#buddy i think you should probably blink again at some point here

[stevieschrodinger]

Part One Eleven

Steve watches as Eddie positions himself at the breakfast bar. He easily swings up the end of his tail, the final couple of feet laid out on the chopping board.

He slices a thick piece, turning it and cutting it into neat chunks. It looks like raw steak inside. He cuts a thicker slice, making more chunks, then he does it again.

Next to him, Robin picks up the chunks and slides them onto metal skewers, “thanks Eddie, these will go great on the grill.”

“Yeah, well, we need to get rid of it at some point, might as well use it up now-”

Steve wakes up choking. He doesn’t make a noise, or at least, he doesn’t think he has. He just lies there, heart beating frantically, eyes wet, telling himself again and again, just a dream, just a dream, just a dream.

Steve lies there, waiting for his heart to calm and his breathing to even out, the sweaty flush on his skin slowly cools. He really needs to go back to sleep, but he knows already that he probably won’t be able to settle.

He wants to talk to Eddie. Wants to see him. Doesn’t think he’ll be able to go back to sleep without reassuring himself that Eddie actually is okay which – okay, that’s a bit ridiculous, but he just...needs to. For his own sanity.

Steve blinks gritty eyes at the clock, nearly half three in the morning. His parents are down the hall in their room, and Eddie is at Hopper’s cabin, hopefully asleep on the couch, and there’s not much Steve can do about that.

He lies there, staring at the ceiling in the dark, willing himself to relax. The more he tries, the less likely it becomes, until it hits him; the walkie.

He rolls out of bed, and feeling a little bad for waking Eddie up, makes sure it’s on their channel and the volume is down low before holding down the trigger to speak, “Eddie?”

Nothing. Silence. God Steve is an absolute shit for doing this, and he hopes it’s not so loud that he wakes Hopper or El. He resolves to try one more, if this doesn’t work he will just have to make himself leave it alone and go back to bed, “Eddie?”

There’s a few seconds of silence this time, before a quiet crackle of static, “Stee?”

“Sorry to wake you up buddy, are you okay?”

“Eddidie fine. Pear and grape for din-ner. El Eddidie dance. Mus-ic. Movie on TV. Clean teeth. Couch sleep. Blanket. Stee good?”

“That’s...really good Buddy. Yeah, I’m fine, just had a bad dream,” Steve wants to ask about the dancing and the music and what the movie was and everything else Eddie has been up to today, but it’s the middle of the night, and it would be selfish to keep Eddie talking, “you should sleep.”

“Stee bad dream tell Eddidie? Dark TV tell?”

Steve thinks for a second, “I dreamed you got hurt. Eddie ow. Many ow, really bad. I was...scared.”

There’s a few seconds silence before Eddie replies, “Eddidie no ow.”

“No, I know buddy, but thank you for telling me, we should get some sleep. Night.”

“Stee perfect.”

“Yeah, love you too.”

Steve’s been lying in bed for a full minute before he realizes what he’s just said. It doesn’t really matter; Eddie doesn’t know what it means.

Stupid brunch. Stupid brunch that stopped Steve visiting Eddie before work. Stupid parents. Stupid Keith and his stupid duty rosta so stupid Robin is at stupid work and she couldn’t come to stupid brunch. His parents are so much nicer when she’s there; something to do with keeping up appearances in front of strangers or whatever, Steve knows why they do it. It’s not because they actually like Robin or anything. Steve's pretty sure his parents don;t actually like anyone, not even each other.

Steve sits in his car and sighs. Watches as the door cracks open and the light spills out. Eddie sitting there in his blue sweater. As Steve watches, he lifts his hand and gives a little wave. Steve shouldn’t be visiting this late really, but he couldn’t miss a day. It’s not fair on Eddie, for one thing, being left here like this, when he doesn’t really understand why.

Steve gets out of the car and jogs over to the house, Eddie letting him in. El’s not there, Steve figures she’s already in bed. Hopper’s putting dishes in the kitchen when Steve comes in, “sorry I’m so late Hop.”

Hopper shrugs, “doesn’t matter. I’m going to bed anyway, Eddie, get the lights and lock up before sleep, okay?”

Eddie nods, “make dark. Key lock make safe.”

“You got it. Night kids.”

“Night Hop.”

“Night Hopper.”

Steve throws himself down on the couch; today has just sucked all the way through, Eddie climbs up next to Steve, muttering, “Eddidie not kid,” under his breath.

Steve snorts a laugh, Eddie clearly does not want to be lumped into the same category as the, ‘mongrels,’ “if you’re not a kid, what are you?”

Eddie thinks for a second, the points past Steve, “book please,” Steve hands it over, leaning close to watch Eddie as he thumbs his way with fair accuracy to the page he wants; Steve really should get him some more books. He’s also got to thank El for working on Eddie’s manners.

It’s the frog page again.

Eddie points to the ‘froglet’, “Eddidie.”

“So...like a teenager?” Steve hazards vaguely. Steve figured Eddie is the same age as him, more or less, just because the human parts look the same and are roughly the same size; it’s not really anything to go on though. Steve points, “when do you grow into a frog?”

“Later.”

“What?”

Eddie nods, “later.”

“Eddie...are you going to get legs?” Steve has to be sure. Has to understand what Eddie is saying.

“Legs?”

Steve lifts his feet off the floor, waving his legs up and down a little, trying not to get too excited before he's sure, pointing, “legs.”

“Yes. Eddidie legs later.”

All of the worry Steve's been harboring about what to do with Eddie just...lifts. He knows Eddie couldn't live with him, hidden away, forever...but the thought of releasing Eddie somewhere. Leaving him alone, worrying about what would happen if people found him. Never seeing him again, all of it was tearing at Steve inside, a burden he didn't know how to answer, “Eddie! Why didn’t you tell me! This is awesome-”

“Legs bad.”

“What…why?”

Eddie closes the book, looking sad again, he takes Steve’s hand, “called?”

“That’s my hand buddy...and those parts are fingers,” Steve lets Eddie link their fingers together, the webbing preventing them locking together fully, “Eddie, why are legs bad?”

Eddie shuffles closer, turning his body into Steve’s, “called?” Eddie uses his free hand to point to Steve’s eyes.

“Eyes, buddy,” Eddie’s finger makes contact as he shifts in the seat to lean ever closer, tail pressed tight to Steve’s thigh, he traces Steve’s brow, “eye brows.” Eddie’s finger, his black, rounded claw traces along Steve’s nose, “nose.” Steve can’t move, doesn’t feel like he can breathe really as he waits for what comes next. Eddie’s fingertip traces Steve’s bottom lip, ever so gently he touches, leaving a tingling on Steve's skin, “lips. Lips and...mouth.”

Eddie nods, satisfied, taking his hand away, and Steve can finally take another breath, even with the distraction of Eddie's touch, he can’t avoid the sense of mounting horror, “Eddie, why are legs bad?”

Eddie has to drop Steve’s hand to bring both up to his face, he gets as far as pressing his palms to his cheeks before Steve grabs his wrists, dragging his hands away from his face, “no,” Steve says, horrified, “no, that’s not what happens. You’re wrong, that can’t be what happens.”

Eddie nods, sad but sure.

“No. Eddie no, that’s not- I won’t let you,” and Steve knows as he says it he has no fucking control over this whatsoever.

Eddie takes Steve hand again, pushes it against the back of his head. Steve’s fingers worm their way in, feeling that familiar starburst of ridges. They’re familiar as the rest of Eddie now, Steve’s been washing Eddie’s hair pretty much every other day for weeks and weeks now. Steve fingers find the place where they meet in the middle, right at the back of Eddie’s head, “mouth.”

Steve fights the instinct to pull his hand away in horror. He forces himself to keep it there; it won’t hurt him, Steve can feel the ridges of Eddie’s fucking skull, hard and unforgiving under his skin and hair. That can’t be right, it just doesn’t make any sense but...Steve can imagine it, the petals of a Demogorgon’s mouth unfolding.

“Stee?”

Steve’s voice breaks when he speaks, and he can feel the first tear break free, rolling down his cheek, “yeah buddy?”

“El tell Eddidie...Stee tell Eddidie I love you. El tell Eddidie love...Eddidie love Stee too. Stee perfect.”

“Oh buddy," Steve's voice cracks, "...yeah. Yeah, I love you too,” Eddie wipes away Steve’s tears with his knuckle, licking the water off his finger. Eddie half climbs and Steve half pulls Eddie into his lap. They hold each other tight, Eddie gently nuzzling his face back and forth against Steve's cheek, against his neck, breathing in Steve's hair and skin.

Steve does the same to Eddie, hands tight on Eddie's tail, on his back, in his hair, wherever he can reach to touch, committing Eddie to memory.

Steve doesn’t go home, he can’t. He just sleeps, fully clothed, on the couch, pulling Eddie down on top of him, and holding him close.

Steve and El sit on the stoop, all bundled up. Steve’s got a coffee and El’s got a hot chocolate. They watch as Eddie moves along the tree line; he’s collecting pine cones and burying them. Planting seeds. He uses his hard, blunt claws to dig; the earth is maybe a little harder because of the cold, but it doesn’t seem to bother or hinder Eddie at all.

It feels precious now, watching Eddie. It feels like the time he has with him is suddenly short; that he needs to make the most of every single second. Steve tries to absorb all of it, the way Eddie moves. The look on his face as he examines his finds, his fingers, the dark nails. The way the light is absorbed by the dark matte black of his tail. The way his hair gets blown around in the fresh breeze, shining a little in the light, thanks to Steve’s hair care regimen.

How he smiles at Steve when he catches him watching.

Steve tries not to think about last night; it’s too much to absorb. Too strange; surely Eddie cannot be right. But then Steve reminds himself of where Eddie came from, and the fact that the girl he’s sitting next too can move shit with her mind, and figures he has to adjust his expectations around what could be normal.

“He does this a lot,” El says.

“Huh, maybe he does this back home too; always wondered what he gets up to when I’m not there.”

“He does,” El says with certainty.

“Oh have you...have you looked. Inside his head?”

“Only a little. Just to check if he’s alright and...when he’s struggling to find the words.”

“Oh. Yeah. Is it...is it very different?”

“Yes.” El seems to think for a moment, “he thinks in...pictures. People think in words a lot. And he pretty much only thinks about now. People think about a lot of things at once, the past, the future. Eddie doesn’t do that, there’s mostly only now.”

“Huh...I guess that...makes sense.”

Eddie comes back to the foot of the steps, brushing loose things from the woods off the sweater of the day, “Hopper now,” he informs them.

“Oh yeah Buddy? Can you hear his car?” Steve touches his ear.

“Hopper car yes, Eddidie hear. Hopper inied work.”

Steve can’t help but smile, even though it feels like he wants so cry at the same time, “what is Hopper’s job, do you know?”

Eddie nods, “Hopper Hawkins Indiana safe.”

“Yeah buddy, that’s exactly right.”

Part Thirteen

[seiwas]

₊˚⊹｡ big gym energy (is this my fantasy?) | fushiguro toji

wc: 2.0k

summary: who would have thought the rippest DILF in all of Japan would get you to go to the gym everyday?

contains: gn!reader, non-curse au, college au, appearance of itafushikugi (mostly nobara), reader has a huge and lowkey delusional crush on toji, age gap

a/n: the gym toji fic! tone in this is a bit different from what i write, and it's lowkey a crack fic but i hope it's still enjoyable! listened to: big energy - latto & area codes - kaliii

part of the in's and out's new year/birthday event | request prompt: going to the gym for yourself (and totally not for that cute guy who sometimes says hi)

“You’re going to the gym?” Nobara halts smack in the middle of the busy hallway. Groans huff behind her, the rest of your class filing out of the lecture hall. You bow your head apologetically as you pull her to the side. 

“Yes.” 

She squints, skeptical, “You.” 

You nod.

“The gym.” she says it slower this time, tilting her head down. 

You nod again. 

Nobara blinks, shifting her weight as she reaches one hand inside the pocket of her overalls. There’s a long pause, rushed footsteps amplifying the suspense, then—

“Okay, what’s the bet? How much did Maki put out? I want in.” 

You roll your eyes, shaking your head as you loop your arm around hers and continue walking. 

There’s good reason for her to doubt you; she knows you best after all. In your little quad, you are the least likely to be found doing any physical activity or sport whatsoever—and that’s saying a lot, considering the other fourth of your group is Megumi. But at least he walks his dogs regularly. 

“Rude,” you scoff jokingly, “there’s no bet, just testing it out because they have a free trial promo.”

It shouldn’t hurt to check it out, you think. One of your resolutions this year is to finally get started on your fitness journey, whatever form it may be. 

“You should come.” 

Nobara snorts, “Wrong person,” you both turn at a corner, “ask Itadori.”

The gym is just a few blocks away from your campus, a good 18-minute walk if you’re counting—which is also part of what makes it so appealing. The ad you’d seen for the free trial is an early bird promo to attract new customers for the gym’s new branch launch. 

And it does make the most sense to ask him; he is the sports science major after all—

“No way,” you step out on the sidewalk, “telling him is practically committing to a membership.” 

—but Yuuji is a bit too eager when it comes to things like this. No doubt he’ll be at your heel, wagging his figurative golden retriever tail at the prospect of being your certified gym buddy. It’s endearing and you know he means well, but that’s way too much pressure for someone who’s just starting out. 

She laughs, readjusting her bag, “He’d know how to use the machines though.” 

“I watched some videos…” you mumble, because Nobara has a point, but if you’re being honest, you feel just a teensy bit embarrassed at the idea of anyone else knowing about your attempts at fitness this early on, lest it fail in the end. “I can probably ask someone there…” 

“Try the most jacked up person in the gym.” 

You shove her jokingly, her laughter echoing down the road. 

. 

The first person you meet at the gym is the lady at the front desk. Her ponytail sways as she greets you, a chirpy smile welcoming you in as she holds an iPad to her chest while touring you around—at the center, the main floor plan is decked out with machines; towards the back sit the squat racks, and to your sides are the private cycling rooms and multifunctional spaces. According to her, they also offer yoga classes every 6:00 p.m. on Wednesdays. 

You’d expected a lot more people to be in here at 7:00 p.m., but you suppose it makes sense others would prefer to spend their Friday nights elsewhere. 

Looking around, you spot a middle-aged lady you swear is Megumi’s English professor; on the treadmills, a couple your age share a laugh as they try to match pace. There are some machines you’ve never even seen in your life, Youtube videos included.

You take a deep breath. You can ask for help. 

After all, the crowd feels friendly enough, not too intimidating—

—until your eyes land on him, on the benches; an absolute tank of a man doing chest presses with what you think are probably the heaviest dumbbells on the rack. 

You try not to stare, catching only a glimpse of the way his biceps flex against the tight sleeves of his black compression shirt. 

Don’t be a creep, you tell yourself, walking towards the leg press machine. You may be new here, but you’ve learned that gym etiquette isn’t so far off from acting like a civilized human being. 

Thank god you never take Nobara seriously, because you can’t even imagine the stuttering mess you’d be if you had to ask him how to work any of these god forsaken machines. 

.

It’s a good thing, then, that help comes to you without you having to say a word. 

This is number four out of five sessions in your free trial promo, and you have no idea how to get the goddamn plates out of the barbell. You pull some out from the other side and the whole barbell comes along with it. When you attempt the other side, it does the same. Then when you finally do manage to get off the plates on one side, the whole barbell drops, clanging loudly against the metal foot of the squat rack set-up. 

(Now that you think about it, maybe it isn’t such a good thing that you’ve been offered help instead of you asking. There must be a reason someone thinks you could need it.)

Someone, who is also the last person you could ever possibly want to embarrass yourself in front of.

Someone, who just so happens to be the jacked up tank of a man you’ve admittedly glanced at a few times in your past few visits here. 

“To make it easier,” he crouches beside you, laying down a smaller plate and rolling the larger ones on the barbell over it. 

He unloads them like they weigh nothing—and with his physique, it isn’t hard to believe that they probably do. His biceps look to be the size of your head, chest popping out in ways you’ve only seen on those Tiktok thirst edits; his one hand is larger than a 2.5 kilogram plate, and his forearms look like they could ch—

Mind out of the gutter, you blink away, focusing instead on the metal bar in front of you. 

God, you don’t even know this man’s name. 

“T-thanks.” you stutter, embarrassed. 

He gives you a half-smile, lips turned on one side, “Sure.” then he walks away, the tightness of his black compression shirt hugging the ridges of his back muscles. 

You gulp. 

So begins your year-long gym membership.

(And maybe, just maybe, the kind-of-meet-cute of a lifetime. Who knows, really?) 

.

“Who would have thought the rippest DILF in all of Japan would get you to go to the gym everyday,” she snorts, fingers grazing over the curved edges of the heart-shaped watermelons in the fruit aisle.

You hush her, scanning the area around you for anyone who might have overhead. 

It’s 11:00 p.m. on a Thursday, so you doubt it, but you can never be too sure.

“He’s nice, you know.” you pout. 

“Yeah, what’s his name?” Nobara gives you a look. 

You glare, touché. 

Maybe you don’t know his name. Yet. 

But he’s always offered to stack on the heavy plates for you, and will oftentimes help in unloading them too. There are times when you aren’t quite sure how to work the machines and he swoops in like the gym buff version of prince charming, teaching you proper form just so you don’t get injured. He’ll wipe down a mat for you to use some days, because—

“Stretching is important,” he never fails to mention.

He’s nice. 

And you have an insanely delusional crush on him, but you don’t care, because why else would he be giving you this much attention if he wasn’t interested in you too? 

.

You find out many things about your gym crush, most of them completely unexpected. 

One: his hair is unusually soft for someone who looks so rough. Or, well, you think it looks soft, you can’t tell for sure; you haven’t actually touched it to be able to tell. The black mop on his head falls flat over his eyes on the few days you assume are right before his next scheduled haircut. It surprises you even more when he walks in the gym with a small hair tie holding his bangs up. 

Two: he does a considerable amount of bodyweight exercises for someone his size—Calisthenics, specifically. 

You watch him pull himself up the bar, biceps and back straining against the movement. The muscles ripple across the fabric of his tee, and it’s impressive how smoothly he’s able to go up and down; as if he isn’t exerting any effort at all. Then, the push-ups and dips. He can do them all, in every variation you never even thought existed, and it’s always done with so much ease. 

It gives you reason to believe that he could be gentle, controlled. In what? Well. You know. 

Three: he likes fruity things. You expected his go-to to be straight black, maybe a chocolate protein shake on other days too. But he shows up one day with a smoothie in the shade of vibrant magenta. Dragonfruit, you assume, from all the black specks floating in it. 

This also happens to be the first time you initiate the conversation with him.  

“Your smoothie looks good,” you mumble, a little hesitant. 

God, so awkward. 

He looks up from adjusting the plate stoppers on your bar. 

A hum rumbles from his throat before he flashes you the same half-smile he always does, “Strawberry, banana, and dragonfruit.” 

You don’t really know what to say after that other than, “Cool.” 

And you mentally facepalm yourself. 

. 

In your fourth month at the gym, you learn a few more unexpected things that change everything. 

You’ve just finished freshening up and you’re on the way out when you bump into— 

“Megumi?” 

He looks up from his phone, dark strands hitting the tips of his eyelashes as he pushes back one side of his headphones. He raises an eyebrow, confused and surprised.  

“You gym?” 

“What’re you doing here?” 

Pink dusts his cheeks as he ducks his head, motioning for you to go first. 

“Sorry,” you chuckle, adjusting the strap of your duffel bag, “I started going here a few months ago. You?” 

He looks a little surprised by it, probably more so at the fact that you’ve kept it a secret from him for so long, but he nods, “That’s good. You did mention wanting to work on your fitness more this year.” then, he shifts, adjusting his weight before hanging his headphones by his neck. 

“I’m waiting for my dad.” 

In the past few years you’ve known Megumi, he’s never mentioned his dad. You never bothered to ask because you suspected there was a good reason he never talked about him in the first place. 

And so comes number four, and maybe the last unexpected thing you find out about your gym crush— 

“Megumi!” 

You both turn around to the voice of none other than Nobara’s proclaimed rippest DILF in Japan; the most jacked up tank of a man who also happens to be the man you’ve crushed hard on for the past four months.  

Everything is snapping into place, information forming bridges you would rather not cross right now. 

He walks up to Megumi, duffel bag slung across his chest as he reaches for your friend.

Megumi looks like he wants to wither away, embarrassed at you seeing him tucked under his dad’s arm. But all your brain can really comprehend is that Megumi, your good friend, is currently squished between the bicep and chest you’ve been staring at since your first day at the gym.

You hold your breath, the realization creeping to the forefront of your mind. There had been signs that your gym crush was a dad; apart from being built like one, he’d offhandedly mention ‘son’ a few times. You didn’t think it would be—

“Oh, you two know each other?” your gym crush tilts his head, turning to you, “you didn’t tell me your friend signed up for this gym, Megumi.” 

“I didn’t know,” Megumi grumbles, and the look on his face can rival yours, for sure. Tough competition on ‘who looks like they want to die the most right now?’. 

But he can’t win. 

Because when Megumi begrudgingly introduces your gym crush to you as his dad, you’re pretty sure you’ve buried yourself twelve feet underground. 

(It doesn’t ease the embarrassment when you learn unexpected thing number five: he’s been a trainer at the gym this entire time.)

thank you notes: to @twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat for encouraging me all the way!! ily ari

comments, tags, and reblogs are greatly appreciated ♡

[666anxiety666]

sup dude, saw your post and i saw you‘re also in the roblox pressure fandom

how abouuuuuut you maybe write a (platonic!!!!) tickle fic between Sebastian and reader?

y‘know the flash bang gun? or maybe when you keep going back and forth through his shop, he gets mad? yeah, maybe write about the reader just annoying him too much

or headcanons about Sebastian

up to ya!

YES! I JUST ADDED THAT TO MY LIST! 💙 I'll also probably do headcanons at some point! 🙏

Don't. Do that. Again.

Sebastian x gender neutral reader

LEE: Y/n LER: Sebastian

Warnings: none :)

♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎

You jumped into the locker quickly, just seconds before angler pasted you. You sigh shakily, quickly jump out of the locker. Already feeling the panic of being inside for too long, starting to set in.

You stumbled along the rest of the room, opening the door to room 50. You didn't even bother to check the drawers as you walked. Determined as ever to get this nightmare of a trip over and done with.

Suddenly, a vent bursts open. You jumped back, ready to defend yourself if needed.

"Psst! In here!"

A voice is heard coming from inside. You sighed. You know the drill by now. You crawl inside, only to be met by the one and only Sebastian.

"Ah! The one who can't seem to keep their coffin shut, huh?"

Sebastian said in an almost mocking tone. You roll your eyes. Already looking around the shop for supplies. You had barely picked up anything from the last 50 rooms. Only having a code breacher and a shitty and crank flashlight on your person.

"Jeez Y/n, you look rough."

Sebastian said mockingly. But he was right. You looked down at the contents on Sebastian's tail, instantly grabbing the medkit.

"I didn't think you'd be this bad still. I mean, you've died what? 40 times now?"

Sebastian commented with a grin. You looked up at him. Rolling your eyes once again as you feel the medkit started to take effect. You were already getting sick of him. It would take a while for you to be somewhat okay to head back out there. That means being stuck in here with *him* while you waited. great.

You sat down on a box, kicking your legs absentmindedly as you looked at the floor. Sebastian didn't say anything else, much to your relief. He just sighed, going through files and data.

You sighed as well, already bored as hell. You look around the shop. Glancing at the raido, the batteries on the table. But then, you spot a flash beacon on a shelf. Despite doing this over and over, you never really picked up one of these on any runs.

You fiddled around with it. Examining it from top to bottom. It still had batteries in it. You sighed again. just as you thought. It was useless. You were about to place it back on the shelve. When you dropped it. The flash beacon fell to the floor, landing in its side facing Sebastian, and it went off.

The room lit up. Sebastian's eyes widened before he quickly covered them, dropping the files he was looking at. You felt your heart drop right to your stomach.

Sebastian uncovered his eyes. Growling as he reached out and grabbed you. His massive hand wrapped right around you, trapping your arms at your sides. Your breathing started getting heavier as Sebastian leaned in closer with a growl.

"Don't. Do that. Again."

Sebastian snarled. You squeezed your eyes shut. Expecting to be thrown to the floor or even killed. It was an accident. You didn't mean for the beacon to go off! You waited, and waited, but nothing came. You slowly but hesitantly opened your eyes. You were still trapped in Sebastian's grip. But now Sebastian was chuckling.

"Jeez, you should have seen your face!"

He cackled. You blinked a few times. Still a little shaken up. Sebastian looked back down at you, still keeping you in his grasp.

"Oh, come on, buddy. *Lighten* up a little...~"

Sebastian teased. That was definitely meant to be a pun. Sebastian squeezed you lightly as he spoke. However, one of his claws dug into your side as he did so.

You jumped slightly. Your breath hitching as you let out a small noise, almost like a squeak. Trying to hold back any laughter that bubbled in your throat.

Sebastian paused for a moment. He blinked, a little worry seeping in, thinking that he had hurt You. But when he saw the look on your face. He grinned. Oh no...

"Oh... I see now..."

Sebastian chuckled, showing off his sharp teeth. He didn't even give you time to react or process before he reached out with his other clawed hand. Instantly digging into your side.

You sqeaked. Wriggling in his grasp as you giggled. Sebastian grinned his clawed hand, squeezing and raking up and down your side.

"What? Do you think I can let you go after flashing that thing at me like that? Not a chance, buddy~"

Sebastian grinned. You could already feel the heat rising to your cheeks. But you could deal with this. It's not like it could get any worse-

Sebastian moved his clawed hand to your tummy, raking his claws along it. You squealed louder, now kicking your legs desperately. It got so much worse!

"Jeez, you're so squirmy..."

Sebastian chuckled. He reached his third hand out. Squeezing just above your knee. Your squeals and giggles only got more high-pitched as it felt like little tickly electric shocks ran through your body.

"So squeaky too... what an odd place to be ticklish..."

Sebastian commented slyly. Keeping at the squeezing on your knee, the hand on your tummy now poking your belly button. Your face was bright red by this point. You didn't know if it was the tickles or the teasing that caused it. But right now, you didn't care as you squirmed and kicked. Your high-pitched giggles filling the shop.

His clawed hand moved down from your tummy to where your sides and hips met. Your eyes widened as he dug his clawed hand right in there. You squealed louder. Kicking your legs harder. You could feel the ends of your ears turning pink.

"What's wrong, squeaky? Does it tickle?~"

Sebastian teased grumbly. His voice getting lower at the end of his sentence. Your face burned red as you tried to squirm and kick. But he still had his hand on your damn knee, squeezing it everytime you kicked. You shook your head, the only thing you could really move. Sebastian smirked.

"No? Hm... well then..."

Sebastian pretended to think for a moment. His eyes lighting up with an idea. You didn't even have time to ask questions or speak before he leaned down, blowing a massive raspberry right on your tummy.

Your eyes widened as you burst into a fit of belly laughter. You struggled, trying to pull your arms out of his grasp to push his head away, but it was no use. Sebastian grinned against your tummy, blowing another raspberry.

It felt like it went on forever. You kicking and squealing. Your laughter filling the shop, Sebastian teasing you to know end. However, you started getting restless, and Sebastian decided he'd give *some* mercy and finally stopped. Leaving you panting and still giggling in his grasp. Sebastian chuckled down at you.

"There, there... that should teach you not to touch things you dont know..."

Sebastian smirked. Yet he didn't put you down, yet freed your arms. You looked up at Sebastian as you caught your breath, still giggling slightly as you half-heartedly glared at him. Sebastian chuckled. A little more fondly, patting your head.

"Your good, right?"

Sebastian asked. He tried to hide the concern in his voice but failed miserablely. You smiled slightly, nodding your head. Sebastian smiled a little too, averting his gaze from yours.

"Good..."

He paused.

"You'll still need to heal up though. You can stay in here and rest while you wait, or whatever..."

Sebastian mumbled. Moving you onto the floor, wrapping his massive tail around you gently. You blinked. He didn't meet your gaze. He looked almost embarrassed at his own actions.

"Just shut up and sleep or something..."

Sebastian grumbled. Picking up more files to distract himself. You smiled slightly, resting you back against his tail. You yawn, only now realising how tired you actually are. You looked up at Sebastian one more time as you got comfortable. Maybe Sebastian wasn't as bad as you thought. You looked up at him one final time before closing your eyes.

"Thanks, Sebastian..."

♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎

DONE! I loved writing this! Definitely got me back into things! Also, it feels a little refreshing to take a break from writing about the mandela catalogue as much as I love it. 😅

[stevesjockstrap]

Cold Beginnings

@steddiemas day 12: Hallmark movie tropes

Rated: M to be safe | cw: alcohol | tags: modern au

Swinging his guitar case onto his shoulder, he grabbed the last of his belongings from the car and prepared himself to walk up the steep hill to the cabin again. This part hadn’t been on the fucking website. But it was beautiful, he had to begrudgingly admit. This writing retreat was desperately needed. The record agency wouldn’t wait any longer for a new album.

Hours later as the sun was starting to set, he looked up from his notebook when he heard the distinctive beep beep of a car locking. Eddie frowned. One of the selling points of this cabin was that there were no other houses around for miles. No way should there be anyone close enough to hear.

He went to the front window but he couldn't even see where his car was parked, let alone anyone else’s. It had been snowing steadily since before he arrived and now there was a thick coat on everything in the woods around him. All of his earlier footprints had been covered over quickly.

