any chance he could get. though you could barely eat, too excited for the events that will occur after you call it a night and it seemed ben could not wait either as his hands massaged any skin he could get and he pressed his head into your neck to smell you.

after way too long you two finally call it a night, ignoring the whistles of your friends you sprinted down the halls with bens hand in yours as the two of you laugh. You finally reach his room and the two of you simply stare at one another with stupid smiles. “have i told you that you are gorgeous?” you take a step towards him and he does the same, “only a couple hundred times.” his lips dance over yours and his next words come out as a hushed whisper, “i feel as though i have not done it enough.”

he kisses you slowly as his hands find its way to your back and begin to untie the dress much slower than you would like. his lips trail down your neck and you throw your head back. as he continues to unlace every tie, “ben.” you hear him rumble in annoyance, “why does this thing have so many ties?” you laugh and reach behind you to help him and your dress suddenly drops to the floor, leaving you bare in front of him. He steps back and his eyes dart all over your body.

You smirk and spin around for him, “you pleased?” he jumps you like a dog you fall back onto the bed with a squeal as he grips your tits in his hands, “i am more than fucking pleased.” you moan as his hands continue to knead at your skin and his lips dance around your collarbone. “you are wearing too much.” you manage to get out as you would much rather feel his skin against yours. he laughs and pulls away from you, “as my lady commands.” you sit up on your elbows as you watch him strip down into nothing licking your lips at him. he crawls back onto of you and you run your hands down his chest, “you were hiding all this under your stupid tunics.” he pinches your slide as his hands find your core and rub the folds of your slit, “does my lady wish for me to wear no shirt?” “your lady wishes for you to stick your fingers inside her.”

he does exactly as you say and grip his shoulder, his fingers were longer than yours, thicker and more coarse, which just two fingers he can reach places you had only ever dreamed about. “please ben.” “please what?” “another one.” he adds another finger and his lips wrap around one of your nipples as his free hand places with your other one. His fingers suddenly press just right against your walls and you cry out, “right there oh fuck.” he continues to hit that point over and over as his thumb circled around your clit. the stimulation of his fingers and his mouth are too much for you to bare and your legs shake as you release all over his fingers.

when he pulls his fingers out he wraps them around his cock. you whine at his actions and wiggle your hips towards him, “please fuck me ben.” he laughs and moans as his hand quickens, “i thought you had so many wonderful ideas of what were were going to do?” “lets save it for another night, ben please.”

“anything my lady says.” with a couple more tugs of his hand he lines himself up before he pushes into you slowly. it aches. stretches you out you begin to hiss, he presses his lips against yours as he slides in fully. the two of you stay like that for awhile. he doesn’t dare move an inch without your okay. he pulls away from your lips and grips your face with his hands, “are you good?” you nod and test the waters by moving your hips a little. It did not ache as much and the sound he lets out is more than enough to please you. “fuck me.” he looks at you for assurance and you nod right before he begins to move his hips. your legs wrap around his hips and you shove your head into his neck as he pounds into you.

your hands scratch down his back and he hisses, “fuck you feel so good.” you can do nothing but mumble nonsense as you such into the skin of his neck. the room full of the sounds of skin slapping and the wet sounds of him pushing in and out of you. You bite into his neck once his hand slips between you too and plays with your clit once again. “ben,” you could not stop the bubble feeling in your stomach, the hot rushes all over your body. your skins burned against one another you could start a fire. “im gonna,” you words have him somehow moving fast and you feel him nod against you, “please do please.” you realize he has been waiting for you to release, most likely already way beyond his peak. once he feels you spur around him he also release, painting the inside of your walls.

the two of you lay still. he does not dare slip out of you. the two of you are sweaty and sticky but you have never been happier when he pulls back to look at you. “we should have been doing thats sooner.” you laugh and slap his chest, “i was trying you fool but you would not give in.” you feel him grow harder inside of you but he slips out suddenly, before you can whine about feeling empty he flips you back over and quickly slips back into you. “lets make up for lost time then.”

[hybridirl]

i’ve never done this before…

18 + only, please!

ellie x f!loser!reader

a/n: so basically i was on janitor ai because i’m genuinely an addicted freak and this was inspired by a chat i had :3 im also replaying tlou2 bc i cant stop i need it i need it i need it. also i think a LOT more things make sense now, so i think you should replay after u play it.

brief summary: ellie is ur big sister’s best friend! but, unfortunately you’re dubbed an “annoying little sister,” your sister’s not home, ellie’s high when she comes over, and ur a loser nerd who can’t deal with confrontation :(. (au if it wasn’t obvious!)

tw / DUBCON?, ellie is very mean, degrading, praise, pet names, reader is a virgin, small age gap if you really squint, porn without a plot, rushed sex, scissoring (tribbling?), use of y/n i think…

⋆ ˚｡⋆ ꪆৎ ˚

with a grunt, you pulled your pajama pants up the rest of the way. you were headed to the door after hearing seven hard knocks on the door.

“hello—“ you began, cutting yourself off when you see ellie, your sister’s best friend. “ellie?” you glanced behind her, then behind yourself. “she’s not home right now.”

“yeah, yeah,” she slurred, and your lips went into a thin line from her state, so obviously intoxicated. “she told me come ‘n wait. she’s gettin’ her shit rocked, ‘r whatever. she dropped me off ‘ya know? said you wouldn’t mind. you don’ mind, do you?”

being such a caring person had its ups and downs. you weren’t fond of ellie, and she wasn’t fond of you. she had been your biggest bully throughout the entirety of middle and high school. but, you couldn’t deny her entry. she could get hurt or worse, and you didn’t want that. or to be responsible of it.

you adjusted your glasses, eyeing her with a thoughtful look. her eyes were halflidded, red, and she smelled disgusting. she eyed you right back, her stare almost intimidating.

“no, ellie. i don’t mind,” you said begrudgingly, stepping aside to allow her in. you watched her make her way around the all-too-familiar home while you shut the door. you mentally prepared yourself for tending to her needs; you knew she’d tell if you hadn’t. you also prepared for the anger she would inevitably feel. she was an angry person when intoxicated. you leaned against the door and watched her opened the fridge.

“what do you got?” ellie asked, shutting the refrigerator and looking at you. “what’re you gonna make?”

“i don’t know,” you responded and took a glance at the stove. you hadn’t noticed what she took from the fridge, only gasping when you heard the familiar sound of a beer opening. “hey, hey, hey! that’s my dad’s!” you watched ellie shrug and give you a “so what?” look. “stop it, that’s not good for you!” you rushed over, reaching for the beer, but her rough hand kept you in place as she chugged it down. “ellie, stop! you’re already high, that’s gonna make it worse; ellie, stop!”

“and what the fuck do you know?” she asked as she slammed the beer bottle of the counter, “you stupid fuckin’ loser, what the fuck is wrong with you? i’ll do what-the-fuck-ever i want. you’re such a fucking lame-ass, you won’t even take a lil sip o’ this thing,” she stuck the beer can up to your mouth, which you turned away from, “that’s what i thought, you stupid bitch. you’re probably a virgin, too, huh? you don’t even try- nobody even tries for you. no man, no woman, no whatever. never been in a relationship, never been in fuckin’ nothing. you are such a fucking loser.”

your jaw was slack, almost looking like a fish out of water as it tried to shut and open.

“you’re too high for this,” you said slowly, still shocked at her words. you took a step back, your back pressing against the island counter.

“you don’t know the first thing about ‘too high,’ jackass. bet you never had a dick in you before. too busy studyin’ your stupid fucking books to be the good girl you are. can’t even do this because you’re always bein’ a teacher’s pet, always bein’ a goody-two-shoes, know it all, fucking bitch. probably got a few toys like the desperate freak you are. maybe a dildo? nah, you want that pussy t’stay tight, huh?” you thought it couldn’t get worse than the insults before, but this was insane. your eyes were wide, shock filling your features.

“ellie!” you gasped in horror and embarrassment, “i— i’m calling my sister!”

“you’re a fucking snitch!” she giggled, pointing at you. “she doesn’t care what the fuck i’m saying to you. she’s too busy slutting herself out to give a fuck about your pathetic ass, baby.”

“go away, ellie,” you whimpered out, eyes at the ground. you attempted to push past her, but her hands gripped your wrists. “please.”

“you’re not getting rid of me,” she growled, her beer-breath filling your nostrils, “you’re a goddamn joke. i’m not going anywhere ‘til i’m good ‘n ready. you just know i’m right.” she leaned in, her lips brushing your cheek as she whispered deep into your ear, “you just want my hands all over you, don’t you, y/n? i’ve seen how you watched me. you want a real woman’s hands on ‘ya. all of over your pretty body, hm?”

“no,” you whispered right back, your brows furrowed. this was your sister’s best friend. this was just… wrong; you couldn’t explain it, but it wasn’t right. and she was high! she didn’t know what she was doing, what she was saying, but her touch felt so…

“don’t you lie to me,” she huffed her breath hot in your ear, “you wanna get touched bad. you know you do. you want my hands slidin’ down your pretty panties and touchin’ that clit. make you cum all on my hand. you want that, don’t you?”

“ellie,” you almost moaned out at her dirty talk, your brows knitted together in conflict. your hand went to cover your mouth as her hand slipped beneath the waistband of your pjs and simultaneously your underwear.

“let it out, baby,” she told as your hand muffled a broken moan, “you’re already so, so wet for me. this pussy’s just beggin’ for my touch, huh?” her finger-pad ran across your clit and your knees buckled. she giggled in response, a lazy grin plastered on her face. “mm, ya feel that? this’s what y’ve been missin’ out on with all that nerdy bullshit you do.” her fingers slipped easily inside you, making your eyes roll with pleasure; another moan escaped your throat. “y’so tight. just like i thought.” she pulled her fingers out, quickly giving them a lick before tugging your bottoms down. “oh, baby…” she moaned at the sight, licking her lips as she took you in. “look at that pretty pussy. mhm, ‘n all f’r me, huh?” she knelt down, getting face to face with your cunt. “answer me.” she kissed at your inner thighs. all you could do was watch, trembling under her dominating touch.

you yelped, jumping in surprise as she bit your thigh harshly.

“i said answer.”

“y-yes! all for you, ‘s all for you,” you whimpered, whining as her mouth finally met with your drooling pussy. your resolve had slipped away, only thinking about that needy, touch-starved vulva of yours. “oh, ellie…” she grinned as she watching you come undone, your fingers slipping into her hair and tugging at it. she lapped and lapped at your clit, tongue running circles around the sensitive bud. she gave it a last kiss before she pulled away, smirking at your distress.

“preview, baby. all that was. go to your room, m’followin’ you.”

you were anxious to walk, taking just a moment before giddily rushing to your room. the masculine woman easily followed your direction, shutting the door hard behind her as she pulled you down to the bed with her. her hands were immediately on you as you lay atop her, caressing and running down your back, cupping your ass and squeezing.

“you’re so ready for me baby, aren’t you?” she asked with a small smirk playing at her lips. “you wanna grind that pretty pussy on mine, don’t you?”

“i-i’ve never done this before, i-i don’t know what to do,” you admitted, although she already knew your circumstance.

“makin’ me do all the work, you pretty lil pillow princess?” she teased, that same lazy grin on her face. she easily flipped you over, watching your eyes widen in surprise. “god, how are you so perfect…” she moaned softly to herself, her hands running down your sides, down your legs, and down your calves. she reached her jeans, unbuttoning them and tugging them down quickly. you gulped as you eyed her pubic mound, her dark hair trimmed finely.. she lifted your hips up, appreciating your vulva once more. she used her thumb to lift up your clitoral hood, bending down to meet the pearl with her tongue. “mm, god, i can’t get enough of you. pull your shirt up, wanna see those tits ‘ve been wantin’ to see.” you did as you were told, quickly pulling your nightshirt up and showing her your breasts. a groan left her throat as her hands reached out to touch them, tweaking and rolling your nipples between her fingers.

“please,” you whined, your head tilted back. “please, ellie…”

“oh, i know you’re so needy, huh? never done this before? never been touched so good by another girl b’fore, huh?” ellie teased once more, and all you could do was nod. it was all true. “say it, baby. tell me how much of a loser you are.”

with an embarrassed grimace, you obliged, “i-i’m a big loser. ‘ve never, ever gotten laid ‘n i wanna… oh!” you gasped as you felt the sensation of her pussy meet yours. “ellie…” her hips ground against yours, your clits bumping and running across each other.

“you like this? my pussy all over yours?” she growled, rolling her hips to meet your cunt. “fuck, you’re so wet.” you moaned out, your hands trying to find a place to stay as they flailed. they gripped the sheets and you watched above as her pussy slid across yours. you both glistened with a thin layer of sweat, your bodies becoming hot with arousal. “you feel so fucking good.”

“yes,” you cried, “more.” and she gave you more, her hips rolling with fervor while you writhed in pleasure. “p-please— ellie!”

“yeah, scream my name you little slut,” she purred, her auburn hair sticking to her sweaty face. “let ‘em know— let the neighbors know you’re finally getting laid.”

you continued to moan her name, completely drunk on this feeling. she let out small little ‘just like that’s’ as your voice echoed off the walls of your room.

it was intense, your bodies moving together and so perfectly in sync. sweat dripped from her forehead onto your belly, slightly coating your skin. her hands gripped your chest as she ground against you, the position slightly awkward, but pleasing nonetheless as your heats mushed together in symphony. sloppy squelches filled your ears, almost drowned out by your moans and cries as she took you.

“i’m gonna,” you began, tears welling up in your pretty eyes, “i’m gonna cum, ellie!”

“yeah? right on my pussy? cum right on my pussy, baby,” she moaned, her hands reaching her cup her own breast. you moaned, following her command like a dog as your canal contracting around nothing, costing her slick folds in all your essence. your body convulsed as you came, and the sight forced a moan out of her throat. “yeah, that’s it, my good girl, fu—ck… i’m cumming!” with her orgasm following in suit, she gripped your leg hard, riding out her orgasm as you tried to come down from your own. you whined from the overstimulation, feeling her arousal spread out on your flesh. she shushed you, her index finger on your lips as she calmed her breathing. she dropped your leg, plopping beside you with a grunt.

“t-that was good,” you said to her, your eyes lingering on her glistening face.

“mhm, now you get to brag to a—ll your nerdy, little virgin friends that you,” she jabbed a finger, “got laid.”

“you’re mean,” you huffed, a little pout on your face. she smirked, bringing a hand to the back of your neck and bringing you in to kiss.

“yeah?” she chuckled, “but you like it.”

[a-hazbin-reader]

Okay we also see Alastor go ham and how wifey swoons over him but now what if wifey let lose, like someone threatens him or the hotel and before anyone could react she dashes forward killing them brutally and mercilessly?

🥵

Alastor X Reader Headcanons

✅️Romantic

❌️Platonic

TW: Violence, Blood, Wifey is crazy, Suggestive

Description: ☝️⬆️

Not many people know that Alastor's wife is a badass, mostly because you're content to watch and support your husband on the sidelines

But that doesn't mean you aren't your own kind of terrifying, you're a bad bitch and that's how you pulled your husband

He knows you can take care of yourself and loves it when you put someone in their place, he even likes it when you put him in his place 😏

Everyone is so used to Alastor protecting you that they never consider what you're capable of, your husband is just being a gentleman

But Alastor knows this and looks forward to the times you want to handle things yourself

Someone is harassing you on the street? Being crude and disgusting to you because they assume you're just some random dame?

Your husband simply looks at you to see if you want him to handle it or not, he would love to teach this punk a lesson for you

But he gets excited when you shake your head and start taking off your jewelry, holding his hand out to hold it for you

"Oh? Do come back dirty for me, I'll lick you clean~"

"Promise?"

He just watches you pummel the street urchin with a satisfied smile on his face, letting out a lovesick sigh at the sound of your victim's screams

"Isn't she a vision, Husker? Look at the way the blood drips down her body~ Absolute poetry in motion~"

Husk just sighs and chugs a bottle of booze, already so done with the two of you

"Yeah, uh, she's really somethin'..."

Alastor lets out a happy hum and turns back to watch you, completely enamored by the sight of you

"She really is~"

You try to help your husband in a fight? Well suddenly its just you figuring because Alastor stops to watch the show

"Alastor, aren't you going to help her..?"

He almost doesn't hear Charlie speaking to him, a cloud of hearts practically fluttering around him as he stares at you, frozen in place

"And deprive myself of this beautiful sight? Now, that would be a true sin... Look to your left, my dear!"

He actually has to cover his mouth with his hand to hide his blush when you spin around and impale them, blowing your husband a kiss

"Thank you, darling~"

His tail is wiggling with happiness, dramatically catching the kiss and keeping it close to his heart

Charlie thinks at some point she hears him whistling at you but she doesn't want to look and confirm

Or when someone tries to hurt your family, Alastor has seen you lose your shit because you caught someone trying to assassinate him

One moment, he's relaxed and snuggling with his darling wife and the next, he hears a crash and sees you throwing the attacker across the room

And he'll be damned if he doesn't say that it does something to him to see you like that

You're practically feral as you tear apart the screaming demon, a blinding rage taking you over

"How dare you come into MY HOME! Try to hurt MY HUSBAND!"

Alastor is nearly blushing, flustered and pulling on his collar as he watches you defend him like he's some helpless little demon

"Darling, you sure do know how to make your husband hot under the collar, don't you~?"

He catches one of your hands mid strike and takes you out of your rage, unable to stop himself from kissing your blood covered face

He can't help it, seeing you so angry and violent reminds him of when he first met you-

The would-be-attacker is still alive, a weak hand coming up to grab at your ankle when you suddenly use your own powers to finish him off

You're too busy being kissed and fondled by your husband to devote any more attention to them

He hoists you up suddenly, your legs wrapping around him as he steps over the body of your victim, leaving the room to take you upstairs instead

He nuzzles his face against your neck, distracting you from glaring at the corpse in the other room

"Do you think you could toss me like that, darling?"

"Alastor~!"

Wifey is just a doll 😍

[jaysswlvrr]

Once mine, Always mine

!possessive heeseung x !afab reader

warnings☆: !drunk reader, pet names: princess, pretty boy, baby; heeseung is possessive and SLIGHTEST bit rough until ending part, crying, swearing, unprotected, bsf to lovers, dirty talk ;I think I missed a lot>

☆☆long and even longer smut part☆☆

summary☆: your out in the bar with ur bsf who u have had a crush on for many years, you get drunk and start to confess yourself to him but another man starts touching you, heeseung cant stand the sight and reminds you who you belong to.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

You had about your fifth cup of beer, heeseung watching u as you finished the the last slip, chuckling at ur small eye-twitch to the strong drink. You were so lightheaded, you had forgotten your best friends name. Forgotten your name.

Slowly looking up you notice the handsome man in front of you. You smirked and leaned in closer to him. Touching him the soft material of his jacket.

"What's your name, pretty boy?" he widened his eyes, he didn't know you had so many drinks you forgot his name.

"Heeseung" you gasped, chuckling as that name ran through your head. That name sounded familiar.

"That's my crushes name!" you paused for a second as heeseung slightly raised his brows slowly smirking.

"Oh I see" he said as he leans closer as well.

"Tell me more about this... crush" You cleared your throat ready to describe him.

"Well, he's really cute and hot, Whenever he comes over to my house in his grey sweatpants he makes me soaking wet, I wish he could man-handle me and pin me to a wall with his big veiny hands, stretch me out with his load, but he'll never cuz I'm so ugly and dumb and-" he cuts you off by kissing you, grabbing a handful of your hair, making your lips part, giving him entrance to your mouth.

Your tongues tangled together, he starts sucking on your tongue like you were his dinner. Running it around every inch of your mouth. You ran out of your breath pulling away from him, staring right into his dark eyes. It felt like forever until you heard one of your favourite songs play.

"Ill be right back heesung" you say, all tipsy before blowing him a kiss, you get another drink and chug it down. He chuckled...

"Its heeseung" he spoke to himself, keeping an eye on you.

You were in the middle of everyone, swaying hips, messy hair, short dress and flashing lights, everyone was looking at you whilst you were only looking at heeseung, trying to lure him to you.

He's man-spread on his chair, biting his lips at he watched your every move.

"Fuck, what are you doing to me y/n" he stops talking when he sees a man approach you, and drag you to the bartender, getting you another drink.

You guys seem like your having a lovely time together, laughing, but it got weird when he started touching you, he pulled you closer as if about to kiss you when

boom

He was face flat on the floor with one punch.

"Pathetic"

You looked up to see heeseung staring at the poor guy on the floor, smirking at his work, in disbelief you drag him to a quieter corner, still contaminated by the alcohol.

"Why would you"- hiccup "do that heesung" you said pointing a finger in his face.

He wraps his hands around your waist, as you wrap your hands around his neck, he pushes you to the wall, roughly kissing you, rubbing his raging boner on you.

"cant get enough of you"

He said in between kisses, you nodded you head, going back in for another hungry kiss, not wanting to stop the moment as it felt like forever since you've kissed someone.

"lets continue this at home baby"

You were sitting in the front of his car, rubbing your thighs together whilst whimpering for him to hurry up and get to his apartment. He grabs your thighs separating them with just two fingers. You look up at him to see his face so angry but so full of lust.

He turns back focusing on driving again.

"Gonna fuck you so hard you brat, gonna make your little cunt all red and shiny, 'm gonna have you on your knees begging for me"

He starts driving again, speeding through the highway, before finally reaching his luxury apartment, he quickly runs out the car, going to your side and helping you up.

As soon as he walks in, you both take off your outdoor clothing, he grabs your hand dragging you to his bedroom, he pushes you flat on his bed before hovering above you.

