#feel free 2 go in it n say “FIRST!!!” while i wait 4 tumblr 2 allow me 2 add sideblogs 2 it......

[knick-knack-paddy-whack]

Bruhhh ma tumblr community got approved but I'm ONLY ALLOWED 2 USE IT ON MA MAIN ACCOUNT..... THIS IS BS!!!!!

anygays its empty but it's 4 homestuck sourced ppl, hmu if u want an invite ;D

[rip-quizilla]

Impossible to Hate You ~ Part 5

Pairing: Eddie Munson x fem!Reader

Summary: Everything is falling- leaves from the trees, rain from the sky, you for Eddie, and Eddie for you.

Word Count: 10.1 K

A/N: Big thanks to @the-unforgivenn (happy birthday❤️) for all of the help you gave me on this chapter, and honestly this whole fic in general. You've been an invaluable part of the writing process of this story, and the fact that you care so much about Eddie & Ace just makes me feel so loved... you don't even know. Ily wifey✨

Thank you @vintagehellfire for your priceless tattoo knowledge- I hope I did you proud!!

Also thanks to @blueywrites for helping me decide on what Eddie would tattoo on reader back in our Tumblr DMs in June😂 y'all that's how long I've had this scene in my brain. This part of the story has been a long time coming.

Divider was created by the lovely and talented @hellfire--cult❤️

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Part 5

Fall, 1983

“Rick, are you serious, man?”

“Dead serious, I’ll sell it to you for twenty.”

You caught the tail end of their conversation as you approached the red plastic picnic table in Forest Hills trailer park. Today was the first day of fall, and while it may not have felt like biting cold and crunchy leaves yet, it did feel like flannels tied around waists and long-dead grass that broke beneath the soles of your shoes. You hopped up onto the surface of the table, swinging your feet around to rest beside Eddie where he sat on the bench. 

“Sell what?” you asked, producing three cans of Coke from your bag that you’d brought from home and handing one to each of the boys. Rick had grown accustomed to your presence since the spring, so he actually cracked a smile when he answered your question and nodded in thanks as he accepted the can.

“Munson wants to buy my old tattoo gun.”

Your jaw dropped. “Wait, seriously?” you asked Eddie.

He didn’t take his eyes off Rick. “And I’m wondering what the catch is if you’re selling it to me for so cheap.” 

You cracked open your can of soda with a hiss, joining Eddie in his Rick stare-down. “Hmm,” you mused, “I bet he forgot to clean it and it’s staph-infested.”

“Nope,” Rick popped the ‘p’ after taking a swig from his shiny red can. “Never been used, so I can guarantee it’s staph-free. Always meant to use it, but after that brush with the cops I had last month, I don’t want to risk having it.”

You narrowed your eyes at Eddie, trying to discern whether or not he’d thought about the fact that if he bought it, then he would be in possession of paraphernalia for illegal Indiana activities. 

Then again, you knew he smoked weed and that was most definitely against the law as well, and he hadn’t been caught yet. You trusted him not to be stupid enough to get arrested.

You turned your line of questioning on Eddie. “Why on earth do you need a tattoo gun anyway?”

“Well you see, Ace-” Eddie lifted one of your feet up from the bench, straightening your leg and presenting your right shoe- your white converse, half covered in mythical creatures and random doodles that Eddie had slowly been adding to with his fine-tipped Sharpie ever since you’d bought them in early August. “-it seems that I need a canvas for my art, and it won’t be long before I run out of shoe.” 

You quirked an eyebrow. “So now people are the canvas?” 

Eddie held up his arms, bare skin nearly translucent in the afternoon sun. His nearly-too-small Iron Maiden tee showcased just how much bare skin he had to spare along the contours of his limbs. “If by people you mean me, then yeah.” 

“You’re going to tattoo yourself?”

“Yep!”

“Without practicing on someone else first?”

Eddie smirked, “You volunteering?”

You rolled your eyes, but for some odd reason the idea stuck. You decided to play along. 

“Let’s say I am, what would the tattoo be?” 

Eddie hadn’t anticipated this answer. He was so surprised, in fact, that he choked on the soda that he’d just sipped into his mouth before your question. In a cacophony of coughs and wheezes, Eddie managed to regain his composure as you smiled wryly, feeling as though you’d bested him somehow in some small way. To fluster him with something as small as this, something he hadn’t expected. 

“You’re serious? You want a tattoo?” Eddie responded skeptically, before turning away from you to fiddle with his soda can still held in his hands. 

You shrugged, as if he were asking if you wanted a pizza, not a permanent brand inked on your skin. “Why not? I think I’d look pretty badass with a tattoo.” 

You weren’t sure what was making you feel so bold today, but you had a feeling it might be related to the thought of Eddie covered in ink that wound up and down his skin that was making you ache to touch it when it was still naked and peach-pale. You scooched a couple inches down the tabletop to the left, placing your seat directly behind Eddie’s neck. 

Then, in a stroke of something between bravery, stupidity, and need, you carefully slung your legs over Eddie’s shoulders so that they sat in the bends of your knees.

It was a simple gesture- familiar, even. You made a point to lean back a little, bracing your hands behind you on the tabletop so that the apex of your thighs stayed a good distance from the back of Eddie’s neck. You felt Eddie’s shoulders stiffen, each muscle under your jeans tensing for a moment before relaxing into the closeness. 

Then Eddie brought his hands to your ankles, his fingertips brushing the spare skin between your high tops and the cuffs of your jeans. The pads of his thumbs barely caressed the skin but they felt like a kiss- a thing coveted and then forbidden, then coveted even more. 

His touch drifted over your legs, warm hands coming to rest over your shins and squeeze, heating the denim that separated his skin from yours. You were holding your breath. You’d been so confident a second ago yet here he was, knocking the very air from your lungs. 

You waited anxiously for him to say something; if he didn’t you were sure you were going to do something stupid. Something that would involve more of his skin on your skin.

“Would you want this tattoo of yours to show?” Eddie asked at last, breaking the silence between the two of you- well, the three of you. Rick was still there, taking in the sight before him with a smirk on his face. 

“Not easily, my parents would kill me.” you said, ensuring that your tone of voice was nonchalant, casual. “But I don’t see the harm in something small that I could hide.” 

Eddie tilted his head back and up, earthen eyes flicking up to yours. “What happened to ‘looking badass’?”

You pursed your lips as you leaned forward, bringing your faces to hover parallel over each other. “You’re saying that taking my pants off to reveal a surprise tatty isn’t badass?”

You watched as Eddie’s eyes flashed darker for a split second- nearly imperceptibly so- before his lips stretched sinfully into a mischievous grin. “Oh, under the pants then, huh?” 

His hands traced higher, ghosting on your knees and burning his fingerprints through your jeans. 

“Easy to hide,” you said, struggling to keep your voice even. “It’s a practical placement.”

Eddie’s thumbs stroked absentminded circles into the flesh of your lower thighs, tight denim puckering with the motion. “Practical placement…” he murmured, low enough that it sounded like he hadn’t even meant to say it out loud. 

“You could put it on your hip.”

Both of your heads whipped around to focus on Rick, who was grinning at both of you like he’d just discovered a fun new game to play. He shrugged, hopping up to sit beside you on the tabletop. “You want it to be hidden all of the time, right?” he leaned to shove you congenially with his shoulder. “When’s a good girl like you gonna be showing off some hip? I bet the only one who’ll see that will already be married to you when he lays eyes on-”

“Hey!” you interjected. “You act like I’m some prude, I’m not a nun.” Rolling your eyes, you looked back down at Eddie hoping to meet his gaze and laugh together over how ridiculous Rick was being. However, you looked down only to find Eddie’s chocolate browns trained on Rick with wide-eyed warning. A silent message was clearly being exchanged, but it wasn’t for you.

Rick was smiling smugly down at Eddie, unbeknownst to you, and Eddie was getting the message loud and clear:

It’s time to raise the stakes, kid. 

“Perfect!” Rick chirped, smug eyes still trained on Eddie’s. “So you wouldn’t mind letting Eddie use your hip as his, uh… canvas, then?”

If Eddie’s looks could kill, Rick would be a dead man. 

“Yeah.” you choked out, refusing to give yourself time to chicken out of what you’d gotten yourself into. “Yeah, why not?”

Rainy days in autumn just felt right.

Sure, you were in Latin class. Sure, you were supposed to be working on a packet the substitute teacher had just passed out. However, it was raining outside. The sub was easygoing enough that she hadn’t made a move to stop Eddie from doodling on your shoe that was perched comfortably on the crook of his hip. 

You sat behind him in every class you had together- there were four of them this year- and Eddie had gotten into the habit of reaching back to tap you on the leg whenever he knew he was losing focus. Every time he tapped, you would carefully stretch your leg forward until his hand caught on your ankle, lifting it up until it rested on his lap. His sharpie would go to work on whatever blank spots he could still find on your white converse, and the mindless activity of his drawing would keep his mind awake enough to listen as teachers droned on and on. 

The change in Eddie wasn’t lost on his teachers- they had all noticed the impact that your company seemed to have on him, and it was the only reason why they hadn’t had any issues with your constant companionship. When you were around, Eddie actually paid attention in his classes and turned in work- that was good enough for them.

The silence of the classroom and the soundtrack of rainfall beating against the roof and windows had created the perfect work zone for you, and your focus on your classwork was only interrupted when you noticed a folded piece of torn notebook paper on the edge of your desk. 

Smirking as you felt Eddie continue doodling on your shoe, you unfolded the paper and read the slanted scrawl that you’d come to recognize instantly as Eddie’s handwriting. 

Were you serious about the tattoo thing? It’s OK if you’re not.

Your cheeks heated, contemplating whether you were still serious about it or not. The only fears you had about it were completely logical- Eddie had literally no clue what he was doing. Yours would only be his second tattoo after his own. Worst case scenario, the tattoo would get infected and you go to the hospital. Eddie gets arrested for tattooing without a medical license. Best case scenario… you get to sit there while he grips your naked thigh for as long as it takes to leave a permanent reminder of him on your hip. 

You blinked a couple of times, letting that mental image wash over you, before confidently penning your answer beneath his message. 

I’m serious. 

Folding the scrap of paper and handing it back to him, you felt his Sharpie leave your shoe as he took the note and read it. You watched him register the two words, glance back at you through the loose strands of hair that hung over his shoulder, then smile softly into a shake of his head. A second later, he was handing the note back to you.

If you say so, Ace. What am I tattooing, and where?

You had to think about it for a moment before passing back your answer

Hip is fine. What are you gonna do? We could match.

Eddie’s reply came faster than you’d ever seen him write any of his notes in class, that’s for damn sure.

You want matching tattoos?? Are you sure?

Your heart began to race. Was that bad? Was he judging you for wanting to match him? Maybe you were being too clingy, trying too hard… you glanced down at his jacket, which was wrapped around you almost every day at this point- it was practically a second skin. His handwriting was all over your shoes. You stared at your fingers, scarlet polish chipping from the tips of your nails, and you remembered that you’d chosen red solely because he’d mentioned it was his favorite color. 

Were you coming across as desperate? Were you weirding him out? Maybe you needed to dial it back-

A new piece of paper slid across your desk, Eddie’s eyes glancing your way with nothing but warmth in his gaze before he returned his attention to your shoe on his lap. 

I’m fine with it if you are. 

Putting bats on my forearm. 

You released a breath that you hadn’t realized you’d been holding, giving ways for butterflies to take flight inside your chest. You grinned, jotting down your reply beneath his writing. 

I’m more than fine with it. 

Could you do just one little bat on my hip?

Eddie took a little longer this time with his response, and you understood why once you saw the adorably small silhouette of a bat penned in black on the paper he’d passed back to you. 

You leaned forward, letting your chin nearly brush the fabric of his denim jacket as you whispered low enough that the substitute teacher wouldn’t hear. 

“It’s perfect.”

A snicker from the other side of the classroom caught your ear. Eddie and you both turned to see a cluster of letter-jacketed assholes staring at the two of you, whispering and laughing with each other. 

You knew deep down that you didn’t care what they thought. You knew that you should just keep your head down. Ignore them. 

But then you caught the tail end of one of their sentences.

“...fucking freaks.”

Two things happened simultaneously: your eyebrows jumped, and Eddie’s stomach dropped.

The ringing of the bell was all you needed to angrily shove your belongings into your backpack and march over to the other side of the classroom, stopping the jocks in their tracks. Eddie was right behind you, tugging you back by the crook of your elbow as you steadily ignored his pleas to sit down and ignore them, they aren’t worth it.

“You want to repeat what you were saying over there, Alan?” You stared up at the freckled boy, his harsh features sneering down at you from where he stood nearly half a foot taller than you. His height did nothing to deter you, however. Neither did Eddie’s death grip on your arm.

Alan snorted, raising an eyebrow at the sight of the two of you before him. His eyes flicked over you, appraising for about two seconds before directing his attention to Eddie behind you. “You letting your girl pick your fights for you now, Munson?” 

Eddie didn’t have a chance to respond; you didn’t give him one. “Don’t look at him.” you stepped forward, bringing you mere inches from the freckled football star. “I asked you a question.”

Alan and his cronies laughed, apparently amused by the show of dominance you were trying to make. You opened your mouth to berate him further, but the sharp tug on your arm from Eddie was strong enough this time to jerk you away from them and toward the door of the classroom. 

“Wh- Eddie, quit it!” you tried to shake off his grip but it wasn’t going to budge; Eddie marched you out the door and down the hallway like a man on a mission. 

“Yeah, Eddie, quit it!” You both could hear Alan’s patronizing whine from the classroom, his voice thrown into a reedy falsetto that made your blood boil. His voice trailed off, melting into the nasal snickers of his friends.

Eddie didn’t let go of your arm until the two of you reached his locker, at which point he finally looked you in the eye- and his stare embodied an intensity that you hadn’t seen from him ever before. You’d seen him intense, of course… just not like this. 

This looked like fear. 

“What the fuck was that for?” Eddie bit out, his teeth clenched and eyes wide. 

You crossed your arms, suddenly defensive. Had you messed up, somehow? “I… I mean, they were calling us names, I wasn’t going to just sit there.”

“Alan’s an illiterate asshole, you don’t need to explain yourself to him.”

“I know I don’t need to, but…” You chuckled humorlessly, that familiar vengeful feeling from moments ago beginning to bubble back up. “You know what, no. I do need to. I’m not the kind of person who can just sit there while jerks like him run around slandering good people, it’s wrong!”

Eddie huffed, his hands on his hips as he glanced around and shook his head. “Slandering, huh? That’s a big word, Ace. What’s that, the college word of the day?” You raised an eyebrow, watching him closely and curiously. 

He was fidgeting nonstop, repeatedly picking up his feet and replacing them on the floor only an inch or so away from where they’d been before. His eyes darted in every direction, as if scanning for potential threats so that he could run from them before they decided to pounce. 

“Eddie, why are you so afraid of those guys?” 

Big brown eyes widened to saucers, refocusing on you. “This isn’t fear, Ace, it’s just common sense.” Eddie checked over his shoulder to ensure the jocks were gone, then took a step closer. He leaned his shoulder against the locker, lifting his opposite arm to gently place his hand on your upper arm. You shivered, feeling his thumb trace small circles through his own black leather. Maybe that’s why he’s so scared all of a sudden, you pondered, leaning closer to Eddie. He’s given me his armor. 

You lowered your voice, sympathetic to Eddie’s plight. “You know I wouldn’t let them hurt you, Eds.” Looking up into his eyes, you expected to see them soften, gratitude coating his gaze. Instead, they widened and crinkled slightly at the edges. Eddie huffed out a gaudy laugh, incredulous at your admission.

“Hurt me?” he shook his head, stunned, and began to rifle through his locker for the books he needed for next class. “Ace, I just don’t want them to hurt you!”

You balked. “Me?” an eyebrow raised, you crossed your arms over your chest, defensive once again. “You really think they’d hit a girl? They’re jerks but I don’t think they’d go that far-”

“Nah, they’ll only sick their girlfriends on you.” Eddie punctuated his sentence with a slam of his locker door. “Purebred harpies with matching scrunchies who’ll make your life a living hell and then pretend that you’re the crazy one.”

It was a struggle to keep up with him at the rate he was walking, strides each a yard wide as he tugged you along by your hand. 

Your hand. Eddie Munson was holding your hand. 

“You, uh… you speaking from experience?” You stuttered over your words, cheeks heating at the sudden skin-to-skin contact. He had just admitted that he didn’t want to see you get hurt- his blatant protectiveness of you coupled with the way he was decisively dragging you by the hand to your locker right now was nearly too much for you to handle. 

“Trust me,” Eddie sighed, swinging you around as he reached your locker and (to your dismay) letting go of your hand. “You get asked out on a dare enough times, you figure out how their coven operates.” 

Eddie wasn’t meeting your eyes. You had to actually place your hand on his shoulder to capture his gaze. “Eddie,” you said, making a conscious effort to keep your voice steady and be something stable for him to feel at least a little grounded on. “Deep breath.”

Surprisingly, he did as you said. Eddie closed his eyes, inhaling deep and allowing his lungs to fill long enough that his chest expanded before his exhale blew softly on your cheeks. It smelled like the apple you’d brought for him at lunch.

 When you were once again treated to that warm hazelnut gaze, your hand acted without thinking and flew up to gently rest against his jawline. You were crossing some invisible line- you knew that- but the light in the hallway was causing shadows to take up residence in the dusting of whiskers that decorated the sharp incline that led to his chin. Your fingertips brushed his skin reverently, and he seemed frozen. Eddie didn’t dare move; you were like a butterfly that had deigned to land on him of all people, and damn it all if he was going to fuck it up and scare you off. 

“I’ve got you, you’ve got me… right?” Your voice was barely loud enough to be heard through the noise of bustling students. “We look out for each other, Eddie, we’re stronger together.” 

Eddie remained still under your caress, wishing he could focus on your touch. Wishing he could rip his eyes away from where they were trained behind you- held in terrified contact with a sadistic-looking Alan who stood with his cherry-lipsticked girlfriend across the hallway. Alan’s lips were curled into a sneer, watching as the thing that Eddie wanted most became his worst nightmare.

You were openly touching him, while wearing his clothes, standing in shoes covered with his drawings- and Eddie watched in horror as the harpy pushed up on her tiptoes to whisper something in Alan’s ear before both of them refocused not on Eddie, but on you. 

They laughed like fucking heyenas, eyeing their next meal. 

It took every ounce of self control Eddie had, but he gently took your hand in his and lowered it from his cheek. He ignored the way your eyes gazed up at him the same way a scorned puppy begged for some kind of affection, any confirmation that they are, indeed, loved. 

“It’s the together part I’m worried about, Ace.” Eddie whispered, keeping his voice low. 

You were quiet, which Eddie hated because it was his fault.

“Oh, and um-” Eddie raised his shoulders and shivered, rubbing his hands along his upper arms to warm himself with the friction. “-it’s a little chilly today… you mind if I wear the jacket?” His hand drifted down to the flannel that hung loosely tied around your waist, taking a corner of the material and feeling it between the pads of his thumb and forefinger.

“This’ll keep you warm, yeah?” 

You stared blankly for a moment, stunned. You had nearly forgotten that the jacket was his to take. You’d assumed he liked that you always wore his jacket, but… perhaps you’d made that up. You were eager for him to want things like that, after all… ‘more than friends’ kinds of things. However, asking for a borrowed item to be returned was completely normal for friends. You chided yourself for reading too much into it and smiled warmly up at him.

“Yeah! Of course!” you sprung into action, setting your backpack down on the floor as you began to shrug off the jacket. “You’re right it’s frigid in here today.” 

You handed the jacket to Eddie, who donned it with a thin-lipped smile. Parting ways for your next class, you departed in opposite directions down the hallway. 

Upon arriving in your calculus class, you glanced out the window eager to zone out as you watched the rain, only to be greeted by a gray sky drained of its water. The rain’s reprieve left nothing in its wake but a tired sun, soft mist that obscured all surety, and packed Indiana dirt softened to mud too loose for one to find their footing. 

The sort of mud that, should you try to walk through it, you’d be destined to slip and fall. 

When Eddie thought of Halloween, he thought of blood and sugar. 

It was a strange contradiction, the way that Halloween’s association with horror and gore had balanced itself out with candy corn and fun-sized Snickers bars, and yet the juxtaposition of the two brought a smile to his face. The combination of sweet and terrifying embodied the holiday perfectly. On Halloween, there was no need for any kind of steely exterior that might protect him from judgment. No need to hide the way he really feels behind the scary metalhead armor he’d so carefully curated as a defense mechanism. 

On Halloween, he wasn’t just allowed to be a freak. He was celebrated for it. 

On Halloween, he could just be. 

It was the reason why Halloween just so happened to be the day he’d had enough courage to look through your bedroom window exactly four years ago. It’s the day when Hell meets Heaven to make something sweet, and anything can happen.

Anything- including matching tattoos on the floor of his trailer. 

Everything was ready- Eddie had laid out sheets of newspaper to cover what he’d deemed the tattoo zone, and broken down a cardboard box to act as a stable surface on the soft carpet of his bedroom floor. Eddie had scrutinized every instruction he’d been able to wrench from Rick for how to work the tattoo machine. Grips, needles, fucking rubber bands that were apparently very necessary… he’d made sure he had it all. He’d even practiced on an orange that he’d swiped from the kitchen counter.

A thick black cable now snaked across his carpeted floor, connecting the machine to a pedal, the pedal to a power supply, and the power supply to the yellowed plastic outlet on his wall. Beside the machine sat a stack of paper towels and all sorts of other shit Rick had advised him to make sure he used. He was lucky that Rick had bought a bottle of black ink- Eddie wouldn’t have known where to seek out medical-grade ink in a state where it was illegal to ink your skin without a license. 

Your knock at his door made Eddie jump; he wasn’t sure why he was so nervous. It would be easy to write his nerves off as adrenaline before his first tattoo, but who was he kidding- it was you. You’d gone from someone who made him nervous to someone who made him nervous for different reasons, and all of this was very inconvenient for Eddie. 

“Trick or Treat,” You’d chirped when he opened the door, and it was at that moment Eddie realized that this night may very well be the death of him.

You wore your favorite baggy sweater over a tight black tank top, which you’d tucked into some high waisted acid washed jeans. Unsurprisingly, the chucks on which he’d scribbled his claim were fastened securely on your feet. In your hands was a variety pack of halloween candies and a shopping bag from the local drugstore. Everything about you radiated warmth, and Eddie had to fight the urge to change tonight’s itinerary to movies and a blanket fort and spend the whole evening on the couch with you, surrounded by candy wrappers and the light of his television set. 

“I brought antibacterial soap,” you said, bringing Eddie back to reality. You rifled through your shopping bag to show him your spoils as you stepped through the threshold and into his trailer. “-large bandages, and a little travel first aid kit just in case. Oh, and I did a little bit of reading at the library and I couldn’t find much on tattoos, but the one commonality between every book and article I could find said to make sure you wash the wound often and disinfect everything-”

“Ace,” Eddie interrupted, taking the bag from you and closing the front door. The corner of his mouth quirked up, keeping an amused chuckle at bay. “You went to the library to read about how to safely care for an illegal tattoo?” Your expression soured, shifting to a half-scowl, half-pout. 

“Well one of us has got to do it,” you huffed, grabbing the bag and marching towards Eddie’s room. “And I know you wouldn’t set foot in the library unless you were forced.” You continued to yell at him from his room, “You’ll thank me when your kitchen-scratched tattoo doesn’t get infected, and you get to grow old with all of your limbs intact!”

Eddie stayed glued to his spot as his smirk grew into a goofy grin. You were fucking adorable. 

You hadn’t argued when Eddie insisted that he start with his own tattoo- before he got started on permanently marking your skin, he wanted to be sure that he at least had gotten the hang of it first. He immediately started getting to work with his trusty fine-tipped Sharpie, sketching out a scattering of bats on his forearm and glancing every once in a while at his notebook for reference. You’d flipped through that notebook on several occasions when the two of you had sat idle during classes or study sessions. The drawings were always sprawling, sharp and gruesome in a way that wasn’t so much scary as it was fascinating to you. 

You laid stomach-down on his mattress, positioned behind where he sat on the floor, his back leaned up against the bed frame and close enough that you could probably reach down and play with his hair if you were bold enough. You didn’t- no matter how tempting it was, you didn’t want to risk anything that might mess up his focus. You settled for watching Eddie’s reflection in the mirror that sat leaned up against the wall in front of him. 

When the Sharpie stencil had dried and Eddie picked up the tattoo machine, you couldn’t deny the nervous uptake in your heart rate. You watched him gingerly begin the process of permanently inking his drawing into his skin, and before the needle touched skin, Eddie looked over his shoulder at you and winked, whispering a surprisingly shaky “Point of no return.” Before you could ask if he was having second thoughts, he was already outlining the first bat, his socked foot pressing decisively on the pedal that whirred his machine to life. 

Minutes ticked by before you uttered a soft “Does it hurt?” to break the awkward silence. Normally, Eddie had some sort of music playing, Metallica or WASP or something along those lines spinning on his cheap old turntable- but tonight there was nothing but the electric buzz that filled the small bedroom, and it was starting to make you antsy. 

Eddie huffed, and it was as much of a laugh as he could afford while holding still. “Well, Ace, it’s a needle sticking in and out of my arm repeatedly, so if I’m being honest it ain’t exactly sunshine and rainbows.” You watched him wince as he moved on from outlining the first bat and started on the second. 

“Does it at least make you feel a little badass?” You watched his reflection in the mirror glance up through the curtain of his hair and raise an eyebrow at you. 

“That depends,” He said, “do I look badass?” 

“A little.” You teased. “You’ll look more badass when the tattoo is finished.” 

That earned you a snort from him. “What, fifty percent of a tattoo doesn’t cut it?” His reflection flashed you a genuine smile, that lopsided grin affecting you the way it always does, spiking your body temp and rushing the thump of your heart. 

“Nope. Though, if your intention is to tell the world that you have commitment issues-”

“I do not have commitment issues-”

“Then what kind of issues do you have?” 

Eddie parted the needle from his skin, taking a moment to glance wryly over his shoulder in your direction. 

“You.” It was punctuated by a tongue that peeked out from between his lips. You followed suit, shoulders shaking as you chuckled.

Silence threatened to fall for a moment then, but Eddie put a stop to that. “Keep talking.”

“Huh?”

His voice was quiet, muttered like he was biting the inside of his cheek as he spoke. “Hurts less when we’re talking.”

You smiled, watching as he avoided your eye contact in the mirror, focusing on his arm as a subtle blush began to creep onto his cheeks. Tempting as it was to tease, you opted for a more neutral topic.

“Which is better, sour candy or chocolate?”

You could barely see his eyebrows furrow behind his curtain of curls as he considered your question. “Chocolate.”

“You’re crazy.”

He barked out a laugh. “After all the ridiculous shit I’ve said, that’s what crosses the line for you?”

You shook your head, amping up your reaction for his benefit; he was laughing, and it was music to your ears. You were greedy for more of it. 

“Sour candy is a whole experience, chocolate is just sweet! That’s all it has going for it!”

Eddie gawked but kept his eyes trained on his skin. “What do you have against sweets?”

You rolled your eyes, flopping from your stomach to your back and staring up at the water stain on Eddie’s ceiling. “I haven’t got anything against sweets… I just like a little tart to go with it. Oh hang on, that reminds me-”

You stuck your hand into the plastic bag you’d brought with you, producing a variety pack of cheap Halloween candies. “Do you normally get trick-or-treaters? I thought we could pour these into a bowl and set it out on the porch- you know, so we don’t have to keep answering the door.”

Eddie Shook his head. “Nah, not a lot of kids who live here. Those who do always high-tail it to the neighborhoods where the good shit is, like-”

“Loch Nora?” you finished, smirking. 

Nodding his approval, Eddie echoed, “Loch Nora.”

