#guys is there a name for the four of them.?

[chosok-amo]

THE CLOWN HAS BEEN FOUND s. gojo

★ sum. the baggy clothes, the glasses, the book, the brain— sum : a nerd, that’s what you are. a center of attention, but not because of how beautiful and popular and everyone wants to date you— no, but because you are a loser. and the popular boys have a bet who’s get to sleep with you first and pop the cherry.

warning. college au, ōral ( m & f receiving ), fingēring, dirty talk, hair-pulling, bit name-calling, petnames, praise, cherry pop mentioned, unprotected sēx.

the four of them—geto, gojo, toji, and sukuna—sat sprawled out under the big willow tree on campus, a prime spot they’d claimed as their own. the tree’s branches hung low, providing shade from the afternoon sun, and it seemed to be the perfect place for them to lounge around, their laughter and conversation echoing through the quiet space. they were the popular boys on campus, infamous for their looks, athleticism, and wealth, and equally notorious for their cocky, careless attitudes—a magnetic combination that somehow made them both admired and hated.

they were deep in some joke, laughing obnoxiously, when toji’s gaze drifted, his laughter fading as his eyes settled on something—or rather, someone—in the distance. his smirk widened as he cocked his chin in your direction, his eyes glinting with mischief.

“look at her,” toji muttered, loud enough for the others to hear. the way he said it held a certain bite, like he’d just stumbled upon something amusing.

the other three followed his gaze, their eyes landing on you, sitting off to the side with a thick textbook open in your lap. you were tucked into yourself, shoulders hunched slightly, completely absorbed in whatever you were reading. your clothes were baggy, drowning your frame in layers that did little to give away any shape. the oversized hoodie practically swallowed you, sleeves pulled down almost to your fingertips. your glasses kept sliding down your nose, and every now and then, you��d push them back up absently, clearly too lost in your book to notice much else.

“oh, the classic nerd look,” sukuna sneered, his eyes narrowing as he looked you over, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “cute,” he added mockingly, though there was a glint in his eyes that suggested he found the whole thing entertaining.

gojo let out a low snort, shaking his head as he took a long drag from his cigarette, smoke curling around him in lazy spirals. he leaned forward, one arm bracing against the grass. his eyes still on you, but there was a mocking amusement dancing in them now. he exhaled slowly, a smirk pulling at his lips as he glanced over at sukuna, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

“what’s this, sukuna? into the nerdy type now?” he taunted, tilting his head as he raised an eyebrow. his tone was layered with mockery, his smirk widening as if the very idea was too ridiculous to believe. “thought you had a thing for a girl with big tits.”

sukuna rolled his eyes, but his smirk didn’t waver. “naaah, not my type,” he shot back, his gaze flicking back to you briefly before he shrugged. “just saying she’s… amusing. probably jumps if someone even looks at her.”

“oh, definitely,” geto chimed in with a chuckle, folding his arms as he looked you over with a lazy curiosity. “bet she’s terrified of guys like us.”

toji laughed, shaking his head as he looked back at the others. “please, she’d probably faint if you even said hi.” they all shared a laugh, a mixture of arrogance and amusement, reveling in the thought. to them, you were just another quiet, unassuming girl in a sea of faces, someone they could easily overlook—or mess with, if the mood struck.

gojo snickered. “hell, she probably doesn’t even know we exist,” he taunted, his smirk growing ever more patronizing as he puffed out another plume of smoke. “probably spends her nights in her room, surrounded by books and stuffed animals. bet she’s never even been to a party.”

geto chuckled, leaning back with a mocking smile. “oh please, she’s probably never even been kissed.”

toji smirked, adding to the barrage of mockery. “god, she’s probably never been touched by a guy either, huh?” he chimed in, his words dripping with lewd undertones. he took another drag of his cigarette, then glanced back at you, eyeing you up and down again, his smirk widening into a leering grin. “bet she’s a complete virgin.”

there was a collective burst of laughter from the three of them, their voices loud and harsh in the otherwise peaceful afternoon air.

sukuna, his smirk still firmly in place, leaned back against the tree, his arms crossed. “yeah, she’s probably saving herself for her dream guy,” he added, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “probably wants some perfect fairytale romance. what a joke.”

toji let out a low, dark snicker, his gaze flickering back to you as his smirk widened into something almost predatory. he leaned forward slightly, the cruel glint in his green eyes sharpening as he watched you, completely oblivious to the way they were talking about you.

“oh, please,” he drawled, his tone dripping with mock amusement. “give me an hour with her, and i’d pop that cherry first,” he said, his scarred lips twisting into a wider smirk, a glimmer of cruelty evident in his gaze.

the other guys laughed again, their voices mingling in the harsh, arrogant way only they could manage. for them, it was a game—a chance to mock and taunt someone so outside their world.

geto snort, “yeah, right.”

gojo chuckled, his smirk widening as he took another casual drag from his cigarette, shaking his head at toji’s words. “big talk, man. you are too scary, let me take the ‘pop’,” he said, his voice laced with a mischievousness.

sukuna let out another sharp huff of laughter, his gaze trailing over you disdainfully, his smirk a mix of mockery and condescension. “yeah, good luck with that,” he snorted, rolling his eyes. “bet she’d faint if you even came close to her.”

but toji didn’t seem worried, his smirk only growing wider, a cruel gleam in his eyes as he continued watching you, a dark challenge present in his expression.

“oh, i’d get her,” he said, his voice oozing a dangerous sort of confidence. his eyes darkened, his smirk turning almost feral as he looked down at his hands, flexing his fingers idly.

“she wouldn’t even know what hit her.”

sukuna raised an eyebrow, a wicked grin spreading across his face as he leaned in, matching toji’s dark energy with a glint of excitement in his own crimson eyes. he crossed his arms, tilting his head with a look that practically dared the others to take him up on his idea.

“let’s make it interesting, boys,” sukuna drawled, his tone laced with twisted amusement. “how about a little wager? who’s gonna get to pop the cherry first?”

the idea hung in the air, laced with a sense of cruel playfulness. the others exchanged looks, smirks widening as they took in the challenge, their gazes flickering back to you as you remained completely unaware, hidden in your book and blissfully out of earshot.

gojo’s smirk only widened, his eyes narrowing slightly as he considered the idea. he took another puff from his cigarette, eyeing sukuna with amusement, clearly intrigued by the proposal. “a wager?” he asked, his voice tinted with a hint of curiosity. “what’s the prize?”

geto chuckled, the idea clearly appealing to him as well. he leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees as he chimed in. “i’m in,” he said, his smirk mirroring the others.

sukuna shrugged, an amused gleam flashing through his crimson eyes as he glanced over at you, still utterly engrossed in your book and completely unaware of the bet unfolding among the boys. his smirk deepened as he looked back at the others, his tone casual yet laced with dark amusement.

“anything you want,” he replied smoothly, as if it was the simplest thing in the world. he paused, his gaze flickering back to you for a brief moment before adding, “but there’s one condition—whoever wins has to take a photo as proof.”

the challenge hung heavy in the air, each of them exchanging glances, their smirks widening in unison. the thought of the twisted little game gave them all a sense of cruel excitement, feeding their arrogant thrill as they eyed you once more, already imagining how they’d play this out.

gojo let out a low snort, his smirk growing into a smirk of his own. he took another draw on his cigarette before tilting his head slightly, his expression shifting into one of agreement. “deal.” he said, his tone laced with a hint of determination.

geto chuckled softly, his eyes flickering to you once more before he nodded his agreement. “i’m in,” he added, his smirk mirrorring the others, clearly liking the idea of the bet.

toji chuckled, a cruel gleam appearing in his green eyes as he looked at the others, the idea of the bet stirring something wicked inside of him. he leaned back, his smirk growing wider as he nodded. “i’m in,” he echoed, his voice lower than before, filled with an almost excited tension.

it had been a strange week, to say the least. the four most popular boys on campus—geto, sukuna, toji, and especially gojo—had suddenly taken an interest in you, a stark contrast to the way they’d mostly ignored you before. they’d pop up in places they normally wouldn’t be, go out of their way to hold doors open or throw you playful smiles, and act… almost charming. but you weren’t buying it, especially not gojo’s relentless attempts to convince you to tutor him. every time he begged for your help, you’d shut him down without a second thought.

today was no different. you were tucked away in a quiet corner of the library, lost in your studies, when you heard the sound of a chair being pulled out beside you. you didn’t even need to look up to know who it was. with a heavy sigh, you rolled your eyes and refocused on your notes, determined to ignore him.

“oh, come on,” gojo drawled, leaning in close with a pout as he rested his elbows on the table, clearly unfazed by your cold response. “i really need help, you know. i’m hopeless without you.” his tone was dripping with exaggerated desperation, but there was a playful glint in his eyes as he watched for any reaction.

you kept your gaze fixed on your book, trying to block him out. “then maybe you should try actually paying attention in class,” you muttered, flipping a page, hoping he’d take the hint and leave you alone.

but gojo just leaned closer, his voice dropping to a softer, almost persuasive tone. “come on, i’ll owe you one. just one study session. i’ll even buy you coffee,” he offered, flashing you his signature charming smile, like he thought that was all it would take to wear you down.

“not interested,” you replied flatly, turning another page without looking up. you could feel his gaze on you, persistent as ever, but you were determined not to give him the satisfaction.

gojo’s smirk widened, his eyes narrowing slightly. he leaned even closer, his lips almost at your ear, as if daring you to ignore him. “come on, please?” he begged again, his tone dripping with fake desperation, his voice low and tantalizingly close. “just one little tutoring session. i’ll do anything.”

you froze, your pen pausing mid-word as the warmth of gojo’s hand slid down to your thigh, his fingers grazing just under the hem of your skirt. his touch was light, teasing, and you could feel your heart race at the audacity of his move. irritation flared within you, but when you turned to him, ready to give him a piece of your mind, you were met with that damn smirk of his—a look of pure, unbothered confidence.

his face was so close that you could feel his breath, warm and steady, as he whispered, “please?”

his voice was soft, almost seductive, and despite the irritation simmering beneath your calm facade, you could see the glint of amusement in his narrowed blue eyes, fully aware of the effect he was trying to have on you. your eyes narrowed, meeting his challenge, and you gave him a cold, leveled stare, unfazed by his proximity.

you lifted a brow, voice cool as ice. “is this your idea of begging, gojo?”

his smirk didn’t waver; if anything, it grew wider, clearly thrilled by your reaction. “i can be very persuasive,” he murmured, letting his fingers ghost over your thigh, just enough to keep your attention.

he leaned in even closer, his smirk widening further. his lips grazed your ear as he spoke again, his voice low and smooth, like silk. “and i can be very convincing,” he whispered, his hand sliding further up your thigh, leaving a trail of heated tingles in its wake.

you inhaled sharply, his breath hot against your skin as his words lingered in your ear, and you could feel your resolve slipping, his touch relentless and daring as his hand slid further up your thigh. the warmth of his fingers, the confidence in his voice—it was infuriatingly hard to ignore, and you could tell he knew it, that smirk of his only growing as he watched your reaction.

you turned to him, catching his gaze, meeting his smug look with one of quiet defiance. the words were barely a whisper as you muttered, “fine.”

his eyes lit up, triumphant, as if he’d known all along you’d give in, but you held his gaze steadily, a hint of warning still lingering there. “just one session,” you clarified, your voice firm, trying to reassert control even as you felt a flicker of warmth in your cheeks.

gojo’s smirk deepened, seemingly satisfied with your response. his hand paused, still resting on your thigh, his fingers gently caressing the soft skin, sending chills through your body.

“just one, huh?” he echoed, his voice low, thick with satisfaction. he leaned in closer, his breath hot on your neck, his lips practically grazing your skin as he spoke again. “don’t worry, i’ll make it count.”

he paused, his fingers tracing small, slow circles on your thigh, the gesture almost innocent, yet the meaning behind it clear. he looked at you, his gaze almost challenging, a hint of satisfaction in his eyes as he noticed your slight shiver at his touch. he leaned in further, his voice dropping to a low murmur.

“my place or yours?” he purred, his tone dripping with suggestion, his hand gradually making its way higher up your leg.

and that’s where you are . . .

gojo smirks down at you, his eyes roaming over your nerdy appearance hungrily, knees on the floor inside his dorm room. “thanks for coming to tutor me today. i really appreciate it,” his voice drips with false sincerity as he palms himself through his jeans.

“i’ve been struggling with this subject and i’ve heard you’re the best at explaining things.” gojo leans back on his hands, spreading his legs wider to give you an even better view of the bulge straining against his zipper. “why don’t you come closer and we can start going over the material? i’m all yours, baby.” his thumb pinch your chin, the soft pad of his finger trailing off your skin before slipping past your swollen lips into your mouth.

he chuckles softly, a wicked glint in his eye as he watches you squirm. “aww, what’s wrong? you look nervous. there’s no need to be shy around me.”

you swallow hard, your heart pounding in my chest as you kneel before gojo, feeling small and insignificant compared to his tall, muscular frame. your glasses slip down your nose slightly as you gaze up at him with wide, innocent eyes.

“oh, um, t-thank you gojo-kun,” you stammer out, your voice quivering slightly. you shift nervously on your knees, very aware of how vulnerable your position makes you feel. and when gojo’s thumb pushes past your lips, you instinctively close your mouth around it, sucking lightly from habit before realizing what you were doing. a deep blush spreads across your cheeks.

“i’m just a bit overwhelmed, to be honest,” you managed to murmur, voice muffled by his thumb.

gojo’s smirk widens as he feels your warm, wet mouth envelop his thumb. he slowly pumps the digit in and out, mimicking a lewd act. “mmm, don’t be like that, cutie. i promise i won’t bite... much.” he winks salaciously.

his free hand reaches out to cup your burning cheek, calloused fingers brushing over the delicate skin. “you’re so cute when you’re flustered like this. it’s adorable how innocent you are.” gojo leans in closer, his hot breath fanning over your face. the musky scent of his arousal fills your nostrils.

“tell you what, why don’t you put that clever tongue of yours to good use and help me relax a bit before we dive into studying?” his thumb presses deeper into your mouth insistently.

you whimper softly as gojo’s thumb invades your mouth more insistently, your tongue automatically swirling around the invading digit. your mind races, trying to process the sudden intimate contact and the heavy implication behind his words.

“i’m not sure if this is appropriate, gojo-kun,” you manage to say around his thumb after pulling back slightly, your voice muffled. “we should focus on the tutoring session...”

despite your weak protests, you can feel your body reacting to gojo’s proximity and touch— a traitorous heat pooling low in your belly, your cunt starting to clenching around nothing in your skirt. you squirm uncomfortably on your knees, hyper-aware of your submissive posture before him.

“what exactly did you have in mind?”

gojo chuckles darkly, amused by your feeble attempt at protest. he grips your hair, tugging your head back to expose the slender column of your throat. “oh, i think we both know this is exactly what we came here for, isn’t it?”

his other hand moves to palm his aching erection through his jeans, the thick outline unmistakable. “i had something much more... educational in mind than boring textbooks.”

gojo leans in, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he whispers huskily, “why don’t you be a good girl and put those pretty lips to work? show me what that smart mouth of yours can do besides spouting facts.” he uses his grip on your hair to guide your face towards his crotch, rubbing your cheek against the prominent bulge.

gojo groans softly as he feels your soft cheek pressed against his throbbing erection. he grinds subtly against you, seeking more friction. “fuuuck, you feel so good already. i bet these nerdy little lips will wrap around my cock perfectly.”

with his other hand, he starts unbuckling his belt, the metallic clink seeming obscenely loud in the quiet room. he pops the button of his jeans and slowly drags down the zipper, letting them gape open to reveal the waistband of his boxers straining over his massive bulge.

“gonna ruin you for anyone else,” gojo growls possessively. “by the time ’m done with you, the only thing you’ll be able to think about is choking on my dick.”

the idea was overwhelming— the thought of ruining you and winning the bet performed a cloud in gojo’s head. you gasp sharply as gojo forces your face against his clothed erection, the heat and hardness searing into your cheek. your eyes widen at his crude words, a shiver running down your spine— equal parts fear and reluctant excitement.

“g-gojo-kun, please...” you whimper, your voice high and thready. “we shouldn’t... i-i’ve never...”

despite your halfhearted protests, you find yourself leaning into his touch, nuzzling almost imperceptibly against the thick ridge of his cock. the scent of his arousal is dizzying this close, musk and sweat and pure male essence flooding your senses. trembling fingers come up to tentatively brush against his hipbones as his zipper lowers with agonizing slowness.

gojo smirks cruelly as he hears the tremor in your voice, relishing how easily he can affect you. “shh, it’s okay baby. i’ll teach you everything you need to know,” he croons mockingly.

he hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his boxers and slowly peels them down, freeing his enormous, rock-hard cock. it springs out, slapping against your cheek with a meaty thwack. the thick shaft pulses with need, the flared head an angry purple and leaking copious amounts of precum.

you let out a choked moan as gojo’s huge, throbbing cock slaps against your cheek, leaving a smear of sticky pre-cum on your soft skin. your eyes widen in shock at the sheer size of him, intimidated but undeniably aroused.

“open wide, nerd. i’ve got a big load for you,” gojo taunts crudely. he fists his hand in your hair again, using his grip to angle your face towards his weeping cockhead. “stick out that clever little tongue. i want to see you worship every inch of my big, fat cock like the desperate slut you are.”

“oh god...” you whimper, your tongue darting out to unconsciously lick your lips. the salty-sweet taste of his essence explodes across your taste buds, making your head spin. with trembling hands, you reach up to grasp his muscular thighs for support as he forces your face closer to his imposing manhood. your glasses fog up slightly from your quickened breathing. “i’ve never done this before,” you admit in a tiny, scared voice.

gojo grins wickedly, his eyes gleaming with sadistic lust as he sees the fear and reluctant desire warring in your expression. “that’s alright, that’s why i’m here, you’re about to get the fucking of a lifetime to your virgin pussy,” he grunted.

he rubs the swollen head of his cock all over your face, smearing your cheeks and lips with his slick precum. the musky scent fills your nostrils, making your head swim with overwhelming pheromones. “open up, baby, take my cock like a good girl. promise it feels good, do you trust me?” sweet, his honeyed voice suddenly heavy with sweetness.

but despite that, he thrusts his hips forward, pushing the broad tip past your lips and onto your tongue. he groans at the wet heat engulfing him, head just a beat throw back before snapped, eyes lock with your lips taking the half of his cock. “fuck yes, that’s it. wrap those pretty lips around me.”

you let out a muffled yelp as gojo suddenly pushes past your lips, his thick cock stretching your jaw painfully wide you almost sure the edge of your lips stretch open. your eyes water as he hilts himself inside your virgin mouth, the bulbous head hitting the back of your throat. you gag reflexively, throat spasming around his girth.

“mph!” you try to pull back but his grip on your hair tightens, holding you in place. tears leak from the corners of your eyes as you struggle to accommodate his impressive size. your small hands come up to weakly push at his thighs, overwhelmed by the intrusion.

after a moment, you force yourself to relax your jaw, breathing heavily through your nose. you start to experimentally suckle at the head, your tongue swirling clumsily around it. the taste of his skin and the musky scent flooding your senses is dizzying.

gojo throws his head back with a deep groan as your inexperienced mouth envelops him, your tongue clumsily lapping at his sensitive flesh. the sight of your stretched lips wrapped around his thick cock, tears glistening on your flushed cheeks, is incredibly erotic.

“that’s it, take it deeper,” he growls, fisting his hand tighter in your hair. with a sharp thrust of his hips, he buries himself to the hilt in your convulsing throat. your nose presses against his pelvis as he hilts inside you, cutting off your air supply completely.

“that’s good baby, goood job,” praise after praise fallen from gojo’s pretty, pink lips. he holds you there, savoring the feeling of your constricting esophagus fluttering around his cock. after several long seconds, he finally pulls back, allowing you a gasping breath before plunging in again.

gojo sets a brutal pace, fucking your face with deep, powerful thrusts. each snap of his hips drives his thick cock into your throat, forcing you to swallow around him. drool escapes the corners of your stretched lips, dripping down your chin as he uses your mouth mercilessly.

“you’re doing so well for your first time,” he praises mockingly, voice strained with pleasure. “such an eager little cock sleeve, aren’t you? born to choke on a cock.” he pulls out abruptly, his spit-shined cock bobbing obscenely in front of your face. gojo smacks the heavy shaft against your tear-stained cheeks, smearing them with your own saliva mixed with his precum. “strip,” he commands gruffly, releasing his grip on your hair.

gojo looms over you, his chest heaving with exertion and arousal as he watches you intently. his eyes rake over your disheveled form, drinking in the sight of your reddened cheeks, puffy lips glistening with spit, and the way your glasses sit askew on your face.

“come on, slowpoke. i want to see every inch of the body hiding under those ugly clothes,” he growls impatiently, one hand coming down to roughly palm himself through his open fly. the other reaches out to grab the hem of your shirt, tugging insistently. but, instead of slipping out of your ‘ugly’ clothes, you stand there, eyes widened innocently the way you look up to him.

“don’t make me rip them off. you wouldn’t want me to damage your precious belongings, would ya?“ a wicked smirk plays at the corner of his mouth, eyes glinting with mischief and barely restrained hunger.

you tremble under gojo’s hungry gaze, acutely aware of how debauched you must look— face flushed, glasses fogged, lips swollen and slick with spit. with shaking hands, you reach for the buttons of your shirt, fumbling to undo them one by one.

as more of your creamy skin is revealed, gojo’s eyes darken with undisguised lust. he licks his lips, watching avidly as you shrug the garment off your shoulders and let it fall to the floor. underneath, you wear a plain white lacy bra, the fabric straining slightly over your bust.

next, you stand on wobbly legs to shimmy out of your skirt, letting it pool around your ankles before stepping out of it. your panties match your bra, simple cotton with lace. “gojo-kun..” you murmur, hands hovering over your bra and panties, hiding yourself.

gojo’s heated gaze roams hungrily over your newly exposed body, lingering on the swell of your breasts straining against the delicate lace of your bra. he steps closer, crowding into your personal space until the hard planes of his body press against your softer curves.

“fuck, you’re even hotter than i imagined,” he rasps, calloused fingers trailing up your sides to cup your tits possessively. never in a million years had he found a loser nerd like you could be this hot, and it seems like his cock agrees with the way it’s twitching. he squeezes the soft mounds, thumbs flicking over your nipples through the thin fabric until they pebble beneath his touch, pushing a breathless gasp out of your throat.

with a wicked grin, gojo reaches behind you and deftly unclasps your bra, tossing it aside carelessly. cool air hits your bare skin, pebbling your nipples further as they’re bared to his intense scrutiny.

“perfect.”

gojo hooks his fingers in the waistband of your panties and yanks them down your thighs in one swift motion. the flimsy material catches on your knees briefly before falling to your ankles, baring you completely to his hungry gaze.

he takes a step back, drinking in the sight of your naked body with an appreciative hum. his eyes linger on the cute, neat patch of curls crowning your mound, the slight flare of your hips, the gentle swell of your ass. “goddamn, you’re gorgeous,” he murmurs reverently.

without warning, gojo drops to his knees in front of you, large hands gripping your thighs to spread them apart. he leans in close, his hot breath ghosting over your most intimate parts. “i bet this sweet cunt tastes divine,” he growls, dragging his tongue along your slit in one long, painfully slow stroke.

you can’t help but let out a startled moan as gojo’s warm tongue drags along your most intimate folds, sending sparks of pleasure racing up your spine. your knees buckle slightly and you have to brace yourself against the wall to keep from collapsing under the intensity of sensation.

“g-gojo-kun!” you gasp, fingers tangling in his silver hair as he laps at your slit like a man starved. his tongue delves between your lower lips, seeking out your entrance and circling it teasingly. you squirm against the invasion, thighs trembling with the effort to hold still.

gojo chuckles lowly, the vibrations making you shudder. he seals his lips around your clit and sucks hard, flicking the sensitive bud with the tip of his tongue. “ah! ahh!”

gojo moans into your pussy as you grind against his face, his tongue delving deep inside your fluttering walls. he laps at your juices greedily, the obscene slurping sounds filling the room. “mmm, you taste even better than i imagined,” he growls, the rumble of his voice vibrating against your sensitive flesh. “so fucking sweet.”

his hands grip your ass, kneading the supple globes as he eats you out with single-minded focus. he alternates between thrusting his tongue in and out of your clenching hole and flicking the tip rapidly over your throbbing clit. the lewd wet noises echo off the walls, mingling with your needy whimpers and gasps.

“oooh! m-my god!” you writhe helplessly against gojo’s relentless assault, fingers digging into his silver hair as waves of overwhelming pleasure crash over you. your hips undulate shamelessly, grinding your aching core against his face as he devours you like a man possessed.

“that’s it, ride my tongue,” he grunt, the words muffled against your soaked folds. you throw your head back with a keening cry as gojo works you over with his skilled tongue, pleasure coiling tighter and tighter in your core. your fingers tighten reflexively in his hair, tugging sharply at the silvery strands.

“ah! g-gojo-kun!” you gasp brokenly, toes curling against the cool tile floor. your inner muscles flutter wildly around his invading tongue.

gojo growls into your pussy, the sound sending delicious vibrations through your core. he doubles his efforts, sealing his lips around your clit and sucking hard while simultaneously thrusting two thick fingers knuckle-deep into your spasming channel.

“g-gojo-hng!” you sob brokenly, hips continue to roll shamelessly against his face. you mewl helplessly into the filthy kiss, when gojo’s tongue dominating yours as he claims your mouth thoroughly after he stands abruptly.

you can taste yourself on him, the musky flavor making your head spin with renewed arousal and it sends a fresh wave of heat flooding through your veins. his hand slides up to palm your breast roughly, calloused thumb scraping over your sensitive nipple.

when he finally breaks away, you’re left panting and dazed, lips kiss-swollen and tingling. gojo grins wolfishly down at you, pupils blown wide with lust. “god, so fucking beautiful when i’m ’bout to ruin you,” he promises darkly, voice rough with desire. “by the time i’m done, all you’ll be able to think about is my cock splitting you open."

his hand slides down your body to grip your thigh, hoisting your leg up to wrap around his hip. the new position leaves you feeling deliciously vulnerable, your slick folds rubbing directly against the rigid length of him.

gojo’s heated gaze rakes over your flushed form, drinking in every inch of newly exposed skin. he licks his lips slowly, savoring the taste of your essence still coating his tongue. “fuck, you look good enough to eat,” he growls appreciatively, palming himself once again, smearing his precum all over your thigh, the biting lips to stop the moaning betraying his own desperate arousal.

with a few quick movements, gojo shucks off his shirt, revealing the lean lines of his torso. his pale skin is littered nothing but softness. he kicks off his pants next, leaving him fully naked now.

slowly, torturously, gojo sinks into your welcoming heat inch by excruciating inch. gojo grunts as your slick folds slide along his shaft, coating him in your essence. your slick walls stretch deliciously around his girth, molding to every ridge and vein. by the time he’s fully seated, you feel impossibly full, stuffed to the brim with hard, throbbing cock.