"fuck I've wanted to do this so long y/n" he pecks your lips, you tug at his jeans which he takes of in an instant. They weren't doing a very good job hiding his bulge, but damnn.

He was huge.

"your abs are nice" you say with dozy eyes, motivating him more as you has already took your clothes off leaving you with your light purple lingerie. He noticed it as soon as he looked up.

"you wore that for me right princess?" he says, climbing on the bed again as he pulls down your bra, circling his tongue around one of your nipple. You moaned at the surprising touch, nodding you head at his question.

"Come here, come sit on my dick" He's at the edge of the bed manspreading again you smirked again, making your way slowly to him.

"You're so hot when you spread your legs like that" He grins, holding your hips making you sink onto him both of you letting out pleasurable moans as he stretched you out.

"that feels good, yeah princess?" he slowly starts moving you up and down onto him, you look down in embarrassment as you just realised that he was your best friend but he stops you.

"Eyes up here baby" that nickname goes straight to your core pleasuring you even more as he starts thrusting up into you. You cant even look at him in the eye as he's leaned back a bit, elbows supporting him, his brows are forced together as he bits down on his already red, plump, lips.

"What happened, realised who I am yet?" he chuckles, grabs your hips and starts pounding into you, you start moaning louder, like you were in cloud 9 with the man you've had a crush on for agess.

"Fuck hee- just shut up" you manage to make it out between moan he scoffs.

"Realised your fucking your best friend and you carry on, I see who you are y/n, such a slut, do anything to get filled up wont you" you nod your head, tears rolling down your face in embarrassment.

He pulls out of you earning a whine but lays you on your stomach before pulling you up by your hips and charged into you with no remorse.

"Heeseung!" you yelled as he starts ranting into you again, so close to his release he snakes his hands around you until he reaches your core rubbing up your folds quickly, huffing, and swearing under his breath, you other hand are sobbing because of his animalistic speed.

"Don't cry babyy- fuck- you know it feels so goo- oh fuck" he cums inside of you, shooting his cream right into you, you follow right after, legs trembling. Your neighbours definitely know what your are doing as your practically screaming his name.

He pulls out slowly, laying you on your back, following the same actions he looks at you and you do the same. Both trying to catch your breath but he breaks the silence

"I'm your boyfriend now, right?" he bits his lips at you, you cover your face in embarrassment.

"Why are you so hot" you say under your breath.

"What was that?" he has a huge grin on his face.

"You are my boyfriend" you've moved you hand away from your face and winked at him.

"Heeseung?"

"You got my name right this time" a few seconds past and he starts laughing at his own joke, you hit his chest in annoyance. "gosh your such a tease" you turn away from him but he finds it more funny, putting his arms around you.

He comes closer to your ear,

"y/n?"

you hum in response, dozing off.

"your mine right?" you nod,

he smiled to himself, kissing the back of your head, he thinks to himself...

'once mine, always mine' *cutely smirks*

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆TY FOR READING BABES (I love all of you)☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

(heeseung is so fine)

taglist☆☆: @heeoao @deobitifull @rayofsunshineeee @dilllima @daekkislatte @heelahoops @ke4s @mrandromeda @chubbypeach2111 @wonsbear @whatdoyouwanttocallmefor @green-agent @chiiiiiiiiis @mayamarylhs

If your name isn't underlined then I couldn't find it :(

[raysrays]

Jealous! Kyojuro Rengoku X Fem! Reader NSFW

CW: NSFW content, possessiveness/jealousy, Oral sex.

Minors Do Not Interact! 18+

Y/N perspective

I settled down under the tree, overlooking the training grounds while chugging water. It’s the hottest day of the year, and all the Hashira are taking advantage of it by training.

Just finished my hand-to-hand combat training with Tomioka. The man’s quiet, but he sure is fast. That last move had me completely pinned to the ground. I’m definitely going to be sore tomorrow.

Honestly, it was pretty embarrassing; it felt like everyone was watching. Tengen hyping up Tomioka from the sidelines definitely didn’t help the situation. I didn’t even get to see Kyojuro's reaction to my loss. I didn’t have the heart to look. As his Tsuguko, I’m a representative of him, and I feel like I probably embarrassed him too.

Just then, I feel someone sitting next to me. It’s Tomioka… I didn’t think he’d be the type to come over and brag about winning. This sucks.

“You didn’t do bad, you know,” he said in that monotone voice. He’s as stoic as ever.

Well, I definitely wasn’t expecting him to come over and comfort me.

“Uh, thanks. I just need to train a little more. I’ll get you next time!” I try to smile. If he’s not going to rub it in my face, I shouldn’t dwell on it.

I feel him looking at me, so I turn to face him. Is he smiling? Well, kinda? He’s not exactly frowning as usual.

“Yeah, until next time,” he puts his hand on my shoulder reassuringly and then stands up to leave.

“Oh, and one more thing-“ he began.

“Rengoku isn’t mad at you. You should probably go watch him go against Tengen.”

“I’ll watch from here where it’s shaded,” I reply.

He just nods and walks back to where the others are standing.

I watch as the two begin their sparring. Why does it seem more vicious than usual? Kyojuro looks like he’s really going all out this time. He looks very attractive right now.

Their sparring match goes on for another few intense minutes. Kyojuro is smiling; he must be fine, not mad at me at all.

I must have managed to catch his attention as I noticed him glance over at me, his smile dropping.

Oh, maybe not.

Damn it, I really didn’t want to listen to him lecture me about training more.

I finally make my way back down to the group, and we all talk amongst ourselves. I see a tall shadow hovering over me.

I turn around, locking eyes with Kyojuro.

He’s smiling, but I can tell this is just an “I’m not going to scold you now but I will later” type of smile.

I let out a sigh and make my way back to my quarters. I know he’s following me, but surely he will wait to talk after I’ve cleaned up. We both probably smell terrible.

As I’m about to shut the door to my room, a hand suddenly blocks it from closing. I look up, being met with a very stern-faced Kyojuro.

What’s his problem? Was me losing to Tomioka really that big of a deal?

He then pushes my door back open, walking in. “We need to talk, little flame,” his voice doesn’t sound like himself. This definitely isn’t the Kyo I was used to.

“I’m sorry,” I blurt out.

“I know I shouldn’t have lost to Tomioka, and I promise I’ll train harder so I don’t make you look bad next time.” I’m praying my apology is enough.

It was only a second later I feel his lips on mine. He’s kissing me? But this time it’s different. It feels rough, urgent. What’s going on?

I feel him push his tongue into my mouth, deepening the kiss.

I pull away, breathing heavily. Why is he doing this?

He leans in and whispers in my ear.

“Did you enjoy it? Being pinned down by him?” He sounds so angry.

“What? What are you talking about?” I feel my face turning bright red.

I then feel a small pinch on my ear. Was he biting me?

“Tomioka. Did you like him holding you down like that? Enough for him to find you after and touch you some more?”

Is he being serious? This is so out of character for him.

“Kyo, are you jealous?” I ask with a hint of tease in my voice.

He then pulls me back in to kiss me again. I feel him walking me backwards, pushing my back against the wall.

He’s running his hands all over me, squeezing my breast, kissing me more passionately.

After a few seconds, I feel his hands moving down. He’s touching me there? Now? It feels like this is happening so fast, but it just feels so good.

I start to moan against his lips, and I put my hand over his.

“Kyojuro, wait… I need to wash up first.”

He then gets on his knees, looking up at me more sweetly than earlier.

“I don’t care about that right now, sunflower. Right now, I just want to please you. In a way he cannot,” he says, undoing my belt.

I feel my legs start to shake; this is so much. All of this just because Tomioka had to reassure me I didn’t fight terribly?

He knows what he’s doing, kissing me down there so softly.

I throw my head back, feeling him run his tongue all over me. Kyojuro was definitely a skilled swordsman, but he was also a professional in making me feel good.

I can’t help but cover my mouth with my hand. It’s not like these walls are super thick. I use my free hand to grab a fistful of his beautiful flame-colored hair.

I arch my back against the wall. I’m really starting to feel it now.

I can’t stand his teasing. He’s doing this to punish me.

“Kyo, please…” I manage to breathe out.

He pulls back a little. “Please what, sunflower? What is it you want?” He says softly, his voice full of arousal.

“Please, just let me finish,” I whisper.

He grins up at me. “After what you did?”

He leans back into me, going even slower than before.

I hit my head against the back of the wall. This is absolute torture. I’ve never wanted to cum so bad.

I tighten my grip on his hair that I still had in my hand.

I feel like my heart is about to beat out of my chest and like my legs are about to give out.

Finally, I feel him start to pick up the pace, and I don’t think I can stand it any longer.

I grip both of his shoulders as tightly as I can.

And finally, I feel it. The release is better than I could have imagined. It felt like it went on forever, and it was what I needed.

I feel my back slide down the wall, causing me to be eye level with Kyojuro on the floor.

We are both out of breath, staring at each other.

Kyojuro then pulls me into his lap, kissing my head.

“So, little flame, did I make you feel good?” He sounds so innocent, as if he didn’t just completely overpower me a second ago.

I shake my head. “You really got that jealous over Tomioka? It was just some hand-to-hand training.” I laugh.

His face turns bright red. “Well, yes, I know… but I just don’t know how to explain it. Seeing you being held down by him really just struck a nerve with me, and then him coming up to you after the match. I just couldn’t control it.” He sounds so embarrassed.

I cup his face in my hands and kiss his cheek. “Kyojuro, I love you. I would never crave the attention of anyone but you.”

I brush his hair out of his face, leaning into his ear.

“Nobody can make me feel good like you do,” I whisper.

He smiles brightly and laughs, pulling me into a tight hug. “That’s wonderful news, my little flame! I love you!”

There he is. There’s my sweet Kyo.

“Maybe I should make you jealous more often,” I tease.

“I’d advise against it,” he replies, kissing me one more time.

“Shall we get cleaned up now?” He suggests.

I nod, and we both finally make our way off the floor.

Well, that’s not exactly how I thought my “lecture” would go, but I guess I’m not complaining.

[kpop---scenarios]

Whiplash (1)

Pairing: Felix x Reader x Hyunjin

Genre: Street Racing, Gang, Friends to lovers

Word Count: 3.2k

“Y/N against Han!” Chan yells, trying to gather everyone around. You stared at Han, trying to scare him as you impatiently waited for Chan to tell you guys to start. This was always a thing at these parties, you had been the undefeated beer chugging champion for months and still everytime, someone dared to go up against you in hopes of gaining the title. But it never worked, so far no one was able to beat you.

“Good luck.” you hear from beside you. You turn to look, seeing Hyunjin and Felix, both standing there with a smile on their faces, smiles that melt your fucking heart. Felix sends you a little wink as you turn to face Han, making your heart flutter.

You were so fucking in love with both of them.

You had known Hyunjin and Felix for years. The three of you had met by chance, at a party just like this and you still weren't sure what caused it but the three of you became pretty inseparable very quickly. And over those years the three of you had become the best of friends. Friends who told each other everything, even the hard things. The three of you had your ups and downs throughout the years but there was nothing that you wouldn't do for each other.

Over the years, you had only ever seen two sides of Hyunjin and Felix. The first side was the sweet caring side that brought you flowers and ice cream to cheer you up when you had broken up with your piece of shit boyfriend.

And the second side of them was the terrifyingly angry side. They had both beat the shit out of your ex boyfriend when they found out he was cheating on you. Even though you had been friends for a long time, somewhere along the way you had fallen for both of them. Not by choice of course. You never wanted this to happen but somehow, somewhere the platonic love you had for them turned romantic. Those feelings however, were shoved deep down inside of you, and were never allowed to see the light of day. They made it so fucking hard for you to keep those feelings in check. Whenever you were around one or both of them, they were constantly touching you, holding onto you. It was like they needed to be near you and still, you continuously told yourself that you could never go there with either of them. Those things between you needed to stay purely platonic and you would just have to be okay with that.

But you weren't okay with it. You never showed your romantic love for them when you were around both or any mutual friends. Even when you watched women flirt with each of them, and them flirting back. The desperation you felt to be the one that they touched like that, or talked too like that. The best you could do was dream about it. You weren't about to put yourself or them in that position, you didn't want what you already had to be ruined. If you confessed to either and one didn't feel the same or both, there's no coming back from that. The three of you would never be the same. You didn't want to lose your best friends.

“Ready.” chan yells. “Set…” He smiles. “And go!”

You begin chugging one out of 4 beers in front of you, then the second, and the third. By the time you got to the fourth one, Han was just starting his third.

You could see Hyunjin and Felix out of the corner of your eye smiling and rooting for you to win, instead of their other friend. As you finished your last beer, you threw your cup on the floor before lifting your hands above your head to celebrate while you relished in the sound of everyone clapping for you and cheering you on.

Han walked away looking defeated while you took a shot that you didn't need. You were already drunk, but it helped when Hyunjin had walked over to you, a smile on his face as he picked you up and spun you around.

"You're amazing." He laughs, setting you down on the floor. You could feel the blush spreading across your face as he stared at you. Felix came over, pulling you out of Hyunjin's embrace and into his own. “That's my girl.” Felix smiles, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, his eyes never leaving yours like the two of you were in a goddamn drama. You could feel your heart racing so hard while the liquor flowed through your body. your knees were weak. Out of nowhere, Han shoves in between you two, sticking his finger in your face.

"You." He hiccups. "I want a rematch." He finishes. You smile at the drunk man, already forgetting about the moments with Hyunjin and Felix.

"You wanna go again?” You laugh. “Are you sure you want to lose again?" You ask, heading back to the table. You watch as a drunk Chan and drunk Changbin try to fill more cups up with beer, laughing as they spill some all over the table.

"3, 2, 1." Everyone yells before you and Han have your rematch. You were already drunk, so you were moving a little slower than before but Han, he was a mess. He was trying not to gag as he finished his first beer, while you were already starting on your third. You knew you could take your time and sip it but you wanted to destroy him.

And you did.

"Don't take it too hard." You drunkenly slur, suddenly feeling dizzy. Your legs feel like they're about to give out on you as you tumble back. You brace yourself for the impact you knew was coming from the hard floor, but instead you were graced with the feeling of a hard chest and strong arms holding you up.

“Woah, there drunky.” You hear the extremely deep voice that makes your panties wet. Felix helps you up, standing steadily on your own two feet, his hands on your shoulders as he smiles at you. “Hyunjin.” He calls.

Oh god why?

“She's plastered.” Felix says, smiling at you again. Ugh you wanted to melt.

“Should one of us take you home?” Hyunjin asks.

“Yesssssss. You both take me home and to bed!” You giggle, stumbling towards the front door. Hyunjin and Felix walk after you, trying to help you not to bump into things on your way out of the house. Both men guide you towards Hyunjins car, where he gets into the driver's seat, while Felix helps you into the back seat. He was going to close the door until you pulled him back there with you. He lets out a laugh as he closes the door and you lay your head in his lap. Felix rests his hand on you as you quickly fall asleep. Hyunjin glares at Felix in the back with you as he drives off to your house.

You wake up the next morning with a throbbing head and your entire body being sore. You remembered doing the beer chugging challenge with Han, and then a shot but then your memory cuts out. You rub your eyes as you reach for your phone, and just as you thought messages from Hyunjin and Felix.

[From Hyunjin 3:08am] You might be a little sore in the morning. You tripped on a curb after getting out of the car and running once we got to your building. Felix and I tried to catch you before hand but fuck your quick.

[From Felix 3:10am] I don't care what Hyunjin says, I really did try to grab you before you walked into that door. I hope your head isn't too bad when you get up. Text me and I'll bring you food.

You read through the rest of them, and groan about what a pain in the ass you are when you're drunk. You glance at the time, it's still morning but fuck you could go for a burger right about now. You decided you were going to surprise the two with food, so you got up, took some advil and put on a cute summer dress, chugged a bunch of water before heading out.

You stood outside the house, kicking the door impatiently with food for 8 of you and it was getting heavy.

“I'm fucking coming.” You hear from inside. An angry looking Chan opens the door, until he sees you and then his expression softens.

“Oh shit, let me take that.” Chan says, quickly grabbing the food from your hands, and taking it inside. “Guys, Y/N brought food!” Chan yells. Suddenly seven men emerge from different rooms, coming into the kitchen, murmuring thank you's in between bites of food.

“I told you I'd bring you food.” Felix laughs as he takes a bite of his burger.

“Yeah, but I wanted to do something nice, since I'm assuming you and Hyunjin took care of me last night.” You sigh.

“That we did.” Hyunjin says, glancing at Felix before they both start snickering. Once you all were done eating you sat on the couch, Hyunjin right beside you while Felix sprawled out with his head in your lap. You had no fucking idea what movie was even playing on the screen right now. All your focus was on the fact that Felix had the need to reach up and touch your face constantly, while, you're assuming, accidentally brushing his arm against your nipple. Every single time. While Hyunjin sat there with his hand grasped tightly to your thigh, squeezing it every once in a while. At the end of the first movie Chan had gotten some kind of phone call, saying that the rest of them needed to leave to take care of something. So off went Chan, Seungmin, I.N, Lee Know, Han and Changbin, leaving the three of you alone.

You tried to ignore it, you tried to focus on the show but you were struggling and by the middle of the second movie you couldn't take it anymore.

“Move. Off.” You say, tapping Felix's head. He sits up, displeased that you were getting up. You quickly walk to the kitchen, trying to catch your breath as you squeeze your legs together, trying to sooth your throbbing clit. You lay your head and stomach onto the island in the kitchen, the coolness of the marble helping the heat you were currently feeling. You must have been too busy listening to the sound of your breathing with your eyes closed as you calmed yourself down, because you didn't hear the footsteps that came into the kitchen. You had no idea anyone was there until you felt a pair of hands slide onto your hips as someone stood behind you, rubbing their hands up and down your back. You opened your eyes and saw Hyunjin laying on the island beside you, his face so close to yours you could so easily kiss him at that moment.

“You left us so you could be in here?” Felix asks, gliding his hands through your hair.

“It's cold here.” You sigh. “I was hot in the living room.”

“We could have helped you cool off.” Hyunjin smiles. You squeeze your eyes shut, you were trying to calm yourself down not get even more worked up.

“I have to go.” You announce, standing up.

“Are you going to come to the club tonight?” Felix asks as you grab your purse. “Yup, I will be there. Gonna go get ready.” You say, avoiding more eye contact.

“Well we can come help you.” Hyunjin offers.

“Nope. See you later.” You yell, slamming the door behind you.

**

A few hours later you're sitting on your bed, just wearing a bra and panties as you let your makeup dry while you're on the phone with your best, and only close girlfriend.

“Seulgi.” You whine. “I can't do it. I'm going to end up jumping them both.”

“Don't do that. Remember what you told me. What if they don't reciprocate your feelings?” She says.

“Okay yeah, whatever. But what if they do?” You say. You knew you were being delusional, but sometimes the way they were with you made you wonder.

“I mean you could try.” She laughs.

“You're supposed to stop me from this shit. Are you sure you can't come tonight?” You sigh.

“I've got a date, and she's fucking hot. I cannot miss it.” Seulgi says.

You groan loudly. “Maybe I should just be a lesbian? Is it easier?”

“Well I've always been one so I dunno, but trust me babe, you'd get chewed up and spit out if you switched sides.” She laughs, loudly. You roll your eyes at her glancing at the time. It was almost 9:30pm and you needed to finish getting ready.

“Shit.” You groan. “Okay, I gotta go. I'll talk to you later. Have fun tonight!” You finish before hanging up the phone. As soon as you're off the phone, you put on some music and start dancing around your room as you fix your hair. You pull out a few potential outfits from your drawers, throwing them on the bed as you sing along to your playlist. As you're dancing as you get yourself into the little black dress you had decided to wear. You slip on your shoes, grabbing your purse and taking one last look at yourself in the mirror before you head out, knowing that Felix and Hyunjin are both outside waiting in the car for you. It seemed to be a bit of an unwritten rule that whenever you were going out with them, they always showed up to your apartment at 10pm on the dot. They did it once and you had never really spoken about It after that but they just continued to do so, not that you were complaining.

The three of you get to the club, and head for the bar. You each take a few shots before Hyunjin and Felix are both dragged out to the dance floor. You knew the girl who grabbed Hyunjin, she was his on and off again fuck buddy on occasion, but the one who took Felix was a stranger. You didn't like it. You didn't like that Felix was dancing with the girl and you sure didn't like that bitch with Hyunjin. She always muttered shit about you under her breath, glared at you and acted as if she was so much better than you. But you put up with it because if Hyunjin was happy then you tried to be happy for him even if it broke you a little each time.

“Hey beautiful.” You hear from behind you. “Can I buy you a drink?” You turn to look, seeing a very attractive man standing there. You glance at the two men dancing, and realize they were in their own worlds so why shouldn't you be?

“I'd love a shot.” You smile as you pat the seat next to you. He sat down and motioned to the bartender for four shots.

“Im simon.” He grins, holding out his hand.

“Y/N.” You reply, gently shaking his hand.

“So what's a girl like you doing over here all by yourself?” He asks. You roll your eyes before laughing.

“What a cliche line.” You giggle, taking your second shot. “My friends were dragged away to the dance floor.” You say motioning behind you. “My other friends are around here somewhere though.”

“Would you like to dance?” He asks.