“Well in that case,” you yanked open the bag of candy so hard that a few individually wrapped pieces were flung onto the bedspread as well as the floor below. “I guess we’ll have to eat all of this ourselves.”

Eddie paused his tattooing to glance at a fun-sized packet of sour gummy worms that had landed on the carpet beside him. “Gummy worms?” he asked.

You flicked the back of his head while the needle was off his skin. “Uh, yeah, they’re delicious.”

“Did you at least get candy corn?”

You gagged. “Candy corn?!”

The two of you passed the next hour like that, debating about various arbitrary topics and inevitably disagreeing on almost all of them. There were only three things that you both agreed on without any debate whatsoever: Santa Claus was the superior holiday mascot, Joan Jett could easily beat Cyndi Lauper in a fight, and The Empire Strikes Back was way better than A New Hope.

When Eddie was finally finished with his tattoo, you were off the bed in an instant and already reaching for the antibacterial soap. 

“You should wash it under some warm water first before anything gross has a chance to get in there-”

“Hey hey hey, whoa hold on!” Eddie was laughing, eyes wide as he smiled at you. Your hand was already encircled around his wrist, tugging his arm (and the person attached to it) toward the bathroom. “Ace, you haven’t even looked at it yet, c’mon you’re bruising the artist’s ego here.” 

You sighed but couldn’t hide the rueful grin that danced on your pursed lips. Softening your vice like grip on his wrist, you shifted your hands to cradle his forearm and survey the last hour’s work.

“It looks good, Eddie… really good, actually.” You absently swiped a thumb over the soft skin of his wrist. “If you’d told me it was professionally done, I’d totally believe you.”

“Yeah?” He looked up from where your thumb stroked the base of his forearm, eyes shining.

“Yeah,” you smirked. “Of course, I’d tell you to try and get your money back, but-”

“Oh shove it up your ass, Sweet Tart.” The playful shoulder-check had you letting go of his arm, but both of your faces were painted with ear-to-ear smiles. 

Eddie washed his new tattoo in the bathroom sink, admiring the way the bats stretched and shifted with every flex of his forearm. Your mouth hurt, as did the muscles in your cheeks; you couldn’t stop smiling. He was so happy with his work, and you had to admit that he had actually done a really good job with that tattoo machine. 

“We’ve got to get you out of Indiana, Munson,” you murmured to the mirror where he continued to scrutinize his work from every angle. “I think you may have just found your calling.” 

His eyes were wide and shining with pride as they glanced your way. “You think?” 

You nodded, that saccharine smile stubbornly staying put on your lips. To be fair, you didn’t fight it.

“You’re coming with me, then.” Eddie replied, his own smile glowing in the dying light above the bathroom mirror.

There it was- that familiar fire beneath the skin of your cheeks.

“Oh I am, huh?” 

“Hell yeah.” Eddie braced his arm on the doorway, leaning over you until your faces were mere inches apart. “We’re stronger together, remember?”

Breathe. Breathe… Why can’t you breathe?

You’d barely managed a nod before Eddie was ducking around you through the doorway, grabbing your hand, and leading you back to his room. 

“Your turn, Ace.”

Oh yeah, you were also getting a tattoo today. You’d almost forgotten. Were you nervous? You weren’t sure. Actually, yes, you were very nervous- not so much about the tattoo as you were for where the tattoo would be. 

In minutes, you were both sitting on Eddie’s bedroom floor- Eddie readying everything he needed for your new ink, and you sitting eerily still as your soul started to feel like it might leave your body.

“Ace,”

Eyes refocusing, you blinked a few times. “Yeah?”

Eddie’s expression was calm, sympathetic to the inward freak-out he had a feeling you were on the verge of. “We don’t have to do this, you know. I wouldn’t hold it against you.”

You tried to laugh, but it came out sounding a little more strained than you had intended. “Hah…you saying I have commitment issues?”

The corner of his mouth quirked up, but Eddie’s eyebrows stayed knitted together above his big brown eyes. “No,” he murmured. His voice was soft, as if he were speaking to a stray animal and trying not to spook it. “I guess I’m just… trying to give you an out, so you don’t feel pressured or anything.”

You shook your head, “I don’t want an out.”

Eddie blinked, “No?”

“No.”

There was a second of silence between the two of you before you both took in a collective breath, exhaling simultaneously and giggling when you both realized that you were breathing in sync. Perfect harmony; sour and sweet, nervous but willing. 

“You, uh…” Eddie stammered, his eyes flicking down to your lap and back up to your face. “...you still want it on your hip?”

Your heart rate doubled. 

“Um, yeah.” you awkwardly shifted your weight onto your knees, grabbing hold of your waistband and unbuttoning your shorts. You shimmied them over your hips, revealing the rest of your leotard- leotard, Eddie realized. Not a tank top. You were wearing a black leotard. It was almost like the kind that he’d seen ballerinas wear, except it cut so high on your hips that he was sure it wouldn’t be allowed in any of the dance studios he could think of, and….yep. YEP, it was practically a thong. Your ass was out. You were sitting on the floor of his bedroom with your ass out. 

Chill out, Munson! He screamed inwardly at himself, Chill the fuck out!

Of course, you couldn’t tell that there was a war going on between Eddie’s ability to function and the short-circuiting that threatened to render him unable to do anything but stare at you. All you could see was the way his jaw had gone slack and his eyes bugged out of their sockets.

You smiled shyly, a twinge of something between satisfaction and guilt nudging at your heartstrings. “I figured this thing would be less awkward than if I was sitting here in my underwear,” you laughed nervously as you gestured to your leotard.

Eddie gulped. He couldn’t see much of a difference. “Yeah, totally.” 

A beat passed. You grabbed a bag of gummy worms from the floor, tearing it open with a crinkle of the plastic that would not have been so loud if the two of you weren’t dead silent. You bit into the candy where the color changed from pink to blue, then finally muttered through your chewing, “Ready when you are.” 

Eddie blinked rapidly, taking his Sharpie in his hands. “Uh, yeah… yeah, okay.” 

With your free hand, you pointed to the part of your hip where your flesh naturally creased as your thigh met your pelvis. 

“Is here good?”

Eddie gulped. 

“Yeah, that’s good.” But Eddie was very much not good. He was the opposite of good, he felt like he was malfunctioning. When he placed his free hand on your upper thigh, he almost apologized. Why the hell did he feel like he had to apologize? He had no clue. His palms were sweating- did you feel how sweaty his palms were? Oh god. He forgot what a bat looked like- you were trusting his artistic skills enough for him to permanently ink his drawing into your skin and he couldn’t even remember what a goddamn bat looked li- oh, wait, he had them on his own forearm now. Eddie glanced at his arm, reminding himself what a goddamn bat looked like. 

He’s never felt like more of a nervous idiot than right now. 

Meanwhile, you felt like you were about to explode.

His hand was warm. So warm as he grasped your thigh. Whenever he’d touched you before, there was always a barrier, some form of separation between his skin and yours- jeans, a sweater, a flannel. 

A leather jacket.

That’s right- he had taken his jacket back. Maybe you were reading too deep into things, but you had this unshakable feeling that taking back that jacket had been a message. 

We’re just friends. Nothing more.

But if that was true, then why was he looking at your thighs the way he was? Why had he looked at you the way he did when he said you should go with him when he leaves Hawkins? 

He wasn’t your boyfriend… you knew that.

So why couldn’t you shake this undeniably girlfriendish ache in your chest?

“Okay.” Eddie’s voice jolted you out of your downward spiral into your very inconvenient feelings. “Check that out in the mirror, make sure you like it.”

You straightened up, walking on your knees until you faced the mirror leaning against the wall and inspected the tiny, perfect little bat that he’d drawn on the fullest part of your hip.

It matched the bats that now decorated his arm, now surrounded by an angry red halo that bloomed across his skin. Once that bat was inked, it would be something connecting you and Eddie forever- a shared experience, a secret that the two of you would always be in on. 

Suddenly, you realized that in this moment there wasn’t a single thing you wanted more than a matching tattoo with Eddie Munson.

Well, there was one thing. But you had a feeling that wasn’t happening tonight. The tattoo, however…

“I love it.” You looked over your shoulder at Eddie, but his eyes were a little too busy staring at your practically naked behind to meet your gaze. 

“Ahem.”

Breaking free of his trance, Eddie shook his head a tad, which drew a small chuckle from your smirking lips. Eddie couldn’t help but smile too, albeit more shyly than you.

“Distracted?” You teased, unable to hold back your glee at this kind of attention- any kind of attention- from Eddie. 

He sighed, blinking rapidly while he finally met your eyes. There was something new in the way he was looking at you- if you didn’t know better you might call it frustration, but it was an amused sort of frustration. Almost like his eyes were saying “what am I going to do with you?” but through sunglasses tinted with desire. 

You wanted to bottle that, stow it away for emergencies. Wanted to preserve the way that gaze made you feel so that you could experience it over and over again. 

“No.” Eddie murmured through a rueful grin. “Lie down, it’ll be easier to ink the skin while it’s flat.” You did as he instructed, feeling the crinkle of newspaper underneath the skin of your rear. Once again, you found yourself staring up at the water stain on Eddie’s ceiling until his face came into view, looking down at you as he readied the tattoo machine. 

“Are you?” You heard him ask. 

You raised an eyebrow. “Huh?”

The pads of Eddie’s fingers poked and prodded at the skin around where your tattoo would soon have an indefinite spot on your hip, and you wondered if he could tell that your temperature shot up ten degrees each time you felt his hands on you.

“Are you distracted?” he clarified. “Because it hurts less when you’ve got something else to focus on.” 

“Oh.” Suddenly, your mind went blank. Of course, the moment you wanted something to distract you, all ideas turned tail and ran. “Um…”

Snap!

Your jaw dropped as the elastic of your leotard snapped back to your skin from where Eddie had pulled it away with his pointer finger. “Where’d you even get this thing?” 

Now it was your turn to short-circuit.

“Uh-” You stammered, interrupted by the machine beginning to buzz. 

Eddie didn’t wait for you to finish your thought before reminding you what he’d asked. “C’mon, Sweet Tart, where’d you get the leotard?”

You knew he was trying to distract you so you didn’t feel the pain, but you couldn’t help the tensing of your muscles as the needle pierced your skin. You winced, staring at the water stain with a newfound intensity. “Dance store.” you gritted through lips that formed a tight line. 

“Dance store, huh?” You could hear the smile through Eddie’s words. “And why were you in a dance store?”

You huffed out a short, breathy laugh, careful to keep your hip still as Eddie’s needle continued to do its work. “I was making a Flashdance costume. Heard about this Halloween party a few weeks ago, but then we made the tattoo plans… and I had already bought the leotard, so…”

It was disconcerting to speak with Eddie without looking at him; he was a very expressive person, always talking with his hands, always making sure that he looked you in the eyes when you spoke to him. But now he was focused on his work on your hip, leaving your eyes to shift between staring at his ceiling and fluttering closed.

“You were going to wear this thing to a party?” he asked, incredulous. 

Your eyebrows wrinkled over your closed eyes. “I would’ve worn tights under it…” 

He snorted. “That wouldn’t have made a difference.”

You winced, groaning as the needle hit a nerve that particularly stung. “What- ah, shit- what are you trying to say?” 

The buzzing stopped for a moment. “Fuck, you okay?” Eddie’s face leaned into your field of vision, his frizzy brown hair backlit into a halo by the light from the lamp behind him. “You want to take a break?”

You shook your head, taking a mental snapshot of how ethereal he looked like this. “No, you can keep going, I’m fine.” 

Cautiously, Eddie got back to work. A few wordless seconds ticked by before you spoke. 

“What did you mean, ‘that wouldn’t have made a difference’?”

Eddie’s reply was matter-of-fact, but you could have sworn that you heard a hint of protectiveness in his voice when he said, “Tights or no tights, the whole party would have been staring at your ass, Sweet Tart.”

The “T” sound in “Tart” was soft this time. So soft, it was barely there at all, and it almost sounded like he’d just called you sweetheart. If only. You’d give anything to be Eddie’s sweetheart.

Whether he’d meant to blend that consonant or not, it made you brave. “Is that a bad thing?”

A pause. Then, “Is this a trap?”

“Answer the question, would a bunch of people staring at my ass be a bad thing?”

Eddie sighed. “This is definitely a trap,” he muttered, before replying “No, Ace, objectively it would not be a bad thing. But sometimes people view girls differently when they walk around with their asses out.”

“Do you look at me differently when my ass is out?” You were being cheeky, you knew it. 

“No, I don’t look at you differently.” came his instant response, muttered through nearly-closed lips. “I just look at you.”

Nothing could stand against your smile, not even you. “Yeah, that much I could see in the mirror.”

“You don’t sound too upset about that.”

This was different from the flirting you were used to with Eddie. Your regular flavor of flirtation had always been surface-level banter; nothing past a jab here and there, a joke at his expense or a nickname thrown your way. 

Now? You were talking about the way he looked at your body, and the fact that he could tell that you liked when he looked. The two of you were in uncharted territory, and you buzzed under his touch in time with the inky needle at the beautiful unknown of it all. 

“Okay, the outline is done but I’m about to start filling it in.” Eddie warned. “This part hurts a little more. You wanna take a break?”

You nodded. While Eddie jumped up to get you both a glass of water, you sat up on your elbows and peered over at your hip to get a look at your new ink. When you saw it, you gasped so fervently that you startled yourself.

It was perfect. The perfect little bat. 

It wasn’t completely symmetrical. The outline was a tad thicker in certain places than others. But those imperfections made it his. And the fact that it was on your skin made it yours. 

You couldn’t wait to wake up and stare at it like this every single day. 

Eddie returned a moment later with two mismatched cups of tap water. Once you’d both rehydrated, he got to work replacing the needle at the end of the machine with a new one, as well as changing out various attachments and fiddling with a knobby-looking piece until he seemed satisfied with what he’d changed.

 You were impressed with how intensely focused Eddie was on this sort of work; it didn’t seem to be taking him long to get the hang of this. It also didn’t take him long to come up with another topic of conversation that teetered on the line between friendly and flirty.

“Ever played Fuck, Marry, Kill?”

You had not, but the title of the game brought an unexpected chuckle out of you. “Edward Munson, I am a lady! At least take me out to dinner first-”

“I’m going to take that as a no.” Eddie chuckled, and you could hear his deadpan in the tone of his voice. “I say three people’s names and you have to tell me which you’d fuck, which you’d marry, and which you’d kill. Comprende?”

“Uhh-” whatever you’d been about to say was cut short by a harsher buzz than before, accompanied by the aggressive sting of needles on your skin. “Mmh, shit, okay yeah sure let’s play.”

Eddie smiled to himself. He wasn’t sure why he loved the little noises and whispered curses that spilled from your mouth while he tattooed you, but he honestly thought they might be the cutest sounds he’d ever heard. You were taking the pain like a champ- he was actually pretty proud of you in this moment as you remained still through the sting.

“Lars Ulrich, James Hetfield, and Kirk Hammett”

You rolled your eyes. Eddie had ensured over your many rides in his van this summer that every Metallica song he’d played had been an educational experience. Eddie had picked up a cassette of their debut album in July, and ever since he’d become obsessed. Already, he was trying to persuade the other members of his band to figure out how to play The Four Horsemen by ear. 

Needless to say, you knew enough about the band to at least answer the question. 

“Well I’m killing Lars for sure.”

“Poor Lars never stood a chance.”

You grinned, willing the distraction into something great enough to numb the pain. “And I think I’m gonna have to fuck Hetfield.”

“‘Have to fuck Hetfield,’ such a sacrifice.” 

You carefully stretched your arms up to rest above your shoulders, cradling your head on your hands like a pillow. “Hey, if someone’s got to do it, I’ll take one for the team.”

You heard him snort, then after a moment’s quiet he added, “So you’re marrying Kirk Hammett, then?”

“I guess so.”

“What makes Kirk marriage material? Over the other two, I mean.”

You thought about Kirk Hammett’s wild, dark curls. His build. His brown button eyes. The way he looked holding a guitar.

“I don’t know, there’s just something about him.”

Eddie thought about the way he’d been trying to make himself look more like a rockstar ever since he’d first seen the tiny, grainy picture of the Metallica members in the corner of a page of Rolling Stone; he’d been bumming copies off Jeff’s subscription since the seventh grade. How he’d started growing out his hair after seeing Kirk’s long, black mane. He smiled. 

He must be doing something right.

“Alright, Mrs. Hammett,” He quipped, “My turn, hit me with bachelorettes one through three, please.”

You thought over your options, trying to think of women you’d heard him mention before. Wondering if he thought any of them had something in common with you, and praying to God he didn’t kill them.

“Olivia Newton-John,”

Already, Eddie was descending into a fit of giggles. 

“Why are you laughing? She’s pretty!”

Eddie launched into a falsetto rendition of the chorus from Grease’s Hopelessly Devoted to You, and you were instantly fighting the giggles too. 

“Shut up! I’m not done yet. Olivia Newton-John… have you seen Fast Times?”

His response came in a tone of voice that was the vocal equivalent of a side-eye. “Why do you ask?”

“Because I don’t know if you know who Phoebe Cates is.”

“Oh,” Eddie sighed dreamily, “I know who Phoebe Cates is.” 

You rolled your eyes, but chuckled nonetheless. “Okay then- Olivia Newton-John, Phoebe Cates, and Carrie Fisher.”

Eddie barked out a joyous “Ah!” before answering, “Well this is easy, Ace, say goodbye to Newton-John!”

You mock-gasped. “You’re killing Sandy?”

“I’m killing Sandy.”

“That is brutal. She was so innocent, too.”

Eddie squinted at the half-filled tattoo, smirking into his explanation. “Okay, I see the appeal, Ace, I truly do. That outfit at the end is killer.” He paused. Should he say it? Would he be too obvious if he did? 

Ah, fuck it. 

“I’m a sucker for a woman in red shoes, let me tell ya. However-” Eddie quickly glazed over that last sentence, as well as any opening you might have gotten to think about how that might relate to you. “-I’ve gotta fuck Phoebe Cates. Because… y’know-”

“Boobies?” you beat him to the punch.

Eddie confirmed with a matter-of-fact “Boobies.” He glanced up at your face for a moment, curious to see if he could read what you thought of his answers, but you were staring pensively at his ceiling, expression unreadable. “And you have to have known I was marrying Leia the moment she was an option.” 

“You have a thing for Princess Leia?”

“Are you joking?” Eddie asked, incredulously. “How could I not? The woman’s the definition of a spitfire, she kicks ass and takes names. Not to mention, she’s got a thing for scoundrels.” 

You hummed. “Do you think you’re a scoundrel, Eddie?” 

“Well I’m certainly not a scruffy-looking nerf herder, I’ll tell you that much.”

You winced playfully, “A nerf herder you are not… but you are a bit scruffy.”

“You’ve got me there, princess.”

Eddie went silent. The nickname had just slipped out- all this talk of scoundrels and princesses and strong women who weren’t afraid of a fight and before he knew it, he was seeing more similarities between you and Leia than he’d realized were there before. 

Princess had just seemed right. It just slipped out. 

The line between friendship and dangerous territory had been so clearly drawn in Eddie’s mind before tonight. Where had he gone wrong? That once clear line was getting blurry.

Eddie was absolutely convinced that he would probably find a way to single handedly ruin your friendship before he was finished filling in your tattoo- which you would inevitably hate, because it would remind you of the asshole who you used to be friends with before he made things weird between you.

“My turn,” your voice cut through Eddie’s downward spiral, drawing a relieved sigh from him that tickled the skin of your thigh. “Let’s make this round more interesting. Only names of people from Hawkins.”

“Hm, that is interesting.” he mused, the needle inching its way toward the last remaining centimeter of bare skin left within the outline. “Let me think… Chief Hopper-”

You barked out a laugh, “Oh great start, Eds.”

“Chief’s a good looking guy! I don’t know why you’re laughing!” but Eddie was smiling ear to ear, delighted that his awkward apprehension had already begun to dissipate. “Principal Higgins-”

“Are you only going to give me old men as options?”

Eddie was going to do exactly that, because he didn’t want to picture you marrying or- God forbid- fucking any men in Hawkins that you might actually enjoy doing either of those things with. He wasn’t jealous, per se… but none of the shitheads in Hawkins were good enough for you. Eddie wasn’t even good enough for you; not yet, at least. He could picture a future version of himself one day taking his chances with you, once you’d both skipped town and found your way in some thriving city somewhere. 

You were both too good for this place- you were the first person to make him think that about himself.

“What was that security guard’s name at the mall? Average joe looking guy? Quentin? Quincey?”

“Oh, you mean Quinn?”

“Knew his name started with a Q.” Eddie softly bit his bottom lip as he finished the last bit of your bat’s wing. “Hopper, Higgins, and Quinn. Those are your options.”

You groaned. “These choices suck, can I just kill them all?”

“I kinda like it when you go all bloodthirsty, Ace.”

You rolled your eyes before letting them flutter closed. “Ugh, well I’m obviously killing Higgins… he’s never been nice to you and all he cares about are school sports. I guess… I mean if I have to, I’ll fuck Hopper.”

Eddie was beside himself with giggles, “I mean, that’s one way to get out of a speeding ticket.”

“You’re lucky I can’t smack you right now.” You ignored Eddie’s snickering and continued. “And I don’t think I’d mind being married to Quinn, he always smiles at me and asks how my day was. Plus he’s kind of cute, he’s got nice hair.”

Eddie wrinkled his nose. “I don’t see it.”

You laughed, and the jingling tone of your voice suddenly sounded too loud as the buzzing of Eddie’s machine stopped. 

“Alright, Ace,” Eddie announced, leaning back to survey his work. “Check out your new ink.”

You didn’t need to look at it again to know it would be perfect, but you looked anyway. You stood on your sleeping legs and gazed at the little black bat on your hip- it sat beautifully balanced on the skin framed by your high cut leotard, and you knew at once that you’d think of Eddie each time you saw it. This was exactly what you wanted- a daily reminder of exactly how he made you feel, of who he was to you. 

At this moment, it dawned on you exactly what it was that Eddie made you feel. The way you always wanted to be around him, and the way he had become a balloon that inflated your chest every time he made you laugh, and how you knew- just knew- that you’d follow him anywhere if he asked. 

You loved Eddie Munson. You were in love with him. 

And you couldn’t stop smiling like an idiot at that little asymmetrical bat.

Part 6

Taglist: @emma77645 , @rustboxstarr, @josephquinnsfreckles, @rozxartaki, @sheneedsrocknroll92

[earthh2jadee]

if you kissed me - Rodrick Heffley | 1.9k

Yeah yeah i know i haven't written since a million years ago. and yeah yeah i know this is my first real fanfiction i posted on tumblr. fair warning, i'm not the best writer, i honestly just do this for fun and i'm totally up to criticism because i do want to make my writing better. if this is literally inaccurate, im sorry its been like 5 years since i've read the books. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this fluff-fest that I created in the span of a few hours.

paring: rodrick x reader genre: fluff. lots of fluff

Credits to the maker of the picture! 15 Days till the Contest | 9:42 PM, Saturday

Plick, plick, plick

My speakers were blasting so loud I almost didn’t hear the sound of pebbles hitting my window.

Plick, plick, plick

I rubbed my eyes and slammed my laptop shut, walking toward my bedroom window. Peering down, I saw a figure a few yards down from my second-story bedroom, looking back up at me. Dark brown, messy hair that stuck up around his face. A red and black flannel, black ripped jeans, and, (of course) a tee-shirt with “Loded Diper” clumsily written on it. A grin spread on his face as he saw my face come into his view, causing me to blush. Rodrick Heffley, Crossland High bad boy, and my boyfriend.

I unlocked the latch to my window and stuck my head out, taking in the cool air and letting the neighbors enjoy the music I was playing (they never did). I looked down.

“Y/N!” He whisper-yelled

“Evening, Heffley.”

“I need to tell you something!”

“What’s so important that you have to scratch my window instead of using the power of modern technology to call me?”

His mouth opened to give me a response, but nothing came out. I smirked, “Come on up.”

I opened the window wider as he climbed the trellis that lined the back of my house. I backed up to my door and locked it. Precautions, my parents liked Rodrick but they definitely wouldn’t approve of him in my room at night. I looked back and I saw him, every feature of him illuminated by the light of my room. His cheeky smile and chocolate brown eyes. He slowly closed the window and walked toward me, brushing a strand of hair out of my face. I still got butterflies whenever he touched me.

“Hey, Spiderman. What did ya climb in here to tell me?” I asked

“I got Loded Diper into a contest.”

My eyes widened, Loded Diper, my boyfriend’s rock band, wasn’t exactly known for being the best. It was mostly known for his mom’s insane dance moves during the Plainview Talent Show. But of course, i'll never say that in front of his face.

“You did?! That’s awesome Rodrick!”

“Yeah! It's a battle of the bands contest, we’re going against two other bands. I really think this is gonna be our big break!” His eyes sparkled in excitement.

His happiness was contagious, he was like a goddamn puppy. I pulled him into my arms. “I’m proud of you Rod.” I muttered and smiled into his collarbone. I felt him inhale the scent of my hair and twirl my locks around his fingers.

“Hey,” he said, breaking the hug. “I’m having practice tomorrow with the band, you wanna come?”

“Sure. I go to every practice anyway, why miss out on this one?” I shrugged.

He chuckled and looked at me. Really looked at me. That’s one of the reasons why I fell for him. It never seemed like it, but he paid attention. We’ve only been dating for 4 months, but he knew me like no one else did, and I knew that in the way he looked at me. I felt his hand cup my face, his thumb rubbing my cheek in small circles. I looked up at him, noticing how tall he was, how close he was. Was I the one who leaned in? Was he the one who leaned in? Did we just do it subconsciously? Did he want this? Was he ready? Was I ready?

The ringing of Rodrick’s phone filled the room. The daze we were trapped in was gone and we separated, our faces red. Rodrick picked up the phone, it was his mom.

“Yeah, mom? Mom...I’m in the middle of something. I’ll do laundry later, ok? Now? C’mon… Alright, fine. Bye.” He hung up. “Sorry, I gotta blast.”

“It’s fine, I’ll see you tomorrow?” I asked him as he started toward my window.

He looked back at me and planted a kiss on my forehead, the farthest we’ve ever gone with physical touch as a couple.

“Tomorrow”

~~✰✰✰~~

14 Days till the Contest | 1:22 PM, Saturday afternoon

“Should we take it from the top?”

Practice wasn’t going so well. I could feel the nervousness, the tension. Drums were slightly off beat, the guitarist’s fingers would fly to the wrong places on the fretboard, lyrics would go all over the place. The contest was two weeks away, and Loded Diper was already feeling the anxiousness. I sat on the floor of the garage, on top of a picnic blanket I found. To Rodrick’s dismay, his mom forced him to let Greg watch band practice, as a form of “brother-to-brother bonding time.” Greg sat next to me, mockingly covering his ears.

“Oh thank god, it's done.” Greg said with an immense amount of sarcasm and uncovering his ears.

Rodrick threw a crumpled-up piece of paper at his head, “Shut up.”

“Both of you, be nice.” I laughed. “I think you guys should take a break for a while, maybe shake off the nerves.”

“Good idea Y/N, 20 minute break everyone!” The lead singer said. Everyone spread out, grabbing a piece of pizza ordered earlier and laying down. Greg ran out of the garage, yelling, “I’m free!”

Rodrick stood up and began gulping down a bottle of water. He wore a black tanktop and black ripped jeans, sweat dripping down his forehead. I ran up behind him and wrapped my arms around his torso. He turned and faced me, running his hands through my hair, lost in thought.

“You ok, Rod?” I asked him.

He sighed, “nerves”

I leaned my head on his chest, “You’re gonna do great, you’ve done so many gigs in the past. Think of this as one of those!”

He smiled at me, “You know what would make me feel a lot less nervous?”

“Oh god. What?”

A really common thing Rodrick did was try to bargain a kiss on the lips from me. It's been an ongoing joke, a meaningless bit he did all the time. I’ll do my homework if you kissed me on the lips. I’ll smile in the picture if you kissed me on the lips. It still hasn’t worked.