“fuuck!” he snarls, eyes squeezing shut at the exquisite sensation of your velvety walls gripping him like a vice. he holds himself there for a moment, letting you adjust to the sudden intrusion. “p-pussy sooo-shit! good.” the feeling of your gummy walls suffocating his cock almost making gojo’s feel bad for using you as a bet, but fuckkk! you feel so good.

you let out a strangled moan as gojo hilts himself fully inside you, stretching you wider than ever before. your slick walls flutter and clench around his thickness, trying instinctively to accommodate the sudden intrusion. the sensation borders on painful but the dull ache only serves to heighten your pleasure, stoking the flames of your arousal higher.

“ah! s-so biiig,” you whimper breathlessly, fingernails raking down gojo’s back. your hips twitch restlessly, torn between the urge to pull away from the intense stretch and the primal need to take him deeper. gojo groans at the feeling of your scorching heat enveloping him so completely. his pelvis presses flush against yours, ensuring that not an inch of space remains between your bodies.

gojo once again, groans deeply as your velvety walls ripple along his length, the exquisite sensations threatening to undo his control. he wants nothing more than to rut into you mindlessly, chasing his own pleasure. but he forces himself to hold still, giving you time to adjust to his size.

“shit baby, you feel incredible,” he rasps, voice strained with barely restrained lust. “so fucking tight...” he rolls his hips experimentally, pulling out just an inch before sinking back in. the drag of his thick cock against your sensitive nerves makes you both gasp. gojo sets a slow, deep rhythm, letting you feel every inch of him as he strokes your inner walls. his hands roam your curves possessively, mapping out the dips and swells of your body.

you arch into gojo’s touch, craving more of his addictive caresses. your nails score down his back, leaving red welts in their wake. the sting only seems to spur him on, his thrusts growing harder and faster as he chases his own pleasure.

“too muuuch,” you cry, tossing your head back as he hits a particularly sensitive spot. your legs wrap around his waist, heels digging into the small of his back to urge him deeper. “hurt, ah! too big.”

gojo snarls, the sound feral and hungry. he leans down to capture one pert nipple between his teeth, biting down just shy of too hard. you yelp at the sharp jolt of pain, cunt clenching rhythmically around his pistoning length.

gojo grunts as your inner walls clamp down around him like a vice, the added pressure sending sparks of pleasure shooting up his spine. he knows he should probably slow down, give you time to adjust, but the way you’re writhing beneath him is just too enticing.

“you can take it,” he growls, punctuating his words with a particularly brutal thrust.

once again, gojo snarls against your breast, tongue flicking out to lave over the abused bud. “don’t worry baby, i’ll make it feel real good,” he promises, harmonizing his words with a particularly vicious thrust. the blunt head of his cock kisses your cervix, making you see stars.

your slick walls spasm wildly around his girth, fluttering and clenching as if trying to push him out even as your body betrays you, hips rolling shamelessly to meet each punishing stroke. the wet slap of flesh echoes obscenely in the room, mingling with your wanton moans and gojo’s animalistic grunts.

gojo lets out a low groan, eyes fluttering shut as your slick walls ripple around his thickness. “fuck, your pussy is milking my cock so good,” he grunts, hips snapping forward almost violently. one large hand snakes between your bodies, fingers finding your swollen clit and rubbing tight circles around the sensitive bud. “come on, baby. squeeze this cock just like that,” gojo urges gruffly, increasing the pressure on your clit. “gonna fill this pretty cunt up real soon.”

you throw your head back with a guttural moan, fingers tangling in gojo’s hair as he works you closer to the edge. your thighs tremble, muscles quivering with the strain of holding yourself open for his relentless assault. sweat beads along your brow, plastering strands of hair to your face.

“please,” you keen desperately, unsure what exactly you’re begging for anymore. more? less? harder? faster? all you know is that yo’'re teetering right on the precipice, balanced precariously between agony and ecstasy.

gojo grins wickedly, sensing your desperation. he leans in close, hot breath ghosting over the shell of your ear as he whispers filthy promises. “that’s it, cum for me baby. gonna pump you so full of my seed, you’ll be dripping for days.”

but before you reach that peak, that climax you desperately need, gojo abruptly stops moving. hands trailing down your tights before throwing your body to his bed. a gasp of surprise tears from your throat, followed by a whimper— a subtle sign of protest.

gojo chuckles darkly, reveling in the delicious sight of you sprawled out before him, flushed and panting. he takes a moment to admire the view— your chest heaving, breasts bouncing with each labored breath, the glistening evidence of your arousal painting your inner thighs.

gojo smirks down at you, taking in your confused expression with a glint of mischief in his eyes. he trails a finger down your sternum, circling one dusky nipple teasingly for a second. “what’s wrong, baby?” he coos mockingly. “didn’t get your fix?”

he shifts slightly, the movement causing his half-hard cock to brush against your thigh. you shudder at the contact, a fresh wave of arousal flooding through you. gojo hums approvingly at your reaction, leaning down to nip at your jaw.

“mmm, look at you,” he purrs approvingly, trailing a finger through your slick folds. “all spread out and ready for me. such a goood girl.” without warning, gojo flips you onto your stomach, hauling your hips up until you’re presenting yourself to him like a bitch in heat. he runs a proprietary hand over the curve of your ass, squeezing roughly. “this ass though... fuck, i could play with it all day.”

gojo’s eyes rake over your prone form appreciatively, drinking in the delectable sight of you splayed out before him. he takes his time exploring your curves, fingers tracing idle patterns across your skin. when he reaches the swell of your rear, he gives the supple flesh a firm squeeze, kneading the plush globes like dough. this might be the first and the last time he has you in his bed, might make it memorable.

“such a perfect little peach,” he praises huskily, spreading you wide to expose your most intimate parts. cool air wafts over your heated flesh, making you shiver. gojo hums in approval at the sight of your dripping cunt, flushed and swollen with need.

he leans in close, hot breath ghosting over your sensitive skin. “look how wet you are for me,” he murmurs, voice dripping with smug satisfaction. you let out a soft moan, squirming under gojo’s intense gaze. his rough hands map out every dip and curve of your body, igniting sparks of pleasure wherever they touch. you arch into his caress, silently begging for more.

when he finally reaches your aching core, you buck your hips eagerly, desperate for friction. “please,” you whimper, voice high and needy. “i need—”

gojo cuts off your pleas with a sharp smack to your rear, the stinging impact making you yelp. “ah ah, none of that now,” he tuts disapprovingly. “you don’t get to tell me what you need, understand? it’s an honor y’know, for me to take your virginity, so you don’t get to tell me what you need.”

he punctuates his words with another firm swat, watching with rapt attention as your skin blooms pink under his palm. but even so, gojo couldn’t stop the spinning from his head, the sigh of you, the feel of your cunt tightly grip his needy cock making him all desperate and losing his shit to you, a fucking nerd all out of other girl.

gojo grins wickedly, clearly enjoying your predicament. he traces a finger through your soaked folds, gathering some of your essence on his digit before bringing it to his lips. he makes a show of licking it clean, savoring your unique flavor with a satisfied hum.

“mmm, you taste divine,” he purrs, voice dripping with lust. “like the finest nectar.”

gojo lines himself up with your entrance once more, the broad head of his cock nudging insistently at your slick opening. he teases you with shallow thrusts, barely breaching your entrance before pulling away again. your walls flutter around nothing, trying desperately to draw him in deeper.

“beg for it,” he demands huskily, giving your rear another firm smack. “let me hear how badly you want this cock.“ he grabs your hip, fingers bent to your flesh the way he drags you to the edge of his bed and your feet touching the cold tile.

his one arm sneaking down to your thigh, lifting it off the floor while the other hand relentlessly teases your needy cunt with the swollen tip of his cock— kissing your clit.

you writhe beneath gojo’s ministrations, a litany of needy whimpers and pleas falling from your kiss-swollen lips. “please,” you beg shamelessly, too far gone to care about dignity. “gojo-kuuunn . . i need you inside me, filling me up. i can’t take it anymore!”

your hips buck frantically, seeking friction against his maddening teasing. you’re so empty, aching to be stretched and filled by his thick length. gojo just chuckles darkly at your desperation, continuing his torturous game. his chest raining with pride and happiness for taking your virginity, him, not another man. him.

“oh? and why should i give you what you want?” he taunts, rubbing the tip of his cock against your entrance without pushing in. “maybe i like seeing you like this— alllll spread out and begging so pretty for me.”

gojo leans in, his lips brushing against yours in a brief, teasing kiss. “you taste sweet when you’re desperate like this,” he murmurs against your mouth, tongue flicking out to lick at your lower lip. “makes me want to devour you whole.”

he pulls back slightly, his gaze intense as he watches your reactions. “but since you asked so nicely...” with a slow, deliberate push, he sinks into your heat, groaning at the velvety tightness enveloping his cock.

gojo pauses for a moment, savoring the feeling of being buried deep within you. then, with a gentle roll of his hips, he begins to move, setting a slow, sensual rhythm. he savors each drag of your slick walls along his shaft, relishing in the exquisite sensation of taking your virginity. his hand leaving another handprint on your ass, digging his dull nail into the skin.

a gasp tears from your throat as gojo finally sheathes himself fully inside you, the stretch both painful and exhilarating. you cling to the sheets, nails digging into the fabric as you acclimate to the foreign intrusion.

but as he starts to move, long, languid strokes that fill you to the brim, you begin to relax into the pleasure. a low moan escapes you, vibrations humming against gojo’s lips before your head falls to his bed. “ahh... yes... just like thaaat...”

your hips start to rock in tandem with his, meeting each thrust with eagerness. the sensations build rapidly, coiling tighter and tighter in your belly. you can feel every ridge and vein of gojo’s cock as it slides against your inner walls, sending jolts of electric pleasure through you.

“more,” you breathe out, voice ragged with need, causing the man to leave your reddened ass to find your hair and take a fistful of the locks while the other arm tightens around your thigh, making a perfect symphony the way he pounds into you from behind.

gojo’s fingers dig into your scalp, tugging roughly at your hair as he pistons into you with reckless abandon. the bed creaks and shifts beneath the force of his thrusts, a rhythmic beat that echoes the pounding of your hearts.

gojo growls in approval, the sound muffled against your ear as he buries his face in the crook of your neck. his hips snap forward with renewed vigor, driving into you with a primal intensity that steals your breath away. the force of his thrusts sends the headboard thudding against the wall, a rhythmic beat that echoes the pounding of your heart.

“you’re so fucking tight,” he grits out between clenched teeth, his grip on your hair tightening almost painfully as he uses it to pull your head back, exposing the vulnerable column of your throat. “i can feel every inch of you milking my cock. this cunt feels like heaven, fuuuck.”

gojo’s words are punctuated by the lewd slap of skin against skin, the obscene sound only serving to heighten your arousal. his fingers tighten in your hair, tugging just hard enough to make you gasp. the slight sting only serves to heighten your arousal, your body craving more of his dominance. gojo's other hand grips your thigh firmly, holding you steady as he pistons in and out of you with relentless precision.

your mind goes blank, overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of gojo’s possession. every nerve ending is alight with sensation, each thrust sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your veins. you can feel yourself teetering on the brink, precariously close to the edge.

a hoarse cry spills from your lips as gojo hits that spot deep inside, the sensitive bundle of nerves that makes your vision blur and toes curl. “ahhh! oh god, right there!” you wail, hips bucking wildly to meet his punishing pace.

a sharp cry tears from your throat as gojo’s grip on your hair intensifies, the pain mixing deliciously with the overwhelming pleasure coursing through your veins. you arch your back, offering yourself up completely to his dominating touch.

“yes, oh god, just like that!” you moan, the words tumbling out in a desperate rush. “fuck me harder, gojo-kun!”

gojo’s eyes flash with triumph and possessiveness at your wanton cries, his grip on your hair and thigh tightening reflexively. he slams into you with renewed ferocity, the force of his thrusts rattling the bed frame and sending the headboard crashing against the wall.

“that’s it, scream for me,” he snarls, his hot breath fanning over your ear as he leans in close. “let everyone know who’s fucking you senseless.” gojo’s free hand snakes around to cup your breast, pinching and rolling the nipple between his fingers. the dual sensations of his ruthless pounding and the pleasurable tug on your sensitive bud send you spiraling closer to the edge.

as if sensing your impending climax, gojo redoubles his efforts, pistoning into you with wild abandon. your world narrows down to the searing heat of gojo’s body, the relentless thrusts of his cock, and the intoxicating scent of sex that fills the air. you’re lost in a haze of pure, unadulterated pleasure, every fiber of your being focused on chasing that elusive peak.

the pressure builds and builds, coiling tighter in your core until you think you might burst. gojo’s harsh commands and the brutal pace of his fucking only serve to heighten the tension, pushing you closer and closer to the brink.

with a keening wail, you finally tumble over the edge, your orgasm slamming into you like a freight train. your inner walls clench around gojo’s throbbing cock, rippling and fluttering as wave after wave of ecstasy crashes over you.

“fuck, fuuck! gojo-kun! ’m cumming, cumming!”

gojo lets out a guttural roar as he feels your pussy clamping down on his cock, the vice-like grip triggering his own release. with one final, brutal thrust, he buries himself to the hilt inside you, his seed erupting in powerful spurts as he fills you up.

“fuck, fuck, fuck!” he chants, his hips jerking erratically as he rides out the waves of his climax. his hips jerking erratically as he rides out the waves of his climax. gojo’s grip on your hair and thigh remains unrelenting, holding you in place as he marks you as his, claiming you utterly and completely.

overwhelmed by the intensity of your shared orgasms, you collapse onto the mattress the heartbeat his grasp on you loosened, your body still trembling with aftershocks. gojo’s continued pulsing inside you, coupled with the warmth of his release coating your insides, leaves you feeling utterly spent yet deeply satisfied.

as your breathing slowly returns to normal, you become aware of gojo’s hands gentling their hold on you, his fingers stroking soothing patterns on your skin. a soft, contented sigh escapes your lips as you melt into his touch, basking in the afterglow of your passionate encounter.

he leans forward, bracing his hands on the edge of the bed, his chest pressed against your back. his breath is still a bit ragged, but you can feel his strong, steady presence behind you. for a few moments, all you hear is the steady, calming sound of your combined breathing, the only indication that both of you are slowly recovering from the intensity of your shared passion.

after a few moments, gojo breaks the comfortable silence, his voice low and still slightly husky. “you okay?” he murmurs, his lips brushing gently against the shell of your ear.

his hands slide down your sides, gently encircling your waist, his touch tender and light. the weight of his chest against your back is reassuring, and you can still feel the heat of his body radiating through your clothes. he shifts slightly, his chin resting on your shoulder, and you can practically feel his intense gaze on you, as if he’s silently assessing how you’re feeling.

a soft smile curves your lips at gojo’s gentle inquiry, your body relaxing further under his comforting touch. “mhm, i’m good,” you murmur, tilting your head slightly to rest against the soft material of his blanket. “just... really sated right now.”

you let out a contented little sigh, enjoying the warmth of his embrace and the intimate closeness of his body pressed against yours. slowly but surely, the feeling of his softened cock slipped out of your cunt, taking all of your cum and his down to your thigh and floor.

gojo chuckles softly in response, hearing the hint of satisfaction in your tired voice. he plants a soft, feather-light kiss on your neck, his lips lingering there for a moment. “that’s good,” he says, his voice laced with a hint of pride, “i’m glad i exhausted you that much.”

he pauses for a moment, his hands gently rubbing your sides, before speaking again. “need anything? water, a towel, or just... rest?” he asks, his tone genuinely concerned.

you let out a soft sigh, the tension of the past moments slowly melting away as you murmured, “just rest.” your voice was quiet, tired, and gojo, ever attentive, hummed in agreement, his lips brushing softly against your cheek in a gentle kiss.

“say no less,” he whispered with that same reassuring tone, his arms immediately wrapping around you. he shifted you both onto the bed, pulling you into his embrace and letting you rest your head on his chest. his warmth surrounded you, grounding you at the moment, his heartbeat steady beneath you.

gojo made sure to cover both of you with the blanket, tucking it around your bare body with care, his movements slow and deliberate. despite the weight of the earlier events, his presence was steady, a soft contrast to the tension you’d felt before. outside of the bet, outside of the teasing, the games, and the complexities of it all, he seemed intent on giving you comfort—giving you the space to just rest, without further complications. his fingers gently traced circles on your back, a quiet reminder that, at this moment, there was nothing but a reason you were on his bed simply because of a bet— the bet he’s going to win.

gojo held you close, his arms encircling your body snugly under the soft warmth of the blanket. he continued tracing light circles on your back, the soothing repetitive motion a silent reassurance of his presence and care.

his chest rose and fell in a steady, calming rhythm, and you could feel the faint thump of his heartbeat beneath your ear. his body offered a solid, comforting presence, grounding you in the aftermath of the eventful night.

gojo remained silent for several minutes, simply holding you close, his touch gentle and nurturing. after a few moments, he leaned down, his lips brushing against your forehead in a tender kiss. “get some rest,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing.

he shifted slightly, adjusting his position so that both of you were more comfortable. his arms remained wrapped around you, holding you close against his chest, a silent promise of protection and comfort.

you simply nod.

gojo feels your nod, his lips curving into a small smile against your forehead. “good,” he murmurs, his voice soft and low.

he lets out a deep, content sigh, his body relaxing further into the bed, his arms still holding you close. his breathing slows, a steady, measured rhythm that seems to lull you into a sense of peace and security. the room is enveloped in a comfortable silence for a while, the only sound being the steady beat of his heart against your ear.

gojo’s gaze softened as he looked down at your peaceful face, the soft rise and fall of your chest the only movement in the stillness of the room. he stayed like that for a while, just watching you, making sure you were fully asleep, your breathing steady and relaxed. he could feel the weight of the day, the tension from earlier, and he knew you needed this rest, even if you didn’t quite realize it yet.

once he was certain you were asleep, gojo's fingers slid beneath the pillow, pulling out his phone with careful movements. his smirk returned, a wicked gleam flashing in his eyes as he unlocked the screen and opened the camera. he took a quick snapshot, the sound of the shutter a soft click that was barely audible in the quiet room. his eyes flicked down to the picture, his smirk widening as he admired the photo of you, completely unaware, asleep in his arms.

“this is mine,” he muttered quietly to himself, the excitement of the bet reigniting within him. he knew he was going to win, and as much as he enjoyed this rare moment of calm with you, there was no denying the competitive streak that ran through him. he tucked the phone back under the pillow, settling back into the warmth of the bed, still holding you close, but his mind already racing ahead to the next step in his game.

gojo’s gaze remains fixed on you, admiring the innocent, vulnerable expression on your face as you sleep. he takes several more moments to just watch you, his gaze flickering over every detail of your face—the way your eyelashes flutter against your cheeks, the gentle rise and fall of your chest, the slight part of your lips as you breathe in.

he lets out a soft sigh, his fingers gently tracing your skin, his touch almost reverent. “god, you’re beautiful,” he murmurs quietly, the words slipping out involuntarily.

gojo’s eyes lingered on your peaceful, sleeping form, an unsettling mixture of admiration and satisfaction bubbling inside him. every detail of your face seemed to draw him in, each soft breath you took making his heart twist. he couldn't help but trace the curve of your cheek with his finger, as though savoring the image of you in your most vulnerable state. god, you're beautiful, he thought, the words slipping from his lips in a quiet murmur, but they were tinged with something darker.

as much as he tried to shake it off, a faint flicker of guilt gnawed at him. just a tiny sliver, a whisper in the back of his mind, reminding him of the bet, the cruel game he was playing with his friends. was this really what he wanted? to use you like this, to take advantage of your innocence, your trust, all for the sake of proving something to them? the thought scratched at his conscience, but it was fleeting, quickly drowned out by the more dominant, selfish part of him.

he couldn’t help it—he wanted to win. he wanted to show off, to prove that he was the one who’d conquered you first. the idea of rubbing it in toji, geto, and sukuna’s faces, seeing their reactions when he revealed that he was the one who’d claimed you, made his chest tighten with dark satisfaction. the guilt? it was easily buried beneath the hunger for victory.

monday couldn’t come soon enough.

sukuna leaned back, crossing his arms with a sly smirk as he glanced at gojo. “you’re so damn stupid,” he sneered, his voice dripping with disdain. “just get to the point, genius. we’re here to talk about the bet, not hear you babble on like an idiot.”

the mention of the bet caused a shift in the group. toji’s smirk sharpened, a predatory gleam in his eyes as he leaned forward, clearly ready to pounce on whatever gojo had to offer. geto, normally the calmest of them, looked intrigued, his gaze steady and expectant. sukuna’s own smirk widened into a mocking grin, savoring the thrill of competition, ready to lay down his own proof and claim victory over the others.

he let the tension build, basking in the eager anticipation hanging thick between them. then, without further ado, sukuna reached into his pocket, pulling out his phone and casually waving it in the air. “alright, boys. one... two... three,” he counted, then turned his screen toward the group with a triumphant look. displayed was a photo of you lying next to him, fast asleep, vulnerable and unguarded. sukuna’s smirk grew wider, reveling in the victory he thought was his.

as sukuna’s countdown reached three, he confidently pulled out his phone, an air of smug triumph around him as he turned the screen to reveal the photo of you, asleep in his arms, your peaceful face nestled against him. for a brief moment, he savored the victory, certain he’d be the one to claim the title. but as he looked up, expecting awe and frustration from the others, he found something else entirely.

geto’s face, usually so calm, had twisted into a look of sheer confusion, a frown creasing his brow as he looked down at his own phone, then up at sukuna, and back to his phone again. in his hand, on his own screen, was the exact same photo—down to every last detail. his jaw clenched, and he turned the phone towards sukuna without saying a word, letting the image speak for itself.

toji, who’d been leaning back with a predatory smirk, felt his confidence waver. he, too, checked his phone, and the smirk fell, replaced by a dark scowl. “what kind of joke is this?” he growled, his fingers gripping his phone tightly, a mix of anger and disbelief in his eyes as he flashed the identical photo.

and gojo, who’d initially met sukuna’s countdown with smug amusement, suddenly felt the blood drain from his face. he looked at his own screen, the same picture staring back at him, taunting him with an illusion of victory. his lips pressed into a thin line as he glanced at each of the others, his usual cocky grin now replaced with a frustrated grimace. “so… none of us won anything, huh?” he muttered bitterly, his voice low, laced with irritation.

a tense silence settled over them, their expressions twisted with disbelief and anger. each one felt the bitter sting of having been outsmarted, the pride and triumph they’d anticipated now twisted into something sharp and uncomfortable.

sukuna clenched his jaw, the victory he’d tasted turning to ash. “this is ridiculous. how the hell—” he began, but was cut off by toji’s dry, humorless laugh.

“guess none of us were as clever as we thought,” toji muttered darkly, his voice edged with anger and annoyance.

sukuna’s eyes narrowed, his pride deeply wounded. “tch,” he scoffed, shoving his phone back into his pocket. “so we all lost? pathetic.” they sat in a tense, silent circle, each stewing in their own frustration and realizing they’d been played.

gojo let out a frustrated sigh, the realization of the situation sinking in. none of them had won, and worse, they'd all been tricked. he glanced again in your direction, a mix of irritation and confusion on his face. the realization that you, sweet and innocent as you seemed, had somehow outsmarted them all was a pill too hard to swallow.

“well, this is just great,” he muttered, his voice heavy with sarcasm. “we’re all idiots.”

the four men turned, spotted you a few benches away, looking completely at ease, chatting with none other than nanami. his composed, polished demeanor stood out even in the crowded cafeteria, and as you held your phone up to show him something, you looked every bit like you were sharing a private joke. they saw your face light up with that familiar, radiant smile as nanami rolled his eyes in mock annoyance, his expression softening in a way they rarely saw.

then, to their surprise, nanami sighed, pulling his wallet from his pocket and handing you a couple of bills. your smile grew even bigger, the kind of delighted, unguarded grin they’d each hoped to earn themselves. from a distance, they couldn’t make out what you were saying, but the playful exchange and easy familiarity between you both were clear as day.

their eyes widened when nanami leaned down, just slightly, his hand resting on your shoulder as he pressed a brief but gentle kiss to your lips—completely unfazed by the cafeteria full of students. the kiss was neither rushed nor hesitant, just natural and unapologetic. as he pulled away, he sent a pointed, almost warning glance in their direction, his gaze cold and unyielding, as if daring any of them to even think about challenging him.

you turned then, catching their gawking stares and raising the cash in your hand with a sly grin that practically dripped with triumph. they could only sit in stunned silence as you waved the money at them, your expression smug and knowing. your gaze lingered on them for a second longer, a little glint of mischief in your eyes, before you turned your attention back to your phone, completely unfazed by their reactions.

the four men sat there, speechless, their jaws hanging open in shock at the scene unfolding before them. they’d expected you to be meek and naive, unaware of their little bet. instead, here you were, giggling with nanami, a man known for his aloofness and strict nature, casually taking money from him in exchange for a kiss. your confident wave and smug smile only added to the shock.

toji was the first to snap out of it, his eyes narrowing as he watched you with a mixture of anger and surprise. “what the hell was that?” he sputtered, his voice strained.

sukuna’s face contorted with pure disbelief, a rare look of complete shock crossing his usual smug features. he couldn’t believe that the girl they’d all so casually thought they were playing had flipped the entire game on them. his jaw clenched, eyes narrowing as he muttered under his breath, “unbelievable… she played us.”

toji, on the other hand, looked downright irritated, his expression darkening as he watched nanami give you that casual, easy kiss. his pride stung, and he forced out a low, sarcastic laugh, shaking his head. “so much for thinking she’d be easy to handle,” he growled. “guess we’re the ones who got handled.”

geto was silent, his usual calm mask slipping just enough to reveal the flicker of surprise in his eyes. he prided himself on being perceptive, but seeing you there with nanami, openly flaunting the victory they thought was theirs, left him speechless. his lips curved into a grudging smirk, though, as he muttered, “gotta hand it to her… didn’t see that coming.”

gojo felt his face flush with a mix of frustration and lingering embarrassment. he leaned back, running a hand over his face and letting out a soft, defeated chuckle. “well, this is just fantastic,” he murmured, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he watched you wave the money with that smug smile on your face. “we’re all idiots, and she knows it.”

the four men sat there, each lost in their own thoughts, the reality of what had just happened sinking in. they’d underestimated you, treated you like a naive little toy to be won, but you'd turned the tables on them. and the fact that you’d done it so effortlessly, with such a casual smirk on your face, only added to the collective sense of shock and irritation.

gojo, in particular, couldn’t shake off the burning sense of embarrassment. you’d made him look like a fool, and that stung. him, who was never one to be outplayed, felt a strange mix of anger and admiration at your audacity. it was both aggravating and irritating, but there was an undercurrent of grudging respect. you’d made all of them look like morons, yet there was something about your confidence, the way you casually took nanami’s money, that he couldn’t help but find intriguing.

gojo clenched his jaw, his own competitive nature burning within him. “that smug little…” he muttered under his breath, barely loud enough for the others to hear.

geto shot him a bemused smirk, sensing the competitive fire flaring up in his friend. “looks like you’ve met your match, genius,” he said, his voice laced with sarcasm. “and judging by the look on your face, you’re not handling it too well.”

lost in a whirlwind of shock and confusion, they barely noticed you approaching until you were standing right at their table, an amused, knowing smile on your lips. with a graceful, almost lazy flick of your wrist, you dropped a small stack of polaroids onto the table, each one falling face-up, showing exactly what they dreaded to see.

each photo captured the same damning image: them, fast asleep, completely unaware, while you sat on their waist, looking down with a mocking pout. your lips jutted out in an exaggerated, fake crying face, as if mourning their obliviousness. their faces, peaceful in sleep, were juxtaposed with your taunting expression, turning the tables in a way none of them could have expected.

toji’s eyes went wide as he flipped through the pictures, his smirk quickly fading to a tight-lipped grimace. sukuna’s jaw clenched, a flush of irritation darkening his cheeks as he processed the fact that you’d played him, all of them, so perfectly. geto let out a disbelieving chuckle, shaking his head, unable to hide a mix of amusement and frustration at your brazen boldness.

gojo, usually quick with a snappy comeback, could only stare at the photos, stunned into silence. he glanced up at you, his gaze a mix of admiration and disbelief. you’d outwitted them, effortlessly.

you leaned in slightly, resting one hand on the edge of the table, flashing them a wicked grin. “hope you enjoyed your little nap, boys,” you teased, your tone sweet but dripping with smugness. with one final smirk, you turned on your heel and walked away, leaving them speechless, the photos in hand as a constant reminder of the game they’d lost to you.