After a few more moments of looking outside, he shrugged and went back to working. Maybe he was imagining things. His brain was probably playing tricks on him since he’d never been somewhere so eerily quiet before.

A couple strings of lines jotted down later, he went to the kitchen to throw something together for dinner. He screamed as the back door opened and a blast of snowy wind circled him. Then an echoing scream made him scream again. Big brown eyes stared at him. He took in the red cheeks dotted with freckles and the long eyelashes with snowflakes sticking to them.

“What the fuck?”

“Who are you?”

Eddie stormed over to the stranger, who put his hands up in front of him placatingly, but Eddie scoffed and instead pushed the door shut behind him.

“What, were you born in a barn? And you’re dripping all over the floor,” he admonished.

The stranger blinked at him. “I’m… sorry?” He shook his head quickly before frowning at him. “Why are you here?”

“I’m staying here. Why are you here?” Eddie leaned back against the counter and crossed his arms, sizing up this intruder. He knew he looked intimidating with the tattoos and long hair and dark clothes. This guy didn’t seem very rugged. He was wearing a puffer coat for Christ’s sake.

He pulled in a long breath before excitedly saying, “I’m renting this place this week! Get away from the big city, right?”

Eddie’s eyebrows shot up. That had been one of the bullet points on the website. “Uh huh,” he deadpanned. “Well you must have your weeks confused, buddy. Because I’m renting this place this week.”

“No, I don’t think I do. I’ve had this scheduled for months. Maybe you have your dates wrong.”

Eddie smirked at him, sizing him up again. Maybe he did have some fight in him after all. “I talked to the owner yesterday, man. So maybe you’re at the wrong place or something.”

He grumbled as the man set down his duffle bag and pulled his cell phone from his back pocket. “There’s no service here, dickbag. Or WiFi. So that’s not going to help. Why don’t you just-“

“I took a screenshot, dickbag. And yeah, I know that. It was why I picked it, actually. No contact. Here,” he held the phone up for him to see. “Confirmed. One week, December third through the ninth. See the little picture of the cabin?”

Eddie almost took the phone from him in shock, but growled instead and threw his hands up. “Well that’s just great. Let me find all my shit and I’ll get out of here.”

“You can’t!” The man nearly shrieked.

“Now you’re telling me what I can and can’t do?” He said through clenched teeth. This idiot was already grating on his frayed nerves.

“Um. No. But, look, okay?” He pointed out the big window over the sink. Outside it was now basically blizzarding and the sun had fully set. “I barely made it here. Thankfully the girl at the car rental place convinced me I needed four wheel drive. The road up here hasn’t been touched and it’s- it’s like, really really bad. That’s why I’m so late. It took me hours to get here from the city. Now that it’s dark it’d be even worse. We’ll just have to-“

“I’m not staying here with you,” he hissed.

The man took a step back but looked at him determinedly. “It’ll be fine. I’ll take the couch. I’ll stay out of your hair. Maybe the weather will get better and tomorrow we can take my truck somewhere we can get service,” he shrugged when Eddie just continued glaring at him.

“That’s very noble of you…?” He raised an eyebrow at him.

“Steve.” He straightened up and actually pulled the glove off his right hand to stick it out for a handshake.

Eddie chuckled and shook it, squeezing hard enough that he watched with satisfaction as Steve’s jaw clenched. “Eddie.” He dropped his hand and sighed, the bag on the floor catching his attention. “This is all you brought?”

Steve looked down at the duffle and nodded. He only had that and a book bag on his back. “Yeah, didn’t figure I needed much.”

“Alright.” He scrubbed his hands over his face with another sigh. This was actually happening. Fuck his life. “What’s your stance on frozen pizza?”

Steve had stayed out of his way and had slept on the couch. But Eddie was still distracted by him. He had a pile of papers at the dining room table that he was reading over and would make little concerned noises or huff a laugh or sigh.

Rereading the words in the notebook in front of him, he was surprised that they were about big brown eyes and full lips (a helpful ‘dat ass’ scribbled in the margin). He closed it with his own sigh, throwing it on the coffee table and walking over to look out the front window.

Outside, it was still snowing. They’d found a radio in the kitchen last night and the weather report for the next few days wasn’t hopeful. It made the hair stand up on the back of his neck, staying here intentionally alone to get work done was a different vibe than being trapped here with a stranger, even an annoyingly attractive stranger. He wanted to get in his car and take off. Grumbling to himself, he yanked his hair off his neck and up into a bun. All this anxious oppressive energy was making him even grumpier than usual.

Grabbing his notebook and guitar, he stomped up the stairs. Ignoring the head tilt Steve sent him from the table.

Hours later, he had some pieces of a melody and a chorus. Only a million more pieces to go. But he had neglected eating and drinking and he was feeling rough.

He couldn’t hear Steve but he obviously knew he was still around. A part of him wanted to hide out upstairs for the next five days. But his stomach squeezed again and he sighed. He was not the type who could survive a hunger strike.

“Hey, I like your hair like that. And the guitar sounded good.”

Eddie bristled. He looked at the clock on the wall, wondering if it was an acceptable time to drink yet. Fuck it.

“You want a beer?” He grunted as he ducked into the fridge.

“So there’s you, Gareth and Jeff? What’s the other guy’s name again?”

“No one knows,” he said mysteriously. He found himself trying not to smile, actually enjoying messing with Steve after a handful of beers and some swigs of the bottle of Jack he’d miraculously found in a cupboard.

Steve blinked. “You’ve been in a band with this guy since high school and you don’t know his name?”

He shrugged, chuckling darkly and took another swig from the bottle. Steve shook his head. “You’re insufferable.”

“That, Steve, everyone does know,” he said in a conspiratorial whisper, before throwing his head back and laughing. He settled himself further into the couch.

“Somehow it works for you, though,” he shot a sideways grin at him while taking a sip from his beer. He’d only had two, and waved Eddie away when he’d offered the bottle. But it appeared that he was a lightweight. His cheeks had turned red instantly and his eyes seemed glazed. Eddie had insisted he eat more of the pasta and garlic bread he’d thrown together.

“Oh? Because I’ve been so very pleasant to you during this hostage situation, huh?”

“Could be worse,” he shrugged. “It’s been kind of fun. And you’re not as grouchy as you try to be, you know? I like you better when you’re being the real you.”

Eddie choked on the alcohol he had been about to swallow. As he tried not to throw up everywhere, a hand on his chest was pushing him back, straightening him up and he found he could breathe better.

“Fuck. Thanks,” he gasped as he leaned back and took some deep breaths.

Steve watched him intently like he was making sure he was going to keep breathing. He found himself liking this different attention, not having to put on the show or theatrics he always felt like he had to pull around everyone else.

He also realized Steve had moved closer and stayed, his hand hovering even closer between them in case he needed help again. It almost made him want to start choking again. They just sat there for some time, looking at each other until Eddie’s breaths evened out and then it seemed awkward for him to say anything. He memorized the moles and freckles dotted across his face and neck.

When he traced the shape of Steve’s lips with his eyes, he watched them part in a gasp. When he looked up into his eyes again, the full bottom lip was pulled in and bit into and a small noise escaped Eddie. Steve’s eyes dropped down to his lips and something snapped in him.

“Get over here,” Eddie growled, unable to wait another second.

They met in a heated collision of lips and teeth. He cupped his jaw with both hands and held on, keeping him where he wanted as he deepened the kiss. Steve pushed against it a bit, which Eddie found he liked. He allowed him to angle their heads and he gasped as teeth found his bottom lip. He was surprised when a warm tongue caressed over the bitten lip, taking away the sting. Sassy then sweet. Heat pooled in his belly and he wrapped an arm around Steve’s lower back, pulling him closer.

He groaned as suddenly his lap was full of Steve. He brought his hands to his hips to slide him even closer then gave into his desperate desire to grab handfuls of his ass.

Steve pulled away to breathe and he slid his lips across the pair of infuriatingly attractive moles on his neck. Scraping his teeth across his skin and reveling in the little needy noses Steve was making, his own embarrassing noise punched out of him when he was pushed back, not very gently.

“Ed- Eddie,” Steve panted from above him. His eyes were even more glazed over and his lips were red and wet and Eddie started leaning in again. He hadn’t even gotten to bite them. Steve pushed on his chest again, pulling him out of his stupor.

“Yeah? You okay?” He moved his hands off his backside and cupped his face again.

“Yeah,” he huffed a laugh. “Definitely okay. But I’m realizing I’m more drunk than I thought. Uh, more drunk than I’d like to be, to continue this.”

Eddie nodded quickly. “Sure. Of course. Got a little carried away, I think.”

“I definitely did,” Steve laughed. Looking down, maybe just realizing he was still in his lap, he blushed and Eddie helped him maneuver to sit next to him. “But I don’t want you to run away. I dunno, can we just keep talking?”

He pulled him close again, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips. “Not going anywhere. Even if I could.” They stared into each other's eyes for a moment. “Hey, you wanna hear the song I’m writing about you?”

“Oh,” Steve covered his shocked face quickly with a shy smile. “Y-yeah. That’d be amazing.”

Eddie grinned at him, running to go grab his stuff.

He decided on the stairs that this week was going to be a good one.

[secretly-larry-daley]

This is for the Cars Christmas Art exchange!

My assignment was for @snazzyidiot1

I hope you enjoy! It’s got a mix of angst and fluff ^^ please enjoy

With a final heave, Lightning rested the last of the firewood into the pit. Wiping his hands on his jeans, Lightning retreats back to his lawn chair. He glances over to Mater, flashing him a grin. “Great night for a bonfire, huh? It’s… been a while.”

Mater laughed. “Ya could say that again, buddy! Shoot, with ya’s racin’ and all. ‘Bout time you took some time to relax.”

Lightning rolled his eyes in response, easing more into his chair. “You know, relaxing is not much of my speed. I live my life in the fast lane. You should know this after…” He stops for a moment. How long had they been friends? It felt like he had just met Mater in the scrap yard merely weeks ago. Embarrassment slowly crept up Lightning’s neck as he blushed pink.

“Did ya forget again?”

“No! No, it’s been uh–”

Lightning quickly looked down to his hands, muttering to himself. “So I came around to Radiator Springs in… what? 2006? So that would be 2024 minus 2006–”

“18 years.”

Lightning blinked. “What?”

“We’ve been friends for 18 years!”

The racer tensed in his seat, scratching the back of his neck. “R-right! 18 years. I, um, knew that.” 18, come on Lightning, you’re better than this.

Mater gave the other man a knowing look, raising his eyebrow. But, he did not press the issue. Why argue on such a lovely night? The two had a lovely fire to enjoy! Instead, leaving the two in a nice moment of silence. The sun had finally set over the horizon, leaving only the bonfire as their only source of light. Crickets hummed quietly as the fire cracked and fizzled. It relaxed Mater; oozing him into his cheaply made chair. Lightning was anything but relaxed.

He quietly fidgeted in his seat, picking at whatever dirt he could find between his nails.

18 years. Wow.

Lightning felt he should’ve remembered that. After all, that seems like an awfully important number. It was one after 17, a lucky number. And it was two counts away from 20. Shoot, had he really been in Radiator Springs for that long? It felt like just yesterday he crashed landed himself here. A washed rookie looking for stardom. Now he… can’t even remember something as basic as how long him and Mater has been friends for.

The racer stole a glance at his best friend. Completely peaceful and out of mind, probably already forgotten what they had just talked about. Lightning wished he could be like that. So care-free that you could just let your worries float away in the wind. It was wreckless, sure, but it must feel much more freeing than whatever Lightning was going through now.

It wasn’t before Mater noticed the racer staring at him.

“Something on y’er mind, bud?”

Immediately, his friend’s voice snapped him out of it. For a moment, he opened his mouth to deny the claim, but any excuse he could think of died in the back of his throat. Ultimately, Lightning sighed. “Am… am I good friend?”

Mater nearly toppled out of his chair; standing quickly to his feet. “What?! Y’er my best bud in the world!”

Lightning rubbed the back of his neck again. “Well, yeah, I know but… I don’t know, I feel like I’m not always the greatest at it.”

“What do ya mean?”

“Think about it Mater,” Lightning started, once more adjusting himself in his seat. He was practically leaning off it at this point. “I have a horrible memory. I can barely remember your birthday half the time! I couldn’t even remember how long we’ve been friends. I feel like I should know that!”

“Well Lightnin-”

It was the racer’s turn to get out of his seat, pacing back and forth in front of their bonfire. “It always feels like I come short with our friendship. Time after time it always feels like you’ve done something for me. Whenever I need you, you’re there. I just…”

Lightning trailed off, looking to his feet. He felt like a guilty child who had gotten himself caught in the cookie jar. Owning up to your own shortcomings wasn’t exactly an easy thing. Let alone admit them to your best friend.

“I want to be good enough.”

The racer didn’t dare look up. Out of shame and…hurt. He’s never admitted this anyone, let alone Mater. He couldn’t even imagine how he’d feel if someone told him any of this. God, he hadn’t met to make this such a mess.

That’s when Lightning felt a sturdy hand upon his shoulder. “Lightning, look at me.”

He did as told; now face to face with Mater. His face held an expression Lightning had been well acquainted with. One out of compassion (with a dash of silliness). Something about it always found a way to put Lightning at ease. Sometimes he wondered if it were magic.

Mater smiled, “Buddy, I– I’m not the best at words, ya know that, but I can tell ya this. I couldn’t even ask for a better friend. We have our moments, sure, yet that never stopped us. We’re still here in Radiator Springs, enjoying this fire here.” He gestured to it, taking a moment to have a tender look at the fumes floating about. “And yeah, you might not have the best memory, but ya make up for it that big heart of yours…and y’er “remember” notes.”

Lightning waved his hand. “Oh come on, I don’t have that many.”

Mater gave him a knowing look. Letting go of Lightning, he moved to his friend’s chair to tip it over. Under the chair revealed a bunch of sticky notes that had “remember the firewood” plastered all over them. Lightning gave Mater a guilty grin. “Well…maybe a couple.”

“Couple,” sure….”

“Ok, ok a lot.”

“Anywho, that ain’t the point,” Mater moved himself back to Lightning. “The point is, even with your quirks, you’re good enough. For me and for the rest of Radiator Springs.”

Lightning opened his mouth again, but he knew a hug would work much better.

18 years… wow.

Hopefully they’ll have 18 more.

[campbyler]

helllooo!!

i hope you’re all doing well!

just gon leave my overall thoughts on this spectacular, insane, gut wrenchingly beautiful chapter:

- first, thea your writing has me rocking back and forth insanely while sobbing with taylor swift on loud speaker in the background. it’s just. ugh. it’s so. you’re so talented <3

- michael. inhalers should be put in your silly little fanny pack at all times. just shove your snacks into your pockets if you’re that desperate

- lucas is always right.

- hopper knows

- i keep re-reading the asthma attack scene (beforehand) and i have no idea why will was crying - feel like i’ve missed smth but it really showed that mike does, in fact, — no matter how hard he tries to deny this — care about will and i think that perfectly sets their relationship into the ground if yk what i mean?

- will flinches a lot and this will probably be brought up again?? i think it aligns with his dad, lonnie, as in “follow the sparks (i’ll drive)” (which may i say is BEAUTIFULLY written by suni) it’s shown that will has a fear of cars driving past a certain limit - even though mike was driving somewhere around 85 (i forget now but i’m trying) because of lonnie. feel like this’ll be brought up again.

- “Like – what might Will do, if Mike were to kiss somewhere that wasn’t his lips? If he didn’t give Will a clean break; if he were messy about it when he pulled his mouth away from Will’s, if he trailed his kisses along Will’s skin instead? Would Will like it, if Mike used his mouth to trace along the length of his jaw, down to his neck, working his way into that nook of space behind Will’s ear? Would he get mad, Mike muses, if Mike bit into his skin where his neck meets his shoulder, or would he be okay with a bite like that? Would he push Mike away, or would his breath hitch, would his fingers tighten in Mike’s hair, would he bring his other hand up to cradle Mike’s head, too? Would he also have the thought that not all the marks they leave on each other have to hurt – that not all of them need bandaids to heal, that some of them can be smoothed over with a kiss instead? Will’s breath hitches, and all ten of his fingers are knotted into Mike’s hair, and Mike kisses the spot he’s sunk his teeth into so swiftly . . . Mike wonders if he’s gotten carried away, if he got so engrossed in whether or not he could do something, he hadn’t stopped to consider whether or not he should. He brushes another kiss against Will’s skin, apologetic and cautious, and then another – further up, back by his ear, right at the curve of his jaw.” okay, i LOVE the way you’ve characterised mike here. the fact that he’s an over thinker, he over thinks how will is feeling, he over thinks if he’s doing the right thing and overall is being tender with affection as he, quote-unquote, “doesn’t hate will — and that’s all he’s willing to admit”. gotcha buddy…

- “i like your bucket” i had a cheeky giggle

- “Mike thinks he would very much like to hate Will – he thinks his life might be a lot easier if he did. But he doesn’t, and that’s as much as he’s willing to admit.” excuse me. ex—fucking—scuse me?? evil. evil for that ending. you know. you know what you’re doing. and it’s painful >:(

- last, but oh ho-ho not the least. i kid you not when will kissed mike i had to pause. take a large, over exaggerated step back. blink. blink again. look around. then, re-read the first sentence. and scream.

no but seriously, this chapter was absolutely beautiful. again, thea, your writing is amazing and it’s so refreshing to read.

furthermore, please don’t feel like you have to get a chapter done by a dead line if there is something that causes a slower pace! take all the time you need! <3

HELLO!!! WE ARE DOING GREAT!!!!! i am Sat for this ask ty for leaving all your thoughts!! let me try to respond point by point:

SHSH HH . SHH. HSHHHHHSHHSHHSH . why would you say that. WHY WOULD YU SAY THAT!!!!!!! now iiii am rocking back and forth insanely while sobbing with taylor swift on loud speaker in the background!!!!!!!!!

he is more frequently hungry than he is having an asthma attack!!!!!!! he's a growing boy!!!!! let him live!!!!!!!!!

lucas IS always right.

hopper probably definitely knows.

it's not super obvious in the narrative because mike has an asthma attack before he can bring it up LOL but since i'm not sure if it gets addressed in ch05, as the Author, i will confirm: will is a frustrated crier! he is frustrated at himself for the circumstances they've found themselves in and because max and justin are both rightfully mad at him so he is assuming Everyone hates him. he didn't get the same pep talk from max that mike got from lucas so he's just in his feels a little bit! he's good tho fr :)

No Comment At This Time

we ummm. we all love writing mike as an overthinker because that's just #true so the kiss scene was fun bc it was like. mike's actions were being carried out through his thoughts and it was a neat little trick to balance as a writer :')

i personally actually fr say "any questions? comments? concerns? complaints? compliments?" to my team in shift meetings so that was fun to bring in here and it was a nice moment to diffuse the tension LOL

mwhaha and hehe and hoohoo and so on and so forth

thank you so much for your kind words and leniency with the chapter going up!! i am sure that it Will happen again so to have the reassurance of everyone's patience has been so nice :') <3

[wisteriadaydreams]

Hello! I'm new to tumblr and hopefully me trying to contact you and my request is appropriate. I found your blog amazing and even relatable in a lot of ways and i'm honestly very grateful I've found you! (Side note, this request is dedicated towards Tanjiro!)

I had an idea evolving around gaining consciousness in a dream and a form of bond between the two. I'm a lucid dreamer and a fan of concept where dreaming space is perfect for unique and pure interactions, a lot of mutual reassurance and a need to put in effort to go lucid, for the two to recognize eachother. I'm leaving particular ways of interactions to the creator, all i wanted to mention is the aspect of rapidly passing time and the two dreamers being aware of the coming unpredictable waking point. I believe it makes the scenario tense and sensual in a way, since nothing you experience in a dream should be taken for granted! Maybe it's worth working on a concept where the dreaming space is the only one that brings them together.

What i've brought up is probably very generous but I wanted to take a little step and maybe find a possible ally. Where my dream buddies at? 🪴

ONLY AWAKE WHEN I'M DREAMING

pairing: Kamado Tanjirō x gn!reader

genre: fluff, a dash of angst

words: 3.9k

a/n: anon, ur mind is sth i'm envious of, this is such a big brain idea

You know this place, but you have never been here before.

It's like you've stepped into a childhood memory that you have no recollection of, the sides of the fragmented pieces so blunt that you have no idea how to put them all back together. You look around and everything is hazy, like you're in one of those paintings where the background are but languid and dreamy strokes.

You think you feel the sun on your skin, the grass beneath your feet, and the air tastes heady and sweet like a summer night. You blink and the world remains streaks of color smeared on canvas, but a splash of emerald green and red catches your eyes.

You move (or you think you moved) and the last thing you expected to find is a boy.

His wine-dark gaze falls to you and everything at once becomes foreign.

"-ho...ar...ou?" You open your mouth and your voice sounds like a melody played on a broken record.

He doesn't reply to you, or at least, when you focus, it seems that he's trying to. When you squint your eyes you think you see his lips move, but everything is disjointed.

"...do...T...ji...ō."

You feel like you're in one of those social events where you're introduced to a friend of a friend of a friend and you know their name will slip out of your mind, but this is on another level entirely. Though there's definitely some guilt there, you figured that it would be rude not to introduce yourself back.

"I'm (Y/–"

You wake up, the last syllable dissolving like cotton candy in your mouth, and the threads of the dream slips through your fingers.

───── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ─────

This place is familiar to you, but you're certain you've never set foot here.

The wind tousles your hair and you think it carries with it a light scent of the flowers surrounding your feet. Nothing is concrete, save for the boy before you.

There's nothing like the relieving sense of recognition that washes over you, followed immediately by the gripping flash of panic that you didn't manage to catch his name. Would it be rude to ask again? Or can you nod and bluff your way through this?

"Hi," you offer tentatively.

"Hi," he responds with a polite smile. "Have we met before?"

"Yeah, briefly." You shuffle your feet. "Do you know where we are?"

"I'm not sure. It's familiar to me, but I don't know where this is."

So maybe you're not crazy after all. "I feel that way, too! This could be any place from my memories, but I can't pinpoint which one it is. Do you know what I mean?"

"I do." His eyes dart around the empty landscape before settling on you once more, and if your mind didn't deceive you, you think you see his eyebrows knitting together a little bit. "I'm sorry, I'm sure you've told me this before and this is very rude of me, but I don't remember your name." He then begins to apologize and bow to you profusely.

Your shoulders sag in relief. "No it's okay! To be honest, I didn't quite catch your name either."

"...Tan...ji...rō." You're able to hear him better this time, but whatever he said earlier still eluded your mind.

"(Y...N)," you say and hold out your hand. You lean your head to one side when he looks at it like he doesn't know what to do. Maybe he's just one of those people who doesn't like handshakes?

Now that you think about it, he's not dressed in a way that you're familiar with. No offense to his fashion style, but it's not every day that you see someone wear a long kimono-like jacket with black and dark green checker patterns.

You're starting to feel awkward when he finally grasps your hand uncertainly.

"Nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you too Tan—"

The last of those syllables burn on your tongue until not even ash is left as you rise with the morning sun.

───── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ─────

"We have to stop meeting like this."

The boy smiles at you in greeting, and a fraction of a second later his name flows like spring water into your mind.

"I agree. No-not that there's anything wrong with meeting you like this. It's just...a little strange."

"I get it." You sit down on the grass beside him, the blades so velvety smooth that you feel like they're not even there. "It's still weird to me. Like I'm half here and half not."

"Like you're in a dream."

"Yeah." You pause, the notion itching in your brain. "Something like that. I'm still not even sure how I got here. This feels a little too far away from home."

"Which is where, exactly?"

You tell him, but seeing his blank stare makes the nagging feeling in your gut become more intense. You explain where it is, and the way he almost jumps out of his skin makes you flinch in turn. All of your muscles seem to tense up as you ask him the same question.

"I used to live on a remote mountain in the countryside, but now I travel all around Tokyo and beyond for my job."

You blink several times, as if this would make the words make more sense in your mind. "No wonder you're dressed like that. But, um, can I ask what year it is for you?"

"It's the 10th year of the Taisho era," he says like that's the most obvious thing in the world, but you have no idea what that means. "Uh, what about you?"

You answer him, and his reaction is all you needed to know that there's no way that your time period lines up with his.

You slap yourself in the face, ignoring the worried cries of your companion. You don't feel a single thing, not even a featherlight touch.

"Holy crap, we're in a dream, aren't we?"

The realization settles like a dew drop that slowly falls from a leaf, and the moment it hits the ground the mist around you is washed away by the hands of early dawn.

───── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ─────

"You're pulling my leg," you exclaim.

Tanjirō's brows knit together. "I'm...doing what?"

"Sorry, figure of speech. But demons? Really?"

After mutually establishing that the landscape they find themselves in is in fact a dream, and realizing that the other person (maybe?) isn't simply a figment of their imagination, both you and Tanjirō have been able to settle down enough to understand the situation.

It appears that this type of dream doesn't occur every single night, but they have no way to determine that for sure when their memories of their encounters are scrubbed clean every single morning. But as soon as you laid eyes on each other, those snatched memories are returned to you like a worn blanket that you once thought you lost.

Every time you get to know him a little better, hearing snippets of his life with his sister and friends. You offer stories of your own about your daily life and trying desperately to explain the leaps and bounds technology has made to him.

Soon enough, you both found out that though this might be your dream, or his, you don't have total control. He would be in the middle of telling you the story of how he got his scar when he would be thrown out of the dream, or you would wake up while passionately ranting about your day, leaving you to show up the next night huffing because you realized you've lost all train of thoughts.

You and Tanjirō make it work, somehow. Even when you're from different cultures and hell, completely different time periods (even though you're still not sure he's some illusion your mind came up with), you get along well with him. Despite of all the differences, Tanjirō is one of the most open-minded person you've ever known. He listens attentively and is genuinely interested in anything you have to say, and it makes you breathe easier knowing that he's the one with you in this weird dimension.

"I had the same reaction as you," he says to your previous sentence. "I couldn't believe at first, but then..."

He turns away from you, but you catch the flicker of pain nonetheless. Though Tanjirō has been all smiles, though he is so good at hiding it that it makes your heart twist, you still notice it a couple of times, especially when he talks about his sister and the life he used to have — rife with hard work and financial worries, but oh so blissful.

"They sound scary." You curse yourself for not being able to find better things to say.

"It was, it is still. But that's why I chose to do what I do, so that no one have to go through what I went through." He tugs at the fabric of his dark uniform. "You know, when I first met you, I felt a little afraid because I didn't have my sword with me. For the first time in a while, I was vulnerable. I kept reaching for something that wasn't there." He looks down at the empty space by his side. "But now, I'm glad. I feel safe here, I don't have to watch for every movement or be wary about anything. I can breathe easier here." He turns to you, and you idly wonder how the sun can hope to compare with such a smile. "And I'm glad I'm able to do it with you."

───── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ─────

"If this is a dream, what do you think we can control in it?" You ponder, the grass disappearing through your fingers every time you wave your hands over them.

"I've never thought about it." Tanjirō is lying on his back, staring at the formless clouds. "You mean like changing our location?"

"Maybe. This place is cool and all, but it gets boring after a while. I think I heard somewhere that there's people who can control what they dream about. I'm pretty sure it's called lucid dreaming. I wonder how they do it though. Like do they just think very hard about it?"

"Well, wanna give it a try?" He sits up. "How about we take turns thinking about a particular place and see what happens?"

"Okay." You can't help but grin at how easily he is to get on board. "I'll try to go first."

You close your eyes, a funny notion now that you think about it, and begin to pull at the strands of your memories, searching for something that calls to you. You find it, its soft weight as familiar as a hug. You smell something in the breeze, hear the muffled voices calling your name, and when you open your eyes you're delighted to see the place you're envisioning being painted right before you. The verdant landscape give way to something much more nostalgic and corporeal, a thought given life.

You feel time lost being flown back into your veins, emotions that were once distant and foregone rise to the surface like a stream of fizzy bubbles, bursting into pockets of sweet sugar inside your mouth. Everything that once was is so within of reach.

But all too soon, the illusion breaks. You find yourself knees on the ground, heaving an imaginary breath as if you just ran a marathon. You feel Tanjirō's hands laid gently on your back, rubbing it in a soothing motion.

"Are you okay?" He asks, concern clear in his voice as he takes a hold of your shoulder.

You nod slowly. "Yeah, I'm fine. I didn't expect that to take so much out of me. But it felt so satisfying, like I just stepped back into the past. Did you see it, too?"

"I did. It was brief, but it was a beautiful place. I felt warm and giddy, like I was a child again. It was so familiar, even though I'm sure I've never been there before. Will you tell me about it?"

"Maybe after you try. I wanna see what you come up with."

Tanjirō's fairs a little better than you. For a moment, the sky begins to turn dark, twilight shades splash against the blue canvas. The nebulous sun is replaced by a dazzling moon, shining its silvery light onto the canopy of trees that are emerging from the grassy expanse.

You think you see something golden twinkling in the forest, filling you with a sensation so wistful that it almost brings tears to your eyes. But just like you, the image fizzles and dies out. Tanjirō has his palms on his knees, his chest going up and down as he takes in breath after breath.

"I get what you're saying now," he pants.

You pat his shoulder. "That was better than me. But I also get what you were saying. When I saw that, I felt something. We have a term to describe that kind of feeling. Déjà vu, it's called. It's for when you think you've seen or been somewhere you've never been before."

"Déjà vu," he repeats, his accent melting over the words like butter. "That's beautiful."

───── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ─────

You didn't think it would be possible to be tired while sleeping, but that's exactly what you felt when you stepped into the dream.