“I might be less nervous if you kissed me on the lips.” He whispered to me.

I rolled my eyes, “If that’s what it takes then I think you’ll lose the competition.”

He let go of me and laughed, my favorite laugh. “Worth a try.” He shrugged, going off to join his bandmates and the pizza. But as I watched him smile and laugh with his friends, I lost myself. I thought about the previous night. The way we fit into each other, the closeness, the fact that was so close that I could see my reflection in his eyes.

Maybe I should just say yes.

~~✰✰✰~~

The Day of the Contest

For the past 2 weeks, Rodrick has given me the “kiss-bargain” joke 9 times. Every time, I deflected it with sarcastic remarks, and every time I regretted not agreeing.

I sat on the front steps of my porch, waiting for Rodrick to pick me up. I regretted the jean shorts and plain black tee-shirt I had on, as a cold breeze brushed my skin. I pulled my black leather jacket on, which I painted “Loded Diper” on the back in white paint. Then, I heard it. The echo of heavy metal turned to full blast, and… the faint sound of something big getting knocked over. Oh god, they’re here. The white van with “Loded Diper” written in huge words screeched to a halt in front of my house.

The window rolled down, revealing my boyfriend and his excited grin. “Get in.”

~~✰✰✰~~

30 minutes till Loded Diper preforms

It felt surreal to be backstage, and really exciting. Energy was flowing through the room, as all the other bands talked and played. The rest of the band members seemed excited, full of adrenaline. Except for Rodrick, he’s been nervous ever since soundcheck. His leg was bouncing,he twirled his drumsticks around, drumming them on random objects, and his eyes stared into nothing.

“Rodrick, you want me to do your eyeliner?”

“Huh?” He didn’t take his eyes away from the ground, his voice seemed far away.

I lifted a liquid eyeliner pen I had in my pocket, “Eyeliner. I just did mine, we can match!”

He lifted his head and noticed me. I had my eyeliner smudged, just like he always does during a gig. He grinned, “Yeah. Yeah sure.”

I’ve done his eyeliner many times in the past, and I loved doing it because I had to be as close to him as possible. So I hopped onto his lap, pressing myself close to him, trying to comfort him with my warmth.

“Close your eyes.” I ordered.

As I applied his eyeliner, I could feel his heartbeat against my chest. It was heavy, and fast. I’m pretty sure I would still hear it if I wasn’t as close to him as I was, even though the loud music blasting through the theatre.

“Done”

He opened his eyes, and butterflies flooded my stomach. We were close. Very close. Should I do it? Should I lean in?

Rodrick probably sensed my flustered-ness. He smirked, “Cat got your tongue?”

I rolled my eyes, blushing hard. “Shut up.” I said, playfully punching him.

~~✰✰✰~~

“5 Minutes until Loded Diper performs!” A man exclaimed to us.

Rodrick was as nervous as ever. We’ve been standing on the left wing of the stage, watching the other bands play. It felt like a bunch of Loded Diper copy-pastes. A bunch of high schoolers, weird names, very aggressive playing. But they were still pretty good. Rodrick was biting the nails of one of his hands and tapping his other hand on the wall behind him. I looked up at him and held his hand, stopping it from fidgeting. He smiled nervously.

Now or never Y/N…

“Hey, you said that if I kiss you, you won’t be as nervous. Right?”

He looked at me, wide eyed. He seemed to be trying to compute what I said.

I stood on tiptoe and put his face in my hands. It was that night all over again. Every detail of his face, of him was in full view. His eyes, his eyeliner, his scent, his lips. I leaned in.

His lips were soft against mine, but they were tense, flustered. I was terrified, It was the wrong place, the wrong time. Until I felt one hand in my hair, another on my waist, pulling me closer.

How long was the kiss? A few seconds? It felt like minutes, hours. Sparked ignited. Butterflies flew in my stomach. His scent was the only thing I smelled, his warmth was the only thing I felt. The music faded away. Everything faded away. It was just him and I. Until we broke apart, taking in deep breaths of each other. We wanted more, but Loded Diper was playing in a few seconds.

“Hey, Rodrick.”

“Yeah?”

“If you win I’ll kiss you again”

We both knew I would kiss him regardless.

I didn't edit this because editing is for wimps (just kidding be responsible and edit your work)

please like and reblog because it gives me serotonin and i need that

[let-it-raines]

I Hope We Never See October (7/?)

When his personal life and football career go up in flames, Killian Jones escapes England for America, finding seclusion in Martha’s Vineyard in order to hide from his demons. It’s a fresh start, or at the very least a paused moment in his life, and all he needs is a few months alone to allow his heart to heal. He doesn’t count on meeting Emma Swan.

Emma’s life depends on tourists who come to the island every summer. It’s how she makes her money working in restaurants and clubs across the vineyard, but every year, she cannot wait until autumn comes and her life returns to normal. She especially cannot wait for Killian Jones to leave.

Rating: Mature

a/n: I so rarely get the time to go through comments anymore, but I had some time this morning and just plowed through responding to a bunch but not all (I'm getting there). I want to let you all know that you're sweethearts, and I really appreciate you! ❤️

AO3: Beginning | Current Tumblr: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 |

-/-

“So tell me, what are your intentions with our dear Emma?”

Killian coughs on his water, but luckily, he swallows it before it can all come out on his shorts. They’ve finally dried after Emma pulled him into the water, payback for him tossing her in, and he’d like to not be chilled after the sun has set and the air around them has cooled. Most of the Nolans’ neighbors have left and returned to their own homes, but several still remain lounging in the pool or inside where it’s warmer.

“Excuse me?”

“Emma,” Ruby repeats. The woman’s a little drunk, but no one would know it if it wasn’t for the slight way she delays a few of her words. Ruby’s girlfriend is inside getting her coffee now, but Killian already knows the hangover in the morning will be a killer. “Our lovely Emma Swan. What are your intentions with her?”

“To be her friend,” Killian says, not sure how to answer. Emma’s inside with David and Mary Margaret, and he wishes she were here to save him from this conversation.

“And to fuck her,” Ruby adds, and Killian nearly chokes on his water again. “But let me tell you something.” She pokes his chest, and Killian laughs. “She likes you.” “Is that what she said?”

“No, but she’s my best friend. I know her, and she likes you. Emma doesn’t like anyone. She talks about you all the time. I think she has a crush.”

“Does she now? Talk about me, that is.”

“Maybe not an official crush, but she talks about you, so she might as well write Emma Swan likes Killian Jones on all of her notebooks.”

She’s drunk, he reminds himself. She’s drunk, and she’s not sure what she’s saying. He and Emma have an agreement, and even though they can be rather friendly with each other, that’s simply the aftereffect of spending so much time together. You have to be a good communicator in order to have good sex, and, well, he might not be good at a lot of things now, but he’s good at that.

“Okay, lass,” he starts, standing from the chair. He helps Ruby stand as well, but she quickly does it on her own. Like her words, her steps only barely fumble, and he thinks that has something to do with the ridiculous heels she’s wearing. “Let’s go inside with everyone else, and let’s not talk about Emma anymore.”

Ruby hums, but he knows she won’t listen. He braces himself for the fallout.

But to his surprise, she doesn’t make a beeline for Emma. She goes straight to Mulan, hugging her as she makes Ruby’s coffee. Killian, however, does head for Emma. She’s on the couch in the living room. Her hair is freshly combed through, and she’s wearing what he can only assume are a pair of Mary Margaret’s pajamas. He’s seen an assortment of Emma’s, and there are very few floral sets like this.

Killian slips onto the cushion next to her, keeping his space. They’ve crossed a few of their own boundaries lately, but sometimes it’s good to keep them in place, especially around other people. Not that it matters here when everyone knows what he and Emma are to each other.

Well, what he thinks they are to each other. He’s trying not to put too much stock into what Ruby said, but the words have settled directly into the middle of his mind.

“What are you wearing?” he asks since everyone else seems to be occupied by the baseball game on the television.

“Mary Margaret’s. I didn’t bring extra clothes, and some asshole threw me into the pool.”

“What a wanker.”

Emma laughs and pulls a blanket up further over her, wrapping her body in it. “Do you want to leave soon? Go back to my place? It’s closer than yours.”

“You sure you haven’t had enough of me today?”

Emma exhales and pats his knee. “I’m sure.”

They drive separately to Emma’s place. Killian parks in his usual spot across the street while Emma parks in the driveway and leaves the front door unlocked for him to follow through. She’s already tossing her wet clothes into the washing machine by the time he gets inside.

“Hand me yours. I’ll wash them too.”

Killian glances down at his clothes. “I won’t have anything else to wear, darling. Though, I’m sure that’s your intention.”

Emma rolls her eyes and holds her hand out. “I don’t have to fake doing your laundry to see your dick, Jones. Just give me the clothes. You’ve left stuff upstairs.”

Killian slowly pulls his t-shirt off, making it as seductive as possible, but Emma only starts tapping her foot. He laughs and tosses his shirt into the machine before doing the same with his shorts and briefs. Emma does a bland wolf whistle, and Killian adds a small amount of sway to his hips as he walks upstairs to find the clothes she claims he left behind. There’s a pair of joggers in one of her drawers, which he quickly pulls on before going to her bathroom to brush his teeth. She joins him to do her nightly routine that he knows as well as his own now.

Wash face. Moisturize face. Brush teeth. Brush hair. Put lotion on arms and legs. Get in bed.

It’s far more intimate than he’s been with a woman in a long time, since Tink actually, but nothing about it is truly complicated. There’s no wondering if he’s taking her out enough, if he’s being supportive enough, if he’s being emotionally vulnerable enough, if he’s being enough. His arrangement with Emma is simple, even if sometimes little slivers of complicated slip in.

He likes her, likes sleeping with her, and even if he knows this all ends when he returns to his real life in England before October, he’s going to enjoy it for now.

Ruby’s words poke at the back of his mind, but he brushes them away. Again. And again until they disappear, at least for now. He knows they’ll sneak back in because if Emma likes him the way a drunk Ruby thinks, that could be complicated in more ways than he’s willing to think about.

More ways than he can handle without his own head becoming a messy place when this is the first time in a long time it’s been clear.

(But who is he kidding? The messy is already starting to slip in.)

Killian joins Emma in her bed, getting comfortable underneath the covers, and Emma flips over, the strap of her ridiculous floral pajamas falling over. Killian reaches for it and tugs it back up, his thumb running underneath her collarbone. Her skin is always ridiculously soft, which she always claims is from the lotion.

It’s not.

“Today was nice,” he whispers, still running his thumb along her collarbone. He leans in, gently and nudges his nose underneath it, breathing her in. She still smells of chlorine. “Thanks for letting me come along.” Emma hums and runs her hands through his hair, scratching along his scalp. Damn, that feels good. “I couldn’t stop you if I tried…not that I would. I guess you’re allowed to spend time with my friends.”

“Your generosity overflows.” Emma laughs, and Killian continues to work his mouth along her collarbone. “Your laugh is spectacular.” He drags his nose down her chest until he’s pushing aside her shirt and freeing her breast. “This is also spectacular.”

She laughs again, and Emma quickly unbuttons her shirt so Killian can have a better grasp on her breast. She arches her back and pulls down her shorts, and while Killian wasn’t planning on this being anything more than some light teasing, he now knows it isn’t that.

Not that he would ever complain.

His mouth dries when Emma reaches between them and grabs his cock underneath his joggers. It feels damn good, like it always does, and he moves away from Emma’s stomach to help pull down his joggers so Emma can get a better grip. Her hand is warm and soft, and he could let her do this all night.

“Fuck,” he whispers, and Emma smirks. “You think you’re so funny, don’t you?”

“I’m hysterical. Get on your back.”

“You know I like a woman in charge.”

“Alright, don’t get on your back.”

Killian huffs and kisses just above her navel before flipping over onto his back, propping his head up with pillows. Emma moves to straddle his thighs, rubbing herself over him in order to tease, and Killian places his hands on her hips, helping her balance. It’s slow when she guides him into her, and Killian curses at how good it feels, how good she feels. It’s even slower when Emma begins to move her hips, a gentle back and forth that has her hair falling in damp waves over her shoulders. It’s a good view, a good feeling, even when the room is only illuminated by the moonlight shining through the window on the opposite side of the room and the light coming through the hallway door. It makes Emma’s hair glow nearly silver, and he grabs the ends, running it between his fingers.

Emma begins to talk about the party, telling him he missed a rousing rendition of Chicago, courtesy of a drunk Mary Margaret, and Killian doesn’t even want to imagine that. Emma does a pretty good impersonation, however, so he really has no choice other than to think about it.

This is good. It’s nice. For the last couple years, sex has been nothing but scratching the itch. It’s been fast, simple, and maybe only involved a few dates. There was no talking or laughing, and there definitely was not any impersonating drunk friends doing musical numbers.

Emma is so damn closed off most of the time, but there are moments like this, like earlier when she shared a little about her past, that he wonders if she’s becoming a little more open.

He thinks he’d like to get to know her more. At least as a friend since he knows more won’t be possible.

There those thoughts come again, invading his space just like Emma is.

Emma’s movements become a little stunted, the roll of her hips not as smooth, so Killian tightens his grip on her thighs and slowly moves them over. When he slips out of her, he quickly thrusts back in as they settle into their new position. The air is tight in his chest, his release coming faster than he expected, and he whispers so to Emma as his hand reaches down between them while her legs wrap around his ass and her hands trace the muscles in his back.

It’s good.

It’s all so bloody good, and he doesn’t want it to end.

But it does, of course, in several hissed curses and whispered words, and Killian grins into Emma’s collarbone before rolling off her.

“I was not expecting that,” Emma mumbles, patting his stomach, “but it works for me.”

“Glad to be of service,” Killian chuckles.

Emma hums and then gets out of bed to walk to the bathroom while he cleans up around them before grabbing the joggers off the floor and putting them back on. Emma comes out of the bathroom in a pair of shorts and a tank top, a much more Emma-like outfit, and he smiles before getting comfortable in bed. He could go home, go back to the big house with no one around, but he knows Emma will let him stay here until she has to go to work in the morning.

“I’m exhausted,” Emma sighs before getting into bed and yanking the covers up to her neck. “Do you think I could get away with playing hooky tomorrow?”

“On a Sunday morning? At the Blue Dog?”

“Ugh,” she groans, “you’re right. I hate when you’re right.” “So you hate me all the time then?”

Emma rolls her eyes and kicks his shin. “Goodnight, Jones.”

Killian leans over and kisses her cheek. “Goodnight, Swan.”

-/-

The sun is beginning to rise when he wakes, the dark sky being infiltrated by little bursts of orange light, and while Killian tries to bury his face in Emma’s hair and fall back asleep, he can’t. Despite his best efforts, he’s awake, and after spending nearly an hour answering texts and emails from Ariel, Elsa, and Scarlet, he slowly climbs out of bed, making sure not to disturb Emma, and goes downstairs to fix breakfast. His stomach growls with hunger despite how much he ate yesterday, and surprisingly, Emma has food in her fridge. She’s a fan of take-out and leftovers from her places of work, so rarely is there ever food in the fridge.

Killian takes the eggs and milk out, grabbing some fruit too, before he grabs some flour from her cabinets. It’s been years since he used a waffle maker, and despite a disastrous first attempt, he gets the hang of it enough to start making some eggs on the stove. Emma can sleep like the dead, but her alarm should be going off any minute now. Usually, she heads straight for the shower, but Killian knows Emma can’t resist food, especially if it’s something different than what she eats every day.

There’s a creak upstairs, obviously Emma’s footsteps, and then he hears a door open, and Killian flips the waffle over.

“Emma, love, do you want fruit in your waffles? Or maybe some chocolate. I know you must have chocolate around here.”

There’s no answer, at least not from Emma.

“Are you my mom’s friend?”

Killian jumps and turns to see a kid standing in the kitchen. What the hell? Who the hell is that, and what is he doing in Emma’s house?

“Who, uh, who’s your mum?” Killian asks, scratching his ear and hoping Emma comes down the stairs at any moment. Maybe this is a neighbor’s kid who decided to have a little fun today. “Who are you, mate?”

“I think the better question,” an older man holding suitcases says, “is who the hell are you? And what do you think you’re doing in my son’s house?”

-/-

-/-

@qualitycoffeethings @marrtinski @klynn-stormz @scarletslippers @elizabeethan @jrob64 @therealstartraveller776 @thejollyroger-writer @galadriel26 @galaxyzxstark @idristardis @karenfrommisthaven @teamhook @searchingwardrobes @jamif @shireness-says @ultimiflos @onepunintendid @killianswannn @carpedzem @captainkillianswanjones @mayquita @mariakov81 @jennjenn615 @onceuponaprincessworld @a-faekindagirl @scientificapricot @xellewoods @ultraluckycatnd @stahlop @kmomof4 @tiganasummertree @singersdd @tornadoamy @cluttermind @andiirivera @itsfabianadocarmo @captain-emmajones @ilovemesomekillianjones @taylrsversion @dramioneswan @jonesfandomfanatic @wefoundloveunderthelight @gloriousfemaleworrier @spartanguard @snowbellewells

[last-operator-standing]

Toll Of The Bell

Chapter 3 - Sonder

> Read on Ao3

> Chapter 1 (tumblr)

> Chapter 2 (tumblr)

> Chapter 4 (tumblr)

Summary: What now? He could roll over and accept the fate thrust upon him and die as Adler intended. Starting a new life away from it all couldn’t be that bad either. Or…

Or he could finish the mission.

Rating: Mature

Warnings: No Warning apply this chapter

Words: 1.8k (7.3k total)

A/N: I'm sorry this one took so long asjdfjf I'm awful at keeping any sort of regular schedule- but i'm going to be trying much harder to keep the chapters flowing :') I'd love to hear any thoughts, and thank you all for the support <3 (p.s. Adler will be here v soon- Promise uwu)

"Please stop staring at me."

Bell has no intention of doing so. He's been staring down Lazar from the moment the man stumbled into the kitchen to join him at the table. The sunlight is harsh despite the closed curtains and the coffee fails to stimulate either agent's mind. This certainly isn't Lazar's ideal morning. The silence stretches on, but the uncomfortable feeling of Bell's eyes on him has him sighing loudly.

"Damn, Bell, alright." Lazar gives in. The chair scrapes loudly against the tile floor as he pushes back to stand, disappearing for a moment and returning with a bag. It piques Bell's curiosity; he was too tired to notice it last night.

A folder slaps loudly against the table and slides a few centimeters towards Bell. The Russian, unable to contain himself, surges forward to snatch it. "You're right about your buddy. Definitely a smuggler of sorts."

Bell flips the folder open and begins rooting through the contents. A picture of Kapano Vang is clipped on the inside. The first page has basic information. Name, call sign, date and place of birth. Bell's more interested in the finer details: A few suspected routes, potential cartel members, a list of what they believe is being smuggled. There's a few recurring words that catch his eye. Golden Triangle Cartel is scribbled at the bottom and underlined twice. Beside it, drawn in bold red ink and circled multiple times, Bell reads PERSEUS?

"What did you see yesterday, in those memories of yours?"

Bell gives a small shake of his head. "It was a bar, I think. He was there." He taps the portrait with a finger. "And someone else who knew us but.. I couldn't remember his face," The Russian gives a disappointed click of his tongue. "Or his name."

Lazar tries to offer a reassuring smile. "Hey, don't sweat it. It'll come back to you."

Bell wishes he could share in Lazar's positivity. He really does. But he can't be sure what brought the memories to him in the first place, or why they were so fragmented. After spending much of the night agonizing over any additional detail he might remember about Perseus or Kapano Vang or anyone else he had seen at that bar and coming up short, Bell's hope started to slip. In the end he could only point fingers at Adler and his MK-Ultra project. "So what's next?"

Lazar doesn't answer right away. He looks thoughtful. Even with their revelation on Kapano Vang and his cartel, they are nowhere closer to finding Perseus than they were before. They are back to square one.

"Well, I could try cross-referencing with MI6 again-" he means Park, Bell thinks with a snort "-and see if they have anything new."

Lazar's looking at him intently and Bell realizes he's waiting for a response. "Oh, uh. Yeah." Bell shifts awkwardly in his seat. "Whatever you say."

A week later, the two man team have no progress to show for their efforts. In that time, Bell's gone over the files at least a dozen and a half times and nothing's changed, nor have any new memories resurfaced. Lazar's cross-referencing has yet to unearth anything new either, telling Bell MI6 is just in the dark as they are.

"This isn't working, Laz." Bell slams the paper back against the kitchen table. His irritation is reflected in the other man's face but Lazar does a better job at hiding it. "We just have to keep looking," Lazar sighs. "We have the answer here somewhere."

Bell clicks his tongue in disapproval. "I've been over these files again and again. There's nothing here. We're not going to find Perseus on some piece of paper-" An idea strikes Bell. Something he never considered before now.

"Bell?" Lazar frowns. "You alright?"

"What if we look for that bar?" Excitement shines in Bell's eyes. Lazar's startled by his suggestion.

"I don't know-"

"C'mon, Laz, think about it. There was more than one Perseus agent there, in my memory." A plan was beginning to hatch in Bell's mind. From the way he's looking at him, Lazar doesn't like where he's going with it. "If we find that bar, maybe we can find one of those agents. Maybe even match some of these faces." He looks down at the file of unconfirmed but suspected Perseus soldiers.

"I don't know about this," Lazar repeats slowly, uncertainly. "If someone recognizes us it could cause some trouble. Especially if they recognize you. You helped stop Perseus the first time. No doubt his people are painfully aware of that."

Bell doesn't want to hear it, though. "It's just a risk we'll have to take," he argues. "I'm a spy, Laz. I know how to keep my head down."

After a bit of back and forth it's settled. First, they'll compile a list of bars in areas known or suspected to be frequented by Perseus. Then, while in constant contact, as Lazar insists, Bell will make his way through each alone and hope nobody recognizes him while he searches for the bar from his memory.

It takes two days to assemble a full list and another day and a half to narrow it down and map a route.

"I'm still not happy about this," Lazar grunts as he drops a duffel bag onto the table. Bell eagerly snatches it and begins shuffling inside. "You worry too much, old man."

The first thing Bell pulls from the bag is a change of clothes. They both agreed he needs something casual. And clean. It would make blending in with the crowd much easier. Too excited about the upcoming mission has Bell stripping where he stands. No time for modesty.

"C'mon, Bell, in the kitchen?" Lazar turns with a light pink tinting his face. Bell grins wide but doesn’t reply. The new outfit fits comfortably. He returns to the bag and roots around for his next prize. There’s a knife with a sheath and a small handgun waiting at the bottom. The knife is removed first. Bell carefully slides it free of its sheath. The blade is unusually slim and dark in color, and sports a dangerously sharp tip with partial serration of both sides near the hilt. Bell’s entirely absorbed in admiring the blade, so much so that he misses Lazar’s amused look until he speaks up.

“I thought you’d like that one.”

Bell returns the smile. “Oh, hell yeah. It reminds me of the one I had in-”

“Hey, Sims! You know reading that shit’s gonna make you go blind.”

“Yep! That’s why I want it alll up here.” Sims shot Adler a lazy grin. The commander slapped the book back against Sims’ chest.

“Bell, you’re with Sims. You usually bring out the best in each other.”

“RPGS! BRACE! BRACE!”

Bell watched in horror as a rocket collided with the chopper beside theirs. It careened dangerously before smashing into theirs, sending their own bird into a death spiral.

Everything was in chaos.

“Grab my hand! I gotcha! I got-!”

“We’ve lost power-!”

“We’re going down-!”

“BRACE!”

Bell blinks hard and his smile falls. There’s a knowing look on Lazar’s face and neither agent speaks a word about it. “C’mon,” Lazar gives a pat to Bell’s shoulder. “Showtime.”

The pair ride in silence. Lazar’s behind the wheel, giving Bell some time to think. He tries to keep the mission center focus, but the memories of Vietnam are overwhelming, fresh in his mind as if they just happened. And they’re not even real. I was never in Vietnam.

The car rolls to a stop and breaks Bell from his thoughts. “Alright, remember, coms on at all times.” Bell rolls his eyes and pops the door, deftly sliding from his seat. “I mean it, Bell!” But he slams the door without reply, turning towards the street. The small earpiece is already safely pressed into his ear and hidden behind his hair.

The checkered brick sidewalks stretch wide on either side of the street. There’s a decent amount of people strolling to and fro, some carrying briefcases and dressed in neatly pressed suits, others in casual attire with seemingly no important place to be. Lazar pulls off, leaving Bell to head for the first destination on his list.

The first thing Bell notices as he pushes into the first bar is the pungent mingling of smoke, alcohol, and sweat in the air. The floor beneath his boots is a glossy hardwood and matches the light oaken walls. The occupants chatter noisily, and although the sound is familiar, the atmosphere is not. This is not the right place. Keeping his appearance as casual as possible, Bell slips through the crowd and retreats out the back door. He glances around to confirm he’s alone before mumbling his findings to Lazar.

One down, seven more to go.

The second bar Bell stumbles into is smaller. There are less individuals milling around and the golden walls are all wrong from the dark cedar panels from his memory. The third bar is even less promising, while the fourth and fifth are so far from Bell’s memory that he’s positive he’s working backwards now.

Bell rejoins the thinning herd on the streets with a dejected sigh. This wasn’t working out. There’s two more bars to check and already it was getting dark. He’d hope for something; A clue, a new memory, a familiar face. Lazar keeps up with words of encouragement but Bell doesn’t have the capacity to share the optimism.

The sixth bar Bell checks holds a notable hushed atmosphere. Right away he’s stricken by the dark atmosphere. It felt.. Tense. Insidious. It doesn’t feel right, but for an entirely different reason. While most of the denizens ignore Bell, a few side-eye him dangerously. He steps to the counter and orders a drink, primarily to alleviate any suspicions from both inside and out.

Bell can’t shake the feeling of eyes boring into his back. It’s somehow different from when he first walked in and was certainly making him more uncomfortable. He shifts in his seat and tries his best to nonchalantly turn and find who the hell was staring at him so hard, but when he looks, he finds nothing out of the ordinary.

The feeling of unease doesn’t leave. He grows antsy and finally after paying with money given to him by Lazar, Bell downs the last of his drink and turns back into the streets. This is certainly not going the way Bell had hoped. The seventh bar is quite the walk from the sixth, allowing him some time to breathe and collect his thoughts.

The feeling of unease melts from Bell’s shoulders the longer he walks. Lazar’s quiet so he turns his attention outward and listens curiously to the broken chatter of the dwindling civilians.

“-think he talks about anything else?”

“Well, it’s not like-”

“Timur?”

“That’s not.. Point.. Why else-”

“Timur!”

“I just think you should consider-”

A hand lands heavily on Bell’s shoulder, stopping him in his tracks. He turns in surprise.

“Timur!” A man stands before Bell with a lazy smirk and a gleam to his eyes- as if he recognizes him. His dark hair is cropped close to his head and a pair of lightly tinted shades adorns his face. The accent is certainly not Russian, and it throws Bell off guard. “Hey! Remember me?”

[haechanniesunflowers]

Meeting the in-laws in Australia

Author's note(s): man I suck at writing, I have a really great story line in my head and I'm trying my best to write it like a decent quadrilingual (yes I speak 4 languages, no I'm not lying) human being but like I said I suck at it. I'm literally crying and reading such perfect fics written by people here, y'all are doing great. Also I put in some songs from my playlist pls enjoy.

Anyways, this is part 1 in honor of me reaching 500 followers (really appreciate you guys, even if we don't interact at all). Wait for part 2 and others okay bye.

Part 1

"have you packed your toothbrush?" you ask as you slumped on your bed, tired. You stare at the ceiling and tried to put your thoughts in place. Completely ignoring your husband's answer to your question.

"y/n? Hello?" Chris says, bringing you out of your trance.

"huh? Sorry I wasn't listening" you say.

"I said I packed my toothbrush but I can't find my razors and shaving cream" he said.