You nod your head yes, he slides his second shot towards you, motioning for you to take it. You do without question and follow Simon to the dance floor. He stands behind you, his hands on your hips as you get used to the beat and rhythm of the song. It doesn't take you long to feel the music flowing through you as you grind your ass into his crotch. You look around the dance floor, seeing Hyunjin and Felix's eyes focused on you and what you were doing. Your drinks had kicked in full force, making you feel bolder than you should be and you took it up a notch. You danced even more provocatively on Simon, making sure that both men saw you and what you were doing. While you were dancing on him, Simon continued to hand you shot after shot, enjoying the more drunk you got, the sluttier you got until you couldn't take anymore. You'd been dancing for well over an hour, with Hyunjin and Felix continuously watching you while also trying to pay attention to the ones they were with. After 15 minutes, they went and sat in a booth, pretending to listen to what the girls were saying but their eyes were almost always on you. Simon turned you around, too quickly and you stumbled. He looks down at you laughing, wrapping his arm around your waist.

“Why don't I take you back to my place?” He asks, smiling at you.

“Okay!” You giggle. Your inhibition was way too low. Simon begins to guide you off the dance floor, heading towards the front doors. You're stumbling all over the place as you try to walk with him. “Come on.” He urges, trying to pull you forward with him.

“Hey.” You hear just as you step out into the fresh air. You feel two hands grab onto your arm, stopping Simon from moving any further.

“Can I help you?” He asks. You lift your head up to see your two favorite men standing there with stone cold faces as they glare at Simon.

“She's not leaving with you.” Hyunjin deadpans. He reaches over grabbing you from Simon's grasp and pulling you into him and Felix, who wraps his arm around your waist.

“Who do.. are you to say who I can go home with!? Huh!?” You ask, staring at both of them. “Maybe I.” You hiccup. “Maybe I need to get off too.. cause of you two!” You yell.

You hadn't noticed Simon take off while you were yelling.

“Because of us?” Felix smiles. “what'd we do?” he asks, cocking his head to the side.

“Don't you know what you do to me?” You sigh. “You make it so hard to be platonic.” You scoff. “The things I wanna do to the two of you are not platonic.” You giggle, as you start wandering off. Both men quickly grab a hand each, both smirking as they guide you towards the car to take you home to put you to bed. They couldn't wait for you to wake up tomorrow.

As they're heading towards your apartment, Hyunjin gets a call.

“Yeah Chan?” He answers. “Tonight? Let me ask him.”

“There's a race tonight. $150k for grand prize.” He tells Felix. They both glance back at your sleeping frame, before back at each other. Felix nods to Hyunjin. “Yeah we'll go. Just gonna drop Y/N off at the house instead and then we'll be there. Text me the address.” He finishes, hanging up the call.

Felix heads back to the group's house instead of yours, carrying you inside before tucking you into Felix's bed. They quietly close the door, heading out to the address Chan texted, hoping that you didn't hear any of that conversation. You didn't know what they did, and they wanted to keep it that way, it was the best way that they could protect what was most important to them.

You.

[sunflowersandsapphires]

A Gentle Touch

Installment 1 of The Catlike Tendencies of Matthew Murdock

pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!reader 

summary: Matt doesn't know how to ask for physical affection.

warnings: none that I can think of!

a/n: long story short this is inspired by my wife’s orange cat. He loves her but only tolerates me most of the time, unless I’m the only one home when he wants attention. However, he doesn’t really know how to cuddle with me since we don’t do it often so he just awkwardly lurks wherever I am until I invite him closer. It happened earlier and I thought it was hilariously Matt-coded so I wrote this. (It’s set in the Of Oak and Ivy verse because I love them, but you don’t need to read that story for this)

w/c: 2.3k

You were absolutely enthralled in the story Foggy was telling when the noise caught you off guard. A small puff of air, sounding almost like a voiceless sigh. Glancing toward Matt who was the closest to you, one look at his stony expression told you it had come from him. He was clearly irritated, despite his face being blank. You’d known him for long enough that you could tell when something was on his mind. 

Maybe he’d heard this story too many times? You leaned more heavily into his arm, which was parallel to yours. 

Turning your attention back to Foggy, you flinched with a laugh as he gestured wildly when concluding his story, spraying beer at you from his mostly full bottle. 

“Geez, Fog. Reaching your limit already?” Matt smirked, his icy exterior fading away as you giggled beside him. 

“He is, he’s all flushed. This is just like that party at the Beta house sophomore year.” You shook your head, looking at Karen with an exasperated expression. “Have they told you the possum story?” 

Smiling gleefully, Karen shook her head. “The possum story?” 

Both Matt and Foggy groaned, protesting and blushing furiously, but Karen was adamant. And who were you to not indulge her?

“In the fall of our second year at Columbia, Matt and Foggy got absolutely plastered on some disgusting concoction of cheap alcohol and Hawaiian Punch,” You began, rolling your eyes as Foggy gagged across from you. 

“God, even the thought of it—“ The blond mime-retched. 

“Yah the smell of Hawaiian Punch still makes me nauseous.” Matt shuddered next to you. 

Karen stifled a giggle as you continued to illustrate just how inebriated you’d found them when you’d come to pick them up. “I was studying and had sat the party out, but offered to drive them home when Fog called me screaming at someone to chug alcohol. I figured they’d both be in no shape to get home.”

“You were correct.” Foggy nodded. 

“I don’t remember anything from that night, but I assume I was the one chugging.” Matt grimaced, laughing sheepishly. 

“So I drove over to the house, somehow got ahold of Matt and managed to convince him to herd Foggy and himself into my car. When they get there, they’re holding this bundle, right? I figured it was dirty clothes or something. But as we were driving home the clothes start hissing.”

“Oh, NO!” Karen cackled, propping herself up on her elbows as she listened to the story. 

“Oh yes. Naturally, I ask Fog what he’s holding and he says ‘my dog’.” 

“We didn’t have a dog,” Matt clarified, looking incredibly guilty. 

“No you did not.” You squeezed his arm, hoping he could hear in your voice that you had no resentment over the incident. “Foggy unwraps the thing a bit and introduces it as ‘Spot’. But instead of a dog,”

“It’s a possum.” Karen finishes for you, nearly in stitches over her coworkers’ mortified faces. 

“An angry one at that. I have no idea where it came from or how they managed to catch it, but there it was.” You shook your head, still amazed at their ability to wrangle the creature while piss-drunk. 

“What happened to it?” Karen asked, and the men erupted. 

“That’s classified.” Foggy stated firmly, lips pressed together. 

“A story for another time,” Matt rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably. 

“Don’t tell me you killed it!” Karen gasped, whirling to look at the out of them sternly. 

“Of course not! No possums were harmed in the making of this story, just mildly inconvenienced.” You assured her. “They’re just clamming up because they can’t remember whose fault it was that it got loose in the science hall.”

Trailing off into a fit of laughter, Karen was quick to follow you as the two men started arguing, pointing fingers. Sitting back and enjoying the show, you shot Karen knowing glances as Matt and Foggy fought, no real heat behind their words. 

You’d had so much fun that night, reliving one of the funniest moments of your college years, that you’d completely forgotten about the aggravated sound. Until about one month after, when you were sitting next to Matt on a bench in the courthouse. 

The case he and Foggy had been working on was tedious and full of metaphorical landmines that threatened to ruin any shot your client had at escaping her abusive husband. The entire firm had been on edge, struggling to keep everything in order. Given your lack of steady employment at the moment, you’d been helping out wherever you could, and had been working this case from day one, right alongside Matt. Which is how you’d ended up beside him rather than Foggy. 

The blond had flown out of town a few days before to attend an extended family reunion, leaving the rest of you to man the fort, so to speak. Usually, that wouldn’t be an issue, but Matt had been increasingly temperamental leading up to the ex parte hearing. His normal reserved demeanor had rapidly been replaced by a moody, antagonistic version of him–driving poor Karen to her wit’s end. 

After Matt had incited a screaming match over a spilled cup of coffee, you’d told her to take her lunch early, giving her a couple hours where she didn’t need to walk on eggshells. The plan seemed to be working so far, Matt responding with less hostility to your persistent support rather than Karen’s eager suggestions for an aggressive approach. Something about this case had rubbed Matt the wrong way. His invisible hackles were standing on end, posture almost bristling as he sat beside you, twisting a white-knuckled fist around his cane. And, though you understood why Karen was pushing for another solution, you agreed with Matt that this needed to be handled quickly and quietly. 

Scowling at the floor, Matt’s joints rolled beneath the delicate skin of his hands. His jaw was clenched, shoulders curled inward, as if he expected the judge to request a fist fight to grant the protection order. Christ, that could not be comfortable.

Carefully, slow enough to not spook him when he was in this state, you slid the pads of your fingers over the back of his hand. Prying his firm grip off the handle of his cane, you cradled his massive, calloused hand in your lap. He visibly relaxed at the touch, twisting to face you as you traced gentle patterns over his skin, careful to avoid the line of freshly healed cuts on his knuckles. Your curiosity would have to wait for now. There was no way he was in the mood to explain those.

A breathy rumble sounded in his throat, akin to a sigh but less obvious. The same noise he’d made all those days ago at Josie’s–the quiet indication that something wasn’t right. 

Bottom lip jutting out in sympathy, you squeezed his fingers with your own. “It’ll be ok, Matty.” 

He swallowed roughly, hazel eyes darting around behind his red lenses. You could practically see the thoughts forming in his mind before he buried them, the stress forcing him back into bad habits. Sweeping your fingers over his wrist, you studied him, satisfaction thrumming in your chest when his breath hitched. “Hey, talk to me, trouble. What are you thinking?”

“It’s not going to go well.” His voice was pitched low, angry, but there was a brief undercurrent of fear within it. 

“We don’t know that.” You chastised lightly, knowing this pessimistic streak was a coping mechanism and not confirmation he’d become a nihilist. 

“I can feel it. Can’t you feel it? It’s like every officer is laughing at us. We’ve already lost.” Watching Matt, the perpetual optimist, crumble at the thought of things not going the way you’d planned nearly broke your heart. 

“Oh trouble, don’t say that.” Threading your fingers with his, you knocked your knees together. “It’ll be ok. Even if the judge doesn’t grant the order today, we won’t stop trying, right?”

“No but she needs legal protection now. Truthfully, she needs an armed guard.” Matt spoke bitterly.

“We can get her temporary protection.” You suggested.

“They’d never grant that for a simple DV case. Besides, those are his coworkers. Do you really trust them to keep her safe from him?” Matt scoffed, raising a brow at you. 

Resisting the urge to roll your eyes, you jabbed your pinky into the flesh of his palm. “I wasn’t suggesting we go to the police, Matthew. You and I both know how little good that would do.”

Deflating as he realized you weren’t being as naive as he suspected, Matt frowned. “Sorry.”

“It’s alright. Not everyone knows the flaws in the system.” You reassured him. “But I do. To some extent, at least.”

He hummed in agreement, but said nothing. 

“What’s really bothering you?” At your insistent question, Matt’s face flashed with rage, his spine straightening as he tried to pull out of your grasp, but you held fast. “Don’t you dare, trouble. Please, talk to me. It’s eating you away, I can’t sit here and let that happen.” 

Sighing harshly, Matt ran a hand over his face. “I just..this case feels different. I don’t know why. But if we can’t help her…”

“All we can do is try our best.” You reminded him. 

He let out a single humorless laugh. “I suppose that’s true.” 

When you let his hand drop, he made that pitiful, choked noise again. 

“What?” You asked, slightly worried. 

“Nothing. Just tired.” He lied, wrapping his hand back around the handle of his cane.

It was only once you were truly together that you realized what that specific sound was meant to signify. 

Since you’d officially started dating, or rather labeling whatever you two had as a relationship instead of dancing around each other, that stupid noise had cemented itself in your life. It seemed like Matt was making it every damn day and it was driving you up a wall. 

Not because Matt wasn’t entitled to his feelings or to expressing said feelings. But because your brain registered that the sound had a specific meaning, and you could not for the life of you translate it from a mere Matt-ism into a language you actually understood. Every little quirk and charm about Matt inherently made sense to you, they always had. Yet this little growling exhale seemed out of your reach. Not to mention, anytime you tried to ask him what was up, he shut down faster than a computer chip dunked in pool water.

Sitting on his couch as he typed on his laptop, he snarled out that sound, eyes darting towards you and away before you could blink. Brows furrowing, you peered at him over the top edge of your book. A muscle in his cheek twitched, a blaring omen that he was holding himself back from saying something. 

“You ok?” You asked, nose scrunching as Matt brushed off your concern. 

“Yep. Hungry.” He grumbled. 

One word answers. Great start. Really breaking down his walls there, champ. 

“Oh, gotcha. I’ll order something. Have a taste for anything in particular?” Setting your book across your thighs, you opened up a delivery app on your phone. 

“No.” 

“Okay...” You drawled, stifling an eye roll at his grouchiness. “How about that Lebanese place we liked?” 

Receiving nothing but a thumbs up in response, you submit an order before Matt reached another stage of hangriness. 

Once Matt had eaten half of his shawarma, he was more agreeable. Smiling and chuckling sweetly as you read him cheesy snippets of your romance novel. Crawling across the couch until you were seated beside him, you stretched over his lap to snatch a piece of pita bread for your plate of hummus. Matt blew out a breath, tickling your ear as he grunted. Now that you were close, you could hear the shrill, whimpering undertone. Hidden, nearly silent, as if the growl was to compensate for the whine, to conceal it. 

Craning your neck towards him, you planted your free hand on your hip. 

“Alright. Out with it.” 

“Out with what?” Matt gave his best ‘befuddled’ impression, but you saw past his feigned innocence. 

Snorting, you prodded his firm chest. As your finger connected with his solid pec, he whimpered again, this time almost moaning. Something clicked. 

“Matthew Michael Murdock,” You gasped. “You are not making that sound instead of asking to cuddle.” 

Blushing furiously, Matt dipped his head, ashamed–though he made no attempt to deny the allegation.

Laughing incredulously, you tossed your plate aside and settled into Matt’s lap, threading a hand into his hair. “You are a ridiculous man.”

Matt rumbled happily, leaning into the touch until his head landed against your chest. Clutching his face between your palms, you trailed soft touches over his cheeks, around his ears–scratching tenderly down his neck when he practically melted beneath your fingertips.

“You could’ve told me that’s what you wanted, all this time…” Shaking your head, you planted a kiss atop his thick hair. “Why suffer in silence?”

“Didn’t want to force you. It’s been different. Since..everything.” 

Snuggling in close, you maneuvered his chin with two fingers, kissing him deeply. His stubble brushed over your skin roughly, making you smile. “You can always always ask, trouble. No need to be a martyr with me.”

“Sorry,” Matt murmured against your lips, chasing your mouth with a mournful noise as you pulled away. 

“Don’t be sorry. Now come here.” Tugging him on top of you, you laughed brightly as he squirmed over you, finally relaxed when his face was tucked against your neck. “That’s it. Better?” 

“Much better.” He whispered, going limp under your touch as your fingers stroked up his back.

Taglist: @marytheweefrenchie @cheshirecat484 @siampie @xxdrixx @gracethyomen @ignore-mp3 @silas-aeiou @screechingphantommaker @spiderstyles04 @paradox-brody-chase @blue-devil-of-the-lord @pigeonmama @shouldbestudying41

[dansformations]

"Man of the future"

Alan was 20 years old gay guy that turned his passion for video games into a career as a streamer. Every night, he sat in front of his computer, illuminated by the lights of his setup, and connected to play with his thousands of followers enchanted by the fact of having a popular gay and handsome streamer. That night, however, something different happened.

While chatting with his audience and viewing the comments in the chat, he noticed a message that stood out among the others.

@ yourbroski: "Try this game, 'Man of the Future'," said a donation message with a link.

@ yourbroski: "Its my game, i create It"

- You Did!? No way - Alan replied

He clicked the link, opening the Game just for being nice, the title didnt sounded like something that the girly Alan would enjoy.

Within seconds after the click, Alan found himself downloading a game he had never heard of. The title, "Man of the Future," glowed on the screen.

The game was a complicated obstacle course and shooter that quickly engrossed Alan into the digital word.

- Hey, this is indeed fun

But the fun ended quickly. When he died in the game for the first time - Which was pretty fast -, a screen appeared with the saying, "C'mon Bro, you can do better" along with an strange music, almost hipnotazing music.

- Whoa, did you guys see that? - Alan said, leaning back in his chair. - This game is savage! 'C'mon Bro, you can do better'? Challenge accepted! - he answered.

However, the second attempt didn’t go any better. When Alan died again, the message changed to, "Don’t be a noob, Bro."

Alan face reddened with frustration. "Okay, Bro," he muttered under his breath.

- No way am I letting this game call me a noob. Let's do this! - He turned to the chat, determination blazing in his eyes. -You guys with me? This game’s going down, Bros!

Took a sip of His... beer? He didnt remenber being drinking beer, he didnt even remenber enjoying beer but he was so centred on beating that game that kinda ignored It.

- OOOOOUUURRRP - he belched - dang, sorry bros - he said a bit ashamed... Just a bit. He was too centred to being ashamed.

Meanwhile the coments were going crazy.

"Whats happening With all those 'Bro'? Thats off character"

"@ yourbroski: Nothing to be ashamed! Better out than inside my Bro!"

"Are we sure this Is Alan? Lol"

He keep playing moving his fingers as fast as he could, he was doing Better and when he almost reached the wining flag - a flag decorated only With White and black lines - he got killed by another player.

- Son of a bitch! - he yelled - that motherfucker killed me at the very last BRARRRRP - belched - moment!

"Dont be a pussy" The screen said this time, as knowing he was whining.

- No way this game just called me a "pussy"! - he said ofended - Im not, and in gonna show them all - he said while opening his legs in the chair in a more relaxed position, tooking a moment to scracht his balls in front everybody before starting the new round.

In that position everybody could apreciate some strong arms and legs that people didnt knew Alan had abd Alan didnt remenber to have worked on.

"Sexy" a guy comented.

He was gay, but for some reason reading that from a guy, maked him feel angry.

- Dont be a weirdo, dude - he said

He was gay, right..?

Then started playing again, not releasing every time his character died, a part of His persona did too.

Yelling, coursing, chugging beer and burping, acting with a cocky attitude more and more, every round, less nice, less gay, less him, until...

- BROS, I-OARRRRRP -He couldnt contain a burp - I DID IT!

His character was holding that black and White flag.

"Now youre a real alpha" the tv screen said With that strange music still.

"Now youre the Man of the future"

And with that, the remains of Alan were erased, he didnt remenber being a girly gay guy anymore, he always had been an alpha, a straight, gassy, jock that loved playing videogames and humillating the noobs and "queerdos" on the games.

Alan started doing a "celebration dance" that basically was doing hip moviments to show his bulge. Like he were fucking someone.

- This Is for you, @broski - Alan put His microphone close to his ass and ripped a big, loud, smelly fart on It - i beated you - he said proud. Between laughs he added - Nah, GG bro, youre talented, definetly gonna share It with the bros.

"Whats happening with Him?!' someone comented

"@ yourbroski: That flag send the fag away"

Alan didnt even read those coments, he was busy trying to fan away the fart with his hands.

That Night the strange transformartion of the gay gamer Alan was trending everywhere, but before His friend Group had read something, they receive link to a Game from Alan.

"Alan: Best game of the month broskis"

The group of friends made up of gay guys and nice straight guys thought Alan's writing was odd, but without knowing the situation they gave more atention to the link, opening it, ready to play a life-changing game, "The man of the future."

(This is just fetish writing)

[charliemwrites]

Chapter 1

Content: Violence, Murder, Horror Elements, Masturbation, Kidnapping, Threats, Mild Pet Play, the One (1) use of an ableist slur

It’s the middle of October when Soap convinces you to go camping.

Autumn has sunk its teeth deep into the countryside, bleeding green from the trees and leeching warmth from the days. Deep shadows and lengthening nights are cold enough to condense breaths into pillows of steam. All of the little critters are fattening up and bedding down for a frigid winter, prepared to be snowed into burrows and dens until spring pries away the ice.

Your hip already aches through the first half of your morning exercises. The ghosts of splintered shrapnel prick beneath tender scar tissue until the rust of sleep flakes away. Lying on hard, cold ground sounds like a one-way ticket to agony. You’d much rather be one of those fluffy bastards curling up to hibernate. You tell Soap this on Monday when he initially proposes the idea.

Besides, you add, trying not to chug your coffee, Soap’s in no condition to be fucking about in half-frozen woods either. Not with his finicky nerve pain.

On Wednesday, when you meet up again, he takes a different route. It’s been too long since you two last dipped into a civilian-appropriate but military-adjacent activity. Paintball, knife-throwing, base-jumping…

Your bed is starting to feel too soft and too big again. The city is loud but not the right way. The tedium of self-imposed routines is starting to grate on nerves still tuned for combat. If you don’t get out before the trap of winter snaps closed, you might go mad. You can see it in Soap’s eyes too, a manic glint behind glass blue.

But still. Camping feels too much like what you’ve just left – the shrinks probably wouldn’t approve. Not that you’d ask them.

On Friday, Soap offers a compromise. His grandfather (“Seanair”) left him an old hunting cabin out in the countryside. Nothing luxurious, but it’s got a fireplace, cots, kitchenette, bathroom. It’ll be more like holing up in a safehouse than roughing it for a mission. More importantly, it’ll be gentler on your battle-worn bodies.

That next Monday, you meet him at the café with supplies packed and an honest anticipation for a week off the grid.

*

“Yoohoo! Any murderers about?” Soap calls. “Any armed psychos? An angry raccoon, perhaps?”

You scowl, caught behind him in the doorway. “I thought you checked it out already?”

“Aye, but ye ne’er ken,” he reasons, shrugging. He shuffles in as you nudge him. “We’ve the luck o’ the devil, you an’ I.”

You snort as you start kicking off your shoes. “True enough, I s’pose.”

“Course, I like our odds against any weirdo wi’ a knife, don’ you?”