The heavy weight of the day bears down on you, further intensified by the stress that has been accumulating since god knows when. You rub your shoulders, tilting your head in an effort to get rid of the crick that has been bothering you for the whole day.

You wave at Tanjirō half-heartedly, your demeanor telling him all he needs to know.

"Are you okay?" He asks.

"Not really. Just tired."

"Long day?"

"Mmhmm." You hum and sit down beside him, scooching closer until your head rest gently on his shoulder. "I just wanna close my eyes and lie down, which is funny because I'm technically already lying down."

He adjusts your position so that you would be more comfortable, his hand rubbing your head up and down, the rhythmic motion setting you at ease.

"Hey," he speaks up after a while. "You wanna see something?"

"What is it?"

"Close your eyes."

You do as he says, anticipating swirling in your stomach. Pinpricks travel up your arms, shooting sparks of warmth down your body like you just sipped a hot drink your parents made for you on a cold day.

"Open your eyes," Tanjirō whispers softly.

You slowly do so, your jaw slightly dropping your open as you take in the scenery before you. You're in a forest drenched in argent moonlight, the branches swaying with the song of stars. A golden stream of light weaves through your vision, and before you know it, you're being surrounded by hundreds of fireflies that forms and unravels like mini galaxies.

You reach your hand out, your eyes wide with wonder as a group of fireflies twist through your fingers, bathing you in their luminescence, spreading sunshine through your body.

"This is amazing, Tanjirō." You say. "How did you manage to do this?"

"I practiced before you came." His attention is solely on you, spellbound by the way your features are illuminated by the glowing bugs. "I figured this might cheer you up since it did for my siblings. Whenever summer comes, we would go to the forest and try to catch them. But we would always release them, because we never have the heart to keep them in a jar. Hanako said that a beautiful sight like this is better shared with other people rather than keep it for your own."

"Wise words for someone so young." You turn to him, resisting the urge to run your fingers through his gold-tinted burgundy hair. "Thank you, Tanjirō."

You go back to admiring the fireflies, quietly talking with him at some points and chuckling when a bug gently boops his nose. In the spaces of the silence, you got to thinking.

It's almost worrying how comfortable you are here, how free and alive you are when you know you're only dreaming. It's a siren song that pours saccharine honey into your ears and blinds you until all you see is a vast, stagnant peace. It would be so easy to succumb, to stay in this place forever. But you have a life to live.

Nevertheless, you would be lying if you say the temptation isn't there. Especially when you have Tanjirō with you. Sweet, caring, amazing Tanjirō, who can brighten up your day with nothing but his smile.

But when you turn around, he's no longer there.

───── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ─────

There have been times when you arrive at the dream before him.

The first time it happened, you wander around the area with a slowly sinking feeling in your gut that burrows deeper the longer you wait. It led your mind to think about all of the implications that you've never thought about before. What if all of this was coming to an end? What if you have to face the reality that you'll never see him again? Could you dream any longer knowing that he isn't here by your side?

Then he appeared, like he always did, and you couldn't help but run into his arms.

So this time, when your consciousness falls into this hazy place and you don't see that familiar shade of red that stands out like a guiding light, you choose to simply sit down. You just hope that he comes soon, for the last time this happened, you were only able to call his name before you were ripped away.

The air shifts, and you know that he's here. The smile that was on your face died out like a candle when you see him slumped on the ground, shaking furiously. His hands roam frantically over his hips, as if searching for something, and he mutters something under his breath too rapidly for you to catch.

You run over to him, just as he has his hands on his throat, scratching madly and digging his fingers into the skin. Your eyes are wide with panic, never having seen him act this way before, and you crouch down and snatch his hands into yours in one motion to prevent him from hurting himself.

"Tanjirō!" You yell as he struggles in your hold. "Tanjirō! What's wrong?! Tanjirō, look at me!"

He's strong, but you're steadfast and refuse to let him go, not when he's in this state. You continuously call and speak to him until he raises his head, and the haunted look in his ember eyes makes your heart instantly drop into your stomach.

He looks trapped, terrified, eyes constantly flitting around as if what makes him this scared is right around the corner. He looks like he hasn't had a decent night of sleep in a while.

You stare at him, imploring him to recognize you and know that he's in a safe place with you. Finally, a glimmer of light dawns on him, and his shaking becomes less intense, though in no way does that mean that it stopped entirely.

He croaks your name, and the way he says it makes your heart breaks into pieces and your stomach to twist into a tight knot. He says it timidly, brokenly, like it's a fragile thing that he's so afraid of disappearing.

You nod again and again until he is convinced. Your panic heightens when tears well up in his eyes, and before you could react, Tanjiro had thrown himself into your arms.

Even when you're caught off guard, you don't hesitate at all to wrap your arms around him, a hand sinking into his hair. He holds you tight and firm, his fingers curling around the fabric of your clothes as he buries into the crook of your neck, his tears streaming down to your collarbone.

You don't know what to do. You don't know what to do when he's clearly in distress. You don't know what happened to make him this way.

You know what he has been through. He told you of his struggles, all his pain and cracked bone in his body and every time you do, you have an urge to swaddle him and protect him from a world so cruel. How could someone as young as him have gone through so much, how is it fair that his hands are already callused with scars and roughened from training at such an age? He deserves better, he deserves so much better than anything the world can ever offer.

But maybe right now, the only thing you can do is rock him back and forth in your arms, speaking to him in quiet and gentle tones, reminding him that whatever happens, this place is safe for him.

This place is safe for him.

───── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ─────

"Tanjirō, have you ever thought why us?"

"Hm?" He answers you from his position where he's cuddling with you, his arms circling around your waist and his legs tangled with yours. Ever since what happened last time, he always has to have a point of contact with you, whether it's holding your hand or hugging you. "Why what?"

"Why us in this dream? Why two people from completely different places and time?"

You have no idea why you've been chosen, why this dreamscape continues to pull your unconsciousness into it. An even more upsetting question for you is what happens when it ends?

Perhaps it's a mercy that you don't remember anything when you wake up, because if you do, you just know that you'll be searching endlessly for Tanjiro. You think you already unconsciously do, constantly searching for that spark amongst the strangers in the crowds.

But if one day this all ends and you never see him again, would your life ever be the same? Knowing that in the back of your mind, in some fuzzy corner, there will always be that nagging feeling that you're missing something?

"I don't know," he replies, snuggling more into your warmth. "But whatever the reason, I'm glad it's you."

You nuzzle your nose into the top of his head, breathing the sun from him. "I'm glad it's you, too."

───── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ─────

The sun sinks lazily, but the last of the daylight still cling stubbornly to the azure sky. Tanjirō stands among a row of houses, staring down at the piece of cloth in his hands, wondering who could've dropped it.

The fabric soaks in the sunset, and as the sky turns orange, he hears rhythmic footsteps against the dirt path running towards him.

He turns his head towards the sound, his nose picking up a scent that he could almost name. From afar, he sees that it's a person, the breeze running its gentle fingers through their hair.

The wind suddenly picks up, causing him to inadvertently close his eyes for a second. When he opens them again, it's right at the moment the person is running past him. But when their eyes lock, the world seems to slow down. Everything falls away and clicks into place at the same time.

His wine-dark eyes become wider as recognition shocks him like lightning. Their name rises from the deepest part of his soul like the tides, coating his tongue like winter snow.

It spills from his mouth in foamy waves—

Tanjirō wakes up.

He doesn't know what he dreamt about. He never seems to remember his dreams.

©️ wisteriadaydreams

➺ All of the following works belong to me. Please don’t repost, copy, or steal my content off of Tumblr. Plagiarism will not be tolerated.

[madaboutmunson]

I See You

Bisexual Character (Prompt C1) Summary: In which Eddie's tutor, Nancy, might be in need of some answers from her student

Word Count: 2603 @eddiemunsonbingo

AO3 Link ******************************************************************

“You’re killing me, dude! Please, a five-minute respite is all I’m asking for,” Eddie whines as he collapses back onto the bed, narrowly missing, hitting his head off the frame, or maybe not, Nancy thinks. It was difficult to tell with all that hair how big his head was.

“First of all. I’m not your dude. Secondly, if you don’t keep at it, you will continue to make the same mistakes, leaving everyone disappointed, especially yourself,” she points out, adjusting herself against the headboard.

“You think I don’t know that?” he muffles his complaints in the ringed hands he covers his face with before dragging them down with a firm pressure that makes his skin stretch down so far she can see the inside of his eye waterline.

“Come on, just one more try. You’re good at this, Eddie. It's just basic human anatomy,” she raises her eyebrows and gives him a happy, pressed smile, “I know you know this. You know you know this. You can do this.” She really is trying to be at maximum pep to encourage him.

Eddie rolls onto his front on the bed, rests his chin on his hands and looks up at her through his bangs, with a pout on his face that could rival one of Holly’s, “Please, just a five-minute break. I’m exhausted. You must be, too, right? A short rest, come on, Wheeler.” 

Nancy rolls her eyes and puts a post-it note on the next index card to avoid losing her place, “Fine! But we do twice as many after!” She widens her eyes at him to indicate her seriousness.

“Oh, thank god.” Eddie collapses face down into the comforter, taps both her socked feet and rolls off the bed onto the floor before immediately springing back up to his feet like he landed on an adrenaline shot before sitting on the bed again. Nancy happily shuffles through her index cards in silence for a few seconds, but she can feel the weight of Eddie’s stare and knows that he hadn't intended this break to be one of silence and digesting what they had already been over. She clears her throat, taps the cards into a neat uniform pile, and looks up at him as brightly as possible.

He inhales quickly, and she already knows she’s in for it. He leans on his hand, the fingers of which toy with the fabric underneath, “Sooooo, I was thinking,” he starts, “Maybe you come out with us this weekend?”

She exhales a little air down her nose and shakes her head, “I told you before, Eddie. I don't have time to go out right now. I’ve got so much to do, honestly. Planning, packing, looking for a new job.”

Eddie just looks at her.

Her hands cross over one another in her lap, “And I really should make an appointment for my hair, and there is this documentary I’ve been meaning to watch that I recorded.”

He sits up and crosses his arms, still looking at her, but this time, there are a few deliberate blinks and a minor quirk of a smile. As if he’s goading her to continue with her list of lame excuses.

“And I could improve our revision aids. Maybe make the cards more your style so you’ll recall more easily? Also, I should probably call Joyce at least, let her know everything is fine between us.”

His eyebrows are raised, his chin is dropped to his chest, and he looks like he smells something disgusting.

“I should probably also help my mom choose an outfit. She did say she wanted to go shopping this weekend, too.” That one is a lie too far because Eddie narrows his eyes.

Now, Nancy stares back and folds her arms.

“I don't want to go,” She says finally.

“Oh, hello! Do I detect a little tension between the newly formed study buddies?” 

Both Nancy and Eddie whip their heads towards Steve, who now stands at the end of the bed with his hands on his hips.

“I said you could stay in here on the grounds you didn’t distract Eddie, and you were silent,” Nancy scolds, enunciating the T “I should really have only needed to ask you one of those things, but you decided that humming to amuse yourself or throwing balls of paper into the waste basket were not covered by one rule alone!”

“Whoa, whoa, don’t take your frustration out on me. It’s Eddie that annoyed you,” Steve puts his hands up in submission, “So, you know, carry on being mad at him.” 

Eddie does not miss the pump of Steve’s eyebrows or the subtle kick of his bottom lip.

“Get out right now,” Eddie says in disgust, narrowing his eyes and shaking his head.

“Oh, what the hell? You were mad at Nancy for lying, not me!” Steve complains, pointing between them all. He walks behind Eddie and physically turns his head towards her, “At Nancy, see. Not at Steve. Nancy”

“Oh, so you don’t need your boyfriend in here for emotional support, then? Changed your tune, I see,” Nancy says with a tilt of her head and a told you so look on her face.

“Yeah, see, Nancy gets it,” Steve says in almost a whisper, gently releasing Eddie and tiptoeing backwards to where he was at the foot of the bed, “Do continue.” He waves a hand in front of him.

“Yeah, well, I don’t think you would enjoy continuing the argument if you knew why he was so eager for us to argue, Wheeler. So I suggest you just agree with me,” Eddie raises his finger, “and because I’m doing you a solid and not adding to your ever-growing list of trauma, you should agree to hit the club with us- in fact, maybe just me, this weekend.” He says, cutting his eyes at Steve.

“What do you mean not adding to my long list of trauma? I’m fine. Everything is fine, actually,” Nancy bristles.

Eddie’s eyebrows push together as he tilts his head and looks right back at her, “Is it really, though? We’ve been through so much. You fourth only to Supergirl, Red and mini Byers.”

Nancy winces, and her tensed shoulders lower the tiniest amount.

“Shit, sorry, Nance. I shouldn’t have said that name,” Eddie reaches out and gently hovers over, but not touching her arm.

“It’s ok, you weren’t talking about Jonathan,” her lip twitches a little as her voice settles to something regretful as she glances back at Eddie with a shrug of a smile.

An increasing shadow catches their attention. Eddie snaps his head around with a scowl aimed at a hopeful-looking Steve, whose face is much closer because he’s leaning as much as he can over the bed frame.

“Are you shitting me?” Eddie snips at Steve, “You pervert! Get out right fucking now!” Eddie, quick as lightning, jumps to his feet off the bed, and Steve runs for it out of the room.

“Pervert? Wait- what? Ewwww,” Nancy looks horrified and pulls her knees up to her chest.

“See, this is why I didn’t want to say anything,” Eddie says, slamming the door after him.

“The handles work just fine in this house!” Ted Wheeler’s voice rings up the stairs.

“But wait, that doesn’t make sense. Steve’s with you, right, he’s um, he’s gay,” Nancy says, a little confused.

Eddie tilts his head at her, “Huh,” he says, a little amused, and pulls the chair from the desk. He sits on it backwards to look at her and rests his elbows on the chair's back and his chin between his fists. He’s analysing her. She can feel it.

She shakes her head incredulously and mimics him, “Huh,” before mockingly staring back at him.

He leans back a little, taps his fingers to his mouth and then onto the top of the chair, “So you think you can only like guys or girls? Like an either-or deal?”

“What are you getting at?” She rolls her eyes.

“Fuck, that explains such a lot, actually,” Eddie says, slowly rubbing his hand on his jaw.

“Eddie, if you are gonna try and procrastinate by talking in riddles, we can just leave the studying for another day when you can focus,” Nancy says, tidying away the textbooks.

Then he’s quickly out of his seat, his hand pushing the air in front of her as if to keep her in place, “No-no-no, I honestly have never felt more focused, just um, you’re so very smart, but perhaps, er, how can I phrase this without sounding like a condescending dickhead,” He shakes his head quickly, “Ok maybe I just going to have to sound like a condescending asshole for this. What I’m trying to say is, perhaps you aren’t very worldly?” He says, gritting his teeth with a pained expression, expecting the worst.

Nancy's first instinct is to point out all the ways she is, in fact, worldly and is, in fact, leaps ahead of him in every area of intelligence. He’s the one failing to graduate and dealing drugs, not her. But there is something in his demeanour that makes her take pause.

She folds her arms and leans back against the headboard again, “The stage is yours,” she gestures to the empty space in the room. Eddie gives an excited punch to the air as he wrinkles his nose before he beams broadly.

“Thank you, Wheeler,” He says, walking away from the bed further into the space to begin a slow pace backwards and forwards where Nancy can see him, “And I promise if you allow me to get to the point of this conversation, I will nail three times as many questions afterwards.”

“Ok…you’ve got yourself a deal,” she says, a little confused. She thinks perhaps Eddie was feeling a little starved for attention because the distraction of the conversation she understands, but the willingness to go back to work afterwards she did not. Especially as in the limited time she’d known him and snippets from Mike, Lucas and Dustin, Eddie doesn’t use ‘promise’ lightly.

He claps his hands excitedly, “Ok, ok. So forgive the analogy, but I find it’s a little less jarring, and I am but a simple storyteller at heart,” he says, flourishing his hand towards himself.

Nancy raises an unamused eyebrow at him.

“Ok, got it. Get on with it,” he spins on his heel and clasps his hands behind him, “So, imagine, if you will, that attraction is like a fruit bowl. It’s your bowl, so you can fill it however you like. So if you like apples, you can fill it with those, right. Or maybe you find the thought of apples disgusting and much prefer oranges. You could fill that bowl with just oranges.” Nancy listens but thinks it’s a little silly. She knows how attraction works. It’s either the opposite sex or the same sex.

Eddie stops still in the middle of the room, rocks back on his heels and looks around the ceiling before his eyes fall back on her. “But you know some people don’t like fruit at all. And some people don’t really care about the type of fruit in their bowl. They just like good fruit, you know? So they might have a mixed bowl.”

“What do they are just attracted to everyone?” Nancy says with a laugh.

Eddie shakes his head and waves his hands in front of him, “No, well, maybe, but that’s not what I’m getting at. You know what, forget the analogy. Permission to be direct?” He says as he sits back down on the chair.

“Granted,” Nancy says with a nod. He’s not making much sense, but he does have her curiosity now.

“Ok, what I am trying to say is. There is a world of sexualities out there. It’s not just straight or gay. There are people out there that like one, some, all or none,” Eddie looks at her hopefully.

“Hmmm, so for some people, they just like anyone?” Nancy asks.

“Do you like all the guys in the world?”

“Of course not!” She laughs and pauses, “Oh. Right,” she says as the pieces fall perfectly into place.

Eddie smiles kindly with a few nods.

“So if you were always into girls but then you met this one fascinating guy, that could be something? Hypothetically speaking,” She says, averting her eyes and smoothing down her clothes.

“Yeah, something like that could definitely be something,” Eddie says gently as Nancy touches the palm of her hand and glances over at her ballerina jewellery box. 

“You know, you could just meet someone under weird circumstances, go through hell and back with them, spend time with them, and you might eventually realise that it’s not just the friendship you want with them.” He squints a little, “Even if they are a babbling brook of anxiety, watch films that are way too fucking long and have poor music taste.” 

Nancy freezes, and Eddie simply chuckles at her surprised expression.

“I may not be great at the cerebral lobes, but the heart…I’m ok at,” he rests his chin on the back of the chair, “Maybe if you came to the club with us, I could distract one half of the brain cell with my dance floor moves, and you’d have the other half all to yourself for a change?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Nancy snorts out a laugh and smirks nervously.

“I see you trying to get to know her on our movie nights. I can feel the tension fly out of you like a triggered spike trap when she leans into your space. You position the bowls of her favourite snacks nearest her, always!” Eddie puts his hand over his heart, “And I see the way you cover the edges of tables and counters and cupboards when she’s near them. Flattening the bumps in the rug and tidying away anything on the floor before it even had a second on it. And I see the way you make sure to wear that barrette she compliments you on every single time you wear it. And I see the way you hang on her every word, even when she’s been talking for hours about school band politics. And I see you remember to take that forgotten breath just after she enters the room…I see you, Nancy,” his eyes search hers, “I see you, and it’s ok.”

Nancy is about to say thank him when there is a loud thunk against the door and a muffled sob.

“Serves you right, you nosy little shit!” Eddie says sharply at the door before he relaxes again and turns back to Nancy. “So maybe come out with us? The place we go, it’s cool. I promise,” he says with a fond smile.

Nancy shakes her head in disbelief and smirks at Eddie, “Alright then,” she says quietly.

“Wuzzthattayes?” Hums through the door.

“I should probably go deal with that,” he sighs and points towards the door, but as he motions towards it, he feels himself pulled back.

Nancy’s hand firmly grips his arm, “What if she doesn’t like me that way?” her voice sharp with urgency.

He looks down at her hand and smiles, “Trust me, Wheeler. This Cupid ain’t stupid,” he grins and her hand releases. Eddie opens the door, and onto the floor flops a visibly emotional Steve. They both look down at him and then back up at one another. Eddie clasps Nancy’s shoulder and accompanies it with a beaming grin, “Bon chance, with the other half, my friend.”

[chalterdh22]

Chapter 23: Can We go Back into Town?

I started blinking as I woke up.  Grogu was still sleeping in my arms the same way I remembered him.  I breathed a sigh of relief, since my one job was to watch over him.  I slowly turned my head to see the rest of the cabin, half expecting Din to not be in it.  He was, though.  I squinted and looked harder.  He was only wearing his flight suit, no armor, and no boots.  I laughed.  He probably did the same thing I did and just passed out. 

I went slowly to get up without disturbing the kid.  The suns were still up, although may have about 3 more hours until sunset.  Grogu started to stir in my arms.  He’ll probably be hungry when he gets up.  I took him quietly and set him down at the foot of Din’s bed and made my way to the kitchen area. 

Suddenly, I heard some whimpering coming from the kid.  I couldn’t tell if he was still asleep, or if he was mad, I put him down.  So, I went over to Din’s bed a sat at the very end of it, slowly petting Grogu’s ears to help sooth him.  He blinked and looked up at me.  “Hey there.”  I whispered.  He looked around for a second, not knowing how he got there.  “I was just going to get you some food.  Are you hungry?”  Stupid question, I know.  His ears perked up.  I stood up to walk back to the kitchen.  “We’ll need to go back into Nevarro to get more food, buddy.  But I think I can whip us up something real fast tonight.” 

Grogu started to stand up wobbly and grab onto Din’s pant leg to steady himself.  He realized Din was still sleeping.  He climbed onto his moving chest and sat there. Looking up towards his head and down towards his socked feet, as studying him and what to do next.  Gurgling noises came from him and his hand patted Din’s chest.  “Gah!”  He squeaked.

“Shoosh, we don’t want to wake him up.”  He looked at me as if he didn’t understand.  I was letting the food heat on the stove now and walked back over to pick him up off Din. “Come here.”  Grogu stood up and walked away from me down his legs.  He was balancing on them, looking awkward but still able.  He stopped on his shins, turned, and pointed to Din’s head.

“What?”  I asked quietly, bending over as if he would whisper to me.

Quickly, Din threw me to the ground, and stood over me again.

“Always be on guard.  Never assume anything because of what something looks like.”

“Dank farrik!  You scared the crap out of me!”  I yelled.  “Were you even asleep?”

“Yes, but I don’t sleep very deeply.  I heard you guys get up and lay there, watching.  You assumed I was in a deep sleep.  Never assume!”

“Ok, ok, get off.  You proved your point!”  But he didn’t move.  He still had me straddled, staring at me.  Grogu came waddling over to my head now.  “Did you know about this?”  I asked the kid.  He tilted his head and smiled.  Of course, the little womp rat knew.  I should have known, those two thick as thieves.  “Fine, fine.  I get it.  Get off me now.  I’m too sore to fight anymore today.”

“No.  Make me get off you without fighting me.”  Wait, what?  How the heck can I do that.  A, I was too sore and tired.  B, I couldn’t think straight right now.  And C, well like I said, I can’t think!  So, I just sunk down and laid perfectly still, trying to come up with a plan.  His grasp was tight, and he bared all his weight on me, but I wasn’t hurting.  I sighed, tried to stretch my legs and toes out. 

Wait, I got it.  The kid.  I’ll use the kid!  I turned to Grogu and looked him in the eyes.  I needed to communicate without speaking.  I closed my eyes then.  In my head, I said, “Grogu, Grogu, can you hear me buddy?  If so, you need to help me out.  We need to get your dad off me.”  Grogu’s face appeared in my head and in my head, Din was on top of my still.  I needed a quick distraction, that is all.  In my head again, I asked the kid if he could help give a quick distraction so I can roll out.  Grogu pointed down to Mando’s legs.  All I needed was a half a second.  I opened my eyes to Din still staring, not moving a muscle. 

“I’m getting a little bored here.”  He remarked.  I curled one of my legs inward, close enough for my toes to touch his socked foot.  He didn’t appear to have felt that.  Then I curled my toes to scratch the bottom of his foot.  That did it!  He jumped enough for me to roll out and stand up.  Still kneeling, he looked up at me. 

“You’re too easy.”  I said snickering.  He didn’t say anything. I walked over to the stove and turned it off.  “Food’s ready.”  I called all chipper in my voice.  “Oh, and we need to go back into town for more food.”  I poured three bowls of the soup to let it cool.  Blowing on mine, Grogu chugged his down, so I gave him a little more.  “Save some for your dad, buddy!”

Din was now sitting on his bed, putting on his boots and armor.  I couldn’t wipe this stupid smile off my face.  I could totally tell he was really upset!  I just don’t think he’s used to any type of contact unless it’s pain.  When he was back in his gear, he grabbed the bowl and walked outside.  I looked down at Grogu who had finished his second bowl.  “Do you think he’s mad at me?  I asked quietly. 

“Bah,” he said shaking his head no and looking at me again.  “Patu, gah.”  He pointed at me.

“I really need to learn your language, little man.”  But wait, I could communicate with him.  I’ve done it in the past, but it’s never the same or easy.  “Can we try to communicate somehow, on purpose?”  His ears went up, as if he was excited about that.  “Great!”  I put him on the table and turned right to him.  “Tell me something.”

Grogu blinked slowly, and I felt this wave over my eyes, almost misty, but I could still see clearly.  I could see Din’s face as he was eating.  He was not mad!  He actually had a small smile on his face eating the soup.  I felt warmth coming from him, like he was comfortable, not stressed, mad, or anything like that.  Was I doing this or was Grogu showing me?  How did all this work?  It didn’t matter.  That was enough for me at this time.

I heard Din get up from outside and walk back in.  “Are you two done eating?”  I nodded yes.  Now that I knew he wasn’t mad, I really didn’t want to say or do anything to upset him.  “Ok, grab your gear.  We will go into town.”

“But it’s getting late.  Should we wait until tomorrow?”

“We’ll be quick.  I also have a double seated speeder in the back, so we’ll use that instead of walking.”

“You have a what?”  I had never heard of that before.

“Your mom made one up for me awhile back and I had been transported here after we started living in the cabin.”  He walked outside and around the back.  It was covered up by a tarp.  There it was though.  Two seats, plus a small carrier for the kid.  Wow, I thought.  I looked the same size as a normal speeder.  But it had an extended piece on the back of the seat for another person. 

“Cool.  Can I drive?”  I asked immediately, jumping into the driver’s seat.

“No.”  He picked up Grogu and put him in the small side carrier and put a little loop around him.  I got up out of the seat and stood there with an expression like, fine, but I’ll be driving this thing later.  I loved speeders!  It felt like you were flying!  Din then sat in the pilot’s seat, and I just stood there waiting for instructions like a child.  He started it up and looked at me. 

“Do I just sit down behind you?  What do I hang onto?”  I asked looking around. 

“Yes, and Grogu just puts his hands in the air.”  Wait, was that a joke?  Then I saw his shoulders quickly move up and down as he laughed at his own joke. 

“Nice.” I said.  I sat down behind him and put my hands on his shoulders.

“Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.”  We took off in a flash.  I smiled as I looked around to see everything fly back.  And just as Din had said, the kid had his hands in the air laughing.

[kaydeedums]

What Do You Think About The Farmer? (Stardew Valley) (4/6)

Ship: Haley x Female Farmer Also on: AO3 (https://archiveofourown.org/works/63275293/chapters/162084325) [Chapter 4: 9 out of 11]

“What do I think about the farmer? Let’s see…” It wasn't originally on her list, but whenever she wanted to vent (Consider Alex had horrible memory) she'd go to her bestfriend.

Alex put down his weights with a soft thud, rolling his shoulders before rubbing his chin in thought. A thoughtful smirk played on his lips as he leaned back against his drawer, crossing his arms over his chest, shamelessly trying to flex himself in front of Haley.

"She’s a great listener—resilient too. The kind of person who just gets you, you know?" He nodded to himself before flashing a grin. "I think she’s a great partner."

Haley’s eyes nearly bulged out of her skull. " WHAT?! " 

Her voice echoed throughout the house, thank Yoba his grandparents have trouble hearing or else they would’ve been scolded by now. Alex blinked, then chuckled at her reaction. Alex teased, clearly amused. "You didn’t know?" Haley scoffed, placing her hands on her hips. "Do I look like I knew?! Because I definitely wouldn’t have reacted like that if I did!"

Alex shrugged, completely unbothered, grabbing a towel to wipe the sweat off of him. "Her grandfather used to be friends with my grandparents, it’s only natural that we get along together.” Haley opened her mouth, then shut it again, her brows furrowing in frustration. She hated how casual he was about this. How could they have kept this from her? Was she reading everything wrong? Was there even a point in asking around if this was what she was going to get? She hesitated before pressing further. "So, like... what happened between the two of you?"

Alex smirked, tilting his head back slightly as if recalling a fond memory. "Well, for one, I pick up deliveries from her farm sometimes. This one time, she was struggling to carry a whole load of produce to the bin—seriously, she looked like she was about to collapse." He chuckled at the thought. "She practically begged me to help her out. So, being the hero that I am, I stepped in and saved the day. After that? History." 

Haley’s stomach twisted slightly at his casual tone. It was the way he said it—like they had some established bond she had no clue about. She swallowed before asking hesitantly, “S-So… How long have you two been dating?”

The football player blinks, “Dating?”

The blonde stiffened. “...You’re not?”

Alex snorted. "What? No way. We’re just sort of gym buddies. Minus the gym, of course." Haley let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding. Oh. That was… somehow relieving. "She comes here to work out every now and then since she was struggling with her farm chores. She needed the strength—chopping trees, breaking rocks, carrying loads of crops? That stuff takes a serious toll on your body."

Haley crossed her arms. "She’s still so tiny. Wouldn’t she have, like, grown by now?"

Alex scratched the back of his head. "I guess all the work wears her down, but when she’s in her gym attire, you can tell she’s well-built."