"where did you put it?"

"if I remembered, I wouldn't be asking you sweetheart" he smiled.

"it's your stuff, how would I know where it's supposed to be" you reply.

"spicy" he comments.

"and you can't handle spicy so stop this" you say, getting up from the bed and walking towards the closest.

He grabs your wrist and pulls you closer to him, staring lovingly into your eyes. You get shy and look away but he makes you face him again. You can see the love and desire in his eyes. Suddenly you feel conscious, he's staring at my imperfections. You weren't always confident about your looks. You didn't like your big eyes that weren't even the same size. You wished that your left eye was as big as the right one, or the right one could've been a bit smaller like the left one. And your nose? oh how you wished yours looked as good as Minho's. And your small pouty lips, why couldn't they be perfect like those kpop idol girls'. A million thoughts were running through your head and you try to free yourself from his grasp.

"look at me" he says, and you do. You look at the most important person in your life. He still gives your butterflies. His little deeds still make your heart flutter.

"what are you thinking about Chris?" your voive is barely above a whisper.

"how did I get so lucky" he swoons making you shy and you hide your face in the crook of his neck. He wraps his arms around you. In reality, even after dating him for 5 years and getting married recently, you never truly understood what he saw in you. He complimented your looks, your personality, your fashion sense, everything. But you didn't see what he saw. You thought of yourself as an average looking woman who got lucky by bumping into Chris at a party and stubbing his toe and apologizing profusely. And now here you were, almost 6 years later, in your shared apartment, Mrs. Bang.

"I love you so much Chris"

"I love you so much too sweetheart" he says and kisses the top of your head.

You caress his face and say "I'd prefer you not shave anymore, I like facial hair on you"

He grins in response "you know I can't, it won't match my hair and on top of that, I can't take care of it, it's a hassle"

In this moment, you decide to tell him about your worries. He's all ears right now and you can't help but share.

"Chris I'm nervous" you start, "I know I've met your family before but that was when we were dating. I was meeting them as your family back then. This time I'm meeting my in-laws. I don't know where it's coming from but there's this pressure and just thinking about it is making me nervous. What if they don't really like me, I mean we're staying at your parents' place for the first time together. I don't know, I fear they won't like me."

He takes you to the lounge and sits you down on the couch, him next to you.

"hey I completely understand and it's okay to feel this way. Your concern is valid. But I want you to know that my family adores you. Sure they were a bit skeptical when I told them you're from a different country, speak a whole different language and your culture is different, but after they met you, they had nothing but nice things to say about you, I always tell you that. Don't worry, they like you and just be yourself. They'll get to know you more and you will fit right in. Besides, 4 weeks is a lot of time for you to get along with them. Oh and Hannah is the most excited to have you over, she says she got a good vibe the last time and felt a 'sisterly connection' I don't know"

You smile but the worry doesn't fade away.

"okay we need to pack the final things, our flight is in 3 hours Chris, get up"

"I'm going to the convenience store to get my shaving stuff, you need anything?" he says.

"no, I'll get sick if I eat anything before the flight, get me some gum please" you shudder, you had motion sickness so you preferred to skip meals before travelling.

"okay I'll be back in a flash" he says.

You go back to your bedroom to do a final check of the suitcases. You hum songs to yourself to ease the tension, why am I nervous already? Chris is right, I should just be myself and try to fit in. You reassure yourself.

You pull your phone out and start scrolling through tumblr. but what if I don't fit in? what if me being myself isn't good enough and I'm a burden for them for 4 weeks? What if I let Hannah down and don't be the sister she wants me to be? Wait, I need to clear my head. This is just going to get worse if I keep thinking about it.

You play Sun&Moon by NCT 127 to calm yourself down while you wait for Chris to return and pack his final bag. He returns after 20 minutes and you two get ready to leave for the airport. He puts the luggages and bags in the lounge and heads to take a shower before getting dressed. You check your essentials in your purse and make sure the electronics are unplugged and only the main lights of the apartment are on, like your bedroom and the lounge.

You decide to wait on the couch for Chris to finish showering so you can take one yourself. Trying your best to push the tensions aside, you close your eyes and sing a song to yourself, a habit you developed during your time in university.

So I won't hesitate~No more, no more~It cannot wait~I'm yours~There's no need to complicate~Our time is short~This is our fate~I'm yours

You're so focused on your lowkey singing that you don't realize Chris coming out of the bathroom, getting dressed and standing next to the couch, just enjoying you singing.

"hey, I'm out, your can shower now" he says in a low voice, smiling towards you.

You get up and go to the bathroom, ridding yourself of your clothes and standing under the warm water. You wanted to stay like this for some time but time was short so you get going, not really rushing yourself. You come out in a towel to get dressed, singing Fly Me To The Moon to yourself. You walk to your husband, who's patiently waiting for you.

"let's get going" you say.

He takes the luggages to the car waiting outside while you make final checkings. windows locked? check. lights off? check. stove off? check. bed made? check. passports and visas? check. door locked? check.

You both get in the car and head towards the airport. After getting the necessary procedure done everyone starts boarding. You're sat next to your husband and listen to the hostess' announcement.

"Thank you and enjoy the flight"

With that, the plane takes off. You're still nervous about meeting your in-laws but being in a plane scares you more so you're kinda preoccupied.

You look over to Chris to see him sound asleep with headphones on. great, just great.

You decide it would be best to just forget that you are thousands of feet about the ground and listen to some music. (playing LAUV's i met you when I was 18 album). You pray for things to be in favour of you and close your eyes, it's gonna be a long flight so might as well catch up on some sleep.

to be continued...

[bubblesthemonsterartist]

*cracks knuckles* Clearly I’m going straight for the Blackout. 

ENJOY, FRIENDS. FOR YOU, I THROW IT UNDER THE CUT

Under 1000 Words

take my burdens (and bury them deep) by @thelionshymnal​ Rated M Nothing makes me happier than a fic of my favorite BroTP, especially when Obi is offering to disappear Kiki’s dirty dealings. Content warning for attempted sexual assault and Obi doing what he does best: getting rid of the body.

A Fic That Got You Involved In Fandom

Seven Suitors for Shirayuki by @sabraeal​ Rated T Look. You all are just going to have to accept that there is a certain generation of this fandom that was dragged in, kicking and screaming, by this fic. I wanted to diversify by saying something else managed it, but no. It was the fact that this story was stuck on chapter five for MONTHS that made me vibrate until my own fic fell out. XD

Made You Laugh Out Loud

An Extra Rise Before Dawn by @sabraeal​ Rated G I don’t often worry that I am going to pee from laughing so hard when I’m reading something, but this one definitely does. In one spot in particular. You might be able to guess it. It is simultaneously an incredible sweet and incredibly funny fic that hits all the right notes for me.

Favorite Trope Reversal

Fussing with Firedrakes by @leewritingrecs​ Rated T 1) Dragons. 2) Damsel in distress is no damsel and she is NOT in distress thank you very much 3) Kiki is a DRAGON 4) Obi is cursed, and 5) DID I MENTION D R A G O N S ???

Fic That Made You Friends With the Author

The Wide Florida Bay by @sabraeal​ Rated E I had to think about this because while I read Seven Suitors first, this was the series that made me start sending anons and eventually made me join tumblr where I proceeded to endlessly play the ‘what if’ game with Jen. CLEARLY this is where our friendship was forged.

Action-Packed Fight Scene

Agent, Parts I, II, and III by @infinitelystrangemachinex​ Rated T Like Jen, I was positively torn, because both Andi and Sarah do fight scenes SO WELL, but Agent ultimately won out because there is just something so delightful about Shirayuki flailing and clinging to Obi like a cat that doesn’t want to go in the bath while arrows zip all around them

Edit: Screw it, I’m reccing them both

Republic of Tanbarun by @claudeng80​ Rated T An action adventure series where romance is involved but is by no means the focus. Zen and Obi adventures abound. Politics galore. And some masterfully done slow-motion to quick motion fight scenes that I L O V E D

Gen Fic

Fugue in Three by @infinitelystrangemachinex​ Rated G Ryuu casually destroys Obi and Shirayuki by breathing as they count down the days until he comes of age. Technically this fic has a romantic pairing, but it is by no means the focus of this fic. If you don’t agree, you are welcome to meet me under the Big Oak between the hours of 12 and 4 for a duel.

Missing Scene

Like Brothers Do by @claudeng80​ Rated G Obi is clearly Kiki’s annoying big brother and handles Mitsuhide’s rejection in the best way he knows how. Also read: Mitsuhide gets what’s coming to him. (ง'̀-'́)ง

Canon Divergent

We work at the mall by @kaedix​ Rated T With how many AUs we got floating around this fandom, I was hard pressed to choose a favorite. But there is just something so sweet and wholesome and American teenager about this. It just latches onto you and never lets go. (Also the gang all work at my favorite places in the mall when I was growing up. What’s not to love?)

Steamiest Kiss

Were Hearts Not An Unknown Country by @sabraeal​ Rated T LOOK. SOMEONE was going to have to go dig this out of the rubble of her compilation fics and it might as well be me. Also the birthplace of the much loved AnS fandom practice of solstice kissing.

Contains Your Favorite Headcanon

The road to Clarines is Gravel by @codango​ Rated E Not the focus of the fic as a whole, but like, Torou and Obi are siblings. GALAXY MIND EXPLOSION. I mean, I loved that so much that I wrote a pre-canon fic of this fic. Additional note totally not related to the bingo square: I will ALWAYS be here for positive sex worker representation in fics. Fair warning, though, this is the most unfair AU in existence because the brain screams that it SHOULDN’T WORK and yet by some sort of writerly sorcery, it DOES. PLEASE READ IT IF YOU HAVEN’T ALREADY.

Wept Real Tears

let it make you by @thelionshymnal​ Rated M It’s not every day that someone manages to write a fic that makes me stare numbly at the very first line for a solid 15 minutes, big fat tears rolling down my cheeks, but Hymn did it. And then she somehow managed to kiss it better. All in 1100 words.

Free Space

AnS Role Swap AU by @owlsshadows​ Rated M This series has it all. Shirayuki as an assassin. Obi as both a royal bastard and a pharmacist. A mysterious meeting out in the woods where it makes you question whether Nanaki and Obi are two different people or the same. Also Zen having some very conflicted feelings regarding his royal authority and how he can choose to handle rejection.

Edit: Since I’ve already doubled up once, let me double up again, I have so much love to give and not enough space to give it!

Blizzard by @nebluus​ Rated T This is one of the earliest fics I read in this fandom and it remains to date one of my absolute favorites. Obi gets hurt protecting his Miss and a blizzard rolls in. Thankfully they find a cabin where Obi, who is definitely on his death bed if no one finds them and SOON, proceeds to still fuss over his Miss. Best scene: When he warms her hands with his. Also the second chapter is all sorts of delightful domesticity I IMPLORE you to please read it and soon.

Favorite Fan-Made OC

All Pain Will Turn to Medicine by @sabraeal​ Rated M All y’all should’ve seen these coming from ten miles out. I fucking LOVE Herr Anda, the cantankerous little bastard. And Jen knows this because she designed him specifically with me in mind. Academic catnap >:|

AU That Made You Find the Source Material

All Knotted Up by @sabraeal​ Rated G Admittedly, there are a great many AUs out there that made me look up the source material, but this Tangled AU is the most recent because I finally got on Disney+. And yes, Mitsuhide is the horse. Ryuu may be Pascal a little bit, but Mitsuhide. He’s The Horse. XD

First AnS Fic You Read

Loyalty by Evelyn Fiedler Rated K+ (which is basically G on AO3) My one and only ff.net rec from my earliest days in the fandom when I was combing for absolutely any content I could find, begging the fandom to help me decide if I was down for Obiyuki and all that it implied and this author most assuredly delivered.

Favorite Minor Character

Undertow by @jhalya​ Rated E The fic itself is a space odyssey of sorts. One mission among many where humanity attempts to colonize Mars. However the real selling point here, if you didn’t know, is Lord Seiran. He is a delightfully eccentric billionaire who clearly always wanted a large family, judging from how easily he fills out the adoption paperwork.

WIP

Caulk dirty to me by @leewritingrecs​ Rated E Have I mentioned I love the sex worker trope? I. Love. The. Sex. Worker. Trope. Also Obi is clearly divine at all of his jobs. Shirayuki already got to experience his skills at one of them. I wait with BAITED BREATH for her to experience the other :3

Canon Compliant

Thicker than Blood by @infinitelystrangemachinex​ Rated G In the aftermath of the death of King Kain, Izana and Zen must decide on which path they will take moving forward. Amazing fic. Unfinished, but a wonderful look into the dynamics between the Wisteria brothers and their absent mother.

One-Shot

Worth his Weight in Rice by @claudeng80​ Rated T AU set in an Edo-adjacent Period where a disease has wiped killed off a significant portion of the male population. Resulting societal shifts occur. If you go into the comments, I have a couple of pages worth of reasons why I love this AU, but what I appreciate even more is how you have an absolutely perfect oneshot in this fic. It is a well-translated universe where we get a delightful clear, beginning, middle, and end, all in 5k. NOT an easy feat. Please enjoy.

Rare Pair

the fog pushing through my mind by @thelionshymnal​ Rated E Obi/Yuzuri, friends with benefits. Two pining idiots with some sore feelings decide to get stoned and take comfort in another warm body for the night. I just really enjoyed the casual intimacy of the encounter and how this is clearly neither of their first experiences with a one night stand. Neither of them are going to make it weird in the morning, they just need to take the edge off, ya know? Additional bonus for Obi being ready to stab the dumbasses who made Yuzuri feel like she was a weirdo in her past.

AU You Took a Chance On (And Now Love)

Lightning in a Bottle by @jhalya​ Rated M I mean, if Jules is gonna play dirty by making Obi the hot fish man running around without his shirt on 99% of the time, then of COURSE I’m going to enjoy Deep Blue Sea. It’s, like, one of my favorite movies now.

Favorite Trope

Moonshine Phantom by @leewritingrecs​ Rated T We got a murder muffin who ALSO used to be a sex worker? Sign me the fuck up, I am 1000% here for this. Also all the showgirls who clearly love their coworker and only want him and his adorable wife to have the best. They may have never heard of her before, but she looks sweet, and they all have a silent agreement between them that if she breaks his heart, they’ll cut her.

Fic That Gave You a New OTP

What the Heart Wants by @sabraeal​ Rated G Haruto/Mukaze. An attempted kidnapping and subsequent rescue makes Zen and Shirayuki painfully aware that their parents have had, at some point in their lives, sex. Izana may not be happy about someone banging his mom, but is HE rather pleased at having a new sister. >:3c

Pre-Canon

The Wolf in the Woods by @krispy-kream​ (YES I STILL HAVE THIS BOOKMARKED) Rated G Everyone knows that I have very delicate food feels and this ALMOST went under the Wept Real Tears category, but I like to spread out the crying as much as possible XD Shirayuki finds a boy at the edge of the wood and decides he needs something to eat. Filed under: Guaranteed to wreck me in 500 words or less.

[hyuniebaby]

Focus (10)

Pairings: Baekhyun x Y/N x Junmyeon

AU: College student! Baekhyun, Professor! Junmyeon AU, college!au

A/N: So I've rewritten the whole Part 10 because Tumblr decided to mess it up... I didn't have any back-up file so… I completely changed the whole part. 😅 Sorry for updating this late, I had to cool down from my frustration over Part 10 getting deleted. I hope you still enjoy this~

Taglist: @coffee-prince-kyungsoo​ @thighhighsanti​ @littleflowercrown13​

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11

Mr. Kim doesn’t know what came over him when he started walking towards Baekhyun as soon as he had a glimpse of him. He was even more surprised when the words, “Mr. Byun, if you have time, please come by my office later” left his mouth.

Mr. Kim was a very laid-back professor. He doesn’t mind what his students were up to as long as they were actually learning. He only ever intervenes when he notices that his students weren't doing well on his quizzes. But right now, that wasn’t the case when he finds himself talking to Baekhyun. Unprofessional as it may be, he wanted to know what’s happening between you and Baekhyun. Were you two in a relationship already? Was he wrong for taking a liking to you? Were you cheating on Baekhyun with him? Does Baekhyun know what happened between the two of you? There were so many questions he wanted to ask but he doesn’t know how to do so, especially not to Baekhyun. Baekhyun wasn’t his friend, you are. It would have been easier if it was you who he was standing in front of.

He should’ve just held back the words. He should’ve just waited until he saw you so he could talk to you instead. But he was very curious, he couldn’t think straight! He was slightly panicking inside for being so brazen but he kept the cool exterior.

Mr. Kim wasn’t expecting to see Baekhyun nod to him. “I’m actually free today.” Baekhyun says. Mr. Kim thought that he’d be able to get at least three hours to be able to think of a plan to subtly ask about the two of you. Now he had to think fast.

“Well then Mr. Byun, please follow me to my office.” He says.

He leads the younger male into his office. Baekhyun doesn’t seem to be as tense as him. When they arrive at his office, he motions Baekhyun to sit.

“So Mr. Byun I see that you’ve become distracted in class lately.” Mr. Kim starts to say. Quite frankly, it wasn’t what he really wanted to say, but he thought it would be weird he went directly to the point. He wasn’t sure how Baekhyun would react so he was being a little cautious.

Baekhyun shrugs nonchalantly. Wow, he doesn’t really seem to care, Mr. Kim thought. It was annoying for him to see a student act so indifferent. He was a professor after all and he deserves to be heard and respected.

“Mr. Kim, just get to the point, I know you don’t care about my performance in class,” Baekhyun says with a slight annoyance in his tone. Baekhyun was being rude and he knows it, but he was really not in the mood for beating around the bush. He wasn’t in the mood to talk to Mr. Kim at all. He was very much pissed to know that he was the person who dared touch you when he basically marked you as his.

Mr. Kim was taken aback with the tone Baekhyun used. He felt offended for the lack of respect. He gives the younger male a warning look, a sign that he shouldn’t test his patience. Baekhyun just stares at him, challenging him.

When Mr. Kim doesn’t respond, Baekhyun says, “I know about you and Y/N.”

Mr. Kim raises his brow. He knows you well enough that you’re only comfortable with telling these kinds of things to people who you truly trusted. The fact that Baekhyun knew meant that you’ve grown close to the younger male. Mr. Kim leans back to his chair and crosses his arms, “What about us?”

Baekhyun gives him an incredulous look. “You touched her and kissed her. God knows what else you’ve done!” He was so mad.

“Didn’t you do that to her too?” He says with a glare.

Baekhyun was caught off guard by Mr. Kim’s statement. Mr. Kim knew something happened between the two of you and he still touched you and kissed you! You were his and like he told you, he doesn’t like to share. He was furious at the older man. Right now all he wanted to do was to punch Mr. Kim in the face, but he refrains from doing so. He tries to compose himself and smirks, “Oh but we did more than that.”

Mr. Kim clenches his jaw in annoyance. Baekhyun tugs the collar of his shirt to reveal more of the hickeys you gave him. Mr. Kim’s eyes widened at the sight, he wasn’t able to notice the hickeys at first because he was too busy thinking of what to say to Baekhyun. The sight pisses of Mr. Kim. He scoffs,”Should I care? Even if you did have sex with her, I don’t think it counts so much. After all, she allowed me to touch her despite having slept with you.”

Baekhyun felt like he was slapped on the face. What Mr. Kim was true. He wasn’t anything to you aside from the man who you had slept with, twice. “As if you aren’t in the same disposition as me.” Baekhyun snaps.

“Oh but I’m not the same as you.” Mr. Kim smirks. “We’ve known each other for quite a while now. I was her friend even before I became her professor. Even her parents adore me. She won’t cut ties with me easily.”

Well shit.

“Just a tip, Baekhyun,” Mr. Kim says his name mockingly, “She almost never dates. You see, she prioritizes her studies over everything else. She gets easily distracted too, so she avoids distractions as much as possible. And if you’ve been observing her for the past few days, you’d know that you are a distraction. Maybe you should just step down and save yourself the trouble.”

To Baekhyun, giving up is never an option. Baekhyun is a gamer after all. The thing about gamers is that they’re very competitive and passionate. He naturally loves to win. This time it was you who he wants to win over.

The past few days of you avoiding him lead him to realize that he does feel something about you. And because of this realization, he’s not going to step down, even if it’s Mr. Kim who’s supposed to be his opponent. He hates losing. And he would definitely hate himself if he lost you.

Without a word, Baekhyun stands up and leaves Mr. Kim’s office. He’s furious. He has to find a way to make you his, before Mr. Kim actually makes a move.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

You enter the classroom with your head down low to hide your red face. Baekhyun was driving you crazy. When you looked up from the floor, you saw your friends were already seated by your usual place. All your friends were looking at you already.

Before you can even take your seat, Mina says, “So... I think it’s time to tell them what happened to you last week.”

You know immediately what she was thinking about when she raises her eyebrows up and down. “Do I really have to?” You whine.

Mina doesn’t answer you, she turns to the rest of your friends with a smile instead and she announces, “She met this extremely good looking guy!!!!”

“How good looking?” Joohyun asks, leaning forward.

“Like a god! He’s tall and handsome. A gentleman too.” Mina says dreamily.

You roll your eyes, “Mina, I think you’re exaggerating.”

“What’s his name? Maybe I can find him.” Joohyun says. You don’t doubt her abilities, she does have a lot of connections.

“Uh… I think you will definitely find him because you have so many friends.” You pause, thinking of whether or not to tell her. You eye her warily, but she looks so interested, you didn’t want to dampen her mood so you say, “His name is Sehun.”

“Sehun as in Oh Sehun? The one in Performing Arts?!” Joohyun exclaims.

You were shocked she knew him personally. You thought it would take at least a day for her to find out about him through her other friends. “You know him?”

“Yes,” she then lowers her voice and glances at some person in the front row, “he’s Jongin’s best friend.”

You snap your head towards Jongin, it was a good thing he was taking a nap so he doesn’t know about the commotion. “What the fuck?”

“So are you dating him?” Seulgi pipes in.

You slightly cringe, remembering how annoying he actually was when sober, “Of course not!”

“Whose shirt are you wearing then if it wasn’t from him?”

You were caught off guard by the question, momentarily forgetting that you’re actually wearing Baekhyun’s shirt. “This is Baekhyun’s shirt.” You press your mouth in a thin line

Your friends squealed. “Oh my god! Are you two dating now?” You didn’t know who asked because they reacted so loudly you had to cover your ears.

“No, no. Nothing like that. We -- uh, haven’t talked about it yet.”

Your friends’ eyes soften. “Well, you know we like him. For you. So don’t be too afraid to jump in Y/N. It’s been so long since you and Kyungsoo broke up, maybe you should give him a chance.” Mina says.

You frown, “It’s complicated,” you pause while thinking about Junmyeon, “I don’t even know if he likes me that way.”

Seulgi rolls her eyes, “It’s quite obvious he has a crush on you! When you were avoiding him, he always had this longing look when he saw you in the hallway. Not to mention --”

You cut her off before she could say anything else. You didn’t want to get your hopes up, “Besides, I have to study well, especially since I have to beat Jongin.”

Your friends laugh at your reasoning. They were aware you thought of Jongin as a competitor ever since he was dared to beat the top student in the class, who was unfortunately you. It was supposed to be for a quiz only, but when Jongin lost to you, he didn’t give up. So he challenged you to the next quiz which led to another and another. There was an unspoken agreement that this “game” would continue until the end of the semester, or at least if someone concedes. It came to a point where your classmates took bets on who’s going to score higher. Even your professors were aware of the game you both played, but they didn’t say anything about it seeing that somehow the rest of the class got motivated to study for the quizzes and examinations because of the competition. Then by the end of the semester, your classmates tallied your quizzes and examinations and well, Jongin scored higher than you by two points. TWO points! It frustrated you. But it was fun competing with him like that since you got more focused and driven. This time you weren’t going to lose to him. You weren’t going to let anything or anyone distract you.

[zodiyack]

Happy New Years, Mr. Shelby

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x pregnant!reader

Warnings: Swearing, fluff, alcohol

Note: HAPPY NEW YEARS! So 1. I’m doing a New Years special for some characters. I know I’ll be doing Billy Hargrove as well, but I’m still deciding. Happy New Years Tumblr!! And 2. Tommy is an honest mood in this gif

ALSO DISCLAIMER: I don’t know if New Years was celebrated back then, but I know New Years Eve was celebrated around 1905

masterlist | Peaky Blinders Masterlist

November 1st, 1919

Y/n pushed through the halls of her husband’s home, desperate to find him. It was exciting. Halloween was over and Y/n was ready for Christmas. Tommy knew it and to be honest.. he was dreading it. Y/n always set up lights and decorations around the house, sometimes even decorating Tommy’s office. He had only seen it once, and right after that “once”, he told her to never do it again.

Some part of him found it cute and adorable, but the other found it worrying and annoying. She was always stressing herself trying to make everything perfect. Tommy admired her dedication, but he loathed her stressing herself. It didn’t have to do anything with her being a bad person or anything... it mainly had to do with Tommy’s soft spot for her.

Seeing her stress was like seeing her in pain. It caused him to feel the same way. And Tommy, did not like being stressed. Nor did he like his wife being stressed. As they say, “happy wife, happy life.”

“Tommy?” Speak of the fucking devil. “Tommy, I need help, I can’t reach where I need to and everyone is already busy.”

He sighed, putting down his pen. How did he know she would need assistance? “Coming dear.” He stood up from his desk and walked out to where his wife was calling. She had one foot on the wall, holding the lights in place, and her hands were attempting to reach the higher part of the wall. “Well, would you look at that.”

“Oh shut up and help me.”

Teasing his wife was one of his favorite things. Especially when she asked for his help on something she knew he didn’t like. Tommy grabbed the lights from her hands and hooked them around the nail. He did the same with the ones under her foot, allowing her to stand on both feet again.

“Don’t these go on the tree and not the wall?”

“Thomas Shelby- I wanted to do something different this year.” She adjusted his white button up shirt, stopping and looking up at him. “Besides, you know you love me, no matter how weird I am.” Tommy let out a small smile and Y/n pulled him down for a kiss using his collar.

The kiss got pretty heated, but as they were in the hallway; anyone could walk by. It didn’t get to any inappropriate ways of “heated”, it just got passionate. The lovers were too caught up in the kiss due to how long they spent away from each other, that they didn’t notice Polly going to check on Y/n.

When Pol approached them, Y/n let out a nervous laugh and separated herself from her husband. “Well, Mr. Shelby, I wish you luck on your work. Thank you for helping me.”

“Anytime, Mrs. Shelby. If you need any more help, you know where to find me.”

December 25th, 1919

“Look Ada!” Y/n was sitting on Tommy’s lap, squealing over the gift her husband had bought her. She showed Ada the necklace that had Tommy’s initials engraved into it. Then she lifted another necklace that had her initials. When Tommy gave them to her, he said that he would wear the one with her name and she would wear the one with his so that they would always be together.

“Ah how sweet! When’re you gonna get her something that isn’t showing how possessive you are, eh?”

“Ey, fuck off Ada.”

Y/n and the other Shelbys broke into laughter while Tommy glared at his sister. The insults and fights were something Y/n was used to, or rather, something she found hilarious.

“Tom, she didn’t mean it love. Although, I see her point.” His glare was now turned to his wife. “I’m kidding!” To prove her point, she pressed a sweet kiss against his soft lips. “Merry Christmas, Tommy Shelby.”

The kiss was returned, “Merry Christmas, Y/n Shelby. And we can’t forget you, little Shelby.”

December 31st, 1919

Y/n sat calmly by the fire, her hands resting on her slightly swollen belly. It was peaceful..until the Shelbys arrived. First it was John, ranting about how lucky they were, then it was Arthur, cheering with joy. Finn followed behind Arthur, giggling happily about something Y/n didn’t know of. And finally, a grumpy looking Thomas trudged in behind his pack.

His wife let out a hearty chuckle upon seeing his misery. “What happened to you, Mr. Grumpy pants?”