You shrug. “Maybe. Not so sure about a raccoon though. Think we’d be fucked.”

“Och, tha’s right. I remember your lectures about rabies.”

“Good.”

You snicker at his grimace, likely feeling the phantom sting of vaccines.

The cabin is cute, honestly. There are only three rooms – the living room/kitchenette, the bedroom, and the bathroom. The bathroom is small enough that you could stretch your arms across the width of it and touch both walls, but it’s got a working shower so you’ve no complaints. The bedroom has a dresser and a nightstand, plenty for you and Soap.

While you set to work putting the groceries away, Soap putters about opening windows and making up the beds. The two of you don’t immediately have much to talk about, considering how often you see each other and the long drive out. It’s alright, though, you’ve long grown comfortable in stretches of silence together.

Once settled in, you suggest a walk to explore the area. Part of it is genuine interest in appreciating nature before the sun sets early. But there’s also a large, paranoid part of you (sounding like your old captain) that demands you get your bearings. Just in case.

There’s a loch about a mile from the cabin, a beautiful sheet of dark glass big enough for decent fishing. You’re able to see the row of holiday homes on the other side but wouldn’t be able to see any people on their docks out there. You and Soap follow a deer trail for a way, exchanging stories of your respective childhoods.

No surprise that John MacTavish was a wild child with a rebellious streak that got him in trouble more often than not. He gets you laughing bright and easy before long, and for once it doesn’t feel like playacting as a Normal Functioning Person.

When the sun starts to skim the evergreens, you return to the cabin. You start up a pot of cheesy mac while Soap gets the fire going, pyromaniac that he is. Once it’s burning nicely, he starts closing up the windows. Not too soon either – the temperature is starting to dip and twinging at your hip, unhappy from sitting in the car so long.

The two of you hum over empty carbs and excess dairy by the fire, a glass of scotch for each of you. When you’ve had your fill, he washes the dishes, you pour another round, and the two of you settle together on the old sofa.

“Almost been a year,” Soap says after a while.

You sigh through your nose, stare into the dwindling pool of amber in your hand. “Three more weeks.”

“You miss it too.”

Against your will, your eyes slide sideways, to the hand he’s clenching and unclenching on his thigh. There’s a wicked line of scar tissue beneath the sleeve of his shirt where the surgeons salvaged what they could. Mostly successful too, apart from the damaged radial nerve that ruined his career.

“So much, Soap, fuck.”

You didn’t mean to say that. You’re supposed to be the healthy one here, encouraging this necessary and healthful change to your lives.

As if reading your mind, Soap hums, bumps his elbow into your ribs. “No shame in it.”

You shake your head. “I don’t even know what I miss.”

“Feeling useful, I reckon. Feeling… necessary,” he muses, subdued.

It’s insightful but too accurate. Too selfish. You rub your thumb over the lip of your glass.

“I hate that I can’t keep an eye on Price and Gaz,” you say. “Feels like I’m always waiting to hear the worst, ya know?”

“Yeah,” he whispers roughly. “I ken.”

*

The two of you end up falling asleep on the couch. Soap, sitting up with his sketchbook, and you folded into the corner against the arm, book pages fluttering between lax fingers. At some point, the cramped position aches enough to wake you. Your eyes flutter open, low fire throwing long, deep shadows across the wooden wall.

Something is watching from the window.

You jolt up, hand reaching for the gun you no longer carry on your thigh. The movement jostles Soap awake as well. It involuntarily draws your eye, just a fraction of a second. But the haunting shadow is gone by the time you turn back.

That’s not enough for you. You roll to your feet, hiss as your knee threatens to give. But you manage to get your balance and snatch your combat knife from your boot as you storm towards the door.

“Kit? Kit! The fuck is going on?!” Soap calls.

“Saw something!” you reply.

There’s a flashlight hanging by a hook next to the door. You grab it as you burst out into the chilly air, tensed for a fight. A quick sweep of the front yard and immediate tree line reveals nothing. Steps soft and careful, you approach the side of the house, expertly gripping your knife.

“On your six,” Soap breathes behind you.

“Copy.”

You round the corner, eyes scanning the trees, the brush. There’s no movement, no suspiciously rustling branches. You tilt your head, listening for anything past the normal sounds of the night. But there isn’t even an unusual silence in the dark world around you.

“Just a dream, then,” you sigh.

It wouldn’t be the first time. Unusual, though. Your nightmare-induced hallucinations usually conjure guns in your face or teammates bleeding out on the floor. Not strange figures at the windows. Still, you can hear the explanation of your shrink trying to soothe you. Middle of the night after drinking, in a new and atmospheric environment. Plus, there’s been all that fuss on the news about a serial killer; nowhere near you and Soap, mind, but still. Subconscious or some shite.

“Let’s do a sweep anyway,” Soap says.

Your chest warms. “Alright.”

Naturally, there’s nothing. Soap only gives you a one-armed hug as you return to the cabin. One final check of the interior – since you did leave the door open when you rushed out – and then the two of you turn in for bed.

*

The next day starts lazy and slow. A strange reprieve from your body’s military-trained urge to wake early. It’s nice, though, to snuggle beneath the covers with Soap’s soft snores only a few meters away. You play pre-downloaded games on your phone while you wait for him to wake, enjoying the lie in.

Breakfast is enjoyed on the little porch out front; you bundled up in a woolen throw while you sip coffee. It’s shaping up to be an unusually sunny day, and you agree to a longer hike around the loch before lunch. When you return, you settle on the porch again to read while Soap chops wood.

Which, well.

You don’t mind a bit of entertainment between pages… or paragraphs… or…

Soap hasn’t neglected his physique at all since the discharge. All corded muscles, broad shoulders, and tapered waist. Watching the bunch and release of his arms has always been a guilty pleasure of yours, and so blessedly indulged during training sessions in the 141.

You try not to sigh and drool over it (him) like a repressed Victorian.

“Ach, fer fucks…”

You snap to attention, book set aside. “Is your arm acting up?”

He’s set the hatchet down, grabbing at his elbow with a pinched expression.

“Aye,” he grumbles.

You trot to his side, pleased that he still instantly submits to your care. He lets you manipulate his arm, prod along the nerve pathways and bunched muscles that are spasming in pain. His groan has no business being that low or rough or close to your ear. But you ignore it like you always have, focus on getting him right. Barely even register when he sets his jaw on top of your head.

A few minutes pass in silence while you try to massage away the worst of the flare up. When he finally sighs, slumping into you a little, you gently squeeze his forearm.

“Bampot,” you huff.

“Aye, I ken,” he mumbles.  “’S why I have you.”

You click your tongue. “Someone’s gotta keep you alive. Next time let me help.”

“Not on yer life.”

You pinch his side, grinning wickedly when he yelps and jerks away. Little shit. Your favorite little shit, damn him.

He allows you to help carry the firewood to the rack next to the tiny shed. It’s round back of the cabin, covered by an old blue tarp. Soap is in the lead and sees it first.

“Oh, well isn’t that pure dead brilliant,” he huffs.

“Hm?”

You peak around him and blink at the rust-colored splatters decorating the side of the shed. There’s a dark patch in the scraggly grass as well and drag marks into the trees. Clearly, some prey fell victim to the circle of life here. Recently, too, from the color of the blood.

“What do you think it was?” you ask. “There aren’t wolves here.”

“Nah, but coulda been a fox.”

You scrunch up your nose. “This close to us? Usually foxes steer clear of humans.”

“Feral dog, then, maybe.”

Maybe.

It’s a lot of blood for anything a dog or fox would risk taking down, though. Even a feral one.

“C’mon, let’s get inside. Need a coupla pills ‘fore mah arm starts taking the piss again.”

You help him stack the firewood and then follow him back to the cabin. And if you linger on the blood, your random dream, and the lingering sensation of eyes on you… well, nothing new for you.

*

It pours all of the next day. Soap says it’s good timing, that he won’t have to wash the shed himself. Both of your injuries are acting up, though, and you spend the day trying to find different positions to appease the ache in your hip. At one point, he has to help you to the shower, your leg feeling too weak to support your weight. It’s frustrating, but you’ve had nearly a year to learn to cope.

Soap lifts your spirits, though, like always. Convinces you to play Scrabble and keeps insisting that he’s just using Scottish words. It ends the way it usually does – you and him wrestling like children, trying to trap the other to determine the winner. You only just manage to get a hold of him, though he puts up a good fight. He eventually admits that “daylich” isn’t actually a word and he didn’t deserve the triple word score.

Then he breaks out a pack of biscuits as a peace offering and all is forgiven. The two of you nibble on those while watching a movie on your laptop and then shuffle off to bed.

Long after Soap has fallen asleep, you’re awake. The memory of his body against yours always leaves you feeling branded. Like the heat of him burns right through your clothes. It’s been… probably too long since you last got off. Way too long since someone else got you off. And yeah, you had a couple of shameful secret wanks around teammates back in the day, but things are different now. You’re not high on adrenaline in the military anymore. No excuse for shoving a hand down your pants.

Still, your thoughts spiral as you finally start to doze. Rough hands on your hips, your thighs, your throat. Gentle but teasing at the true strength they possess. A hot tongue along your cheek, treating you like something to savor… or to devour. A shadow looming over you, dwarfing you. Phantom sensations that you crave as much as you shy away, wanting it but knowing you shouldn’t.

The throbbing between your thighs rouses you. Sleep-addled, you give in. You’d be embarrassed of how wet you are if anyone else were to know. And of the soft, needy noise you make when your brush your fingertips between your thighs. But Soap is still snoring steadily, and the pounding of the ongoing rain makes you brave.

You stroke slowly and gently over the bundle of nerves at first, mimicking those dreamt touches. It’s almost as maddening even when it’s your own hand. Sleep is half-dragging at you, though, and you speed up, drawing tight little circles at the top, teasing lower to stoke the heat burning in your gut. Your breathing picks up, little breaths past an open mouth.

It’s really not going to take much. Not with how long it’s been, how much you want it, vague thoughts of your darkest fantasies flickering through your hazy mind. You tilt your hips down, get the pressure of your heel against your empty, aching hole. You rock a couple times, high-pitched noises caught at the top of your throat.

You come imagining a big hand around your neck choking off those sounds. Have to slap your free hand over your mouth as you shake and writhe through it. Drag your nails up your bare thigh just to balance out the unbearable pleasure. And then you go limp against the pillows, panting and shuddering through aftershocks.

When you extract your hand from beneath the blankets, you blink at the wetness coating your fingertips for a moment. If someone asked, the excuse you’d give is not touching anything with your wet hand. But truthfully, you’re just indulging in impulsive hedonism as you suck your own fingers.

“Fuck,” you whisper to the shadows.

Then you climb out of bed for a proper cleanup, ready to finally fall asleep and definitely not think about how much quicker you came knowing that Soap was right there the entire time.

*

It’s raining on and off the next day. You and Soap take a little walk during one of the dry patches, though it’s cut short with how sore your hip still is. Soap collects more firewood from the shed, keeps the flames well fed while you putter about. Nap for an hour, start rereading one of your favorite books, watch a scary movie with him, make American flapjacks just for the sake of it.

Even though you should be feeling stir crazy, Soap has always made for good company. The day passes pleasantly into an early night, the sun standing little chance against the thick cloud cover.

You and Soap are settling in with scotch when frantic knocking interrupts the peaceful quiet.

“Help!” a ragged voice screams. “Someone please help me!”

You hardly exchange glances before the two of you are up. Soap goes for the door, gun in hand. You scramble for the ever-present medical kit that earned your call-sign, left out on the counter.

Soap yanks the door open; a man tumbles in. Middle aged, lanky build, bleeding from a long cut on his forehead. His ankle is twisted at a damning angle. You scan him for obvious weapons, but his t-shirt and muddy boxers reveal nothing but bruising and scraped skin. His hands are empty as they scrabble at the floor, trying to drag himself inside. Soap slams the door closed and locks it.

“Please!” the man cries again. “You have to help me!”

You drop to your knees beside him, already popping your kit open.

“We’re going to help you, sir,” you say evenly, “but you need to calm down.”

“You don’t understand,” the man gasps as you help him sit up. “H-He… he’s out there.”

“Who?” Soap asks, grip shifting on the gun.

“S-some psycho,” the man answers. You work easily past his shaking, getting a look at his swelling ankle. Definitely broken… with force. “In a mask.”

You blink, shoot Soap a look. Have the two of you fallen into some weird horror movie by accident?

“What did he do?” Soap asks.

“H-he attacked us with a big bloody knife.”

“Who’s ‘us’?” you ask. “Who else was with you?”

“The lads – my friends – my brother. Oh, god…” He pales further. You brace him, eyeing the packaged shock blanket peeking from your kit. “Danny is dead. There was so much blood.”

“How many?” Soap asks, voice hard. “How many of you are still alive?”

“I-I don’t know. I barely got-got away. Oh, god—”

He dissolves into tears and whimpers. You rip open the blanket and drape it around the man, then scoot down to his ruined ankle. Over his head, you frown at Soap. Something is missing here. This man was with at least three other people, but one man attacked them? There’s something to be said for shock and surprise and fear, but still…

“Soap?”

“Gonnae see if I can find survivors,” he says. “I’ll send ‘em your way if I find any. You stay here, take care of this ‘un.”

“That’s stupid,” you argue. “You can’t go by yourself!”

“No different than recon, aye? Not gonnae engage, but we cannae leave anyone bleedin’ out there.”

Your mouth twists. No, no you can’t leave civilians potentially wounded with a killer out for blood. Discharged or not (war criminals or not… and you both are, technically) you’re both too dutybound for that.

“RV here in ten and I’ll have the car ready for exfil.”

“Affirmative.”

He crosses to you, knocks your foreheads together – a pre-mission gesture you never thought you’d receive again. You close your eyes for a second, squeeze the back of his neck. Then send him off with a firm nod.

You lock the door after him, then return to the man.

“Are you two military or something?” he asks.

“We were,” you answer, “medical discharge.”

“Oh brilliant! You’re telling me that my only hope is a couple cripples?!”

You level him a flat, unimpressed look. “I’m a medic with more kills than you’ve got chest hairs, understand? Shut up and brace. I need to wrap your ankle.”

He whimpers and whines and curses while you set and compress it. Nothing you haven’t heard before, vehement as it may be. Ungrateful, though, you think vaguely. Save a guy’s life and he’s calling you all sorts of derogatory names while you try to salvage his ability to walk.

“You done?” you ask, interrupting his latest stream of expletives. “I need to hear if someone is coming.”

That only shuts him up for a moment before he’s piping up again. “Do you have a weapon?”

You tug your pant leg up to show the knife strapped to your calf.

“Do you even know how to use that?!”

“Look, I know this is a lot for you, so maybe you should stop talking for a while.”

His face twists, brain turning to anger as he tries to cope with his own fear and new trauma. You don’t pay him any heed, wiping off his head and closing the still-weeping cut with butterflies. All you can hear over his wheezing is the rain outside. No footsteps or screams or, most importantly, gunshots.

With the worst two of the man’s wounds seen to, you take stock. You’re not dressed for any sort of confrontation in lounge pants and socks.

“Here. Start treating your legs and arms,” you say, pressing gauze and wound wash into the man’s hands.

“Where are you going?!” he protests.

“Need to prep to leave,” you explain. “Shout if you hear anything.”

He doesn’t look thrilled, but you’re already up and hurrying to the bedroom. You climb into a thick pair of cargos – relieved that your fashion sense hasn’t improved since the army – and a thermal shirt. Your pistol is waiting in the side pocket of your duffel, loaded and holstered. The weight of it is comforting against your thigh; you’ve missed it.

You grab the bags and carry them back to the door, check your watch. It’s only been four minutes. If Soap isn’t back in another six, you’re going out to get him yourself, injured civilian be damned. Everything you’ve gone through together; you’re not going to lose your best friend to some overdramatic wanker with a knife.

“What are you doing now?!” the man asks.

You give him another once over. He’s done a decent job prioritizing the worst scrapes and cuts, they look clean enough. Most importantly, he seems less faint than when you left. Giving him something to focus on must have helped.

“Checking the car. We’re leaving as soon as Soap gets back,” you answer.

“A-at least give me something to protect myself with!”

You try not to sigh in annoyance. What good would he even be, unable to walk and shaky on adrenaline? Still, you take pity and tug the knife from your boot, offer it to him handle first.

“Not the gun?” he complains.

“No.”

You jog out to the car, gun in one hand and duffels in the other. It’s raining again, getting harder by the moment. There’s a steady, sharp pain radiating throughout your leg, threatening to knock it out from under you. You grit your teeth as you toss the bags in the backseat and move to the ignition.

And the car doesn’t start.

“Shit.”

You don’t waste time trying it again. It should be in perfect condition; it must have been tampered with.

When you approach the house again, you hear shouting from inside. You pick up the pace, nearly skid across the wooden floor when you get there. The man is huddling up by the couch, white knuckling the knife.

“I-I heard something!”

“Where?” you demand, scanning the immediate area. Thank fuck that Soap’s seanair believed in minimalism.

“In the back.”

You frown. “The only way in is through windows back there, and those are locked.”

Right?

“I know what I heard!”

“Stay here, then.”

You click the safety off and pad the short hallway to the bedroom. Don’t bother announcing yourself, or any idiotic “who’s there”. You kick the unlatched door open and sweep through the room just like you would for a raid. The tiny lamp on the nightstand is still on, illuminating the sparse space.

You check under the first bed, then sidestep and tilt your head to check the other. Nothing.

“There isn’t—”

The window is open. The window is fucking open. How?!

You spin on your heel, just in time to see a hauntingly familiar mask bent over the gurgling body of the man. There’s no hesitation as you raise the gun and fire twice, but the killer has already rolled out of the way. Well fuck that.

You rush from the bedroom, fire another two into the couch as you round the corner. He’s a fast fucker, waiting by the wall adjacent to the hall as you exit. And he’s fucking big. Slams into your side – your bad side – like a tank. It fucks your balance, and you go down with a snarled curse, winded as all his weight lands on your much smaller frame.

On training and instinct, you slam your elbow back. There’s a crunch, a grunt of pain. But damn him, he doesn’t let up. A big hand finds yours on the gun. You yelp as he squeezes hard enough to feel the bones bend. The gun fires – bang, bang, bang. His head is right by yours, the hard edge of his mask pressing into your temple, panting in your ear.

You lash out with your other arm, though your aim is off. Instead of hitting his throat, you get his jaw instead. You plant your boot on the floor and push, trying to get out from under him. Instead, he rolls with your back against his chest. The gun clatters as he snakes a thick arm around your throat. You grab at his forearm, but you know you have no hope of matching him in strength.

You scrabble for the knife in your boot, but it’s gone.

Fuck, you gave it to—

The cabin ceiling is getting spotty.

Your fingers brush the killer’s leg, find a familiar shape tucked at the side of his boot. You snatch up the knife and drive it into his calf. He growls, but the arm on your throat blessedly disappears. You suck air, blinking past dark edges. Twist onto your front and blindly fumble for your gun.

Manage two shots right to his chest. He falls limp. You wait a beat, two. He doesn’t move again.

You click the safety on and holster the gun. And then, out of morbid curiosity, crawl closer to the body.

“Holy hell,” you breathe as you get a good look at the mask.

He’s wearing a skull over a black balaclava. Not just a prop either you realize when you tap at it. It’s real. Human. Thin cracks spiderweb along the front orbital bone, the corner of the eye socket – from where you elbowed him, you think. Beyond them, his eyes are closed and still, the skin painted black.

“Big scary fucker,” you murmur. And if you’re a bit admiring… well, it between you and a dead body. A couple dead bodies. Can’t forget about the other guy. “That was almost fun.”

“Kit!”

You jolt, barely able to hear Soap’s voice over the pounding rain, but relieved to hear it. A hiss escapes between your teeth as you get to your feet, hip protesting. You have to grab at the couch to catch your balance. Then brace yourself and walk carefully towards the door.

Your fingers are just centimeters from the doorknob when an arm wraps around your neck again. You flail, try to kick off the door, but it hardly even makes him stumble. Then there’s a sharp pinch in your arm, sibilant shushing by your ear, and the world goes dark.

*

The world comes to you in bits and pieces.

Something soft under you. A slight ache in your hip. Fabric around your bare legs. Voices? You think you recognize the rumble of Soap’s brogue, but not whoever he’s speaking to.

Soft golden light creeps past your fluttering eyelashes. Soap is sitting across the room on… a big floor cushion? You blink a couple times, adjusting your slightly blurred vision. But yep, that’s him, sitting on a gigantic pillow. And… is that his throat mic?

“Mm… John?” you call, rubbing at your eyes.

“Aye, Kit. Nice ‘n slow now. We’re alright.”

You hum and push yourself up, limbs heavy. Once you’re sitting, Soap speaks again. Gentle and calm.

“You remember what happened?”

You pause, frown. It comes to you in a slow trickle. The trip, the forest, the cabin… and then it floods back. The injured man at the door, the killer, the struggle. The ambush as you were going to meet Soap at the door.

“Fuck,” you whisper.

“Aye.”

You give him another once over. That’s not a throat mic; it’s a collar. A thick black leather thing, complete with a silver chain that trails off somewhere behind him. You stare for a second, bewildered.

“Don’t be jealous. You match.”

Your head whips around to the hulking figure in a doorway to your right. He’s just as imposing as you remember, tall and fucking built, dressed in all black and mask still on. The soft lighting casts spooky shadows across the eye sockets.

The words process a moment later and your hand darts up to your neck. Sure enough, there’s a wide leather band around your neck. You’ll give it this, though – you didn’t even notice it until he said something. Not too tight, comfortable even. Clearly made with long-term wear against skin in mind. There’s a chain attached to yours too and you follow it to an anchor in the wall.