[pathologicalreid]

falling flat | s.r.

in which you call Spencer for help with a flat tire, and he comes to help with you car troubles - and then some

margovember

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: fluff content warnings: allusions to the reaper, car trouble, blood, tetanus vaccine, kindergarten teacher!reader, flirting, protective!spencer, takes place following 5x22 "the internet is forever", hastily edited word count: 1.87k a/n: rahhhh an old prompt from may 2024 that ended up working for a margovember request rahhh.

The absolute last place you wanted to be was on the side of the road, in the middle of nowhere Virginia, with a flat tire. You weren’t entirely helpless until your tire jack broke, sending metal flying everywhere and cutting your hand open.

You slumped down next to your car, pulling your phone from your pocket before calling the first people you could think of. Every single one of them ended up going to voicemail. Some of them didn’t even let it get past the first ring before declining your call—traitors.

With your thumb hovering over the call button, you thought of Spencer. He had a PhD in engineering, but you weren’t entirely sure that would come in handy in this instance. It was late, almost midnight, and you weren’t even sure he’d answer.

At this point, what choice did you have?

As the phone rang, part of you hoped he wouldn’t answer. When he asked you about it the next time you saw him, you’d wave it off as a butt dial and he’d be none the wiser.

“Hello,” he said through the phone, leaving your plans quashed.

This was awkward, you had been on four dates with the guy over the span of two months, and now you were calling him in the middle of the night. “This isn’t a booty call,” You blurted, cringing inwardly and banging your head back on the passenger door of your car.

Spencer laughed lightly, “I didn’t think it was, what’s going on?”

“I didn’t wake you up, did I?” You asked, his job had a lot of long hours, and you didn’t want to bother him if he was catching up on sleep. If he was even home, “Wait, where are you?”

There was a rustling on his end of the call, “No, I wasn’t asleep, I’m at work. We just got off of a case.”

You let out a sigh of relief, at least you weren’t being a total nuisance. “Sorry, I don’t mean to bother you. I just… my tire blew out on the highway and my jack broke and no one else is answering their phone,” you told him, verging on rambling.

“You’re kind of cutting out, where are you?” He asked, he sounded concerned, and if there was a moment where you weren’t sure you still had feelings for him, it was fleeting.

Looking to either side of you for a mile marker, you stood up, looking at the ground so you didn’t step on any metal, “I don’t really know. There aren’t any signs, I’m somewhere on 28, I think?”

Spencer cleared his throat, “Do you have your location on your phone?”

“Yeah, but I don’t think I have enough service to check it,” you said, all you could see were trees.

You could hear him talking to someone, holding the receiver away from his mouth, “That’s fine, I’ll have someone look, just stay on the phone.”

It would seem that dating someone in the FBI does have its perks, “Oh, cool.” You overheard Spencer explaining your situation to someone, hearing the other person in the room say something about Reid’s girlfriend and you couldn’t help but smile. The two of you were very unofficially official.

“Hey, I’ll be there in half an hour,” An elevator dinged in the background. “Is that alright?”

You hummed, leaning your hip against the front of your car. “I mean, I’m not planning on going anywhere.”

Another ding of the elevator, “Will you do me a favor?”

In exchange for this? You’d do just about anything within the realm of legality, “Name it.”

“Get in your car and lock the doors,” he responded. “Turn your hazards on because right now you’re a sitting duck. If someone doesn’t see your car, they could hit you.”

As a favor, he was asking you to make sure you’re safe, “Okay, I’m getting in now, should I leave the car running?”

You heard the sound of a car lock disengaging through the phone, “As long as the cooling system on your car is in good shape, it shouldn’t be a problem to leave it running while you wait. Just remember what I told you about the hazards.”

Nodding despite the fact that he can’t see you, you got in the car, turning the key in the ignition before pushing the button for your hazard lights, “Okay, I’m in the car.”

“I can’t drive and be on the phone at the same time, but I’ll be there soon. Don’t unlock the doors for anyone except for me,” he told you, and you thanked him for his help before hanging up and settling yourself in your driver’s seat.

You pulled the hoodie you kept stashed in your car over your head, your school mascot—a panther—proudly displayed in the front, and made sure your car doors were locked. If you said you weren’t a little unnerved, you’d be lying to yourself.

Spencer had a worrisome job; it was something you were aware of before he ever asked you on that first date. It became alarmingly obvious to you when he revealed that he’d been shot a few months prior, which was an appropriate second-date conversation with an FBI agent. It made sense to you that he’d be concerned about you, in your idle car, on the side of the road, but you wondered if there was a case that he was thinking of. Someone with a flat tire who had met an untimely demise.

Shuddering, you turned up the heat in your car, flipping through radio stations until someone knocked on your window. You jumped at the noise, hitting your head against the roof of the car before looking outside to see Spencer. Sighing in relief, you unlocked your car door, and he opened it for you, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. Is your head alright?”

You peered up at him, casually leaning over your car door. “You cut your hair,” you observed. You’d seen him just last week, where his hair still touched his shoulders, and now it was considerably shorter.

Self-consciously, he reached up a hand and thumbed one of the tendrils, “Yeah, it just got too long—and heavy.”

Resisting the urge to ruffle his hair, your head bobbed, “I like it. Did you do it yourself?”

“You can tell?” He asked, following you around the back of your car to your busted tire. Spencer sets his tire jack down before looking back at you, putting his hands on his hips.

Grinning at him, you shrugged, “I teach kindergarten, I’m basically a professional at noticing DIY haircuts.”

On a towel that you had previously set out, the two of you sat along the side of your car, and you tried to ignore the fact that Spencer still had his weapon holstered. It made sense, he’d come straight from work, but you wondered if there was a reason he didn’t leave it in his car. “Where’s your lug wrench?”

“I can change it myself,” you insisted, “I just needed a different car jack.” You gestured to the pieces of yours that were now all over the side of the road.

Alarm flashed on Spencer’s face, “Nothing fell on you, right?”

You shook your head, “No, just a cut from the metal.”

Holding out your hand, you let Spencer take a look at the cut on your palm. “When was your last tetanus shot?”

Blinking rapidly, you frowned at him, “Uh, when I was in college?”

“That might need stitches,” he responded, letting you take your hand back. “I’ll change your tire, I don’t want you using that hand for anything,” he informed you, pushing the hydraulic jack beneath your car.

Butterflies swarmed in your stomach as you watched him take your old tire off, muttering under his breath about how your old jack was practically an artifact, seeing how it literally fell apart under pressure. “How was your case?” You asked softly, fully aware that you were likely opening a can of worms by asking about work.

Spencer’s movements faltered slightly at your question, “It’s closed. We were in Boise,” he answered tactfully, leaving out any case details and cluing you into the fact that he didn’t want to talk about it. “What are you doing out here?”

You sighed, leaning back on your hands and watching him work, “I had a meeting with the other schools in our conference. It’s annual, and this year they happened to pick the school furthest away from mine.”

“Well, I suppose it worked out well that your tire blew out so close to me, then,” Spencer said, swapping out the busted tire for the donut and looking over at you. There was something nervous in his eyes, and you didn’t know if it was related to work or you.

Humming, you tried to watch the tire rather than just watching him, “Is there something bothering you?”

He was tightening the lug nuts on the spare tire, “Are you driving home after this?”

You furrowed your brows, “Yeah, where else could I be going?”

“It’s almost a two-hour drive to your place from here,” he reminded you, his tone laced with concern. “You won’t get home until almost one in the morning,” the displeasure in his voice was plain, but you don’t have anywhere else to go. “Plus, you really shouldn’t travel that far on a spare tire, they’re not made to travel far distances.”

Crossing your arms in front of your stomach, you let your shoulders slump forward, “So, what do you suggest I do? Get a hotel?”

Spencer mumbled something inaudibly, trying to finish tightening the bolts on the tire before sighing, “You can stay with me,” he blushes, a swipe of pink across his cheeks.

Your lips parted in surprise, “Uh, I don’t… I’m not…” you faltered. Utterly failing to come up with a good enough reason to tell him no, “I don’t want you to feel inclined. This isn’t what I was looking for when I called you for help.”

He let the car down, staying quiet while the two of you cleaned up, and Spencer swatted your hand away when you tried to pick things up. “So, you can come back to my place tonight. My work-issued first-aid kit has your name all over it,” he told you, eyes flickering down to the cut on your hand.

“Okay,” you breathed, unable to conjure a reason to refuse his hospitality.

He was grinning at you, hair just barely brushing his eyebrows, “So tomorrow, maybe we can get coffee and drop your car off to get a new tire?”

You smiled back at him, “That sounds great, date number five.”

“You know where you’re going, right?”

“Yeah,” you’d been to his place once to pick him up, “Hey, Spence?”

He turned around, fishing his car keys from his pocket. He looked ready to respond to you, but you pressed your lips to his before he had a chance to speak.

You kissed him softly, whispering against his mouth, “Thank you for coming.”

He chuckled lightly, gently resting a hand on your waist, “Thank you for calling.” 

[theonottsbxtch]

I LOVED YOU FIRST PT2 | FC43

part one

an: not even gonna leave an an, i always had a part two lol

wc: 5.2k

Franco found out she was dating Angelo via an Instagram story. A fucking Instagram story.

But that was almost three years ago now, and Franco tried to let it go, god did he try. He was getting married now, after all. He had to forget about what could have been.

The engagement ring on his finger felt heavier than it should. Not because he hadn’t once thought it was right—he had. Or maybe he just convinced himself it was right. They’d been together for four years, maybe more, he stopped counting. She was beautiful, poised, easy to love, easy to fit into his world. That’s what he’d told himself, anyway.

But now, standing in the grand suite of the London hotel they’d rented for the weekend, Franco stared out the window at the city below, watching the lights flicker in the distance. He hadn’t been able to shake the feeling that something was missing. Not that he had any right to be questioning it. After all, he was about to get married, wasn’t he?

The last three years had been a blur of wins, podiums, and post-race parties. Formula 1 had been a dream realised, his face plastered across billboards in every country, every magazine with his name next to the headlines. He’d travelled the world, earned millions, lived a life many envied. But somewhere along the way, his heart had wandered.

And the truth was, despite the glamour, despite the fame, the money, he couldn’t shake the thought of her. The way she’d looked when she told him she loved him first. The way her eyes had glistened with unshed tears that night in Monza—before she left for good. The way she’d walked away, no longer the girl he took for granted. It was like he could still see her disappearing down the hallway of the hotel, leaving him behind, a shadow in her past.

What if I had chosen her?

He thought about that too often. But it was too late. She was gone. She’d moved on with Angelo, the guy who was everything Franco wasn’t—steady, grounded, someone who could give her a love that wasn’t tied to racing, fame, or endless, mind-numbing travel. And that fucking Instagram story—her laughing, the two of them in a café in Buenos Aires, arms around each other, looking so effortlessly happy—had been the final blow.

That was the last straw.

And now, three years later, here he was—about to get married, with the wrong person. He should have been thrilled, but something about it gnawed at him, like he was suffocating in a life that wasn’t his own. She was everything he thought he wanted. She’d followed him to every race, always the perfect girlfriend, the perfect partner. But the truth was, he wasn’t sure he loved her anymore. He wasn’t sure he ever had.

She had been the easy option. She fit into the world he’d built for himself—the shiny, public life, the world of sponsorships and media appearances. She had the right background, the right education, the right looks. She was what was expected of him. What people saw when they looked at a successful F1 driver: the perfect match, the ideal woman.

But the reality was that whenever he closed his eyes, he saw someone else. He saw her. The girl from that small village in Argentina, the one who’d loved him first and probably would, even when he didn’t deserve it. Even when he hadn’t been able to see it for what it was.

He hadn’t thought about her for a while—not in the sense that would make him ache, not the way he used to. He’d buried that pain under the chaos of the last few years. But it was like a low hum in the back of his mind. Every time he saw Angelo’s name pop up, or when he’d hear a new story about her from people back home, he couldn’t help but wonder how her life had turned out. Was she happy? Was she still with Angelo? Was she finally over him?

He could only imagine the life she’d built without him—the kind of life she deserved.

But now, standing on the edge of a new chapter of his life, Franco wondered if he’d ever be able to move on. Because, no matter how many laps he raced, no matter how many trophies he collected, it always came back to her. And now, with his wedding on the horizon, he couldn’t help but ask himself: What the hell had he been doing this whole time?

His phone buzzed on the table, snapping him back to the moment. His fiancée. A text: “Hey, I made reservations for dinner tonight!”

He sighed and stared at the screen of his phone, fingers hovering over the keyboard. 

He knew he shouldn’t, it was ridiculous. It was stupid. He had no right to send her an invitation, not after everything. He hadn’t heard from her in so long, hadn’t even thought about reaching out beyond those painful Instagram stories and the passing updates from mutual friends.

But, for some reason, there he was—typing out an invitation to his wedding.

It’s the right thing to do, he told himself. She was a part of his past. She had been the first person to love him unconditionally. They’d spent too many years growing up together not to extend an olive branch. Besides, she had a life now, a life without him. Maybe it was selfish to think she would even want to come, but maybe, just maybe, she deserved to know. She deserved to hear it from him, the way things had turned out.

He hit “send” before he could overthink it any more. The words felt hollow as they left his phone, but there was no going back now.

It was a quiet afternoon in Buenos Aires. The sun was just beginning to dip below the horizon, casting a soft, golden light through the windows of their apartment. She and Angelo had just finished dinner—nothing fancy, just pasta and wine—and now she was curled up on the couch with a book in her lap, one of the many cosy rituals they had settled into over the past couple of years.

Her phone buzzed on the coffee table. She glanced at it, seeing a notification from her email app. The subject line made her pause.

Wedding Invitation: Franco Colapinto.

She blinked, feeling her chest tighten before she even opened it. It had been so long since she’d thought about him—since Monza, really. It was a chapter of her life that had closed the moment she walked away. But the sight of his name brought it all rushing back. The summers spent racing bikes down dirt roads, his smile so effortless, so wide. The way he’d looked at her before everything changed.

Slowly, she opened the email, feeling a strange mixture of nostalgia and disbelief.

I hope this message finds you well. It’s been a while since we last spoke, but I wanted to reach out and invite you to something important. I’m getting married in three months' time, and I wanted to personally invite you to be a part of the day. It wouldn’t feel right without including you.

I understand if you’re unable to come, but I thought it was important to extend the invitation.

I hope everything is going well in your life.

All the best,

Fran

She stared at the message for what felt like an eternity, the words swimming in her mind. There were so many things she could have said, but the only thing she could focus on was the feeling of her heart, beating a little faster than it should. A soft ache settled in her chest.

Three years had passed. She had moved on, found a life she was proud of—one that was stable and calm, filled with love from Angelo, whose steady hand had never wavered, who had been everything Franco couldn’t be. She had built a future, and it was more than she had ever expected for herself.

And yet, the invitation sat there, a reminder of what had been. Of the boy she had loved, the boy who had never truly seen her. Of the boy who she had walked away from.

She set the phone down for a moment, leaning back against the couch. Angelo’s gentle snoring filled the living room from the slightly ajar door, a quiet reminder of the life they had made together—together, with no ghosts of the past lingering between them. But even as she sat there, she could feel the sting of Franco’s message, the painful reminder of how much had been left unsaid.

She thought about the wedding. How strange it felt to be invited to something so intimate, something so final. It was a life she would never be a part of. A life that wasn’t hers to claim, never was. But part of her, deep down, still wondered what had happened. Was he happy? Was this really the life he wanted? Or was this just another easy option for him? Another decision made out of convenience?

Why am I even asking myself this?

She shook her head, her lips curling into a rueful smile. She knew she didn’t want to go. There was no reason to go back to that part of her life, not now. Not when everything she had built with Angelo was exactly where it needed to be.

The following morning, the soft clink of Angelo’s keys echoed through their small kitchen as he got his things ready for work. He was already dressed in his crisp suit, his tie neatly adjusted, preparing for another day at the law firm. She, on the other hand, was in her scrubs, packing her bag for her shift at the hospital.

She was tying her trainers when she saw him glance at her, his eyes focused on his phone.

“Hey,” he said, his voice casual but tinged with curiosity. “You seem a little quiet this morning.”

She shrugged, setting her bag down on the counter. “I’m fine. Just tired, I guess.”

It was only a half-lie. She had hardly slept last night after receiving Franco’s invitation. The words had stuck with her, gnawing at her thoughts, replaying in her mind like a loop she couldn’t escape.

“What’s up?” Angelo asked, watching her intently, his brow furrowing slightly.

She hesitated, then sighed and reached for her phone, pulling up the email Franco had sent her. She handed it to him without a word.

Angelo read it in silence, his eyes scanning the screen. She couldn’t bring herself to look at him. She wasn’t sure what to expect, but somehow, she already knew that he would have an opinion on it.

Finally, he set the phone down and looked at her, his expression unreadable for a moment. “He’s getting married, huh? I didn;’t believe it when I saw it on the news.” he said softly.

“Yeah,” she replied quietly, as if the words themselves felt like an admission. “I guess he thought I should know.”

“You’re not planning on going, are you?” Angelo asked, his voice laced with concern.

She shook her head, biting her lip. “He’s my past now. It doesn’t matter. It’s… it’s not something I need to revisit.”

Angelo nodded, his eyes softening as he stepped closer, brushing a strand of hair from her face. He knew how much Franco had meant to her—how he had once been the centre of her world. But that was years ago. And he had never once doubted that she was now his world.

“I haven’t seen Franco since we were sixteen,” Angelo said, his tone thoughtful. “I know things between you and him ended... well, the way they did. But maybe it might be good to go. For closure. For you, if nothing else.”

She met his eyes, her gaze wavering. “Closure?” she repeated, almost incredulously. “I don’t need closure, Angelo. I moved on a long time ago.”

“I know,” Angelo said, his voice gentle but firm. “But I think sometimes it’s easy to say we’ve moved on, that we’re over things. But there are pieces of our past that stick with us, no matter how much time passes. Maybe seeing him—seeing that life—will help you put the final chapter behind you. Don’t you think?”

She was quiet for a long moment, turning the idea over in her head. It made sense, in a way. The past had never quite been put to rest, even if she had buried it deep. Maybe it wasn’t about Franco anymore. Maybe it was about facing what had happened, about finding peace with it, once and for all.

“I don’t know,” she murmured, shaking her head. “I don’t want it to mess with what we have, Angelo. I don’t want to go and be reminded of something that doesn’t exist anymore.”

Angelo smiled softly, taking her hand in his. “It won’t. I promise. You’re the one I want, mi amor You’re the one who matters. Whatever happened back then, whatever Franco was, that’s not us. It’s not our life. But if this is something you think you need to do, then I’ll be there with you. I want you to have the closure you need.”

She felt a warmth spread through her chest at his words. Angelo had always been like that—steady, understanding, and so patient with her. He never pushed her to forget, but he also didn’t hold her to the past. He was the one who made her feel safe, who built her the life she was proud of, and the thought of him beside her through whatever this was made her feel like she could take on anything.

With a slow, hesitant breath, she met his eyes. “You’re right. Maybe it would be good to go. I don’t know what I’ll feel when I see him, but I think... I think I can handle it now.”

Angelo smiled, squeezing her hand. “Then we’ll go. Together.”

She nodded, feeling a weight lift from her shoulders. The decision was made, and it was time to let go of the last remnants of the past. Franco and his life—whatever that was now—could stay in the past, but she wouldn’t be running from it anymore.

“Thanks,” she whispered, leaning in to kiss him on the cheek. “For always being here.”

“Always,” Angelo replied, his voice warm. “Now go. You don’t want to be late for your shift.”

She smiled at him one last time before grabbing her bag and heading for the door. The wedding was still months away, but somehow, her world felt just a little bit more at peace now.

Three months later

The morning of the wedding, the soft rays of the sun filtered through the curtains of their hotel suite, casting a warm, golden glow across the room.

She stood in front of the mirror, smoothing down the fabric of her dress as Angelo adjusted his cufflinks in the reflection behind her. The air was filled with a quiet sense of anticipation. It had been a few months since she agreed to come to the wedding, and now, standing in this luxurious hotel in the heart of the Mediterranean, she could feel the surrealness of it all.

She was here. With him. With Angelo.

He caught her gaze in the mirror, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “You look beautiful,” he said, his voice tender.

She smiled back, her heart swelling with a quiet joy. Angelo was always so calm, so steady, and he knew exactly how to make her feel loved without needing to say much. The simple moments like this were the ones that made her certain that their life together, their future, was the right one.

“Thank you,” she said, leaning in to kiss him on the cheek. He was perfect in every way. “You look handsome, as usual,” she added with a smile.

He chuckled softly. “I try,” he teased, adjusting the hem of his suit jacket before stepping forward to take her hand. “Are you ready for this? I know it’s been a long time coming.”

She nodded, squeezing his hand. “Yeah. I’m ready. It’s just… it’s strange. You know? We’re not the same people we were three years ago. And I feel like I’m finally letting go of that past. I just need to do it, for me. And for us.”

“Whatever you need, you have it,” Angelo said, his voice unwavering, filled with a quiet strength.

She smiled at him, grateful for his support. They had come so far, and no matter what happened today, she knew she was in the right place.

“I’m going to step outside for a second,” she said, pulling away from him gently. “I’m going to grab a photo of the schedule. I’ll be right back.”

“Take your time,” Angelo replied, watching her with those warm, reassuring eyes.

She stepped into the corridor of the hotel, her heels clicking against the polished floor. She pulled out her phone, navigating to the event details to snap a photo of the ceremony’s schedule. The hallway was quiet, save for the distant chatter of guests below and the hum of preparations for the wedding in the distance. The excitement was palpable in the air, but in this moment, everything felt calm.

That was until she heard the faint sound of footsteps approaching from behind.

She turned around, feeling her heart give a small, unexpected jolt when she saw him.

Franco.

He was standing there, half-dressed in a black tuxedo with his shirt untucked, sleeves rolled up, his tie still loose around his neck. He looked just like he did three years ago—handsome, dishevelled in the way that made him seem effortlessly charming.

Her stomach tightened.

“You came,” he said, his voice soft with surprise. 

She stood there for a moment, unsure of what to say, before forcing a calm smile. “I said I would,” she replied evenly. Her heart beat just a little faster, but she kept her expression neutral.

He looked at her, his gaze a little more intense than she remembered, and she couldn’t quite place the mix of emotions flickering in his eyes. There was something unspoken there, something she hadn’t expected.

“I didn’t think you’d follow through,” he added, a hint of disbelief in his voice.

She didn’t know what to make of that. She shrugged. “I thought I’d at least be polite.”

A silence stretched between them, uncomfortable and thick with everything that had been left unsaid over the years. Franco’s gaze drifted toward the floor for a moment before he looked back up at her, his jaw tense, and his voice was almost pleading when he spoke.

“Can we talk?” he asked, his words hesitant.

She hesitated, feeling her pulse quicken. She didn’t want this. Didn’t want to go back to the past—didn’t want to open that door again.

“I’d rather not,” she said, her tone firm, though her heart was beating harder than she cared to admit.

Franco’s expression softened. “It’s been three years. Three years overdue, don’t you think?”

She closed her eyes for a moment, breathing in deeply, the weight of everything hanging between them. She didn’t owe him anything, and yet, a part of her—perhaps the part that had loved him—knew there was still something lingering. Something that she hadn’t been able to shake off.

She finally gave a soft sigh, one that carried all the weariness of the years that had passed. “Fine,” she said quietly, her shoulders sagging slightly in resignation. “But just for a minute. I don’t have time to rehash everything.”

“Thank you,” Franco murmured, stepping forward as he gestured down the hallway. “My room’s just down here. I won’t keep you long.”

They walked down the corridor in silence, the weight of the moment sinking in. She wasn’t sure what she expected from this conversation, but she knew it wasn’t going to be easy. Not for either of them. When they reached his room, Franco opened the door and stepped aside to let her in.

It was a modest suite, far removed from the lavish ceremony unfolding just downstairs. The quiet of the room seemed to accentuate the tension between them. He closed the door behind them, his movements slow and deliberate.

“Can I get you anything?” he asked, his voice distant as he turned to face her. “Water? A drink?”

She shook her head. “I’m fine.”

There was a long pause. He ran a hand through his hair, clearly nervous. For the first time in a long while, he seemed uncertain.

“So…” Franco began, taking a breath, “I guess this is awkward, huh?”

“Yeah,” she replied, her voice steady, but her insides were churning. “A little.”

Before she even had a chance to settle with what she was doing, he shot her straight to the heart with the words that came out of his mouth.

“I never meant to hurt you,” he said, his voice quiet. “I know I did, but that wasn’t ever my intention. You were always there for me, and I should’ve done better. I should’ve realised…”

Franco ran a hand through his hair, a nervous gesture that was all too familiar. He seemed to be gathering the courage to say something, but when he spoke, his words were not what she expected.

“I should’ve told you,” he started, voice low, almost regretful. “I should have told you that I loved you.”

She blinked, her chest tightening as she took in the weight of his words. “Don’t,” she said quickly, cutting him off. Her voice was sharp, a defence mechanism against the rawness he was trying to expose. “You can’t do that. You can’t come here and say things like that after all this time. It’s... it’s mean.”

Franco’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t back down. “I should’ve told you,” he repeated, his voice thick with something she couldn’t quite place—guilt, perhaps? Regret?

She shook her head, unable to stop herself from responding. “Why are you still with her, then?” Her voice trembled slightly, the question feeling more like a challenge than a simple inquiry. She thought of how excited she must be right now getting ready, while he was confessing his love to his childhood best friend. She wondered whether she knew.

He didn’t answer right away, and when he did, his eyes flickered away, as though he was ashamed of the truth he was about to speak. “It’s easier to pretend to love her,” he admitted, his voice flat. “It’s easier than facing the truth.”

“Than what?” she asked, her words cutting through the air, her eyes locking onto his. “Than admitting you love me?”

The silence that followed was deafening. Franco’s eyes darkened, and he stepped closer, a hesitation lingering between them. He opened his mouth, but instead of speaking, he exhaled deeply, as if trying to gather the strength to continue.

“You don’t understand,” he said softly, voice barely above a whisper. “I was scared. I didn’t know how to handle what I was feeling. I still don’t.”

She looked at him, biting her lip, trying to keep herself from breaking. “You can’t do this,” she said, her voice cracking with frustration. “You don’t get to walk back into my life now and make me feel like I was some... some second choice. You don’t get to say things that undo everything we went through.”