Alex scratched the back of his head. "I mean, yeah, she’s small, but that doesn’t mean she’s weak. When she first got here, she could barely lift forty kilograms. But now?" He smirked, leaning forward slightly, voice dropping as if sharing a secret. "You should see her abs—"

"OKAY, I THINK THAT’S ENOUGH!" Haley’s hands shot up, frantically waving him off before he could finish. Her face was burning slightly at the idea of Alex of all people describing the farmer’s body in that much detail. He gets to see it every week? For Free? Alex just laughed, grabbing his towel and tossing it over his shoulder. "What? You asked." The shorter woman groaned, pressing her palms against her temples. 

“If we’re being real,” Alex begins, “Don’t get me wrong I respect the honesty from her, but if she did like guys in the first place, I probably would’ve tried to shoot my shot, anyone would’ve been lucky to have her—Not just because of her appearance, but because she’s a pretty great person overall.” He finishes exiting his room to grab himself a drink. Haley sits on the edge of Alex’s bed, pondering to herself. 

What was she even doing? She had gone into this expecting to have her feelings validated —to hear someone complain, to find a single person in town who didn’t like the farmer. But instead?

Everyone she talked to respected her. Admired her. Liked her. And now she was left wondering why she didn’t want to. For the first time, she wasn’t sure if she had a real answer. Haley was starting to feel hopeless. 

Haley was going to lose her mind.

This was supposed to be a simple afternoon. She had been in her darkroom, carefully developing some film to get her mind off that unproductive conversation. Being alone in her secret room was a safe place for her, the single red bulb illuminating the tiny room gave her some solitude from the outside world’s ever-bizarre happenings.

“Delivery!” Then lo and behold the farmer—who conveniently had an order—wandered in. Oh Yoba, please don’t make your way here.

The door swings open, the farmer’s head sticking out from the other side “Hey Haley, I saw a chair leaning against the frame, so I figured you’d be here.” She fully enters the room, “Do you happen to know where your sister is? I got like a box of Survival Burgers in here.” “DON’T CLOSE THE DOOR-”

Then, because the universe hated them, the wind had slammed the door shut behind them.

And now they were trapped. In complete darkness.

"Great." Haley groaned, pressing her back against the nearest wall. "Just perfect." She heard the farmer jiggle the doorknob. "Uh…" They let out a sheepish chuckle. "It’s locked."

"No kidding!" She snapped. "This door automatically locks from the outside, genius! That’s why I always keep it propped open!" The farmer gulped nervously. "So… what now?"

"Now, we wait for Emily to realize we’re missing." Haley crossed her arms. "Or for me to die of boredom—whichever happens first." She sat herself on one of the clear desks in defeat, with the farmer trying to follow suit. The darkroom was tiny, shelves and tables took up most of the space, leaving barely enough room for two people. Every time she moved, her arm or shoulder brushed against the farmer.

Which was infuriating. Because now she was hyper-aware of how close they were. “Can you stop fucking moving!?” And it got worse when the farmer shifted, too. “I’m trying not to!” Then suddenly—they were face to face. Haley froze.

Even in the dim red glow of the safety light, she could see them. The way their eyes caught the light, reflecting warmth and curiosity. The way their sweat were scattered across their cheeks like tiny stars. The way their lips parted slightly, like they were about to say something—

Haley's eyes scanned the physique of the person in front of her. Her mind wandered back the Alex's comment about how the farmer looked like under all that baggy clothing, her stomach flipped as she feels herself get a little heated at the idea.

Oh. Oh no.

"Uh…" The farmer blinked. "You okay?" Haley realized she had been staring for way too long.

There was a thud from outside. Haley nearly jumped, but then— "Haley?" Emily’s muffled voice came from the other side of the door. "Why’s this locked?"

"Oh, thank Yoba—Emily, OPEN THIS DAMN DOOR!" There was a brief pause. "Why is the farmer there with you?" She must've seen her straw hat outside the room.

"JUST OPEN THE DOOR!" Haley repeated, after a moment, the lock clicked, and the door swung open. Cool air rushed in, and Haley shoved past the farmer before Emily could say anything else. She refused to acknowledge the way her pulse still hadn’t settled. And she definitely refused to acknowledge how pretty the farmer looked in that soft red light.

[pigeonwhumps]

The storm wasn't that bad.

That's your first thought, when you see the roof of the barn. Or at least, what's left of it. You're glad, suddenly, that you haven't gotten round to doing anything with it yet.

But still. You thought it was the wind playing havoc again, the smashing sound. And maybe it was. But there's a hole in your ceiling like something crashed through and you should probably check that out.

Probably.

After all, you remember what your father's friend's neighbour's nephew claimed happened to him two years ago. Granted he'd been drunk as a skunk at the time, but still.

Still.

You pick up a pitchfork (why is that just lying around, anyway? You should sort that out soon, before it all rusts) and pick your way through storm damage to the barn. You poke your head inside the mostly-intact door (and isn't that weird, that the doors would be like that with such a hole in the roof).

You pull your head back out again.

Shake it a little.

Blink.

That can't be real.

Maybe you whacked your head on the (far too low, it's ridiculous) doorframe harder than you thought.

You peer back in. No, still there.

Okay. Okay, right. Fine. There's a winged... something in your shed. With golden and... and acidic blood. That's... that's fine. Normal, even. Totally.

Did you drink some of your father's friend's neighbour's nephew's homemade dandelion wine without realising it?

No. No, that's ridiculous. You're not prone to hallucinations when drunk, anyway.

Certainly not ones of sprawling... giants, is all you can think of to call it (them? Hell if you know). Its wings are bent in ways you know for sure they shouldn't be, golden blood pouring out of a multitude of injuries to pool, sizzling, on the soil and remains of last year's hay.

Okay. Right. Right. You're not sure what to do, but... you can't just leave it there. Can you? No. No, that wouldn't be right.

Before the creature can wake, lash out with its sharp claws or even sharper tail, like a cornered animal (which you suppose it is), you dash back to the house, grabbing the heavy-duty first aid kit. You stop as you're halfway through scrubbing your face, forcing yourself to wake up enough for this.

What do you even cover acidic wounds with? The blood will melt through normal bandages.

You have some acid- and chemical-resistant boots and gloves, somewhere, that your father left behind. That'll protect you. But what about the creature?

This is mad. It's all mad. No-one could blame you if you left it. Except somehow... you can't. You can't just leave it alone.

You guess the acid is probably burning the creature's skin. That has to hurt. You have a hose around here somewhere.

Actually, you think it might be in the barn. You hope the creature didn't burn through that, too.

You have a spare pair of acid-resistant gloves around here somewhere. If you cut them up, they won't be comfortable, but they might do in a pinch.

You shrug, grab them, and head out of the house. It's worth a try.

You're louder this time. You figure there's no point in being quiet, you'll need to wake the creature up to treat it anyway. When you enter the barn, stomping in your too-large boots, the creature lifts its head weakly.

Those golden-acid cuts adorn its face as well, and you make a mental note to treat those first. It looks at you with sharp, weary intelligence in its eyes, and a cattle-like tag on its ear.

"Ouch. Where you from, buddy?"

The creature rears back at this, or tries to, spitting venomously at you. You duck, raising your hands and dropping your kit.

"Easy, bud. Easy. I'm not..." you gesture, "them. You just crashed through my barn roof. Can you understand me? I got their language but I ain't them."

The creature snarls and growls.

"Tha's a no then. Come on, lemme help. No? Then I'll wait."

And you do. You're not sure who the "them" you referred to are, but they've clearly done a number on the poor devil, and you're not going to just let it die, out of spite if nothing else.

Eventually, the creature tires, and you step forward, hosepipe in hand. It looks up at you resignedly.

"Come on, don't be like that. I gotta treat your injuries, bud, gonna stop the burning. Hold still."

And it must be something in your tone of voice, or maybe it's just given up, but the creature, miraculously, turns into practically a statue. It's a bit unnerving.

"Er– good. Right." You try to make it hurt as little as possible as you run the hose over most of the creature's body, taking the time and a lot of both of your energy to turn it over too, but you still catch the flinches and hitches of breath as the jet of water hits wounds you can't see.

"Sorry, bud."

You dry each wound carefully, after that, running several cloths over the bitingly-cold skin, and cut up the gloves. God, you really hope they last. There's just enough material if you cut it close, and just enough tape.

It occurs to you that its skin is probably adapted to survive being coated in acidic blood. But hey. You need to see the wounds properly to treat them, and a little cleaning can't help.

What has someone done to such a creature? It's an abomination, and you're not talking about the creature itself.

"I'll leave the tag for now," you decide in a murmur, aware that there are more immediate problems. "Wing splints. Right. Wing splints." Okay, so they're a lot larger, but you've done them on other birds. Pigeons and chickens and hawks and the like. Surely they must be similar?

"Your wings," you murmur as you get close enough to gently touch, "are gorgeous."

They shimmer gold and silver, and not golden blood, golden feathers, with an iridescent red-pink sheen towards the scapula. Not a colour you'd see in natural birds but so beautiful. No wonder someone captured it.

It seems such an evil thing to do to a creature such as this.

You splint the wings carefully. You're not going to hurt it. Not any more than you have to, at any rate. It glares at you with one golden eye. Only then do you notice the friction burns around its nose, looping towards its ears.

"Jesus." It flinches. "Hush. Rest. Not gonna hurt you, bud. Oh actually, wait a minute."

You rush out. Somewhere near the back door is a blue and white striped fabric tarpaulin. It's a bit faded, frayed and muddy, hasn't been used for years, no-one's gotten around to cleaning it for years either, but it's all you have. It's not like your usual blankets will fit, and the sofa covers... it would take multiple, and okay, maybe you don't want to end up with your grandmother's quilt eaten by acid. You feel a bit guilty but it's true.

The creature's shivering when you return to the barn. That's... that's probably a good thing, right? At least it means it doesn't have hypothermia.

"Okay, hey, hang on. Let me just– right. I hope this'll keep you warm." You drape the tarpaulin– blanket– whatever this now is over the creature, making sure to cover as much of the extremities that aren't already tucked under its body as possible.

There's an alarmed chirp at first, and then it curls its tail under the tarpaulin, humming. Its body starts rumbling, like a jet engine getting ready for take-off, and you startle backwards, but then you realise, and smile slightly.

It sounds so much like a purr.

Everything taglist: @painful-pooch @i-eat-worlds @a-funeral-romance

When whumpee flee from their captivity but, because of their physical and mental state, they collapse in the middle of a forest and are found by a complete stranger that turns out to take care of them even not knowing a single thing of who they are and why they were in that state.

[stevieschrodinger]

Part One Part Six

Steve wakes with a start, yelping and then immediately panicking when the bed covers feel constricting – it passes almost immediately when he realizes where he is and what woke him.

“Hi Eddie,” Steve sighs, blinking the rest of the way awake. He rubs at his crusty eyes, the bedside clock glowing three forty seven at him. Great. “What’s up buddy?”

“Stee,” Eddie says quietly, like he somehow understands the sanctity of the middle of the night, “ow. Dead later,” and then he makes a noise like a fly buzzing. Or a bee. It’s a fair attempt at a gentle ‘bzzzz’ing noise.

Steve sighs, “okay buddy lets go.”

Eddie turns at the top of the stairs and goes down them on his butt, which Steve’s pretty sure he would find amusing if he wasn’t half asleep and half annoyed.

The ground outside is cold enough that Steve hisses when his bare foot hits it, and he does a silly hopping jog to follow Eddie onto the lawn. It is a bee, and it’s moving sluggish and confused on the grass. The weathers getting colder, the time of year plus...probably it’s old?

Steve knows fuck all about bees, but he’s pretty sure individual bees don’t live for that long, and that maybe they sort of hibernate in the winter? Or something? Isn’t that what all of that honey is for?

Maybe they could bring it into the warm and give it some sugar water or something, Steve’s pretty sure he’s heard that from someone, somewhere along the line, “okay little bee guy, here we go.” Steve uses a finger to encourage the fuzzy bee onto his hand.

Steve stands; there’s very faint, and probably first of the year, patches of frost on Eddie’s tent. It hasn’t formed anywhere else, so it’s probably not that bad yet, but still, it’s chilly enough that Steve hops back across the lawn with some urgency.

In the kitchen, Steve says, “here Eddie, you take him,” and transfers the bee into Eddie’s cupped hands. He mixes a tiny mount of sugar water in the bottom of a glass, with no idea at all if it’ll help or not. The bee should probably be asleep, right? Steve can’t remember ever seeing a bee at night, so he assumes they go to bed like sensible bees.

Steve drops a tiny bit of the sugary mixture onto Eddie’s palm, right in front of the bee’s face; he drinks it, so Steve does it again. “Okay, I think we should all try and get some sleep. Eddie, you want to sleep on the couch?”

“Sleep on the couch.”

“Yeah,” Steve rubs his arms, making ‘brrrr’ing noises and generally pretending he’s in arctic conditions. He points to the door, “cold outside. Warm here.”

Eddie cocks his head, but seems to get it, so Steve takes the bee, setting it dead center on a couch cushion, and goes back to bed.

Steve wakes again at a much more normal time; blinking at the nine thirty now on his clock and thinking that is way, way better. He wonders vaguely if the bee lived, but he doubts it. Eddie will probably be sad about it; like the bird.

If that was even sadness; if Eddie even understands the concept of death. Steve has no way to know what Eddie thinks about it.

He heads downstairs; vaguely planning his day. He needs a coffee and some breakfast, then get ready; they probably need some groceries. Working opposite shifts to Robin really sucks; he hasn’t seen her once yet this week. They talk on the phone though, and she swears she's working on Keith. He should check when he goes in later for a day they both have off so they can hang out; if such a thing even exists.

Maybe the kids will come over for a movie night; Steve does now have unfettered access to all the newest releases...and is it sad that Steve’s lonely enough that he wants to invite over that bunch of mongrels? Maybe, he’s not going to think to much about it.

Steve sets the coffee going then heads into the lounge; Eddie’s curled up into a tight ball, his spine bent at a really fucking weird angle and his tail wrapped around himself; Steve knows then that he’s never seen Eddie sleep before, because he’s definitely never seen whatever the hell is happening here. It’s like a cat. Or a snake, maybe. The way he’s all curled up tight on himself; makes Steve’s back hurt just looking at him.

At the other end of the couch is the sad, still, little body of the bee. Steve stares at it, listening to the faint noise from the kitchen; the coffee pot gurgles a little.

Eddie blinks awake, unwrapping himself.

“Morning Eddie.”

“Morning Stee,” Eddie blinks sadly at the bee, and then, very gently, leans over and nudges it with a claw tip, “dead?”

“Yeah buddy, I’m sorry. But at least he was comfortable, right? Warm and...sugared up.”

Eddie hums noncommittally, watching as Steve scoops up the bee and following him into the kitchen. Steve very nearly puts the bee in the trash can, but veers off at the last moment. It feels a little wrong, throwing the little dude out; he also doesn’t know what Eddie would thinks and feels vaguely like Eddie might...judge him.

Steve heads outside and deposits him in a plant pot instead. When he comes back in, Eddie’s raiding the fridge, “pear inied. Grapes inied. Celery inied.”

Steve sighs, “I know buddy, I’m sorry. I’ll go and get more, okay?” Steve goes out to the freezer in the garage and comes back with a whole bag of frozen peas, and that seems to completely make up for it. He pours Eddie a bowl of peas, and himself a bowl of cereal, sticking a spoon in both. He downs the coffee so he doesn’t have to make two trips.

“Couch, TV?”

Eddie nods, following Steve. Eddie turns on the TV since Steve’s hands are full, and they sit side by side on the couch, Eddie very carefully using his spoon.

“Called?”

“It’s a toothbrush.”

Eddie watches from his seat on the floor next to Steve; he’s high enough to easily lean his elbows on the counter top.

“Why?”

And ‘called?’ Steve can handle all day long, but ‘why?’ has rapidly become a tricky thing to navigate.

“To clean.” Steve grins big as he can, clicking his teeth together, “teeth.”

“Teeth,” Eddie snaps back, then turns to the mirror, clicking his teeth at himself. “Eddidie clean teeth?”

Steve snorts a laugh, and Eddie looks at him, tilting his head but smiling too. Steve figures that a solid ninety five percent of the time, Eddie’s just happy to be involved.

“Okay buddy I think I have…” Steve rummages in the cupboard under the sink, “ah ha!”

“Ah ha!”

“Here you go,” Steve unwraps the new toothbrush, really, really fucking glad it’s a different color to his own. “Steve’s is blue, Eddie’s is purple.”

“Purple.”

“You got it buddy,” Steve wets the bristles of both, and then puts the tiniest little dab of toothpaste on Eddie’s before putting the proper amount on his own.

“Here you go.” Steve hands it over, and then Starts brushing his teeth. Eddie holds his own brush, watching Steve closely in the mirror before attempting it himself. His movements are slow and cautious, be he definitely gets the idea.

Steve rinses his brush under the water, leaving it running as Eddie does the same. Eddie has no trouble dropping his toothbrush into the cup next to Steve’s.

Eddie explores the bath next; all this shit must have been here when Eddie spent a night in the tub, but Steve was beaten to hell and still a little fucking high on Russian truth serum when all that was going on, so he honestly doesn’t really remember much of those first couple of days. “Called?”

“Shampoo. It’s to clean hair,” Steve tugs on his hair to demonstrate, “hair.”

“Eddidie clean hair?”

“Uh. I mean, if you want to?”

Eddie gets the cap open, squeezing the bottle carefully and sniffing the hole, “good.”

Steve’s current shampoo smells like apples, and Steve realizes what’s going to happen just as it’s too late to stop Eddie from sticking his tongue out.

Eddie smacks his lips together, looking truly disgusted, “fucking gross.”

“Hey! Language!” Steve takes the bottle from a grinning Eddie. He looks so pleased with himself Steve can’t stay mad, “damn kids,” he sighs. Eddie definitely got that one from Max, the little reprobate. “Okay, if we’re going to do this, in the tub.”

Eddie points, “in?”

“Yup.”

Eddie manages it, hoisting himself up and the flicking his tail and sliding his ass over the edge, “Eddidie in tub.”

“You got it buddy,” Steve takes the shower head down, pointing it away from Eddie while it warms up, then moving it a little onto his tail, “feel okay?”

“Warm,” Eddie reaches out to feel the water, “good.”

“Okay, here we go then.”

Eddie sits patiently, head tilted back as Steve wets his hair down and then adds the shampoo. Eddie’s hair is thick, like, insanely thick, and it takes a bit for Steve to work the lather in. The individual strands are thick too, coarse and a little wiry. The back of Eddie’s scalp feels strange too, like his skull had ridges on it; lines that all join together right at the back of Eddie’s head. You’d never be able to see it through his hair.

Steve goes through half a bottle of conditioner on him, but Eddie sits patiently through all of it, flicking his fingers through the water, even when Steve combs it through and catches on snags, Eddie’s doesn’t complain at all. He tilts his head back easily when Steve directs him to, “okay, nearly finished.”

Once they’re done, Eddie climbs out of the bath and onto a towel, sitting on the floor while Steve dries his hair; he gets the idea and dries his arms and torso himself. Steve’s so used to looking at him that he doesn’t find the lack of belly button and nipples at all odd any more. Just looks normal. Looks like Eddie.

“Okay buddy, just let me grab a shower, and then you can help me write a grocery list,” Eddie follows Steve into the bedroom, watching as Steve grabs clothes before heading for his shower. Steve clicks the lock on just in case; Eddie’s not exactly worked out stuff like boundaries or personal space yet.

When Steve comes out, Eddie’s waiting patiently, sitting on the edge of Steve’s bed, wearing his yellow sweater.

Part Eight

[h0tchner]

go team hotchner!

pairing: dad!aaron hotchner x fem!reader

summary: aaron is coaching jack’s soccer game & reader is in the crowd! aaron & reader are happily married, but another woman’s mean comments and blatant flirting makes the reader jealous. fluffy shenanigans ensue!

word count: 2.5k

includes: FLUFF, jack hotchner is the sweetest, you & aaron are married, jealous!reader, kissing, family planning, & AARON IN A GREY T-SHIRT

rating: 18+ (for VERY brief mentions of sex and a little smidge of cursing)

a/n: i wrote this for @ssahotchswife​’s soft hotch saturday! this is my first published fic, so i hope y’all enjoy. PLS (!!!!!!!!!!!) interact if you liked this, rb, comment, like and/or send me a request if you have ideas for future fics! i love y’all! - rivka💞

“Atta boy, Jack!” Aaron yells from the side of the field, clapping his hands as his son scores another goal.

Beaming, you holler from the benches along with the crowd. You watch as your husband jogs up and down the sidelines with ease, keeping up with Jack’s soccer team. It’s a stunning Saturday morning and you are thrilled to spend every moment of it with the Hotchner boys. Your Hotchner boys.

When they asked Aaron to coach the team, how could he say no? After losing Hayley, he promised himself that he would do everything in his power to be there for Jack. When you first started dating, Aaron was hesitant to introduce you to his son. It wasn’t because he didn’t want you in Jack’s life, but rather he didn’t want to scare you away. You were a 26-year-old NCIS agent and he was a 40-something FBI agent. You knew he had a son, you knew he was a widow, and you knew he was older than you: but you didn’t care. You loved him. It took a little coaxing to get Aaron to open up to you about his fears, but once he did, you assured him then and there that you weren’t going anywhere. He introduced you to Jack the very same day. Four years later, you and Aaron are stronger than ever.

The ref blows the whistle, calling a break. Aaron motions for the kids to huddle in. He squats on the floor to get on their level, enthusiastically whispering, walking them through the next play. Your heart swells watching him talk to the group of children. Aaron Hotchner, always the hero, the role-model, the leader. Gentle yet powerful: he was intoxicating.

Your eyes dart over his crouched figure; the soft, heather grey of his t-shirt clings to his broad shoulders. You draw in a breath, a memory of last night flooding your senses, remembering how you held on to those shoulders for dear life as he pounded you into the bed. You feel your cheeks blush red, and you look up to the sky, shutting your eyes to collect yourself. Damn. Even just the thought of touching him gets your blood up.

You open your eyes, letting your gaze travel back to Aaron’s body, admiring how good his butt looks in those black Adidas track pants. You bite your lip a bit, feeling overwhelmed with joy, knowing that beautiful man, inside and out, was all yours. God, what you wanted to do to...

“Damn he is HOT. Way hotter than the old coach. I think his son is on the team?” A woman’s voice rings out from behind you.

“Yeah, I think so. Did you hear what happened to his first wife? So sad, lost her when his son was little. Apparently he’s shacked up with some 20-something-year-old now.” A second woman’s voice chimes in.

“No way. Him? Married to that? He needs a real woman, not some child. A man that experienced should be with someone his own age. I’m gonna talk to him after the game, see what his deal is.” The first woman replies, voice dripping with venom.

“I think you should!” Agrees the second.

“Oh, I will. I’ll make him an offer he can’t refuse.” Snickers the first.

They both laugh as you sit frozen in your seat, blinded by a wave of anger and sadness.

Some child? Someone his own age? Their hurtful words pierce right through your heart as you furiously blink back tears.

The ref blows the whistle, and the team scatters back onto the field. The ladies cheer behind you as the game starts back up. It takes all your strength not to break down under the crushing weight of their conversation. You take in some deep breaths, mulling over their comments. You weren’t “some child!” You were a grown-ass woman! You had a job! You were a federal agent! You loved Aaron and Jack: they were your whole world!

As you continue to give yourself a mental pep-talk, the hurt begins to dissipate as you realize how stupid those woman sounded. They didn’t even know you, or Aaron, or anything about your relationship. In that moment, you tell yourself that instead of wallowing in self-doubt, you would stand up to them and make it known that you were the only one for Aaron.

Just like that: you begin to feel a bit better. You focus all your attention on Aaron and Jack, letting the game fly by. You ignore the ladies gossiping behind you, and, by the time the kids are lining up to give the other team high-fives, you had pulled yourself together and come up with a plan to put these ladies right back in their place. You just had to wait for the right time to make your move.

“Wish me luck!” squeals the first woman. You can feel her getting up from the bleachers behind you.

“Go get him, girl!” sasses the second.

You watch as the woman walks down the aisle, her straight blonde ponytail swishing as she goes. She’s wearing blue-jean shorts and a white lace top: an outfit you’ve seen before on a hundred women who looked just like her. In any other circumstance you’d applaud her efforts (girls supporting girls, right?) but this was your man she had her sights on. No way. Not a chance. She wasn’t going to lay a single pink manicured finger on him.

Aaron is talking to the ref and the other team’s coach when she taps him on the shoulder.

Oh HELL no. You think, frowning.

He turns around and gives her a small, polite smile. You can’t hear the exchange, but after a few moments, she sticks out her hand to shake his, laughing. Aaron curtly returns the shake and turns back to finish up his prior conversation; but, this time, the blonde woman puts a hand on his arm again, lightly pulling him away. Your blood begins to boil. She gestures to the pack of kids, now getting drinks and snacks from the fold-up table next to the bleachers. Aaron nods, pointing over to where Jack is standing, sipping on some lemonade. She puts her hand on his arm again and tilts her head.

You decide it has been long enough. It’s go time.

You walk down the bleachers, picking up the hem of your baby blue floral sundress so you wouldn’t step on it as you descended.

The woman is still all over Aaron, clearly flirting. Aaron’s arms are crossed over his chest, lips in a terse smile. It didn’t take a profiler to know that his behaviour screamed “get me out of here.”

You fluff your hair a bit, letting it fall loosely around your face. With confidence, your feet hit the soft grass and you head towards your husband.

“Aaron!” you call out, waving and smiling as you near him, shooting daggers at the blonde woman by his side.

The moment he sees you approaching, you watch his entire demeanour change.

“Y/N!” he grins, excusing himself from the woman.

She whips around to face you with a vengeance as Aaron scoops you up, tanned arms firm around your middle. He spins you around as you laugh, surprised, looking down at him with pure elation.

He sets you down and, before you have a chance to say anything else, grabs your face in his hands, crashing his mouth into yours. You throw your arms around his neck and card your fingers in his hair, kissing him with the same fervour.

You can practically feel the adrenaline coursing through his veins. It’s hot and dominating: something about winning a game makes Aaron primal and giddy. You certainly aren’t complaining.

He breaks the kiss and lets his hands fall to your waist, squeezing lightly.

“Congrats on the win, Coach Hotchner.” You smile as you brush a lock of sweaty black hair off his forehead.

“Couldn’t have done it without my favourite cheerleader, Mrs. Hotchner.” He winks, pressing a light kiss to your forehead.

“Oh yeah?” You prod, cocking your head, looking into his gorgeous hazel eyes. “Who would that be?”

“Hm.” He pauses, looking up pensively.

He wraps his arms even tighter around your middle and dips his head down, whispering one word in your ear: “You.”

You laugh, swaying with him for a moment, capturing his lips in another kiss. As you pull apart, out of the corner of your eye you watch as the blonde woman stands frozen to the same spot, mouth agape. You smirk, feeling satisfied and self-assured knowing your little scheme was a success.

Then, like a rocket, you see Jack running towards you with a mile-wide grin on his flushed face.

“Y/N! Did you see? Did you see me make two goals?” Jack exclaims.

“Yeah buddy, I saw the whole thing!” You capture him in a bear hug, kissing the top of his head. You ruffle his hair and kneel down, looking into his soft brown eyes.

“I’m so proud of you. Did you have fun?”

“Yeah! I love soccer!” Jack nods.

“You did a great job Jack.” Aaron says, helping you stand. He wraps an arm around your waist and looks lovingly down at his son.

“You’re our soccer superstar.” You add, glancing between Jack and Aaron with unbridled joy. “Now go! Go back to your friends!” You laugh, shooing him away, back to the group of sweaty 8-year-olds and their snacks.

You stand there with Aaron, snaking your arm around his back to match his around yours. You both watch as Jack bounds off. A quick glance to the side shows that the blonde woman is long gone, probably stomping back up to her friend to whine and call you more names.

“Is she gone?” Aaron murmurs into your hair, pressing a gentle kiss to the side of your head.

You stutter, “How... how did you?” You trail off in disbelief.

“Oh please,” he smirks, “I had to stop you from practically biting her head off when you walked over.”

“Aaron!” you yelp, mocking upset. “You should’ve let me at her.”

He chuckles, lips twitching into a smile as he quirks one eyebrow up. “I couldn’t have my wife fighting with the aunt of one of my players. It’d reflect poorly on me.”

“She called me a child. Said that you should be with someone your own age. I think that warrants a free pass.”

His joking manner stops abruptly at your declaration. “That’s ridiculous and you know it,” he furrows his brow, shaking his head lightly.

You reach up and run your fingers over his scrunched forehead, soothing the lines into something softer.

“I know,” you nod.

Aaron pulls you into his side, wordless. Fingers tracing lightly over your hip. You knew he was thinking the same thing: no matter what they said, you knew in your heart that you and Aaron were meant to be. Age be damned. He was yours and you were his: forever. Simple as that.

“Mmm,” you sigh, taking in the beauty of the moment. You smile at the clear sky, the fresh air, and the feeling of the man you loved, right by your side. You two watch Jack as he talks and laughs with the other kids. He looks so happy to be surrounded by them: a natural conversationalist. You can’t help but start to think about how he would be the best big brother in the whole world. It makes your breath hitch in your throat a bit.

“What is it?” Aaron gives your side a squeeze.

Of course he could sense when your thoughts began to wander. Aaron was a man of many talents.

“Oh, it’s nothing.” You look up at him with a reassuring glance, returning the squeeze.

“Y/N...” Aaron trails off, hazel-brown eyes searing into yours.