“If it’s any consolation, ye look right bonnie,” Soap calls.

You snort. “’Course I do.”

The killer shrugs off the wall. You watch as he saunters closer in long, heavy strides. No point in scrambling away or trying to run – you’d have a limited radius of escape if he didn’t grab you first. Besides, you’re not about to cower to some spooky bastard with a couple dirty tricks up his sleeve.

He crouches down well within your reach, clearly not concerned about you lashing out. You tilt your head in defiance, meeting his eyes for a moment before he flicks his gaze down. He reaches out, gloved fingers catching your chin. Not hard, but firm enough that there’s no arguing when he tilts your chin up.

Fabric brushes the sensitive skin of your neck, above and below the collar.

“Pretty kitty,” he purrs. “Glad I didn’t bruise this lovely neck.”

Two fingers press against one side a little harder, edging beneath the leather. You recognize the gesture as you swallow. He’s checking your pulse. You’re proud that it’s still steady and unhurried.

“Not scared?” He doesn’t say it like it’s a question.

You arch your eyebrows. “Should I be?”

His eyes flicker. “Not if you behave.”

You run your tongue over your teeth, resisting a sneer. Past his shoulder, Soap is watching with a smirk. Unharmed, you note again. He’s fine. You’re fine, despite slight soreness from the brief struggle. If there was something to be concerned about (apart from the obvious) he would have let you know right off the bat. So, you take a calculated risk.

“Yeah? And what do you consider behaving?” you ask.

The corners of the killer’s eyes crinkle. You knew enough masked men back in the military to recognize a hidden smile. He’s amused by your snarky question. Another good sign.

“Good pets obey their masters.”

You blink, breath leaving you in a soft rush. It… makes sense. Just not the answer you expected. Stupid, maybe, given the collars, leashes, and dog beds. You’ll have to blame the lingering drugs.

“There are so many shelters, you’ve got to be kidding me,” you blurt, bewildered.

The man snorts, hooks a finger under your collar and gives an almost playful tug. An entirely instinctive part of you catches its breath. You’re glad he’s not measuring your pulse anymore.

“Those can’t talk back,” he answers simply, shrugging.

Soap barks a laugh. “Well, you’ll get what you asked for with us then.”

You grin crookedly, showing all your teeth. “And then some,” you agree, reaching up to tug the hand from your collar.

He jerks harder this time, unbalancing you towards him. You catch yourself on both hands, feel a blaze of heat across your nose and glare up at him through your lashes.

“No touching, kitten,” he says. “You’ll have to earn that.”

You try not to roll your eyes, not quite willing to push your luck too far yet. But it’s a near thing.

“Sure, let me get right on that,” you scoff dryly anyway.

He clicks his tongue, but no further retribution comes save for one last warning tug. Then he’s standing, towering over you again.

“I need a shower. You two settle in.”

And he just walks off. Like he didn’t just take two former SAS operatives as human pets. You wait until you hear distant water before turning to Soap.

“What happened?”

“Ambushed me,” he grumbles, sitting back against the wall. “Snuck up as I was trying to get you untied. Bastard is trained.”

Soap’s pouting, even though there’s an entire police case of victims who weren’t as lucky as him.

“Trained like us, you mean?”

“Aye.” Soap pauses, looking at the floor pensively, brows furrowing. “Means he had every reason and way to hurt us.”

You nod. “He had me in a hold and his knife hand free. Could have done anything with it. Let me stab him instead.”

Soap hums. “And, well, there’s a basement. Could have brought us there too, I reckon.”

He glances at the doorway the killer was lingering in when you woke. You get what he’s saying – or not saying, as it were. The two of you are hale and whole only because the killer decided to make it so. Because, as all evidence seems to suggest, he wants pets.

“You figure he means it? About… us?” you wonder.

Soap shrugs. “He’s no reason ta lie.”

That’s what you’re worried about.

“News says he’s a sadist,” you point out. “His idea of a pet might be...”

“Aye, but then why do all this?” He gestures to the big soft beds, which you know must have been a bit expensive for their size and comfortability, and the well-made leather collars. You’ve even got a blanket at your feet for the cool air. “Nae, I think even sadists miss a bit ‘o companionship now n’ then.”

You hum. Makes sense, in the part of you that’s seen the worst humanity has to offer and risen up to greet it. You’ve seen plenty of shit, plenty of people, and the things they’re capable of. But even “monsters” go home to family, to hobbies, to entirely wholesome things that they enjoy just because.

That’s the hard part about war. Seeing the most depraved and evil examples of humanity and reconciling that they have qualities one can recognize in themselves.

“The plan, then?”

“Say we go along with it for now,” Soap says, shrugging. “Not like we could get free as we are anyway.”

You hum in agreement. The chain is clipped to the wall anchor by a thick padlock, and feeling at the collar earlier, you know it’s the same on the other side. The collar itself is too high-quality to come apart without something sharp. So you’re stuck. Even if you did will a lockpick into existence, you’ve no intel on the rest of the house or even where you’d go from the house.

“But listen, Kit, I’m no’ gonnae let anything happen to you. If this gets violent, I’ll tear the walls apart with my hands if I hafta.”

You smile, wish suddenly and fiercely that you could hug him. He looks like he could use it; god knows you could.

“I know, John,” you soothe. “I will too.”

He nods, jaw twitching, then sighs and sits back again. The two of you sit in silence for a few moments, digesting the plan. You take an actual look at the room you’re in – a den, it seems like. A fireplace in one corner, a decent sized couch to your left. Beyond it, you can see a clean and modern kitchen. There’s a coffee table, end tables, lamps, a goddamn rug. It’s downright cozy; like something out of a magazine.

“Nice voice, though, aye?” Soap chirps suddenly, snapping your gaze back to him.

“Soap.”

“Och, don’t ‘Soap’ me,” he grumbles. “You look me in the eye and tell me tha’s no’ a voice made fer sex.”

And damn him, you can’t.

“Can’t say I was thinking about his voice when he was waving a big knife at me.”

“He can wave his big knife at—”

“I’m gonna kill you myself—” You snarl, balling up your blanket and chucking at his stupid, wiggling eyebrows.

“Oi, you two,” aforementioned sexy voice chastises from the hallway.

You wrinkle your nose as Soap grins at you, a shadow in the corner of your vision as the killer comes into the room again. He brings a cloud of clean water and bergamot. He smells good.

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me,” you hiss, dismayed.

“Problem?” the killer asks.

He’s got the mask on again (or still? You hope he doesn’t shower with it on, that’s unsanitary) but you can hear him arching an eyebrow. Stubbornly, you turn away to glare at Soap some more. It’s obvious he realizes what you’re referring to from the way he smothers a snicker, though.

Shithead.

You don’t get away with it for long before a hand is pulling your jaw up. Rough only because you resist for the briefest fraction. Once he’s got your face where he wants it, though, your captor’s grip isn’t painfully tight.

“When I ask you a question, I expect an answer, kitten. Understood?”

Your hand twitches to grab at the hold but remember what he said about touching without permission. Stubborn as you may be, you’re not actively trying to incite violence against you or Soap. The plan is to go along with… whatever this is. So you swallow a bit of your pride.

“Understood.”

He hums like that’s not quite the answer he wanted, but it’s acceptable for now.

“Now, is there a problem?” he asks again.

“Apart from the kidnapping?” you snip. “Everything is right as rain.”

He snorts, smooths his thumb over your chin, slow and dangerous. You go still, refuse to falter but careful not to provoke further.

“You’re going to be trouble, aren’t you?” he muses almost to himself.

“Must have expected it,” you reason honestly, “know you watched us for a few days.”

He tilts his head, eyes eerily unblinking within the unholy shadows of the skull. “Longer’n that, pretty thing.”

You open your mouth but don’t know what to say. Longer than the days at the cabin? How long? And how did you and Soap not notice?

Your spiraling thoughts are interrupted by fabric gliding over your bottom lip. His thumb threatening to slip past. You snap your jaw closed, nearly catch the tip of his finger in your teeth. He chuckles and finally releases you, making for the nearby couch.

He settles in with sigh and flicks on the TV. There on the screen is a flashing headline:

Another Ghost Victim Found.

Next

Masterlist

[danurso]

NWN Challenge

*At a nice bar in Atlas*

Ruby: You’re still dealing with the fallout of that mess?

Blake: Of course. As the head of the white fang I can't just clean up a mess and ignore what caused it and who was affected by it…..*sigh* The last thing I want is people thinking we’re slipping back into what we used to be years back.

Yang: Good thing your pops is really good at de-escalating, well that and Weiss’ PR team.

Blake: Yeah. Where is her by the way? I wanted to thank her personally for all the help.

Ruby: She said she was coming, something came up during work.

Yang: Or someone. If Jaune went to visit she might be an hour or so late.

Blake: That. . . . . . probably isn't the case.

Yang: Why?

Blake: *nods* Because she doesn't look like she just had a good time.

The trio then turned to see a familiar heiress coming in, looking like she was about to murder someone.

Weiss: *sits down on the table*

Bartender: What will it be mi-

Weiss: Vodka. Pure. And make it a triple.

Yang: Yeesh. Someone got up on the wrong side of the bed today.

Ruby: What happened?

Blake: Who did you kill?

Weiss: He's not dead, the doctors said just broke a few bones.

R_BY: . . . . . . . .

Weiss: . . . .what?

Blake: . . . . .i was joking.

Weiss: Oh. . . .right. . . . .

Ruby: Wait, wait, you tried to kill someone!?

Weiss: I didn't! I just exaggerated a bit while dealing with a jerk.

Yang: What happened?

Weiss: . . . . .*sigh* I was venting to Winter about some private things about Jaune, as soon as she left an associate came in, he must've heard something about what we're talking, because as soon as we were done talking business he tried asking me out.

Yang: Doesn't everyone at the company know you just married?

Weiss: They do and he knew about it. But he insisted saying we could do something “fun” and that he could “Give me what i needed” since my husband wasn't doing so.

Ruby: Oh gods. . . . . .

Yang: Hah!

Blake: Like, I understand why that made you angry, but did you have to send the guy to the hospital?

Weiss: Not really, but i’ve been having a really stressful week and even after i said no multiple times, he kept pushing, and the moment he got too close i catapulted him out of the room with a glyph, though because of everything i miscalculated and sent him through a wall instead of the door.

Yang: *laughs* Please send me the video whenever you can! I wanna see that.

Ruby: Well, jerk aside, is everything okay? You sound like there's been stress even before that.

Bartender: Here miss. *Puts down her drink*

Weiss: Thanks.

Blake: Is everything okay at home? You said you were venting about Jaune, is everything okay between you two?

Weiss: No! The last three weeks been awful! HE has been awful!

Blake: Wait what?

Yang: Wow, That's a surprise.

Ruby: But why? What's wrong with Jaune?

Weiss: He’s been the worst! I keep having to deal with issues at the company! Cleaning the mess my father made! And then, after an awful day of work, what am I greeted with!?

Yang: A blown up house?

Blake: Another woman?

Ruby: Jaune wouldn't do that blake! Geez. . . . .Oh! Was it maybe a dead body?

Weiss: No! As soon as I come in he greets me with that stupid! Bright! And warm smile! He hugs me tight goes on about missing me soooo much! He covers me in kisses! Takes me in to show the warm bath he prepared for me! The house which is basically spotless and the dinner which was my favorite! Aaaarggh! Just thinking about it makes my blood boil! *Chugs the drink*

Ruby: . . . . . . . .

Yang: . . . . . . . .

Blake: . . . . . . . . . .that's it?

Weiss: Oh no. No no no, it gets worse. After dinner he brings me a whole cheesecake! Freshly made! And after we ate he took me to the living room and massaged every corner of my stressed body! I felt like I was melting! Oh gods the nerve of that man!!!

Yang: Wow, sounds like a nightmare.

Weiss: I know! Because it is!

Blake: *deadpan* Is it though?

Ruby: Err, Weiss? Are you sure there's a problem there? Because you make it sound like he's doing something bad but apparently he's been really sweet to you.

Weiss: I know! And it's unbearable!

Ruby: But why?

Weiss: BECAUSE IT'S NOVEMBER RUBY!!!

R_BY: Ohhhh. . . . .

Blake: He’s doing that dumb challenge too? I thought it was just Sun.

Ruby: *sigh* Nah, Oscar was doing it too.

Yang: Sounds like a headache. Lucky me and Arslan don't struggle with that stuff.

Blake: Yes, because she's not a guy, they tend to be incredibly stubborn about the stupidest things. Well, as stubborn as you can be with someone who knows all your weaknesses.

Ruby: Got him to give up?

Blake: Around a week in, would’ve been sooner if i wasn't busy with the fang. Oscar giving you trouble?

Ruby: Nope. He went for ten days straight, then he walked in on me coming out of the shower and he snapped. *Chuckles* I wasn't even trying to make him lose.

Weiss: *eyebrow twitching* Good to know I'm the only one suffering here.

Yang: Come on ice cream. You know that guy is basically addicted to you, if you give him a push in the right direction I'm pretty sure he’ll just crumble.

Weiss: And you think I haven't tried!? Skimpy swimsuits, Lingeries, Nudes throughout the day, dirty comments, cosplaying his favorite characters, offering to do the most questionable things! I used every last trick in the book and he STILL didn't cave in!

Yang: Oh, wow.

Blake: I knew he had a strong will but this is still surprising to hear.

Weiss: It's so frustrating! I get to come back home every day to the most wonderful husband in the world, who pampers and looks after me, doing everything I wish and making me the happiest woman in Remnant! And you tell me I can't ride him to oblivion after all that!? It's unfair!!! Utter Injustice!!! I wished I knew who came up with this challenge so I could strangle them until they're blue!!!

Yang: *chuckles* I can't tell if you're angrier at not getting laid for three weeks now or at him for not falling for your charms.

Weiss: BOTH!!!

Ruby: I mean, you said you tried everything but it doesn't sound like it.

Weiss: I did Ruby. I most certainly did! And wore basically anything you could imagine, I went as far as to wear things that, if images were leaked online, my life would be ruined and Blake would never talk to me again.

Yang: . . . . . . .you wore a-

Blake: *covers her mouth* Please don't, I’d rather our friendship still exist by the end of the night. For once in my life i do NOT wanna know.

Yang: *pushes her out* Wow. You really pulled all the stops.

Weiss: And it did nothing to him!!! *Depressed sigh*

Ruby: I mean, so far it sounds like all you did was dress up and act sexy to try and make him cave in.

Weiss: What else was I supposed to do!?

Ruby: Did you forget who you're married to? It's pretty easy to get him to bend and do what you want once you pin his weakness down.

Weiss: . . . . . .that sounded very wrong, especially being about my husband.

Ruby: What? I never abused that weakness mind you! He's my best friend, I could never!

Yang: Unless he has your favorite cookies.

Ruby: *pink* That's different!

Weiss: Spit it out already!

Ruby: *sigh* . . . . .fine. but he ever asks, you didn't learn this from me.

-

Weiss: *walks in* I’m home.

Jaune: *wearing pajamas* Hey, how was your night? *Hugs her* Everyone doing well?

Weiss: Yeah. *Kisses him* Everyone is doing well.

Jaune: I left some food for you in the microwave, wasn’t sure if you would eat out so i made something.

Weiss: It's fine, we got something to eat on the way back.

Jaune: I’ll pack it up for tomorrow then. *Walking to the kitchen* By the way, Whitley called. He said something about a guy you sent to the hospital. Is everything okay at work?

Weiss: Yeah, someone tried hitting on me earlier, and I accidentally used too much force to push him off when he tried to get too close.

Jaune: *storing the food* Ouch. Almost makes me feel bad for him. . . . .almost. *feels a pair of arms wrapping around his torso from behind.* . . . . . .Weiss?

Weiss: *inhale* . . . . . .*deep exhale*

Jaune: *serious* Weiss. . . . .that guy didn't hurt you, did he?

Weiss: *chuckles* Good to know my knight is still there to protect me if I ever need, I thought he ended up buried under my cute husband.

Jaune: Weiss-

Weiss: He did nothing, just a few sweet words which I already forgot. I just wanted to hug you.

Jaune: If you say so, then I believe you. What do you wanna do now?

Weiss: Bed. I’m tired, could you come with me though?

Jaune didn't answer, he only turned around and picked her up in his arms, making her chuckle in response, he took her to the bedroom and helped her out of her clothes and into her nightgown, and soon enough, they were both in bed cuddling.

Weiss: *Chuckling*

Jaune: What’s so funny?

Weiss: Nothing. I’m just happy.

Jaune: That's good to hear. You seemed a little stressed these last few days.

Weiss: Yeah. . . .but I'm fine now. In fact, I couldn't be happier.

Jaune: Really?

Weiss: Of course. *Hugs him closer* I’ve got a nice house, a good job, great friends and above all else *Looks up to him* the most wonderful husband in the world.

Jaune: *pink, scratching his cheek* Hehehe, I’m just doing what I can. It's not a big deal.

Weiss: It is for me. . . .for someone who grew up in a cold house, surrounded by people I couldn't trust, having someone that I can trust and love this much is everything.

Jaune: Weiss. . . . .

Weiss: You never ignore me, you always know when I'm not okay, you look after my every need, you go above and beyond to make me happy, and you know me even better than I do myself. I must've been a saint in a past life to be blessed with someone so wonderful as you are. I wanna stay like this and hold on to you for the rest of my life. *Angelic smile* Thank you for marrying me, my love.

Jaune: . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

-

Jaune: *naked on the bed and spooning her* God damnit. . . . .

Weiss: *sweaty and giggling*

Jaune: I can't believe I fell for that.

Weiss: Fell for what~? I was being honest, you know?

Jaune: I know! And that makes it even more of a dirty move!

Weiss: My heart bleeds for you.

Jaune: *groan* I was just a week away. I resisted everything you threw at me and this is how I lost?

Weiss: Yep. I thought there was no way out until a certain someone reminded me how weak you are to someone being genuinely emotional with you.

Jaune: It was Ruby wasn't it? Every time i have her favorite cookies she'll go on this emotional speech about how much it matters to her that i’m her best friend and all we went through, and when i realize i already gave her the cookies.

Weiss: I won't confirm nor deny anything.

Jaune: Ugh, figures.

Weiss: *turns to him* Oh please, you say it as if you didn't like it.

Jaune: Of course I did, I've been craving you for weeks.

Weiss: Good to hear, I felt the same.

Jaune: Just don't do that next year or I'm telling Blake about your secret costumes.

Weiss: You’re doing that again next year!?

Jaune: *chuckles* That's your main concern?

Weiss: Of course I am! These last three weeks have been hell!

Jaune: If that's the case. . . .*on top of her* Then let me take you to paradise.

Weiss: *pink* That wasn't enough for you?

Jaune: Nowhere near enough to make up for these three weeks. You gotta work Tomorrow?

Weiss: Not really, they have to fix the wall in my office so. . . . .

Jaune: Good. You won't have to make up an excuse then. Might need one for after tomorrow though.

Weiss: *red* . . . . . . .I’m in danger aren't i?

Jaune: The plan was to win the challenge and slowly ease back into routine. You tricked me into losing so now I’m giving you what you want, all of it.

Weiss: *redder* C-can we talk about this for a mome-AAHHHH~!?!?

[jenscx]

[15] CALL ME BACK — last friday night

9.57pm: ning yizhuo’s party

the moment you had replied to wonyoung, a voice rang out from the crowd, yelling your name. you turn your head, making eye contact with the tall beauty, smirking at you.

“hey, sweetheart,” wonyoung waves slowly, her eyes dragging up and down your body, “gracing me with your presence?”

you laugh, “only for a few minutes, i’ve got to settle things with sakura.” wonyoung tilts her head, reminiscent of a puppy. her bunny eyes stare at you, “what? i can’t hear you.”

before you even attempt to repeat what you said, wonyoung interrupts, “let’s go somewhere quieter.” her cold hand grasps around your wrists, pulling you to a secluded room upstairs. ningning’s party playlist and the sound of people cheering drowns out, only leaving the soft ambience of ariana grande’s voice in your ears.

“so!” wonyoung smiles, “what were you saying?” she settles on the massive guest bed, taking her heels off and massaging her swollen ankles.

“kkura and i have to talk, so i can’t stay for long,” you repeat, eyes trailing around the room. you wonder how wonyoung even knew that this room would be empty. in a party like this, it would be expected that all the rooms would either be full of people smoking, or having sex.

“talk? talk about what?” wonyoung asks curiously. you sigh, thinking about the impending headache of an argument that is your relationship.

sakura was a lovely girlfriend; she always took care of you and never complained about your clingy nature. but she never really liked the company you kept around, mostly avoiding hangouts that you tried to arrange between them.

(“i’m friends with jungwon, but you can’t be friends with my best friend?”

“jungwon’s not my best friend, so your argument is invalid. i’m not going five feet near park sunghoon.”)

“i didn’t tell her about this party,” you frown, “she found out ‘cause sullyoon tweeted about it.”

“oh? you didn’t? why not?” she asks, getting up and rummaging through the cabinets.

“don’t know. just didn’t think it was important enough to tell her.”

it still wasn’t, in your head. you didn’t need to tell sakura if you were going to a party or not. it wasn’t like you lied straight up to her.

“maybe she has some trust issues, it’s kinda common nowadays,” wonyoung suggests, pulling out a bottle of alcohol, “found it!”

“how’d you know it was there?”

wonyoung grins, “ning told aeri and aeri told me. secret stash hidden away from the party.”

she sits back down, taking a chug out of the bottle.