Franco’s gaze darkened, but his next words were even more dangerous. “Say it, and I’ll leave her,” he said, his voice low and intense, as if he were testing her. “Say you want me the same way you wanted me three summers ago, and I’ll do it. I’ll walk away from her. I’ll choose you.”

Her breath caught in her throat, her heart stuttering in her chest. The temptation was there—familiar, painful, and so very dangerous. She could feel that old longing tug at her, the part of her that had loved him so fiercely, so deeply. But this wasn’t that girl anymore. She wasn’t the girl who would wait around for him to realise what he’d lost.

“I can’t,” she whispered, feeling tears prick the corners of her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. “I can’t do that anymore. I’m happy now. I’m happy with Angelo.”

The words felt heavy on her tongue, and for a moment, it felt like she had to convince herself of them. But as she looked into Franco’s eyes—still searching, still wanting—she realised that she meant it. She really did.

Franco’s face fell, his expression a mixture of frustration and defeat. “You don’t understand,” he said again, the words sounding more like a plea. “I never stopped loving you.”

She took a step back, shaking her head, trying to clear the emotions that were spiralling inside of her. “No,” she said firmly, her voice resolute. “You don’t get to say that, Franco. Not now. Not when I’ve spent three years getting over all of this. You don’t get to come here and break my heart all over again.”

For a long moment, they stood there, the space between them filled with unspoken words and unresolved tension. But it was over. It had to be.

“I can’t undo what happened,” she added softly, her gaze not leaving his. “But I’m not that girl anymore. And I’m not going to be someone’s second choice.”

Franco didn’t say anything. He just stood there, staring at her as if he was seeing her for the first time. The weight of everything they’d been through hung heavy between them, and it was clear now that nothing could fix it. Not words. Not promises.

She turned to leave, her hand on the doorknob, but before she could step out of the room, she paused, glancing over her shoulder one last time.

“I’m happy now, Fran,” she said quietly, her voice steady despite everything. “And you need to figure out what makes you happy too. But I can’t be part of that anymore.”

She opened the door and stepped out, not looking back, not giving him the chance to say anything more.

The wedding was beautiful.

The sun was beginning to dip below the horizon, casting a golden hue over the guests who had gathered for the wedding. The ceremony was set to take place on the terrace of the luxurious hotel overlooking the sea, the soft sound of waves lapping against the rocks below barely audible amidst the murmur of excited chatter.

She sat there, a few rows back from the front, Angelo by her side. The venue was beautiful—everything that was supposed to be perfect for a wedding. The guests were in their best attire, the flowers were arranged in pristine perfection, and the atmosphere felt like a dream. But something was off. A low hum of anxiety had been building ever since the music started, and she couldn’t shake the nagging feeling in the pit of her stomach.

Franco was supposed to be standing at the altar now. But he wasn’t.

She stole a glance at Angelo, who was sitting quietly beside her, a reassuring hand on her knee. He could sense her unease.

“You okay?” he asked softly, his voice almost drowned out by the gentle clinking of glasses and conversations around them.

She nodded, but her eyes drifted nervously toward the aisle. “I don’t know,” she murmured. “Something feels wrong.”

The minutes dragged on. The officiant glanced at his watch, confusion spreading across his face as he leaned over to whisper something to the bridesmaids. There was no sign of Franco, and the guests were beginning to exchange worried glances. The tension in the air became palpable, the excitement of the ceremony suddenly replaced by a growing sense of discomfort.

After a few more minutes, she couldn’t hold it in any longer. She turned to Angelo, her voice barely above a whisper, but her anxiety was thick in her words. “Do you think he’s going to come?”

Angelo squeezed her hand gently, his gaze soft and understanding. “I don’t know, cariño. Maybe something’s happened. He’s probably just... running late.”

But as they exchanged those quiet words, it became clear that it wasn’t just a delay. The guests were shifting in their seats, some starting to murmur under their breath, the ceremony now holding a sense of surreal anticipation.

And then, just as the whispers reached a crescendo, the sound of footsteps echoed from behind. Everyone turned, their heads swivelling as they saw him—Franco. He was walking down the aisle, his face pale, his expression one of guilt and uncertainty. He wasn’t in a rush, though. It was as if he was taking his time, as though he had already made a decision.

The room fell silent as Franco reached the front. He looked out at the gathering of faces—his family, his friends, all of them waiting for the moment when he would say "I do." But he didn’t speak immediately.

He was struggling with the words, and she could feel the weight of the tension from across the room. Her heart raced, confusion and disbelief washing over her as she watched him take a deep breath, his eyes scanning the crowd before finally locking on the bride’s family sitting in the front row.

“Excuse me,” Franco’s voice broke through the silence, shaky but loud enough for everyone to hear. “I’m sorry for the disruption,” he continued, his eyes darting nervously between the bride and the guests. “I... I can’t do this. I can’t marry her.”

The air seemed to stop in that moment. His words hung like an echo, the shock rippling through the crowd. She couldn’t look away, her heart pounding in her chest as Freddie stood there, his face flushed with embarrassment, his hands trembling at his sides.

“I’m sorry, I thought I could,” he went on, his voice quiet but steady, “but I can’t marry her when I love someone else.” His gaze shifted to her, and for a split second, their eyes met. The pain, the regret, the history of everything they had been—it was all there in that single glance. But she didn’t feel anything but exhaustion. It was like watching someone else’s dream unravel.

The guests were murmuring, unsure of how to respond. His bride, stood by the doors he’d just walked in from, ready to walk down the aisle frozen and unmoving. Shelooked like she was about to collapse, her face pale as she took in the words that no one had expected.

“I’m sorry, I just—” Franco continued, his voice breaking, “I can’t do it. I can’t go through with it. I’m sorry. I—I just can’t.”

Without another word, he turned and began to walk away, stepping down from the altar, leaving the bride standing alone, abandoned in front of everyone.

The room was filled with stunned silence.

Angelo reached for her hand, squeezing it gently as the reality of what had just unfolded sank in. She didn’t know how to feel—didn’t know what to think. Her chest ached with a strange mixture of relief and guilt, but most of all, there was a numbness that began to set in.

And then, just as quickly as Franco had walked away, he was gone, disappearing behind the closed doors of the venue, leaving a trail of shock in his wake. The ceremony was over before it had even begun.

She couldn’t help herself.

The guilt she felt in her stomach was strong.

It was her fault.

the end.

an: actual an, im sorry guys! i was feeling sad so i wrote this muahhah

tags: @obxstiles @charlosvibesonly @zestytimbit @taygrls

[eddiethebrave]

secret admirer part twenty-five

1043 words

one two three four five six seven eight nine ten eleven twelve thirteen fourteen fifteen sixteen seventeen eighteen nineteen twenty twenty-one twenty-two twenty-three twenty-four

That morning…

Eddie it really sucks that you’re the only you  other than the fact that two eddies would be amazing on it’s own, i realized that you don’t know how it feels to have your attention it’s so intense dude you’re so intense in the best way, of course i can only hope that i get to experience that feeling more in the future maybe in the present, too p.s. i got your book again yesterday, here’s hoping second time’s the charm -H

Yesterday, Eddie thinks, he should have been more present and paid attention to what H’s note said. He’d sort of gone into tunnel vision when he’d been - however jokingly - accused of not understanding one of his books. It kind of made him wish for the first time that he could talk back. He’d contemplated just walking up to Hagan during lunch, but decided not to. He wouldn’t want to make anyone suspicious of the guy, no matter how much of an asshole he tends to be to everyone else. Eddie just isn’t that kind of person. 

The audacity of a jock who’s admitted to only reading books for school - and for Eddie - to allege that Eddie needs to read a book more than once in order to understand it. 

Has he read all of his favorite books more than once? Yes, but that’s only because they’re his favorites!

And does he notice something new nearly every reread? Also yes, but he chooses to believe that’s what Tolkien intended. It’s like a scavenger hunt of foreshadowing and little things to get excited about even when you know the ending. 

Anyway, Eddie is decidedly less preoccupied today and he’s been wondering what book H is reading.

His curiosity leads him to venture into the school’s library before he heads to the lunchroom. 

He tries to recall which books he’d checked out the last couple of months. Once he’s compiled his mental list, he tracks them down one by one. Eddie checks the card that’s in a pocket inside the front cover of each book on the off chance that Hagan’s name is logged on any of them - it’s not. 

Eddie does find it interesting, though, to see a pattern in a few of the names he does see. Those that pop up multiple times are mostly people he recognizes from Hellfire.

He slowly eliminates each book until he’s left with one that’s not on the shelf. The Return of The King. The last book in the The Lord of the Rings series. 

Most staff - like the students - at Hawkins High aren’t very happy when they see Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson approaching them. The school librarian isn’t one of them, though. Eddie’s been traipsing through this library for the better part of four years. 

Before he’d procured his prickly personality and style as a defense mechanism to the hostile environment of high school in rural Indiana, Eddie found shelter among the creaky furniture, shelves lined with books, and Ms. Hewitt.

She’s seen his sorry face more times than you can count and has always greeted him with a smile. Today is no different. 

He asks her about The Return of the King.

“Someone beat ya’ to it. Nice young man, he was.”

And while Eddie wouldn’t necessarily refer to Tommy Hagan as nice, he would for H. 

Eddie thanks and bids her farewell and then he’s off to lunch. 

He’s still having trouble conflating Hagan and his better half as the same person. 

So, H read the last book of an already complicated series without any backstory. No wonder he was so fucking confused. Eddie laughs to himself just imagining it. Against his better judgment, he’s hopelessly endeared. 

He’s late to lunch, but it’s not as if he was planning on paying for what the school thinks passes for food, anyway. 

When he takes his seat at the head of the table, Jeff places an apple from his homemade meal in front of him without even looking his way or pausing his debate with Gareth (the freshman who’d flipped Eddie’s world upside down by unknowingly revealing H’s identity as the one and only Tommy fucking Hagan).

Eddie absentmindedly munches on the fruit as he takes up his usual lunchtime hobby of gazing at a certain jock’s table. He finds it sort of odd when Harrington - Steve - forces Hagan to play musical chairs or some shit, but Eddie’s not intrigued enough to care, really. He does catch sight of Hagan’s red face and clenched jaw, though. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think the guy was pissed. 

The change of seats provides Eddie with something more worthwhile to look at, so he’s not complaining. Steve seems in high spirits, and Eddie feels his own mood brighten in return.

When their shared elective comes along, Eddie finds himself jittery as he awaits the boy’s arrival. It makes him feel sort of silly, but not enough to lessen the excitement when Steve finally arrives.

The jock takes his seat between Eddie and Carol and turns to greet the latter.

“Carol, Robin.”

“Steve,” the girls say simultaneously without looking in his direction at all. Eddie doesn’t pretend to know what’s going on there, and he honestly doesn’t want to.

Steve then turns to his left to face Eddie, and the last thing he needs is to be limited to the same dry conversation - if you could even call it that - so he cuts him off once he starts.

“Ed-”

“Steven Harold Harrington III. How now?” Eddie has never been the best at English accents, but he figures it gets the point across just fine.

Steve’s face splits into a grin before he forces his expression into a stoic one. He continues to adopt the most heinous English accent Eddie has ever heard - including his own. “That’s His Majesty Steven Harold Harrington III to you, Edwin,” he says snottily.

Eddie can’t help but break into his own grin. Never mind the fact that Eddie’s name isn’t fucking Edwin, but Edward. Few people embrace his antics, let alone engage in them. 

Eddie is so gone on this boy. He was kidding himself thinking he could stay away. 

Steve Harrington might just be the end of him.

tag list (closed)

@sofadofax @noodle-shenaniganery @queenie-ofthe-void @friendlyneighborhoodgaycousin @devondespresso

@dreamingtheimpossibe @plutoshelm @jaywhohasthegay @scarlet-malfoy @hotluncheddie

@dreamy-jeans137 @justdrugsformethanks @estrellami-1 @travelingtwentysomething @sleepy-steve

@wheneverfeasible @bisexual-and-broke @lil-gremlin-things @n0-1-important @xxbottlecapx

@tinyplanet95 @dannys-guilt-ridden-cockroach @theohohmoment @corvus-perplexus @hippieg1rl420

@blurryjoji @bookbinderbitch @arthurianace @dragonmama76 @thesuninyaface

@tillystealeaves @p0lybl4nkk @sageclipse @mugloversonly @chameleonhair

@thedragonsaunt @yesdangerpls @sanctumdemunson @slv-333 @loguine-linguine

@resident-gay-bitch @anaibis @moomkin77 @thrashbatx @salchica

@flustratedcas @ajeff855 @nerdyglassescheeseychick @pearynice @imaginary-maggie-waggie

[subcultureblues]

Don’t You Want Me (Baby?) Pt 1

Steve and Eddie have been hooking up and are about as bad at keeping a secret as they are dealing with their feelings. (Dustin POV)

———

“For the record, I still think this is dumb.” Lucas said over the wind.

“Yeah, well, you’re dumb.” Mike said, sharp witted as always.

“Got you there.” Will grinned, sidling up beside him on his bike. Mike shot him a look, vaguely betrayed. Will shrugged innocently and kept peddling.

“Alright, alright, let the court record reflect you’re both morons.” Dustin sighed, peddling between the bickerer’s bikes and cutting ahead.

All four boys skirted to a stop outside the trailer park. Dustin wiped at his forehead under his cap, the humidity creeping back up on them as soon as the air stopped it’s rushing by.

“Dude, if Eddie wasn’t picking up the phone, well, there’s probably a reason for that.” Lucas said, in that tone of his. The demeaning one.

Dustin just shook his head. Name one good reason to ignore your party? One good reason. Dustin certainly couldn’t!

He started walking his bike up through the dusty lot, leaving the rest with little choice but to march ever onward.

“Maybe he’s still sleeping.” Will said, lingering a bit behind the pack.

“At 1 in the afternoon?” Lucas rolled his eyes.

“What? He does, like,” Mike’s voice dropped to a paranoid whisper. “weed, right? Jonathan’s always sleeping in?” Mike looked behind them at Will, who shrugged.

“Eddie,” Dustin said his name rather uncharitably but he’s at his limit here, really, he is “has been dodgy weeks now. Doesn’t answer the phone, he’s never free on the weekend, never hangs out after Hellfire anymore - I’m telling you guys, somethings up.”

“Or maybe - he’s finally graduated after the third try and he’s tired of hanging around high schoolers all the time.” Lucas rolled his eyes.

Dustin shook his head at Lucas, because that can’t be it. Eddie loves them. Well, he loves Dustin and likes the rest of Hellfire’s fresh meat well enough. They bonded, alright? - after everything they went through in the Upside Down. Hell, they’re practically brothers. And it’s not just Dustin who thinks that, Eddie had said it first. Well, he called him ‘the little brother I never wanted’ but had said so sarcastically. Obviously, he’d meant the opposite.

Hard to feel wanted right now though, considering as of circa maybe a month ago, Eddie’s been MIA. He still shows up to Hellfire, obviously. But that was about it.

After stopping the clock on the apocalypse and banding together to clear Eddie’s good name, it kind of become a thing - Eddie taking them out to get slushies after a game. Calling up Eddie to tell him, not ask, but tell him they were all going to the arcade. He’d even gone to Eddie’s trailer a few times so he could help Dustin homebrew his subclass!

Steve had started tagging along too, usually. Him and Eddie even getting started to get less awkward around each other after a while. Not best friends or anything, Not like Dustin was hoping. But friendly. It had been totally awesome! And totally annoying that he had mysteriously gone to ground.

It’s possible Dustin’s being, well he doesn’t want to say needy...

It’s just, Steve started picking up extra shifts at work and spending a whole lot of time with Robin. Not that Dustin didn’t support their relationship. Steve’s been single so long, it hadn’t started verging on pathetic exactly, but it was a near thing.

It’s just hard for a guy not to feel neglected.

The four boys had almost reached the trailer when they heard it. At first Dustin dismissed it, surely the trailer next doors’ doing. But no, that music definitely coming from Eddie’s.

That in and of itself, wouldn’t be unusual. Eddie is likely the loudest human being on the planet. No, the weird part is it’s not thrashy, garbage can lid, Eddie-music but goddamn…

“Is that - “ Mike said, trailing off from sheer befuddlement.

“Culture Club.” Lucas could barely hide the cackle in his voice.

“What in the -“ Dustin muttered, throwing his bike in the grass and wandering up to the door like it was a gate to another dimension. For all he knows, it might just be.

“Eddie?” He knocked on the door. Nothing. He tried again. Obviously, someone’s home.

Dustin’s only met the man briefly but he didn’t take Munson Sr for being the bubblegum pop type.

Besides, Mr. Munson certainly wouldn’t be playing anything this loud unless those late nights at the plant had him going deaf. Dustin peeked through the window into the living room. More nothing.

“Oh man.” Lucas shoved him to press his face against the glass too. There was a slow smile creeping across his face, like he was suddenly overjoyed they had come to the trailer park after all. Lucas wasn’t gonna let their DM live this one down, not any time soon. “I thought he was supposed to be cool.”

“He is cool.” Mike said.

Dustin just sighed, threw his hands up, and started rounding the corner of the RV. Eddie’s van was here, ergo Eddie. Dustin was sure he’d be lurking around here somewhere. The rest of the boys followed, their previous hesitation now nowhere to be seen.

“Come on.” He gestured towards the window. They all leaned in and Dustin was already furiously rapping on the window. “Ed - “

Dustin’s eyes went wide. And maybe his face a bit pink.

Eddie was here alright.

He was laying in bed. Very much not alone. There were two of them, lying in bed together. They were under the covers but Eddie was sprawled out on top of someone, a thick curtain of hair hanging over both faces. Clearly, ew, kissing, based on, and Dustin might be scarred for life here, a hand gripping Eddie’s hair at the base of his neck.

As for the tunes, the obvious culprit was in the corner of the room. Eddie’s little cassette stereo.

“Eddie?” Dustin blanched before he could stop himself. And it was of course, in that exact moment Culture Club decided to betray them and the tape cut out.

Will went to shush him, grabbing his shoulder to drag him away but oh no, Eddie definitely heard something. The guy squawked and jolted up in bed, swooping the covers up to hide them both in their immodesty. Eddie’s eyes peaked over his elbow like a vampire leering over his cloak. He gaped at the window, clearly rather horrified.

The boys all threw themselves out of the frame, Dustin pressing up against the back of the trailer.

“What the fuck - “ he heard Eddie say. “What the fuck.” He sounded almost angry but closer to panicked. There was a vague whispering match, but whispering was never really Eddie’s strong suit, so they heard him just fine.

They heard something like a grown man crashing off the bed and gracelessly hit the floor.

“Relax.” Eddie said, though he did not himself sound relaxed. “No, it’s fine. We’re cool. You need to - I need you cool right now.”

“I know, I know, I know. I know! Christ, I’m sorry, ok? I didn’t - I’ll deal with it. Just - “

The boys were already turning tail and scurrying back to their bikes. Gone entirely red in the face.

“I told you this was a bad idea.” Mike said, the hypocrite bastard.

“No you did not!” Dustin huffed.

The front door swung open with a bang and Eddie came spilling out towards them as he, oh gross, scrambled to get into his jeans. He was still shirtless and sweaty, hair fluffed up like an angry cat. Looking rather frantic.

“It’s not what it looks like!” He actually looked properly pissed, hands shaking with it as he did up his fly.

“We didn’t see anything.” Lucas put his hands up, but the guilty way he refused to meet Eddie’s eyes kind of gave up the game.

“Nothing!” Will squeaked, beet red and squeezing his eyes closed tight. Just in case they hadn’t made themselves look incriminating enough.

“God, of all the shit fucking timing -“ Eddie’s fist clenched up in front of him and he let out a frustrated noise, eyes darting around the trailer park. “Look I can explain. If you just, ergh, give me a minute to think of something.”

“No need! We didn’t see anything, promise.” Mike assured him again, his voice nearly steady. Good for him.

“Right so. I guess, did I mention I’ve take up recently taken up semi pro Grecian wrestling - “

“Do you have a girlfriend?” Dustin couldn’t help interrupting him. Lucas smacked him. He gave Lucas a face, which was returned, so Dustin did it again even harder. But fuck Lucas cause it may have been the right thing to say. Eddie stopped fluttering, looked right at him. Squinted, scanning his face.

“You know you can just tell us. If you did. You could have just told us in the first place.” Dustin didn’t get why Eddie wouldn’t. Did Eddie think this kind of thing was too ‘grown up’ for them. They were high school freshman for Christ sake! The only one of their little crew who didn’t have a girlfriend was Will. And I guess Steve.

Allegedly.

Of course, Dustin didn’t believe that for a second.

“I - what?” Eddie perked up.

“If you had a girlfriend. Do you? Is that - “

Eddie huffed out a hysterical laugh. It was weird. But then, Eddie wasn’t exactly the poster child for Normal. Dustin crossed his arms.

“Sure. Yeah.” He took a big breath as he looked behind him back into the trailer. “I have a... my girlfriend.”

“Sorry. For coming over.” Will said, timid like a mouse.

“It was Dustin’s idea.” He took Mike for many things but never a rat. Dustin sputtered indignantly, throwing up his hands.

“And we didn’t even see anything, really! So if you’re worried about your girlfriend’s modesty, like - we didn’t see anything, we swear! Right guys?.” Lucas insisted. Mike and Will bobbleheaded in agreement.

“What the hell are you squirts doing here, anyways?” Eddie said, scrubbing roughly at his forehead.

“I needed to get my binder.” Dustin said flatly. And maybe to remind Eddie that hey, he’s still here too. Like, right here.

“Your fucking - “ Eddie said in disbelief, and then he laughed. “Your binder.”

“You weren’t answering the phone.”

“Yeah well I was busy.” Eddie said, eyes wide and awfully antagonistic.

“Busy getting busy.”

Eddie turned his wild eyes on Lucas

“Thin ice, Sinclair. Thin fucking ice.”

That just made him chuckle again. At least he half tried to hide it behind his hand. But Lucas always was the least cowed by Eddie.

“Is this why you haven’t been hanging around anymore, like all month.”

“Jesus. Henderson, I’m sorry, ok? Hard as it is to believe, I do have a fucking life outside the game.” Yeah, Dustin thought, it was pretty hard to believe. “Look, just give me a second.”

“I’ll be quick - “ Dustin made a move to come inside.

“No.” Eddie firmly hip checked him out of the way.

Eddie slipped back into the trailer. Through the open door Dustin could just barely make out the words.

“False alarm. No - actually. I’m being serious. They think - “

They think what? Think they have a right to be here at Eddie’s trailer. Taking up space in Eddie’s life. Well they do. The party almost died saving the world side by side with Eddie, they had more right to be here than that - Dustin just grumbled. He wouldn’t call her a harlot. But only because Susie’s voice was already in the back of his head, admonishing the thought.

Eddie came back and pushed the binder hard into Dustin’s chest. He was stumbled back a step. “Now scram.” He said, not leaving room for Dustin to get a word in edgewise.

“Look, I’m sorry I haven’t been around but I… See you at Hellfire, ok?” Eddie slammed the door in their faces.

“How great could this even chick be?” Dustin frowned. Great enough to edge the party out of Eddie’s life it seems like.

The other boys just shrugged. They all picked up their bikes.

“I mean, why can’t he just like, bring her along when we hang out or something.”

“I told you, maybe he just wants to hang out with someone his own age for once.” Lucas said.

Maybe Eddie’s too cool to bring his new girlfriend around his dorky freshmen friends. Is he embarrassed to introduce them to her or something.

“Come on.” Will said. “We should get back to Mike’s.”

“Yeah. Yeah whatever.” Dustin said.

———

“So our parents said me and Mike and Lucas could go to the arcade for an hour before it gets dark.” Dustin said to Eddie as they walked through the empty school hallway after Hellfire.

“No can do, compadre. Fight the good fight against those Space Invaders in my steed, yeah?” Eddie grinned down at him over the few boxes of mini in his hands.

Dustin huffed.

“What? Too busy hanging out with your girlfriend? Dustin said petulantly. “Just bring her along if your - “

The three most senior PC’s in Hellfire skid to a stop in front of them. Dustin and Eddie nearly walked straight into the wall of them. It was almost comical the way all their heads swiveled around to oogle at him. Jeff only just managed to choke back a chortle.

Dustin was honestly offended on Eddie’s behalf. Sure, dude was a drug dealing, super duper senior nerd/freak/metalhead combo who had been semi-recently accused of ritualistic dismemberment - but certainly someone was into that.

“My -? Oh yeah my, my - that.” Eddie winced, avoiding many, many eyes.

“Oh, and you have a girlfriend now do you?” Gareth huffed a laugh, in clear disbelief. Eddie glared daggers at him.

Dustin really didn’t see why it was that hard to believe. Eddie was like, really cool. It was an indisputable fact. If all of them could see it, why couldn’t some weird, off the wall alt girl see it too.

“I don’t want to hear a fucking word from you. Any one of you.” Pointing rapidly at all three of them, like he was warding off the words waiting right at the tip of their tongues.

“So who’s the lucky lady, Munson?” Jared said, like he had ‘held action, Vicious Mockery’ and simply couldn’t help himself. He was fighting a positively delighted smile. Eddie flushed.

“The DM giveth and the DM taketh away, and you would be very wise to remember that, Ser Elias!” Eddie said loudly, still jabbing his finger about like it made him more authoritative.

“Sorry man, just joking around.” Jeff grinned good naturedly.

“Yeah, I mean, good for you dude.” Gareth said, with a genuine smile. He tapped Eddie on the chest who childishly batted Gareth’s hand away.

“No, don’t do that. I - seriously guys, we’re not - it’s not like that. I’m not ‘dating’ anyone.” Eddie deflated, looking uncomfortable. The unflappable Eddie, looking all too flappable after all. He tucked a piece of hair behind his ear and huffed. “Just someone I’ve been screwing around with alright.”

Eddie walked past them. Dustin almost felt bad for bringing it up. Almost.

He turned to Gareth.

“So you guys don’t have any idea who it is?”

The guys looked around at each other, all of them shrugging.

“Who knows.” Jared shrugged again, this one still no more helpful than the last.

“Unless,” Gareth straight up giggles, “it’s that suburban mom Eddie’s been swooning over since sophomore year.”

“Yeah right.” Jared chuckled, shoving Gareth forward. They all continued walking.

“That… doesn’t seem like his type.” Dustin said, suddenly confused and perturbed and feeling like he doesn’t know Eddie Munson at all.

“You’d be surprised.” Jared grinned and clapped a hand on his shoulder.

They exited the school just in time to see Steve getting out of the car. Usually after Hellfire he didn’t bother. He just wanted to get the kids rounded up and out of the parking lot as quickly as he could ever really manage. Not today though. Eddie walked to Steve’s Beemer, parked in the stall next to his van.

“Munson.” He said with a small smile. He grabbed one of a few boxes of minis out of Eddie’s arms.

“Uh, Harrington.” Eddie gave a hesitant smile, before bowing his head with predictable theatrically.

“Hi, Steve.” Dustin said from behind. Steve gave him a fond nod before looking back up to the DM.

“So, uh, how was the session?” He said kind of awkwardly.

“Bordering on child abuse.” Eddie beamed.

“I got knocked out, twice.” Lucas windged, holding up two fingers.

“Whatever keeps you humble.” Steve shrugged. He turned back to Eddie. “So. Uh. Any plans for this weekend?”