Damn your gaze, Hotchner.

You look away, letting your arm drop from his waist and move to step away a bit: he grabs for your hand instinctively, keeping you next to him. His big hands engulf your small ones, fingers entwined.

You know he is still staring at you, but you can’t bring yourself to look at him yet. Your eyes refocus on Jack.

“I was... I was thinking,” you begin. “I love you. I love you so much, no matter what anybody else says. And I love Jack like he’s my own.”

You breathed in, prepping yourself mentally for what you were about to say next.

“Jack is so good with other kids.” You continue, “He loves being social, being a teammate.”

You gather the strength to meet your husband’s famous glare.

“And watching you coach these kids? You’re so good with them, Aaron. You make every one of them feel special. You give 110% of your heart, and I am so lucky to be your co-coach in life.” You tell him in earnest.

“Aaron,” you carry on, emboldened, “I think it’s time we added a new member to the Hotchner team” you finish, searching every inch of Aaron’s face for recognition.

You watch as he takes in the information. After a few beats, it clicks.

“Y/N,” his expression softens, “Do you want to have a baby?”

You bite your lip and nod, eyes wide and hopeful.

Aaron nearly explodes with happiness; his eyes crinkle as he smiles down at you, unable to speak. And then, his warm body envelopes yours, solid but soft: unmistakably Aaron.

You let out a shaky laugh and bury your head in his neck, breathing in the smell of cologne and light sweat.

He pulls back a little, one hand tilting your chin up to look at him.

“Oh my god, Y/N,” he shakes his head in disbelief.

“Does that mean yes?” you ask, in a small voice.

Aaron laughs again, letting out a sigh. He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, letting his hand linger on your cheek. You lean into his touch.

“Yes,” he says, giddy. “Let’s have a baby.”

The sound of children laughing fills your ears as you grab the back of his head and pull Aaron into a soft kiss. The kiss is full of promise: a gentle pact, sealing the deal. You and Aaron were going to have a baby. Jack was going to have a little brother or sister.

You pull away, arms still around his neck.

“I love you, Aaron.” You breathe out.

“I love you, Y/N.” He whispers back.

Nobody on this planet could shake the bond you and Aaron had. Suburban soccer moms be damned.

[chaos-burst]

one way or another (i’m gonna get you)

Dorian has a problem.

That problem is currently drunk off his ass and trying to balance one of Opal’s daggers on the tip of his nose. Of course he’s failing miserably, hitting himself in the eye with the blunt end twice thus far and maybe Dorian shouldn’t chuckle about it, but Dariax just keeps trying as Opal and Fearne edge him on.

“If you’re not careful you’ll stab your own eye out”, Orym says. He’s still nursing the same beer he started drinking an hour ago, probably to stay sober enough to stop any shenanigans that go too far.

“Oh, don’t worry about that, buddy. That already happened to me, like, three times, and I just healed it back together. No big deal.”

Dorian can see that Orym is at a loss for words.

“Dorian, do you think I can do it?”, Dariax calls over to him where he’s sitting, holding his lute and enjoying the warm evening breeze.

“Sure, Dariax. I’ll write a song about you if you do”, he says with an amused smile. Dorian tries to keep his smile from widening as Dariax beams at him and tries even harder.

All his life Dorian has been taught to be proper and well behaved—maybe that is why he feels drawn towards—well. Towards the group. The group that Dariax is also a part of and that Dorian definitely doesn’t feel drawn towards more than any of the others.

He starts moving his fingers mindlessly over the strings of his lute as Dariax stumbles backwards, falls over Opal’s outstretched legs and lands in her lap with the dagger clattering to the ground in front of them.

Dorian thinks about Dariax sitting on his lap, then he almost chokes on his own spit because so far Dariax hasn’t done anything even remotely appealing or attractive. He’s had shit on his beard, piss on his hands, he’s dirty and loud and so obnoxious.

But when he told Dorian that he’s the handsome one and that he’s just good at talking to people and whether Dorian wants some tips from him—Dorian was tempted. For a split second, he was thinking about Dariax offering to teach him how to flirt.

Because Dorian might be aware that he’s handsome, but he has exactly zero idea about how to flirt with people.

“Hey, Dorian! Do I still get a song?”, Dariax shouts, still half sitting in Opal’s lap.

“Sure, buddy. I’ll write you a song.”

“Cool! It’s a promise!”, Dariax says, thumbs up, a big grin on his handsome face.

There, Dorian can admit it.

Dariax is handsome. They’re all handsome. It’s really no big deal. Not at all.

Dorian tries not to think about what his parents would say about Dariax, because it’s completely irrelevant. It’s not like his parents will meet his friends, and especially not Dariax. Maybe he should go to bed and hope that come the next morning his circling thoughts will have stopped.

“Are you working on the song?”

Dorian blinks and turns his head, only to come face to face with Dariax who managed to get up from Opal’s lap and is now sitting right next to him, leaning way into Dorian’s personal space.

Dariax smells like ten different kinds of alcohol, leather and thankfully no bodily fluids, which is definitely an improvement. Dorian wishes that the fact that he’s seen this man with shit on his beard would dissuade his heart from beating a little faster every time Dariax grins at him.

Sadly his heart doesn’t care.

Neither does his stomach, which is currently doing all kinds of complicated gymnastics since Dariax invaded Dorian’s personal space.

“No. I don’t think I can concentrate in here while all that is going on”, Dorian says and gestures towards Opal who is now teaching Fearne how to do body shots.

“Aw, man. Can you play something? Something...hm. Something cool.”

“All my songs are cool, thank you very much!”

Dariax laughs.

“Yeah, okay, you’re not wrong there. You have a really beautiful voice, buddy. No wonder that goliath lady fell in love with you after like, three minutes!”

Dorian feels something that reminds him a lot of the feeling he gets when he’s falling or misses a step on some stairs. His heart starts doing an offensive little tumble and he clears his throat a little too loud as he leans out of Dariax’ space and clutches his lute as if his life depends on it.

“I don’t think I would know what to do if someone actually fell in love with me”, Dorian says with an embarrassingly shrill laugh and a second after the words have left his mouth he regrets them already.

“Aw, buddy, I told you—I can totally teach you a few tricks, you know? Just show you how to get real popular with the ladies. Or gents. Or people in general”, Dariax says and winks at him.

Dorian wishes he could turn into thin air. His cheeks feel very hot.

“I—uh. I don’t think that’s necessary. It’s not like I really have the time—“

Dariax snorts and raises his eyebrows.

“Oh, come on, Dorian. We’re just hanging out, right? If you wanna get laid, we have plenty of time for that. You should just relax a little more. Okay, so. What’s your type?”

Dorian stares at Dariax for almost thirty seconds before he clears his throat again.

“Uh. I—don’t. Well. Adventurous. Maybe—uh. Maybe brunettes?”

“Adventurous brunettes? That’s pretty vague, buddy. Just saying. Wait a second!”

Dariax leans closer again and puts his hand on Dorian’s shoulder. Then he does a terrible shout-whisper into Dorian’s ear that shouldn’t give him goosebumps but, fuck, it definitely does.

“Are you into Orym?”

Dorian blinks and turns his head to stare at Dariax who looks as if he just found out an earth-shattering secret through some careful investigation.

“N—no! No, he’s not. I mean, Orym is—fine? I don’t, uh—what I meant to say is... I don’t really know what my type is”, he ends lamely.

Of course Dariax feels the need to put an arm around Dorian now.

“Don’t worry, buddy. We’ll get you laid in no time. You have a pretty face and voice and all that, pretty sure that’ll go easy peasy.”

“That’s really not—“

“Hey guys, what are you whispering about?”, Opal shouts.

“We’re trying to figure out what Dorian’s type is to get him laid!”, Dariax shouts back.

“No, that’s not—“

“Ohh! Interesting! You don’t have a type? Did you never have a relationship before? Wait—are you like, a virgin?”

Dorian abruptly gets up from his chair. He’s definitely not drunk enough for this.

“I’m going to bed”, he says and leaves the room in a hurry, ignoring the disappointed shouts of his new friends following him outside.

*

Dorian hopes that his friends have forgotten the whole thing about supposedly getting him laid and about how Dariax intends to teach him flirting. But unfortunately the universe decides to not do him this favor.

Suddenly, every remotely attractive person they pass invokes a whole litany of questions.

Opal, Fearne and Dariax want to know everything. Which height, body-type, eye color, temperament, and style of clothing does he like? Does he prefer any genders to others? On six different occasions, Dariax tries to wingman Dorian into asking random strangers on dates.

Dorian is so desperate that he considers just telling them that he actually has someone back home, just so they will leave him alone.

It wouldn’t be the first lie he told.

Dorian feels a pang of guilt for lying about his name to these people who keep fighting alongside him.

Orym, bless his soul, is the only person who doesn’t partake in these interrogations and at some point, after Opal had asked Dorian if he was more into “tits or asses” Orym had quietly stated that “he deserves his privacy, you guys”.

Dorian has no idea if he’s a “tits or asses” kinda guy.

But Dorian just can’t stop thinking about the way Dariax’ voice sounded when it lilted “Man, you have the prettiest fucking eyes I’ve ever seen” the last time they were drunk.

It seems weirdly typical and ridiculous that Dorian has to have his first crush on the most chaotic man he ever met.

Dorian wishes he could forget about those damn words, just like everything that happened in their first week.

“You know”, Orym says to him two nights after that cursed conversation as they’re making their way further south towards Byroden, “if you told them to stop in earnest, I think they would respect that.”

The landscape is a carpet of green, sloping hills, rolling fields that lie bare now that winter is closing in around them. The sky is blue and cloudless and as they talk their breath puffs up in front of their faces and vanishes shortly after.

Dorian looks at Orym and then pointedly turns his gaze at Opal and Dariax, who started making a list of their findings regarding Dorian’s type.

“You sure?”, he says with one eyebrow raised.

Orym looks at least as pained as Dorian feels right now.

“I see your point. But they’re not—you know. Not bad people, I guess. I don’t think they want to hurt you.”

“Well, they’re not hurting me, they’re annoying me to death!”

Orym pats him on the back in a way that is so pitiful, Dorian can hardly take it.

“I wouldn’t usually encourage lying, but maybe you could just make up a girlfriend. Or boyfriend. Or—“

“What if I just tell them that you’re my type”, Dorian interrupts and Orym blinks at him.

“Uh—“

“No offense, you’re not. Not that you’re not handsome or anything, I just. Well—“

“It’s fine”, Orym says with a snort and shakes his head with a disbelieving smile. “You don’t have to fuss about it. You’re also very handsome but not my type.”

Dorian tries not to be offended after the last kick to his ego in Gilmore’s shop and clears his throat.

“Okay, so. What about it? Will you be my—I don’t know. My fake boyfriend?”

“No.”

“Oh, come on, Orym, I’m desperate here!”

“I will not be swept up in all of that. I still think you should just try to talk to them.”

Dorian feels betrayed and huffs, but he doesn’t press the issue any further. It’s probably going to be fine, he thinks. That is, until Dariax walks up to him, grins up at him cheekily and bumps his elbow into Dorian’s side.

“So. Are you finally ready to admit it?”, Dariax asks.

There is a glint in his eyes that Dorian can’t quite read.

“Admit what?”, he asks, already dreading the answer.

“That you have the hots for Orym!”

Dorian stares down at Dariax, the man he, so, so very unfortunately has “the hots for” and sighs deeply.

“You caught me”, he says with a gravelly voice. “I have the hots for Orym.”

“I knew it!”, Dariax shouts, then catches himself and turns his voice into a whisper instead. “I fucking knew it!”

Dorian massages his temple.

Maybe becoming an adventurer was a terrible idea. Maybe he shouldn’t have come here. He could make a name for himself somewhere else. The Menagerie coast is supposed to be lovely all year around.

“Okay, don’t worry, buddy. I gotcha. I’ll keep your secret, won’t even tell the girls at all. And you know what, because we’re such great friends I have a special offer just for you”, Dariax says and leans in even closer to Dorian, who has to lean down significantly.

“And what offer is that?”, Dorian asks with a sigh, resigning himself to his fate. At least Orym knows that Dorian isn’t actually attracted to him, so, he thinks, this can’t possibly get any worse.

“I should totally be your fake boyfriend so you can make him jealous.”

Dorian stares at Dariax.

Dariax stares back with the proudest grin on his handsome face.

The universe is trying to punish him. For whatever reason, it must have decided to make Dorian the butt of a cosmic joke. That’s the only explanation for all of this.

“I don’t think that’s—“

“It’s perfect! Don’t worry, I have experience with this sort of stuff, just lemme handle this.”

Dariax winks at Dorian and then grabs his hand to intertwine their fingers.

“Hey guys”, he calls as he pulls Dorian along who follows helplessly, his heart stumbling in his chest as his consciousness zooms in on the feeling of Dariax’ hand in his, “guess what. I should’ve clocked it all along, but of course it makes perfect sense! Check it out!”

And as Orym, Opal and Fearne turn their heads, Dariax raises their intertwined fingers and beams at the others.

“Wait…��, Orym starts slowly, his brow furrowed in confusion, “what…?”

“Too late, Orym. He’s my boyfriend now”, Dariax says and Dorian wishes that the wind would just pick him up and carry him away.

*

Dorian has to say something.

He can’t, under any circumstances, keep this up.

He is sitting—and gods, his heart is beating so terribly fast—on Dariax’ lap.

Dariax had insisted on it and now his muscular arms are wound around Dorian’s waist as if this is the most normal thing in the world. For someone who doesn’t actually have to breathe to survive, Dorian feels a little bit like he’s suffocating from the staccato inside his rib cage.

They made camp close to a rock formation that, according to Fearne, looks like a pig with wings. The night smells of snow, but Dorian feels hot despite the cold.

He doesn’t know what to do.

He knows it even less when Dariax’ hand finds one of his and just casually starts rubbing circles into the back of his hand with a thumb. Dorian can feel Orym’s eyes on them and sadly that edges Dariax on even more because he thinks his plan is working.

“You know”, Dariax says and sounds way too casual about it, “I can’t believe how lucky I got. Pretty sure you’re the most beautiful person I’ve been with so far, Dorian.”

“I—uh”, Dorian says, then somehow forgets how to speak. His cheeks feel incredibly hot even though he doesn’t sit remotely close to the fire.

Orym cocks his head and suddenly his eyes turn a little too wide for Dorian’s tastes.

Dorian doesn’t want anyone to understand anything about this disaster.

“Well, I would certainly love a boyfriend who tells me nice things like that”, Opal sighs dreamily. “Or—you know. Maybe a girlfriend. Who knows. I certainly don’t.”

She laughs a little too shrilly but Dorian doesn’t have the mental capacity to think about it anymore because a tingling sensation is running through his body and crawling along the underside of his skin as Dariax’ fingers just keep on gently, way too gently, drawing nonsensical symbols and circles on Dorian’s hand.

“Well, I just know what’s good. I make a great boyfriend”, Dariax announces with a smug undertone to his voice. The sad thing is that Dorian can’t even disagree.

So far, Dariax has been nothing but—well. There is no other word for it. Gentle and accommodating. He also started flirting with Dorian and his flirting only ever got tasteless twice during the last twenty-four hours.

He has offered to carry stuff for Dorian, held his hand, given him way too many compliments for Dorian’s poor heart to handle, helped him climb over some rocks and purposefully took a hit for Dorian in combat earlier today while shouting “Not my boyfriend, you ash-hole!”.

If someone had told him that Dariax makes good boyfriend material, Dorian would have scoffed at them.

But now.

Well.

Now he’s in even deeper shit, because this doesn’t help his feelings at all. It does the exact opposite of helping.

Gods, Dorian wishes he could kiss him.

“Well, I am certainly—uh. Happy? For you two”, Orym says with a pointed look at Dorian. Dorian tries to tell Orym that this wasn’t his idea with his eyes alone, that this is the worst, that Dorian definitely needs saving, but he doesn’t think anything gets across because the moment that Orym says that and looks at Dorian, Dariax seems to decide that he can’t have Orym looking at Dorian like that.

Dorian makes an embarrassing screeching sound as he is dipped backwards on Dariax’ lap. There is a very handsome, dwarven face with glinting eyes right in front of his when he opens his eyes again.

“Just go along”, Dariax whispers and before Dorian can protest or even just try to catch up with what’s happening, there are dry, warm lips pressed against his mouth and Dariax is closing his eyes.

Dorian’s brain is blank for a few seconds, then it kicks into overdrive, much like his heart that seems eager to jump right out of his chest and into the campfire. Dorian can’t fault it, because he, too, would love to jump into the campfire, never to be seen again.

Dariax is holding him with one arm while his other hand is resting on Dorian’s cheeks where Dariax’ thumb starts rubbing circles again as he kisses Dorian.

Dorian wants to run away.

He wants to kiss back.

He wants this to be real.

Dariax doesn’t actually want to kiss him. He only does it because he’s pretending, there is nothing real about any of this, no matter how nice and exciting his warm lips feel against Dorian’s.

Dorian pushes him away, clambers up from his position, trying very hard not to fall as he stands up, and steps away from Dariax hastily.

“I—ah. I need to. Pee. Yes. Pee. I’ll be—uh. Later!”

And he walks as fast as he can without breaking into a run.

His lips are still burning after he stops walking without even seeing where he’s going. It’s dumb. All of this is so incredibly dumb.

Beautiful eyes, beautiful voice, beautiful person.

Dariax really has to stop saying these things.

It’s already enough that Dorian developed this stupid crush after such a short amount of time on the road. It’s stupid that it had to be Dariax of all people—couldn’t it have been someone reasonable? Like Orym?

Couldn’t it just have been no one? Or a nice, noble lady that he impressed with his songs and good looks?

No.

He’s standing in the middle of nowhere, his heart beating rapidly in his chest with no clue where he even is or what he’s doing. The trees around him are leafless and bare, stretching towards the dark sky like skeletal silhouettes. Dorian doesn't know what to do.

Dariax kissed him.

He had his first kiss with a complete and utter maniac of a person. His lips are still tingling and gods, he wants to kiss him again and again and again—

“Dorian! Doriaaan!”

Dorian turns around and wipes at his face that feels weirdly wet.

Gods, he hates everything and everyone right now.

Dariax comes to a halt in front of him, his breath coming quickly and holding his compass rose.

“Okay—wow. Your legs. Are so. Long. You’re so. Fucking fast”, Dariax huffs and puts his hands on his knees as he tries to catch his breath.

Dorian looks at him and can’t decide whether he wants to kick Dariax in the shin or just run away further.

“So, uh—sorry. I got a little carried away and I kinda—uh. It was brought to my attention that it wasn’t very cool of me to just kiss you without asking if that’s okay with you. So—uh. Really sorry about that, shoulda thought about that before I—uh. You know.”

Dariax scratches the back of his head as he looks down at Dorian’s left knee.

“It’s—well. Yeah, I suppose a little warning would have been nice. It’s—uh.”

Dorian stops and wipes at his face again and when he looks back up Dariax is studying him, his gaze intense and uncharacteristically serious.

“Wait—wait a second. Was that your first kiss?”

“No! I mean. Yes! Sort of! Maybe!”

Dariax gapes and Dorian wishes the earth could swallow him up whole.

“Oh fuck, buddy, man, that’s. I’m really sorry, I didn’t—damn. I really fucked that one up, huh?”

Dariax looks so earnestly mortified at what he’s done that Dorian can already feel how he’s forgiving him, how he finds it endearing, how his heart swells in his chest like the idiot that it is.

“It’s not such a big deal. Don’t worry about it. Just—uh. Maybe we should talk about all of this stuff before… you know.”

“Yeah, yeah, totally. I swear I’m usually not a creep or anything, it was just… you know. The heat of the moment, or something. So…”

Dariax is scratching the back of his head again and swallows before he shoots Dorian a lopsided grin.

“So. No kissing and stuff like that, huh? Just the hand-holding? Hey, maybe a hug or something?”

Dorian stares at him and he could swear that Dariax’ cheeks are a little redder than before, which, Dorian supposes, comes from his embarrassment about his earlier fuck-up.

As long as they’re doing this fake-boyfriend gig, Dorian could kiss Dariax whenever he wants. Because apparently Dariax doesn’t mind that one little bit. He might never get the chance again to kiss him if he says no now.

So Dorian does something incredibly stupid and impulsive and maybe it’s even a real ash-hole move. In this tiny moment in time he decides to be selfish.

“Kissing is fine. Uh—you know. You’re not that bad at it, I guess”, he says and laughs which sounds terribly false in his own ears but Dariax perks up and throws him a reckless grin that makes Dorian’s heart stumble in his chest.

“Ha! You just wait for it, I’ll kiss your brains out before you know it!”

*

Dorian might be addicted.

He knows that this is all a ruse based on a misunderstanding but gods, kissing Dariax is so good.

And Dariax somehow makes it seem as if he’s just as into it as Dorian is, because he keeps kissing him all the time. Of course, it never happens when they’re alone and only when Orym is in more or less close proximity but if Dorian isn’t careful he’ll start believing that they’re actually boyfriends sooner than later.

Dariax is so good at pretending.

He kisses Dorian as if he never wants to kiss anyone else. He holds Dorian’s face in his hands as if it’s something precious. He kisses Dorian breathless and at more than one point Dorian had to stop him because he was getting a little too into it and he’s afraid of overstepping any boundaries.

Dariax promised that he would kiss Dorian’s brains out and it’s absolutely working. On the seventh day on their journey south they get so caught up in making out that they don’t realize that the others have gone to find a camping place for the night.

“We should—uh. Probably follow them”, Dorian croaks and stares down at Dariax’ lips.

“Hmhm. Yeah. Probably a good idea”, Dariax mumbles. Then he kisses Dorian again.

Dorian gets lost in the sensation of tongues sliding against one another and the feeling of Dariax’ hand cupping his cheeks. Dorian slides his hands into Dariax’ hair and buries his fingers in there, something that provokes a sound from Dariax. A sound that gives Dorian goosebumps all over his arms.

He wants to hear it again. He wants to touch more. He wants, he wants, he wants—

Dariax pulls back, his eyes glassy, his breathing labored.

“I—uh. Ha. I got a little carried away. Sorry. What do you say about checking where the others went?”

“Sure. Yeah. Great idea. Let’s go.”

He steps away from Dariax and stuffs his hands into his pockets to keep Dariax from reaching for them. This is a complete and utter disaster.

Dorian knows that he should stop it.

He shouldn’t abuse Dariax’ trust like this and keep up his pretense when all that Dariax wants is to help Dorian make Orym jealous.

Which has, of course, not worked in the slightest, but Dariax insists that it’s just because Orym is such a rational and level-headed guy.

“We just need to wear him thin, you know.”

Dorian doesn’t know.

He feels like he doesn’t know anything anymore.

When they finally reach the campsite, Fearne has placed her head in Opal’s lap and seems to be napping as Opal carefully braids her long, green hair.

“You guys alright?”, Orym asks with his eyebrows raised. Dorian feels himself flush and clear his throat.

“More than alright”, Dariax answers and winks. The implication makes Dorian’s cheeks heat up even more.

He didn’t think that Orym’s eyebrows could climb even higher, but that’s exactly what happens as he regards the two of them.

“Dorian, can I talk to you for a second?”, Orym asks and gets up from the log he was sitting on. Dorian shoots Dariax a glance and he seems… off.

Dariax doesn’t return Dorian’s look, he just walks over to the fire, lets himself fall down next to Opal and asks, way too loudly to be necessary “So what’s for dinner?”.

But Dorian doesn’t have any time to think more about this, because Orym grabs his wrist and pulls him towards a group of trees, away from the campfire and away from Dariax whose eyes seem to bore themselves into the back of Dorian’s head as he follows Orym into the night.

“What are you doing?”

Dorian doesn’t have to ask what Orym means. He wrings his hands and stares at the ground.

“I—uh. I don’t really... I don’t really know?”

“So when you said adventurous and brunette, what you actually meant was short, stocky and a complete disaster?”

“I—um...”

Orym looks at him with raised eyebrows and despite the fact that Dorian is so much taller than him he suddenly feels very small.

“Well. Dariax kind of got it into his head that I’m into you. Which I’m not.”

“Yes, we established that.”

“Exactly. And. Well, he thought it would be a good idea to be fake boyfriends to make you jealous.”

Orym’s eyebrows rise even higher towards his hairline.

“But I’m not jealous. Because you and I are just friends.”

“I know, okay? It just kinda got out of hand?He’s so—I don’t know! I don’t know what to do!”

Orym sighs and rubs his temples.

“So. You’re actually into Dariax?”, he asks.

Dorian presses his lips together and takes a deep breath before he nods.

“And he doesn’t know. He thinks you’re into me?”

Dorian nods again.

“And now he’s waiting for me to get jealous and for us two to be boyfriends?”

Dorian shrugs helplessly.

“Isn’t that... I don’t know. It seems like lying to him.”

“What do you want me to do? Just tell him that I have the hots for him and then leave the country forever?”, Dorian hisses.

“Well, maybe he has the hots for you, too!”, Orym whispers back and Dorian can’t help but laugh. It sounds a little hysterical.

“Then why would he offer to help me to get with you?”

Orym stares at Dorian for a full thirty seconds. Then he sighs.

“I guess it’s a little hard to... fathom... what goes on in Dariax’ head.”

“That seems like an understatement.”

Orym scoffs and shakes his head with half a smile on his face.

“I can’t believe you actually fell for—that.”

“Hey!”

“Sorry. I guess to each their own.”

“So what’s your type then?”

“Uh—I don’t really have a type. I’m not into the whole relationship stuff. Or—uh. The sex stuff, for that matter.”

“Oh. Oh! I see. Well, that seems pretty convenient. Way less stressful than what I’m doing with my life.”

Orym smiles and shakes his head again.

“I’m not going to lie, when I’m watching you and Dariax or Opal and Fearne I am glad that I don’t have to deal with any of it”, Orym admits.

“Opal and Fearne? How do you mean?”, Dorian asks. His brain is still stuck on kissing Dariax without Orym even being in any close proximity. His whole brain capacity seems to be occupied by thinking about Dariax. It’s an absolute clusterfuck.

“Never mind. So, what do you intend to do? You can’t keep this up forever”, Orym says and pulls Dorian away from a trail of thoughts that was leading towards something explicit and utterly unbefitting of a talk with a good friend about feelings.

“I—uh. I’m still figuring it out. I’ll just. You know, I could just tell him that I’m not into you anymore and then he would probably stop”, Dorian says and ignores the uncomfortable tightness of his chest as he thinks about not being able to kiss Dariax anymore. Or hold his hand. Or being told that he’s beautiful.

He’s so fucked.

“I think you should just tell him, you know? We’re adventurers now, no one knows what might happen. If I learned anything from our Voice of the Tempest, it’s that you should do your best to live without any regrets, because time is a precious thing”, Orym says.

“A weird soup”, Dorian answers, his voice weak and his heart hurting. Orym snorts.

“Yes, sure. A weird, precious soup. Anyway. Think about it, okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

*

Something is up with Dariax.

Dorian has no idea what it is, but there is definitely something wrong.

He’s quieter than usual, which is disconcerting. He’s also, very definitely, holding onto Dorian’s hand way tighter than before.

“Hey, is everything alright?”, Dorian asks him quietly as they’re getting ready for the night. The sky overhead is dark and full of clouds and the moon is barely visible.

“Yeah, sure. Stellar”, Dariax says but he’s not looking at Dorian.

“You don’t look stellar”, Dorian insists and puts his hand on Dariax’ shoulder. Dariax’ eyes flicker down to his hand and then up to his face. Dariax opens his mouth to answer, but Dorian doesn’t hear anything because there is a searing pain on his back and he slumps forward and crumples onto his knees.

His vision goes blurry from the pain and he can feel that there is something coursing through his body. It hurts.

“Dorian? Dorian!”

Lying down seems like a great idea. What if he dies now and he didn’t even tell Dariax that he’s not into Orym? What if his adventure ends here already? He doesn’t want to sink into the weird soup that is time already. He wants…

“Take your hands off my boyfriend, you fuckers!”

“Hey! What’s going on?”

“Dorian, are you okay?”

He is definitely not okay and while he probably should have different priorities as he’s bleeding out in the grass, all he can think about is the fact that Dariax just called him his boyfriend.

“Dorian, are you okay?”, Dariax’ voice sounds muffled and far away.

“Heh. You’re really good at pretending”, he lulls as he’s turned onto his back to look up at Dariax’ face.

“What? Guys, I think he has a concussion or something!”

“Well, heal him!”

“I’m trying! Dorian, hey! Buddy, don’t pass out on me, okay?”

“Did you know that your eyes are really pretty?”, Dorian slurs and he wants to raise a hand to touch Dariax’ face that seems way too red all of a sudden, but he can’t move a muscle and as he feels Dariax’ warm healing magic flow into him, he passes out from the mind-numbing pain.

*

Dorian has never shared a bed with anyone. Neither in a platonic nor in a romantic or sexual way.

When he wakes up there is someone plastered to his side. The quiet snoring tells him that it must be Dariax.

“Are you okay, Dorian?”, Fearne’s soft voice reaches his ears and he turns his head to see her sit on his other side, her hand places closed to his shoulder as if to make sure that he’s within reach.

“Uh—ow. Yeah. What happened?”

Dorian tries to concentrate on his own body and on Fearne’s words, but he’s distracted by the feeling of Dariax sleeping so close to him. His arm is thrown over Dorian’s chest and his face is pressed into Dorian’s shoulder. Orym is nowhere to be seen.

“Those Nameless Ones seem to have a pretty far reach. They really want that spider crown.”

Dorian groans as he tries to move.