“what’s up with your relationship then?”

you take a moment to think.

“it’s mostly a me thing though, sometimes i just do things to annoy her,” you mumble as wonyoung hands you the bottle, “mhm, thanks. her reactions’ funny. i do it just to make her angry.”

wonyoung laughs, “ah, is that why?”

“yea, she gets annoyed easily,” you giggle, thinking about sakura’s furious texts flooding your phone whenever you did something.

“you’re interesting,” she remarks, “deliberately making her angry. when did you guys meet?”

“we met at a party, park jaemin hosted it. she was introduced to me by one of yoona’s friends, i think her name’s haewon? sakura was the one who asked me out first, it was quite cute,” you smile, the memory of a stuttering and blushing sakura appearing in your mind.

you continued with your story, taking sips every time wonyoung passed you the bottle.

“cute,” wonyoung comments.

“hm?”

“your relationship,” she clarifies, “it’s cute.”

giggling, you nod. “sakura’s a cutie. ugh, what was i supposed to say to her again? i think she’s mad at me.”

“you’re meeting her later?”

“yeah, i need to apologise…” at this point, your words were completely slurred. wonyoung watched in amusement at how you struggled to stand up.

“i don’t think you’re in the best condition to talk to her, or even walk. maybe you should sober up first.”

you nod, completely out of it. wonyoung’s angelic face was just a blurry figure in your eyes.

“let me… just sleep… wake me up in 5…”

“okay, y/n. sleep well.”

masterlist | next

TAGS ! @jiwoneiric @yoontoonwhs @haerinsloverr @wallfl9wer @klvarchives @r4cjh @jisooftme @jeindall777 @chaersly @perfectsunlight @thefckghost @pagedpick7 @pinxeajin @pandafuriosa60 @limbforalimb @idkwhatim-doinghere101 @sewiouslyz @manooffline @geeminz @flolio @watamotee33 @winzzie @gayforalll @xszn

[taintedcigs]

GETAWAY CAR — rockstar!e.m. x f!reader

CHAPTER ONE: BEST OF TIMES, THE WORST OF CRIMES

next chapter →

✦ summary: in which you return to hawkins to attend your best friend nancy's wedding, facing the problems you left behind, and the one person you abandoned; eddie munson. (wc: 9.4k+)

✦ warnings — ANGSTANGSTANGST, pining and slowburn, reuniting <33, strong language!, mentions of alc*hol and drg use and a toxic relationship, reader is sad and feels guilty. kinda mean eddie but not rlly.

✦ pairings — rockstar!eddie munson x fem!reader, past billy hargrove x fem!reader

✦ authors note — okay so its finally HERE. im SOOO EXCITED for u guys to read it!! i have tried to proof-read this a lot but my mind is fuzzy so ignore all mistakes!! if u need some stuff to listen to while reading this long ass chapter or the songs mentioned in it u can check out the playlist !! hope yall enjoy it mwah &lt;3

series masterlist | series playlist

I'm a cold heartbreaker Fit to burn and I'll rip your heart in two

The sound coming from your slightly jammed stereo while the rain gently pattered on the roof of your car could’ve been heavenly. 

If only it weren’t the roads of Hawkins that you were travelling in. Five years that had passed were seemingly nothing when you recognized the familiar streets and the infamous forest, heart skipping a beat when you finally arrived on Maple Street. 

The cars parked just outside of the Wheeler House were enough to give you anxiety, especially when your eyes spotted that van. His van. Why did he still have it? Wasn’t he a rich rock star by now? There was an unnecessary bitter taste in your throat, and your gaze was stuck on the van now, gulping physically as you tried to ignore those guilty feelings bubbling up inside of you. Mind quick to revel in all those memories you had with him in that stupid vehicle.

5 YEARS AGO.

“Hurry!” You whisper-yelled, still looking around, Eddie was right behind you, his tongue darting out of his mouth as it always did when he was focused, running like hell as his calloused hands harshly gripped the tequila bottle that you two had just stolen.

The angry voice of the shop’s owner had long disappeared by now, but you could never be too careful. When you finally got close to his van, you stopped Eddie immediately. “Behind you!” You yelled in a fake-worried voice, causing Eddie to start sprinting forward toward the car.

When he noticed you not following and breaking into laughter, his worried face eased as he realized your little prank, giving you a humorless laugh as he started sprinting towards you.

You squealed when he grabbed you by your waist, lifting you off in one swift motion, spinning you around as your giggles filled the space.

Eddie’s grin faltered quickly. “I hate you,” He mocked in a serious tone.

 “I’m sorry, but I just love that worried look on your face. And, oh god, that sprint! You know what you should be?” You asked, a smirk forming on your lips as you waited for him to fall into your trap.

Eddie sighed exhaustedly, a grin plastered on his face, he put you down.

You squealed happily as he did so, “A... Tiger!” You mimicked pompoms with your hands as you tried to re-do your cheer routine, chanting after Eddie.

He playfully nudged your shoulders, “Oh, Pinky... You are on a roll today, huh?” He asked, the nickname rolled off his tongue so sweetly. It was a stupid fucking name, sure, but you loved it. It somehow stuck, the entire town calling you Pinky ever since you pronounced ‘Pinky Promise’ wrong once and your parents funnily referred to you by it.

You nodded, giggling, stealing the bottle from his hands, and chugging a sip. “This was a great idea.” You hummed, pointing to the bottle, the bitter taste burning your throat, almost coughing with how big of a chug you took.

He quirked his brows, flying over to your side as he opened your car door.

“Let’s go, thief.” He tilted his head, hands gesturing forward animatedly.

“What a gentleman!” You mocked dramatically, sliding into the messy van easily as Eddie heaved a sigh.

He sprinted toward the other door, cursing as he struggled to open the rusty door, eyes bulging out of his head almost as he checked to make sure the coast was clear. “You know…” He started with a muffled sigh as he hopped into the driver’s seat. 

“Everyone thought I would be a bad influence on you… or that you would at least be a good influence on me, but ever since I met you, all we have done is illegal shit.” His voice was mocking. “I think it’s time you give up that good girl cheerleader title, princess. Because forcing your best friend to steal booze is definitely not good girl material.” 

Throwing your hands up in defense, you turned to him. “And they still think you are the devil worshipper!” You added, a hearty laugh escaping from your slurry lips.

Eddie sighed when he couldn’t turn the ignition properly, his van—Aurora, which Eddie of course named himself—was too old now.

“Oh, come on, baby,” He whispered when his fingers roughly tried to turn the key further, earning a hesitant cough from his precious Aurora. “Pleasepleaseplease…” He whispered, engine roaring back to life now with his second try. “There you go, honey, thank you!” He exclaimed as he threw his hands up in the air, mouth quick to press up against the wheel, giving Aurora a thousand kisses, causing you to squint your eyes.

“You are… pathetic,” You scoffed with a shake of your head, a teasing smirk playing at your lips.

“Oh, we’ll see who’s pathetic,” He disagreed dramatically. His eyes diverted from the road as he sneakily grabbed your bag, causing you to protest quickly. “Hey!” He didn’t mind your tug on his bicep when he dug his whole arm into your bag, fiddling as he tried to find your cassette tape under all the mess.

“There we go,” He hummed when he animatedly pulled it toward your sight. ‘BEST MIXTAPE’ The tape dramatically read when Eddie snatched it out of your view stuffing it away from you. 

“If you make fun of Aurora, you lose your music privileges.” He hummed all-knowingly, a troublesome look overtaking his features as he focused back on the road. Your gaze squinted, barely able to see his plump lips that were now quipped into a grin.

“Really…” You hummed, hiding behind the way your lips twitched mischievously.

Eddie’s curiosity was quick to perk up; you not whining ‘Eds!!’ as you elbowed him and huffed when you called him a jerk meant only one thing.

You had some really good new music.

“You sure about that… Munson?” You quirked a brow, grin growing wider as you seized your bag from his hands, earning a groan from Eddie.

“What have you got up your sleeve, sweetheart?” He asked, stealing a quick glance at one of your pretty smiles before he turned his attention to the road.

“Something really good…” You hummed, hand diving into your bag again before you reclined in your seat, throwing him a knowing look.

“Jesus…” He whined. “What d’ya want?” He implored, his gaze squinting.

You wanted to keep the game going, tease him further, and get him to his breaking point. But the way his eye twitched with curiosity, tongue licking his lips with need made you want to tell him everything, let him in on your little surprise.

“Hmm… Music privileges…” 

“And?” He asked with a huff, knowing that’s not all you wanted.

“And, I’m gonna pick the place where we drink this cutie!” You exclaimed, hand pointing toward the tequila bottle you had a firm grip on.

He threw you a glare; it wasn’t a hard glare, you knew it and he knew it, he did it just to tease you, and that’s exactly what had you so giddy about him. “Fine…” He whined, teasing further. “Whatcha got?”

You clapped animatedly, pulling out the cassette with a huge grin. The Cure’s ‘The Head on The Door’ album was swaying in your hands as Eddie groaned.

You pouted. “You got me all excited for The Cure?” He pinched his brows together, causing you to gasp dramatically, huffing.

“What’s wrong with The Cure? You love them!” You protested, glaring at him.

“You love The Cure, sweetheart.” He grinned, earning a scoff from you as your hands were quick to wrap around your chest annoyedly.

“Just for that, you won’t get to know what the second album is. And it really was a good one.” You shrugged, putting the bag in front of your legs, just out of Eddie’s reach.

“Oh, come on!” He sighed, eyeing you with squinted eyes. 

“I was joking! I love The Cure.” He murmured, but you shrugged again, eyes falling toward the window as you started giving him the silent treatment playfully.

“Really?” He understood your play. “Jesus H. Christ.” He huffed, attention turning toward you.

“Just check the glove compartment.” You ignored him again.

“Pinky.” He called out. “Do it.” His eyes pointed toward it, causing you to sigh as you opened it unenthusiastically.

A bunch of cassette tapes fell toward your lap, you squealed at the contact. “Eddie!” You exclaimed with a chuckle.

Three Imaginary Boys, Seventeen Seconds, Faith, Pornography and The Top was sprawled across your lap, and your eyes widened.

The Cure’s discography. Just sitting in his glove compartment.

You turned to him with an affectionate gaze, hands covering your mouth as you stood speechless.

“Wh-what are these?” You were a stuttering mess. Did he really do all of this for you?

“Uh–I’m pretty sure those are albums, princess,” He mocked you in a playful tone as you tilted your head, tongue sticking out in a childish manner.

His smile grew wider before he shook his head. “Started collecting those–uh… after that day–uhh, you remember that?” His gaze avoided yours. 

“We–uh almost got kicked out of The Hideout?” He muttered with a sly grin, eyes focused on the road just so you wouldn’t notice the slight flush on his cheeks.

“Eds–” You attempted to speak, but he didn’t let you. “You remember that day? You asked me what my favorite band was?” You nodded furiously, Eddie didn’t even have to take another glance at you to know you had a warm smile on your face, sensing your head bobbing up and down excitedly. 

“Y-you know, before they tried to kick us out?” You gave him a slight giggle, humming.

“I told you mine was Dio. And you told me yours was The Cure?” A dizzying grin was stuck on your face, cheeks stretching with pain from how big it was. And Eddie knew if he looked, even for a split second, he’d fall for you all over again. He knew that he couldn’t contain those feelings inside of him anymore. So he avoided it. He avoided that one glance thrown your way because he didn’t want to lose you.

You bowed your head to say ‘yes’ again, words didn’t dare come out of your grinning lips. You didn’t know what to do; you wanted to hug him, feel his arms wrapped around you. You wanted to kiss his flushed cheeks and his apparent dimple, which you couldn’t get enough of.

The silence hanging in the air was killing you. “I remember.” You muttered, almost shyly, like the two of you weren’t teasing the hell out of each other mere seconds ago. 

His brows furrowed when you leaned over your seat again, digging something from your bag as you hid it behind you.

“That is why…” You smiled, hands shaking as you hid the cassette behind your back. “I got you this!” You exclaimed, swinging the tape in front of his bulging eyes.

His eyes squinted before the realisation set in. You remembered that day. Just like he did. You remembered his favorite band. Just like he did yours.

He didn’t want to get his hopes up, you were just being friendly, right? You didn’t do this in the same loving, caring way he did. You did this as a friend. You were a great friend. And he was an asshole for harboring these feelings for his best friend.

He couldn’t help the squeak that escaped his plump lips. The car came to a halt quicker than he intended it to. Swinging you over your seat, making you squeal with him.

“Jesus, Eddie!” You giggled, turning to face him and seeing his speechless face as he admired you. You could feel your cheeks heat up, and it was embarrassing.

Why did he have to look at you like that?

Why did he have to complicate things for you?

You wouldn’t be good enough for him.

And there was Billy. Billy. Billy. Billy—

Your inner thoughts were interrupted by his childlike screams as he seized the Sacred Heart album by Dio from your hands.

He didn’t hesitate—like you did—to engulf you in a hug. Hands securely resting on your lower back, and you could feel your breath hitch.

You would spend all of your work pay checks on stupid damn records if it meant you could see him like this again, and you’d happily starve if it meant you’d have him hug you like this again. But that’s what friends did, right? 

“Oh my god.” His eyes widened, tone much calmer before his excitement rose up again. 

“Oh my fucking god, Pinky!” He yelled in delight again, taking you by surprise when his hands were holding your shoulder in excitement. 

“Y-you… shit- you got this for me?” He asked with a sympathetic gaze.

You nodded quickly. “Of course!” 

“Why’d you think we had to steal that bottle?” You winked teasingly, causing him to snort.

“Pinky, you’re the fucking best.” He muttered into your hair, a grin overtaking your features when he held your face in his hands, honey-glazed eyes boring into yours.

“Thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou.” His fast-paced mantra left you giggling again before he pressed a small, appreciative smooch on your forehead.

He was just being friendly, you thought. There was no way he could want something more. You were beyond fucked up for that, and Billy was the only proof you needed.

He sighed contently when he relaxed back into his seat. “Wherever you want to go, princess, let me know.” He winked with a childish smile.

The two cassettes were replayed over and over again before the two of you made your way to your ‘special destination’.

Dragging Eddie through the woods while he whined earned several giggles from you. He chugged the bottle in his hands with a sour face.

“How much longer do we have to fuckin’ walk?” He complained, his feet dragging on to exaggerate.  

“We’re almost there, you dork.” You squinted your eyes at another frustrated groan escaped his lips. Laughter erupting from your stomach teasingly before you handed him the stolen bottle, Eddie chugged quickly, and his face soured, “How did you even find this place anyway?” He asked.

“Skull Rock?” You asked, and he nodded. “Wait, you don’t know about Skull Rock?” You questioned, eyes widening, causing Eddie to roll his. “C'mon, Pinky, not all of us hang out with the prissy popular kids.”

You gasped and playfully but still harshly hit his chest, “Ow!” He flinched. “Shit, are all cheerleaders as heavy-handed as you?” He asked, furrowing his brows. “Hey, I barely touched you!” You smirked while he faked getting hurt, rubbing his chest mockingly.

“Skull Rock is known as the make-out spot of Hawkins.” You enunciated dramatically as Eddie ooh-ed, “Thanks to, ‘King Steve’”, you mocked, mimicking air quotes.

Eddie’s eyes widened. “Wait… wait,” His walking came to a halt when he tried to process that information. “Y-you and Steve?” He asked, dumbfounded, a slight overtone of jealousy was apparent in his tone, mixed with his own insecurities, and your face was quick to sour. “God, no!” You scrunched your nose; you loved Steve, but not in that way, never in that way.

“Who do you think taught him this place?” You tilted your brows. 

“I came here the first time my parents left with a tiny note stuck on the fridge.” You shrugged. You were used to your parents always leaving you without any notice other than a scribbled note that told you that they’d be gone for a while. And you never knew if it would be for days or for months. Now that they've been gone for the last four months, you assumed it was permanent this time, and even though you never admitted to it, it fucking hurt. Coming here has been your only escape lately. And all you wanted to do was share it with Eddie, have him in your comfort zone. 

Eddie’s face soured; you could see that red tint on his cheeks, almost like he was furious. And he was, because he understood. He understood what it was like to have deadbeat parents who were fucking useless, he understood the pain it brought and how it could make a person feel so fucking unwanted. But at least he had Wayne. You didn’t have anyone. The closest thing to you had that resembled a family were your friends and the Wheelers—and even that wasn’t enough to give him some peace of mind. 

“When Steve had his first heartbreak, I brought him here, but that fucker turned this place into an orgy party,” You continued, a simple chuckle escaping your lips. 

“And after that, people started coming here all the time for their little make-out sesh.” Your hands stretched forward to make a point, and you rolled your eyes. 

“Even Billy took me here one time,” You murmured the Billy part, wanting to avoid the talk with Eddie because you knew neither of them liked each other, and you rarely, if ever, spoke about him with Eddie, while Billy always announced his distaste for Eddie, murmuring about how it was obvious that the “freak” just wanted to get in your pants.

“You know, Billy is one of those people who think I’m a bad influence on you because I’m a “freak” and “devil worshipper,” right, sweetheart?” You avoided his gaze.

You didn’t want to talk about Billy, at least not with Eddie, and not now. You just wanted one thing to yourself without him being involved, which seemed impossible.

You forced a smile. “Well, Billy is…” an asshole, an idiot, and sometimes a fucking narcissist, you wished to say, but you didn’t want to drag Eddie into your relationship problems. Billy was still your boyfriend, and in all honesty, your on and off relationship was something that no one actually understood.

Nancy gave Billy a glare each time he came around, Steve and Robin constantly reminded you how awful he was. But it didn’t matter, because you couldn’t let him go, each time he fucked you up in a different way, you went back to him.

You took him back because you didn’t know any better, you accepted him because love was supposed to be like this, wasn’t it? It was supposed to be a challenge, it was supposed to be fucking hard. It was supposed to be something to fight for.

But it was so…exhausting. Trying to get him to understand you, trying to get him to care, trying not to make him mad—walking on egg-shells each time you were around him.

And everything was so fucking different with Eddie; things were so uncomplicated with him and so fucking fun. You didn’t want to admit that you wanted that… that you wanted him. 

Because he was easy—and in the best possible way. He was so easy to love. He was safe and he made you feel safe. When he caressed your back, when he opened a door for you, when he let you walk in front of him with his hand ghosting over your lower back, when you asked him to hold your bag and he swung it over his shoulder. He laughed at things easily, he made you laugh easily. He listened intently, when you just wanted to open up for a bit, he was quiet; when you needed someone to talk to, he gave you all the advice in the world.

And more than anything, Eddie cared. He cared about you, in a way you had never been cared for before.

He brought a side out of you that you never knew existed; relaxed. He was gentle with you, he knew how to joke around, and he didn’t have any problems being who he was. He was open and nice; he didn’t get angry at everything, and it was just… nice to be around him.

You shook your head at your thoughts, “Billy is Billy.” You concluded, eyes fixed on the ground. Eddie just gave you a small smile, as if he understood your train of thought. His hands caressed your back reassuringly in a way that was telling you that it was okay to think what you were thinking, and it brought an imminent smile to your face, knowing that he would always be there for you.

You remembered that night clearly when the two of you drank an entire bottle of booze you stole, and smoked Eddie’s stash, bodies lazily laying next to each other, Skull Rock had the best view, stars filled the empty sky, and a crescent moon appeared between them.

It was relaxing, lying with Eddie, high out of your mind.

“There’s no way you think Honeycomb Cereal is the best breakfast food.” You shook your head as Eddie scoffed.

“I do! It counts as breakfast, and you can also eat it as a snack on its own, what more do you need?” He raised his brows, taking a puff from the joint sitting between his index fingers.

“Uh? I don’t know, waffles? Eggs and bacon? Actual good cereal?” You mocked, causing Eddie to nudge your side lightly.

“Oh, and which cereal does the princess think is the best?”

“Cinnamon Toast Crunch, of course,” You said proudly.

“You are disgusting.” Eddie scrunched his face. You shrugged with a grin on your face as you snatched the joint from his fingers, reaching for the lighter in his hand. And before you could even light the blunt sitting in your fingers, the carved lighter caught your attention.

It was a silver Zippo lighter with a dragon print and had scratches all over it. You scrunched your brows as you looked up at Eddie and said, “What the hell is this?” You held the lighter up, and Eddie seized it from your hands.

“A lighter?” He replied smugly, causing you to huff, “Where did you even get it?” Your curiosity peaked.

“Bummed it off a guy at the bar last night, pretty fuckin’ cool, huh?” He asked, getting excited as he showed you the print, the carving of the dragon was so detailed that you could basically count its scales.

“Stealing is considered cool?” You murmured, causing Eddie to give you a huff as he placed the lighter on the rock between the two of you, allowing you to get a more detailed look. 

“Really, Pinky?” He almost snorted. “How about you answer that one, because the tequila bottle you’re holding wasn’t paid for... If I remember correctly,” He mocked a thinking face, dimples ever-so apparent as he tried to contain his grin.

“I–We!” You expressed in a higher tone, “Didn’t steal that bottle because it was cool, doofus. We! did it because we’re poor.” You enunciated the ‘us’ part again before nudging his rib slightly and prodding, earning a “Hey!” from Eddie, who was ticklish. 

“Anyway.” You giggled, handing the lighter back to him with a grin on your face, “Would’ve been cooler if it was pink.” Eddie gave you a weird look.

“What?” You implored, shrugging carelessly.

“Pinky liking pink… what a surprise, huh?” He said sarcastically, causing you to groan.

“Don’t be such a guy, Munson,” You warned, you liked pink, but both of you knew that wasn’t why the nickname stuck. And it didn’t matter what it truly meant because you liked it. You liked that it was the only thing you had from them that didn’t leave—something that was truly yours, something that would never abandon you. 