Eddie blinked, then he raised his eyebrows with a haughty grin. “Dunno, had a few things in mind.” He shrugged.

“Cool. That’s cool. I did too. But uh, then my parents came home from their trip early.” Steve scratched the back of his neck. “So, you know, guess there go my plans for the weekend.”

“Huh.” Eddie frowned. “Bummer.”

“Shotgun!” Dustin decided, throwing open the passenger side door.

Mike, Lucas, and Will who also couldn’t care less about their inane small talk, were already piling into Steve’s car. Steve was lingering though, helping Eddie load his stuff into the van. Dustin’s glad they’re making an effort to be friendly acquaintances, especially since he’s pretty sure it’s mostly for his own sake. But come on, it was like, 3 small boxes. They had space invasions to thwart.

And of course, Lucas was still bitching at Dustin about his failure to come through with a healing spell.

“I’m a bard, what did you want me to do?” Dustin rolled his eyes.

“You have healing word!” Lucas said, to which Dustin roll his eyes. Again.

“Which does like, 2D-nothing!” He looked out the window, wishing Steve would hurry the hell up already. Him and Eddie were still talking? What the hell did those two even have to talk about? Eddie was giving Steve an optimistic grin, but Steve was just shaking his head.

“Healing touch than!” Lucas groused.

“Well, then you should have thought about that before you went down thirty-five feet away.”

“You could have dashed.” Lucas crossed his arms.

“Ugh. That would have defeated the whole - ugh!” Dustin rolled the window down impatiently. “Steve is it cool if I eat in your car?“ Dustin hollered. He wasn’t actually gonna, he just knew how to get the man’s attention.

“Absolutely not! You know the rules.”

“Don’t worry, it’s just a granola bar! Nature Valley.” Dustin shouted back.

“Don’t even think about it Henderson!” Steve said, already rounding the car. Eddie laughed brightly.

“Harrington?” He said.

“I - Yeah. Fine. Fine, alright.” Steve said to which Eddie smiled triumphantly. That better mean they were done with their little pow-wow.

Eddie climbed into his own vehicle. Steve opened the Beemer’s drivers side door but he didn’t get in yet. Instead he stood there running his hand through his hair muttering something to himself.

“See ya, nerds!” Eddie called out, lowering his own window. There was a chorus of goodbyes from the Beemer. “And Harrington -“ He started the van and a blast of guitar poured out. He smiled that Eddie smile. “You worry too much.” He said. And then he swept out of the parking lot with the sound of his obnoxious music on the wind.

“Yeah. Sure.” Steve said sarcastically. He got behind the wheel, Dustin’s threat of snacking seemingly forgotten.

“What was that about?”

Steve just waved him off and started the car.

Dustin eyed Steve skeptically. So what, were Steve and Eddie like, actually friends now or something?

Maybe he knows.

After a few minutes, Dustin finally broke and asked.

“Soooo, do you know who Eddie’s been seeing?”

“What?” Steve says, nearly swerving over the line.

“Jesus!” Lucas swore from the back.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Steve chuckled awkwardly, eyes now, thankfully, firmly fixed on the road.

“Of course he’s not gonna tell Steve.” Mike grumbled.

Dustin stroked an imaginary beard. The fog of mystery only grew thicker and thicker.

“His secret girlfriend.” Mike said, like a little know it all.

Steve just huffed a, sure.

“I bet she’s like, some badass metal chick.” Mike said reverently, looking out the window. “She probably has like face piercings and crazy dyed hair. Or like a shaved head or something cool like that.”

Dustin sighed. She probably was badass. Way cooler than they were. Way too cool to bring around the dork squad.

“Does that sound like anyone you’ve seen around here?” Lucas said skeptically.

“Yeah, I dunno. Gareth said he was into like… suburban moms.” Dustin grimaced.

“Excuse me?” Steve sputtered.

Will made a disgusted noise.

“I know.” Dustin shivered.

“Better watch out for your mom then.” Lucas snickered. Dustin shot him a dirty look.

“Yeah, no way.” Mike shook his head. “He had to be messing with you or something. Eddie probably has like, groupies and stuff.”

“Please. That man has no game.” Lucas said. Steve snorted but played it off like a cough.

“That man runs the game.” Dustin said defensively.

“You know that’s not what that means.” Lucas said.

“The real question is, how long has this little dalliance been going on for?” Dustin pondered.

“Hey, you nosey little twerps. I really don’t think this is like, any of your business.”

“At least a few weeks right?” Lucas spoke up.

“And how do you know that?” Mike said.

“Cause that’s how long it’s been that Eddie’s been using the phrase ‘busy’ to get out of stuff. I mean he’s a jobless, drug peddling hobo, I don’t think I’ve seen Eddie be busy like, ever.” Lucas said, scratching his chin. “Until a few weeks ago that is.”

Dustin grinned widely. “It’s elementary, my dear Watson.”

“It’s invasive is what it is.” Steve grumbled. “Also, he’s not a hobo. He has a house.”

“Well, I guess, technically it’s a trailer.” Will said, rather pedantically.

“Well, it’s got four walls. And he lives inside them. Ergo…”

“He’s also been a lot nicer.” Will said thoughtfully.

“Huh?” Dustin and Steve said, and looked at him in unison.

“The last couple weeks, don’t you think?” Will said, smiling faintly. “He’s been nicer than usual. Or happier. I guess.”

“I guess.” Dustin said.

“You think?” Steve said.

“Okay,” Dustin should have a houndstooth cap and a pipe. “We have our timeline. Now, we need to root out suspects.”

“Alright, this, whatever this is, stops here. You nosey little twerps need to mind your own business.”

“But - “

“I don’t want to hear it. No buts.”

And that was the end of that. For now at least.

Tag List : @reading-archieves @homoerotictangerine @bingbongsupremacy @aroseandherthorns-blog1 @wheneverfeasible @travelingtwentysomething @ineffable-monster-romancer @laughingphantoms

(Stayed tuned for emotional immaturity! Reply to be added to the tag list!)

[ghost-in-the-hall]

Fall For Me (Poly! Sleep Token x Fem! Reader) - Pt. X

Hello hello! After a long time away I have finally returned! It's good to be back! Here's an update for the Eepy's, I hope you enjoy it!

WARNINGS: Mentions of injury and blood, suggestive comments

My Masterlist! ~ A03 Link! ~ Tip Jar!

Part IX - Part XI (TBA)

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

“Got a second to talk?”

“Yeah.” You respond after a moment of hesitation, your voice raspy with sleep. “Yeah, let me just grab my coat.” You shove your feet into your boots. You glance at the group in your living room, silently telling them to stay put. All four of them looked ready to rush to your rescue without hesitation. But, if they got involved, it would only make the situation even riskier than it already could be. You shrug on your winter coat before stepping onto your landing. “Something wrong, officer?”

“That’s what I came here to ask you.” He responds. “Got a call? An unfamiliar pickup truck showed up in your lot. Four suspicious men were seen approaching your apartment.” He looks down in the lot at the beat-up truck sitting next to your car. “I'd say there's a pretty good chance they're still here.”

“That's really why you're banging on my door at the ass crack of dawn?” You ask in an annoyed tone, crossing your arms over your chest. “Well, I'm going to tell you right now, you're not getting in here without a fucking warrant-” He cuts you off by firmly saying your name.

“I'm not here to arrest anyone.” He explains in an attempt to try and diffuse your hostility. “I'm just here to check in. Are you in trouble? Do you need help?” He whispers, eyes darting between the door and your less-than-pleased expression.

You let out an aggravated sigh, “Mike, listen… the only reason I'm not running you off my property right now is because you've helped me out in the past. If I needed your help, I would ask for it. I'm not going to let you show up here and harass me or any of them because some fucking backwoods country bumpkin wants to demonize a different way of living.” You take a deep breath, seeing the genuine concern on his face. “This… isn't like last time; they wouldn't hurt me. I'm safe, promise.” He looks at the door and then back at you.

“If you even get the feeling that something is wrong, you call me.” You nod.

“Get back to the station. Your wife would be worried sick if she knew you were out driving right now.” You nodded to his vehicle, watching him descend the stairs before heading back inside the apartment. You stepped through the door, kicking off your boots and hanging up your coat with a sigh of relief now that the situation was over.

“Thank god, you're safe.” Vessel pulls you into his arms, his voice thick with worry. “What did he want?”

“Someone called to report an unfamiliar vehicle and four suspicious individuals entering my house last night; he was just swinging by for a wellness check.” You reassure him. “He might be a bit of a hard ass, but he means well. I'm sure he won't give you guys any trouble.”

“Bit of a sour start to our first morning all together, isn't it?” III chuckles, making the rest of the group laugh.

“And here I was, looking forward to cuddling up with you.” Vessel purrs, the tension from your unexpected visitor quickly melting away as they all attempt to soothe your nerves.

“Nothing is saying that can't still happen, Ves,” II responds with a smile. You see a devious smirk quickly pass over Vessel’s features. You yelp, and your feet are lifted from the floor in one swift movement. Vessel easily tosses you over his shoulder to carry you towards your bedroom. You giggle as he gently tosses you on the bed, quickly being surrounded by warmth as the boys pile around you. You lay sandwiched between II and IV, III holding one of your hands in his as he lazily plays with your fingers. Vessel’s hand possessively wraps around the curve of your waist as he reaches over II, needing to be somehow able to touch you. It didn't take long for your eyes to grow heavy, returning to sleep for the last few hours of dawn as the new day's light began to melt away the cage of ice that had covered the surrounding trees. 

You smiled as you woke up, pressing into the body's warmth behind you with a soft hum. A strong arm wrapped securely around your waist, his thumb rubbing slow, languid strokes across your hip. You reach over to find the other side of the bed empty. “-’s just you and me, lovey.” Vessel purrs. You let out a soft, pleased sigh.

“Is that so?” you ask in a slightly teasing tone, your voice still thick with sleep. Was that your plan all along? Get me in bed all alone?” He meets your playful smirk with a chuckle of his own.

“You’d like that, wouldn't you, sweetness?” he whispers, his grip tightening on your waist. Your cheeks grow warm, goosebumps erupting across your skin as you feel his lips brush over the shell of your ear. “Trust me, my first time with you isn't going to be some messy little hook-up in your bedroom.” He chuckles. “I plan on worshiping you like the divine creature you are.” A shiver runs up your spine as he presses his lips to your pulse. “Until then, we just have to be patient, don't we?”

“Fine.” You sigh in mock annoyance, making Vessel laugh softly. You rest your hand on top of his, languidly tracing the spaces between his knuckles as you allow yourself to melt into his warmth. “Where are the others?”

“They're making you breakfast. We all want to make sure you have a better day after starting on the wrong foot.” He explains softly.

“You’re sweet, " you say with a smile. “The power came back on?” He lets out a hum of approval.

“Clicked on a little while after you fell asleep.” You lay there for a few moments, enjoying the feeling of Vessel’s body molding against yours. You sigh as you attempt to roll out of bed. “And where do you think you're going?” He chuckles, tightening his grip on your waist. You roll over to face him, the playfully grumpy expression on your face making him smile. “Trying to run away without giving me a kiss? That's how it's going to be, hm?” You giggle as he pulls your lips to his.

You could get used to mornings like this. After leaving your lungs burning for air and your head spinning, Vessel lazily helped you get out of bed. Scooping you up in his arms to escort you towards the kitchen. “Well, good morning, beautiful.” III stood at the stove, bacon sizzling in the pan in front of him, IV at his side cutting up fruit and tossing it into a bowl, and II sat at the table drinking a steaming cup of coffee.

“Good morning.” You greet all of them. Vessel sets you down on the floor before collapsing into one of the other chairs that had been dragged into the kitchen. IV approaches you, holding out a piece of fresh fruit for you to bite into. He rests his hand against your cheek, carefully running his thumb under your eye.

“Eyelash.” He whispers with a chuckle. He holds it out on the end of his fingeMakemake a wish.” A smile creeps across your features at the simple request. You think about it momentarily before closing your eyes, wishing that every morning could be like this with them, and blowing the eyelash away. Your eyes flutter open to meet IV’s curious gaze. He presses his lips to your forehead before returning to the task he was completing prior.

“You hungry?” You smile as III wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you into his side.

“Starving.” You respond, giggling as he squeezes you against him, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“I'll have breakfast done shortly, love.” You stand up on your toes, sharing a kiss through his mask before allowing him to finish cooking.

“Well, good morning, baby.” II quickly caught your attention, a warm hand settling against your waist as he pulled you into his lap. “Thought you forgot about me.” He teases with a chuckle. “My pretty girl is getting so much attention.” He squeezes your hip as his gaze lazily trails down to your lips.

“Trust me, that’s not remotely possible.” You giggle as his forehead bumps against yours, holding his lips just out of reach.

“Good,” he whispers, “because after holding you in my arms this morning, I can't seem to think of anything besides you.” Your eyes flutter shut as his lips finally brush over yours. You feel II’s legs tense underneath you as you hear IV let out a sound almost akin to a growl from across the kitchen.

“Relax.” III states in a warning tone. “You can spend time with her, too.” You watch IV’s shoulders soften under III’s intense, almost corrective demeanor. “And II, keep it respectful, yeah?” III stood like a wall between the two men, ready to launch into action at the first signs of a fight.

You hear II make an annoyed sound of approval. The fact that he seemed to be acting like a child who had just been scolded by a parent almost made you laugh. You press your lips to his cheek, “I'm going to see if they need any help.”

“Don't let them work you too hard, love.” He jokes with a wink. You laugh, shaking your head as you hop off his lap. You walk up to III, crossing your arms behind your back.

“Head chef.” You address him seriously.

“Yes, love?” He responds with a chuckle.

“Where would you like me to help?” You ask, following III’s gase as it trails over to IV. He nods in his direction, smiling at you as you walk away.

IV tenses slightly under your touch, your hand resting on his shoulder. “Everything okay?” You grab a bowl from the cabinet in front of you and place it on the counter to pour the fruit into.

“I'm sorry,” he apologizes quietly, keeping his eyes trained on the cutting board. “Guess I'm just a little jealous.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?” IV sighs, his shoulders softening as he lets some tension roll from his body.

“No, you're absolutely perfect, love.” His eyes finally meet yours, the corners crinkling slightly as he smiles. “I just need to get out of my head, I'm afraid.” He finishes with a chuckle. Your heart skips a beat at the sound of him saying your name, “promise you're still my girl?”

“Of course.” You say, shooting him a flirty smile. “Besides, you still have to take me out on that date.” He chuckles bashfully.

“Yes, I do. I just want to make sure I think of something special first.” He gently nudges your shoulder with his own. “My girl deserves only the best.” Your cheeks grow warm, the two of you sharing a small glance before finishing breakfast in silence.

“All set, sweetheart?” III asks before clearing your dishes from the table.

“I can bring my own plates to the sink; I'm not helpless, you know.” You joke.

III chuckles as he strolls up to you, “And why should my pretty girl have to lift a finger?”

“You're such a flirt.” You tease with a flustered giggle. You sigh, standing to answer your phone in the other room.

“Thank god I got a hold of ya’.” The momentary panic that had bubbled up in your chest at the sight of the contact that flashed across your phone quickly died at the familiar calm tone on the other end of the line.

“Henry, is everything alright?” Henry McMann owned the dairy farm up the road; you had grown close to him over your time running the store.

“Everything's fine. Tree fell and put a damn hole in the barn roof. I was hoping I could convince those boys you have staying with you to come down and help; I could use their pickup truck to clean up the place.” Your eyes narrowed at the request.

“How did you know they were staying here?” You question.

“Whole damn town’s talking about it, kiddo. Hell,” he starts to laugh, “at least three people have called up here this morning asking if we've heard from you.”

“You weren't the one that sent the police here, were you?”

“No, ma’am,” he responds immediately. “Your business is your business. As long as no one's getting hurt, I frankly don't give a damn what you're getting up to.”

“Let me see if I can get Vessel to come talk to you; he'll be able to help.” After some gentle convincing on your end, you managed to get him on the phone. Vessel might be wary of strangers, but despite his icy exterior, he couldn't turn down someone who needed help. After a while, he carefully hung up the phone and wordlessly approached the others.

“Let's get going; we have some work to do.” You weren't exactly sure what Henry could have said to Vessel that made him agree to head out there, but you were happy for whatever it was. Pulling up at the farm always provided this strange sense of home. Seeing Henry waiting on the porch, a dark pipe lazily perched against his lips, was a sight you'd witnessed a hundred times at this point.

“Thanks for showing up.” Henry’s hand claps into Vessel’s with a firm shake.

“Thank you for giving us the opportunity to.” Vessel responds simply. “Why don't you show us this barn.”

The tree hadn't damaged much but couldn't remain across the barn’s roof. “We need to get the sheep to the other building before we do anything.” You caught Vessel silently nodding at III, who quietly slipped from the group. You stood by as the pair formulated a plan, Henry seemingly impressed by Vessel’s initiative to help. You startled at the bleating from behind you, turning to find that III had successfully managed to herd all the sheep together.

Vessel calls your name. " Why don't you take Henry inside so you can both warm up? The more people out here, the more dangerous it'll be.”

“You don't have to tell me twice.” Henry chuckles. “You boys drink coffee? I'll get a pot started.”

“That would be great, Henry, thank you.” Vessel responds before his attention turns to you. “Go on, love. We won't be long.” The sight of his smile was enough to put you at ease. If you were being honest, this whole interaction was going a lot better than you thought it would. You were expecting Vessel to be cold and Henry to be abrasive, but the two seemed to be getting along just fine.

“Oh, wait, they're going to need some chain.” You sent Henry inside, insisting you would be right in. You were just going to jog back over and tell them where to look in the– You skidded to a halt as you rounded the corner. IV stood under the tree, his jacket discarded on the truck hood and his sleeves pushed up to his elbows. His muscles strained under the weight of the colossal trunk; with a groan and one strong push from his legs, he lifted the tree from the barn. You hear him curse before pushing the tree forward, causing it to crash loudly to the ground. You watched him grab onto his hand, droplets of blood dripping from his fingers into the pure white snow. You were immediately consumed by panic seeing him hurt, the inhuman strength you just witnessed being pushed from your mind. You yell for him, rushing forward to see the damage. “Are you okay? Let me look.” The wound wasn't anything terrible, a gash left behind by what you were assuming was a sharp branch, just enough to cause him to bleed. “Come on, let's get you cleaned up.” He wordlessly followed you, allowing you to rush him inside and past Henry to the bathroom. You kicked the door shut behind you, pulling out the first aid kit from under the sink. IV stared back at you with confusion in his eyes, apprehension rolling off him in waves as he waited for you to address what you had just witnessed. He was snapped from his daze by you softly saying his name, “Can I see?”

“Yeah.” He sighs, placing his injured hand in yours. “I'm sorry you have to play nurse,” he chuckles. I wasn't expecting that bark to be so jagged.”

“It's no problem; it's what girlfriends are for.” He breathes out a sigh of relief as you smile at him. The silence still hung thick between you as you carefully cleaned the wound, being as gentle with him as possible. “So, you're strong enough to squat a tree?”

“I guess, on a good day.” He responds in an awkward attempt at a joke.

“Can you… Can all of you–?” You make a vague flexing motion, making IV chuckle.

“To an extent, yeah.” He leans closer to you, a smugness lacing its way into his words. “I would like to point out, however, that I am quite a bit stronger than II, thank you very much.”

You smile coyly at him, “As long as you're strong enough to sweep me up in your arms, that's all I care about.”

“You're acting like that would be much of a problem.” You swallow thickly, your heart racing as your eyes meet his.

“Try to sit still while I get you wrapped up, alright?” He laughs at your abrupt change in subject.

“Yes, love, whatever you need.” He leans in, gently pressing his lips to your forehead

“Is he gonna make it?” Henry asks, unbothered by your usual frantic chaos rushing through his living room, reading yesterday's paper in his recliner.

“Yessir, just a scratch,” IV responds with a chuckle.

“We're going to see what else they need help with; we’ll be back, " you explain before heading out of the house. You step onto the porch, pulling your jacket around you to try to shield yourself from the frigid wind. You squeal as IV effortlessly picks you up and tosses you over his shoulder.

“See? No trouble at all.” He teases before turning you into a more comfortable position, holding you close to his chest. By the time you had gotten back to the barn, Vessel and II had made quick work of chopping up the tree, the back of their truck filled with neatly sliced logs ready to be moved elsewhere.

“There you are! You were gone so long we thought she had to chop your damn hand off.” II chuckles.

“No, he got lucky this time.” You joke, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“You mind going to check on III? Tell him we're just about done.” You nod, running off towards the other barn. Upon entering, you couldn't help but laugh, watching III attempt to calm the panicked sheep.

“I'm not trying to eat your flock; I'm just trying to help.” He attempts to bargain to stop the bleating.

“Want some company?” You ask with a smile.

“Please.” III chuckles in response.

“I'm surprised they don't like you; Henry’s sheep are usually very sweet.” You muse, patting the top of one of their fluffy heads as you pass.

“I tend to be rather scary to livestock animals… for one reason or another.” He responds vaguely.

“Well, Ves wanted me to tell you they're just about finished.” He slides to the ground with a sigh, patting the empty cushion of hay beside him.

“Good, that gives me a couple minutes to spend with you.” He responds in a flirty tone. You tumble down next to him, allowing him to pull you into his side. “How's your day going, baby?”

“Well, I'm spending it with you, so I can't complain.” You say with a smile.

Your heart raced as he leaned in closer to you. “Glad to hear it.” His gaze drops to your lips, slowly tracing your features before meeting your eyes again with an eye-crinkling smile. “Do you think, um– Do you think I could maybe steal you away for myself tonight..? Only if you want, of course.” The memory of III confessing how he just wants to get you alone bubbled up in the back of your mind, making your stomach flip.

“If you can manage to get me away from the others.” You joke with a giggle.

III releases a sound somewhere between a growl and a chuckle. “Oh, don't worry about that, pretty girl. I'll make sure everyone knows you'll be spending the night with me.”

“Alright, III, bring them back in!” You hear Vessel call from outside. He stands with a groan, offering you his hand to help you up.

“Alright, everyone, let's make this as painless as possible.” He calls over the hoard of bleating sheep. He was surprisingly efficient at the task, rounding up the entire flock into one solid group to lead them from one building to the other. You noticed how he quickly spotted anyone who fell out of line, nudging them back with his knee as he barked to keep moving.

You jump as Vessel places a hand on your waist, “I think that went well, don't you?”

“I think you're right.” You smile softly, leaning into him as you share your hushed conversation. “Thank you for giving Henry a chance; he's pretty much family.”

“I can't say no to you,” he breathes out a chuckle. You asked for my help, and I'll always be there to give it to you… and, I guess, Henry doesn't seem so bad.” He playfully nudges your shoulder.

“You boys hungry? The wife and I would like to make you some dinner to say thanks for helpin’ out.” Vessel looks to the others for a response.

“Well, you know I could always eat.” III chuckles with a shrug. 

You hear II sigh, somewhat relieved, “Would either of you like help in the kitchen?”

“No, you've done more than enough. All of you.” Henry confidently walks up to Vessel with a look of determination. “After today, I can tell just how much bullshit those reporters are trying to fill everyone's head with. You're a good group; if you ever need anything, just let me know. Just make sure you take good care of my girl.”

Vessel smiled, genuinely shaking Henry's hand. “Thank you; I really appreciate that. And, trust me,” despite the mask covering his face, you could feel Vessel’s eyes shift to you. I plan to.”

You stood side by side with May, Henry’s wife, in the kitchen, helping her wash vegetables for dinner. “Those boys seem very sweet on you.” She gracefully dances around the subject. Your cheeks grow warm as you struggle to think of a way to explain your four boyfriends. “They're all very handsome; you'll have to come by and tell me about them sometime.” She whispers giddily.

“I’d love to; they're all amazing. I'm happy you finally get to meet them.” You jumped at the loud boom of laughter from the living room, smiling at the sound of the group.

“I think Henry likes them too.” She chuckles.

May insists she can finish up the cooking herself before sending you out into the commotion. You couldn't get over how lovely they all were, genuinely enjoying their time sitting in Henry’s cramped living room. The house was full of laughter, stories, and all the small things you missed about being at Henry's farm. The hours flew by, and before you knew it, you were comfortably tucked into the truck's cab, settling into III’s lap while Vessel drove towards their camp. III wraps his arms around your waist, chin settling against your shoulder. “How's my pretty girl?” He whispers.

“Good.” You reply with a pleased sigh. “Tired.” You follow up with a chuckle.

“Do you still want to spend the night?” A shiver runs down your spine at the feeling of his warm breath against the shell of your ear.

“Of course.”

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

Tag List: in comments!

[xetlynn]

Twilight Imagines- Jasper x Reader

Curiosity

[Masterlist]

Requested by: @futurequeen2018-blog

“Are you sure you want to come?” Bella asks me as we had just gotten into her truck. “Isn’t this against your guys' agreement or something?” Starting up the vehicle but also not glancing my way. I hum softly, not really knowing how to respond. It is against the treaty to go on one another’s land they claimed. 

Technically on the other hand if they get permission it is different. And I have permission from the one and only. Carlisle Cullen. I know my family would be angry. 

Very angry. But what they don’t know won’t hurt them. “Just go, questions will be answered in due time.” I joke with Bella, snapping my seatbelt on. Surprisingly she takes it and reverses out of my mother’s driveway. 

The only reason I got permission from the vampire was because I was with Bella when Edward came over. I pleaded with her boyfriend to let me talk with his “dad.” I needed to know their side of the story. Everyone’s history. I believe my people of course. I had to know more. I got to call the sculpture of a man. His voice was sultry, smooth and almost angelic. I felt safe instantly and I now understand why Bella trusted them so. 

I explained my curiosity, my interest in learning about them, he told me the dangers. On both sides. I knew what I was getting into. It wasn’t difficult to push though, with a sigh from him he told me I was welcome to come over with Bella, to keep it a secret. 

“We’re here.” Her voice startles me, my eyes widen but I quickly calm myself. Giving a small smile and exiting the loud red vehicle. “Oh.” I mumble, slamming the door shut behind me. Four of the Cullen’s were already outside to greet us. Edward rushed to his lover as I walked toward the other three. Carlisle reaches a hand out and I take it. Curtly shaking it, then letting it drop to my side. “An honor, [Name].” He nods his head, I do the same. “Thank you.” I say. 

“This is Esme and Emmett.” He introduces me to the pretty duo beside him. His wife and other “Son.” Esme gives me a gentle smile, not offering her hand though. “Nice to meet you again.” 

Oh, right. We’ve met before. “Yes, it is.” I attempt a smile but now I’m beginning to wonder if this was such a good idea after all. “Don’t go all wolf on us now, come inside.” Emmett’s voice booms loudly, motioning for me to follow him. I glance back to Bella’s red truck then over to Carlisle who gives me a reassuring expression. I let out a breath, letting my feet take over. 

As beautiful as their house is outside it’s even more gorgeous inside. I soak everything in, my eyes wandering everywhere. I notice the other three Cullen’s in the living room as we get to the kitchen. They were talking amongst themselves. The blonde’s beauty was almost overwhelming and then my eyes landed on the other girl. Her eyes are already piercing into mine. 