“They hit me with poison or something?”

“Yeah. Dariax fixed it. Then he insisted on carrying you back to the cart. Then he insisted to tuck you into bed. And then he just sort of flopped down next to you and stared at you really intensely until he passed out.”

Dorian tries to laugh but almost chokes on it as he imagines this short man trying to carry someone as tall as Dorian. His thoughts circle around the fact that Dariax cared for him, healed him, tucked him into bed.

“So. Ah—where are Orym and Opal?”, he asks to distract himself from the feeling of having Dariax pressed so close to him.

“They’re checking to see if we’ll be safe for the night. I just wanted to make sure that you were okay.”

“That’s very kind of you.”

Fearne smiles down at him and starts scratching Little Mister under the chin as she hums a melody that Dorian’s never heard before.

“Did you ever have a really dumb crush?”, he asks before he can stop himself. Fearne turns her head to look at him again and cocks her head.

“A crush that was dumb because it wasn’t mutual or a crush that was dumb because the person was dumb?”, she wants to know.

“Ah. Huh—I haven’t thought about it that way. I guess… how about we go with both?”

Fearne puts her index fingers to her lips and cocks her head from side to side as she thinks about it.

“Well, I don’t think crushes are dumb just because they aren’t mutual. And I also think that Opal is very intelligent in her own, special way.”

Dorian blinks.

“Wait. What?”

“Hm?”

“You have a crush on Opal?”

“Sure. I thought it was pretty obvious”, Fearne says and smiles dreamily.

“Uh—maybe. Now that you mention it, I think Orym clocked it.”

“She is just. You know. Very exciting and spontaneous and funny and creative and pretty.”

The way that Fearne just talks about her crush makes Dorian wonder why he isn’t able to just say it like this. That he likes Dariax because he’s funny and brave and adventurous and a complete idiot in a lovable kind of way.

“What do you like about Dariax?”, Fearne wants to know.

“Uh—well”, he laughs nervously and clears his throat. Dariax is still softly snoring into his shoulder. “I guess… I guess pretty much everything?”

“That’s so sweet! And that’s what he said too. You guys just fit so well”, Fearne says with an earnest smile.

“Wait. What?”

“Hm?”

“What did you just say?”

“I said that you guys fit really well.”

“No. No, I meant before that.”

“Uh—well, when I asked him what he liked most about you, he also said that he likes everything about you. I thought it was really sweet, you know? There was a whole list of things, but he stopped midway through it and said ‘So basically, everything’.”

There was a whole list of things.

A list.

 “So basically, everything.”

“Dorian? Are you really okay? You look a little flushed.”

“Hm? Oh—yeah. I’m fine. Perfect. Peachy. Never better.”

He laughs nervously and glances over at Dariax as his insides dissolve into small, hyperactive butterflies. Maybe it’s not what he thinks. Maybe Dariax meant that he likes everything about Dorian as a friend.

“If you’re sure you’re okay I think I’ll stretch my legs a little bit. This cart is pretty small”, Fearne says and scoots towards the exit of the cart. Little Mister follows behind her and a moment later Dorian is alone with a snoring Dariax, whose hand has somehow managed to sneak under Dorian’s shirt.

What is he supposed to do now?

Wake Dariax up? Confess his feelings?

His heart beats so quickly that Dorian is almost afraid that it might just leap out of his rib cage. In the end he’s not brave enough to wake Dariax up and instead intertwines their fingers and turns his head to look at Dariax who has definitely drooled onto his shirt.

He knows that he’s completely fucked because he thinks that this is endearing.

Dorian raises his arm and gently cards his hand through Dariax’ hair.

Dariax makes a small sound in his sleep, something that sounds like a content sigh, and the butterflies in Dorian’s stomach start dancing happily.

“D’you really think my eyes are pretty?”, Dariax mumbles a second later and Dorian pulls his hand away hastily as Dariax’ eyes open.

“Um—well. Yeah. They’re… they have a very nice color”, Dorian croaks. Dariax pulls his hand out from under Dorian’s shirt and starts rubbing at his eyes.

“You okay again?”

“Yeah. Thank you for saving me. And carrying me to the cart. And—uh. Tucking me in.”

Dariax’ cheeks redden as he coughs slightly before sitting up.

“Well, you know. It’s what boyfriends are for, right?”, Dariax says with half a laugh in his voice that doesn’t sound completely genuine.

Dorian swallows and bites his bottom lip as he tries to find the words. He’s usually not bad at talking, so why does this seem so endlessly hard?

“So—uh. I have something to confess”, he starts as his thoughts start spinning around in panicked circles. Dariax turns his head to look down at him.

“I know, I know”, he answers.

“Huh?”

“Well, I figured, you know. When Orym dragged you away I thought you guys probably had a talk?”

“We did, yeah”, Dorian says but he is endlessly confused about what that has to do with anything.

“See, I knew it. So you think it finally started working, huh? Told you, I’m really good at this kind of stuff.”

Dorian decides that he has to sit up for this. His head is spinning and his heart is racing and he is endlessly confused about what in the ever-loving hell is going on.

“Working? What are you talking about?”

“You know, the jealousy thing.”

Dorian stares at him.

Then it finally clicks.

“Dariax… I don’t want to be fake boyfriends anymore”, he says quietly before he can think of a better way to say it. Dariax’ expression twists and he looks away, his hand reaching for the back of his head to scratch at his scalp—a sign for nervousness, as Dorian knows by now.

“Yeah. Okay. I—uh. That’s—“

“I want to be your real boyfriend.”

Dariax blinks a few times. Then his face turns the deepest shade of red that Dorian has ever seen on him.

“You—what?”

“I don’t like Orym. I never have. Not like that. I—uh. I like you. And when—if—I kiss you again I don’t want it to be just pretend, I want to really kiss you. Because I—uh. I really like kissing you.”

Dariax is still staring at him, seemingly stunned. The hand at the back of his head has stopped moving and started to sink slowly back into Dariax’ lap.

“So…”, Dorian says and the nervous energy humming under his skin is almost unbearable, “can I? Can I… kiss you? For real?”

If Dariax doesn’t say anything soon Dorian might have to flee from the cart and actually leave the country. The suspense is torturous, his words hang heavy in the air between them. And then, faster than Dorian can react, Dariax lounges himself at Dorian and kisses him so passionately that Dorian can’t suppress the moan that escapes him.

Dariax pushes at him, shoves Dorian back down onto the bedroll, sinks one hand into Dorian’s long hair and cups his face with the other.

Dorian’s brain goes blank as he arches up against Dariax’ weight on top of him.

“So, is that a yes?”, he pants into the kiss.

“Yes. Yes, yes, yes”, Dariax rasps and kisses him again. “Gods, you’re so pretty. I thought I was going to go insane.”

Dorian makes a very embarrassing noise somewhere between a moan and a whimper. Maybe he likes those compliments more than a normal person would.

“So you like me?”

“Are you kidding me? So fucking much.”

Dariax is kissing his whole face now and Dorian wraps his arms around him. He feels light as a feather and the butterflies in his stomach have gone completely off the rails.

“Are you guys decent?”, Opal shouts from outside the cart.

“No! Go away! I want to make out with my boyfriend!”, Dariax shouts back and Dorian laughs.

“Don’t leave any icky spots though!”, Opal says.

“Oh, come on”, Dorian hears Orym protest.

“That’s what Prestidigitation is for, Opal! Read a book about magic!”, Dariax announces loudly and Dorian has no time to protest this obscene exchange because Dariax is kissing him again and Orym seems to be dragging Opal away from the cart.

“So do you know what that means?”, Dorian mumbles against Dariax’ lips.

“Hm?”

“I don’t need any flirting lessons from you after all.”

[moonctzeny]

Promotion

This is technically a part 2 of my fic Work for it but it can be enjoyed on its own!

pairing: supervisor !johnny x intern ! female reader x assistant !haechan

genre: smutty goodness (this will send me to hell vip)

word count: almost 14k

summary: “After you fuck the Sales’ department supervisor, Johnny Suh in your office during an overtime, you’re left to deal with the unavoidable lingering emotions that come with getting his dick on the regular. At the same time, his assistant and your best work buddy, Donghyuck, who initially helped you with getting with his boss, realises his growing crush on you that is too big to be ignored at this point. With their masterful skills in seduction, you’ve ended up tangled in a sexual game with the both of them, all the while trying to move up from an intern to a permanent worker in the company”

warnings: threesome w/ two doms, alcohol consumption, mention of food (meat, lettuce, eggs), oral, overstimulation, thigh job, at some point- reader borrows a shirt from haechan and it’s mentioned that it’s ‘too big on the shoulders’, thigh riding, office sex, pussy slapping, choking, fingering, sir kink thrown in there at some point, a little degradation bc this is my fic we’re talking about

a/n: omg it’s finally done! I really love this so I hope you guys like it as well :)

taglist:  @rainodanna​, @markresonates​, @unknown5tar​, @yoongsicles​

For every other worker in the office, virtually nothing had changed. 

They relive the same mundane routine, Monday after Monday, the same excruciating 8 hours and short cigarette breaks. The same trees, stuck in their ceramic imprisonment would greet them in the company’s entrance. Rigid and dusty and reeking of cheap plastic. It’s not like they’d come alive, open their little mouths on their thylakoid membranes and tell everyone you fucked mr. Suh, the Sales Department’s supervisor, in your office during your overtime. No, that’s not possible, you reminded yourself when you pass by them every morning, giving them a side eye for good measure, as if that would scare them off their zombie state.

And you were the same too, completing your tasks and meeting your deadlines. Blending in with the rest of the company’s human resource, with the exception of the occasional double take of some tactless male worker here and there.

Donghyuck, however, said supervisor’s assistant and your best friend, wasn’t your typical office worker. He noticed the extra layer of cherry lip gloss coating your lips. He noticed your new perfume, sweeter than the one you used to wear. He noticed the knowing smiles between you and his boss, the heat of your body when you were around him. And it wasn’t just because he was sharp overall.

He was the one who practically got you together, planted the seed in Johnny’s head about the cute new intern of the Financial Department. He was the one who convinced him to finally make a move on you, tired of seeing you trying over and over again to seduce the supervisor to your bed. 

And when that seed finally sprouted, in the form of Johnny spitting in your mouth and taking you on your office chair like you were his last fuck on earth (according to the hair-raising description you gave Donghyuck the morning after), he should’ve been happy, right? 

It didn’t really affect his life in the slightest.

You were just y/n. His friend, his work buddy. The person whom he was close enough to let you know you had a piece of lettuce stuck on your teeth from that sandwich you had on your break. The person who texted him funny gifs of pandas falling asleep during the most boring of meetings. With your nerdy glasses and that ugly brown suit you loved wearing so much. The person he dreamt of fucking every time he fell asleep.

When you told Donghyuck you had a crush on his boss he wasn’t shocked, but the stinging buzz in his guts surprised him. He would see you waltz right past his office all perked up and pretty, to see the person you really came for, nervous as you hung from every word that left Johnny’s mouth. He’d put up with the sound of you giggling over every stupid joke that left the older man’s mouth patiently, just to wait until he’d smell your sweet perfume as you’d walk past him again. To tease you over something that would make you mad enough to notice him, glare at him, maybe even hit him.

And Donghyuck wanted to hate Johnny, he really did. His stupid boss who asked for his coffee specifically made, who was rude and cranky on Monday mornings and got the credit for all his hard work, yet Johnny was nothing of the sort. He was helpful, and kind and let him off early. He was funny and good looking and taller than him and had a six pack, damn it. If Donghyuck was being honest, he didn’t just like his boss, he admired him. It was pathetic, he thought. Most days he’d live vicariously through him. 

Sometimes he would lay on his bed at night, picturing himself to be the second lead of a romance drama that would sweep you off your feet. Everyone gets second lead fever, right? In his rem cycles, he’s handsome and hilarious and much more interesting than the main actor. He would imagine himself stretching out his rays, like the full, rising sun that he was, until they overcame the big mountain that was Johnny and reached your skin. So hot against it that you’d have to undress, remove the clothes sticking on your sweaty skin to embrace him. 

He thought about your body a hundred times too many for it to be considered healthy. The curve of your ass in your pencil skirts, the little hairs on the nape of your neck that stuck out from your tight ponytails. The runs on your tights that he wished were caused by the sharpness of his fingernails. He listened to your voice carefully, all 90 Hz of it, and played it inside his head as if it was an instrument. Putting together chords and harmonies, composing a music piece of all the ways his name would sound like coming out of your lips.

Donghyuck, Donghyuck, Donghyuck

“Earth to Donghyuck? Are you listening to me?”

It was unlike him to be out of it, especially when he was around you. He blames it on skipping coffee this morning or the shade of red of your blouse that fits you so well. Either way, he had to respond, and keep the pink from flooding his cheeks further. There’s no way you could’ve known what was going on inside his head.

“Uh, yeah, yeah. So, let me get this straight. Weren’t you the one who didn’t want a relationship?”

You were upset, he could tell. After the night of the overtime, you and Johnny had indulged in a few more nights of each other’s presence, but had kept it at that. Sex. Delicious, mind blowing, porno worthy sex, but nothing more than that. And you were starting to itch for a little bit more.

Donghyuck was right, of course. You were the one who told Johnny that this wasn’t the right time in your life for any sort of commitment, especially with someone in the workplace. This was your internship, and you were determined to get a permanent position soon, that should be your first priority. Get the bag and go. There were men everywhere. But why was your heart aching for that particular one with the long hair and the caramel eyes and the flower tattoos? 

“I just don’t want people at work to gossip about us, you know how they get. But seeing him so nonchalant about it gets on my nerves.”

Leaving his apartment at 2 am when he was sprawled out on his bed, in just pyjama pants and the light layer of sweat from the athletic sex you just had, hurt enough. It was a sight so beautifully hidden under his work attire that it soon became addictive, the withdrawal symptoms too intense for you to have your dose only once a week. 

Donghyuck scowled when you first let out a frustrated sigh, your eyes pitifully following his boss’s silhouette around. He knew you’d never really complain about it, you were set on that promotion and you deserved it too, but it was hard not to get angry. Everything he ever wanted stood willing and ready for taking in front of Johnny’s lap, how could he not claim you?

He hated seeing you sad.

“Let’s go for a drink. I think you need it.”

Even he surprised himself with the sudden proposition, blinking back at you to gauge your reaction. You were best work buddies, sure, but you never hung out after office hours alone. It would make sense for you to refuse, Donghyuck told himself, trying to soften the blow of a potential rejection. You’re probably tired from working, or maybe you’d feel awkward to be alone with him for so long. Maybe you hated to drink, or maybe you hated him. Oh God, what if you hated him? What if you only spent time with him out of social obligat-

“Sure, sounds good. Pick me up after you’re done? Since you’re on the top floor.”

Donghyuck nodded back at you, too eagerly for his liking, the gears in his brain already trying to figure out where he should take you. You excused yourself back to your office, the small pat you gave his shoulder making him grin like an idiot.

This is not a date, he reminded himself. 

He had dreamt of this moment for months now. He thought about you every time he walked past that korean bbq place, promising himself that one day he’d muster the courage to finally ask you out. This wasn’t exactly the case today, but it was as close to his imagination as possible. This is not a date.

He repeated that phrase over and over again, let it resonate inside his head. This is not a date because he is a coward and you like someone else. Was he a bad person for taking you out today? Was he taking advantage of your slight disappointment? Was that why you ever said yes in the first place? The self deprecating thoughts lit a fire in his belly and he tried to extinguish it with every shot of clear liquid that disappeared from between his full lips. Like he expected, you weren’t far behind on the drinking either, enjoying the grilled pieces of meat blissfully, moaning in satisfaction with every delicious bite.

You looked pretty before, but now, through the pink coloured glasses of intoxication, you were stunning. There was a halo of bright light surrounding you, making you look so celestial chomping on that piece of lettuce. If it was anyone else, he would pull a face of repugnance at the sight, yet Dongyuck thought that you just looked so cute, so content in that little moment and he wished he could just lean in and leave a kiss over your filled cheeks.

No, that was a dangerous thought. This is not a date, pull it together.

Donghyuck desperately tried to focus his attention somewhere else, anywhere but you would suffice. His eyes finally landed on a bowl of marinated eggs on the table, and it reminded him of the three boiled eggs he makes for breakfast every morning. He was a man of habit, following the same routine until he’d see you and you’d colour between the lines of his life, making it interesting finally. Donghyuck would fill the pot with more water than needed, just enough so that it doesn’t overflow. He liked to be closer to you than he could handle, close enough but never touching you.

Lost in his daydream, he doesn’t realise that he hasn’t talked in minutes. And when you touch his hand lightly with yours to bring him out of it, he almost feels the boiling water burning his skin.

“You’re so quiet”, you say with a chuckle, and Donghyuck makes a mental note to add this harmony to his composition, “you got drunk before I did? Are you really Lee Donghyuck?”

“Well see, I drank all this soju, so I wish I was someone else for the night.”

The statement saddened you, and you withered a little in your seat. Why did Donghyuck drink so much tonight? You came here for you to cheer up, didn’t you? Or were you so caught up in your little personal drama - that you caused yourself - that you missed hearing about his cat dying? You must offer your condolences. Did he even have a cat?

You don’t want to bring up his dead cat in case he did so you just lift your hand next to his head, and weave your fingers through his locks. He has been growing out his hair for months now, and the look might not be the most corporate-professional but it sure fit him. The ash blonde shade that he decided to colour it, brought out the tan of his skin nicely, and the hair itself though bleached was still soft to the touch. 

You see him react to the work of your fingers instantly, his expression shocking you. His mouth is hanging open in a loose ‘O’ shape, small wrinkles forming on the space between his eyebrows. You pick out small pieces of hair, one by one, letting gravity do the rest by allowing the individual hairs to return to their previous state. 

“What are you thinking about?”, you ask so softly it’s almost a whisper, and Donghyuck can only sigh.

YOU, he wants to scream, you’re in my mind all day long and I think I’m going crazy! He is full on staring at you now and there’s nothing in the world that can take his eyes off of you, off your worried eyes that seem to hold all the stars in the sky, or the soft skin of your neck that he wants to kiss and suck and break so badly. But he doesn’t, and the soju calls him a coward for it, so he settles for the next best thing.

“You are pretty”

It was just three words but they sent your mind in a frenzy. Why did it matter so much to you that Donghyuck found you pleasing to look at? He has complimented you before, even flirted with you a lot of times, yet it was always said half-jokingly, followed by a diss. But this time he was serious, no signs of alcohol clouding his eyes. He was so solemn in fact, that those three words made the heat burn on the skin of your cheeks, rising up your throat and hindering you from responding with a human sound. 

He takes one more shot, washing away the embarrassment of his sudden confession and offers to order one more fatty dish to sober up, then take a walk in the city.

The walk was relatively quiet, less awkward than it was 30 minutes ago but Donghyuck was still being uncharacteristically silent.

“I thought you said that alcohol doesn’t make you red”, you say teasingly, trying to spark conversation. 

It doesn’t actually. You were the culprit of the wash of burgundy all over his skin, accumulating even more pigmented around his ears and the freckles of his nose. You were walking side by side now, and Donghyuck thought that for the passersby you two must look like lovers. He let his brain entertain that fantasy, his hand itching to hold yours. He’d intertwine your fingers together, give your palm a little rub with his thumb. Then he’d lift the bundle of fingers on his lips, kiss the thin skin of your wrist and make the aunties that are looking at you now coo in adoration.

“Says you. You look so fucked right now.”, he jokes and you’re relieved to see him go back to his teasing self. You don’t know if it’s the chilly night, but you’re overly aware of the heat his body emits, and the smell of his cologne makes your head spin just a bit more. You’ve been sitting so close to him this entire time that you can list off most, if not all, the ingredients in his perfume. Rose, chilly pepper, orange blossom, lavender. 

“Donghyuck, I will step on you.”

“Mmm, tempting”

You shove his arm playfully and he reciprocates, but his strength is not as controlled as he thinks. The heels of your boots, slippery against the wet floor that the drizzle caused earlier, make you trip on your steps, and Hyuck is luckily there. With his quick reflexes he catches your elbows first, pulling you up against his chest and you grab his left bicep to support your weight. 

You take a deep breath, to register that you did not fall head first on the floor, and that’s when you realise how close Donghyuck is to you. His bangs are tickling your forehead, your deep pants fanning them apart. You admire his glowing skin, the wrinkles of his lips, the two moles lined parallelly with the bridge of his nose. You’re not sure what comes to you, but you raise your free hand and place it over his hot cheek, your thumb connecting those two moles with an invisible line. A raindrop, fresh out of the sky and signifying the start of a new drizzle, falls on his face and follows the trail that a tear would, his voice weak and breaking when he speaks again.

“I’m sorry”

He dips down his head then, connecting your lips and letting the plumpness of his mouth reel you in. You’re over the initial shock almost immediately and kiss him back in vigor, surprised with the heat his kiss has spread to your chest and belly. It was an ember at first, glowing in the very depth of your insides but it was soon starting to spark up uncontrollably, and you were scared of how rapidly it was fueling up. This was your friend you were kissing. So where did all this hunger for him come from?

You pull back when you realise you’re in a road full of people, and you can’t bring yourself to look at him in the eyes. Donghyuck looks disheveled and anxious, and he apologizes again before he urges you to keep walking with him.

“It’s starting to rain. We should get home.”

You walk next to him in complete silence now, stealing quick glances of his reflexion at every surface that made it possible -  the windows of the parked cars, the puddles of water on the sidewalk, a passersby’s glasses. The look on his face is unreadable, pensive if anything else, and it’s rare for the expressive Donghyuck you’re used to dealing with. Your homes are towards the same direction, his a little closer than yours, and it doesn’t take too long for you to reach the entrance of his building, your clothes not even half wet from walking without umbrellas.

Donghyuck fumbles to find his keys, his hands shaking from the adrenaline his body released from the kiss earlier, the feeling still too fresh against his lips. He stresses thinking of what to do next. Should he hug you goodnight? Apologize again for kissing you? Unlock the entrance without a word and never speak to you again? 

“I’m here”, he states dumbly, as if you’d sit at the porch of a strange house and he avoids your eyes as if you were Medusa, “Goodnight.”

You smile back awkwardly at him, waving with a hand made of clay as you wish him the same. He has turned around to unlock the door, key already at the keyhole and you turn to leave too when his voice stills you in place.

“He’s an idiot.” His back is still facing you, and when he turns to look at you his eyes finally lock with yours, as honest and earnest as ever. “Johnny. If it were me, hell, if you wanted me like that I would grab that opportunity- grab you in an instant, convince you to be mine any way I could.”

You’re stuck looking at him like a fool, trying to comprehend what he’s saying and the complications of it. He puffs out through his nose, chuckling to himself and shaking his head.

“It doesn’t matter. Goodnight y/n.”

Donghyuck is half inside the entrance now and your body suddenly exits its frozen state, blocking the door from closing with your boot. He’s shocked with the sudden movement and he opens up the door further for you. You get inside the little hall without thinking, sitting firmly in front of him, a puzzled look on his face. 

“What if I told you he hasn’t even crossed my mind this whole time we were out? What if I told you I haven’t stopped thinking about you since you kissed me? Would it matter then?”

He opens his mouth momentarily, as if to speak but decides to stay silent. He already said everything he needed. It’s up to you now.

And you aren’t ready to leave yet.

You take a step forward to close the distance between you, your chests touching and you pick up the distinct smell of soju in his breath. You’re not sure if it’s that smell or the proximity but you feel drunk all over again, the yellow light of the hall shining disturbingly bright down at you and urging you to do something.

You plant a kiss over his neck, leaving a trace of the remnants of the pink lipstick you applied at the start of the workday. It was tentative, but you could still feel his raging pulse from under your lips. You could feel it get faster too, the rhythm going higher along with his body temperature and you decide on a path. A path of kisses starting from the same spot you’ve turned glittery pink, up his jawline and all the way to his earlobe.

Donghyuck clenches his jawline, you feel that too, and something snaps inside him. He just can’t take it anymore, having you so close to him, your lips on his neck and doing nothing about it. The boiling water finally spilled over the pot, hot and overflowing, and he doesn’t care if he gets burned.

You feel the cool wood against your back before you taste his tongue a second after. He has pushed you up against the entrance door, you realize, but it’s hard to comprehend anything around you when he kisses you like that. It’s the steamy, purposeful continuation of the kiss you shared earlier, and with the lack of prying eyes Donghyuck has a good idea of where he wants it to lead.

He shows you too, pushing his knee between your thighs and he feels your heat almost melt the rough fabric of his jeans. There are so many things he wants to do, so many lines he wants to cross but there is one thing he must ensure.

“Tell me you want this.”

You glide your hands upwards from his pecks to the slope of his neck and wrap them around his neck. Your body seems to act up on its own, and you feel yourself grinding down his leg that is still positioned against the wall. It feels dirty, the desperation of it all, and you connect your chest with his again before answering him.

“Lee Donghyuck. I want you to make me cum” 

You grab his hand before he gets to respond, the cool silver of his watch digging against your fingers, and you drag him to the elevator door. As if the universe had sensed your urgency, you find it waiting for you at the bottom floor, and you pull him inside with a tug of his tie.

In no time you find yourself pushed up against the wall again, and you can’t see much beyond Donghyuck’s lips, but you do catch him clumsily pressing the button to his floor with your peripheral vision. Once the elevator is in motion you feel like you can finally submerge yourself in his lips and the way his kisses take your breath away, not sure if the funny feeling in your stomach is from the sudden change in altitude or the arousal. You’re already taking his clothes off, removing the jacket of his suit off his shoulders and working the top buttons of his shirt open.

It’s him that drags you to his apartment this time, urging you out of the elevator as soon as the robotic declaim of his floor number rips through the wet sounds of you kissing. His keys are already easily accessible in his front pocket from your conversation earlier, and when he manages to unlock the entrance with trembling hands you walk inside as if you own the place.

It’s small and cozy, decorated minimally. The first thing you notice is that it smells like Donghyuck, something that should be obvious but it still overwhelms you. It’s maybe a bit stuffy from the hours he was gone yet this is the smell still lingering in your nose from his skin you were sucking just moments ago, trying to distract him from the easy task of opening the door. It’s addictive and you want it stuck on yours.

And Donghyuck does stick on your skin, discarding his tie on the floor with a strong pull and finishing the task of unbuttoning his shirt that you started in the elevator. His movements are impatient and soon he’s half naked, and you barely have time to admire his caramel skin before his hands are all over you. They start safely at the dimples of your waist, then sliding upwards to your ribcage and copping a feel of the underside of your boobs by sneaking his thumbs under the wire of your bra. You want to feel more, encourage his probing fingers so you reach to the clasp on your back, unfastening the garment and removing it through the hem of your blouse. 

Donghyuck can’t take his eyes off your chest, nipples hardened from your arousal and poking through the thin fabric. He takes his thumbs, the same thumbs that lit a fire in your belly earlier and flips the bud, toying it around and rubbing circles around it. The response from you is immediate, moans that start off soft and build up to a crescendo bouncing off the walls of his apartment.

It drives you crazy, a little bit, that smirk he has on his face now. It’s so familiar in between his features, you’ve seen it countless of times, especially during his typical teasings of you, yet is carries so much newfound weight now, so much sex appeal. He’s already giving you what you need but the climaxing is too slow for your liking, you want more and you want it now. You want what you asked him for in the lobby of this building.

Donghyuck can either read your mind or read through the increased frequency of your moans because he undresses down to his boxers, forming a trail of clothes from his living room to his bedroom, where he has led you. He doesn’t even bother to open the lights, relying on the moonlight from his window for lighting and pushing you down on his bedsheets. 

He climbs up with you, hovering over you and you move back a bit so that your head rests comfortably over his pillows. If the smile he gave you earlier had affected you, then the hungry look on his face right now almost makes you come untouched, his eyes raking up and down your body as if he doesn’t know where to start.

He decides on your calves, kissing them and moving upwards slowly and sensually, not missing the sensitive skin on the side of your knees and paying extra attention to your inner thighs. He’s still at it a minute and a half later, and you can’t tell in the dark but you’re sure they must be decorated by bite marks by now, his close proximity to the source of your pleasure making you squirm in his hold.  

It feels like ages since you last felt his fingers when he grips the soft meat of your thighs and spreads them apart. They soon move up to the hem of your skirt, rolling the fabric upwards and over your ass. You feel his breath against your pussy, making it tingle and twitch even more than it already has, and the wait feels like a new level of hell in Dante’s Inferno. 

A single finger pets you over your underwear, drawing lines over the damp fabric from your clit down to your entrance and then up again. You whimper and whine at the sensation that is half a step from what you consider satisfactory and he hooks a finger on the black lace, moving it to the side and letting you experience the cool air of the room all over again. The full exposure brings heat to your face and you breathe through the embarrassment that arouses you even more.

“Hey, Donghyuck?”

“Yes?”

“Is your cat still alive?”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

He licks one long stripe over your entrance, and you feel the goosebumps spreading all over your arms and legs. Nimble fingers spread your folds apart, and you hold your breath as he lets his cool spit drip from his lips and land onto your lower ones, then starts sucking over your clit. His tongue is wet and his breath is hot, the combination driving you insane. You grip the comforter, digging into it with your nails to keep yourself grounded.