“Oh, you know that’s not why, you doofus.” You rolled your eyes. “Have you ever seen a pink dragon?” You gushed, and Eddie shook his head. 

“See! Case closed.” You grinned.

“Pink dragons are cool,” You said with a determined face, and Eddie couldn’t help the grin that was plastered onto his face now.

You spent the rest of the night giggling like a bunch of kids over nothing, the chilling breeze of the Hawkins nights providing comfort to you that you had never felt before.

When your shivers hadn’t stopped, you heard Eddie sighing, “Okay, you are getting my jacket,” He insisted, annoyed, because you had refused his offer for a jacket a million times just because you didn’t want him to be cold.

He rolled his eyes and shook his head before you could open your mouth to refuse. Calloused hands quick to securely wrap his infamous black leather jacket around you. You looked up at him, a sympathetic gaze apparent, as you tried to refuse, tried to insist that he would get cold, but he didn’t accept it. “Better I freeze off than you.”

Your heart fluttered before it was apparent on your face, lips twitching into a warm, sickly sweet smile as you accepted, “Thank you,” You murmured, almost shyly. The jacket fell comfortably on your shoulders, a whiff of weed, beer and the old leather smell engulfed you, warmth taking over your entire body.

You liked the feeling of wearing something that was his. In fact, you liked it too much. Something about Eddie always provided some sort of security for you. He made you feel comfortable in your skin, like he was meant to be there for you, like he was supposed to help you, even when you repeatedly told him you didn’t need it. You cleared your throat to gather your thoughts, taking the joint in his hands as your head slowly but comfortably fell on his shoulders.

Taking a puff from it, you looked over at Eddie. “As soon as I graduate, I’m leaving this place.” You could feel his head turn toward you, his gaze almost burning its way through your hair. 

“Eight months, eight fucking months left.” Your tone was the most serious he had heard that night, and he couldn’t help but have a baffling look on his face. You had mentioned something about ‘leaving this hellhole’ before, but he never knew how serious you were, at least until now.

He shook his head quickly to gather his thoughts. He didn’t want to make a big deal out of it and scare you away, so he shrugged. “Fine, but you can’t abandon me, I’m coming with you.” His tone was nonchalant, and it brought a smile to your face.

“I would never leave without you.”

NOW.

You shook your head at the memories, at least you had achieved one of those things. You got out of the hellhole that was Hawkins as soon as you graduated, being selfish enough to not care about the ones you had left behind, but you needed to do whatever you could to survive, and you shouldn’t have to apologize for it, right?

Right?

It’s what you kept repeating to yourself, but there was one part of you that always felt guilty for leaving without a goodbye, cutting off all contact. And that guilt returned with Nancy’s invitation; you knew you couldn’t hold off on her wedding, no matter how much you wanted to escape the town that caused you agony.

Nancy was your best friend when you were living in Hawkins, she was there with you through everything, and the Wheelers were there when your parents abandoned you, inviting you to their home as if it were nothing. 

You've seen Nancy, Jonathan, Steve, and Robin several times in the last couple of years. Especially after Nancy told them the exact reason why you left, they understood and welcomed you. 

That’s what you loved about them; even though you spent some time apart, they would always be your best friend. And that is exactly why Nancy picked you as her maid of honor—because she knew you’d always be there. She trusted you with her whole life, and so did you. The two of you knew things about each other that no one else did. 

And I'll leave you lyin' on the bed I'll be out the door before you wake

You huffed when you turned the stereo off, the lyrics giving you a stupid familiar  feeling, like it was written about you and Eddie. Like Axl and Izzy were hiding somewhere in the California apartment you and Eddie stayed in right after you left, as if they witnessed you leaving him there. 

The song became an afterthought when you realized you actually had to go in now or one of Wheeler’s snobby neighbors would surely call the cops on you for suspiciously watching the house while hiding in your car like a coward.

Eddie was already in there.

What if everyone else was there too? 

Would they cuss you out and tell you to fuck off? 

You surely deserved it.

You cursed yourself when you exited the car, feet dragging you all the way to the door, knowing that you needed to do this. Inhaling a deep breath, you rang the bell, even the tune sounded the same, and the guilt inside of you started rising up again.

“Will you get that?” Nancy’s screaming voice could be barely heard from your side of the door, and your eyes immediately pressed shut together.

Please don’t let it be Eddie. Please don’t let it be Eddie. Please don’t let it be Eddie. Please don’t let it be Eddie. Please don’t let it be Eddie. Please don't let it be Eddie—

When the door swung open, the eyes that met yours blinked quickly, not knowing whether they were imagining it or not.

Your blinking eyes were quick to open widely as well, and a sigh of relief left your chest.

It wasn’t Eddie.

But it still wasn’t any better. Your face was quick to feel hot as your gaze met hers, and you felt ashamed. Not knowing what to say, you murmured a simple “Hey.”

Max stood in front of you with an unreadable expression, and you were afraid. For the first time, you were afraid of her.

Was she going to slam the door in your face? Was she just going to ignore you? 

You bit your lip out of nervousness at the silence, and just as you were about to open your mouth again, Max squealed—which you had never, ever heard her do before—as she wrapped her arms around you in a jump-like hug.

Your breath got caught in your lungs, and a hearty giggle escaped your plump lips as you embraced it, melting into the hug. 

“I can’t believe it.” She squealed, pulling away from the hug to see your face fully again, her eyes almost prickling with tears.

Jesus. She had grown up so fast.

Her face that fell around your shoulders felt weird now that she was so much taller and much closer to you in height. She looked different, and you couldn’t decide whether to feel ashamed or guilty about it.

Your eyes widened, almost in shock, you never expected to be perceived in any way positively, especially by Max. And she could sense that shock on your face, with the way your mouth visibly stood agape. 

“You-uh… you’re not mad?” You implored, eyes almost widening with the need to know. 

Her eyes softened, and the sorrows in your heart were quick to dissipate with it, she shook her head lightly, almost in an all-knowing way.  “Uhm- I-I know what happened.” She almost whispered, gaze falling toward the kitchen, implying that Nancy had already babbled about the day you left. 

Damn you, Nancy Wheeler. 

Your head popped up toward the kitchen, where Nancy was, as if you were going to run up to her, your cheeks fluttered with embarrassment, you never wanted Max to find out. 

“Don’t… please don’t be mad at her.” She turned your attention back to her with a gentle touch on your arm, easing your tense body with just one touch. 

“If she didn’t tell me what happened… I don’t think I’d even talk to you, Pinky.” She admitted shyly, your gaze on her still widening. 

“Wh-what exactly did she tell you?” You asked, you weren’t going to get mad at Nancy, you knew she didn’t have any malicious intentions, you just never wanted Max to know what her step-brother did. At least not until she was much older. Your brain almost short-circuited as you looked at her once again. She was already much older; you knew Nancy made the right call.

“Not much!” Max blurted quickly, maybe to ease your worries; maybe it was the truth. 

“Just that- uh-that… Billy did something horrible, and that you and Eddie left and then uh… the two of you went to.. uh—Chicago?” She stuttered, head hanging low before she looked back at you, trying to read your expressions.

“California,” You muttered.  “Uh-Los Angeles, to be exact.” You breathed, correcting her. Did she know more? Did she also know that you left Eddie after that, too? Did she know that you had been carrying the guilt of leaving Eddie, her and those four little idiots too? The only ones you didn’t have any contact with in the last five years?

“Is that… is that where you are now?” Her brows pinched together; she knew where you were—New York, Nancy had told her. But she just wanted to hear more from you, and you could sense it. 

You shook your head. “New York.” Your lips pursed together, and she gave you a slight nod as if to ask if there was anything else going on in your life, you caught it immediately. “My cousin helped me get this apartment, and she, uh, has this record shop there.” Max gave you a tight-lipped smile.

“And, uh, it has like a tattoo shop behind it—records by day and tattoos by night.” You revealed more, awkwardly, your stupid joke made you want to hit your head against the perfectly white marbled walls of the Wheeler’s. “I’m actually training to become a tattoo artist now,” You said with your gaze stuck on how much she had grown now, almost feeling embarrassed for some reason before Max’s gasp turned your attention back to her.

“No way.”

“Dude, you’re still so fucking cool.” She nudged your shoulder, and your face instantly lit up. All the worries in your head disappeared, giddiness replacing it when you realized Max still saw you as her cool older sister.

“You think so?” You teased, giving her a light-hearted chuckle, “Uh… yeah? Dude, you work at a record store that has a tattoo shop in the back… you invented cool at this point.” She encouraged, surprise and fascination washing over her face.

“If Mad Max says so” You teased, muffling her hair and earning whines from her. 

And you hated that it took you back to five years ago. Every stupid fucking thing you saw or did in this town made you take a trip down memory lane, but it was the worst with Max, because almost every memory with her had your head wandering off to the certain redhead’s step-brother. A chill ran down your spine at the idea of him even being back in town. But there was no fucking way, right? 

You had heard from Nancy that the Mayfield-Hargrove’s had moved out and returned to California by the time Max started going to college—somewhere far away from them. However, she and the other kids always returned to Hawkins in the summer. You assumed she wanted to reunite with her friends and that she was trying to avoid the step-fuckers—a nickname Max herself gave both Billy and Neil Hargrove.

“He-uh… He doesn’t know about the wedding, right? Or he isn’t… he isn’t back in town? Is he?” You stuttered eerily; you knew Nancy would never invite him, but you still wanted to make sure that he didn’t know about it or that he wouldn’t know you were back in town.

“No—god, no.” Max shook her head quickly. “He’s in California with the ‘parents’.” She scoffed. “He has no fucking clue.” She added.

And you nodded simply; one of your worries was now at ease.

“What about…” You trailed off, pretending to sound nonchalant about wanting to ask about Eddie, you were anything but as you fiddled with your fingers.

Max picked up on it immediately. “Eddie?” she asked almost smugly, making you nod quickly—too quickly to appear nonchalant.

“Oh!” She grinned, making your cheeks feel hot.

Damn it. How did he still have this effect on you without even being present?

“He came like an hour ago. The last I saw him he was arguing with Dustin about their nerdy game.” She rolled her eyes slightly. 

“Oh, uhm, that’s—that’s good…” You said unsurely, you knew he was here, because of his stupid van that was parked outside just behind your car, but what the fuck were you even going to do when you did eventually see him. 

Would you pretend like nothing happened?

Would he pretend like nothing happened?

How the fuck were you supposed to do that when your feelings for him were still all over the place? You already felt dumb for not managing to get over him in the last five years, it just seemed impossible considering how things were left off.

You cleared your throat, turning your attention to Max. You didn’t need Eddie to cloud your mind right now, the guilt of abandoning Max still filled your stomach.

“Max…” You caught her attention softly, and almost as if she knew you were going to bring up the subject, a pout overtook her features. 

“I—I’m sorry…” You started, voice shaky. “I fucked up, I should have let you know... A message, a call, a note… Jesus—anything.” Your voice was meek, causing you to gulp.

“I should have done something, I—Fuck… I don’t know what to say, just that I’m really sorry.” You were stumbling over your own words when your vision got blurry, eyes glossy as you looked up at her.

“Pinky…” She muttered comfortingly, you didn’t expect this kindness from her that you thought you were unworthy of. You had left her without anything, and she still greeted you with open arms.

Maybe you were wrong. Maybe people could forgive you, maybe they could forget. Maybe Eddie would laugh it off. 

“I know that…” She offered a sympathetic gaze. “I knew deep down that you would never leave without a goodbye if it wasn’t important.” She gulped, physically, that familiar lump in her throat returned with the emotional weight her words held. 

“I’m not a kid anymore.” Max gave you a small smile. “I know how hard that must’ve been for you, okay?” Her hands were quick to take yours into hers, fingers gently soothing you. “I don’t blame you. So don’t fucking blame yourself… I know how you get.” Her hands stood on your shoulder now, shaking you lightly in the guise of making you feel better. 

A poor smile appeared on your lips, Max possibly didn't realize how much her words mattered to you, how you needed to relieve yourself of the guilt. One gesture from her almost enough to heal the wound that coming back to Hawkins split open deep inside of you. 

“Oh my god!” Nancy’s shriek caused you to turn around. 

“Pinky, finally!” Her voice beamed, and before you even got a chance to say anything, she engulfed you in a hug.

 “I was about to lose it,” She whispered into the hug before her eyes widened at you and Max.

“Shit…” She muttered, knowing Max had probably already told you that she blabbed about your disappearance.

“I was going to mention that…” She tilted her head adorably, a shy smile adorning her lips as you brushed it off with a laugh.

“Don’t worry about it, Nance.” You waved your hands in dismissal. “I can’t be pissed at you for anything… at least for the next five days…” You hummed. 

“You better use your wedding privileges wisely.” You said, throwing her a wink, as you pulled away from the hug. 

Your hands rubbed together quickly. “So... uh–where’s everyone?” You stammered, you were mostly asking about Eddie, but you also wanted to know where the hell Steve and Robin were. You missed those two idiots who were attached at the hip. They could calm you down better than anyone.

“The other kiddos are only going to be able to make it to the rehearsal dinner and the actual wedding.” She pouted, knowing that she planned a five day full of activities for all the people closest to her and Jonathan, but Mike, Lucas, El and Will were all going to miss it. 

She huffed. “And uhhh… Steve and Robin are coming later tonight.” 

“You remember we got that brunch thing at Steve’s tomorrow, right?” She asked, eyes squinting with doubt, before her arms crossed against her chest. 

You almost groaned, head falling back. Fucking Steve and his stupid brunch plan. 

“How could I forget?” You said through pressed lips, trying your best to seem enthusiastic, it wasn’t that you had a problem with it—it was because you were nervous, so fucking nervous to be in the same close proximity of Eddie again.

“And Jonathan should be...” She eyed the backyard. “Yup, in the backyard with the band. I left all the band planning to him.” She shrugged, making your eyebrows quirk. 

Shit. She really did fucking love Jonathan, didn’t she? She would’ve never let anyone meddle with her own plans otherwise. 

“Uhh–Dustin and… the others–” Her voice slightly cracked, and you instantly knew she was talking about Eddie. 

“They’re-uh they’re just in the basement… uh—getting something I needed.” She nervously scratched her head. “I’m sure they’ll—uh… say hi when they can.” She gave you a nervous smile, eyeing Max before turning her attention to you.

And just like clockwork, just as Nancy started to babble more about the plans she had for the five days you were supposed to be in Hawkins, her words were quickly interrupted by the loud voice of Dustin, “Shut up!”

“Shut the fuck up!” He exclaimed excitedly as you gave him a slight giggle.

“I wasn’t talking,” You joked, and before you could get another word out, Dustin squeezed you in a tight hug, causing more giggles and excited squeaks to escape your lips.

“Looks like somebody missed me, huh?” You raised a brow.

“What have you been up to, Dustybun?” You asked with a sly smirk, causing Dustin to cringe at the nickname.

“Me? Jesus, you’ve been gone for five years, and you’re asking what I’ve been up to?” You shrugged.

“Where the fuck have you been?” You couldn’t pinpoint if it was genuine curiosity or a slight anger lingering in his tone.

“New York,” Max spoke before you, the attention in the room shifting towards her. 

“She’s a tattoo artist now.” She exclaimed excitedly, causing Dustin’s eyes to widen.

“You?” He questioned, causing Nancy to join in and nod in excitement.

“No fucking way!”

“Well, I’m not exactly—”

“Dude, that’s so fucking cool!” Dustin gushed, interrupting you.

“Man, I knew those sketches were too cool to let them go to waste on Eddie’s bedroom walls,” He snorted, but your brows quipped, his bedroom walls? Did he still keep those? 

“You have to tattoo me,” He raved, interrupting your thoughts as you stared at him in disbelief.

“No way, do you want Miss Henderson to kill me?” You huffed, crossing your arms against your chest.

“Oh, come on, just one little favor?” He pouted.

“Nuh-uh! The last time you asked me for a favor, she chided me for months, months!” You emphasized, “She even left me one too many voicemails scolding me!” Dustin sighed.

 “How about something not-too-big? Like the bat one you did for Eddie, it looks so fucking—”

“You talkin’ bout me, Henderson?” A voice rang from the basement, and the slight sound of his footsteps dragging closer and closer toward the two of you caused you to stop dead in your tracks. You always knew Dustin was too loud for his own good.

You gulped, physically, and that lump in your throat reclaimed its place, his voice caused further suffocation in your throat, not being able to breathe when you could recognize that husky tone anywhere.

But it felt different.

Something about him felt different.

Your brain was struggling to comprehend a thought, your mouth had dried up, and it was getting harder to breathe.

“Dude... you could not rock a tattoo like me, no matter how fuckin' hard you—” And there was a pause, a small hitch in Eddie’s breath, as he finally realized who Dustin was talking to. And you could feel that hesitation, that uncomfortable tension filling the room that was once comfortable.

“Pinky?” You could recognize him just by his footstep alone, but now you’re sure it’s him, the nickname still rolling off his tongue so easily and sugary, like you had never left, like everything was okay again.

You’re slow to turn to face him, heart pounding with worry before you fully take him in, trying to decide his facial expressions, waiting for the anger, disappointment, shame, and fury.

You cannot place what his gaze holds, but you have missed the small glimmer in his eyes, the same one he always had when he saw you, so promising, so mellow that you feel your heart tightening.

You take him in now more than ever, his cheekbones are hollow and his face is more defined. He has so much more muscle on him, and it makes you question how long he has been working out.

His hair still lays messily on his forehead, bangs framing his face perfectly. Black jeans paired with a band-tee, and not just any band-tee, a Corroded Coffin shirt that unintentionally has you smiling. His dark brown eyes are mesmerizing as ever, eyelashes fluttering as he tries to accept the sight in front of him. Trying to make sure that he isn’t hallucinating, that you are actually here.

He looks good, so good that you can feel your mouth dry up, words getting stuck in your throat, the guitar pick necklace adorning his neck makes you want to pull him closer toward you.

You study him more than you should; those deep brown eyes are staring at you like a deer in headlights.

When he takes a step closer, gaze still locked to yours, you feel as if your souls have made a bridge, one you weren’t sure if you would be able to mend.

Close. He’s very close, but still, not close enough, not to your liking anyway. You want to be close enough to take him in wholly; you want him to engulf you in his arms, protecting you from all that’s bad in the world, feeling every ounce of him. The one person you had been yearning for was standing a foot away from you, and it was truly painful.

“You came,” Was all that left his plump lips, his gaze was still soft. He was as nervous as you are, something that you didn’t manage to pick up on. 

If only he knew why you had to abandon him, maybe he would understand… Maybe he would even rid you of your guilt.

“Y-yeah, I did,” You stuttered.

“Max, Dustin!” Nancy announced. “Why don’t you two help me in the back?” Nancy threw a look that both of them understood immediately, running off after her without another word exchanged.

The incessant throb in Eddie’s heart returned when his attention turned back to you, he knew you would come, but he didn’t know how much that would crush him.

That rage in him, bubbling up at the surface, subsided quickly when you gave him that gentle look. “What’s Dustin yapping about?” He asked with a chuckle, attempting to lighten the mood and ease his own worries.

“Oh— uhm… just that he wanted me to tattoo him,” You couldn’t help the nervous crack in your voice.

“You? Oh my god, you finally did it?” 

“Well… not exactly.” You gave him an awkward chuckle. “I’m training to be one, though.” You shrugged. 

“You know I’m a happy customer of yours.” He gave you a smile before he flashed his forearm, showing you the bat tattoo that you gave him five years ago.

He had much more tattoos now, but the bat tattoo you gave him still stood out among the thousand others on his forearm, at least it did to you. “Oh!” He breathed, attention diverting to something else as his hands fiddled behind him. He dug them in his back pocket, he struggled to get something it out. “Aha!” He exclaimed, waving the worn out notebook in front of your curious gaze. “But I’m definitely not giving you the ‘Promise’ notebook back!” 

Your pupils dilated at the sight; he still had it. He still had the notebook that your stupid sketches were sprawled all over. You gave it to him sometime during senior year, when he was having some trouble with his songwriting process. Your parents got you that notebook as a joke as soon as they saw the handwritten ‘Promise’ on the front, a silly play on your nickname. And you wanted him to have it; you wanted it to inspire him as much as it did you; your art mattered, and you wanted him to see that, so did his. 

“You… you still have that?” You asked, an astonished look still not leaving your features. “Yeah, it really played a key role on our first album.” He beamed. A crimson red blush was quick to wash over his cheeks; he wasn’t sure if he should’ve told you that or let you in this quickly when you left him on a whim in LA. 

“But… that’s— that’s still so fucking cool, Pinky,” His eyes widened, he shook off his thoughts in a flash. He had missed you, so fucking much—more than he let you on.

“So I’ve been told.” You meant to sound nonchalant. 

“What have you been up to?” You asked as if you didn’t know, as if you didn’t try to gather some information about him from Nancy and Jonathan. As if you didn’t listen to their album the second it came to your record shop.

“Just making some music, here and there.”

It was a lie.

He knew it was a lie, and you knew it was a lie.

Eddie made it big after the last time you saw him, signing onto the biggest record label and releasing an album that became way bigger than even his group had intended to.

“You don’t have to be so humble, I know how big you guys have made it.” You offer him a slight smile.

“Maybe a little bit.” He gestures with his hands, causing you to giggle. “Even had a gig here last week, the crowd was crazy.”

“It’s funny, though.” He murmured, causing you to raise your brows. “All the fuckin’ people at Hawkins who called me a freak and tried to shun me out was screaming my name... pretty weird fuckin’ feeling, huh?” He shrugged.