“One,” Tommy grabbed a glass and poured himself some whiskey. “Don’t call me that. And two,” He downed it and poured another. “We got stuff for New Years for free.”

“Alright... why are you so upset then?”

“Because. The stupid old fart running the place decided it would be great to comment about you.”

“And?”

“No one talks about you.”

Arthur chuckled and sat next to Tommy, pouring himself a drink as well. “Tom here is just being over dramatic now that he’s got a baby on the way.”

“Aww Tommy!”

Her husband rolled his eyes and continued drinking his alcohol. Of course he’d be protective and easy to upset. It was his wife and his child now. He wouldn’t even allow his wife near drinks or cigarettes for how much he feared it would affect the child.

“Whatever. How are you two doing, Y/n?”

He did occasionally ask how the baby was doing. Yes, he knew Y/n couldn’t actually tell how the baby was feeling, but he did it anyways for whatever reason was going through his head.

“We’re doing great, now that you’re home, daddy.” She stood up, walking over to Tommy and Arthur. “And you too, uncle.”

“Well, mummy, I’m great now that I’m home too.” Tommy set his hand on his wife’s stomach. This was also something he did. Usually, when he first comes home, he’d check on his wife, then his child. “I bet you’re gonna be a boy.”

“I bet she’s a girl.” Arthur piped in finally.

“How much do you wanna bet?”

“Boys you’re not seriously gonna bet on what gender my child is, are you?”

The brothers glanced up at Y/n. “Yes.” they said at the same time.

Y/n moved Thomas’ hand off her stomach and walked away, muttering about how childish they could be.

. . .

“Pol! It’s almost midnight! Get Ada and the boys!”

If it was not obvious, Y/n was in a rush. It would be 1920 in just a few minutes. She kept checking the pocket watch Tommy had gifted her, excited for the new year. The rest of her family entered, Thomas smiling at his wife’s amusement.

He did find it silly, the reason she was happy, but he loved her and would do anything for her. If she was happy, he was happy. Only 5 minutes until the new year. Tommy put his arms around his wife’s waist, her arms finding their way around his neck.

“Wait don’t kiss me until midnight.”

“Really? That tradition can’t prevent me from kissing my wife.”

“But your wife can prevent you from kissing your wife.”

And right she was. They stood in that position, the only movements made were turning their heads to talk to other people. Finally, John looked down at his pocket watch announced the countdown.

“5. 4. 3. 2-”

January 1st, 1920

“Happy new years!” Everyone cheered. Well, everyone except Y/n and Tommy, who now pressed their lips together. When Y/n pulled away, she smiled at Tommy, grabbing his chin and brushing his cheek with her thumb.

“Happy New Years, Mr. Shelby.”

“And Happy New Years to you Mrs. Shelby. I love you and our little one greatly.”

“We love you too. Now, everyone get to bed, we have a busy day ahead of us!”

[itwillbeall-dwight]

trials in error

danny "jed olsen" johnson | the ghost face/felix richter; fluff and angst; canon-typical violence; enemies to fwb to lovers to enemies lmao; 5677 words

a/n: did i finish two fics in the same day? yes i did. i’ve had this done since one in the morning but didn’t want to post it them bc no one would see it by the time it was flushed out of the tag bc tumblr hates fic writers for real actually.

my friend booker is to blame for this. they mentioned this pair to me offhandedly but then i turned around and made this, and basically learned 2 things. 1) writing danny is fun, and 2) i have. a lot of feelings. about them.

while i have a couple of long pieces to finish, requests are still open, so if you liked this and would like smthn written, feel free to shoot me an ask!

likes < reblogs, any comments in the tags are appreciated

ao3 mirror in the reblogs!

Preview: “Tell you what.” He folded his arms over the top of the generator, looking the man in the face as he rested the side of his head against his forearm. “You’re still a noob, and I can’t be having anything fun with that. I’ll give you, hm… 10 seconds to run and hide, phone a friend, you know… not die, but after that, you’re all mine. Sound good?” The blonde remained silent, blinking at him in bewilderment. That was as good of an answer as any. “Alright. 10-” “Ah, wait, but what about-” “-9-” He didn’t say anything after that, dropping the wires in his hands and taking off into a sprint, stumbling as he stood to his full height - and oh boy, was he a tall guy - and turned a corner of old cars. Danny chuckled, standing up to rest his ass against the side of the gen, flipping his knife in his hand as he kept counting down. “8… 7… 6-5-4-3-2-1- ok, here we go.”

Another day, another trial. As the fog cleared from his vision, the Ghostface flipped his small knife in his hand, feeling the silent breeze whistle through the tendrils on his uniform. The Autohaven Wreckers was as sorry of a sight as it always was, but one that he’d grown quite accustomed to use as his playground. From the sight of the old garage, he could almost pick out memories of all the times he’d scared the pants off of the poor survivors, which he took more than enough pleasure in doing. Danny looked around, still absently flipping his knife in his hand as he formulated a plan, taking a brief moment to watch the ever-present moonlight glint off of the freshly cleaned blade before he looked up once more, a slow grin forming behind the mask as the game began.

 Poor Meg thought he was stupid, thinking she’d lost him at a simple enough loop around a pile of tires, all up until he pulled her off of her generator with a cackle (“screw you, creep” she said as she slammed her fists into the back of his shoulder - changed her tune real quick after he slid a hook into hers). Nea didn’t hesitate in giving him the runaround, powering a generator in his face and slamming a locker door into him for good measure. Danny knew the girl would throw a palette at him if she had the chance - she was the most fun to play with. But he soon lost her, so soon after catching her, but it was that detective asshole that ruined their fun, as he’d shone a damn flashlight in his eyes while he had Nea on his shoulder, finally, enough for her to wiggle free and run off again. And by the time his vision had cleared, the both of them had gone. Danny growled - as much as he enjoyed fun, it was only when he was winning was it any good.

 It was while he was stalking around the battered old killer shack looking for the bastard that he saw him for the first time. Blonde hair, broad shoulders, and a fancy suit that just screamed rich, with a touch of “please tear me off or splatter me in blood, both sound great”. A man he didn’t recognize, sat on a generator, eyes darting around as he worked the best he could with shaking hands, clearly on edge about being left on his own to work. Whatever annoyance he had in him melted like hot wax, as he approached, slowly, knowing this guy would be a wonderful victim to mess with. The killer’s fingers curled around the edge of the wall as he watched the man, the way he swallowed and sighed, muttering to himself in reassurance in a tongue that sounded familiar to him, too quiet to tell. The generator got louder and louder, its mechanisms and inner parts in tune as the man worked his magic, almost letting himself smile in triumph as he grabbed another wire.

“Hey there, handsome.”

A voice from behind his neck, raspy and deep, caused him to jump, a spark sending the generator into smoke as he turned, face going white as he pushed his back against the wall.

Oh, he was right. He was going to be fun, all right. Danny chuckled. “Oh, sorry. Did I scare you? Tend to do that. It’s in my… nature.”

The man swallowed, glancing around for any kind of help, seeming to find none as his attention turned back to the killed, speaking in a low, rich voice, though it shook from fear. “Don’t you have… things, to be stabbing?”

“Why, is that an invitation?” He laughed again, leaning up against the generator and crossing one leg over the other. “Nah, I’m just kiddin’. Ain’t it enough to get to know the new neighbours? Haven’t seen you around before, pretty boy. They smuggled you in, huh?”

“I… suppose.”

He hummed, tapping the blade of his knife against the metal of his knife, the clanging making the survivor jump. Oh, bless him - well and truly, it was a mistake for him to get caught up here… but a happy mistake, to be sure. “Got a name?”

“Huh?”

“Like I said, I like to know the neighbours, ya know… real close and personal. A preference. Bit of normalcy. Soooo…”

He remained silent. So he was a little bit smarter than what he’d look like, from the way he was shaking in his rich white boots. Impressive.

“Tell you what.” He folded his arms over the top of the generator, looking the man in the face as he rested the side of his head against his forearm. “You’re still a noob, and I can’t be having anything fun with that. I’ll give you, hm… 10 seconds to run and hide, phone a friend, you know… not die, but after that, you’re all mine. Sound good?”

The blonde remained silent, blinking at him in bewilderment. That was as good of an answer as any. 

“Alright. 10-”

“Ah, wait, but what about-”

“-9-”

He didn’t say anything after that, dropping the wires in his hands and taking off into a sprint, stumbling as he stood to his full height - and oh boy, was he a tall guy - and turned a corner of old cars.

Danny chuckled, standing up to rest his ass against the side of the gen, flipping his knife in his hand as he kept counting down. “8… 7… 6-5-4-3-2-1- ok, here we go.”

 Curious as it was, he lost the blonde beauty soon after he let him go, instead finding Meg oddly open about where she was, spriting right into his vision. Not that he was complaining; a game was a game, and if the runner decided that she wanted to play tag, then who was he to turn her down? Especially when she was so easy to catch… though as soon as she was hooked, flashlight clicking and Swedish profanities in his ear was enough to make him chase after Nea rather than go after his original chase once again… they were painting a target on their back, and for what? To save the new guy’s skin? He wasn’t an idiot. Just surprised that some of them had the compassion.

 Well, they managed to get another generator done, but the two girls were dead, and a soon injured Tapp was surely soon to follow them. A means to an end, it seemed, as his knife plunged into the detective’s side and sent him crashing into the dirt with a grunt of pain, rolling over onto his back with one eye open, the other wincing in pain, the shadow of the killer cast over him in the moonlight as he wiped his blade.

“OK, Detective, we’ll make this real nice and simple.” He crouched down next to the survivor, taking note of how the blood pooled around him as he laid on his back, staring up at him. “Tell me where your new friend is hiding, and I’ll let you live.”

Silence.

“C’mon, it’s not that hard of a choice to make. I’ve heard getting sacrificed is long and painful, like your insides are getting ripped at over and over again until, poof, you’re back again, at that cozy little campfire, only a little bit more traumatised to show for it. Now, you want that to happen to only one of you, or both of you, hm?”

Tapp looked away, seeming to ponder the possibility.

“Self-preservation instincts, Detective. I know you have them.” He tapped his knife into the dirt. Humans were fickle beings, easily swayed when their life was on the line.

The detective sighed, chest shaking from the strain. “Fine. I know where he’s hiding. But I can’t… breathe right, with a knife in my chest, so come a little closer.”

Danny blinked, but surely he didn’t have any more tricks up his sleeve, so he did as he was told, for once in his life, letting his mask get inches away. “Yes?”

A moment of silence, before there was a whisper in reply, backed by the assurance of an idiot who knew he was going to die regardless, as he spat blood pooling in his mouth onto the mask of the ghost almost pressed against his own. “Go fuck yourself.”

He was almost stunned at the bravado, leaning away with a chuckle, though he gritted his teeth through it. “Oh, you’re a funny man. Absolutely hilarious, you know that?” But still, that was as good of an affirmation of choice as he was going to get from someone so stubborn, so Danny grabbed him by the front of his vest and hoisted him up onto his shoulder.

 The screaming echoed as the heavens opened up, the Entity surely pleased with her feast for the evening, but he still wasn’t done… oh no, far from it. There was still one more handsome devil to track down. Danny rolled his neck, grinning at the gentle cracks from the strain, strolling more than hunting, at this point, for the well-kept survivor he didn’t know the name of, but was practically dying to know. He almost skipped up the crane, looking out of the window as Rapunzel did out of her tower window, before chuckling to himself and hoisting himself out. Danny tapped his blade against his hand, almost going to begin whistling if not for the angelic cries coming from the hill just close by. A grin overtook him, as he chased the calls of cherubs from the ground below.

 He slammed that hatch shut with a satisfied sigh, throwing his knife between his hands as he looked around and arched his neck for the doors. Normally the whelps would just give up at this point, but the guy was new, and probably didn’t know what was best for him. Still, the doors were easily within view, so if he made it out of this alive… well, he wouldn’t, so no promise needed to be made. The killer chuckled to himself, finally settling on wrapping his fingers around the handle of his blade, curling one by one, slowly and deliberately for no one in particular, before setting off to take part in the real game that had begun.

 He had no idea how he did it. Perhaps Danny had become too complacent in his work. But that handsome devil slipped past him more than once, enough for him to open up a gate and tiptoe his nice ass into certain safety. The survivor stared at him from inside the gate as he walked past in bewilderment, shaking like a dog in the rain that was just waiting to be gutted, battered old medkit in hand. And while he was stunned, the man swallowed, nodded, and left the trial head high, descending back into the fog as it began to consume the old gas station, leaving Danny to stare into darkness, barely blinking.

 Well, that was interesting, wasn’t it?

—

His name was Felix, he’d learned from the pig in the meat plant, having overheard it while she watched him blow the generator out by accident and got cursed out by the familiar bane-of-their-existence Swede. German, from the way he’d spoken to Danny by the generator in their first encounter, high up on the social ladder from the way he dressed (unless he’d gotten all dressed up just to see him? Funny, that would be, but very unlikely), shaken by the fog and with a disposition not unlike a lost dog. 

 And yet, despite his nerves and cluelessness to the fog, he always seemed to escape him. He didn’t know how he did it, but from finding hatch to evading the hooks, Felix somehow managed to keep him on his toes. Trials were somehow more exciting, knowing there was a challenge, and a chance to catch he who refused to be caught. Danny knew he was going to revel in the moment, when it eventually came - there was no way someone could be better than him, when he was so in his element.

So, after not seeing the man for the entire trial while hunting through the streets of Badham, catching him at the gate seemed like a dream come true. And he was none the wiser, as Danny quickly slammed his hand against the wall next to the lever, making him jump and freeze, pulling his hand away, two bright lights reflecting onto his face. “And so we meet again.”

“S-so we do.” He ran a hand through his hair before it found a place at the back of his neck, quietly taking a few steps back.

“Aht, aht. I wouldn’t run. I’ll just find you again anyways.”

He stopped. 

“...You know, I don’t quite know how you do it. It’s like you’re avoiding me on purpose.”

“That is… the point, is it not?”

“Oh, how rude- people come here to see me, surely. I’m a spectacle; call me a master at my craft.”

Felix chuckled - god, he chuckled, though it was riddled with nerves, but it most certainly happened, and sounded great - fiddling with the cufflinks on the sleeves of his suit jacket as his back straightened a little, as if flicking a switch to go from sorry sight to professional businessman. “Well, I… don’t suppose you’d be willing to show me why?”

He blinked. “Are you… flirting with me?”

“Am I?”

Danny wasn’t sure if the question was rhetorical or not, from the way he stood beside the lever at the gate, leaning a shoulder against the brick and folding his arms across his strong, broad chest (the way his shirt was unbuttoned just so was something Danny now noticed, and couldn’t stop noticing, barely tearing his eyes away to meet his gaze again) with an almost expectant look. “You’re... a weird one.”

“I… suppose so. Anyone normal would have ignored you and already run for their lives.”

The killer chuckled. “You’re not… entirely wrong. But I gotta say, I do like that. Among… other things.”

Though his eyes weren’t visible, it was as if the survivor knew exactly where he was looking, coughing and covering his mouth with the side of his fist. How cute was that?

He almost couldn’t contain himself. But he managed, somehow, not sure where this whole thing was going, but more than ready to go along for the ride. “Say… how far are you willing to ask that question, anyway? You really wanna know that bad, huh?”

Felix swallowed, closing his eyes for a moment before looking up again, with his piercing blue gaze, lips parting just so into a coy little smile. “Let’s find out, shall we?”

Danny had never thought a man of such sophistication was willing to whore himself out for freedom, but sure enough, he himself opened the gate to let the German go, almost sad to see him leave (though it wouldn’t be for long), but very much enjoying the view.

 He paused. He was supposed to catch him and kill him, wasn’t he? Danny frowned, somewhat troubled, but tried to justify it as returning to old habits in Roseville, as he left the gate, and waited for the fog to consume him again, taking a seat just outside the battered old preschool.

—

It was like the attraction of magnets with twice the force as soon as they saw each other, wasting no time as suddenly Felix’s back was slammed into a tree, a loose and cold gloved hand finding its way up his shirt, sending a shiver up his spine for another reason as he felt lips hit his, with a hunger and desperation he was not expecting but certainly didn’t mind reciprocating, as Danny soon found out. And he wasn’t complaining; he was damn good, for a man with the disposition of a 40-year-old virgin, moving his hands to Danny’s wrist and placing his hand on his waist, which again, he did not mind at all, while the other was still halfway up his shirt. Let the man take the lead, at least for now, because it’s the only chance he’ll get to.

 Danny chuckled as a hand moved to grab his ass - quite the eager beaver, wasn’t he? He was practically purring as he pulled away, the survivor trying to follow him before reeling back as he moved to kissing up the side of his neck, listening close to the adorable little whimpers that came out of him as he squirmed in his grip. The killer then went to move his hand out from under Felix’s shirt, finally, casually undoing the buttons of his waistcoat and shirt one by one, taking the time to walk down his chest with his fingers and feel the shaking breaths of anticipation under his fingertips. Oh, the things he wanted to do-

 Distant voices were enough to make the survivor crack open an eye, pausing before he began to push the killer’s head off of his neck.

“Hey, hey,” Danny didn’t appreciate the interruption, moving to look up as Felix looked around, like a startled animal, though he still purred in the crudest fashion. “C’mon, buddy, I was just getting started.”

“Quiet.” His voice was low and commanding, still shaking from adrenaline.

And for whatever reason, Danny complied.

He swallowed, listening to the silence of the wind in the barrens of the fog-covered forest and there was another distant call, which upon hearing he began trying to wiggle out of the killer’s grip. “Off.”

“Why?”

“They’re looking for me-”

“And you don’t wanna be seen with me?” He gave a mock gasp of offence, though the grin that was slowly growing larger still remained on his face.“Oh, honey-”

“That’s exactly it. Move, please.”

That was enough to make Danny chuckle, squeezing his hips that he still held, enough to make him yelp a little. “Still so polite. If you want me to do somethin’, hon, you gotta be a little more, ah... demanding, yeah?”

Felix glared. “Alright. Get off. Now.” His voice had an annoyed growl to it, though his voice still cracked a little out of embarrassment, as he pushed down on Danny’s arms to let himself go.

“There it is.” And so he moved, standing back and sliding his hands into the pockets of his cloak. He watched the architect fiddle with the buttons on his shirt to redo them again, rushing to do so and messing it up a few times, mumbling to himself. “Need help?”

He glared again. 

Danny laughed, observing how he looked like a kicked puppy as he went back to fiddling with his shirt, pulling down his own mask again to hide what little of his face he had revealed. “You know, I think you’d look much better with it off.”

“Shut up.”

“Oh, that’s not what you were saying with your eyes earlier-”

“You were a lot more tolerable when you were quiet.”

“‘Cos I never had a chance to speak, what, with you all over my mouth.” He shrugged as he spoke, as if it was a nonchalant fact, only smiling wider when he heard Felix try to stammer out a flustered reply, to no avail, choosing instead to simply huff and finish off the buttons on his shirt.

“Regardless, this affair is over.”

“Wait, hold on.”

“What?”

The killer moved his hands up to Felix’s neck, watching the man flinch and hold a breath with a soft chuckle, gently undoing a few of the top buttons that he’d redone. “You normally wear it like this.”

He gently touched at his collar, looking down at his fingers and then to the mask starring back at him. “And you’ve noticed?”

“Hard not to.” He shrugged, tugging at the shirt collar and going to fix up the waistcoat too before his hands were slapped away, which he held up in defence with a grin behind his mask. “So when are we doing this again, sunshine?”

The survivor moved away before he could’ve boxed in against the tree again, taking a few steps towards the direction of the campfire and the voices, though not too far as to disengage from the conversation, perhaps a little unsure how to. “You speak like this will be a regular affair.”

“Well, we had fun, ja?” 

“...Are you mocking me?”

“Not mocking, just… appreciating the culture.”

Felix started, smoothing down the arms of his suit jacket with a light scoff of disbelief. “Truly, you’re insufferable.”

“Can't say you didn’t enjoy yourself though, huh, mein Schatz?” He leaned his shoulder against the tree now, folding his arms across his chest, earning him a weak-hearted glare.

“Werde gefickt.”

“Gerne.”

Being outplayed in his own game of native tongues, somehow, Felix conceded, looking down at his cufflinks again. “You’re… not entirely wrong, so ...perhaps a name, so I can find you.”

“Oh, so now you want to know me? What happened to a one-time affair, sugar?” 

“When you’re so easy to please, I would be an idiot not to take advantage.”

Danny laughed, shrugging with no retort (though he was uncertain if hitting this pretty boy like a fish was just as good as getting in his pants… that much was yet to be determined). He soon trailed off, swallowing to himself, a lie escaping him as effortlessly as it had always done. “Jed Olsen.”

“Mr. Olsen…” Felix pondered for a moment. “...Ja, OK.”

—

So they’d been fooling around, yeah. Danny had always said he was willing to try it, should an idiot be brave enough, and if it was someone that wasn’t either Ace or David - he was a man with some standards, even with the blood on his hands - but never had he thought about it getting this far.

 The sun never rose or set, but people slept and woke as time passed, regardless of the light outside, and that was no exception here. If anything, it was the cold chill of Ormond that awoke him from sleep, though he’d grown complacent in it, realising the teens that called this shithole a home would probably evict him if he so much as dared to complain. Danny still grumbled, attempting to pull the scraps of the blanket over himself, but finding it unable to move. Turning over, he now heard the sound of gentle snoring, the body, next to him sometimes shuffling, but remained mostly motionless, aside from the movements of breathing from his chest. His latest fling, almost his newest obsession… god, he still looked perfect, even now, golden locks of hair falling out of form, the lighting of the shitty little cabin not enough to hide that perfect jawline tickled with stubble in all the right places, red marks down his neck and back from an encounter that had lead them right here, in the bed he was practically renting in the corner of the resort.

 They’d gotten a little adventurous, hadn't they? Banter in the trials was one thing, borderline voyeurism in the entity’s forest was another, but here? Letting himself be taken back to the realms to stay, where killers were not technically bound by rules of obedience, with Danny of all killers, a man who loved to bend the rules? Felix Richter was a smart man, that much he knew, but by god was he stupid. Maybe he thought there was a good man still in there, in the Ghostface. Well, that was his mistake; it was almost cute for him to still hold out hope though, regardless of how much disappointment was awaiting him down the road. Danny gently ran fingertips along the sleeping man’s arm, feeling the soft skin underneath his touch, smiling despite himself, only pausing at the gentle stirring he caused, practically freezing with his hand in the air as the architect moved, and slowly opened his eyes, sleepily smiling.

“Good morning.”

“...Hi,” he released a breath he didn’t know he was holding, letting his hand fall into the space between them. “Hardly mornin’, but sure.”

“Close enough.”

“Sure.”

There was a soft, amused hum from the other man, adjusting his position a little to better face him, hair falling out of place just so, like some disheveled Ken doll. “I would ask if you slept well, but-”

“Oh, very well, thanks to you. Really outdid yourself this time; I gotta say, that was almost the most fun I’ve had since I got here… or maybe even before-”

A light shove to his chest made him stop and laugh a little, feeling the slight coldness of metal from a family ring against one pec, and almost wanting the light touch of his hand to remain there, before it hit the mattress with a thump, dangerously close to Danny’s. “You’re a funny one, Mr. Olsen.”

He sat up, resting an elbow on the stained old pillow and holding his cheek with the corresponding hand, raising an eyebrow. “Thought you liked me better when I was quieter?”

Felix stared at him with those perfect eyes of his, and he laughed - like audible silk it was, smooth and defined, with a sleepy smile and everything - adjusting himself with a hand under his pillow. “Sometimes. Sometimes I like to hear you.”

“Glad to hear it. I’ve been told it’s my best quality.”

“Hmm. Is it how you make jokes to deflect, or how you talk out of your ass?”

“...Well, hey now, Princess, ouch-”

As he tried to defend himself, the survivor smirked, somehow braver here than anywhere else (and it wasn’t his persona), quipping back to match him, and as he was talking, Danny paused, watching the way his eyes diverted and how his mouth moved, how he talked with his body and the way he smiled and waiting for a small hum in response, and how Danny liked the way his name sounded coming from his mouth, even if it wasn’t entirely the true one. Almost made him wonder what the real thing would sound like… no, that was too much, right? Couldn’t get attached. He wasn’t attached, was he?

 Couldn’t hurt to wait a little more to think on that, before escorting this pretty little thing back to the campfire.

—

So he was thinking about Felix a lot more than was normal for an obsession of his. What started off as a vengeful curiosity had morphed into something else, something so ugly yet so beautiful, foreign to Danny in recent years, or perhaps his entire life. Was this how high school girls felt, chasing after the jocks for a chance to get them off, and maybe start a high school whirlwind romance? Well, he certainly wasn’t a prepubescent cheerleader, but the survivor that had caught his attention seemed just like the squeaky clean Prince Charming that girls drooled over.

 And he couldn’t have that. Not at all.

 The fog cleared out of his vision slowly, and he opened his eyes, almost rolling them as the field of corn came into view. Coldwind - the rotten fields, it looked like, from the wide expanse of produce hiding his vision. Despite the cards not being in his favour, a game could still be played here, if he played his hand, carefully. And he was planning to. He’d let himself get distracted. But not again.

 Getting back into the routine of the hunt was like sliding into a comfortable sweater, blood shedding with no tear from him. Laurie was always a thrilling chase, her determination being almost cute. Quentin was similar, though the boy with insomnia had a lot less appeal than the virgin final girl, to be sure. David, of course, was David - loud, frustrating to deal with, and incredibly annoying. And… Felix. He knew how he felt about Felix already.

 As well as he tried to play it, this time, the game was not in his favour, and quite quickly generators across the field were powered, with only a few hooks under his belt. Getting to a gate, it was already beginning to open, three of them already filing into the funnel of the exit. But Felix, he was lagging behind, and without thinking, Danny took a swipe...

 ...No one escaped death. Not even the man he may have fallen for.

 As he wiped the blood from his blade with a gloved hand closed around it, he watched the architect grasp at his side and stumble, leaning a shoulder up against a wooden wall for support.

“Go.” He called to the woman in the blue shirt, standing at the gate.

“Felix, we can’t-”

“I said go, Laurie!”

She gritted her teeth and went to ignore him, running back into the cornfield, but a grip and pull on her arm from David stopped her, as much as she tried to fight against it. Quentin was the last to leave, watching the two of them for a moment before he swallowed, and chased after them, a medkit in hand.

 “Alone time, eh? Hon, we’re on a time limit here-”

“Just get it done.”

Danny tried to laugh. But it didn’t… feel right, somehow, even if it was the same as it always had been. As Felix leaned against a wall to support himself and slid down, knees buckling underneath him, he crouched down to meet him. “I dunno… no fun when they don’t squirm, you know?”

“...Jed-”

“Danny.”

He paused. “What?”

“It’s Danny Johnson. My name, I mean. I lied, when we first met. ...Surprise!” Knife still gripped, he tried to do a small jazz hands movement, though it seemed a fall flat. Only hurt more with what came next.

“...I figured as much.”

“Oh yeah? And why’d you set yourself up for failure like that, sunshine?”

“Because… I don’t know. I thought you were like me.”

The killer deflated a little, tilting his head to one side.

“I… maybe, I thought you were playing something up. I always felt… something else, there. Maybe something even you didn’t know about. Under all that ego, Mr Ol- ...Mr. Johnson, there was a man who cared, once.”

He tapped the blade of his knife against the floor. “...Maybe. I dunno.”

“Do you think he’s still in there?”

Danny didn’t reply right away, dragging his blade through the dirt by his feet absentmindedly. He didn’t entirely know, at this point. Normally this would have been the end of their little game - it was over, he had caught him and won - but something was stopping him. The ground shook, reminding him of that first moment where this fascination had started to plague him. “...You’ve done something to me, Felix.”

He hummed, trying to shift where he sat, holding his side where the blood had stained his very nice suit. “Have I?”