“Oh my god, yes, right there”

The praise motivates him to keep trying hard, not that it will take a lot of effort to make you come undone. Donghyuck’s unprecedented touches and the newfound sexual tension they have ignited had already worked you up, his skill in oral accelerating the build up to your climax even more. And just when you thought it couldn’t get better than this he starts a series of kitten licks right over your clit, each one sending a wave of pleasure stronger than the one before.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum”

You’re grinding on his face, trying to find the right pace when you finally come undone, thighs shaking and desperately trying to push his hands away to cover up your sensitivity again. His hold is steady and he continues to lick you keenly, the lewd sound of him slurping your wetness filling the room. Your eyes open wide and you can only stare at his white ceiling during your overstimulation, the cracks and crumbling plaster caused from humidity looking like constellations in your orgasm-drunk mind. The second climax hits you suddenly but forcefully, unable to control the volume of your voice, not that you can hear yourself clearly in your daze. It’s an array of moans and screams and tiny whimpers of Donghyuck’s name, his beautiful symphony coming to life.

His appetite for you is finally satiated, and he decides to take mercy on you and remove his lips from your pulsating heat. You look so beautiful right now, he thinks, skin illuminated by the pale moonlight that is reflected on the wetness dripping from your pussy. He hovers over you again, pulling you into another kiss and you lazily reciprocate. His member is painfully hard, sliding over your slickness. You squirm and yelp everytime the fabric of his underwear grazes against your clit, your nerve endings screaming in sensitivity.

“I don’t have a condom on me”, you whisper against his lips, the taste of yourself on his tongue engaging you in the kiss again.

“I’m too tired to fuck you like you deserve anyways”

It would be criminal from you to leave him untouched like that. He looks so hot over you, messy hair and chin glistening in your juices. You absentmindedly place your nails on his collarbones, then scratch your way down over his navel. Donghyuck hisses at the numb stinging of pain, hips buckling against your pussy in the pursuit of some sort of friction. 

You move your hand even lower, slipping your fingers past the waistband of his boxers. You move past the bristles you find and grasp his member, that is not too long but an impressive girth. You manage to free it from his underwear, and you can’t really tell in the dim lighting but you bet it must have turned a purple-ish red colour. It’s leaking.

“But we don’t have a condom”

You take one of his hands in yours, giving it a kiss to calm him down, then place it over your left boob. He toys with the mound of your chest, squeezing the softness. You had other plans for him.

Connecting your knees together, you let the softness of your thighs connect, with only maybe a slither of space between them. Your hands are still on Donghyuck’s cock and you reach to hold his balls, massaging them slightly and pulling him towards you.

He takes your cue and leans forward, sliding himself between your thighs. The moan he lets out is guttural and elongated, laced with the beautiful metallic tone of his voice. He lets go of your breasts and wraps his arms around your knees, putting your calves on each of his shoulders and continues to rut his hips against you. 

“Fuck. This feels so good”

You look up to see Donghyuck’s face, contorted in a frown that can only be described as desperate, his lips puffy and red from all the licking and kissing and sucking. 

He looks painfully sexy, and you momentarily imagine all the things you would do to him if the serotonin of your double orgasm and the alcohol in your belly weren’t weighing you down. You’d gladly stay up all night for him, tugging on his long hair as you’d let him bend you in any position he wanted. You bet that thickness would feel amazing stretching you out and you moan at the thought, your thighs flexing involuntarily and making him moan even more. 

Soon he has picked up his pace, the tip of his cock reappearing between your thighs more frequently and you can feel his thrusts getting sloppier by the second.

“Fuck fuck, I’m coming”

He suddenly pushes forward, almost collapsing on top of you as a string of satisfactory groans leave his lips. His hips still with a stagger and you entrancingly watch the ropes of white dripping from his cock and landing on your blouse. It was a mess, but you can worry about it in the morning.

Donghyuck fucks your thighs slowly for a little longer, elongating his pleasure for as long as he can and soothing the crescent moons his nails formed on your skin with his fingertips. He reaches one hand to his bedroom floor where he finds a -what you hope is- clean t-shirt, and pats his cum off your blouse as best as he could.

It has gotten late and you’re both exhausted, Donghyuck’s comfortable weight on top of you lulling you to sleep. He’s hugging your hips now, head resting on your stomach and occasionally kissing your hip bones tenderly. You’re not sure when you slip out of consciousness but you do hear Donghyuck mumble something against your skin, something the kiss of Morpheus doesn’t allow you to make out.

You wake up to a white ceiling. Not just any white ceiling- a cracked, full of moisture pockets ceiling and you wonder when you let the humidity mess up your apartment this much. The culprit of your awakening, the morning sun rays that shine right on your eyes; way too bright than what you’re used to, force your eyelids to open, and it takes you a moment to adjust to the abundant light. This isn’t your apartment.

The sight of a man that greets your barely recovered rentinas shocks you, and you rub your eyes just in case you’re stuck in a lucid dream or something. You see the mess of ash blonde hair and the pile of work clothes discarded on the floor and your mind soon is flooded with last night’s events, buzzed out in your foggy memory. You sense another buzz as well, a physical one this time and you wiggle in place when you feel something hard and metallic digging in your butt. You prod a little with your fingers, trying not to wake up Donghyuck too abruptly and you realise that yes, you’ve been sitting on a phone all night.

Shouldn’t it be a Tuesday today? It’s very bright for it to be that early but surely Donghyuck must have set an alarm for the both of you last night. You yawn involuntarily, deciding to play with your phone until he wakes up as well when the bright white display pulls all the blood from your face.

8:40. You have to be at work in 20 minutes.

“Donghyuck! Hyuck!”

You didn’t care to make your touches light. They were shoves, really, pushing at his shoulders frantically to get him off of you and pull him out of his slumber. He wakes up with a gasp, trying desperately to keep his balance and failing, to then fall unceremoniously on the floor.

“What the hell?”, he groans out with a hoarse, groggy version of his voice, “My head is pounding”

“It will hurt even more once I’m done with you! You didn’t set an alarm last night? Today’s a work day!’

With his eyes bulging, he launches himself forward, grabbing the phone from your hands. 

“Shit, shit, shit”. He’s fully awake now, hands rubbing his face to come up with the next logical steps to take, in order to have you both at work on time and looking presentable. “I have a mouthwash and hairbrush in my bathroom, I’ll get ready here”

“And what the fuck am I supposed to wear?”

“Yesterday’s clothes? Are you really that concerned about recycling an outfit right now?”

You roll your eyes, pushing your blouse down and dragging his comforter off your body. 

“Did you forget about this?”

You straighten out the fabric for him to see, and the big, grossly dried out cum stains aren’t hard to notice. His face looks worried, but not necessarily apologetic, and you can almost see the scenes from the sex you shared last night play through his eyes like a porn film. 

“Your skirt is fine, right? I’ll find a shirt that fits you”

You’re spitting out the fluorescent blue liquid when he timorously walks in the bathroom to leave the piece of clothing he promised. It smells heavily of those moth-repellent sachets and looks slightly wrinkled, like something he pulled out from the depths of his closet but you don’t really have the privilege of playing Suzy Menkes right now. You pull and tuck the fabric in creative ways, in order to style the garment into something you might walk into work wearing one day, yet it’s painfully obvious to you how misfitted it is; too big around the shoulders as one would expect from a man’s shirt.

You exit the bathroom after giving up, pressed by the limited time and the sound of Donghyuck’s uneasy steps through the door. You let him freshen up as well and use the time to collect your things that are scattered all over his place - he was kind enough to bring you your bra that was discarded in his living room floor along with his shirt - and soon you were rushing out of his house and into separate cabs so as not to raise suspicion.

The rest of the day was normal, well- according to this new definition of normalcy for you. Where everything and everyone seems to follow this movie script of what a typical company must look like, while you worry that someone will probe uninvitedly into your thoughts. God knows what they would fish out. A broken record player of Donghyuck’s moans when he cums, the burn of his thick sex rubbing against your thighs, the paths of his neck veins you memorized by heart. 

You shake your head to clear it from the intrusive thoughts, and click the refresh button of your emails. The sound of keys being tapped and printers being put to use lands you back to reality, and you calmly click on the new incoming message from the Sales Department.

It was Johnny.

You’d think that after having his dick down your throat for about half a minute, getting butterflies in your stomach from the mere sight of his email address would stop being a recurring event for you. But alas, here they were, tapping their little wings in a flutter that turns into a hurricane of anxiety, and you sarcastically thank the universe for having to deal with Johnny while looking like an 80’s librarian.

You walk up the stairs like your ankle’s dragging a ball and a chain, the piece of paper in your hands getting slightly ripped from the abuse of your nervous fingers. It was a stupid document, barely half filled with any valuable information and you think it can’t be worth the calories you burned with that trip. It certainly wasn’t worth entering hell, aka mr. Suh’s office, and just the thought of him waiting for you in his fitted suit and gelled back hair is making you light headed. If Johnny was Hades then Donghyuck definitely was Cerberus, guarding his boss with his three heads and his big dick.

You leave a breath out when you realise he isn’t there, making your way onto Johnny’s office with lighter feet. He smiles brightly when he sees you, handsome as ever, and you carefully leave the document on his messy desk.

“Well, isn’t it my favourite intern”

You laugh at his sing-song tone, enjoying how warm he was being today.

“You used to avoid me like the plague and now I’m your favourite?”

“You always were my favourite”, he winks, and pushes back his hair like he knows the effect it has on you, “If someone is avoiding anyone like the plague that’s Donghyuck. I would have sent him to you but I can’t find him anywhere.”

You gulp dryly at his words, an invisible awl pinching your chest. You could feel Donghyuck slipping away from every place that you might share, in a very subtle way, but still noticeable from you. He left the kitchen hastily when you walked in to make your coffee, excused himself out of the lunch break through which you always kept him company, and now he was gone as well. Was last night such a big mistake in his point of view?

“I’m kidding, I just wanted to see you.”

He motions you to come closer and you timidly oblige, serenaded by the sound of his voice but not missing the hunger his eyes hold. He’s still seated in his big leather office chair, thighs spread out in a way that turned you on embarrassingly much, and you fit yourself in the space between his long legs. 

“He is very jumpy though, Donghyuck. Do you know what happened to him?”

Your whole body tenses up, muscles hardening defensively. “Why would I know?”

“I don’t know. It’s just that you guys are so close.”

Close. Close as in having his knee between your thighs, close as in being pushed up against his chest and the elevator mirror. Close as in knowing how his tongue feels massaging your clit. 

“Have I seen you in that before?”

You’re confused with the sudden question and when you search for the context you realise he’s talking about your- Donghyuck’s shirt. Did he smell the sex on you? The overwhelming scent of pheromones and Donghyuck’s cologne that your nose just couldn’t ignore?

“I don’t think so”, you try to answer as nonchalantly as possible, “it’s new.”

“No”, Johnny insists, and pinches the fabric with his fingers. He’s very knowledgeable about fashion, always complimenting you on your outfit choices and you know he wouldn’t let this one go so easily. “I’m sure I’ve seen this before.”

You follow his line of sight towards the ivory fabric too, as if you expected there to be written “YOUR ASSISTANT GAVE ME THE BEST HEAD OF MY LIFE LAST NIGHT”, in a bright red marker. It was a prison, in the form of 99% cotton and 1% pure anxiety, and you know you had to distract Johnny out of this subject one way or the other.

“You like it?”, you ask seductively, tucking a stray piece of hair behind his ear.

“I’d like you better without it.”

With just one strong, yet calculated pull he has you sat over the length of his thigh. Your hands land on his chest for stability, right over his pecks that fill your palms easily. There’s nothing you want more than to suck on those perfectly sculpted lips of his, but you’re not too faithful on Donghyuck’s mouthwash so you settle for the earlobe that isn’t pierced instead.

He loves the feeling, the activation of his erogenous area and the suction of your lips that resembles one of your favourite activities together.

“I like this shirt”, he starts, unbuttoning your chest into plain view, “and I love this skirt”

He runs his big hands over the plumpless of your ass, squeezing it then retracting his fingers back on your thighs. They’re cold against your burning skin and the contrast causes goosebumps to erupt in the shape of his handprint.

“You love all my skirts Johnny”

“I do. Because I can do this”

His fingers roll the hem of your skirt up your thigh, the only thing separating your heat with the smooth fabric of his slacks being your skimpy underwear. You’re pretty sure the wetness must be transferring to it already, your thoughts of Donghyuck and all the things he could do with you having you desperate for a release. Johnny pets your clit over your panties then, just a light graze of his finger that elicits a moan from you.

Your hips move on their own, slowly humping his thigh that flexes from under you. You grab his tie to help your movement when your pace picks up, enjoying his body heat that coated you. 

“Someone might see us.”

His desk chair was large, sure, but so was Johnny, and even though his back was facing the door of his office, no one could mistake the sight of you riding him as anything else. 

“I told you, Donghyuck keeps disappearing. And it seems like it won’t take you too long to cum with the way you moan like that, right babe?”

“Johnny…”

You were a whiny mess at this point, humping his leg to reach your high. He was nice enough to help you, his hands guiding you as you mess up all over him, lips stuck on the patch of skin right under your ear.

“You know, I kind of miss you calling me Mr. Suh.” he whispers as he’s sucking on your neck, and you shiver at the tone of his voice, “What do I have to do next time you come over to have you call me like that?”

You can’t contain your whimpers anymore, the stinging tears of arousal threatening to roll down your face, so you close your eyes to keep the moisture in. Everything is just too much, the pleasure of your clit rubbing on him, his nails that dig in the flesh of your hips, the heavy suggestions in his words; your orgasm was hanging by a thread and it was a matter of seconds for it to snap. And it did snap, with a bite on your neck, and along with it your eyes snapped open as well.

Donghyuck was staring right back at you.

Your eyes crossed in pleasure, blurry vision making it hard to focus on him. You were falling apart over Johnny’s body, legs shaking and insides melting with his praise. Donghyuck took the sight in from the opened door, eyes studying your face of pleasure and bare chest decorated with Johnny’s kisses peeking from his own shirt. You’d be lying had you dismissed the fact that his presence intensified your orgasm times a hundred. The exposure of your act, the naughtiness of getting caught and by him of all people. You watched as he retreated outside from the office with silent steps, to give you privacy or recover from the embarrassment or both.

And Donghyuck would be lying too, had he said he didn’t like the sight. The mere memory of your face all fucked out flushed his own in crimson red. He remembered it all clearly, from your plush lips to Johnny’s mess of a hair, to the tremble of your body. It refused to leave his mind, the scene of you getting satisfaction from another man, but not because he wanted to erase it. He thought he fit right in, right in that scene between you and his boss.  

You texted him later that day, apologizing for what he had to witness and promising him you would return the shirt as soon as you washed it. He politely allowed you to keep it, not at all acknowledging the incident from earlier, nor the night you spent together. You didn’t have the guts to ask, for you didn’t know that Donghyuck didn’t regard last night as a mistake, like you thought. He was tired of boiling in the guilt of his feelings, selfishly admitting to himself that he did not regret a single thing. He was into you, he meant every word that came out of his mouth, so why was he avoiding you all day yesterday? He was still the fucking coward.

The next day came rolling along, and with it came a long list of things you wanted to avoid. The first one was arguably dealing with your best friend, the lengthy paperwork you had to fill out being a close second.  

Your mind was occupied with a plethora of thoughts, with Johnny holding the main spot. You’d seen him in your sleep last night, starring in the extremely detailed wet dream your brain fabricated for you, hot breaths and deep thrusts forcing you into the disappointing consciousness of today’s morning.

And the pictures he had sent you right after you decided to get up weren’t helping either. His tall, half naked build occupied most of the shot, skin glistening in the after-shower steam. His toothbrush was hanging from his foamy mouth, in an attempt to make the picture look nonchalant, yet you knew his motives. You let your eyes drink up the sight of his defined abdomen, then moved downwards along the dark happy trail that peeked from the towel, loosely hanging from his waist. Hip bones teasing you and all. Just drop the fucking towel Johnny.

Needless to say, you were a mess when you arrived at the office. The cats in heat outside of your window, the phallic shaped baguette your baker generously treated you with this morning; everything seemed to remind you of the heat between your legs that you couldn’t bring yourself to ignore. You tried rubbing your thighs, drowning in the paperwork, even locking your phone in one of your drawers so as not to be tempted to look at Johnny’s thirst trap again. But he had won.

You grab a bunch of documents that seemed important enough, shove them in your favourite binder, and make your way to Johnny’s office upstairs. 

You knew you had to deal with Donghyuck. It was the unavoidable repercussion of messing up your life like that, getting men that were too good looking for this boring ass company tangled up in what seemed to be a simple internship. Taking a deep breath, then two more for good measure, you start to strut confidently in a straight line that led to Johnny’s office door.

“He’s on call, come back later.”

Your head instinctively turns to the source of the sound, to find Donghyuck staring at the display of his laptop that seemed to be much more interesting than you. The matter-of-fact way he formed his sentences was not unlike him, yet something in you begged for a little bit of attention. Blame it on how horny you’ve been all morning, or the fact that now that you’ve seen him naked, the strict tone affects you much more than it should.

Bothered by your thoughts and thinking about having to sit back at your office for the rest of the work day, you let the binder slip from your hands and drop on the wooden floor. You lean down to collect the scattered pieces of paper, your heels making it hard for you to keep your balance easily, and soon enough you sense a movement from behind you.

“No panties huh?”

It was supposed to be a surprise. Payback for the dirty thoughts Johnny planted in your head this morning. You’d walk in all innocently, sit right across his desk and give him a little Basic Instinct Sharon Stone moment. Then leave him high and dry again, while mentally keeping a note to clear out all your plans for the weekend. But see, he couldn’t give you what you wanted after all, and your resolve started to break. Whatever it was you wanted, you wanted it now.

You get up, unfolding your body slowly and refusing to look at Donghyuck, much like he did when you walked inside. The smirk playing on your lips couldn’t be concealed through your voice.

“Like what you see?”

You gasp as he presses up against you, the only contact you have with one another being his hard-on that nudges your ass. Following your body’s orders, you push back against him too, and you can tell the breath he lets out is ragged and full of tension.

He reaches for your binder with an arm around you, flipping through the pages as he sucks his teeth in disapproval.

“These are last week’s reports. Are you really here for these or are you looking for another quickie with Johnny?” A moan escapes you then, and the little thrust that Donghyuck allows himself drives you both crazy. “Thought so. How insatiable are you? I made you cum two nights ago, Johnny helped you out yesterday. If you really are that desperate you could’ve just come to me for help, doll”

His soft palm rests on the front of your thigh, slowly sliding his way under your skirt. You squirm in his hold in anticipation, and you have to bite your tongue to hold in the noises that threaten to leave you. 

“Donghyuck, Johnny is sitting right through that door. He could come out any minute now and see us”

“And?”

“Your boss is sitting right through that door. You could get fired”

“I could die after this”

His thumb ficks your clit swiftly, and Donghyuck takes this opportunity to slip his other one inside your gaping mouth.

“But-“

“Shh. Don’t talk with your mouth full, baby”

You’re melting in his hold at this point, your back still resting against his chest, lips sucking his digit. The scent of his cologne that you’ve grown so familiar with overwhelms you, painting all your surroundings in a red tint of lust.

“Spread your legs for me”. You oblige with his orders immediately, your arousal not allowing you to keep him waiting. “Wider”.

You take a quick look behind your shoulder to check that the door is still, indeed, closed, only to be met face to face with Donghyuck. His breath is hot against your face, eyes locked on his thumb toying with your lower lip and you completely forget what you initially turned around for. The kiss was natural, your lips melding easily with his ones. The need for him washes over you like a heatwave and you lift your skirt to urge him to continue before you go insane. 

He gets the hint and moves his hand lower, middle finger tracing your opening ever so slightly. It makes you shiver and you realise how quiet the room has fallen, the only source of sound coming muffled through the closed door to Johnny’s office. It excites you and it must show through the wetness between your lower lips, and Donghyuck patiently collects it all. He transfers the moisture over the bud of your clit, his finger smoothly massaging the sensitive skin. It feels divine and there’s no way you’d ask him to stop yet you know there’s something else Donghyuck is after, the sweet tightness that he didn’t get to experience that night at his apartment.

It was a bit much to fuck you out there like that, even for his exhibitionistic tendencies, but nothing could stop him from feeling the next best thing. 

His first finger enters you unhurriedly, careful of your reactions. You moan out his name and he moans at how tight you are, soft pussy practically sucking his finger in. He soon enters his ring finger as well, slowly moving them inside you until you feel every stretch and curl. Your wetness starts to drip at this point, coating his fingers with your juices.

“Such a dirty girl, making all this mess at my office”

The leisure pace ruins you, your eyes shut close in search of patience. You feel his other palm move from under your skirt as well, resting flat against your lower abdomen. He wants to feel himself inside you.

“Donghyuck, please. More”

A chuckle is heard from your left ear, and you can vividly imagine how his face must look like now. The cocky smirk, the tongue poking the inside of his cheek. The next pump has you muffling your whimpers with the back of your fist, his fingers curling just right and fucking straight into your g-spot. 

“More? Look at you. Pretty slut.” 

He’s full on finger fucking you now, and swallowing your moans is gradually becoming more and more difficult. The world crumbles from under your feet and you let yourself get carried away in the intense pleasure, the fast pumping making your legs shake.

“You’re gonna cum?”, he whispers again, and you can only respond with a nod, “That’s my fucking girl”

The orgasm’s intense, shaking you as you bite your hand and hold onto Donghyuck for extra support. He continues to move his fingers afterwards, drawing out your euphoria for as long as he can, then finally leaves you empty once your moans have died down. You immediately cover yourself up again once you sober up from your high, suddenly embarrassed by Donghyuck’s intense stare. He’s moving his eyes through all the features of your face, only for them to fall frozen on your lips, and lifts his hand up to rest his two fingers over them. You get his initiative and put them in your mouth, tasting yourself on your tongue.

“Unless you want us both to get fired I think you should go back to your office. I don’t think I can contain myself around you”

You release his digits with a pop, your eyes full of seduction.  

“What would you do to me?”

Donghyuck growls at your question, turning you around so that you’re fully face to face and chest to chest. 

“You’d look so pretty on your knees, mouth full of cock”. He grabs a handful of your ass, bringing you flush against him and proceeds to grind his painfully hard dick between your thighs. Your noses touch and you feel dizzy at the proximity; the words he mutters against your cum coated lips. “I’d peel those clothes off of you, find the nearest mirror. Stretch you out against the glass so that you see how good you take it.”

You shiver as a response, then force yourself to put some distance between you before you do something stupid. He kindly helps you collect your things in silence, those useless documents that were laying scattered on the floor, and in a moment of weakness you let him pin you against the wall right before you go.There was something so addictive about him and your chemistry, and your lips burn at the memory of his kisses. You’re not sure how much longer you can contain that hunger anymore.

The end of a shift and the beginning of another overtime. It felt like deja vu at this point, after all the countless extra hours you’ve put into the internship, seeing people grab their briefcases and their car keys as they empty the space around you. You take a moment to appreciate the view of the setting sun from the small window of your office, inhaling deeply as you wrap the hair that’s been bothering you in a ponytail. Your neck hurts and the tension of your body is translating into a dull pain, so you stretch it a little, bobbing your head from side to side.

You jump a little in your seat when you feel a set of hands on your shoulder blades. They massage the sore spots, treating the muscle knots and helping your blood flow freely. It was obvious Donghyuck didn’t have enough of you earlier, and you pout at having to turn down another visit to his apartment because of your overtime duties. 

You were ready to scold him off, tell him you’re busy and that you promise to make it up for him another time, when you feel his soft lips kissing the most sensitive spot on the slope of your neck. You let out a long sigh, subconsciously exposing your neck more for him, and a high pitched whine rumbles in your chest. It’s released as a moan of Donghyuck’s name.

“Donghyuck?!”

You freeze in the uncomfortable arch, your ears confused by the deepness of the voice belonging to the man behind you. Not even the confusion laced in it can cover up the lack of airiness and clarity you’re used to when it comes to Donghyuck’s tone. It’s Johnny.

“I… We-“

You’re left speechless, clueless as to what to say next. You know you don’t have to explain yourself, it’s not like you and Johnny are exclusive. Yet his shocked face at the sound of his assistant’s name coming so lewdly off your lips has your brain scrambling to find some sort of explanation. Thankfully, he’d interrupt your panic in a second.

“The big boss wants you upstairs. I offered to come get you.”

He doesn’t sound angry or upset, nor disappointed. It’s a fresh air of relief before you realize that this is not what you should worry about right now. What the hell does the CEO of the company want to talk to you about? Are you getting the boot? It must be it, but why? Your numbers have been great, you’re always on time - except that one morning, but technically it was Donghyuck’s fault - and you’ve been praised by your supervisor numerous times during your internship.

Unless- What if there’s cameras in the office? 

You start to panic at the thought of an involuntary sex tape become the cause of your dismissal, so caught up in your thoughts that you’re completely unaware you’ve spent the entire trip up the stairs with Johnny in silence. When you enter the CEO’s office, heartbeat echoing loudly in your ears, you notice that all of the department’s supervisors are present in the impromptu meeting as well. You sit next to Johnny, in an attempt to calm yourself down, and you see the head of your department send you an encouraging smile.

“Shall we start?”

A briefing of your work in the company ensued, numbers and graphs that wouldn’t make sense to anyone other than the people in the room. Thirty minutes have passed and no surveillance tape has been whipped out, turning you more confused than ever. The numbers were good, the words from your supervisor are complimentary, so why would they fire you? 

“That is all for the briefing. After seeing your progress and the contribution you’ve made to the company, we’ve decided to offer you a permanent position, if you’d be interested of course”

Oh my god. You can’t believe this day finally came. Your face was glowing, and you tried to convince yourself to stay calm while you talked about your new position and the raise in salary that came with it. With shaky hands you sign the documents, and your boss congratulates you once again, dismissing you off your overtime. 

You waited for everyone to leave the hallway before jumping in Johnny’s arms. He caught you easily, strong build supporting you and lifting your feet off the ground before landing you safely again.

“Good job intern, I’m so proud of you”

“Hey, I’m not an intern anymore!”, you complain by bumping his chest with your fist and he pats your head lovingly in return.

“Why did you have to be in the room as well? Did you know about my promotion?”

“No, actually, they just told me an hour ago. It was hard to keep myself from telling you everything right away.”

The excitement coursed through you, and a sudden urge to kiss him until your lips were numb overwhelmed you. You were ready to turn your thoughts into reality, when you saw Donghyuck from the corner of your eye, instinctively smiling at your obvious happiness.

“What’s the occasion?”

“I got promoted!”

Donghyuck gasped, a huge smile spreading across his face. Your excitement’s contentious so he tackles you without a second thought, his embrace so tight that you can barely breathe. You can see that he’s trying his best to contain a kiss, his glance moving back and forth between you and Johnny. He still kept a possessive hand around your waist once he let you down however, a gesture that could seem innocent yet you knew better.

Johnny smirks at the sight of you two, confidence dripping off his body and making you shiver. You get dizzy at the thought of Donghyuck not knowing that Johnny knows about you, yet Donghyuck knowing about Johnny but not giving a fuck.

“So how do we celebrate?”, the older man asks, with a playful tone that might as well be your active imagination.

“Wanna go for a drink?”, Donghyuck suggests, boldly keeping his eyes at you only while he does so.

You pout in thought, humming pensively when an idea pops into your head. 

“How about you come over my place for one?”

You should have thought this through more thoroughly, is all you can think about as you’re trapped between Johnny and Hyuck on your couch. Well, not really- there is a sizable distance between you three, yet the atmosphere in the room is so dense it’s nearly palpable. Three glasses, half-full of the alcohol of their choice are sitting on the coffee table in front of you, and you awkwardly stare at the sweat that falls from your glass and forms rings on the wooden surface. 

Your body has loosened up from your drink yet your heart can’t stop racing, not when Donghyuck is looking at you like that. He looks like a man starved for days while you’re the meal presented deliciously in his arm’s reach, and he can’t wait to have you alone and curve his growing appetite. And you ignore Johnny’s cheeky smiles and flirtatious winks as well, carrying on a conversation that doesn’t belong in the inescapable tone of the room but flows easily, until it ends and you’re met with heavy silence and the ticking analog clock on your wall again.

You ask them if they would like some water, getting up before you receive an answer, and you yelp a little when you feel a strong arm halting your trip to the kitchen before it even started. You lose your balance and wobble a little in your spot before unceremoniously landing on Johnny’s lap.

He doesn’t help you up, but loops and arm around your waist instead, holding you in place. In circumstances other than the ones that have already made their mark on your sexual history, staying in this position with his assistant still in the room would be highly inappropriate.

“You’re all we need”, he reassures you with a voice made of silk, then repositions you with a jerk of his knee, your heat grinding right against his half hard member.

“When were you gonna tell me?”

You open and close your mouth sequentially like a fish out of water, choking out a reply after the insistent tick-tock that resonates through the room and gives a tempo to your anxiety.

“I’m sorry?”

“You know what I’m talking about. A little birdy told me I’m not the only one enjoying this perfect little body. Is that right Donghyuck?”

Donghyuck’s eyes bulged out of his skull, almost choking in the sip of the drink he was enjoying when the unexpected question hit him. Sizzling heat floods your face as he stares at you sternly, and you shake your head defensively.

“I didn’t tell him-“

“Well no, not exactly”, Johnny interrupts and places his big hands over your thighs, “I was just kissing her neck, trying to get her to relax, and lo and behold, she starts moaning your name like its a fucking reflex. You’ve really gotten into her head, apparently”

Donghyuck swells up in pride, that much is evident, yet he’s way too distracted to say anything in response, too busy staring at Johnny’s fingers spreading your thighs apart to expose your damp underwear. Johnny’s lips are planted on your neck, teeth nibbling on your earlobe and you wince when you feel the sharp sting of a slap on your inner thigh.