“I guess I know how the popular princess feels now,” He teased.

You nudged him slightly, “Guess you’re the popular boy of Hawkins now, huh?” He gave you a slight smile, and it felt comfortable, he was so easy to be with.

“Yeah, Jonathan worked really hard to get us for this wedding thing, you know?” He joked, giving a slight smirk.

“You and Jonathan, huh?”

“I don’t even know how you guys became best friends.” You added, wanting to joke.

“Yeah, I guess a lot happens when you don’t abandon people.” Ouch. You guessed you had deserved that one, but it still hurt to see him think of you this way, the entire atmosphere of the room had shifted, the casual conversation you had wasn’t as genuine as you thought it was, and you could see that he was hurt.

You knew he would be angry, but this seeming grudge wasn’t what you were hoping for. Maybe it was selfish of you, but you wanted him to miss you, tell you that he wanted to be with you, engulfing you in his arms as he spun you around, muttering how much he loved you.

But that wasn’t realistic, was it?

You gulped, feeling awkward, and now it was Eddie’s turn to feel bad. He internally cringed as he saw the look on your face, he knew that look so well. The way you played with your hair for some sort of comfort, he could sense that the guilt was eating away at you.

“I— I guess I deserved that.” You forced a smile, chuckling ironically, sensing the visible shift in Eddie’s face, the initial shock of reuniting with you wearing off, and his anger and hurt taking over. 

The tension that lingered in the air was interrupted by Jonathan swinging open the sliding door in the backyard and the four people standing behind him.

Before you could comprehend who they were, a squealing voice caused you to turn around, and a blonde-haired woman brushed past you. “Eds!” She called out, walking toward Eddie.

You looked up to see Jonathan leading Gareth, Jeff, and Frank to the backyard, telling them something about their gig, but you could care less as you stood still in your place, eyes glued on how Eddie greeted the girl, focus shifting solely on her as his hands caressed her shoulders, comforting her, as if you weren’t there, as if he didn’t care.

That screeching voice sounded familiar, but you couldn’t tell who the hell she was supposed to be when all you could see was her back and Eddie’s hands ghosting over her waist.

You were starting to feel small, trapped in your own body, with nowhere to go. Why was she hugging Eddie? Why were they so fucking close?

When she finally turned around, tucking her straight blonde hair behind her ears, glimmering blue eyes met yours, and you immediately realized who it was.

Chrissy.

The same Chrissy that was your supposed friend in high school, the same Chrissy who suddenly turned on you and made your life a living hell in senior year.

That’s why you didn’t recognize her—the strawberry blonde color she had was now more vanilla, and you hated to admit that she looked pretty—too fucking pretty.

Your eyes were narrowed with distaste; you had no right to be jealous, but you were powerless against that ugly emotion when it came to Eddie, swelling your chest way quicker than you intended to and stinging you harder as you struggled to keep a forced smile on your lips. 

Huffing, your mind drifted to Eddie. Surely he wouldn’t want anything to do with her, you decided. He knew some of the horrible things she did to you during your senior year, so there was no fucking way he would want anything to do with her.

Right?

“Oh my god, Pinky!” She squealed once again when she saw you, and you wanted to chuckle bitterly. With your tongue rolling inside your cheek, you tried to keep your damn mouth shut. She didn’t get to call you that nickname. Not when she did all of that during your senior year.

You didn’t return the hug she forced you into, eyes drifting to Eddie who was now avoiding your gaze. Lips pursed shut as he twisted his rings. Something weird was going on, and your stomach churned at the thought.

When Chrissy’s forced embrace on you ended, you barely forced a smile, and with a dead look on your face, you waited for her to disappear.

Why was she even here?

Who even invited her?

Running up to Nancy and asking her what the fuck she was thinking inviting her here would’ve been an exaggeration, you realized.

As envious thoughts sank further and further into your head, you realized something was wrong now. The way Chrissy leaned in to whisper something in Eddie's ear, giggling as she threw her head back.  

It meant something. It was like a sick feeling of deja-vu. A sinking feeling twisted your stomach, and a pang of insecurity gnawed at it. Your jaw clenched involuntarily; Eddie didn't even spare a glance in your direction. His attention was fully on her, and a wave of rage surged within you, threatening to overflow. The need to separate them, to pull her away from him, was almost unbearable.

Still, you knew you couldn’t do anything, and that was what made your blood boil, Eddie was nothing to you, he wasn’t even a friend to you—at least not anymore, something that you made sure of five years ago.

And before you could say or do anything more,

Chrissy smashed her lips against Eddie’s.

[fanfiction4sooya]

Oh that’s fine I completely understand. Could you possibly just write for g!p Mina x reader then

Hi sweetie, sorry for the late reply. But here you go! Hope you like it 💖💖

tw: g!p mina, face slapping, blowjobs, choking, mentions of cheating, unprotected sex, forced creampie, reader is a shit starter, etc;

You spend your whole day fuming, incredibly dumbfounded by the fact that Sana had cheated on you. The so sweet, so loving and caring Minatozaki Sana; Yeah, you weren't heartbroken as you should be, you felt just angrier by the second.

When you told Mina the whole story she immediately offered you a shoulder to lean on and of course, you accepted. Getting angry alone wasn't good for you, since you were a natural shit starter, a disaster seeker. She was friends with both Sana and you, but she was definitely on your side on this one.

"Hi baby" She greeted you, lifting two shopping bags full of booze. "I didn't know what you'd prefer so I bought one each" You hugged her, finally feeling at ease.

You were both sitting down on your living room, half a bottle of whiskey gone, along with a few beer cans. You were sat on the floor wearing only a long shirt and panties. It was Mina, you didn't have to be modest about anything, you were friends after all.

"Enough with my misery" You told her, she was sat on your couch, sipping her drink. "What's going on with you and your girl?" You chugged your beer, making a face.

"She broke up with me" She pouted, swirling her whiskey.

"That bitch!" You slammed your hand on her thigh, making her laugh. "But why though? I thought you two were getting along" She sighed.

"It's embarrassing..." She told you, kind of pouting. She was soft and shy, you loved that about her.

"Myoui Mina" You stared at her eyes. "I literally just told you in detail how my fiance cheated on me... Please" You kneeled, putting your hands together. "Please don't take any entertainment from me" She laughed, shaking her head. After a few seconds getting brave, she spoke again.

"She said I'm too soft" her cheeks got bright pink. 'What a baby girl...'

"Well, anyone that talks to you for like 10 minutes realizes that" You frowned, tilting your head a little. "She doesn't like your personality or...?"

"No, like..." She closed her eyes, trying to speak without sounding like an idiot. "She said I'm too soft in bed"

At first you didn't understand, maybe the booze had an effect on your information processing, but soon you understood what she meant. You laughed a little too loud for her liking, getting her to recoil.

"I shouldn't have told you" She covered her eyes, trying to disappear from the face of the earth. "Asshole!!" her ears were red as you tried hard to catch your breath.

"Okay, sorry, I'm sorry" You stopped laughing, taking a deep breath. "And why is that?" You genuinely asked. "She is like into bdsm and you're not? Because if it is, is totally cool. That life style is not for everyone" She stared into your eyes, realizing you were really serious.

"No, not that" She sat more to the edge of the couch, leaning towards you to speak. "She is not the first one to tell me that..." She scratched her nape. "Apparently I'm really soft with them, even if they ask me to be rough" You nodded.

"But why can't you be a little rough?"

"I'm scared of hurting them" She stated. "Look at my hand, it's big" She showed you her hand and you realized it was, in fact, big. "If she asks me to slap her face I get self conscious and freeze" You shook your head. What a little idiot. "And if she asks me to fuck her hard it's the same thing..." She looks down. "I'm not really small down there, you know?"

You bit your lip, gulping at that thought.

"If she asks you to hit her, it's because she can take it" You tell Mina.

"What if I lose control and do it too hard?" You roll your eyes.

"that's impossible, darling" You say.

"You don't know that" She frowns.

You smile, getting close to her legs and kneeling.

"I'll teach you how to do it, you little idiot" You take her hand and touches your own face with her palm, measuring it. "Here, the tip of your fingers have to touch under the eye, be careful so you won't hit her ear" You softly laughed, her hand warm and soft resting on your cheek. "Since you have big hands it's okay if you hit only with your fingers and not the palm, specially if she has a small face" She nodded. "Hit and stroke, okay?"

"You sure know a lot about that" Her cheeks got pink and you smiled up at her, still on your knees and between her legs.

"Do it, I wanna know if you got it right" You told her and she nodded. She lightly hit and you chuckled. "Mina, come on. Harder" You said.

"You were moving" She pouted and you bit your lip, taking her opposite hand to your neck.

"Hold it like this to the sides, avoid the middle of her neck" You placed her fingers in the right position. You took a deep breath, feeling something warm between your legs. You cleared your throat, trying to focus. "Don't cut her air circulation. Hold my neck and hit again" You told her and she took a deep breath.

She hit it again, but this time it was harder, the perfect amount of pressure on your neck. Without realizing, you whimpered, closing your eyes as her fingers made contact with your cheek. She stroked your face, her eyes getting darker and you were sure yours did the same.

"Again" You breathed out, your hands went to her thighs as reflex.

There was this small pause, this little delay in time as she observed your face, your expression. Her cock was hardening, tight inside her sweatpants as she thought about it for that second. Mina lift her hand striking hard, waking up from her drunken, horny induced haze.

"Oh my-" She tried to take her hand from your neck but you held it there. Your half lided eyes told her everything she needed to know.

You thought about Sana and how she would crumble the moment she knew about it; the drama, the hurt, everything. You were really a shit starter, drama seeker. 'Fuck it'

"let me teach you" You turned your head, kissing her palm. She visibly shivered, her pupils blown out. You squeezed your thighs together, your hand still on her thigh lightly caressing it, going up very close to her bulge.

"But Sana..." She hissed when you touched her over her pants, closing her eyes.

"She is not here" You pulled her in for a wet kiss, your tongue grazing her lips, sucking the bottom one. She whimpered and oh, it sounded so fucking good.

You worked on the knot of her pants as she kissed you, her tongue roaming inside your mouth made you moan, the mix between beer and whisky felt delicious.

Freeing her cock, you felt how heavy it was, the tip red and leaking pre cum. Looking into her eyes you licked it and she hissed, her hand flying to your hair, holding it.

"Shit..." She trembled, slightly bucking her hips into your mouth. It was really big, stuffing your cheeks as you sucked it, drooling all over it and making a mess on her pants.

Mina really didn't really know what to do, but that wasn't a problem. Not for you that liked to teach, after all. You lifted your face, kissing her again, moaning into her mouth as you jerked her off, the tips of your fingers didn't touch as you did so.

"You are so thick..." You moaned as she closed her eyes. "Don't be shy, pull my hair harder baby" And she immediately did as you told her, bravely spitting into your mouth, roughly kissing your lips. "Yes, don't hold back" You told her between kisses. "use me Mina, fuck me as hard as you can"

That seemingly had the effect you wanted as she pulled you up forcefully to straddle her on the couch, harshly biting your neck. You humped her hard cock and she tightened the grip on your arms, closing her eyes.

"Are you sure?" She asked, gulping.

"Don't hold back" You mouthed every word and she rolled her eyes, ripping your panties from your body. "Fuck" You yelped when she got up, bending your body down to the couch and spreading your legs.

That animalistic side of Mina was hot, completely different from the sweet Minari you knew. She spat onto your pussy, lining her cock onto your slit. You laughed provocatively and she slapped your ass hard, surprising you.

"You are such a pussy, Minari..." You felt her get unsure behind you so you had to provoke, wiggling your butt in front of her. "No wonder she broke up with you..."You tried to lift your face from the couch, but she pushed you down with one hand, pulling your hips flush against hers, fully entering you.

You both moaned, that raw feeling felt too much. She didn't wait for any adjustment, already fucking your hole and fully stretching you to her big cock.

"There you go..." She grunted hitting hard, her balls slapping against your clit made you mewl. It was hard and good, yes, but she could do better.

"Harder, baby..." You started back shotting, your hips meeting hers. She sank her fingernails on your hips, holding hard as she fucked harder, her hips losing a little bit of rhythm.

Now it felt good, her cock fully stretching you, your pussy raw and puffy from all the force. She rolled her eyes, shivering. Suddenly you stopped, pushing her off of you, changing your positions. Getting on your back on the couch you pulled her between your legs, sinking her cock back into your pussy; her eyes glued to where you were connected.

"Damn, you look so pretty" Mina said, her mouth agape.

You grabbed her hand, putting back on your neck like before.

"Do it, baby" You told her, shaking. So wet it trickled down to her balls, coating her dick as well.

She chocked you, slapping your face. Damn she was good at that.

"Tight..." She rolled her eyes, fucking you so hard you lost your breath. When she opened them, they were dark and cloudy, focused on not coming inside.

"Mina" You called, screaming. "I'm coming, fuck baby, keep doing that" You cooed, shaking. "f-finish inside baby, please"

She finally lost the mean demeanor, going back to the shy baby girl she was, her cheeks pink and her eyes doe and teary, still fucking you hard.

"Oh gosh" Was all she managed to say, still slapping her hips against your spread legs, cumming inside then all over your pussy when she tried to pull out. You held her in, trapping your legs behind her back as she groaned with her eyes closed, falling onto your body, blindly kissing your neck.

You couldn't believe you did that, nor that anyone would ever call Mina soft again after this class.

Of course she still had lessons to take but hey, you'd gladly teach her anything she wanted to know. You were her friend, after all.

[tojivu]

# SOBER UP ‣ MEGUMI FUSHIGURO

✰ — author’s note should this be considered a shtpost LOL

✰ — playing mad riches by sonder .

✰ — cw / tags mentions of alcohol , comfort and fluff , f!reader , college au , ex boyfriend + situationship megumi , idk if i made him seem like a red flag here but idc… #megumiapologist

✰ — word count 1.7k

MEGUMI , who tags along when his friends go drinking at a bar nearby your campus and has an alcohol tolerance higher than everyone in the room, combined.

this man does not play when it comes to drinking games. honestly, he would not be interested in playing at all if not for yuji egging him on—any chance to prove himself will not go wasted, especially when it’s his own best friend doubting his ability.

you’re playing along, after yuji had pestered your friends to join in—you took one for the team and decided to go with it. truth or drink: two options, it would be an easy feat. just pick truth every time.

everyone is gathered around the large table at the centre of the establishment, glasses in hand. megumi is across from you, blank expression worn—he doesn’t seem to be enjoying the occasion, but he's partaking anyway. his arms are crossed, eyes locked on the surface of the table. you had hoped to speak to him tonight, but it seemed like you wouldn't be able to.

you’re swirling your glass around, generating a whirlpool in your drink—waiting for yuji to move on from asking nonsensical questions and to let the night get more exciting. he seems to be the life of the party, people often picking him to answer their queries: it’s a horrible time to be popular, because he soon excuses himself after a few glasses.

it’s that way with everyone in the group, with every popular student getting picked in order—eventually, it’s just you, megumi, and 3 other people.

“y/n.” an unfamiliar voice calls your name, one belonging to a boy you’ve never seen before. “truth or drink?”

“truth.” you respond, wanting to last as long as possible: not taking a sip until it was absolutely necessary. your apartment was quite a long way from where you were: a long cab ride with an intoxicated system didn’t sound appealing at all. you hoped it wouldn’t be too scandalous of a question, after all, not many people knew you personally—so they didn’t have much to ask.

“anyone here. . . you don’t mind going on a date with?”

that was a stupid question. your college was full of teenage-minded boys who didn't think twice before doing anything. nobody was serious enough for your taste, and regretfully so: you're unable to answer the question and you take a shot.

MEGUMI , who glares at you, despondently, from athwart the table because you didn't answer the question with his name. he exhales, eyebrows furrowing and the grip on his cup tightening. it was unfair of him to expect a response with his name—after what had happened.

fushiguro and you were a complicated pair. many have heard of you two and yet knew so little: you've dated him in the past and things were on and off since then. yet, people pretend they don't see you slipping out of his dorm as soon as the sun rises, and that they don't see him staring daggers into any man that speaks to you.

sure, you two would have your flings—each time swearing it was the last. you knew it wasn’t right, but if nobody uttered any ‘i love you’s, what was the real harm?

just a week ago, an argument ensued between the two of you. he was yelling about how he had too many classes and couldn't see you, and you were saying how he should've tried anyway.

he reminded you that night that you two weren't together anymore, and off you went; out his door and no calls returned.

megumi knew you were angry when you didn't bother scolding him via text, as you usually would, but he knew you were livid when you didn't bother thinking of your answer—instead chugging your glass.

your giggles get louder, and your head dizzier. you're holding onto the chair behind you, and megumi is pissed off with the way your friends are more concerned with taking pictures than looking out for you.

the circle remains, with the same boy picking you to answer his inappropriate questions regarding your love life. megumi is concerned with how much alcohol is entering your system. he's standing up straight now, worried that you'll black out any moment—he knew better than anyone that you couldn't hold your liquor. he can't help but blame the guy picking on you; you seemed to be stuttering and yet he didn't stop.

"you know what," he walks around the table and grabs the empty cup from your hands. "this is dangerous. you can't handle liquor."

you're stumbling over your own feet as you try to retrieve your cup from megumi, who's raising it over his head and out of your reach.

"'gumi . . ."

your words are slurred and your face is flushed red. your hands try to reach up, but come down to his chest as you almost fall on top of him. megumi is concerned, but his face shows annoyance; he places the cup down and slithers his arm around your waist to support you.

it's been a long while since you called him that, or any nickname at all. something stirs in his chest, it was something about his nickname leaving your lips—he can't help but stare at them, so that's precisely what he does.

"i'm taking you home."

you whine, but your uncoordinated self is unable to fight the strong arms that pull you out of the bar, away from the crowd and onto the pavement outside.

you're hitting megumi's chest while babbling nonstop about how much of a party pooper he is. the look on his face appears nonchalant—your ex couldn't care less about ruining the fun. he cared about you, and the least he could do was make sure you got home safe.

"you're always like this, 'gumi . . ." you hit his chest again, your head buried in the crook of his neck. your breath against his skin tickles, shuddering when you say his name. "always . . . ruining the fun."

megumi's attempts at hailing a cab render useless, and public transport had their last journey an hour ago. you complain about your heels to him, with a pout that makes him weak in the knees.

"your shoes . . . so comfy."

he swears under his breath because no other girl could embarass him like this. megumi walks with you, your gleaming heels in his hands and his socks getting torn by the harsh asphalt. he hates being barefoot—but you're treading the path happily, wearing his sneakers—so he thinks it's bearable, just for a short while.

MEGUMI , who takes you to a convenience store close by and buys you two bottles of water, hoping you could sober up a little.

it's 2 in the morning and you're sitting on a bench outside of a 7-11 with your ex boyfriend, who you can't help but stare at. he looks unusually handsome, you think, just a little bit more than usual. you feel like your first year self pining over him all over again, but this time, he's much closer.

you remember the fight a week ago and you're brought back to reality of what it was. megumi hit you cold and hard with the truth, and you find yourself shifting your gaze to the empty bottle of water at your feet.

you hear megumi's breath hitch a few times, almost as if he was meaning to say something—but you didn't know if you would want to hear it, after everything that had unfolded between you two.

"just say it, megumi." you blurt out, thinking there was no point in keeping things unsaid. you were annoyed with the way he would turn back and forth between you and the road.

he's not certain if he's glad to hear you say his full name, at least you're sober—but he hates the fact that you don't say megumi like you say gumi.

"i still love you, y/n." megumi mumbles.

you look at him, your eyes immediately noticing his staring at you before you even turned your head. you get up from the bench, unable to make sense of what he just said: apologies quickly leave your mouth and you're power walking away.

MEGUMI , who trails behind you, asking you to wait—he had your heels, and those were his shoes on your feet.

nothing changes until you arrive at your front door. you're completely sober thanks to the water megumi forced you to chug, and he’s behind you. you turn from the door to face him, and your stubbornness is suddenly dissipating.

your heels are still in his hands and his socks are completely torn.

"yeah, this is your fault."

you roll your eyes. "i did nothing."

megumi scoffs, looking down at the floor. he's not sure what to say to make this any less awkward—he's already spoken his mind.

"just come in, 'gumi. i've had enough of your complaining."

his eyes light up when you say the two syllable word. he takes his socks off in milliseconds, leaving your heels outside and letting himself be pulled by the sleeve into your apartment.

MEGUMI , who wakes up in your bed with his arm around the small of your back, keeping you close to him—sunlight is spilling in through the gaps of your curtains. it’s shining on his chest and subsequently, you: your head is laid on his bare chest, your legs resting on top of his. your breath is warm against his skin, your left arm hugging him tight around the waist.

your breathing is calm and slow, but it comes to a brief stop when you wake up soon after him. you yawn, head throbbing, but it doesn't stop you from looking up at fushiguro—who's been staring at you for awhile.

"we might as well just get back together."

megumi thought you were kidding, after you had just run away from him after his confession the night before: but you were everything but a joker.

he runs his fingers through your hair, before sighing softly.

"that's not a bad idea."

his fingers playing with your hair was lulling you back to sleep, along with the warmth of skin to skin contact and a voice that seemed as smooth as velvet. there wasn't much time before your headache and him combined knocked you out.

". . . i love you, 'gumi.” is all you manage to say before closing your eyes, allowing fushiguro to savour the words in private as you slept soundly.

he was thankful that you were exhausted—the red on his cheeks was much too embarrassing to be seen.

201023 — hello … new layout what do u guys think ? (　ﾟдﾟ)