Once she sees me look at her she gives me a genuine smile which I wasn’t expecting. I smile back, shortly waving. As I went to look at the guy he was walking away. Seemingly… upset? “Hi, I’m Alice! You strangely don’t smell awful.” The girl from before is now in my face and I take a step back, alarmed. 

“...hi, and thanks?” I shyly respond. Jacob told me they despised wolves, why are they being so nice to me? “It is weird that you smell decent.” The blonde interjects the conversation that I think I was going to have with the short brunette. “Um- I don’t know how to respond to that.” I awkwardly chuckle, avoiding eye contact with them. 

“I thought it was just going to be Carlisle and I.” I rub the back of my neck, changing the subject. I didn’t expect to meet everyone. Well almost everyone since that one guy didn’t want to meet me. For some reason it kind of hurt my feelings? I don’t understand why. 

“That is what was supposed to happen but they are nosey. Felt entitled to meet you.” Carlisle steps in, placing a hand on my shoulder. “Oh, well if they want to stay for the time being I don’t mind hearing everyone’s side of things. That’s why I’m here.” I smile, folding my arms in front of my chest, mainly to comfort myself.  “If you’re alright with it.” He repeats, I glance at everyone who was kind of staring me down. I swallow thickly, looking back up to him. “It’s fine.” I almost whisper. “Let’s go to the couch, to get more comfortable.” Esme leads the way into the living room. “I’m Rosalie by the way.” The beautiful woman says, nudging my arm. “[Name].” I say back. 

We all sit down as a group, except Emmett who stays standing behind his wife. Rubbing her shoulders every now and then. 

And this is kind of how it’s been since that day. We talk in the living room of their house, telling me their stories. Carlisle always has more to say due to being the eldest out of all of them. Hearing the heartbreaking things they’ve been through to be who they are now just makes me not understand why we hate them so much. Not all of them are evil, just like not all humans are evil. It’s a 50/50 chance to meet someone bad. You never truly know who you are going to meet. It’s scary but that’s the price of living. Or not living in their cases. 

Everytime I come over, there’s that one guy who always leaves the house. I learned his name is Jasper. There’s only been two times where he has stayed, It’s not for a long time either. For thirty minutes at most and it seems like if I look at him too much he tenses up and that’s what causes him to leave. I ask Rosalie and Alice about him quite a bit. Curiosity getting the best of me. Emmett makes fun of me, telling me I have a puppy crush on him. Insulting if you ask me. 

Alice always tells me it’s nothing personal with him; he just has a hard time opening up to people. Especially when he finds them interesting himself. Or threatening and I hope it’s the first one because I only want to be his friend. Like I became with the three, more Rosalie, kind of Emmett as well. 

Alice has been leaving with Jasper more recently, I don’t know why. She didn’t explain it but I can tell something serious is going on. Something to do with Bella. No one will tell me anything though. I think it’s because of me being a wolf. 

With that being said it’s also been hectic at the Rez. Paul, my cousin keeping a closer eye on me. Making me stay with the pack to train. Again it is kept a weird secret against me. Until I found out from Jacob and Leah talking. Some vampire is making an army of newborns to kill the Cullen’s. Wanting Edward and mainly Bella dead. They’re tracking her scent and everything, someone’s been in her room. 

When I found out I ran to my car, driving to the Cullen's place, I didn’t know someone was following behind me though. Shoving my gear shift into park I run up to the front door, knocking like a mad man. The door opens and I immediately begin talking. “Why didn’t anyone tell me that’s what we’re training for? Supposedly I was training to literally do nothing too.” I glare at the person before me. It was Jasper. When my eyes landed on him something felt different. The world getting brighter. My heart rate quickened. My breathing stunted. “I- What?” I whisper, before I can say anything else though I hear a scoff behind me. 

“Are you kidding me, [Name]!?” My cousin Paul shouts behind me, Jasper and I look at him with wide eyes. “I don’t know what happened! Wait! Calm down!” I step off the porch, Jasper right next to me, trying to explain what I just did. We’ve never even talked to one another and I just imprinted on him. How stupid am I? Can a wolf even do that with a vampire? Is that natural? Is that okay? 

“You imprinted on a vampire, [Name]. What the fuck is wrong with you?” He screams in my face, Jasper places a hand on my cousin’s chest. “Hey, it’s not her fault and you know that.” He sticks up for me. I tense up as Paul glares at him. “Don’t touch me, freak.” He shoves the guy. I feel my skin get hot. 

“Don’t touch him!” I scream and push Paul back, causing him to stumble. 

All of a sudden I’m not onto the steps of the porch, hurting my back. I look back to see the Cullen’s getting in defensive stances. My eyes go back to the guys in front of me. Paul backs up and I think he’s going to walk it off but instead he runs back toward Jasper, shifting into his wolf form. Jasper braces himself for impact but I quickly get up shifting in my own form. Attacking Paul from the side. 

Both of us get up after rolling in the dirt. I shake it off, getting in front of Jasper protectively. Baring my teeth at my cousin. Snapping when he gets too close. “You’re going to fight for him over your own family!?” He questions me. “He’s my mate now, I have no choice.” I growl. He gets close to me but I snarl. Standing my ground. “It’s in our rules. You can’t harm my imprint, Paul.” I remind him. He attempts to get at me again but when I don’t move he pauses. Not responding to me. Just staring me down. I do the same, not losing my stance. Then suddenly he huffs, running off. 

I look back to the Cullen’s whimpering as an apology, bowing my head down. Closing my eyes. Not believing the mess I just made. How could I imprint on Jasper? Why did I have to do that!? He probably resents me now, I screwed up my every chance of being normal to him. 

“It’s okay, hun.” A country accent rips through the air, a hand petting under my chin and I look up to see Jasper giving me a gentle smile, his dimples forming. “You did nothing wrong, [Name].” Edward tells me, shocking me. I just wish I was in my human form but I know if I shift back I’ll be naked. 

“Go get her a blanket.” Jasper says, as if he was reading my mind. I know he can feel my emotions, but not read my thoughts like Edward. Alice comes toward me with a large blanket, wrapping it over me back giving me enough privacy to go back to my human form. 

When I do I grip the blanket, covering myself. “Thank you.” I huff, feeling sweaty and gross. “No problem, love.” Jasper helps me up, keeping an arm wrapped around me. “I understand if this is weird for you.” I automatically say to him. He breathes out a quiet laugh. 

He looks around at the others, giving a look as if to tell them to leave us for a moment. They do so, going back inside. “We never even spoke and now we’re supposed to be mates.” I drop my head, embarrassed with myself. “It’s definitely interesting.” He squeezes me closer to him. 

“Don’t you find it weird?” I ask, hiding my face in the blanket, we both sit down. “Mm, I was fond of you before you imprinted. I think this just gives me a push to get to know you.” He tells me, I gasp quietly, still hiding my face though.

“You were?”

“Yeah, nerves got to me, I couldn’t read your emotions when you looked at me. You were happy when you spoke to everyone but when you looked at me it was confusion..? I don’t know.” He explains. It grows quiet as I begin to register what he’s telling me. “Can I see your face?” He asks. I slowly do it, looking up at him. 

“You’re embarrassed.” He states. My face grows warm. “Who wouldn’t be in my position? I’m naked and I just imprinted on this handsome guy that also happens to be a vampire?” I dramatically explain, almost dropping the blanket but he lifts it back on my shoulder before that happens, leaving me with an even warmer face. “Don’t be embarrassed. I’m happy with what happened.” He stares into my eyes to prove his being genuine. “Are you sure?” I quiz. 

“Positive.” He snickers. “Can I kiss you?” I blurt out, only making him laugh more. “Yes, you can.” 

I reach out with a covered hand and touch his face, pulling him into a kiss.

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

I'm super sorry this took forever to come out, I've been busy with another move, along with a bunch of other personal stuff. I have been working on writings during this time I just haven't had time to edit and post it. Expect a few things to be posted within these next few days. Hopefully at least:)

[redeemingvillains]

the black lake - mattheo riddle

summary: mattheo is hogwarts' triwizard tournament champion, and he's proven that he can crush the competition. but when the stakes are raised, and you're involved, nothing will get in his way.

word count: 2.3k

a/n: this was was so fun to think about! lots of references to goblet of fire! lots of swearing, matty is not a happy camper in this one. enjoy ♡

Obviously this boy would put his name in the Goblet of Fire (all of the boys did) and there would be a lot of feelings about him being chosen as the Hogwarts champion, lots of accusations about him rigging the selection (he probably did). But he'd definitely crush the competition, especially when he had the right motivation...

ˋ°•*⁀➷

It's the morning of the second task, the day crisp and frosty, creating puffs of air as Mattheo huffed in exertion, marching down to the Black Lake surrounded by his friends. Suffice to say, he was pissed. It was fucking frigid outside and he hadn't seen you all morning, the combination enough to set him dangerously on edge.

You'd told him you'd come spend the night with him, and if nothing else you always ate breakfast together, so when you didn't show up last night and you were nowhere to be found this morning he was furious that you'd blown him off. Now he was spending his entire walk from the castle to the lake ruminating over it, piling on every perceived slight over the last few days, including the way he saw you talking to a group of guys from Durmstrang in the Great Hall yesterday, causing him to involuntarily curl his hands into fists at his side.

His friends walked beside him, surrounding him in a sort of semicircle, but moving in complete silence; they knew better than to try to say anything to him when he was in a mood like this. Before long, Pansy came running to meet them, nearly out of breath as she said, exasperated, "I couldn't fucking find her. She's not anywhere in our dormitory, in the library, I don't know where she's gone." Concern and frustration laced her voice as she looked at the group and then up at Mattheo.

This wasn't like you.

You had been Mattheo's #1 supporter throughout the whole tournament, helping him prepare, cheering him on, jumping into his arms the moment he'd defeated his dragon, and generally always glued to his side. In fact, you were always glued to all of their sides, the group of you being nearly inseparable, so having you missing made all of the boys feel shifty and on edge as they looked at one another.

Fear bloomed in Mattheo's chest. And the feeling of fear when it came to you did not sit well with him. He didn't want to feel afraid, to feel vulnerable when it came to you, so he opted to shove the feeling down, keeping instead with anger which was much easier and more natural to him.

"I don't have time for this" he muttered, quickening his pace as they all scrambled to keep up with him.

The biting wind whipped through his dark curls and stung his cheeks as he stood on the platform above the lake, staring into the middle-distance of the dark and choppy waves. Students and staff alike were cheering and shouting their encouragement for their champions, but he was completely zoned out, his mind bouncing back and forth between your lingering absence and the task ahead of him. He only perked up when Dumbledore's loud voice rang out over the crowd.

"Welcome to the second task!" it radiated.

"Last night something was stolen from each of our champions, a treasure of sorts—"

Mattheo's heart plummeted so fast into his stomach that he subconsciously grasped at his chest. A treasure? There wasn't a thing he owned that he valued enough to call a treasure, not a single thing in his life that held that much weight... except you. You were undeniably his treasure. He looked back into the murky water of the Black Lake... it couldn't be... he thought ... surely they wouldn't... as Dumbledore's voice continued.

"—These four treasures, one for each champion, now lie on the bottom of the Black Lake—" Mattheo's stomach lurched with what little breakfast he'd been able to eat as his eyes shot to Pansy's in the crowd in enough time to see her clasp her hand to her mouth as she pieced the situation together.

"—In order to win, each champion need only find their treasure and return to the surface. Simple enough. Except for this. They will have but one hour to do so and one hour only. After that, they'll be on their own. No magic will save them."

Mattheo's feet were moving before Dumbledore said another word, sprinting towards the water because fuck this stupid tournament, and fuck the geezer for thinking he could take you away from him, that he could put you in danger.

"You may begin at the sound of the cannon."

BOOM!

Mattheo heard the blast as his body hit the water, diving headfirst into the waves without bothering to cast a spell, without a care to what he'd find within the foreboding depths.

The cold shocked his system, but his heart was hammering for plenty of other reasons as he pulled his body through the fierce current, his strong arms and legs working against the waves.

For a minute he was surrounded in dark nothingness. He could feel rather than see that he wasn't alone in the water, occasionally sensing something moving on either side of him, but he didn't have time, you didn't have time for him to care. His lungs started to burn and he pressed his wand to his neck, casting a spell frantically so as not to waste another second.

After swimming at an impossible pace for so long he wondered if there even was a bottom to the lake, he heard an ethereal sound, like singing and changed course to swim towards it, which brought him to a large clearing where he could see merpeople swimming around. The few nearest him whipped their heads toward him, surprised at his presence as they turned to face him fully. He dared them, dared any fucking one of them to come near him, welcomed it actually, a chance to take out his rage, but they steered clear, perhaps sensing it would be a losing battle despite the tritons they carried and their razor-sharp teeth.

He swam on, his muscles straining, aching with the exertion of pulling his weight through the thick water at such an unwavering and desperate pace, but the feeling faded, drained from him, as four distinct figures came into view, four bodies, tethered and floating in the water, their hair moving eerily around their faces, their bodies stiff and still, like corpses.

He identified you immediately and he swam harder and harder until he was close enough to touch you. He brushed a hand against your cheek; your skin held a blueish tint and your face was expressionless, void of the smile that you always had for him, that reached your eyes, that lit up your face, the absence of it was enough to make his eyes sting in a way that had nothing to do with the brackish water.

He grasped your stiff form, the resistance of your body against his continuing to mess with his mind as he sent a spell to sever the rope that secured you and tried not to think about how rigid you felt in his arms.

His ability to breath underwater didn't matter for shit, because he was certain he didn't breath the entire way back, climbing harder and harder as he carried your weight with him, desperate to reach the surface, desperate to save you, thinking the entire time how fucking foolish he'd been to spend even one second mad at you today.

Finally, he could see the light of the surface, the grey clouds in the sky reflecting in the waves, and after a final series of strong kicks he broke through the current.

Immediately, he felt you come alive again in his arms, spluttering and coughing as you grasped for him.

"M-Matty!?" you said hysterically, the cold and fear in your voice setting his heart in a vice as your eyes fluttered open and you looked around in confusion at your surroundings. "What happened?! Where—?!"

"—It's okay, you're okay, you're safe" he said, pulling you against him, keeping you both afloat even as you rocked in the waves and he gasped deeply for air.

"C'mere, c'mon" he said, swimming with you in his embrace towards the platform, anxious to get you out of the freezing water.

The crowd had erupted into cheers when you'd breached the surface, and they were announcing that Mattheo was the champion by a long shot, not having been in the water for more than 20 minutes, the other champions still completely unaccounted for. But hearing talk of the competition and seeing everyone's ignorance about the whole situation as they clapped and smiled was pushing him to his limit as he hoisted you up to Pansy who greeted you with a thick towel.

Mattheo pulled himself out of the water, barely taking time to wrap a towel around his shoulders before grabbing three more and pulling them around you. You laughed under the heavy bundle, even as your shivering continued uncontrollably. "I-I'm okay, I-I'm okay" you said, trying to reassure him, even as you noticed that he wouldn't meet your eyes.

"Buncha fucking idiots" you heard him muttering as he rubbed your arms before he stooped down and swept you off your feet bridal style, one hand around your waist, the other holding on to your legs. The crowd cheered again, erupting in a sigh of "awws" at the gesture until he began barreling towards them.

"Matty?" you asked, concerned, "Where are we—?"

"—Anywhere but here" he growled as people began pushing each other to get out of his way.

"Mr. Riddle!" McGonagall chided, chasing after you both as you watched her from over his shoulder, urging him to stop as a couple of other professors followed in pursuit.

He veered towards the raised platform where the headmasters were seated, coming to a brief stop in from of Dumbledore who had stood to his feet.

"You are out of your fucking mind!" Mattheo spat at him.

Several people around you gasped, even Igor Karkaroff had the wherewithal to look surprised, impressed even, before Mattheo walked away, marching right off the platform and back towards the school as the entire crowd watched you go.

You could tell Mattheo was tired, beyond tired, physically, emotionally; you could feel his arms shaking against your weight.

"Matty, I can walk, it's okay" you said quietly, but he wouldn't let you go, wouldn't set you down, wouldn't even respond to you or meet your eyes. So you resigned yourself to resting your head on his shoulder, nuzzling against his neck which seemed to relax him a bit.

He carried you all the way to his room, making his way to the bathroom where he finally set you down and immediately began running you a hot bath. Wordlessly, he found a towel and a set of his clothes for you to wear, placing them at the edge of the tub before leaving without a word, closing the door gently behind him.

You looked anxiously at the closed door, aware that something was very very wrong, but also acknowledging that he might need a minute, and that you still couldn't feel the tips of your fingers or toes, so you resigned yourself to the hot water.

It felt heavenly, as did washing the muck of the lake off your skin and out of your hair. You reveled in the smell of his soap, like cedar and evergreen, but you were too anxious to sit there any longer than necessary, quickly pulling on his sweatpants and sweatshirt that engulfed your frame as you toweled your hair dry and pushed the door open.

Mattheo was seated at the edge of his bed, still dripping wet, his body shaking noticeably as he stared at the ground. He glanced up when he heard you, visibly relaxing a bit as he took in your warm, rosy cheeks and your soft smile, his mind flashing for only a moment to your unsmiling rigid form floating in the water, trying to reconcile that version of you with the one in front of him.

You approached him slowly, moving to stand between his legs as you took his face in your warm hands, tilting it to look at you. He had a strained, puzzled expression on his face as his eyes drank you in before his hands came to rest on your waist.

"Babe—" you started.

"—I love you" he said.

Your heart somersaulted over the words you'd never heard him say before as you let out a small breath, your hand moving to cover your mouth in shock as your eyes widened.

"I'm-I'm a fucking wreck for you" he continued, laughing humorlessly as he shook his head. "Today... really fucked me up. I thought I'd lost you, I thought..." he paused, getting quiet "...The way you looked down there, alone, miles under the water, surrounded by all sorts of shit" he shook his head harder like he could unlive the memory of it all.

"I should have told you sooner, because I've known for awhile, for a long fucking time, but I've been too scared to say it, too scared that you don't remotely feel the same way, but that doesn't matter anymore, nothing fucking matters other than you hearing me say it, today, every day, I love you, YN." His eyes met yours finally, wide and sincere. "With everything I've got, I love you."

"I love you too!—" you whispered, and the words were barely out of your mouth before he pressed his cold lips to yours, pulling you into him so tightly you let out an involuntary squeak as your arms moved to wrap around his neck and he fell backwards onto his bed, continuing to mumble against your lips "Iloveyou, loveyou, I loveyou", smushing your kisses with his affectionate words until you were laughing with joy, the sound finally reassuring him that you were his, and that you were okay.

♡

@kenjikishimotoswifey, @mattiesgf, @sleepiibunniiii, @darlingshecried, @girlblogging777, @foivetimesacharm, @clar2aa, @broadwaybaby123, @slytherinscreamqueen

[katerinaaqu]

What's your opinion on how Telemachus was handled in Epic (so far) ? I'm curious 😀.

And what is different from his Odyssey portrayal ? Not counting the fanart that infantilizes him, I'm strictly talking about the musical itself.

Hahahaha you guys definitely wanna put me against a wall one of these days! XD But I absolutely LOVE this question! Hahaha okay here goes;

Absolutely I wasn't gonna talk about the fanart and all that is part of the designing process and arguably that is part of every person to do. They could easily choose the depiction more Odyssey-accurate and still use the musical sound so yes you do well to mention it because yes I myself wouldn't touch the design part in this ask

Anyways long story short; I don't like it.

Storywise it is overly-simplified and shows only one portion of his possible emotions; the one that tries to connect with his father. That part is genuine and I see where the portrayal such as the song "Legendary" came from. Arguably Homer himself also touches the subject of glory through one's deeds and I see where the musical came from when Telemachus says what he says but the song was too bbbly, too naive portrayal of Telemachus and in a way completely disregarded the true depth of sadness and depression in Telemachus.

In the Odyssey Telemachus never connected to his father because his father was never there. To the point where he was even doubting whether he was his son or not. He basically says that "everyone calls me that but how can I know? The dude was never there. Possibly never will be here again". His whole energy was the total opposite than Epic.

Epic portrays Telemachus in a manner that reminds me of Disney's Little Mermaid in "Part of your world"; a bubbly teenager who dreams to start his life or to be making a legendary name for himself like his father and in childish naive energy says "bring me all these monsters to fight them!" while in his childish naive nature was also making him afraid or worried to face the bullying of the suitors (the way the suitors were portrayed as if Jorge wanted to make them EVEN MORE evil also had me cringe like Antinous calling Penelope "tramp". Antinous called Penelope more or less "divious" because of her scheme against them but that was all. In here they are competing for her hand while calling her names without reason? Yeah right....). He seemed like the average teenager that needs the adult to get him to realize video games is not the life and that he needs to do something about his future! Does he also seem low-key sad? Yes. But just like Ariel in the Disney movie was pictured as a dreamer that wanted escape from his confided situation through bubbly and childish dreams.

Odyssey Telemachus was both emotionally and psychologically exhausted; his mother was taken down by grief and endless waiting and had confided herself in her chambers, trying her best to avoid the suitors that were at her home for FOUR YEARS, constantly crying at this point. Telemachus also saw his grandfather lose his mind in sorrow and his grandmother melting away by desperation and sadness and dying or potentially killing herself by it. The last thing he wanted was "to be legendary". In fact Telemachus gave me the exact opposite energy than a dreamer. He was very down to earth and his main goal was to get out of this nasty situation, trying to grow as a person to set himself free from this torment. He had so much in his plate that the last thing he wanted was to dream. In fact he gave me the impression of a person with no more the luxury of dreaming. He almost seemed crushed to the point of breaking himself almost like every other member of his family. (He gives me the impression of a person that after spent years of trying and fulflling their dreams now they are forced to work in a work they hate for survival and think that "dreams are for fools. No luxury for them!")

Like I said Menelaus described Telemachus as a spitting image of his father including his eyes, which is something I find the most important. Menelaus compared Telemachus's gaze to Odysseus; a man that fought a war with him! A man exhausted by the evil he saw and caused. Telemachus's profound grief was so intense that his look was equivalent to a man Menelaus fought a war with! He was the opposite of what we see in Epic! In fact we know that Telemachus was also very much silent and tried to keep a low profile so he didn't need to face the humiliation of the men that were literally plundering his wealth and harassing his mother and himself. The last thing he had in his mind would be to "be legendary". He was also plundered by the fact that not only was he doubting that Odysseus was his father per se but also he was in doubt that this Odysseus that everyone named his father would be alive or dead. He didn't know that. He was actually almost certain that Odysseus was dead but that part in the back of his head was not yet leaving him in peace which is why he needed Athena's guidance

Which brings me to the next part; Athena In Epic Athena appears to...give Telemachus the boost to fist-fight the suitors for some reason and mind you he still gets his ass handed at him! It made it seem as Telemachus's only problem was that he didn't have the guts or skills to fight the suitors and Athena gave him a solution! (potentially a message to stand up against bullies for teenagers? Perhaps but still I felt it massively undermined Telemachis's situation in the book) As I have answered to another person around here, Telemachus's problem was that the suitors claimed the law of hospitality and named themselves ODYSSEUS'S guests. Telemachus could not yet take over as king and he had no power to send them away. Plus he was plundered by doubt about his own inheritence. What Athena did was not to make Telemachus a fighter for he already was (we see how well he stands against them at the side of his father in the Odyssey) she came to encourage him to find out on his own.

Arguably the trip of Telemachus was a mirror counterpart of Odysseus's but instead of a trip that makes you lost like Odysseus was lost, it was a trip for self-discovery. Mind you, both the trip of Odysseus and the trip of Telemachus are cognitive trips; both characters learn in them and come in contact with places. Psychologically the trip allows Telemachus to escape this boarderline toxic grief in his home and explore the world. Also find out on his own information about his father. Now, arguably he never really finds out about his father's whereabouts for certain apart from Menelaus's vision but there is something he definitely gets out of his trip that is not talked about enough;

He finds out he REALLY is the son of his father and he gets information about what kind of man he was!

He hears from friends that fought with him how similar he looks to him; not just from his closed and secluded environment but of people outside his circle and his known people that he looks like him and they also give him information about him. No more the random comments the suitors he hated say or his sad mother who could either idealize his father to escape her grief or the loyal slave Euryclea who adored the family naturally like a mother; now it was also friends and known people of Odysseus that speak about him Telemachus is double-checking his information! Thus coming home much more confident on his inheritence and his own destiny and duty

Arguably the Odyssey is as much Telemachus's story as it is Odysseus's. Telemachus was in one way a spectrum of Odysseus; fighting a different type of war; losing himself in a different type of sadness. His story was a story of coming of age not a story of a goddess that teaches him how to stand up against bullies. Telemachus already does that in the Odyssey by calling the council. Arguably he was alays standing against the suitors but his position did not allow him to do something drastic! I think just like many things Epic missed this by a mile; reducing Telemachus's profound grief, sadness and uncertainty to an average teenage escapism story rather than the fact that Telemachus had no luxury or energy for escapism, Athena's advice for self-discovery to the average "raise your fists and fight your bullies" story ignoring the deep cultural details that led Telemachus to that tight spot in the first place and of course it completely abandoned the importance of Telemachus's trip which could be a subject of a movie on its own! (Quite frankly Telemacheia covers more chapters in the Odyssey than Odysseus's own flashback! It covers 5 rhapsodies of the Odyssey while Odysseus's story covers 3-4)

I hope this answers some questions! I will be happy to elaborate more.

[sakashq]

can we pleaseee get something happy 🥹 perhaps like a dad!pedri fluff? ♥️♥️ love you’re work by the way!

She’s Mine. pedri gonzález x fem!reader

🤍 summary: You and Pedri had a baby girl and you can’t get over how he is as a dad.

🤍 warnings: extremely adorable fluff + baby mara ☹️💕

🤍 wc: 500+

🤍 yap! i love you guys so here’s something happy <3 congrats on being the first request anon !!

🤍 my girls <3 extra special dedication to pedri’s real wife @planetpedri !! &&. @ar4ujos @hrts4havertz @iovepoem @joaoflms @halfwayhearted 💕

Three years ago,

It had been a few days since you had given birth to your beautiful baby girl, Mara. As soon as Pedri laid his eyes on her and held him in his arms he said, “She’s mine. She’s all mine” and you couldn’t help but smile. He had been excited for this baby the whole nine months through, helping you through the entirety of the pregnancy. Even though he won’t admit it, you swear he started crying when you revealed it to him.

Months later, Mara began to babble, saying things in her baby language only she could understand. Then her first word came; Papi. Another moment that Pedri refuses to admit made him shed a tear.

Once she started to walk, she followed Pedri everywhere. If he went to the bathroom, she would stand outside the door and wait for him. He wanted to cook? Okay, so did Mara. She was a daddy’s girl through and through, begging mommy to take her to his matches. And you would, wearing a jersey that was a little too big for her with her daddy’s name on the back and pigtails in her hair.

A year later,

Mara had begun speaking in full sentences. It was kind of broken, but she still tried her best. She had grown to be friends with Raphinha’s son, Gael. While the two kids hung out, Pedri and Rapha did too. You would stay and talk to Raphinha’s wife, Taia, and both of your families would sometimes go out together as one.

You remember one night Mara was a year and a half years old and you and Pedri were having a quiet argument while she slept. Your voices began to raise from just above a whisper, waking your baby.

“Mamá, papi, are you okay?” She asked, an innocent tone in her voice. She had inherited Pedri’s big brown eyes, which just added onto the softness of it all. Naive Mara was, not yet having the capability to pick up on things.