“Must have done. Because this isn’t as fun as I thought it would be.”

“That’s the reality of most things, I’m afraid.”

“I hate it.”

The survivor almost laughed, though it was pained and strained, clearly struggling… but was the sliver of it that made it, that small smile on his stupid, perfect face - that was enough, it seemed, to make Danny smile too.

He pulled up his mask entirely, tugging down his hood and fixing his hair with a quick ruffle, feeling the cloth tendrils on his sleeves whip behind him from the movement. The killer took a second to stare at Felix in front of him, before he moved his hand up to his face, watching him flinch. “Hey- relax, baby, I’m not gonna hurt you yet.”

“Yet.”

Danny hummed, cupping his face and wiping away the blood starting to dribble out of his mouth with a finger. “There. You’re a messy little boy, aint’cha?”

A cough, more blood involuntarily spilling out from his mouth now, this time splashing onto his shirt and the front of Danny’s suit. “My apologies. I’ll make sure to bleed less next time you stab me.”

“‘Ppreciate it, babes.”

Though he thought the man would shove him away, he instead seemed to lean into the touch, moving a hand to hold onto Danny’s wrist. “You still smell like cheap cologne.”

“It’s the only thing they sent me here with. ‘Sides, your scent goes away after a while.”

“Gross.”

“The one and only.”

And despite his small smile, of both annoyance and amusement, the third overwhelming emotion behind his eyes was that of sadness. The ground shook around them, but they didn’t seem to care, not until Danny moved his hand away and stood to his feet again, grabbing his knife from the floor and wiping the dirt off of the blade on his thigh.

 “Is this it, then?”

“‘Fraid so.”

“...It was fun.”

“Oh yes, it was.” He looked down at his knife, pressing the tip of the blade against his finger and twisting it, the moonlight and bleeding of the ground catching the light of the metal. “...For what it’s worth? You were close.”

“Close to what?”

“Makin’ me a person. Ya know, not a prick, like… an actual loser, with empathy. Almost had me for a sec, hot stuff.”

“Is that why you’re stopping this? Are you scared?”

Danny swallowed down a reply. He took a moment to look down at Felix, who’s eyes had followed him the entire time, making a small ‘call me’ sign with his free hand and forcing a smirk. “If you ever decide you wanna make a mistake again, you’ll know where to find me.”

“...Goodbye, Danny.”

He walked off into the corn, not wanting to see the way those blue eyes stared at him anymore, only stopping at the pained screaming that followed. The shaking of the ground had stopped now. She had come to feast.

 As he stood in the middle of cornfield, he looked up at the sky of the farm, overcast and grey, tendrils of the Entity reaching down to claim her prize, and fog swirling around him to take him back, to lay in wait, until the next time.

 He was right. His name did sound nice coming out of Felix’s mouth. 

[epicfangirl01]

Castaways- Mammon x GN! Reader

Chapter 2

"I see you're neglecting your studies, Y/N. What business do you have with Lord Diavolo?"

You freeze in surprise as Lucifer stands before you, arms crossed and his face covered in disappointment.

"Lucifer! Sorry about that. I actually have a pass from study hall. I wanted to ask Lord Diavolo if I could go back to the human realm for the weekend. I've been wanting to spend a few days back home." The eldest brother glances into your eyes, searching, before sighing.

"Very well. We were looking forward to spending the holiday with you, but I suppose we can make up for it next weekend. If your business is finished, head back to class. Your studies are very important."

You nod and say goodbye before going back to class. Everything is finally in place, and you smile to yourself. Two days from now, you and Mammon will be sitting on the beach together, laying in each other's arms. You close your eyes and sigh, feeling at peace. This is going to be the best weekend of your lives.

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

The next morning, you take your seat next to Mammon and Lucifer for breakfast. You fill your plate with enough food, making sure to eat quickly before Beel eats it for you. Lucifer cuts his coral snake sausage in half, and looks up at you.

"So, Y/N, what are you planning to do in the human realm this weekend?" Everyone stops suddenly, looking at you in shock.

"What?!? I want to go to the human world! They're supposed to have a Ruri-chan festival this Sunday! It's not fair" Leviathan whined.

"Yeah! What are ya thinking? Stupid human. Don't ya know that we had a buncha stuff planned this weekend? At least take me with ya. I can't trust you to keep yourself out of trouble," Mammon argued. You smile at the irony, and your guardian demon blushes instantly.

"Oh please," Asmo scoffed. "We all know you just want time alone with Y/N. I don't even why you're still fighting for attention. Y/N obviously doesn't like you. It's pathetic, honestly."

Frustration builds inside of you as Asmodeus insults your boyfriend, but instead of causing suspicion, you bite your tongue. Mammon, however, fights back as usual. Your hand gently laces with his under the table, reassuring him, while the brothers quickly get bored of the teasing.

"Hurry up and finish your breakfast. Class is going to start in 30 minutes," Lucifer sighs, standing up. The rest of you quickly finish your meal before splitting up for class. Mammon is about to walk out the door, when you speak up.

"Hey, Mammon, I need to talk to you for a minute. Do you mind?"

The demon grins and waits behind until the two of you are alone. The moment the door thuds shut, Mammon wraps his arms around your waist, pinning you to the wall. You help in shock, until Mammon's lips meet yours.

"Mmmm. I missed you so much, Silver..." His deep, sultry voice sends a chill down your spine, and you wrap your arms around his shoulders to stabilize yourself.

"I missed you too, Baby. I'm sorry to disappoint you, but I really did want to talk. I wanted to let you know that the student council meeting will be 30 minutes late today, so maybe when we're finished, I can spend some time in your room. I have a surprise for you, but you're going to have to trust me and be patient, okay?" The demon grins, his deep blue eyes flashing mischievously.

"Oh, alright.... Just as long as I have you to myself, ya hear?" He steals a quick kiss from you and chuckles. You laugh, touching your lips like Mammon, and you gently take his hand.

"Will you walk with me to school, Great Avatar of Greed?" Mammon smiles, and holds your hand shyly on the way to school. Once you see the academy, he pulls away. "I know, dear. We'll be able to be open soon, okay? We can tell everyone when we get back from break."

"Yeah. Then I'll have ya all to myself, and there's nothing my brothers can do about it. Heh. And everyone will know that you belong to Mammon." You sigh, looking forward to your plans, but for now it's time to say goodbye. "Well, I'll see you later, human. Don't get eaten, okay? I don't wanna save your ass all the time." You roll your eyes and head to class, looking forward to the meeting.

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

You arrive to the student council meeting early, and you immediately notice Diavolo smirking at you as he talks to Barbatos. You're so glad to have the demon prince as your wingman.

"Alright. It seems like Mammon is running a little late. For now, let's begin the meeting with the meeting minutes from last week." The meeting continues as scheduled, and you anxiously look at the clock on the wall. With every passing minute, Lucifer grows more and more agitated. Finally, as Diavolo delivers his final statements, the large oak doors open as Mammon strolls into the room.

"Hey! Starting without me?" The whole room whirls on him, and Lucifer snarls.

"MAMMON! " The second oldest yipes in surprise, confused by the angry glares from his brothers. Your heart sinks with guilt, but you know that this is the only way for the two of you to slip away undetected. "How DARE you disrespect Lord Diavolo and the Academy by arriving late to your duties?"

Mammon's eyes widen, and he looks around the room frantically. "What?!? But I thought the meeting was dela-"

"Well, you thought wrong," Lucifer snapped, "Honestly, I can't believe you think we would believe that." The eldest brother steps forward, but Diavolo stops him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"It's alright, Lucifer. I've got it from here. Well, Mammon, I suppose I should thank you for volunteering to spend your holiday weekend performing labor at the castle. I can already think of a list of tasks for you. In fact, Cerberus is in need of a bath. Why, you will have plenty of time to do that when you stay for the weekend!"

The room turns silent, and Mammon turns whiter than his hair. Before he can respond, Diavolo chuckles and continues.

"Wonderful! I look forward to you starting tomorrow morning. Well, this concludes this week's meeting. I hope you all have a good weekend. You're all dismissed, besides Mammon, of course."

The prince slams the gavel, and the brothers practically race out of the room. Lucifer huffs, and glares at Mammon. "I will see you in my study once you get home. Y/N, I expect you to escort my brother once you're finished here." With that, he turns on his heel, sighing as the door slams shut behind him. In an instant, Mammon turns on you.

"What the hell was that, Y/N?!?!" You told me the meeting was at 4! I... I trusted you..." Your heart shatters when you see Mammon fight back tears of betrayal, and you quickly take his hand and cup his cheek.

"No! You don't understand. You're not in trouble." Diavolo walks up to the two of you, placing a hand on Mammon's shoulder.

"That's right, Mammon. I told Y/N to lie to you. It was the only way to convince your brothers." The demon of greed looks at him in confusion, and you gently squeeze his hand, gaining his attention.

"Mammon, you and I are going on a beach vacation. Just the two of us."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hey, guys! Sorry for the long chapter. The first section with Lucifer was supposed to be in the first chapter, but Tumblr cut it off. I already have most of the next chapter written, so I might be able to post it tomorrow. If any of you want notifs on updates, feel free to ask to be added to the series taglist. For those of you who are new, welcome! The link to my masterlist is here, so feel free to get caught up on Castaways and more fics! I look forward to seeing you again soon!

Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three, Chapter Four (Smut w/o Plot), Chapter Five (Coming Soon!)

Taglist: @classictrash

[spidxysense]

Back to You | 12

Summary: He broke your heart, but you’d always love him. Two souls that not even the universe could tear apart, even if you wanted it to at times.

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader x Timothee Chalamet

A/N: THIS TOOK SO LOOOOOOOOOOOONG TO UPDLOAD!!!!!!!!!!! Ugh, I spent the past 2 days trying to upload this from my mobile data whih is honestly so slow when I’m on tumblr, luckily our internet got fixed today. Hope all of you are well during this time and stay indoors guys! Now that I’m just at home, I’ll be sure to write more. I just finished Never Have I Ever, and I loved the series soooooooooo much!!!! Do you guys have any suggestions of shows like that?? I know it’s a bit short but I plan on making the chapters shorter so it’s easier for me to finish a chapter, lol. THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR BEING SO PATIENT! and I just want to let you guys know that this isn’t the end of Back to You yet! It’s just the end of the Italy arc of it all. I love you guys! As always, let me now what you think ! <3<3<3

Word count: 1,915

Prologue | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12

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

You wake up back in your room, on your bed but still in last night's clothes. You don't see your phone anywhere near you so it must be out in the living room somewhere. You get up, stretching then changed in more comfortable pajamas as you head out to the kitchen to grab some breakfast.

"Armie." You grin with a sleepy daze on your face as you greet the older actor, but unlike any other time, he doesn't grin back or even call your name in greeting. Instead, he swallows whatever was in his mouth, pushing the chair in front of him forward with his foot.

"We need to talk."

You'd never heard Armie sound like this so you immediately follow his orders.

He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, a classic stressed Armie movie. He must have been bothered by something, perhaps something that you did?

"Listen Y/N, I really thought we reached an understanding back at the hike…" he sighs again, "But I'm almost done with filming and will be heading back to LA for a new movie after this so I won't even have time to contact either of you two and I can only hope for the best, but I have to tell you Y/N, as much as I like you. You're being very selfish." 

You feel your mouth go slightly agape as Armie's words sink in, "Do you notnunderstand how much you've been hurting Timothee? Choosing your ex over him? Leaving him alone with an old friend of the two of you who Timothee doesn't even know? He got here at 7 PM, Y/N. He sat around doing nothing and waited for you while you were off with your ex."

"Armie, you don't understand, it's not that simple-"

"Bullshit, it's not that simple." He hits the table in frustration, "I told him yesterday to get some rest, to forget about you because there are other girls out there, but he still waited for you. How could you do that to him?"

His eyebrows were furrowed, "How could you hurt this boy who has done nothing but show you that he understands you and is willing to wait for you? How could you just let this guy who's so willing to be hurt if it's for your sake, be hurt by you?"

You feel the tears fall from your eyes as you blink, "Armie, I'm sorry, I'm such a jerk. Thimothee should hate me-"

"Yeah, yeah you are a jerk." His voice falters, "and don't tell me you're sorry. Tell that to Timothee, you owe it to him at the least. Tell him how you feel and what you've decided." He looks at you for a second as you contemplate asking him where Timothee is, "He left earlier to pick up your ex and his friend to take them to the train station. They got an earlier ticket."

You rush to your room, get dressed and bolt out the house, grabbing your phone from the coffee table, as you run out the street to hail a cab.

You sit in the cab agitated as you unlock your phone, bombarded with texts and calls from a mixture of Timothee, Haz, and Tom.

You told Tom last night you'd give him an answer, so this is what you were finally going to do. You grab a fistfull of money from your pocket and shove your hand through the middle of the cab, not caring if you paid too much and you bolt out of your seat and onto the train station.

You spot the pale blonde boy among a sea of people by the baggage dropoff and you grab hold of his shoulders, "Where's Tom!?"

Haz blinks at you in surprise, "Y/N! Thank god. He was gonna wait for you and our departure is in 30 minutes, you need to talk to him. He's by the ticket booth."

You push past people, tears in your eyes growing heavy as you see him. Eyes red and swollen probably from crying too.

"Y/N!" He calls out for you looking relieved, reaching his hand out for you to take.

You clasp on it tightly, "Tom." You wipe the tears in your eyes with the sleeve of your free arm, "I'm here to tell you."

He bites his bottom lip, noticing your lack of bags, "Y/N. Let's fix it, let's fix us." He grabs both your hands and he rests his forehead on yours, "Let's leave all this bullshit behind, let's finally start our family and live like normal people. We can travel the world."

You shut your eyes, relishing in Tom's atmosphere, "Tom, you love your job." You sigh, "And just because having a normal, quiet life is something I've always wanted, doesn't mean that's what you need to want too." You sigh, "Why did you come here?"

The tears spring to his eyes, "Because I don't want to be without you, Y/N. And this was my last chance. I was so willing to leave everything behind because having everything without you would just be nothing." He clutches your hands tight, "Because after this, I don't know if I can ever even talk to you again. Because I decided to choose you over this life that I worked so hard for, because my management team in Marvel is making me do something that means I can't talk to you anymore and you're going to end up hating me for it and I can't live with that and I can't live without you. Because, I-I want to choose you, and I'd choose you over and over and over again. Because I want to be with you…" he trails off, "But that isn't what you want, is it?" His smile is sad but understanding, a true love.

You shake your head gently, "Tom, we were perfect even in the ways we weren't but I have to see where things end up with Timothee. He was there for me. I need to live a life without you in it to live for myself." You hold his cheek in your hand, "And I love you. I always will, but now isn't the time for us. I want you to choose your dreams over me. Right now, we have to live our own lives without each other. I can't have you throwing your dreams away because of me. And I've needed you and leaned on you for so long that it took me this long to realize I have to live without you to learn to be who I am. Timothy's like me. He needs me… and I needed you. But I need to live a life where I don't any more." 

He sighs, accepting your decision, slowly bringing his face to yours as your tears mixed with his in a tender kiss. He breaks apart first, leaning his forehead against yours again, "Bye Y/N. I really hope we find our way back to each other one day." 

You embrace him tight as the sob reverbitates through your body, "Bye Tom. I love you. I always will." You kiss him on the cheek, letting him go as he boards the train, leaving you on the platform looking vulnerable with your long sleeves covering your hands as you clutched them together, you kiss you fingers lifting that same hand to say goodbye, and the train moves on, farther and farther until you couldn't see it anymore and there weren't anymore people on the platform.

You walk out the station, already recognizing the mop of brown curly hair and you sit next to him quietly.

"I saw you, running out the cab, even when you took out all your money and gave it to the guy and I thought, how the hell does this goober think she's getting home?" He chuckles.

You look at him quietly, "With you." You answer surely.

Timothee's laugh is cut short.

You turn to face him, "Because you're always there for me, and you always will be."

He tries to look at something else aside from your face but you grab his face in both of your hands and make him look at you.

"How could I not?"

You speak quietly, "You should hate me."

He sighs, "But I don't." He rolls his eyes playfully, "And I never could." 

You sigh, "But you should. Because I've treated you like crap since Tom got here and I've been so unfair to you. You should scream at the air and then at me because I've done nothing but hurt you, and you should tell me that you want nothing to do with me and tell me you hope that you don't meet anyone like me ever again. You should call me a bad person, because I am and a user because I've always taken advantage of you being nice to me. You should tell Luca how terrible of a person I am and maybe, just maybe he'll write me out of the movie so that you at least don't have to see me for the rest of filming. You should hate me for everything I've done to you." You sob.

His hand reaches out to grab your own, pulling you down so you were sitting next to him, "I don't want to scream at you. I normally wouldn't but given that look you're giving me while you're crying your eyes out, I especially don't want to. Who cares if I've gotten hurt? We're actors, we have to feel things for the sake of our art." He wipes the tears from your cheeks, smiling sadly, "And if I let you go now, then I really don't meet anyone like you ever again and I don't want that. You aren't a bad person, Y/N."

"But I am!" You cry, "You don't deserve what I've been doing to you-"

"I don't care." He shrugs, "Simple as that, I don't care if you hurt me, make me into your punching bag for all I care, all I care about is the calm look in your eyes when we're together, how your laugh sounds like bells, the way your nose crinkles when you laugh at my corny jokes, or even the way you run your hands through your hair when you're stressed. I don't feel alone when I'm with you, Y/N and you always take care of me and you didn't even shy away when I was having that panic attack a few days ago. So how could you ever expect me to hate you when all I want to do is love you and all you've ever done for me is make me feel less alone and loved? How could anyone ever expect me to hate you when I see you like how I see you?" 

You two sit there for a while, just staring at each other, "Did you talk to him?"

You nod, "I did. And I told him what I wanted to do with the situation we were in."

His face drops slightly, "Oh."

You nod, "I told him I wanted to be with you."

His face brightens in surprise, "Oh."

You nod along, "Yeah."

"Then, can I-?"

You scoff, "I'd be insulted if you didn't" you laugh as he pulls you in for a kiss.

He breaks apart first, firehead resting against yours, "What happens after Italy?"

You sigh, eyes still closed, "We'll get there when we get there."

[sweetlittlevampire]

Rima’s Wangxian Fic Rec

So I’ve compiled these specifically for @inessencedevided , but hey, we’re all here to spread the love, so please, share and reshare to your heart’s content! :D

I’ll start with “Personal Favourites” - there are many more that I would consider a Personal Favourite, but I’ve picked those specifically because I thought you’d enjoy them. AU fics will also be included, because there are some real gems out there, and some still take place in canon universe, but with a twist, so...yeah.

Main pairing is Wangxian; I somehow don’t tend to read much else. ^^;

This thing is going to be loooong, so please find everything under the Read More. And feel free to let me know if a link doesn’t work so I can fix it.

Personal Favourites

爱不释手; never let me go by yiqie

Rating: Explicit

Warning: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Length:  68713 words

Chapters: 1

Status: Completed

Author’s summary: “Wei Wuxian has certainly hoped so ardently in his two lifetimes, for so many different things, in so many different ways, that he could have summoned the demon to his front door with his bare hands. His eyes wander to Lan Zhan, settle on the back of his head, the blue-black curtain of his hair. Oh, how he has hoped.”

A case fic! And one of my personal all-time favourites as well! It is so well-crafted, with an engaging and captivating plot, a TON of OCs who actually do contribute to the story, and a few scenes that are so beautiful I could weep. Got hyped up on twitter, and rightfully so. It’s a delight to read.

Rabbit Heart by  Suaine

Rating: Mature

Warning: N/A

Length:   56590 words in total

Chapters: 6

Status: Completed

Author’s summary: “ Wei Wuxian walks his lonely road, but he’s not going to leave Lan Wangji entirely alone. That would be boring. “

Another case fic! Set after the show’s ending, Wei Wuxian goes his way, but leaves the paper man behind to keep Lan Wangji company. I loved this one to pieces - it has intriguing subplots and will make your heart melt several times.

Those are actually thonly two case fics I’ve read so far, but for more, be sure to visit @wangxianfics ‘s Case Fic section. It has many more, and I am planning on reading several of them.

the earth remembered me by  remux

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Warning: N/A

Length:  30321  words so far

Chapters: 2 out of scheduled 4

Status: Ongoing

Author’s Summary: “All around him, summer throbs like a heartbeat, undeniably alive. Wounds begin to heal. And Wei Wuxian, with sweat on his brow, feels ripe. Wei Wuxian, with his hands deep in the soil and mud between his toes, remembers something simple and primitive and utterly transformative: It feels good to make things grow. OR: Wei Wuxian’s travel guide to finding your place in the world.”

This fic changed me. Like, literally. It’s still ongoing, but I don’t even care. It’s not a case fic, but I’m 100% sure you’ll love it. It’s pure poetry and catharsis, and it hurts so much, but it’s so necessary. I think I cried several times while reading each of the chapters, and I’m eagerly but patiently awaiting the next one. It follows Wei Wuxian’s journey after he leaves the Cloud Recesses in episode 50 and tells the story of what he does and experiences before he returns back to Lan Wangji. So it’s absically only Wei Wuxian, Lil’ Apple, and the people they meet along his way.

Begotten by  ecorie

Rating: General Audiences

Warning: N/A

Length:   37279  words

Chapters: 6

Status: Completed

Author’s Summary: “He’s mine.” He echoed what had once been teasingly said in jest, and added, “This is my son.” Against all odds and without a choice, Lan Zhan brings A-Yuan back to Cloud Recesses. Xichen keeps his brother’s secrets, and shields the child when Lan Zhan could not.“

Also known as: Filling in the blanks with everything that happened in those 13 years. I loved this one. Wangji = Best Dad, Sizhui = Best Son.

Canon Universe

(not necessarily canon compliant though)

the soft animal by  cafecliche

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warning: N/A

Length:   5046  words

Chapters: 1

Status: Completed

Author’s Summary: “You don’t think that’s strange?” he says. His voice, his new voice, is familiar now. But sometimes it almost startles him, hearing it come from his mouth. “It’s been nine months. I’ve used them almost every day. I should know how long these legs are.” (Or: Wei Wuxian has a plan to train Mo Xuanyu’s body. The results aren’t quite what he expects.)“

A very interesting take on Wei Wuxian, and how he comes to terms with his new body. Something I had not seen previously explored, and I really loved how the author handled it.

Come let me love you (Come love me again) by  obsessivereader

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warning: N/A

Length:  9105   words

Chapters: 1

Status: Completed

Author’s Summary: “The notes from the dizi cut off as Wei Ying goes absolutely still. Over the quiet whisper of the wind through grass, Lan Wangji can hear the rapid beat of his own heart. Wei Ying's hands drop to his side slowly, so slowly, as though time has slowed down for both of them. He turns, a look almost of fear on his face. And then...And then, Wei Ying smiles—slow and beautiful and warm and relieved as though Lan Wangji standing before him is a treasured dream fulfilled. "Lan Zhan," he breathes.“

A “What happens after the end of the last episode?”-fic. I’m kind of a sucker for those. This one is very sweet and tender; I absolutely loved the interactions between Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian, and the gentleness of it all. I also adore the song it’s been titled after (”Annie’s Song” by John Denver, if you’re curious).

Death of a Ghost by  Gotcocomilk

Rating: Explicit

Warning: N/A

Length:   107397 words in total

Chapters: 30

Status: Completed

Author’s Summary: “There was a ghost that haunted the decks of Lotus Pier, it was said. If you stepped across the wooden planks at night, walked along the endless docks and flying purple banners, he would appear. He was always in darkest black, dressed as specter and shadow. In the emptiness where a face should be was a thick fog, features washed away and leaving behind only glimmering red eyes. He looked ferocious as a ghoul, it was said. Jin Ling thought he looked sad.“

Full disclosure - I am five chapters into this thing, and I am already recommending it, I am that intrigued. There is some serious Yunmeng Bros stuff in there which I think you are going to love, and the interactions between said ghost and Jin Ling are - aaaah! Cannot wait to continue!

wrap your name tight around my ribs by  sasukepositive

Rating: General Audiences

Warning: N/A

Length:   8728 words

Chapters: 1

Status: Completed

Author’s Summary: “ In true Wei Ying fashion, his return comes with a dose of mischief. “

Another “What happens after the end of the last episode?”-fic, with a good dose of Wangxian family feels. In fact. the whole thing is a huge chunk of feels. A very soft, delicate, and sweet fic, which will leave you feeling warm and fuzzy.

please linger by  sasukepositive

Rating: General Audiences

Warning: N/A

Length:   5636 words

Chapters: 1

Status: Completed

Author’s Summary: “ When A-Yuan begins crying, Lan Wangji knows it makes sense. He understands that crying will not harm him — he logically knows that. However, A-Yuan’s little face turns red so quickly that it leaves Lan Wangji a little panicked.“Ah,” he begins helplessly, stepping forward in an attempt at — something. He doesn’t know what. “It’s okay.” or: sometimes the man you love assures you that his mysteriously acquired child will nap until he gets back from shopping. for sure. “

If you liked the Dad Date Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian had with A-Yuan in Yiling, then you’ll love this one. It’s a fill-the-gaps fic in which Lan Wangji returns to Yiling several times to see Wei Wuxian and A-Yuan. Still follows canon events though, hence the bittersweet ending, but it is still so so lovely.

I hope that you will come and meet me by  feyburner

Rating: Mature

Warning: N/A

Length:   28385 words

Chapters: 1

Status: Completed

Author’s Summary: “ The second time Lan Zhan said Wei Ying, come back, Wei Wuxian did. “

Another one of tehse post-show-canon fics. I love everything feyburner writes, and this was the first fic of theirs I came across. I love the feeloings described in it, and just how sweet it is. One of those fics in which the way the mature part is executed just makes the whole thing even sweeter.

Alternate Universe

(but sometimes within the canon universe?)

Merman Lan Wangji!AU by  FleetofShippyShips ( @fleetofshippyships here on tumblr)

- which is a series of connected fics, and not one long fic with chapters, hence why the formatting is different here. 5 entries so far; ungoing. Teen And Up Audiences

...which is definetely a personal favourite of mine, - you might have noticed, since I’ve been drawing a ton for this particular AU. But since I don’t know if yu’re into merfolk!AUs I didn’t list it up there with the personal favourites.

It is following canon so far, only that Lan Wangji is, as the title suggests, a merman - with secrets.

I adore the atmosphere of this series so much, and the way Zoe writes it is just so beautiful. It’s a story in which I could live, and if you’re in for the ride, I can assure you that there will be many surprises to come.

Welcome to Gusu  by  perkynurples ( @bilboo here on tumblr)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warning: N/A

Length:   30853 words so far

Chapters: 5 so far

Status: Ongoing

Author’s Summary: “ Deep in the lush forests of Gusu hides an aging resort that hosts dozens of children every summer for an unforgettable couple of weeks. It’s where Lan Wangji grew up alongside Wei Wuxian, and when his childhood friend (for the lack of a better term) surprisingly returns years later in the position of Senior Counsellor, seemingly hell bent on causing the same kind of mischief that got him kicked out of Gusu in the first place, but also taller, broader and tanner than ever before, Lan Wangji knows he’s In Trouble. Or, this fic has it all: longing looks over campfires, found family dynamics, ill-timed skinny dipping, teenagers inappropriately shipping their counsellors, LAKE MONSTERS “

Annie wasn’t lying when she said this fic has it all. What started as some kind of crack fic turned into something beautiful that completely owns my heart.  The interactions between the characters are so heartwarming, and while I sense that some major drama is going to occur soon, I also know that this will eventually have a happy ending. It’s delightful, and it does belong to my personal favourites as well.

Some of You by  tangerinechar

Rating: Mature

Warning: N/A

Length:   60640 words

Chapters: 7

Status: Completed

Author’s Summary: “Lan Wangji gets drunk and tweets a love confession, Wei Wuxian panics, and all of twitter decides to matchmake Lan Wangji and his mystery guy. “

A social media fic! And a hilarious one at that! If you’re in the mood for an extra panicky, extra obnoxious Wei Wuxian? This is the fic for you. It has one of the sweetest love confessions ever. There’s some background Xicheng too.