“You aren’t being a good hostess, baby. Open up your legs more, let Hyuck see your pretty pussy. You remember what word to say when you want me to stop, right?” You whimper the designated safe word while opening your thighs further, digging the heels of your feet in the couch’s pillows. “Good girl”

He dips a hand through the band of your underwear, busying his fingers under the fabric. You moan as they slide through the wetness and he smiles a cocky smile when he sees Donghyuck palming himself through his slacks. He removes the skimpy thong with the help of your hips moving to assist him, to then push the fabric inside your mouth with little to no resistance from you.

“Isn’t this pussy divine? I swear when I bottomed out inside of her the first time I thought I lost my damn mind”

He toys with your opening, only dipping half a finger in to challenge Donghyuck to pay attention.

“We haven’t actually…”

“She only let you play with her?”, Johnny teases him, then pushes his point and middle finger all the way inside you, making his assistant’s imagination run wild at what your pussy must feel like sucking him in. “You’re missing out man”

“I’ve made her cum probably twice as many times as you’ve ever have”

You chuckle at his smart remark and Johnny glares at you, softly slapping your pussy to keep you at bay.

“No one addressed you. You’ll get to make all the noise you want in a sec, baby”

You squirm in place, letting out a muffled apology through your gag and Donghyuck looks seriously affected by the sight.

“Isn’t she obedient?”, Johnny asks while grazing your g-spot, and you moan from both the praise and the stimulation.

Hyuck unbuttons his pants at the lewd sound, pulling his dick from the slit of his boxers and you admire his impressive girth. He lets his body decline comfortably on the pillows behind him, spreading his own legs at shoulder-length. The mouth-watering sight of him jerking himself slowly with the aid of his precum clouds your vision; you’re just as needy for him as he is for you.

“She’s a little brat”

“I guess I know how to make her listen”. Johnny lifts your dress over your hips, then helps you off of it through the hem. With a rehearsed flick of his fingers he discards your bra as well, leaving you completely naked for Donghyuck’s eyes to feast on. His hands immediately grope your breasts, playing with the mounds and putting on a show. “I could undress you over and over and over again”

You feel his fingers retract from inside your pussy to form a ‘V’ over your lower lips, making your hole even more visible along with the wetness that’s dripping out of it.

“Will you let Donghyuck use your pussy baby? I feel a little greedy using it all on my own”

You groan in the anticipation and let your head fall back on Johnny’s shoulder, nodding pathetically and mumbling through your thong.

“Oh god, yes, yes, yes”

Donghyuck has heard enough, and with Johnny urging him on he’s standing half naked in front of you in seconds. His boxers are discarded next to his trousers on the floor, tie hanging loosely from the collar. He still has a hand wrapped around his angry sex, red tip and veiny details making you swoon.

“Go on”, Johnny encourages him, “she’s more than wet enough”

Donghyuck rests his left knee on the cushion of the couch, right between your foot and Johnny’s thigh. A little foiled square is getting ripped by his nimble fingers and you bewitchedly watch him wrap up his cock. He slaps it over your entrance a couple times, coming in contact with the other man’s fingers that are still keeping you fully exposed, then finally thrusts himself inside you. A conglomerate of what seems like three different curses leave his lips, eyebrows furrowed in a pleasureful expression.

“Fuck”

“Tight, isn’t she?”

“So fucking tight baby, damn”

Johnny may have a cock so lengthy that most men are envious of, yet Donghyuck’s girth is really something else. It stretches you out more than you've had in months, dull pain getting numb with every release of serotonin from your brain. You almost cry when he removes the entire thing out of you.

“I have to feel that again”

And indeed he does, submerging himself in the tightness of your walls only his fingers had the privilege of experiencing thus far. You feel amazing wrapped up around him, pussy hot and burning in desire as he dips himself further inside you, pushing you up against Johnny’s chest. You hiss in the sting and whimper softly, prompting the man behind you to ungag you finally.

“What is it baby? Hyuckie’s dick is too big for your tight little hole?”

You nod affirmatively while keeping eye contact with the man mentioned, big glossy eyes awakening something dark inside him. He wants to ruin you.

“Maybe you don’t fuck her hard enough”

You can’t see Johnny from the way you’re seated but you know he must have a smile on his face, well aware of the confidence he possesses for his own abilities in the bedroom. His big hands leave your labia and make their way over to your calves, bending you in a way that is almost painful.

“How about you show me how it’s done, then?”

Donghyuck is always up for a challenge, so he wraps a hand loosely around your throat so as to gain leverage. He pulls his hips backwards, gaining momentum, then slaps them forcefully against your own. You moan loudly at the depth, hands scrambling to find something to hold on to as he’s nailing you against the couch. Johnny’s there to catch your sounds with his lips, eating them up eagerly as he slips his tongue inside you and continues to play with your nipples. 

“Is that hard enough for you?”

Continuing his brutal pace restlessly, Donghyuck tightens his grasp around your neck, enough to hamper your blood flow and drool around the other man’s mouth. You’re so out of it at this point, dirty sound after another leaving your lips and you gasp at Johnny’s fingers that are suddenly circling around your clit.

“I’m close, please”, you manage to whimper from between them, Hyuck’s pace only fastening in the sound of your plea. The tip of his cock, thick like the rest of him, grazes against your sensitive spot again and again, not missing a single thrust. He digs a thumb in the softness of your cheek, pulling you away from Johnny and connecting his forehead with yours. By the sounds of his grunts it won’t take long until he comes as well.

“Made just for me”, he whispers against your lips, and you gasp when you feel the heat overflowing in your sex area, vision blurry as you let go and scream in complete pleasure. Donghyuck basks in the confirmation of how good he’s made you feel, hips stuttering as he empties his cum in you and inside the condom. His thigh muscles may be contracting in tiredness yet he doesn’t halt his movements, milking your orgasm for all its worth. You’re basically putty in Johnny’s lap at this point, sex drunk and high from your release.  

“Not bad”, he admits, even though he had some credit to claim with the fast fingerwork he showed earlier. He holds your thighs again, closing them up to help you relax and you wince at the pain in your haunch, the result of staying in a flexibility-demanding position for so long.

You wait until your heartbeat slows down, turning around to face Johnny as Donghyuck ties up and discards the used condom. He sends you a warm smile, petting the messy hair out of your line of sight and you relax in the feeling of safety, batting your eyes up at him cutely.

“What about you?”, you practically meow, moaning softly as you feel his boner twitching from beneath his trousers.

“What about me? Didn’t you have enough?” 

He knows your appetite, knows there’s no way you’d be satisfied by one round only. And how could you, when he sits so deliciously from under you, his big body reeling you in. You know what he wants to hear.

“Please, Johnny”, you plead, playing with the thin tie still neatly keeping his shirt in place. “I need you”

“You need what?”, he growls against your lips, trying to coax as much desperation out of you as possible.

“I need your big cock inside me, please”

“Ass up”

You get up from your seat, complying with his commands and getting on your knees before your tired legs betray you and leave you a mess on the floor.  His hands cup your ass in admiration, giving it a little spank before he slides them over your dorsals. A careful push forces you to arch your back even more, and your cheeks burn at the eager position he has bent you in. You shiver when his cock enters you halfway.

“You’re still not used to me babe?”

“It’s not my fault that you’re so fucking big, Johnny”

“Then maybe I should stay still? Since you can’t take it?”

“No!”, you oppose, tears of frustration threatening to spill out of their ducts, “I can take it, just move!”

You howl as he bottoms out, his long length making you lose your mind. It’s been a while since you’ve had anything more than his fingers and you’ve missed the way he fits inside of you. You hear shuffling from behind you and soon he’s bending over you, wrapping his tie around your neck. With a pull you’re flush against his chest again, and the buttons of his shirt are already leaving little indentations on your skin. You wish it bruises.

“Do you remember what I wanted you to call me the other day?”, he whispers next to the shell of your ear, dark tone sending shivers down your spine.

“Mr. Suh”

“Exactly. Now will you let me fuck you the way I want?”

“Yes sir”

“What a good girl”

Johnny slams into you fully, every pull of his hips resulting in the restriction of your airflow. A game of wanting more of him and sacrificing your oxygen for it begins, and it doesn’t take long for you to turn completely into a submissive mess for him. He’s whispering filth in your ears, hips keeping their inhuman tempo until you’re all out of energy and fall nonvocal. Donghyuck gets hard again at the sight.

It doesn’t go unnoticed by Johnny, who is more than willing to share your body for the pleasure he’s after- at least part of it. He waits until the younger man’s dick is fully solid in his grasp, standing tall and red right in front of you and he lets go of the constraint of your neck without notice.

You fall face first on Donghyuck’s thick thighs, his quick reflexes catching you from a harder impact. His member is twitching right next to your face, tip grazing against your left temple and he helps your head up by wrapping your hair in a makeshift ponytail that his fingers hold together. You wrap your lips around his tip obediently, twirling your tongue around his member until you reach his hairy base. He tastes a bit rubbery from the condom earlier but you choose to ignore it, focusing on hollowing your cheeks around him instead.

Every hard thrust of Johnny’s propels you forward onto Donghyuck’s cock, the bobbing motion natural yet you struggle to take them both inside you. Donghyuck enjoys the vibrations of the moans you make when the other man hits a deep spot in your pussy, Johnny groans when you clench around him as Donghyuck abuses your throat. It’s a give and take of intense pleasure and you know you can’t take much more, the men’s moans growing louder with every thrust. 

“Do you like Hyuck’s cock needy baby? Have you finally had enough?”

He punctuates each word with a slam, one harder than the other, and the rope inside your belly snaps with the arrival of your second orgasm. You try your hardest to stay in place, beg your thighs not to let you collapse as you let Johnny drive you into overstimuation.

“Yes, sir. I love it”

Johnny grunts at the sound of his title, so dirty coming muffled by another man’s dick that it’s enough to send him over the edge. You feel the hot cum filling up the condom inside you, and his spurts take so long that the little tweaks coax another orgasm from you.

Donghyuck drinks up the scene unveiling in front of him, a steady hand forcing your jaw open as he starts to jerk off quickly over your face.

“I want to see your tongue covered in my cum”

You lick your lips seductively in response, opening your mouth up to welcome his ropes of white liquid that leave his slit a second after. They fill your mouth little by little, painting the inside of it and you hold your tongue out to show him his creation, a couple of drops dripping from the corners before you swallow as much as you can. He collects whatever’s left on your jaw, pushing it in and letting you suckle on his thumb dumbly before letting go.

You collapse on the couch, exhausted after giving all that your body could handle after a work day, and you sit in silence as Johnny massages your feet and Donghyuck kisses your neck to calm you down. Your head hurts from the sex and the possibilities that this new combination can bring to your love life, belly tingling in excitement at the same time. You don’t know where this will lead, or when will be the next time you’ll indulge in the company of the both of them stuck on your body. All that you know is that this promotion, at least the celebration of it, tastes really, really sweet. 

thank you for reading ❤ feedback is much appreciated! If you liked Promotion you can check out Work for it to see where it all started! :) 

[celinolesunshine]

Eyes Colored Sun, Mouth Like The Moon

A SUN/MOON X GN! READER FANFIC

CHAPTER FIVE: overheat

chap. 1 || chap. 2 || chap. 3 || chap. 4 || chap. 5

~~~~~~~~~~

‘Bright like the sun’, they said. That’s when they decided to call you 'sunflower’, because they couldn’t read your nametag. He called you 'starlight’, because of how you shone in his eyes.

It didn’t take long to warm up to the dual persona of the daycare attendant, and somehow you found yourself.. drawn to them? You weren’t sure, but you had the feeling you would be in it for the long haul.

It was only after months of working alongside them, however, you began to notice a change in Moon. he was… different. More distant, perhaps; and a shorter fuse to boot. They had you invested, and you were determined to figure out what was wrong.

~~~~~~~~~~

you've gotten sleep, but.. Thómas is having a bit of a crisis.

Oh yeah; Sunny is, too.

overheat

--

When you wake up, you immediately take note of the fact that you’re significantly better rested than you had been in weeks.

You look up to see a slightly disgruntled Moon, still cradling you in his arms. Once you realise this, you can feel every point of contact from where your body meets his. A hand on your knee, an ankle grazing your inner calf, a forearm buried against your hip and the cushion you’re laid upon. 

He’s peering down at you and twitching in all of these weird ways beneath you, and when you met his eyes, you were startled to find them blazing bright red again. Had the rewire failed already? 

“You okay, Moondrop? Buddy?” you exhale in relief as Moon’s eyes blink white, and then back to blue as he hears your voice. 

As much as he can muster, he smiles. 

“I.. wanted to watch you.. Wake, st-starlight. It’s too.. too bright– Sun’s awak-awake, wants to.. see you, but.. I had to.. gi-give you my regards.. first.” 

He’s glitching out and spasming the entire time, his voice cutting out and warping around his words every couple of seconds, and it seems painful, but you felt your heart swell at how much he was sacrificing just to watch you open your eyes. 

You grin softly and caress his cheek. It’s shockingly hot against your skin, likely from the effort of holding himself in front. “Thank you for helping me sleep. You can let Sunny come on out now.” 

Whirring, Moon quits resisting the change letting himself fade away into his and Sun’s shared headspace, and his eyes close, his nightcap falling away as Sun’s rays slide out from beneath his faceplate. You had never watched them switch before, and you gasp softly as the black plate beside the carved portion of their face slots into the moon, revealing a silver under-skeleton for a moment before an orange one slips out and clicks into place, Sun’s eyes opening to reveal a bright yellow colour. 

He’s melancholy for just a second, before beaming brightly down onto you. “Hellloooo, sunshine! Good morning!” 

You sit up from Sun's lap, the planets from the previous night sloughing off of your body. 

“Hey, Sunny.” 

Rubbing the final bits of sleep from your eyes, you begin to stand, careful not to crush any part of his body as you make your way out of your little nest. 

“Your vitals are much better after Moony helped put you to bed, sunflower! Are you feeling better?” He asks, picking up the blankets you had shed and folding them into neat little squares with an acute proficiency, which he sets in a little pile next to where you stand. 

Gripping onto the ledge of one of the platforms, you nod. “Actually, yeah, I feel.. a lot better. I could use some food, though. That, and probably a hairbrush.” 

Sun laughs, static crackling over his speakers. “Yes, your hair does look very silly! I think Roxy should have one somewhere! She was juuuuuust here visiting… I’ll look for you!” 

And he darts off, in which you follow, not really having better to do anyways. You glance briefly at your watch, which reads 6:24 A.M. It was still fairly early. What time had you gone to sleep, anyways? It felt like you had slept a lot, despite the time being all out of whack for your normal bedtime. 

Eventually, Sun scrambles back to you (you gave up running after him once he climbed up his tower below the ball pit. No way were you traversing that this time of day), a bright green brush in hand, which he hands to you triumphantly. You run it through your hair as Sun starts to run away again. He does a full 180, and then another, and then another. You set the brush down, finished with it now, and walk up to him. 

“You okay?” 

Sun squeaks and twists around to look at you. “Uhhhh.. yes, yes, I’m fine! I just.. I wanted to get you food, but.. I don’t like to leave the daycare.” 

You laugh at his sheepish explanation. “It’s okay, Sun, I can just run out and get something to eat before I have to start helping you get ready for the day. I appreciate the sentiment, though.” You pat his upper arm, and he smiles radiantly. 

“Sorry, sunlight..” 

You shush him. “Sun, I don’t need– no, I don’t want you to go sacrificing your boundaries just because you want to help me. The thought itself is nice alone, so there’s no need to worry about it!” 

Sun nods, and you can hear a happy whirring begin in his chest. “Now, go, go! Get the food you need– I’ll be here when you get back!” 

With one last glance over your shoulder, you climb the stairs to exit the daycare. 

*.·:·.☽✧    ✦    ✧☾.·:·.*

“Mx., Mx.!” Thómas cries. You snap around to catch the familiar glow of his face amongst all of the little children shuffling through the daycare lobby, checked in and ready to start playing for the day. As you catch sight of him, your chest tightens with pride. 

It seems that Thómas has taken your advice, because today, he’s clad in a sparkly purple blouse and heart-printed leggings. A little bow adorns the collar of his shirt, and a large headband holds back his fluffy bangs from his face. When he meets your eyes, he glows. 

“Look at me! I borrowed these pretty things from my sister! You said I could wear anything I wanted, right? So look!” 

You crouched down to hold him in your arms as he jumps up to grasp onto your torso gleefully. “Does your sister come here, too? I haven’t seen her!” You crane your neck around in a show of perplexion.

Thómas shakes his head. “No, she.. she’s at home. She’s, uh.. she’s sick, so mommy stays at home to take good care of her.” 

You rub his back comfortingly, a pang of guilt blossoming in your stomach. “Oh, Thómas, I'm sorry, honey; I didn’t mean to make you sad about it.” 

He scrambles out of your arms, hands on his hips proudly. “No, I’m okay, see? No tears! Mommy says it’s okay to talk about her even if she’s not here forever, so I like to talk about her.” 

With a smile, you take his hand as he leads you down the stairs to the main daycare floor. “Was there anything else pretty of your sister’s you saw that you want to wear tomorrow?” You said, trying to take his mind off of her illness, at the very least. 

Faltering a moment, Thómas’ grip on your hand goes slack. “Well.. I saw this super pretty dress of Hannah’s that I want to try on really bad, but mommy says that those things are only for girls– kind of like makeup.” 

His eyebrows knit together, and his fingers anxiously play with the hem of his blouse. You set a hand on his shoulder gently, coaxing him to look up and into your eyes. 

“I can see why your mommy says that, Thómas. Those things were made for girls, originally, it’s true, but that doesn’t mean that boys can’t wear them, too.” With a sigh, Thómas plops down on one of the plastic picnic benches near the art area, and you follow, kneeling next to him. 

“But why do people have to think that I can’t wear girl’s things? I.. I.. I want to wear girls' things– it makes me really happy!” 

You were not qualified to have this conversation. Still, you refused to leave Thómas alone with his thoughts, and you truly wanted to help him figure out how to get past his anger. 

“I know, Thómas, and I’m sorry that I can’t help yo-” 

Slamming his fists on the table, Thómas finally shouts, “Why couldn’t I have just been born a girl?! Then everything would have been easier!” And he begins to cry. 

Oh, goodness.. 

Panicking, you look around, hoping to find– oh, and there he was. Sun materialises beside you almost as if he knew you had subconsciously summoned him. Seeing Thómas breaking down on the table, he immediately goes into care mode. 

“Oh, sunrays! My goodness, what’s happened here, huh? Is everything okay?!” 

Thómas sniffles harshly through his sadness, eyes glazed over with wetness as large globs of tears streak down his cheeks. 

“I.. I just wish mommy.. would have made me a girl, instead of a boy! I- I don’t want to be a boy anymore!” He sobs, and Sun’s surprised for a second, his torso doing a spin-around to glance at you, seemingly saying you broke the child, To which you shoot back a look that says I don't know what I did, but please.. help me. 

“Goodness me, sunshine, it sounds like those are some pretty big feelings! Do you want a hug? Or we can just talk about it? Sometimes, that helps too!” 

With a watery smile, Thómas extends his arms out to Sun, who scoops him up in his arms, squeezing him tightly and spinning him around until he begins to giggle, squirming underneath his grip. 

“Okay, okay, put me down now, please! Please!” Thómas squeals, to which Sun obliges and sets Thómas back down. “Feeling better, friend?” 

He nods. “Sorry, Mr. Sun. I didn’t mean to get all sad.” 

“It’s okay, sunbeam! Being sad is okay; I can be okay with people feeling big things.” You grin at Sun’s unwavering support. It was amazing, the way that he managed to draw Thómas back down to earth with just his energy alone. 

“So, are you mad because you don’t want to be a boy anymore?” He asks, crouching down to meet Thòmas at eye level. Honestly, that in of itself is a feat, given his height.

Thómas looks indecisive for a moment, but then he looks Sun in the eye and nods. “I don’t like being a boy, anyway. Daddy calls me ‘little prince' and it makes me feel all twisty in my belly.” 

Sun looks to you, bewildered. “Well.. Does it feel better if I call you ‘princess’ instead?” And Thómas’ face lit up. 

“W- that makes me feel twisty but in a good way! Uh, but I’m not a girl, though, I’m still a boy..” Sun laughs. 

“Thómas, you don’t have to be born a girl to want to be one! You can be whoever you want to be, sunray.” 

“MR. SUNNY, COULD YOU COME HERE FOR A SECOND?!” Another kid called, garnering Sun’s full attention. His head pricks up, and he whirls around like a cat, searching for the source of the noise. 

And he’s gone. 

“Thómas, I think it’s really cool how you’ve managed to find that out about yourself. I’m really proud of you.” You say, turning to him. He grins broadly at you, and wraps his chubby arms around your waist, cheeks flushed bright red.

“Thank you, Mx., for helping me. I don’t want to make anyone feel bad things, but sometimes I feel bad things, too and it makes me want to be really, really loud.” 

Chuckling lightly, you pat Thómas’ back and stand up. “It’s alright, Thómas. I’ll be back later, okay? Just let me know if you need anything.” 

*.·:·.☽✧    ✦    ✧☾.·:·.*

The rest of the day was rather uneventful, with Thómas seeming to have quieted down by snack time and finding a quiet, secluded corner to settle and do their art throughout the afternoon. They ran exuberantly to his dad once the day was over, so at least they were happy enough to be excited by pickup. 

Then, after cleanup was over, you approached Sun with a smile. “Hey, Sun.” 

Sun whirled around and grinned as he saw you standing below him. “Hello, sunflower! Are you okay?” You nod in response.

“Yeah, no, I’m okay; That whole thing with Thómas was pretty scary today, though. I had no idea what I was doing. I mean, he says he wants to be a girl now! Does– I mean, I said yesterday that he could wear anything that he wanted because He saw me in ‘quote, unquote’, “boy’s clothes”, but I didn’t mean for it to turn into.. well, into this!” You blurt.

Sun shakes his head carefully, setting down the box of miscellaneous coloured pencils and markers that he had been carrying. “No, sunlight, I don’t think that makes anything your fault.” 

With a vague hand gesture, he continues, “Just because you told Thómas that they could be anything that they wanted to be or wear what they wanted to wear doesn't mean that you’re the one responsible for them coming to the realisation that they want to be a girl!” 

You shrug. Maybe he was right. “Yeah, I get that, but..” you huff, crossing your arms together. “What if Thómas gets in trouble and his parents think that I told him he should be a girl! I mean, you didn’t hear what he said about how his mom wouldn’t let him wear the dress he wanted. He’s only five, Sun! I’m not questioning his ability to decide his own identity, but they’re gonna blame me if they find out!” 

You’re panting now, and your face is flushed red out of embarrassment. Turning away from Sun angrily, you walk towards one of the play structures. “Sunshine, please, just calm down, we can– we can play a game! Or sit down, that works too!” 

Tears sting at the corners of your eyes, and you continue to stomp away from him. “I don’t want to talk about it right now! Ca– can I just see Moon, please? Will he come out?” 

The room goes silent.

Not even the sound of Sun’s internal mechanics can be heard over the weight of the silence that blankets you. Immediately you whirl around, but Sun’s eye’s have dilated, simulating little while pupils while he’s frozen in place, his breathing mechanisms seemingly having completely stopped altogether. 

“You.. y-” He can’t even formulate a sentence, the static emulating over his internal speakers so thick that he kept choking on his words. And then he’s gone, slipping through the clearing hole and disappearing into the play structures. 

Frantically, you follow him. “Sunny! Sun, please, I didn’t mean–” You discover that he’s covering his head with his hands on the other side of the clearing, and his breathing mechanics are back on, because he’s panting as hard as you had been a moment before. 

“Sunny..” you breathed. 

You laughed incredulously. “Sun, bug, are you.. jealous?” 

His eyes widened as you stepped towards him. You could hear his internal fans working overtime now, buzzing loudly in his chest cavity as if a swarm of bees had taken refuge inside of him. 

“I’m.. I’m obviously inputting an emotion that I wasn’t programmed to have, it’s.. I don’t know what’s happening to me, sunshine, but it’s best if you stay back!” 

You stepped forward, and he stepped back. A crazed look glossed over his features, his eyes still blazing a glaring white colour, and his hands rose up to his chest defensively. You knew that he was unstable at this point, trying hard to understand what was happening to him, and you wanted to help, but.. He was afraid to hurt you. 

“Sunny, calm down, it’s okay.” 

His hands begin to shake, and his back bumps into the play structure behind him as you attempt to calm him, but he only gets more restless in response, his gaze darting back and forth between where he’s trapped against the wall and you. His fingers tangle and swirl together nervously, lowering just for a moment as he’s fixated on your determined gaze, rubbing his palms on his pants in a show of anxiety. He’s freaking out, and you can tell, and you keep trying to get closer, to help, to show him that it’s okay, but he’s still upset, and it’s overwhelming you, and–

Your hands break his guard and press against his chest, snapping Sun out of his panic momentarily. You feel your eyes begin to well up as his flicker back to yellow accordingly. You hurriedly blink the moisture away.

“Please, Sun. Please, just. Shh.. It’s alright.” You plead. You couldn’t stand to see him like this, confused and panicked and scared. 

He begins to settle as his eyes lock onto yours, his focus not on his internal functions now but instead on you. He smiles apologetically. 

“I’m sorry, sunlight; I just don’t understand what’s happening to me right now.” He whispers. 

“”It’s okay, Sun. I.. I think you’re upset about Moon getting more of my time than you.” You purposely left out the part where you specifically asked for Moon in your dispute a few minutes prior. 

You take your hands away from Sun’s chest and give him some breathing room, allowing him to unstick himself from the play structure wall. He begins to sit down a few feet from you, but then decides against it and springs back up to meet you face-to-face. Anxiously, he attempts to meet your gaze. 

“I was mad about what you said, but I was also mad about how Moony wouldn’t let me out to see you when you woke up this morning– doesn that make me ‘jeloos’, like you said?” He speculates. 

You nod. “In a way, yeah. Were you mad because you wanted to spend more time with me?” 

Sun’s head bops up and down as he nods vigorously in agreement. 

You can’t help but laugh. “Then yeah. I would say that’s jealousy.” 

As minutes pass, the silence around the two of you grows gentle, draped over the both of you like a blanket that muffles out the sounds of the world. 

Instinctively, you reach your hand up to meet Sun’s cheek. He smiles softly and nuzzles his face deeper into your palm, the metal frame becoming warm beneath your touch. After a moment, he moves closer, takes another step..

..and he’s enveloping you, arms snaking around your torso as he slots himself against you gently. You grin into his embrace, unable to help yourself. You hug him back. 

Sun squeezes you tightly, little beeping noises coming from his insides. You let your arms rest along his back, letting yourself lean some of your weight onto his nimble metal frame. 

This was nice; the way that the world seemed to become smaller in his arms, and how you could feel Sun’s anxiety disappear the longer he clung to you. It was therapeutic, in a way - the two of you could sit with the silence, hand-in-hand, in a way that didn’t really seem to require any work from either of you. 

You let your hand trace patterns across his back, swirling and twisting in little shapes and lines. The world stood deathly silent all around you, but as of now, it was calming. 

Then, somewhere deep inside of Sun’s chest, where you had never really heard before, began a rumbling. It was a steady, slow, contented sound, but it made you jump as it began to really pick up. 

Sun flinched out of your arms, seemingly just as surprised as you. His eyes were frenzied once again, and the rumbling stopped, only to be replaced by the whir of his fans kicking back on. 

“Sun, what was that?” You questioned.

He looks up towards the ceiling, eyes fluttering as he scrolls through his internal terminal functions, attempting to place the code calling for.. whatever that was. 

He seems to find what he’s looking for, because he makes a pleased ‘ah’ noise and his eyes shift back to a softened yellow colour. 

“I think it’s another thing I've developed. It’s a glitch, I believe!” He laughs. 

You laugh in response to him, as well. “It kind of sounds like purring. Like, from a cat.” 

When Sun gives you a quizzical expression, you provide, “..You do know what a cat is, right?” 

He nods. “I was just trying to find out how the two matched, that’s all!” 

You slink back into his arms, and happily, the rumbling noise starts again; Sun seems flustered by it, trying to get it to quiet down, but he’s not in control of it anymore, and the closer you nuzzle up to him, the louder the ‘purring’ gets. 

“Sunbeam, I, uh–” The rumbling noise warbles his voice as he tries to push you away, but he can’t speak properly. 

“It’s alright, Sunny; I think it’s nice.” It grows until it rattles your bones as you’re standing there, embracing him tightly, and Sun gives up trying to push you - or the sound - away. He sinks into you, deeper and deeper until his weight grows against you so much that you can hardly hold him up against you anymore. 

You move your head up to find out whether he’s gone into sleep mode or not, and you end up bumping your lips up against his cheek, your tooth knocking against your upper lip. “Ow, shit!” 

The purring noise stutters and ends up fizzing out like a steam engine cutting off, and Sun falls slack against you. “Ack, jesus christ, Sun, what the–” 

You move out of his arms, but he just falls to the floor. “Sunny! What the hell, oh my god!” 

Hastily, you roll him over, and you discover what the issue was– He overheated. You could understand it now, because as you touched him, he was blazing hot, and his eyes were open but completely blacked-out, static crackling gently over his speakers. 

“Shit, I completely screwed you.. Man, Moon’s going to be pissed at me once I wake you guys up.” You grabbed an arm and began to tug Sun’s body towards an air conditioning vent. The air was cool there, so you left his limp form in front of the frosty area for a while. You leaned up against his splayed torso, and waited patiently for him to reboot.

Note to self? Don’t overstimulate Sun. He’ll pass out.