“Everything’s okay, nena. Come here,” Pedri answered for the two of you, Mara climbing into bed with the two of you, your small family falling asleep together.

A year after that,

Pedri and you decided it was time for Mara to have a friend at home, thus became the idea of ‘Nilo.’ Nilo was not one specific dog yet, but the two of you decided together that that was going to be its name. You decided to surprise your baby for her second birthday, and excited was an understatement.

“It’s a puppy!” She exclaimed as she chased Nilo around, petting him repeatedly once she reached him.

You caught Pedri smiling at his baby and his new dog. “He’s all yours, nena.”

The four of you would now go on trips together, one being the zoo. Mara was now fully walking and you and Pedri had taught her to hold him on a leash.

She would walk him around and show him the animals, pointing at one and saying, “Look Nilo!”

The ones she couldn’t see at her height she would whine and her papi would pick her up. She would gasp and say, “Mamá! Look!” And point out the color of the animal.

The next year,

There was a home match in Barcelona and Mara hadn’t been to one in a while. This time, you went with Gael and Taia, the children wearing customized jerseys with their own names on them while you and Taia represented your husbands.

At this game in particular, Pedri scored with Rapha’s assist. Although the kids didn’t quite understand it much, they still celebrated their fathers’ goal and assist together.

Instead of his signature celebration, Pedri decided he was going to dedicate his goal to his girls; you and Mara.

[senmiyaazx]

12 months and 365 days

Crowe x GN!Reader

context: memories of your first year spent in loneliness, and memories of your second year spent with crowe. (aka how you met crowe)

cw: a little self indulgent. mentions of bullying. self deprecating and social anxiety.

word count: 1673

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁༉‧₊˚.

It's your first day.

You're very nervous.

Of course, you finished high school before. But college was different.

And you didn't have anyone you knew here.

It's okay. You reassure yourself. You just gotta save up enough money to pay the debt, make a few friends and graduate. It's easy enough, right?

It's... your third day.

You haven't talked to anyone yet.

It's alright. It's only your third day.

You'll be fine.

Besides, there's this cool person you've been sneaking glances at lately. Hopefully you'll build up enough courage to talk to them!

Something gnaws at your nerves.

It's been two weeks.

Two weeks since you came to this city.

Two weeks spent alone at a table in a busy cafeteria. Two weeks of sitting in the corner of the classroom as if you don't exist.

It'll be fine. You can get by with no friends. You just have to pay the debt, and you'll be back home like nothing ever happened.

It's fine.

Three weeks.

You're paired up with someone for a group project.

They're nice. Really nice.

You found out you share a lot of common interests.

They ask to be friends. You accept.

You're really happy.

1 month.

Oh.

They've forgotten about you.

It's okay. You expected it so it didn't hurt much.

It seems they already had an existing friendgroup before you.

It's not your place to be upset. You were strangers after all.

It's okay. Just focus on your job. You'll be home soon.

Five months.

Why don't they ask you for a pen? You're right here.

You have complete school supplies. You always take notes in class.

The person in front of you asks your seatmate for a paper. They don't have one.

You did.

Why don't they ask you?

Why don't you talk to them?

You can't. Because you're too anxious. Scared.

Fear of getting judged.

It's frustrating.

College isn't so fun when you're doing it to save your only home. When you have no friends.

Seven months.

You've gotten used to it.

Sure, you can talk to your group mates just fine. Act friendly and all that stuff. But it never lasted long. Nothing ever did.

It's nothing too concerning now. You accepted the fact you were too much of a coward to just talk and reach out to someone. You're an outcast, and it'll stay that way forever.

Even if your inner self begged to be able to rant about your interests, your hobbies, your troubles.

Two more years of this hell.

Before you knew it, you're in your second year.

First day.

Nothing unusual. You're still alone.

It's boring.

Four more hours till you go home.

Second day.

There's this guy who introduced himself to you.

He seems friendly.

He told you his name, but you forgot. Oh well, it's not important.

Not like you two will be close anyway.

One week.

He keeps talking to you.

You learned his name now. Crowe.

You weren't exactly a jerk either, and it was rude to show your obvious disinterest in someone, so you tried your best to put on a smile as you listened to him.

It's awkward. He's aware of the tension in the air.

You feel bad, but it's okay. Give it a week and he'll move on.

Three weeks.

He. Won't. Leave. You. Alone.

What's wrong with this guy? He keeps acting all buddy with you.

You don't know him. He doesn't know you.

It annoys you how he acts like he does. How friendly he is with you.

You're sure he has some sort of ulterior motive.

Ah, whatever. It's not good to assume. At least you have someone sitting with you at lunch. Even if you're a little irritated.

Four weeks.

You volunteered to be a helper at the school gardens. It's good. Extra credits and a place for you to hang out. Alone.

Now you no longer have to be in the cafeteria.

Five weeks.

He found out about the garden. Keeps pestering you about it.

"Can I join? Can I help? I wanna see! Let's eat lunch there together!" He says.

It's.. so annoying. But you felt bad for him, so you accepted. Grudgingly.

Now you have someone pestering you in your comfort spot. Great.

He tells you he didn't expect you to be interested in gardening. You told him you lived on a farm. He's curious, but you refuse to tell more.

It'll be a waste of time if he'll forget about you in the end anyways.

Two months.

He's still there. He's weirdly persistent on being your friend.

You're starting to doubt yourself now. Had you judged him too much?

Still, it's hard to act friendly now when you've spent an entire year being ignored by everyone on the campus despite your attempts to communicate.

He doesn't seem to mind. You feel weird.

For once, you allow yourself to soften a little around him.

Three months.

It's been a terrible week. Burnout has caught up to you. You're in an incredibly tight budget and you're nowhere near halfway to your debt.

Is there really hope for you? Your father?

Right. You're doing this for dad. The farm.

You can't give up now that you've come so far, yet...

The frustration and stress is too much. He noticed this, of course. He's always so observant when it came to you. Noticing all the little changes and details that nobody else did. Not that anyone else paid much mind to you in the first place.

Still. It's weird. It makes you feel overwhelmed and a little overstimulated.

And it's because of the stress, you think. It's the stress and anxiety that you've been bottling up for years— and ended up lashing out on him.

He's hurt. You know it. You feel incredibly guilty.

You fucked up, didn't you? You always did. Now you lost the only person who actually liked you.

It's all your fault.

Three months and two weeks.

You haven't talked to him since then, despite his attempts to reach you.

You're the first to leave when the bell rings. You lock yourself up in the garden when it's lunchbreak. You dash out the school gates when it's time to go home.

You've seen the way he looks at you. Worry and pain plastered all over his face. It makes your stomach twist. You're guilty. You're aware of how much of a jerk you're being.

But you have no choice. After all, you were born to be lonely.

I'm sorry, Crowe.

Six months.

It's been so long. You're sure he's forgotten about you. Like you expected. It hurts, yet you ignore the pain.

One day, however, you're cornered.

You've always been an outcast. One that's genuinely forgotten by everyone.

Unlucky as you were, you never had to experience bullies in your life.

And now..

One of them pushes your bruised body to the ground. You shake. They laugh at you. Fuck people and their greed for superiority.

You hate it. Hate this. Hate yourself. Why can't you just get up and fight back? Are you really going to let them step over you like this when you're already miserable enough?

C'mon. Get up. Stand up!

Someone yells from a distance. That voice, all too familiar. One that makes your heart drop.

"Crowe?"

It all becomes a blur. You're on the ground, frozen in fear as you watched Crowe take the hits for you. Defending you as if you've known each other for years.

Why? Why would he do this? You don't understand. You don't understand him.

It's so damn annoying.

Slowly, you stand up. There's a rock nearby. You grab it.

And throw it against the bastard's head as hard as you can.

He passes out. His other goons turn around to face you with a murderous glare, and you tremble as they approach.

"One more step and I'll scream so loud everyone will think you're a serial killer." It's a stupid threat. You have no guarantee it'll work.

To your luck, it does. They turn away with a 'tsk' as they pick their friend up. It seems they don't want to cause any more trouble than they already did. Hypocrites.

You immediately turn to face Crowe with a harsh glare, striding towards him despite the pain in your body.

You grab him by the collar, bringing him close to your face as you yelled, confusion and pain evident in your voice. Desperation. "Are you stupid? Why the hell did you do that?! There's literally no reason for you to defend me, so why?!" You shake him back and forth. You shouldn't be doing this. Shouldn't be angry at him when he helped you.

You're just.. so damn lost.

He doesn't mind the way you take your anger out on him when he should. He should be annoyed with you. He should be as mad as you for getting angry when he's the one who helped you.

Instead, he laughs. He fucking laughs.

"Because you're my friend!" He grins stupidly, and you have half a mind to punch him the way those bullies did.

You don't. Instead, you let him go as you felt warmth rush to your cheeks and all over your body. Till your heart aches and leaves a stinging pain in your chest. Till the tips of your fingers tingle and leave your palms sweaty. Till your knees feel weak and you sit down on the ground with your head held in your hands.

"You're.. so annoying, you know that? You're fucking insane." Your voice was shaky. Yet you couldn't help the smile that crept up to your lips.

He stayed. He didn't forget about you.

You have a friend. His name is Jericho Ichabod.

Three years — present.

You're in the greenhouse. Brittney and the others are somewhere in the garden, doing their own thing. You're glad they're enjoying this little space of yours.

Crowe's saying something about flowers. You don't listen much, simply staring at him as you nod and smile.

You have a crush. His name is Jericho Ichabod.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁༉‧₊˚.

a/n: i've had this on my mind since the update. unfortunately I don't have any ideas for a sol fic yet:(

[midnight1nk]

EPISODE CONCEPT #4

What if... SMG3 had the courage to confess his feelings for the real SMG4?

For context, this is part two of my Episode Concept #3 [link], which many have asked for! @lovesick-simp, this is for you! (this is somehow longer than #3, holy shit.) Now, without further ado…

I promise.

He could never forget the feeling of tangible pixels leaving his arms. What once skin and clothes turned into mere 0’s and 1’s.

Those eyes, the ones he was willing to sink in its depths for hours, they cried. Of apology, of bittersweet farewell. He promised a lot of things, and one was to never let Four cry.

But it was never your Four.

At the time, a thousand thoughts passed through his mind. That this was simply a nightmare, or he had gotten too drunk. Or he ate a Wonder Flower by accident. Somehow, some way, this can’t be happening. He wanted to deny it all, but he knew. Why deny the truth when he fading away in your arms?

Goodbye, Three…

“SMG3?”

Three jumped at the mention of his name, turning to Tari who looked back at him with concern.

Tari: “Oh, sorry. Just wanted to know if you’re okay. You’ve been staring at Lil’ Spot for a while.”

He blinked at her, and then looked down at the gray-feathered duckling nestle in his cupped hands. Ah, yeah, he was.

SMG3: “I was just daydreaming, that’s all.” [*looks around, recalling where he was*] “It really is a nice place. It’s not far from the Showgrounds, right?” Tari, smiles: “Yep, I always like to come down here, it helps me clear my head. Plus, I get to hang around with the duckies!” SMG3: [*nods and with a finger, he soothes the duckling’s head*] “You were right before, I could use the fresh air.” “Eh, Tari, a little help here?”

Three looked across the way to see a couple of yellow ducklings climbing all over SMG4, who was standing by the edge of the lake. All over on his arms, his shoulders, under his blue cap. As Tari ran over to help, Four trying to not let any of them fall while giggling, tickled by their fluffy feathers.

Three began to smile, and perhaps he could let his heart feel that missing warmth.

Have courage.

But the cautious part of him didn't let him. He should've known better, he apologized to his heart.

Not yet.

Four and Tari came back with the tamed ducklings lined up in their arms.

SMG4: “If I spent a little more time with these little guys, they're gonna think I’m their mom.” SMG3, hums: “You always did have a thing for being the center of the universe.” SMG4: “Hey, it's not like I do it on purpose.”

And yet, you managed to become mine. But Three kept that thought to himself.

Tari: “It's getting late, and I told Meggy I was making dinner tonight. I should probably get them back to their mother.” SMG4, handing the ducklings from his arms to hers: “Yeah, we should head home, SMG3.”

Three said goodbye to Lil' Spot before handing the duckling to Tari, who promptly went to drop them off and returned. While Four was distracted, folding up the picnic blanket, Three leaned towards Tari while keeping an eye on Four.

SMG3, whispered: “Tari, could you please do a simulation check?”

Tari looked at him, her concern reflecting once again. He has asked that everyday. Any chance he was with her, it was the same. The first few times, she tried assuring him, telling him, “It's okay, SMG3. There's no need, you’re safe now.”

But it never seemed to calm his nerves. As much as she wanted to protest, she knew that it wasn't an unreasonable exaggeration. Whatever the simulation did to him must've been really horrible for him not to tell anyone what happened. To think he was back.

Tari nodded and programmed a command on the floating screen projecting by her arm. A window popped up saying, No detection of simulation.

Tari: “All clear.” SMG3, letting out a sigh of relief: “Thanks. I owe you one.” Tari, letting out a small smile: “No worries, we’re your friends after all. Though, I wouldn't mind having one of your cookies again once you’re healed.” SMG3: [*chuckle*] “That I can do.” SMG4, swinging the backpack over his shoulder: “Alright, ready to go?”

SMG3 nods. After saying goodbye to Tari, SMG4 pushed SMG3’s wheelchair on the path towards the Showgrounds.

It’s been over a month since Three was freed from the simulation. The Crew wasted no time bringing him to the hospital. The rest, well, it seemed like a blur. To Three at least. The doctors and nurses, what they said, he never caught it. He was lucky that his friends were there to remember for him. Three wasn’t exactly sure what to feel. Should he grieve? Should he be grateful that the Crew found him and his son?

What he did know was the promise that he kept.

The Crew was naturally relieved to see he was in good hands, but anyone could tell that they were exhausted from the stress of the search. So, while Three was going through recovery, they took turns watching over him. The rest, who didn't have the shift, took the chance to rest.

.・-: ✧ :--: ✧ :-・.

One night, Tari and Saiko were walking down the quiet hospital hall, Saiko holding a gift bag and Tari a duffle bag with colorful patches all over it.

Tari: “Do you think SMG3 will like the card?” Saiko: “He’s a big softie on the inside, of course he will. Let's just hope we can pry SMG4 away from him.” Tari: “You can't exactly blame SMG4. I mean, don't you remember? He didn't sleep for days, or even eat. He was worried sick.” Saiko: “But he needs rest too, not just us. SMG3 is rescued, he should let us take care of it, if he wasn't so stubborn.” Tari: “Well, that nurse did say SMG3 would be better soon. Maybe we convince SMG4 this time.”

They reached to Three's room, but they found an unexpected sight when they opened the door:

Four fell asleep on the chair beside the bed, his head resting on Three’s lap like a pillow. A sleeping Three had a hand gently on Four’s hair with all the tenderness and quiet reassurance in the world. What was free, their hands were intertwined. It was certainly a rare sight, and they seemed so at peace with each other.

Tari and Saiko shared a glance, a gentle smile.

Tari: “Aw, that's so cute.” [*snaps a picture for the group chat*] Saiko: “C’mon, let’s them be.”

Saiko tiptoed into the room and left the gift bag on the nearby table. Peering at them one last time, she gently closes the door. They could always come back tomorrow.

There, what awaited in the gift bag, were reminders of home. A bomb from his cafe, a mini-plush of Eggdog, a record of jazz music. A homemade card, one side filled with heartwarming messages and the other a drawing of all the Crew with the Castle in the background, one of the best works Melony has ever done.

.・-: ✧ :--: ✧ :-・.

SMG4: “I bet I can drink a thousand cans of Monster Energy.” SMG3: “Nah uh! You’re lucky I can’t drink that stuff yet because I would’ve totally beaten you!” SMG4: “Oh, really? Well, I can’t wait to see you try.”

The two laughed as they reached the Castle. Eggdog greeted them at the door, happy to see his dads (And yes, I know what I said, shh) after Three's physical therapy session and jumped into his dad’s arms for a quick hug. Beeg4 slowly followed his brother, only letting out a pufferfish noise as a small “hello”. He isn’t usually the affectionate type. Four went to get Three’s customized cane leaned against the wall, and helped Three get to his feet. (The cane was a gift from the Crew but Bob was the one who added neat little secrets for Three to use. Though, Bob wants it to be off the record that it isn’t because he’s gone soft or anything.)

Ever since Four proposed the idea for Three to stay at the Castle, this has become second nature for them. They switched out the wheelchair with the cane at home so Three would be more comfortable walking around. Plus, he would usually hold Four’s arm to lean on. After his physical therapy appointments, Four would cook up dinner for the whole family. Or see if there’s any leftovers or takeout on special occasions. Three recently got the approval to eat solid food again, and Three couldn't be more glad. He was honestly getting sick of the same old soups day after day. Well, even if they tasted good. And they all sit at their usual seats at the table, not that they assigned seats or anything. It felt natural.

And today was pizza night.

SMG3: “Y’know…” SMG4, setting the pizza down: “No.” SMG3: “Oh, c’mon. You haven’t even tried it, you big baby.” SMG4: “And I already know that your ‘Ultimate Pizza’ is a disgrace to culinary art. To your tastebuds. Who the hell puts baked beans on pizza?” SMG3: “Well, Eggdog likes it.” Eggdog, helping set the plates: [*happy bark*] SMG4: “Oh, so now you’re bringing the kids into this? C’mon, Beeg, help me out here.” [Beeg doesn’t respond] [*acts dramatically, like someone stabbed him in the heart*] “I’ve been betrayed. Pleh.” SMG3, shakes head amusingly: “Shut up and eat, idiot.” SMG4: “Yeah, well, you’re stuck with me.” [*taunting*] “Forever.” SMG3: “Oh no, whatever should I… do.”

He… said this before, hasn’t he?

SMG4, mouth full of pizza: “Uh, SMG3, you’re good?” SMG3: “Yeah yeah, I’m fine.” [*eats his slice somberly, looking away*]

Four kept his gaze on Three. He wanted Three to tell him what was in his mind. He wanted to reach out and hold his hand. Comfort him. They have been there for each other at the worst of times. At each other’s worst.

There were two things they shared with absolute certainty: (1) they’re both stubborn, and (2) they would put up a brave face for the people around them.

Four did, when he discovered Three and Eggdog missing from the cafe. He would put on a determined smile, telling the rest of the Crew that they would rescue Three. But he supposed they could see right through him. That he was crumbling. Three was the one who saved him when he went insane and was possessed by the demonic keyboard. How could he not be frustrated at the fact that he couldn’t do the same?

Biting into his pepperoni slice, Four thought to himself, if only there was a way to take away all the pain Three was feeling right now. If only Three would let go of the front he has and let him show his pain in front of Four. To let Four be his safe space.

There isn’t much he can do, other than to let Three come to him on his own terms. When he is ready.

After finishing up dinner and washing the dishes, they all went to Four’s room. Eggdog and Begg decided to play Jenga, Three sat on the bed scrolling through his phone, and Four went back to editing videos since there was a lot of catching up to do. The record player was playing jazz music, the LP cover was signed “To SMG3”. Three bobbed his head while Four hummed the notes, admittedly it was a great disc that they could both enjoy. After a while, Three reminded Four to take a break from the screen, to which Four immediately complied and sat next to Three.

SMG4: “How’s your legs?”

SMG3: “Tired. But not as bad as last time. Could you pass the pills?”

SMG4, grabbing the bottle and handing it to Three: “Well, you are getting better in today's therapy session. Just wait a bit more.”

When SMG3 grabbed his medication, they briefly touched. It normally wouldn’t mean anything, but there was a tingle. Of curiosity, of warmth. The two lightly blushed, which they quickly brushed it off. They sat in silence as Three swallowed the pills.

SMG3: [*held his jaw by the hand*] “Do you know what I miss the most?” [*looks at Four, who nods as a sign for him to go on*] “Dancing.”

Three didn’t lie, it was one of the things he loved to do. That, and one other reason...

After some thought, Four stood up from the bed. Three didn’t even notice until Four stood before him. Four cleared his throat, a tint of pink on his cheeks, and held out his hand.

SMG4: “Wanna dance?” SMG3: [*puzzled, looking at the hand to Four and back*] “SMG4, I think we should get you some glasses.” SMG4: [*amusingly rolling his eyes*] “’It doesn’t have to be perfect.’ Isn’t that what you always told me?” SMG3: [*starstruck at the remembrance of this memory, lightly chuckled*] “And you dare to use my own words against me.”

Four helped Three up to his feet, his arms being his only support instead of the cane or wheelchair. At first, it was naturally awkward, being that Three is still recovering. Their dancing, if you would even call it that, was more of them shuffling their feet around the floor. They didn’t care.

Fly me to the moon Let me play among the stars

Slowly, they melted in each other’s embrace. Oh, how easily it was to be lost in the other’s eyes, pools of ruby and sapphire. Secretly, they wished they could be like this forever.

Let me see what spring is like On Jupiter and Mars

In the back of Three’s mind, alarm bells were ringing loudly. It isn’t real. He just wants to be friends. Somehow, Three ignored it all the moment Four gave him a smile.

In other words, hold my hand In other words, darling, kiss me

What Three didn’t know, Four was lost in his own mind. The romanticist that he is, he’s freaking out in the inside like a high school girl. It felt like a scene in the romcom movies he watches. But it was real. Three taught him how to give second chances. Perhaps there was a chance now.

Fill my heart with song Let me sing forevermore

Three ran his fingers on Four’s sleeve. It’s real. He’s real.

You are all I long for All I worship and adore

His shooting star, his sweet prince.

In other words, please be true

His hope.

In other words, I love you

As the song ends, the two came to a stop, but they didn’t part. Once again, they were lost in each other’s world.

SMG3: “…We’ve stopped.”

SMG4: “We did? Then, why is a room still spinning?”

Being so close to the other man, the tension was high. Have courage.

Even then, it wasn’t enough. He’s not your Four. Three cleared his throat, looking away before any temptation got hold of him.

SMG3: “I’m… pretty tired, SMG4.” SMG4: “Oh, yeah. Sorry.” [*reaching to hand Three his cane, hiding his disappointment*] SMG3: “Thanks anyway.” [*walks out the door, preparing to go to bed*]

SMG4 stayed where he stood, his heart skipped a beat. It felt like a dream. He danced with his… Well, ‘friend’ was never the right word for him to label Three. Partner? Maybe.

Crush. Yeah… that sounds about right. Ever since Four was saved by Three, he never looked at their relationship the same way. “Just friends” was the stability for the longest time. The “safe” term. And yet, it was selfish to wish for something more. So much so that Four had dreams of a domestic life with Three. Holding hands, to lean to his touch. To…

Four shook his head. Three didn’t seem ready, or even interested. It was just part of his imagination and nothing more.

.・-: ✧ :--: ✧ :-・.

The concrete halls were dark, cold by the touch. All was silent except for the dripping coming from an overhead pipe leak. Light shined through, daring the shadows to confrontation.

They didn’t think they’d be back, but here they were.

Mario, Meggy, and Saiko walked down the abandoned building, remembering their way to a specific room.

Meggy: “We’re getting close, guys. Keep your eyes peeled.” Saiko: “I seriously don’t see the point of us coming back here. Whoever did this is long gone.” Meggy: “Tari was telling me how SMG3 was, and… Look, whoever did this really messed him up. But they must’ve had some big plan for them to involve SMG3 in something. We gotta figure out what it was.” Saiko: “If you think it’s gonna help, fine. Like I said, I’m only here as backup.”

Finding the right door, they entered what was once the simulation room. The group split up and searched for any clues.

Saiko: “Looks like they didn’t come back here.” [*examines the monitor and finds a file of plans in creating the simulation*] Meggy: [*picks up the simulation machinery*] “It’s completely busted. Find anything, Red?” Mario: “No.” [*trips over a hidden box, spilling its contents*] “Ow, my ass.” Meggy: “Are you alright?” Mario: [*rubbing his head*] “Yeah.” [*looks at what he tripped over*] “Hey, I found SMG3’s clothes!” Saiko: “Clothes?”

Indeed, there was a pair of black overalls, a dark blue long-sleeve, and a familiar cap. Meggy picked up the cap, spinning it in her hands. Seeing the “M” emblem, she recognized it immediately. SMG3 wore this getup before the redesigns, and she knew why the “M” was attached.

Meggy: “The Youtube remote. They were trying to make SMG3 into a villain again.”

Mario and Saiko exchanged a glance, seeing the situation at hand. To force Three into a villain again…

Saiko: “You guys get out of here.” Mario and Meggy: “What?” Saiko: “The simulation machinery may be destroyed but it doesn’t mean another one can’t be built.” [*presents the file to them*] “That person’s going to come back and get their things, maybe continue with their plan. They already hurt one of us, it can’t happen again. You guys get out of here, I’ll take care of it.”

Mario and Saiko looked at each other before giving a nod. Saiko was right, the culprit always comes back at the scene of the crime after all. The two left, leaving Saiko alone in the room. She picked up a lighter and lit the file blueprints, watching these plans of cruelty burn to a crisp. She was lucky to buy one of Three’s bombs just for a moment like this. She lit up and ran out, letting the explosive destroy it all. The clothes, the plans. The building itself. Every single bit to a crisp.

No one messes with the Crew. No one.

.・-: ✧ :--: ✧ :-・.

“Three?”

SMG3 opens his eyes, widening as he recognizes his surroundings. The white void.

SMG3: [*heavy breathing*] “No, no, no.”

He turned his heel, ready to run, when he was stunned to see…

SMG3: “…SMG4?” SMG4: “God, you really are pathetic.”

Three is left stunned.

SMG4: “I mean, did you really think I had feelings for you? I’m only taking care of you because I feel bad.” [*walks over to Three*] SMG3: “I thought—” SMG4: “Oh, you thought? Please, get a grip on what’s real here.” [*harshly grabbed onto Three’s arm*] Villains don’t get happy endings.” SMG3: “Four, you’re hurting me. Stop it. Just stop!”

Suddenly, Four went limp, starting to fall over.

SMG3: “Four!” [*catching him*]

Three turns Four over to see his face half of it was pixelated, fading away.

SMG4?: “You… couldn’t keep your promise.” SMG3: “No… I… I’m trying. I really am.” Digital SMG4: “I got a chance to live, to experience love of all things.” [*his voice quickly distorting*] “And you ruined it all.” SMG3: “No, it’s not true. It’s not!” Digital Four: “Why, Three? Why did you have to be so cruel?”

In that moment, Four faded away, its code in the wind.

SMG3: “No, no no!”

.・-: ✧ :--: ✧ :-・.

SMG3: ”NO!”

Three jolted up from the bed. A hand clutching at his shirt, he felt like he couldn’t breathe. Four, who slept right next to his partner, also woke up.

SMG4: “SMG3. Three. It’s okay, that dream isn’t real. It’s not real.” [*his hands gently cradled Three’s face*] “Easy, easy, easy.”

Three finally came to his senses, grounded by Four’s reassurance. His heavy breathing settled until his panic was no more.

SMG4: [*his thumb caresses the other’s cheek*] “See? It’s okay. I’m here. I’m here.”

From the calmness and comfort of his hands, Three leaned into his touch. What he dreamed of, that wasn’t his Four. They stayed like this, the air becoming heavy. Until Three reached to grab Four’s hand from his cheek, but he didn’t shoo the other man away.