Window Shopping by  thunderwear

Rating: Explicit

Warning: N/A

Length:   18000 words

Chapters: 1

Status: Completed

Author’s Summary: “Lan Wangji didn't look out across the other apartment building often, but now, as he scooped up his escaped rabbit, he looked over only to see a piece of paper taped to the window of the apartment across from him. It was written on purple construction paper in big block letters, like a child had written it. WHAT'S YOUR BUNNY'S NAME???“

I did already rec this one to you, but WHO CARES? A Quarantine fic! The first one I came across, and I loved it! A friend of mine thought Wei Wuxian was OOC, but I disagree - he didn’t exactly grow up in the same circumstances as in canon, and his life situation isn’t 100% the same, so I still think it fits. A-Yuan makes an appearance, and the interactions between Lan Wangji, Wei Wuxian, and the boy are just so very cute!

Home is Where the Heart is by  Alipeeps ( @alipeeps here on tumblr)

Rating: General Audiences

Warning: N/A

Length:  10036 words

Chapters: 1

Status: Completed

Author’s Summary: “Wei Ying’s expression is tight and unhappy, his entire body held rigidly away from Lan Zhan.He doesn’t look at Lan Zhan as he says, “You don’t have to worry, Lan Zhan, I’m never going to touch you.”The distaste in Wei Ying’s voice makes Lan Zhan’s blood run cold.“Just because our families have arranged this marriage, we don’t have to be together… like that…” Wei Ying’s mouth twists unpleasantly. “It can be a marriage in name only. A...” he swallows, looking like he might be sick, “...a business arrangement.”

Arranged Marriage AUs are also one of my weaknesses, especially if the two soon-to-be-married people are actually in love with each other but have yet to confess, This one does the trick. It’s modern era with no cultivation, and the mutual pining is REAL in this one.

what else is there? by  mme_anxious

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warning: N/A

Length:   12917 words

Chapters: 1

Status: Completed

Author’s Summary: “Did you hear the terrible news? Yiling Laozu Wei Wuxian has gone beyond the pale! He has murdered Hanguang-Jun!”This is the first thing the swan hears flying over Yiling, and it sets him to hissing. It’s the kind of sound he would never make as a human, but as a swan—a mute swan— hissing is the only form of communication available to Lan Wangji. So he hisses. -Jin Guangyao transforms Lan Wangji into a swan. Only an act of love will break the curse.”

A fairytale!AU based on Swan Lake. You might have seen my Swangji drawing; this is the fic it was drawn for. It takes place in canon universe and is super lovely and magical. I may have cried a bit.

all your life you’ll dream of this by  Attila ( @attilarrific here on tumblr)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warning: N/A

Length:  22668 words

Chapters: 1

Status: Completed

Author’s Summary: “Lan Wangji should refuse. He should. He looks back down at the mask. Beneath it is the soft creamy paper of the invitation. He could present this at the door and slip into the palace and—“Go see him, Wangji,” Lan Xichen says quietly, and Lan Wangji feels his resolve crumble beneath him”

Another fairytale!AU - this time, it’s loosely based on Cinderella, with Lan Wangji as Cinderella and the forehead ribbon as glass slipper. Such a lovely lovely fic. May also have cried a bit; it’s heartfelt and magical and so warm and sweet.

Love wakes me by  dea_liberty

Rating: Explicit

Warning: N/A

Length:   42812 words in total

Chapters: 4

Status: Completed

Author’s Summary: "It starts with a bet. All mistakes, Wei Wuxian thinks, start with a bet. It’s starts with a bet and ends with Wei Wuxian losing everything. Nine years ago, Wei Wuxian made a bet with disastrous consequences. Now, he is part-owner of the popular and eclectic Yiling Cafe, years and miles away from his old life, making the best of things and trying to leave the past where it belongs. When Lan Wangji walks into his cafe by accident, Wei Wuxian finds himself doing what he thought he'd never do again; reclaiming some small part of his past, and hoping for a future he'd given up as lost.”

If someone had told me that I would fall head over heels in love with a Coffee Shop AU, of all things? I would have laughed...yet here we are. I’ve read this thing in one sitting and cannot stop thinking about it. I absolutely have to reread it; it’s slowly but surely becoming one of my personal favourites.

[let-it-raines]

another kind of green (10/10)

Emma Swan spends her days in pretty white dresses and heavy layers of makeup. Day after day and dress after dress, she poses for pictures and acts like she’s in love and having the happiest day of her life with the man standing next to her.

It’s not. This is all a gig, and at the end of the day, she’s no longer the girl in the pretty dress who’s faking getting married for a magazine cover or a wedding convention. Instead, she’s the girl who probably never wants to get married.

Little does she know, she already is.

Rating: Mature

a/n: I’m going to post this a few days early per a few requests, and I hope you all enjoy the ending! To those who were waiting to binge read the entire thing, now’s your opportunity! haha. 

Thanks to @xemmaloveskillianx​ choosing | forgotten first meeting + accidentally married | as her fic giveaway choice! It was difficult to figure out at first, but I had a great time writing it for you 💚 

ao3: beginning | current

Tumblr: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10

-/-

“So,” he starts as Emma clasps her bra and adjusts the straps until they’re in place, “that was – ”

“A one-time thing,” she quickly says, not allowing him to finish. “I’m not interested in anything more.” “Aye, neither am I.”

It’s been awhile since a had a one-night stand. They used to be more common for him, even if they did usually turn into month-long flings, but not so much lately. Tonight is an outlier, a what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas kind of cliché, and no matter how much he’d like to pull Emma back into bed with him for another round, she seems ready to go.

Good. That’s likely for the best for both of them.

No strings attached.

“Good. We’re in agreement then. Thanks for the – ”

“The best orgasm of your life?” 

Emma throws her head back with laughter, her tangled hair cascading down, and she quickly brushes through it with her fingers. God, her hair was soft. “Don’t flatter yourself. It was good, but I’m not giving you the best title.”

She reaches down and grabs her leggings, and he decides he should get dressed, too, pulling his jeans back on. “You going to give me another chance to try to take that top spot?”

“Huh. You wish.”

“I obviously do.”

She’s got to be one more cheeky statement away from slapping him.

They both keep getting dressed, falling silent in their conversation, and then all of the sudden they’re standing in front of his hotel room door. When did they move? Maybe the champagne affected him a little more than he thought if time is blurring together like that.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Emma rasps.

“Going down to the casino.”

“You can’t go to the casino. I’m going to the casino.”

“It’s a big city, love. I imagine we can both go. There is quite the selection of casinos.”

“I’m going to this one, though. I do not want to have to go to another hotel when I have a bed here.”

“Well, then, I guess we’ll have to manage to share the same space. We’ve been sharing a rather close space for the past hour, so I think we’ll be right as rain.”

Her eyes roll, and she quickly turns away, grabbing the rest of her belongings and opening his door. Killian follows, keeping his distance behind her, but they easily fall in step with each other. It’s weird walking with her now, hostility running between the two of them in the very hallway where she practically had her hand down his pants an hour ago. Killian tries not to think about it, to think about how damn good that felt and how frustrating it is to have Emma be so put off by him now.

This woman doesn’t make any sense.

Then again, who spends time together after a one-night stand? You either get up and leave right afterward, sneak away in the middle of the night, or have awkward conversation in the morning. Or possibly morning sex, but that’s the best case scenario.

They’re having awkward conversation right now. He should have stayed in the room. Instead he’s standing in an elevator with the woman he just fucked, and he’s never felt quite so claustrophobic.

As soon as the doors open, he’s going in the opposite direction of her. That’ll fix all of these problems.

“Hey,” someone yells when the doors open, “you two got married earlier!”

“Wrong people,” Emma mumbles as she steps out of the elevator.

“No, no, it was the two of you,” another girl says. It’s an entire group of them, all in matching outfits. Bloody hell. It’s a bachelorette party. Why do women insist on dressing alike when someone is getting married? “You had on the most gorgeous dress. It made me want to throw out my dress and buy a new one.”

“Oh, don’t say that. Your dress is gorgeous.”

“But it wasn’t like hers!”

“Yours is better. No offence.”

“None taken,” Emma laughs, looking over at him and smiling before quickly turning away and crossing her arms over her chest. Well, at least she smiled. “I’m sure your dress is gorgeous.”

“Thank you. I’m Anna, by the way. Can we buy you two some drinks? We’ve got a package with the hotel, and I’d just love to hear a little about the wedding.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Emma begins, nibbling on her lip. “I, we – ”

“That sounds great, Anna,” he interrupts. “Emma and I would love that.”

He knows Emma is shooting daggers at him with her eyes, and honestly, he doesn’t blame her. He’s just roped them into spending more time together as well as spending time with an overenthusiastic bachelorette party. If the woman didn’t already dislike him for everything outside of sex, she’d hate him now.

But honestly, it’s not bad. The women are nice, if not a bit loud, and he and Emma manage to string together some kind of fake story about their wedding and their courtship. Neither of them discussed actually telling them the truth, but he has a feeling they would all be absolutely devastated if they learned the truth. They’re very much a group who are in love with love, and if the drinks they’re getting weren’t so damn strong, he’d be bitter about it and say something about being engaged not being all it’s cracked up to be.

He couldn’t tell anyone what marriage is like. But engagement? He knows enough about that, and his certainly wasn’t like this.

“Do you want another one?” Emma asks him.

“Aye.”

She raises her hand over the bar, her sweater rising to show off her toned stomach, and orders them two more drinks. They might as well take advantage of the free drinks while they’re here.

“So, how long are we going to keep telling these women that we’re married?” she asks as she takes another sip of her drink. It’s mostly ice now, but she can’t seem to stop. “As long as we’re getting free drinks? Does that make us horrible people?”

“It makes us opportunists.”

Her eyes roll. “If it wasn’t one in the morning, I would probably protest.”

“It’s a good thing it’s one in the morning then, isn’t it, love?”

The drinks keep flowing as they move away from the bar and move toward the casino, spreading out to slot machines and poker tables. It’s been awhile since he played. Liam used to love the game, and everything Killian knows about it is from him. That’s a good thing when Killian starts winning a little money. It’s not such a great thing when security comes over because they suspect he might be counting cards.

His brain is not functional enough to count cards right now.

He’s definitely drunk. He knows that he is, and at some point today he should have had a little more water. This has not been his most well thought through day.

“Who knew you were such a rebel, nearly getting kicked out of a casino?” Emma asks, walking up to him and poking him in the chest after security finally lets him go. “I didn’t know you had it in you.”

“Darling, you barely know me.”

“True,” she slurs. “What do you say we get out of here since I don’t think security is going to let you keep playing?”

She stumbles, just briefly, and Killian grabs her waist, squeezing her hips. “I thought you said you didn’t want to leave the hotel.”

“Did I?”

“I think so.”

“Huh. Well, I’ve never been to Vegas. I’d like to explore. C’mon, Jones. Let’s go. It’s not like you have anything better to do.”

“No, love, I suppose I don’t.”

One minute he’s standing in the middle of the casino floor only inches away from Emma, and the next they’re walking hand in hand around the Venetian as Killian weaves some kind of story about how they’d tell Anna and her friends that they honeymooned in Italy and how they would absolutely eat that story up. He keeps thinking this isn’t real, that Emma shouldn’t still be standing next to him and that this is all a dream fueled by their sex, but she feels real.

She is definitely real.

And he’s very aware of how she’s clinging onto him in the small room that they’re in.

Wait. Weren’t they just outside? They were. They were also thinking about getting a gondola to ride, but now all of the sudden they’re in a room with the two of them, a few other people, and an Elvis impersonator.

What the fuck?

“You may now kiss your bride.”

Killian looks at Elvis before looking at Emma, and all the sudden he remembers walking into this chapel and remembers that he and Emma are getting married. She’s so pretty like this, her smile so bright, and he can’t quite believe she agreed to marry him. He thought he already had the one woman who would say yes to marrying him, but she eventually changed her mind. Now he’s got another chance.

This is a bloody brilliant idea.

Quickly, Killian bends his knees and dips his head down until his mouth is pressing against Emma’s.

-/-

Emma Swan is kissing him.

Emma. Swan. Is. Kissing. Him.

Killian knows how she kisses. He remembers how she moves her lips and how she knows how to perfectly move between aggressive and careful, and he knows that’s exactly what she’s doing right now.

The thing is, he can’t quite believe it’s real.

That she’s real.

He hasn’t seen her in two weeks. The Academy has been kicking his ass six ways to Sunday, and all he’s done is go to training, come home to eat and study, fall asleep, and then wake up and do it all again. He’s been awful at keeping up with his relationships and with his runs with Emma, and he kept meaning to call her. It was killing him that he kept blowing her off, but then he’d get called away and the thought would slip his mind.

How could Emma Swan have ever slipped his mind?

That’s something he’s been asking himself for months now as he desperately tries to remember every single detail of the day they met and the hours following. Only bits and pieces have come back after they slept together, and as much as he wants to know what happened, maybe it’s better if he never remembers.

Maybe it’s better if he leaves in the here and now because Emma is doing this particularly delicious thing with her tongue that has his heart pounding.  

This is about the last thing he ever expected to happen when he told her they were married and that they’d need an annulment.

God, they were supposed to go out to celebrate the annulment.

Emma starts to move away, her mouth fleetingly leaving his, but he doesn’t let her, wrapping one arm around her back and pulling her toward him while his other hand grabs onto her ponytail and gently tilts her head in the way that he wants to. She got to kiss him the way she wanted, and he damn well intends to get the same opportunity.

Now that the initial shock of her being here is over, now that he knows with complete certainty that this is real, he can feel the softness of her lips and the glorious way that her breasts press into his chest. He’s felt all of these things before, but it wasn’t like this. The last time was different. It was in a buzzed haze of lust and champagne, and while he feels the slightest buzz now, it’s nothing that would make him forget.

How could he ever again?

“Emma,” he whispers as he pulls back, resting his forehead against hers while they both pant, trying to catch their breaths, “what’s happening?”

And then he’s being shoved backward until he’s stumbling back into his apartment and Emma is following behind him. She’s strong, but she shouldn’t have been able to shove him backward as much as she did. Then again, showing up and kissing the holy hell out of him is the exact way to catch him off guard so that he’d stumble over practically anything.

What the hell is happening?

Now that he’s looking at her, he can see the fury in her eyes and the way that her hair is falling out of her ponytail. She’s covered in a light sheen of sweat, and when he looks down at her feet, he sees that she’s in her running shoes.

In the weirdest way, he’s missed those shoes.

She ran here.

“It takes five seconds to text,” Emma pants. His body is having a difficult time ignoring the rasp of her voice and the sweat on her skin, especially as it trickles down between her breasts. “It takes five seconds for you to tell me whatever the hell has been going on that you haven’t been able to go on our runs or get dinner or do whatever the hell it is that we do. Because do you know how it looks to me when I tell you about how shitty people have treated me only for you to practically disappear the next day? Do you know how shitty it felt to get our annulment papers and then have you disappear? Because I thought – I thought we – ”

“We did. We do.”

Her brows shoot to her hairline. “We what?”

Killian takes a step forward, close enough to grab Emma’s hand, but he doesn’t. “We were friends. Are. We are friends, love. I also thought that we might possibly be more. You kissing me kind of confirms that for me.”

Her cheeks turn the prettiest shade of red, and the corners of Killian’s lips tug up. He bets she hates herself for blushing right now. “I’ve kissed you before. You don’t know that it means something.”

Impossible. She’s absolutely impossible.

He rather likes that about her. Quite a lot actually. Definitely more than he ever expected to when he met her.

Definitely more than he ever expected to like anyone again.

“I do.”

“How?”

He braves the next step and moves closer to her, tucking a lose strand of her hair behind her ear. She doesn’t move away, and he has to hold in his exhale of relief.

“Don’t you know, Emma? It’s you. You make me sure of things I’d otherwise be unsure of, and you give me hope I haven’t felt in a long time.”

Her eyes are wider than he’s ever seen them, and unlike so many other days in his life where there’s nothing extraordinary happening, he knows that this is one that could change so much. “Your eyes are so beautiful, sweetheart. I don’t think I’ve seen anything like them before.”

“Do lines like that work on all of the girls?”

“I really only care if they work on you.” Emma huffs, and Killian dips his head down to hover his lips directly over Emma’s. He can feel her breath and the heat of her body. He can feel everything. “I’ve been having my ass kicked by training. I’m so exhausted day in and day out that I barely remember to eat. Not being able to run with you, not being able to have you take the piss out of me over my smoothie choices, has been torture. I didn’t want to leave you when the papers came in. I – ”

For the second time in five minutes, Emma slams her lips into his. She’s a force of nature, this one, and he’s not sure what to do.

Well, besides kiss her.

He’s completely blindsided by her being here, by her doing this, and somewhere in a small corner of his mind, he knows they should talk. He’s been burned enough times by physical relationships that he knows exactly how things like this go, but this isn’t that. This is a bloody confusing relationship that he couldn’t put into words if he tried.

“Are we – ”

“Yes.”

“Do you – ”

“Yes.”

Killian laughs into Emma’s mouth as she pushes him back into his apartment, his feet nearly tripping over Will’s bloody out of place shoes. “You don’t even know what I was going to ask.”

Emma stops kissing him, pulling back as he chases her lips, but he stops right before he captures them once more. “You were going to ask if we were going to have sex.”

“I was going to ask if you wanted to get dinner. A man likes to be courted.”

Her brow raises. “Are you serious?”

It’s nearly impossible for him to hold back his laugh. “Swan, there is literally nothing in the world I want more right now than to have you, but I need you to know that this isn’t going to be just sex for me, not like it was the first time. I know you now. I know the sound of your laugh and how you act when you don’t have coffee or food. I know, well, I know you more than I think either of us expected to get to know each other, and I don’t want this to be a one-time thing.”

He knows Emma well enough to know there’s a chance she’s about to walk back out his front door, but saying that was worth the risk. He doesn’t want to start something that’s going to end up hurting them both.

God, he should have found the time to call her this week. And last week. He’s got to apologize to her again.

Her chest heaves, the sweat there beginning to dry, and she opens her mouth only to snap it closed. “It’s not going to be a one-time thing. It means more to me now, too.”

“Good.”

He can’t seem to stray far from Emma, his hands running along the sides of her neck before falling down to her arms, and the way she’s working a spot on his neck is absolutely divine. She’s intoxicating, and every breath is not enough. That should terrify him. Hell, it should have him running out his own front door. This spark that runs hotly between them isn’t entirely new to him, and the last time it blew up in his face.

This has all the potential to do the same.

Or not.

“Is Will home?” Emma murmurs as they walk back toward his bedroom.

“At work.”

“Good. Wouldn’t want him walking out of his room and seeing this.” “It’d be quite the show.”

Emma pushes against his chest, but he easily grabs her waist and turns her around until he’s the one guiding her. She didn’t know where they were going anyway, was simply aimlessly guiding him until his back hit a wall and until her sweatshirt was left on the hallway floor. There’s so much happening right now that reminds him of their night in Vegas – the fumbling with clothes and heated kisses against walls as heat continues to simmer below his skin – but he knows this is different.

She knows it, too, which may be the best part of all.

A lifetime ago, he’d have despised himself for thinking things like that when a woman was undressing in front of him, but that was the past. This here and now? It’s better.

They’ve made it to his bedroom now, and his heart beats in a heavy pattern while his erection is tenting his sweatpants. It’s incredibly uncomfortable at this point, but he doesn’t intend to rush this. Not when things are so tentative and not when he’s been waiting for this moment.

“Oh my God,” Emma groans.

“Darling, I don’t think that’s the way you’re supposed to say those words in this particular situation. It’s supposed to sound a tad more…pleasant.”

“I can’t get my damn sports bra off.” “What?” Killian laughs, backing away from her to look at her as she tugs on her bra.

“I’m sweaty. Or, like, I was. I literally ran here. I can’t fucking get it off.”

His laughter keeps bubbling in his chest, mixing in with the heat between his legs and his focus on getting some kind of relief, but Emma is standing in his bedroom, half-naked, and she can’t get her damn bra off.

“I am probably the sexiest woman you’ve ever slept with, right?”

“Aye,” Killian says, completely serious. He steps forward and leans down to press his lips to her collarbone as he tugs the material of her bra up. It is stuck, but with a little willpower, he pulls it up and off of Emma until it’s falling to the ground so that she’s bare to him. “You are.”

Her cheeks flush red, and that flush moves down toward her breasts. It’s a beautiful sight with which he cannot wait to become more acquainted.  

“Shut up and get on the bed.”

“So demanding, lass.”

She rolls her eyes. “I don’t know about you, but I ran a few miles to get here, and I think I’m running on limited time before my body decides to stop working.”

“I haven’t slept more than four hours a night in two weeks.”

“So this is about to be really good sex then?”

“Aye, absolutely.”

Emma falls back onto the bed, and Killian cages her in, moving his mouth of hers and licking into her mouth while his fingers trail down her body, one hand palming her breast while the other finds the slickness between her thighs. He groans at the feeling, at knowing this is for him, and it doesn’t take long before her thighs are quivering from his ministrations. She’s very nearly there, her back arched off the bed, and this is better than any and all of his memories.

“Condom,” Emma pants. “Get a fucking condom.”

“I – ”

“Please do not make the joke I know you’re going to make.”

Killian huffs and curls his fingers inside of her once more before pulling out and leaving a soft kiss to her inner thigh, watching as her skin twitches with his touch. He quickly gets the condom from the box in his bedside drawer, rolling it on and wondering why the hell that takes so long, before he moves to hover over Emma again. She doesn’t let him, though, encouraging him to lay on his back as she straddles his hips and curls her fingers into his chest hair.

“This is a new side of you, love.”

“I’ve got a few of those.”

He arches a brow. “Really, now?”

“Hold your horses, tiger. One at a time. I’m not some kind of contortionist energizer bunny.”

He bites his cheek, a comeback on the tip of his tongue, but then Emma is guiding him into her, the warmth of her surrounding him, and all of the breath leaves his body at the feel of her.

Bloody hell.

He can already feel his release licking at his spine, but it’s too soon. There’s so much left to be done, and he’s not some teenage boy who’s going to fall apart at first touch.

Emma looks ethereal above him, even under the harsh lighting of his bedroom, and he watches as her eyelashes flutter against her cheeks and a smile curves at her lips. And then she starts moving. It’s slow and steady at first, the both of them testing each other out, but then his hands grab onto her hips and she really starts moving.

It’s like nothing he’s ever experienced before. “You’re absolutely everything,” he breathes. “Bloody magnificent.”

“Killian, I – ”

He nods and leans up to wrap his arms around her back, pulling her toward him so their chests brush together, and then he’s carefully flipping them around, slipping out of her for a moment before slamming back in. They’re both almost there, bodies shaking and breaths gone, and he’s purposeful with his thrusts and with the way he moves his hand where they’re joined until Emma sucks in a sharp breath and begins to fall, becoming more glorious by the second. He works her through it, letting her wide out the waves, but then he starts fucking her in earnest until his own release is thrumming at the base of his spine and working through him.

Killian collapses on top of her, crushing her with his weight before propping himself up on his elbows so he can look down at her and the absolutely goofy grin on her face. He’d like to see that more often.

“Better than the first time, aye?”

Emma laughs and reaches up to push his sweat-soaked hair off his forehead. “It’s not a competition, but yeah, better than the first.”

Killian huffs and falls to her side, quickly pulling off the condom and tying it before dumping it into the trash. “You should show up to my apartment more often then.”

Emma turns on the bed and reaches around to pull the comforter up over her. He grabs it and helps tug it up over both of them while Emma inches closer to him, leaning down and kissing his collarbone. He could go again if his body would let him, the adrenaline giving him more energy than he’s had in weeks, but it’s not going to last long.

“Was it really just that you were busy?” Emma asks. “It wasn’t – ”

Killian adjusts his arm under her shoulder and trails his fingers down her back while his other hand tries to smooth back some of her hair. “I should have made time for you. I wanted to. I will from now on. Love, I promise that it wasn’t because the annulment papers came in. I, well…”

“What?”

“I was happy when they came in. It felt like a weight lifted off my shoulders, but a part of me was also terrified that you’d have nothing to do with me now that we had no reason to still be talking.”

Emma’s lips fall open before snapping shut. “I felt the same way.” 

“Yeah?”

She nods her head, looking at him with a small smile, before letting her head fall back against the pillow. Their noses are so close they’re almost touching.

The freckles on her cheeks are mesmerizing.

“If you haven’t worn me out, because I definitely plan on the two of us doing that again, I will go running with you in the morning.”

“What about training? Aren’t you exhausted?”

“Aye, but I think I’ll be able to survive. I’m a survivor, Swan. I also think I owe you a smoothie.”

“You owe me about ten smoothies.”

Killian chuckles and closes his eyes before opening them back up to the brilliant shade of green of Emma’s eyes. “I think I can handle that.”

“So, Jones,” she whispers, her own lips threatening to turn into a smile far brighter than the small one she’s been keeping since they started talking in the afterglow of it all, “I think we should go on a date.”

His brow arches. He wasn’t expecting that. He should have been, but they’re all sorts of messy right now. He’s not even exactly sure what he should be expecting when it comes to Emma.

He can’t wait to find out.

“Aren’t I supposed to be the one asking you out?”

“You are so old-fashioned.”

“Now, darling, I believe I fucked you, married you, annulled that marriage, fucked you again, and then agreed to date you. In that order. What could possibly be old-fashioned about that?”

Emma chuckles and leans forward to kiss him again. He wants to get used to that. “Did you agree to me asking you out? I don’t remember hearing that.”

Her eyes roll. She’s exasperated by him, but it’s not like it was at the beginning. It’s not true annoyance. It’s something entirely different.

Better.

Definitely, definitely better.

“I’d love to go on a date with you, Emma Swan.”

“Good.”

-/-

-/-

They get married three years later.

It’s pouring down rain, a July storm coming in and surprising everyone, and Killian can barely hear David officiating the ceremony over the sound of the water hitting the ground around him and flooding into the Charles river. They wanted to do it by the damn bench that’s paint was messed up from the man sitting on wet paint all those years ago, had planned on it for a few weeks now, only to show up today and find that the city had finally fixed the bench after three years of it being messed up.

All of the signs were there for them to cancel these plans. There’s no special meaning to today, simply a date they picked on the calendar that was close enough to the day they met and fit their schedules, and they could have changed it when they found out it was going to rain.

Emma didn’t want to.

He didn’t either.

Killian’s wearing his dress uniform, and Emma has on a short, emerald green dress that hugs her curves and is driving him mad every time he looks at her. They were already dressed when it started pouring, and they both pretty much said what the hell. Why not? That’s kind of been their motto through the whole thing.  

They’re both wearing wellies.  

As are all of their friends.

They look ridiculous. He knows that they do, but he wouldn’t have it any other way when it comes to the love of his life and her happiness.

Neither of them ever wanted to legitimately get married, not after everything, but it’s funny how things change when you find the right person who’s willing to wade deep into the waters of life with you.

It’s funny how things change when you meet a woman whose eyes are another kind of green.

-/-

-/-

tag list: @xemmaloveskillianx​ @therealstartraveller776​ @stahlop @shardminds @carpedzem @captainsjedi  @galaxyzxstark @thejollyroger-writer @kmomof4 @tiganasummertree @xellewoods @idristardis @karenfrommisthaven @shireness-says @scientificapricot @captswanis4vr @a-faekindagirl @ultimiflos @jamif @dreameronarooftop15 @nikkiemms @resident-of-storybrooke  @bmbbcs4evr @onceuponaprincessworld @jennjenn615 @mayquita @teamhook @kmomof4 @ekr032-blog-blog @superchocovian @ultraluckycatnd @cs-forlife @andiirivera @qualitycoffeethings @jonirobinson64 @mariakov81 @spartanguard @snowbellewells  @onepunintendid​ @bluewildcatfanatic​

[mirkwoodshewolf]

My mentor, my idol; Freddie Mercury x teen reader

*Author’s note*

Hey guys well here’s a new update. Now before you all read this next chapter of the Rock Angel I want to point out something, this is ANOTHER past chapter so for all you newcomers here, this takes place before you reader-chan become the Rock Angel (well truthfully for this chapter it’s a bit of both). Now on the BoRhap/Queen masterlist I’ve got this in order of how to read it so if you want to do a binge reading of this series that has helped me bond with so many users on tumblr in my 3 years since getting Tumblr, be my guest :) 

Plus I’ve been wanting to do this chapter for LITERALLY FOREVER. To really show more of Freddie’s bond with you as the Rock Angel both before and after you become said Rock Angel. I REALLY wanted to showcase that so I hope I did for any Freddie stans out there ;)

Taglist:

@plethora-of-things​

@psychosupernatural​

@waddles03​

@simonedk​

@jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels​

@queensdivas​

@platawnic​

@queendeakyy​

@geek-and-proud​

@kairosfreddie​

@onebigfangirlworld​

@naturalswifty89​

@starswin​

@isabella-bby​

@labessieisallama​

@bohemiansweede​

@5sos-wdw​

_______________________________________________________________

*Feb. 2nd, 1981*

It kinda felt strange not going back to the studio anymore.  After a 4 month internship, I was once again back in college with that internship with Miami and Queen under my belt.  I was currently working on some homework (now that Adam had been kicked out of the apartment so that he could live with that bimbo).

As I was writing out my answer to a question, my phone rang.  I stood up from the living room and picked up the phone.

“Hello?”

‘(Y/n).’ I smiled softly.

“Hi Freddie.”

‘Hello my little Rock angel.’ I shook my head at the nickname.

“So what’s the occasion for this phone call?”

‘What? Can’t a fabulous superstar call one of the best interns he and his bandmates have ever had?’

“Freddie you know I’m no longer your intern anymore.”

‘I know. But seriously darling. I miss you. We all do.’ I placed my hand over my heart.

“I miss you guys too. My days are quite boring now with just school and homework.”

‘Of course it’s boring darling because I’m not around you anymore.’ We both chuckled.

“You are so ridiculous.” I laughed.

‘But you know you love me.’

“I do Freddie. Very much. Truthfully, I wish the summer would come faster. I want to be with you guys again. To tour with you guys again.”

‘(Y/n) dear.’

“Yeah?”

‘You don’t have any plans this Saturday do you?’

“I mean I was gonna study for an exam I’ve got next Tuesday, why do you ask?”

‘Now I don’t want you to ask any questions, but come over to my place for a while. I want to do something.’

“Freddie what are you planning?”

‘I just told you, you can’t ask any questions!’ He chuckled.  I shook my head.

“Right sorry. Umm……I don’t know Fred, I mean this exam is pretty important to this class.”

‘Come on. To make up for it I’ll send Brian and Deacy over to your place on Sunday to help you study.’ I did an internal debate in my head, weighing the pros and cons before I finally said.

“What time do you want me to come over?” I heard him cheer on the other side of the phone before he told me to be at his house at exactly high noon.  I agreed and with that he reminded me to not be late or else he’d have Roger tickle me till the next generation.

The week went by fairly quickly and soon it was Saturday.  I was thankful that this time around we had some sunny weather (between the cloudy or rainy weather, sunny days are rare in the mid-winter here in England).  So I grabbed my keys and my helmet and proceeded to head out to Freddie’s place.

It took a while to get there (thanks London traffic) but just 2 minutes till noon, I finally arrived at Freddie’s place at Garden Lodge.  

After getting access into the gate and parking my bike at the entrance, I walked across the front garden and walked up to the front door.  I rang the doorbell and soon opening the door was the frontman himself.

“Ahh (y/n) darling. You managed to just get here just in the nick of time. I was just about to call blondie and let him know his new task.”

“Hilarious Fred.” I sassed back sarcastically as he allowed me inside.

I was—amazed at the inside of it.  It was—huge! But beautiful. Like those mansions you see on the telly or in a James Bond film.  There were expensive vases standing on a few pillars, tons of artwork and architecture that looked like they came out from ancient Japan, and almost everywhere there was some hint of yellow coloring in the walls.

Suddenly I felt something rub against my leg.  I looked down and there was an orange tabby cat at my feet.  He sniffed my right foot before rubbing his head against it and collapsing on the floor as he continued to rub against my shoe.

“Oscar, behave yourself we have company!” Freddie scolded. “I’m so sorry darling Oscar’s been getting this habit of wanting to rub up against people’s feet.”

“It’s no trouble at all Freddie, really.”

“I—I hate to ask this but you aren’t—allergic to cats are you?”

“Oh no not at all. I love cats.” I knelt down which startled Oscar for a second.  I reached my hand out for him and he gently sniffed it before going in and rubbing against my finger, begging to be petted.

“Oh that’s good. I really do hate having to lock them up whenever I have guests that are allergic. Tiffany and Romeo especially hate it. Always wanting to mingle with everyone they meet, so don’t be surprised if they come up to you and want to sleep on your lap.”

“Thanks for the heads up.”

“Now then, if you’ll follow me we can begin our training.” He walked off without another word. Wait what?

“Training?” I said as I stood up following behind Freddie.

We now stood before a large music room with a grand piano (the very piano that goes on tour with them), a record player in the corner with a bunch of vinyl’s surrounding it.

“Freddie? Fred? Did-did you just say training?”

“Yes my darling, your training begins now.”

“What training?”

“What training?” he mocked me in a posh tone before stating firmly again, “Your rise to stardom training of course.”

“What?”

“Am I going deaf or something? I said—”

“No I heard you Fred, it’s just…..why?”

“Because (y/n) dear, you once said it was your dream to one day be amongst the greatest rock and rollers.”

“Yeah. A dream. Only in my dreams will that happen.”

“You sell yourself short darling.”

“No Fred, I’m logical about this. Because I know it’s true. I—can you honestly see someone like me up on stage?” his brow furrowed at my statement.

“Come with me.” He grabbed my hand and dragged me over to the bathroom where a large mirror stood over the vanity. “Look in the mirror and tell me who you see?”

“I see you.”

“Alright smartass, besides the fabulous me.”

“I—I see a girl who has too much imperfections, who sees why her douche of an ex-boyfriend dumped her for a slutty bimbo, and……”

“Stop, stop, stop, stop, stop, stop!” he tutted. “What was that?”

“The truth?” I said perplexed.

“No. That. That was bullshit. That’s not what I see when I look at you.”

“And just what do you see?” I demanded. Freddie pressed himself against me, leaning his head on top of mine as his arms wrapped around me.

“Who I see before me; is a strong young woman.” I scoffed. “I’m serious darling. You have been through so much shit in your life and yet you still stand before the world with your head held high and your heart open. Anyone who started off like you would’ve ended up either as a delinquent or cold-hearted. But you—you’ve managed to hold on to your sanity.”

He removed himself from me and continued as he now began to brush my hair back and even braid a few strands together.

“Not only that but I see a woman who can change the way music can be.”

“You really think so?”

“Trust me darling. You could be the next Gladys Knight, Stevie Nick, Aretha Franklin, you know how much I love Aretha. You could be up in the big leagues with them. Pouring your heart and soul out to the world through your songs. Showing people that even through hardships, they can still find the light at the end of the tunnel.” He finished the braid and placed his hands on my shoulders as he leaned his head against mine once more.

“But how can I when I can barely stand before you and the guys when you asked me to sing ‘Set it all free’ for you guys?”

“That takes time. Believe me darling you think that Queen’s first gig was with the number of people we’ve got now? Oh no. Every good performer starts off small before gradually getting bigger and bigger. And any artist that says they weren’t scared at their first gig, is a dirty, rotten liar. Back when Queen had their first gig in Truro city hall, I was scared shitless.”

“Get outta town.”

“No, no it’s true. You ask Rog and he’ll tell you that I nearly forgot the lineup for the songs we were going to sing. And Brian will tell you that I mixed up some of the lyrics to Keep yourself alive.” I shook my head.

“I don’t believe you.”

“But it’s true though.”

“But you always seem so confident on stage Fred. I—I’d give anything to have that kind of bravery on stage.”

“Well darling, believe it or not I’m not like that all the time.”

“Okay now I know you’re lying. I’ve seen how you act—”

“Ah tut, tut, tut. That’s only because I act that way towards people I really trust. Which includes you. Any other time like for interviews or TV appearances, all I want is to just go home and be with my furbabies.” I turned to fully face him and I asked him.

“Then how do you do it? How can you find the courage to get up on that stage almost every night?”

“Because of the audience. Most performers want to just put on a show but not make every single person out there a part of it. To make them feel like they too can influence the performance. As Queen, we make them feel like we belong to them and not the other way around. Plus it gives them a chance to get a taste of the heavens whenever we’re on stage.”

God……never would I guess that the Freddie Mercury could be a shy person, only to reveal his fun side to only those he was really close to and trusted with his life.

“Now darling answer me this; what helps you break out of your shell? I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.”  I looked down embarrassed.

“You’ll probably think it’s silly.”

“Try me.” He challenged.  I looked up at him and his brown eyes shined with a serious intent.  I exhaled heavily and muttered.

“It’s…..it’s dancing.”

“Dancing?” he questioned.

“Yep. Specifically when I can sing and dance.” Then the worst thing I had imagined came true, Freddie actually began laughing. I crossed my arms over my chest and said, “You said you wouldn’t laugh!”

“I’m sorry darling. Believe me I’m not laughing at you.” he said through his giggles.

“Then why are you still doing it?!”

“Because you and Deacy are more alike than you give yourself credit for.” I then let out a couple of coughs into his fist trying to rid of his laughter. “He told me the same thing comforts him whenever we go up on stage. Why do you think he does all those funky little dance moves of his? And you have seen him at parties right? Get some alcohol into him and a disco beat and you’ve got the concoction for Freaky Disco Deacy.”

I softly laughed to myself remembering all the times when Deacy did get a little shitfaced and he’d be dancing all crazily. Guess the two Leicester siblings have a lot more in common with each other.

“Now darling, what songs get you on your feet?”

“Well, I have always been a fan of Stevie Wonder’s ‘Don’t you worry about a thing’. I guess it’s the Latin vibes he puts into the song. Back then I never believed an artist could take another culture into their music, that’s really what inspired me to get into music in the first place.”

“But we do that too darling remember?”

“Well yes but to be fair the song came out before ‘A Night at the Opera’ when you guys really took in Opera, Folk song, and hard rock.” Freddie shrugged in agreement.

“Okay, so let me hear you sing it.”

“What?”

“You heard me darling.” God he really was persistent.  But there’s no way out of this.  I walked towards the piano and I said as I pointed out to it.

“May I…..”

“Absolutely darling.” I sat down at the bench and had an inner fangirl moment.  Seriously how many people, like me, can say that you’re allowed to play Queen’s tour piano?

I played a couple of keys trying to find the right range I wanted to sing the song in.  Tuning the piano as best I could before I took a deep breath and slowly began playing a ballet like-introduction.  I turned to Fred who came to sit down beside me and he nodded telling me to start singing.

Softly I began singing the first verse of the song.

Play video

Everybody's got a thing But some don't know how to handle it Always reachin' out in vain Just takin' the things not worth having

But don't you worry 'bout a thing Don't you worry 'bout a thing, mama 'Cause I'll be standin' on the side When you check it out

        “Not bad for a ballet introduction to the song, but now really give me that Latin spice you love about the song.”

        “Fred…..”

        “No buts darling, show me those mini-Deacy moves!” he quickly raced over to his record player and took a blank record on it and insert it on the vinyl player and soon a familiar record began playing.

Yes it was like the original Stevie Wonder record but it had a more upbeat rhythm to it.  This was actually a record that I had made around my first year at college for an exam.  The assignment for the final was to take a song and make our own spin to it without fully replicating the song itself.  So I had picked Don’t you worry bout a thing and I managed to get a B+ as the final grade.

“Wait….how did you get this?!” I asked.  “Did you steal this from my record collection!?!”

“You wound me darling of course I didn’t. It was Brian.” I glared at him. “Okay so Rog and I might’ve played it at your house last time you invited us over and he might’ve swiped it secretly so we could listen to it more. But darling this is brilliant and how dare you not share with us that you already made a spin of a fairly good song! So in truth it’s your fault it got borrowed.”

“You guys are gonna give me grey hairs very early.” I muttered.

“Don’t be so dramatic darling. You’re going to be an ageless beauty. Now stand up and give me your best moves. Less you want me to join you!” He pulled me up from the bench and spun me around till once again my back was against his front.

“No! Okay Fred I’ll—I’ll do something. But it’ll be……awkward actually performing my version in front of someone.”

“Little piece of advice for you darling that I once gave Deacy when he first joined Queen, for now pretend I’m not even here. Just allow the music to take control. Perform as you would in your bedroom. There’s no judgement from me.”

He spun me once again so that now I was away from him and he sat down at once of the loveseats near the piano.  As the next verse began to play, I felt the music take over my body as my hips began to slowly shake from side to side and I sung the next verse.

This time feeling a bit more confident as my dancing became ore confident.  I even threw my voice around from upper to lower register on the vocalizations. Swinging my hips, sashaying my shoulders and moving my head around.

They say your style of life's a drag And that you must go other places Just don't you feel too bad When you get fooled by smiling faces

Don't you worry 'bout a thing Don't you worry 'bout a thing, baby 'Cause I'll be standing on the side When you check it out When you get off your trip

Don't you worry 'bout a thing Don't you worry 'bout a thing          My dancing continued to get more passionate as my version of my favorite Stevie Wonder song began to take over me and I really tested my voice to hit the high soprano range I was once praised at during my last few years of secondary school.

        When I reached the vocalization part of it, I just let my voice waver both up and down before finally hitting the highest note I could reach.

Everybody needs a change A chance to check out the new, yeah You're the only one to sees The changes you take yourself through Oh, oh-oh, oh-oh, ooh!

In the future I’ll never know how it happened, but somehow I had managed to break a glass flower vase that sat at the other end of the room.  As soon as we both heard that vase burst, I stopped singing and let out a shriek of fear.

“Oh my god Fred I-I-I-I’m sorry I’ve never once hit that note that high before I didn’t……”

“Seems Rog better watch out, there’s a new dog whistle register in town. And her name is (Y/n) (l/n)!” he jumped up from his seat and twirled me around in his arms.

“Freddie, Freddie put me down!” I laughed out. “So you’re not mad at your broken vase?”

“Oh never mind that darling, I just bought it cause it looked good, what’s really important is those secret pipes of yours that you have been hiding from us! Are you certain you’re not some ethereal being in human form?”

“No Freddie I’m all mortal.”

“Fuck, cause I swear it was really like listening to an angel. And your dancing ugh! Darling those people who call themselves experts especially in the Latin style of dancing better watch out. Both in his generation and in generations to come.”

“Stop it, you’re making me flustered!” I shied away.

“Never darling. I only speak the truth. You’ve got the moves, the talent, the skill, a little more work on the self-confidence and soon enough you’ll be up performing on stage in no time.”

“You really think so?”

“Darling, by the time you reach stardom, Stevie Wonder himself will be calling you up to perform his song with you together. Now what say we keep working on your stage presence?”

“Sure!”

“That’s my rock angel!” after embracing each other tightly, Freddie soon taught me all that he knew about how to command your audience and interact with them.  How to make sure each one of them was just as special as the people in the first 4 rows were.

And how to most of all, have fun on stage.

*FF fall of 1981*

Freddie must’ve been psychic or something because shortly after everyone knew of the Rock Angel, and after fully performing my version of Stevie’s song.  One guest at the part happened to be one of the Saxophone players for Stevie Wonder himself.

On a little show in America known as Saturday Night Live, Stevie Wonder was asked to be the special guest performer but he had asked the show that if it would be okay if two performers could play.  NBC agreed and that’s when I got the call to perform alongside the man himself.

It was in the middle of a live show and I decided that for this special performance, I wanted to fully embrace the Latin vibe this song had.  

So I was wearing a red bodysuit.  It was skin tight and it exposed my stomach in a diamond shape from my ribs to my lower stomach.  The suit was dazzling with sparkles, the sleeves crossed over around my neck in an X and I wore high heeled shoes that were used in Latin dance competitions.

My long hair was volumized and moussed up, and my eyes were given some special red sparkles to make my eyes pop.  It was like I was a full Latin dancer performing on stage.

As I sang the rest of the song, I had finally gotten my whole body into the dancing and I got the audience to sing along to the last part (they had also been clapping along the entire song).  I would occasionally look towards Stevie Wonder at the electric piano, and all he had was a wide smile spread across his face.

At the ‘papa-papa’s’ I soon began to do a Cha-Cha step backwards while having my hands up like I was in a boxing position. I would move my front arm to the beat two times before Cha-Chaing to show my other side and doing the same thing.

The audience was loving it as I made my dancing as sassy as I could, doing the wave with my shoulders and doing that sassy head movement.

Don't you worry 'bout a thing (A-a-ayy) Don't you worry 'bout a thing (A-a-ayy) Don't you worry 'bout a thing (A-a-ayy) Don't you worry 'bout a thing (A-a-ayy)

Oh! Pa-pa-p, pa-pa-pa-pa Pa-pa-pa-pa-pa-pa-pa-pa Pa-pa-p, pa-pa-pa-pa Pa-pa-pa-pa-pa-pa-pa-pa

Don't you worry Don't you worry 'bout a thing, mama

'Cause I'll be standin' (I'll be standin' for you) Ooh, ooh, whoa Don't you worry 'bout a thing!

After hitting out that high note, and throwing my head back striking a pose the entire studio audience, the actors and even some of the stagehands were applauding for me.  Through my heavy breathing, I looked around to see the audience applauding as loudly as they would at a concert arena, I turned to Stevie who clapped along with his backup band and backup singers.

Stevie came down to me and that’s when the guest host came up and closed off the show.

“Stevie Wonder and the rising star of England, (Y/n) (l/n) the Rock Angel! That is it for our show I’m Bernadette Peters, goodnight everyone!” I hugged both Stevie and Bernadette who both congratulated me on a job well done.

*Freddie’s POV*

As the credits rolled on the TV screen, I winked and said.

“That’s my Rock Angel.”

“Not bad for her first TV performance.” Deacy said.

“I just hope she doesn’t fall off the rock wagon and end up as one of those pop divas.” Roger said.

“Oh you rotter, let her be what she wants to be.” I bragged.

“She did phenomenal though. And with Stevie Wonder no less. He’s particularly picky about who sings his songs.” Brian said.

“Indeed.” Another voice spoke up.  We all turned around and coming into the room was his majesty David Bowie. “So….that was the Rock Angel you never cease to stop talking Freddie?” he asked.

“It is indeed. What did you think of her David dear?” I asked.

“She’s talented. Far beyond her years.” He said with a grin.

“She’s our little protégé.” Said Brian.

“Oh no, no, no, no. She’s much too good for you lot.” David teased.

“Boys, we’re ready to continue with the song. David, we can start with your part first.” Said one of the producers peeking into the reck room.  Deacy turned off the telly as David left the room to record our newest song he was working with us on.  All the while, my thoughts kept going back to our special girl who was already making a name for herself since her performance in Madison Square Garden.

My little Rock Angel.  She truly was flying high into the spotlight, and I’m honored that I could help her gain the confidence I knew she had in her.  I knew at this rate, she was only gonna get bigger and bigger.  

And I was gonna be sure to see every achievement she would get because she was my little Rock Angel

[hitsuackerman]

A Different Hashira (Giyu x Reader) pt 5

Here is the part 5 of A Different Hashira

You can click here for part 1 :)

You can click here for part 2 :)

You can click here for part 3 :)

You can click here for part 4 :)

- - - - -

Attempted Conversations

Despite the fact that you failed in extracting knowledge as to what his favorite food was, the two of you still enjoyed the simple lunch of tempura and soba. It was a miracle that you knew just how much spices you needed to put since Giyu had such particular taste.

"Are you in the mood to talk, Tomioka-san?"

"Mhmm."

Taking your eyes off of the tempura, you stared at the messy haired hashira. He was wearing a white undershirt and his pants. Though this time, he was barefoot.

"How was your mission?"

"It was successful. I met up with Kochou and she assisted me." He slurped his soba and proceeded "A dog bit me as well."

"Huh?" Putting your bowl down, you scooted towards him and extended a hand. Half expecting he would reject it.

Staring at you with stuffed cheeks, he placed his chopsticks down and gave you his bandaged hand. Inspecting it a little, you saw the messy of a job was done in wrapping up the injury. Knowing that Shinobu would never make something that horrendous, you could only deduce that it was him who did it.

"This was done... very badly, Tomioka-san."

Taking his hand from yours, he grabbed his chopsticks and continued eating. You sighed and stood up. With big steps, you went to your room and grabbed your first aid box. Though you were not as skilled as Shinobu when it comes to medicine, you were an expert at wrapping bandages. Admittedly, it had been a while since you last bandaged your hand. Hopefully, your hands still remembered what to do.

Seeing you carrying a first aid kit, Giyu stopped eating and waited for you to begin the small procedure.

Carefully unwrapping the bandage, you felt how calloused his fingers were. You didn't know how old he was but your estimation was around 18 or 19 years old. Asking him would be pushing it and he might just stand up and leave you alone.

Seeing that there was a faint bite mark, you couldn't help but giggle at the picture of an emotionless man being bitten by a dog.

"What?"

Your thoughts were cut when his voice cut the silence between you.

"I was just thinking how you looked like when the dog bit you." A smile escaped your mouth. Looking up, you saw him staring at you with such dead pan eyes. He looked annoyed but in reality, he looked like a child. Your smile only grew  even larger causing him to sigh in defeat.

A few minutes passed and you were pleased with your handy work.

"There you go! Much better and definitely cleaner too."

"Thank you."

Crawling your way back to your seat, you picked up your bowl and continued to eat. A slight breeze found it's way to the two of you. Instantly, the two of you relaxed. The two of you had been on long journey's and the breeze was a much needed energy booster.

"Your left palm? What happened?"

"Hmm?" You replied with food in your mouth this time.

"I noticed a healed laceration on it."

"Very observant. Yes, it is a healed laceration. As to how I got it, only time will give you the answer, Tomioka-san."

Now that the two of you finished sharing lunch, Giyu silently offered to wash the dishes once more. Thanking him, you cleaned the table and set it aside. Now that the receiving area was empty, you lazily flopped to the ground and inhaled the fresh air passing through the engawa.

"Care to join me?" You invited Giyu to lay down on the tatami mats.

"No."

"Suit yourself."

Hearing his footsteps go up the stairs, the tranquility was cut by the caws of your raven and his crow. Landing beside you, the two birds looked at each other and nodded.

"(F/N) (L/N) and Giyu Tomioka. Head northwest. Village with reports of demon. Leave tomorrow. " Karasutori announced.

"So much for peace, ey?" You hummed while petting the head of both birds. Both of them responded by bowing their heads even more. Telling them to wait, you went back inside the kitchen and gave them each some bread crumbs. The moment they left, you headed to your room to get ready for the mission to come.

As the sun was setting, you had just finished preparing the necessary items. Hoping that there would be a Wisteria house there, you only brought some bandages and cash. Any more than that would become a hindrance when fighting off demons.

The question now was, which sword you would have to bring with you on the mission. With zero details to go on, it would be a risk to bring a jagged sword. Telling yourself to pay Tecchikawahara a visit, you stored the blue Nichirin blade and brought out the black sheathed one from your closet. Taking a cloth, you wiped off any traces of dust and placed it beside your futon.

Hopefully, this demon would have no need to let you use any breathing techniques. It did cross your mind that this would be the perfect time to show Giyu what kind of pillar you were, but you made a pact with yourself. Only use it in times of need.

Standing up, you changed into your uniform's skirt and a plain white shirt. Too lazy to cook dinner, you headed to the butterfly estate. There you killed time till you fell asleep

- -

Going back to your estate in the early hours of your dawn, you savored the chilly morning breeze accompanied with all of nature's sound. Regretting not bringing along your haori, you walked a pace faster till you saw the familiar building emerge from the wisteria trees. A carving of tidal waves were now visible on the wooden gates.

Opening them, you were greeted with a meditating Giyu with tea cups beside him.

Walking up to him, you sat on the engawa. Your eyes focused on the steaming cup of tea. Sipping on it, you felt energized and ready to start the mission. Comfortable silence engulfed the two of you. Thanking him for the tea, you stood up to ready yourself for the mission.

Moments later, the two of you were now walking towards the Northwestern village.

Inside you, you were dying to initiate conversation. You were so used to having Misturi or Kyojuro talking their hearts out as you headed to your assigned places. The person you were teaming up with gave you nothing but silence. Would he be annoyed if you kept talking about random things till you reached the village? Would an exchange happen? Or just nods and hums? Sulking it up, you began to tread the waters.

"Uh, what kind of demon do you think we'll find?"

"Not sure yet."

"When did you start learning water breathing, Tomioka-san?"

"A few years back."

"What was it like, training with Urokodaki-sensei?"

"Never let him drink alcohol."

"Wait, what?"

You stopped walking as you processed the tidbit of information you had just received. In all your years with Urokodaki, you had never once seen him drink anything other than tea and water. A mental image of him drinking was harder than learning your own 10th form of breathing. Catching up to Giyu, you matched his pace once more.

Regretting that you stopped the momentum of the conversation, you stared at him once more. You noticed how his cheeks were a little bit more fuller. The dark circles around his eyes were still there, though. He had his fair share of sleepless nights, too. Mentally, you took note to buy some lavender to help him get some goodnight's rest.

By the time the two of you arrived in the village, the sun was now setting. Looking for an inn or a Wisteria house, you stumbled upon the latter. The family gladly took the both of you in but only had one room to offer. Graciously accepting it, the two of you sat down on the only futon available and rested your legs after a day's worth of walking.

"Shall we take turns in patrolling the area?" You offered.

"That's fine. Rest for now. I'll start."

Before you could say another word, Giyu vanished. Not bothering to get up, you plopped onto the futon and took a nap. Just as you felt your body give in, there was a knock on the door. You sat yourself up as you told them to enter. Upon seeing their smiling faces, you were greeted with 2 sets of mouth watering food.

With no one else to talk to, you invited the woman to sit down and chat.

"Do you have any idea what kind of demon is running lose?"

"Very faint, but I heard that the demon only eats those in their teens and late twenties. Some people also report that they find large holes around the forest. Holes enough for a full grown person to hide in."

"I see. When was the last time there was a sighting?"

"About 3 days ago. By the ramen shop."

"Around what time? Would you know?"

The girl touched her chin and tried to think about the conversation she had.

"They say it was around 10pm."

"Alright. Thanks for the information, uhh, may I have your name again?" You scratched your head awkwardly at forgetting the name of your host.

"Ayumi." She replied with a smile.

"Thank you, Ayumi-san. You should rest now, I'll be patrolling in a few minutes time."

After you finished eating, she took your set of bowls and dishes. Leaving Giyu's meal in case he would feel hungry when he returns. Laying back down on the futon, you yawned and waited for the return of your partner. You closed your eyes to make use of the time.

You woke up with start when you felt the futon move slightly. Giyu had returned. Examining him, he looked clean and calm, as always.

"Anything happened?" Rubbing your eyes as you asked him.

"None."

"Aight, Imma head out now. You- oh you already ate, good." Standing up, you took your blade and bid farewell.

- - - - -

a/n:

so... this was... yeah xD sorry if this chapter sucks but author-chan still has to build things up a bit ;) doncha worry, there will be action in the next upload. i also hope that ya'll felt that this chapter was quite awkward since its usually awkward around our bibi boi Giyu~ (save if your Tanjirou because, yeah he's who he is 😂 )

Also... I tend to update this late here in tumblr so if you guys want the link to the story :) feel free to message me :D this is actually chapter 5 out of 16 (currently)