SMG4: “Three…” SMG3: “I can’t. Sorry…”

SMG4 sighed, once again unable to reach him. But there still had to be a way to help Three.

SMG4: “Hey, do you think you can sleep again?” SMG3: [*shakes his head*] “No.” SMG4: [*gets up from bed and grabs Three’s shoes*] “C’mon, I wanna show you something.”

.・-: ✧ :--: ✧ :-・.

Three had no idea where Four was taking him, but here they were: walking through the woods still in their pajamas, in hoodies, and shoes. They weren’t in a rush but Four was seemingly eager to show him this mystery. He looked at Four without the other noticing.

Me, the Crew, everything, it's an exact copy of the real thing.

The Four in the digital world was a mere copy. But even a copy could never show him what he was about to see:

Beyond the woods, there was a field of white flowers. Open to the beautiful stars above. The two sat down and looked at the view.

Three looks at him, hanging on to every word.

SMG4: “Whenever I get a nightmare, I always come here. I just happened to stumble upon this place by accident. But it somehow clears my head. Especially after… the ‘perfect’ incident.” [*small chuckle*] “I guess there are some things we can't get over.”

SMG4: “I care a lot about you, SMG3. More than you could ever realize. But it hurts to see when you’re trying to keep it all together. I know that feeling all too well. I can’t force you to tell me what happened in the simulation, but know that whatever happens, I’ll be here for you.”

Their hands got closer together. Their pinkies touched, they noticed but didn’t show.

SMG3: “I don’t know if you should. All the people I care about don’t stay for long. I’m unlikable, SMG4. I’m a villain and always will be.” SMG4: [*shakes head*] “You’ve changed. Besides, I like you. All of you.” [*their pinkies intertwined*] SMG3: “Four…” SMG4: “No, I’m not going to change my mind. I won’t leave you. Whatever you wish me to be, I will be it. A friend, a partner. Someone you can talk to. Anything.”

The air felt heavy once again, and everything became a blur. The silent wind passed through their hair. Have courage.

SMG3: [*gulping*] “…Then, let me ask: are you real?”

A free hand from Four held the other’s face.

SMG4: [*briefly looking at Three’s lips*] “As real as you want me to be.”

Whatever stopped him several times before, Four cut those ties loose. He leaned forward, his eyes slowly closing. He was patient and ready to see if Three would reject him. But Three didn’t and let Four close the gap.

A soft kiss, it was brief. It was tender. It was real.

Three kissed back, letting the other know he reciprocated. They parted for a moment, waiting for the other to make a move.

SMG3: “Then, be true for me.”

They went for a second kiss, this time with passion and longing. This. This cleared every doubt they had before. Their insecurities, whatever held them down. Three wrapped his arms around Four’s neck while other did the same, around Three’s back. If this was a dream, screw it, let them dream. This time, nothing was going to take it away from them.

A single tear rolled down Three's cheek. It's been a while, hasn't it?

SMG3, talking in between kisses: “I love you, Four. I always have.” SMG4, doing the same: “I love you too, Three. I wanted you for so long.” SMG3, parting from kiss: [*laugh*] “Oh? Did you now?” SMG4, turning bright red: “Uh.. c’mon, dude, don’t ruin the moment. It’s not my fault you’re attractive.” SMG3, mischievously leaning to Four: “Really?” SMG4: “Shit.”

Three nuzzled into Four’s neck, kissing all over and leaving Four laughing at how ticklish it was.

SMG4, bursting in laughter: “Three, s-stop!” SMG3, whispered: “Glad to know I wasn’t the only one who thought the same.”

Oh, how wonderful was it to listen to the sounds Four makes.

His shooting star, his sweet prince.

His Four.

After a while, the two catch their breath. They leaned onto each other, held hands, and looked back at the stars.

SMG4: “I promise I’ll be true for you.” [*gave Three's hand a squeeze*] SMG3: [*hums, returning the gesture*] “Well then, I’ll do the same for you.”

Three held many promises, one was to never let Four cry. Now, there was another: to be his truest self.

[the-architect-of-ferrari]

hey guys! I was formerly fellow-meme-lover but I have retired that name after like 7 years. I am now @the-architect-of-ferrari in honor of that one article about Carlos (pictured). I’m a little surprised no one had taken that username yet but I’ll gladly have it.

I decided to change my name because I want it to reflect the main focus of my blog moving forward: Carlos Sainz. This is also going to be a bit of a goodbye to Ferrari post and clarifying what my blog will look like after AD24. So continue reading after the cut if you’re interested.

I am a fairly recent f1 fan, I only started casually watching late into the 2023 season, and it wasn’t until the winter break that I started getting serious about f1 and more involved.

It was during this time that I discovered Charlos, and they were my absolute favorite duo on the entire grid. I remember thinking the entire Ferrari team was a giant mess, and that the only thing they had going for them was their driver pairing. I spent the off-season watching old interviews with them, seeing posts about them on tumblr and twitter, and learning everything about them that I could. I initially liked Charles more, as he was the first driver I really learned about, and I will always be fond of him for gifting me this sport and fandom that means so much to me.

Over time though, I naturally gravitated more towards Carlos. I couldn’t explain it but there was something about him that connected me to him, and soon his happiness was my happiness and his sadness was my sadness. When the news of Lewis’s move to Ferrari dropped on February 1st, I was devastated. I could only think of how Ferrari was Carlos’s dream and it was now coming to an end. All season I’ve been dreading having to make this post, having to say goodbye, but I can’t put it off forever. I truly believe that the team hasn’t done right by Carlos in a lot of ways, but it was his dream, and I want him to be happy more than anything else, and for his sake I sincerely hope that a return to Ferrari is possible one day. I think he will be happy to know that regardless of what the future holds, he will always be a part of the team’s history, and everything he gave to them will not be forgotten.

As for Charlos as a duo, they were always the duo I loved the most of the entire grid. It wasn’t always easy at times, with their occasional fights, with the frequent fan wars, and the accusations of it being a PR friendship. But I think if you went back and watched old videos of them together, you can see the fondness in their eyes clear as day, and it lingers in their familiarity with each other to this day. Four years as teammates isn’t nothing. I don’t know that anyone will be able to make me laugh as hard as they did, or cheer me up on a bad day the way they did. In the future, even if they’re not teammates I will still try to post about them as much as possible, even if it’s a 3 second clip of them chatting at a driver’s parade or something idc.

But with that said, my no.1 driver from now on will always be Carlos, and so what I post will reflect that. As a Charlos fan, I was reluctantly a Ferrari fan because that is the team they drove for, but now I will be with Carlos 100%. I will no longer be solely posting about charles and carlos, and instead will post things more like what i have been posting lately, which will include other driver pairings like versainz. I’ll also just post general f1 stuff sometimes if i think i have something important to say. But mostly i will be talking about Carlos.

For now though, let’s make the rest of this season count. I’ll be with you always, Carlos.

¡Vamos, toro!

[forge7menot]

In The Air (Tonight)

Pairings: Patrick x Reader, Tashi x Reader, Tashi x Art

Word count: 2.7k

Content warnings: alcohol use, suggestive content

Notes: Hi everyone! This is my first time writing a ff but I love Challengers with all my heart so I thought I'd give it a try. English is not my first language so if there are any mistakes don't pay too much attention to them!! Also, I despise the use of “Y/N”, that's why I tried to make it as neutral as I could.

Summer 2006, New York: 10:45 PM

Your room was a mess. Not only were there piles of dresses, colorful crop tops and jeans scattered across the floor like confetti, but you still couldn’t decide what to wear. And it was getting pretty late —at least, too late for your liking一 as the faint sound of “SOS” by Rihanna drifting from nearby bars hinted at the start of another sleepless Saturday night.

“Where’s the mascara?”

“Right in there,” you said, pointing at your makeup bag while your head was still buried deep in your closet. This bra isn't even mine, you thought, picking it up before tossing it on the ground. Tashi was too busy curling her eyelashes to hear the cellphone that had been buzzing for the past five minutes.

"Tash, could you please get it?" you grabbed a pair of low-rise, medium-wash bootcut jeans and looked at them with a satisfied grin before sneaking your legs in them as Tashi’s manicured nail pressed the green button to accept the call.

"We're still not ready," you heard her say and Art groaned on the other end.

"Are you serious? You said that an hour ago!"

"I am, unfortunately. I'll text you when we're finished.” Tashi ended the call before he could say a word.

She's been your closest friend since middle school. It was around that time that she started to invite you to watch her tennis matches on Sunday afternoons, just to hang out later. You've been incredibly supportive of her love for tennis ever since.

She even tried to teach you how to play, which led to you spraining your ankle once—after that, she didn't push you to try again.

However, you were always there at her matches: front rows, holding a big sign with her name on it, rooting for her.

That's also how you met Patrick and Art, Fire and Ice: the two of them were also tennis players, which is why they already knew Tashi very well. The four of you quickly became close after your first encounter at a party, which ended with smoking cigarettes by the beach and engaging in random conversations.

It was quite obvious that Art, the blond one, had a thing for her from the first night you all spent together. You still remember how he was staring at her in awe as she explained to Patrick, the brunet one, how “you can actually build something out of ice while fire just tends to burn shit down”—it was obviously an innuendo to his technique. Art could hardly hide his grin as she tore into it, watching her like he’d just discovered something rare. You wondered if she noticed—or if she was just used to his attention by now.

As for you, you weren’t really looking for a relationship and you’d come to peace with the fact that being single was probably the chillest you’d ever been. At the same time, you couldn’t deny that Patrick was a really cool guy—not just for his confidence and personality, but because he was fucking hot. Sure, he was flirtier with you than with most people and maybe that got under your skin a little. But you often asked yourself if it was real interest or just his way of being; you hadn’t quite decided yet.

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷

The clock on the dresser blinked 11:10 PM, the glowing digits reminding you both that Art and Patrick were probably rolling their eyes somewhere across town. They’d waited this long, but you knew they’d wait a little longer.

Tashi was finally dressed, wearing a dark blue one-shoulder mini dress and a wide black belt with a large buckle that you’d gladly lent her. She was already pretty tall, but that didn’t stop her from slipping on the black peep-toe heels you two had bought together just a few hours ago. “One thing I like about my height is that ugly short boys can’t even try with me. I can’t hear them at all!” she’d joked in the shoe aisle.

As she carefully helped you curl your hair, you slipped on a white vest-style top with a V-neck. “Do you think I should add a necklace or something?” you asked, gesturing to the empty space just above your collarbones.

“How about that black beaded necklace with the heart pendant your grandma got you for your birthday?” she suggested, turning off the curling iron. “It contrasts perfectly with white.”

“You’re a genius!”

You fastened the necklace, running a finger over the heart pendant, feeling a hint of comfort.

There was just one last thing left to do before leaving the house: post a photo of Tashi and you on MySpace - where, of course, she was placed first in your TOP 8 and you were placed first in hers.

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷

The two boys had been leaning against the stone ledge outside the club for a solid twenty minutes, watching people trickle in. Art had insisted on getting there early—“in case there’s a line.”

Patrick had rolled his eyes at the time, knowing you and Tashi weren’t even close to ready yet. They’d both checked their phones multiple times, refreshing messages and waiting for a sign. Then, Patrick’s phone buzzed.

He glanced down and let out a low laugh, nudging Art with his elbow. “Look at this,” he said, tilting the screen toward him: a freshly uploaded photo on Tashi’s MySpace page, clearly taken in your room. The two of you were posing in front of a mirror flashing playful peace signs with the caption “NYC nightlife, here we come!”

Art squinted at the screen, his smile widening. “Well, at least we know they’re coming,” he said with a chuckle. “Though judging by that post, they’re not exactly in a rush.”

Patrick shook his head, amused. He put his phone back in his pocket, feigning indifference but sneaking glances at the entrance.

Another ten minutes passed, during which Art fiddled with his phone, checking Tashi’s page and refreshing it as if a new post might appear any second.

Patrick caught him doing it and snickered. “Dude, you’re practically stalking her page. Can you look any more desperate?”

Art shrugged, unfazed. “It’s called keeping informed, man.”

Just then, his phone buzzed again—a new notification. But this time, it was a message from Tashi: “Almost there. Keep your shirts on, boys. ;-)”

Finally, Art spotted you and Tashi across the street, walking toward the club entrance, laughing and leaning on each other as you navigated the crowded sidewalk.

He elbowed Patrick, who looked up just in time to see you both smiling, looking effortlessly glamorous under the city lights.

“There they are,” Art said, relief mixed with excitement in his voice.

Patrick’s exasperation faded, replaced by a grin. “About time,” he muttered, though there was no real annoyance in his tone.

As the both of you got closer to them Tashi smirked, flipping her long brown hair over one shoulder with a dramatic flair.

“Sorry to keep you waiting, boys,” she said with mock sincerity. “Had to make sure the MySpace crowd knew we were out tonight.”

Patrick raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms. “Oh, trust me, we saw. Next time, maybe just send us a smoke signal instead.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” you shot back with a mischievous grin, clearly enjoying the whole situation.

Tashi turned to Art, who was still smiling as he took her in. “You think we look worth the wait?”

Art nodded, a bit too enthusiastically. “Absolutely. I mean, you posted a teaser and everything—how could we not stick around?”

As the two of them were already flirting, you turned your face towards Patrick.

“Hello, sweetness,” he greeted, slipping an arm around your shoulders with a familiarity that felt both bold and strangely comforting. He always called you that—sweetness—ever since you’d mentioned your obsession with the song “Bigmouth Strikes Again” by The Smiths. You weren’t sure if he was teasing you or if he actually liked the nickname, but you didn’t mind it, even if you’d never admit that out loud.

“I hope you still would not like to smash every tooth in my head,” he continued, his grin widening as he quoted the song. His gaze lingered on you, mischievous and a little too pleased with himself.

You rolled your eyes, but the smile tugging at your lips betrayed you. “I’m not that violent, you know. I’m more of a pacifist.”

Patrick chuckled, giving your shoulder a little squeeze as he leaned closer, his voice dropping to a playful murmur. “Oh yeah? I don’t know. I think you’ve got a bit of a fire in you. A little spark.”

You raised an eyebrow, playing along. “A spark, huh? Guess I’m playing for your team then,” you hinted at the nickname people would always give to him on the tennis court.

“That’s the best decision you could ever make,” he shot back, flashing you a grin that was just this side of cocky. His hand lingered on your shoulder for a moment longer before he finally let it drop, but not before brushing his fingers lightly down your arm. It was a subtle touch, but enough to send a small, pleasant shiver down your spine.

As the four of you finally stepped into the club, you were hit by a wall of sound, the bass vibrating through the floor and up into your bones. The music was loud—really loud—the kind of beat that left no room for conversation, only dancing and shouted exchanges.

Strobe lights and neon beams cut through the darkness, casting fleeting shades of blue, purple and red across the crowd, turning everyone into silhouettes and glimmers. The air was thick with the scent of spilled cocktails (that’s what almost made you gag), mingling with a faint haze of cigarette smoke and the sharp tang of cologne and perfume. People were laughing, shouting, swaying in sync, some raising their arms in time with the music.

On one side there was a raised platform where a few braver dancers were showing off their moves, illuminated by a set of blinding white lights that flickered on and off. On the opposite end, a long bar stretched out under soft, glowing light, bartenders moving swiftly as they mixed colorful cocktails, sliding them to customers.

You felt Patrick’s hand on your back, guiding you gently through the crowd as Tashi and Art led the way, squeezing past groups of people until you found a good spot by the bar.

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷

You didn’t even know what time it was as you sipped on your Cosmopolitan, comfortably nestled into the soft cushions of the booth, when suddenly you felt Tashi’s hand on your shoulder.

“Everything alright?” she asked, sliding in next to you, nearly out of breath as she tried to recover from the last half hour of nonstop dancing: her cheeks were flushed and you could tell she was enjoying the break just as much as you were.

“Yeah, absolutely. This drink is bomb,” you said, pointing at your glass before downing the last sip. “So, what did I miss while I was out here living my best life?” you asked, giving her a playful look.

“Patrick and Art are still out there trying to one-up each other’s dance moves. It’s… something else. You’re missing quite the show.”

As the two of you were talking, a girl dressed in a bold, sparkly top and a low ponytail approached your booth, her arms loaded with a tangle of neon bracelets. She flashed a wide grin as she held them out.

"Hey, ladies! Care for a little light?" she offered, her voice barely cutting through the music.

Tashi’s face lit up as she leaned forward, picking out a few.

“Oh, these are perfect! Thank you!” She slipped a neon pink one onto her wrist, watching it glow under the lights. You took a couple yourself—a bright blue and green.

“Y’all look amazing, by the way!” the girl shouted with a wink before slipping back into the crowd, leaving you both with your new accessories.

Tashi tilted her wrist, admiring the soft glow. “Okay, this is exactly what I needed to get back out there.” She shot you a playful look, her neon-pink bracelet gleaming as she offered you a hand. “Coming with me?”

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷

The thump of the bass vibrated through the soles of your heels as you and Tashi weaved your way through the crowd.

You found the two boys near the center of the floor, bouncing with the beat of the music.

The brunet spotted you and Tashi first, his eyes lighting up when he saw the bracelets glowing on your wrists. He flashed you a knowing grin and moved fluidly through the crowd towards you. Art followed his lead and came over too.

“Didn’t think you’d make it out here,” Patrick said with a sly grin, his voice cutting through the bass of the song.

Tashi turned to Art and gave him a wink.

“We couldn’t resist, could we?” she laughed as Art pulled her into the rhythm of the music, his hands gently guiding her into the groove.

You stood next to Patrick, feeling his energy just as strongly as he could feel yours and for a moment the connection was undeniable. The way his body moved with the music was drawing you in: he extended a hand towards you, his fingers brushing against your wrist as he gestured for you to join him.

“Don’t be shy,” he said, a teasing smile curling at the corners of his mouth. Without hesitation you placed your hand in his, allowing him to pull you deeper into the rhythm of the dance.

Patrick was a master of subtlety—his touch, his movements, everything about him felt so deliberate. The music wrapped around you and, for a moment, there was no one else in the room but the two of you.

As you spun into the next move, Patrick’s hand landed on your lower back, the contact warm and possessive as he gently guided you.

In response, you placed your palms on his clothed shoulders. The alcohol in your system gradually made you bolder than usual.

The proximity was intoxicating.

His gaze never wavered from you, his lips curving into that playful, knowing smile. When he leaned in closer the tension was thick and almost overwhelming.

“You’re a natural,” he whispered, his hand now resting at your side, fingertips grazing the skin of your hip. You couldn’t help but shiver at the contact.

“Probably because I’ve got such a good teacher,” you teased him.

Whatever was happening felt more than just a casual connection: the closeness, the unspoken tension, the way you moved together—it all felt too real to ignore.

The air between you felt charged, each beat of the music syncing your heartbeats closer together.

As the song transitioned into something slower, the change in tempo didn’t break the tension—it only amplified it. His breath was warm against your cheek and his lips hovered just near your ear. Your heartbeat was so loud, you thought it might drown out his voice.

“You feel that?” Patrick’s breath was warm against your ear, the words almost like a challenge. You swallowed hard. The music still pounded, but it felt like it was coming from miles away.

“Feel what?” you asked, trying to hold onto control but knowing you were losing it.

For a moment, neither of you moved, your gazes locked. You wanted to say something, anything to break the tension, but the words caught in your throat.

Patrick’s lips were so close to yours at that moment.

Your breath hitched as both his hands found the softness and warmth of your cheeks, holding the flesh.

You tilted your head, just enough to close the gap and in a move that felt almost inevitable. His lips brushed yours—soft at first, like a question. You feel that?

When you didn’t pull away, he deepened the kiss, one of his hands moving to your neck.

In that moment, everything else ceased to exist: the world outside of the dancefloor—the crowd, the flashing lights, the music—faded away.

The kiss was heady, slow, a direct answer to the question that had been hanging in the air between you two.

When you finally broke away, breathless, your forehead rested against his, both of you struggling to regain some semblance of control.

Needless to say, that night you didn’t fall asleep alone. And you certainly didn’t fall asleep in your bed.

[an0ma1y-th3d0ma1y]

Hey, if you’re not too busy… is it possible to ask for a lee! B-127 and a ler! D-16 and Orion?

Maybe the two introduced tickling to bee since he’s been down in sub-level 50 for a looong while and is a VERY touch starved bot.. If that’s ok..?

I-i’m just gonna *points to the exit* bye!

Surface Findings

(A/N: IM SO SORRY I HAVENT BEEN POSTING its hard to find motivation these days 😞😞 im really hoping I can answer more asks and do more stuff.. I PROMISE ILL MAKE IT UP TO YALL (hopefully))

‼️TFONE SPOILERS AHEAD‼️

D-16 really loved his best friend, he really did. But when the bot got them into situations such as going to the surface to try and find the Matrix of Leadership for Sentinel Prime.. His face looked *pretty* punchable.

The four miner bots hiked across the surface ground, the gentle breeze of the wind and glare of the sun a strange new feeling for them all. Elita-1 carefully navigating the pinpoint on the map from Alpha Trion, the punch in the face she delivered to Orion earlier really seeming worth it at the moment..

“It’s like a weird, nature thing.. It’s weird.” Orion conversed to D, whom followed close to his best friend. B-127, the miner bot who assisted them out of sub level 50 following close behind, happy as can be. Elita coming to a stop, her servo signaling for the others to mimic.

“..Seems like a pretty good place to settle down until we can get there safely.” Orion suggested, Elita humming in agreement. “Alright, but if there’s some sort of monster out there you’re bait.” D chimed in begrudgingly, Orion chuckling. The four bots carefully sliding down the hill, Bee falling in the process. Chirping a small ‘I’m alright!’ Before quickly following behind.

The miners found themselves settled at their little hangout spot underneath a.. Tree? Huh, weird name for it. Bee hanging upside down from a branch with a grin on his face, the others talking.

“It would probably be a good idea for someone to scout the area, we don’t know what’s out here.” D suggested, Orion nodding. “..Rock paper scissors?”

“Oh for primus sake.”

Elita snapped a branch off of the tree, walking out to go and scout. Leaving the three alone. “Sooo, what do you guys wanna do??” Bee asked, letting out a squawk when the branch he hung on snapped, falling into D’s lap with a guilty grin. D rolling his eyes, giving the shorter miner a slight playful poke to his side plate, a short yelp emerging from him.

“..What was that, Bee?”

“I-I don’t know!”

Bee exclaimed, seeming slightly alarmed by the small discovery. “When you like- did that it..”

“Tickled?”

“..What’s that?” Bee squinted a bit, D and Orion’s optics widening. He didn’t know what tickling was!?

“..Well, it’s basically when someone.. *touches* you in a specific way that.. makes you flinch or laugh.” D explained the best he could, Orion nodding. “Huh.. Ti-ckle.. That’s a funny word! Tickle tickle tickle-“

“We know, we know..” D quickly cut him off, his faceplate heating up slightly. Glaring at Orion when he gave him a smirk. “It's really not a bad thing, though. It’s a good way to bond and create connections.” Orion smiled, putting a hand on Bee’s shoulder.

“..Can you do it again??”

“Pardon?”

“Can you tickle me again?” Bee asked with hopeful eyes, Orion and D sharing a look before smiling down at the smaller miner. D grabbing him under his arms, hoisting him up in his lap. Orion scooting closer on his knees, wiggling his fingers over Bee’s torso, making the miner giggle slightly in anticipation.

“You ready, Bee?”

“Y-Yeheah!-“

His fingers darted down to Bee’s stomach cavity, gently wiggling around. The smaller bot immediately bursting out into giggles, slightly squirming and kicking his legs. Orion chuckling softly seeing his friend so giddy and smiley, buzzing his digits into his ribs. Earning a pretty loud squeal from the bot, D wincing a little hearing it right up close to his audio sensors.

“You enjoying yourself, buddy?” Orion asked teasingly, raking his digits up and down his sides and ribs. “IhIHIT reHEhealLY- *hic* tiHIhiCKLeHEHEEES!!” Bee hiccuped, Orion cooing a small “N’aww..” Dragging his digits back down to his stomach, gently tracing and poking around the area. A small smirk crawling up his lips seeing D gently blowing on Bee’s exposed neck wires, making him squeak nonstop.

The two eventually spared the small bot, not wanting him to pop a cog. Watching as he melted into D’s lap, the silver bot smiling and gently patting him on the helm. “Thahat.. *pant* that was reheally fuhun… Can we do it again??” Bee chirped, a glimmer in his optics. “Sorry, buddy. We can’t have you breaking your voice box.” (subtle foreshadowing)

Just in that moment, Elita returned with some mud and scratches on her paint, but overall in one piece.

“The only thing we’ve got to worry about are those brown slime puddles, and-“ She paused upon seeing the state Bee was in. “..What happened to him?”

“Hey Elita! Orion and D were just ti-“

“He was just running! Got a little too excited about being out here with us..” D quickly chimed in with a chuckle, Elita raising an optical ridge slightly, however humming and shrugging her shoulders afterwards.

“Nice save.” Orion whispered to D while Elita sat down, D nodding. “Why are we keeping it a secret from her??” Bee whispered.

“..It’ll make sense when you’re more familiar with it.”

“With tickl-“

“SHH- Yes, yes that..”

Orion chuckled. He loved his friends, nothing could ever go wrong between them. Right?

[barnabusbarnabus]

Meanwhile my Light Fingers guy goes like "I'm pretty sure that's some kind of horrifying monster, as per usual, but I have bills to pay (I somehow own three houses) so get it on the dissection table." He is simply Not Paid Enough To Care. Egg Apathy gone wild.

He came down here as a low-level safecracker from Cornwall with revolutionary tendencies and no formal education, just the clothes on his back and a false identity as an impoverished academic called Barnabus Moss. And yet somehow less than a year and a half later (I made my account and did the early game in 2021 but dropped it and only really started playing again last christmas so my playtime is about that) he's got five doctorates, four main identities, three houses, knows two alien languages and has a boat.

Most people believe him to be in a polycule composed of three of his primary identities - Barnabus Moss, the Voluble Empiricist, scientist and sailor; Albert Haversham, the Dramatical Administrator, poet and railway baron; and Miss Emilia Stone, the Threadbare Outrider, parabolan self and evidence of him being very, very trans (though he's very much of the "i'm probably trans but i have a job so idrc about that rn" type). His other identity doesn't really have a name, he has long chosen to discard the name of his birth, but they're the head of a criminal network which conceals a spy network aligned with the revolutionaries. Under this identity, he's platonically married to another major underworld figure, Vita Melrose, the Eminence Grise, the only other person in-universe who a) knows all of this for certain and b) is willing to put up with his bullshit.

(The reason I'm explaining all of this is because I think that Moss would absolutely fucking hate Lark - if there is one thing you cannot accuse Moss of in any identity [and he can be correctly accused of a lot], it's incuriosity - but if he met him in any identity except as Moss or the spy [who never meets anybody in person] he'd have to pretend that he didn't because Haversham is polite and Emilia is the sort of person who doesn't dislike anybody. It would drive him fucking crazy. Let's have them talk.)

i think when presented with the choice of which side he would join on the chessboard, lark would choose white. but not because he actually aligns with the law and the stars or anything of the sort. he's extremely red at heart. he just picks white because he sees the eternal war between light and dark and assumes light is the good side and nobody corrects him for ages