#i feel vindicated. i Knew they were good.

[mleemwyvern]

ORANGE 4TH AND BLUE 6TH OVERALL!! TAKE THAT, REDDIT!

[alexlwrites]

𝑭𝒐𝒓𝒈𝒆𝒕 𝒎𝒆 𝒏𝒐𝒕

✿𝑷𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈: Jungkook x Reader

✿ 𝑺𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚:  The one where everytime you get dumped you pretend that you never met the guy before to mess with their heads. To the point that if you run into them somewhere you reintroduce yourself and act like you’ve never seen each other before.

Enters fuckboy Jungkook who disappears after your night together, not knowing how much he was about to regret that choice.

✿ 𝑻𝒂𝒈𝒔:  Romance, Humor, Fluff, Angst, College AU

✿ 𝑨/𝑵: I’m truly sorry for this sad excuse of an update.

(Fanfic masterlist)

(support me on my ko-fi)

°•. ✿ .•°

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐰𝐨 - 𝐎𝐛𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐲, 𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧���𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝐩𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬

(<<< part one)

“I can’t believe you’re doing this again” Jane’s voice rang through the phone as you walked down the streets towards your desired coffee spot.

You also couldn’t believe you were doing that again. You tried your best to live your life with no regrets, but men made it very hard.

“Have you seen him since he fled the crime scene?”

“Stop calling it a crime scene” you snapped.

“Well, have you?”

Your silence was enough of an answer. No, you had not seen or heard from Jungkook since he ran away from your bedroom in the dead of night, leaving behind only the smell of cologne and, funnily enough, a single sock. When you woke up that day to an empty bed, sheets crumbled and a mattress indented on the side where he had slept, all you could muster was a tired sigh of disappointment. 

And to be completely honest, you were disappointed with yourself, not Jungkook. You expected nothing less than a quick escape of him. But you should’ve known better than to hope for anything. Despite everything, you were still an idealist at heart and you thought that maybe just this once…

You shook your head obstinately. You had learned early on that no good would come from moping around for men who would never once feel any regret for their thoughtless actions and if your pain were to be always one sided, then it was better not to feel any at all. Not to dwell on it, move on, learn from it and be better. Or be worse, sometimes, as self-improvement was not always your goal.

Sometimes, you chose to listen to the tiny revengeful angel on your shoulder - who kind of sounded like Taylor Swift - that screamed for violence and vindication.

As your failed relationships started to pile up, you did reach a point where you had to wonder if you were the problem, as it was the canonical event of all 20 something women. But observation, therapy, critical thinking and hereditary pettiness brought you to the decision that it was not, in fact, your fault. At least not all of it. 

With that in mind, you left only the smallest of time slots in your booked and busy schedule to ponder and grieve over the fickle nature of boys’ interests. You had better, more important things to do, such as mindlessly scroll through Minecraft/AITA videos and save pilates routines that you were never gonna do. 

Still, in an experience intrinsically feminine, you allowed yourself a little treat to cope with the slight burn of despondency in the back of your mind. 

And so you directed yourself to the bougie coffee house near campus, hoping to drown your sorrows with an aggressively sweet and overly caffeinated drink. 

“You should slash his tires”

“Jane, please, we have talked about this.”

“You should totally slash his fucking tires!"

"Saying it louder is not gonna make me agree with you! Jane…"

Suddenly your eyes found Jungkook's across the room filled to the brim with depressed, financially irresponsible students, making you pause and hold back the urge to curl your lips in distaste. It bothered you that even with scared eyes as big as saucers and hunched shoulders to appear smaller, Jungkook still managed to look good. 

But you knew better than to let him know how much his presence and pretty face annoyed you. Boys like Jungkook only cared about having an impact on people’s life, very rarely caring if it was good or bad. He wanted a reaction out of you and you learned better than to give those away so carelessly.

So you frowned and looked away, the words practiced on your lips as you said “Some guy is staring at me.”

Jane laughed loudly on the phone “You’re a psycho, you know that?”

“I don’t know who it is, Jane, some dude” you stole a quick glance at him, finding vengeful glee at his shocked expression.

“Send me a pic of his reaction, I’m posting it on TikTok.”

You continued playing your part, ignoring your sister’s interruptions as you usually did “Of course I’m carrying a taser, Jane, I’m not an animal…”

“I’ll give you 5 bucks to tase him.”

“You know what, this coffee is not even worth the visual harassment, God I hate men…”

You walked out of the coffee house, hand empty but with a fulfilled sick sense of accomplishment as you stepped out into the street with a shit-eating grin.

“I hope you know what you’re doing” Jane said and you could hear the smile in her voice. Out of your two sisters, Jane was never the one to tell you to not do something, preferring to let you make your own mistakes.

And boy, did you. 

You left your big, beautiful, tattooed mistake behind you, ready to move on to something less prone to disappointment, such as fictional men and your Stardew Valley husband “Dont worry” you told your sister “I don’t.”.

—

“What are you doing?” Jungkook asked, left eye twitching slightly at your unbothered expression.

After your confusing exit from the coffee shop and a good amount of jabs from his friends, Jungkook had to hunt you down across campus, finding you sitting under a tree with a book in your hands, looking way too peaceful for someone who just had humiliated him.

You looked down at your book with an arched eyebrow “Kegels, clearly. Why?”

“No, I mean…” Jungkook’s frustration was rising by the second, the vein on his neck jumping out “Why are you acting like you don’t know me?”

You frowned.

 “Do I know you?” you asked, face doubtful.

“We have classes together?”

You blinked, impassive.

“We went on a date?”

A head shake.

“We slept together!”

“Nope, can’t say it rings any bells.”

That’s it. Jungkook was actually convinced you were clinically insane. 

“How can you not remember?”

“How can I remember something that never happened?”

“But it did! You’re crazy! I chased you for weeks!”

You smiled, a trap.

“So, you're, like, in love with me?” you ask, tone condescending. 

Jungkook scoffed and you weren’t sure if it was at the idea of love or loving you. “No, of course not.”

“So in this dream scenario of yours, we had sex but we weren’t together?”

“Trust me, this” he gestured between the two of you “is no dream scenario.”

“Well, aren’t you a charmer” you crossed your arms in front you, defensive “Let me get this straight. You, allegedly, chased me for weeks, but don’t really like me. Then, we had casual, out-of-relationship sex and then what? You banged my head against the headboard so hard I completely forgot about it? Your story is full of holes, my dude.”

You had to fight back the urge to smirk, energy spiking from feeding off of Jungkook’s stupefied confusion.

Nail in the coffin, you shrugged, turning your eyes back to your book “Maybe you weren’t that memorable and my mind deleted you like a childhood trauma.”

A slight left eye spasm was all the reaction you got at first, evolving to the pursing of pouty lips and the clenching of fists.

“You are insane” he said at last after seconds of turning clogs in his barely filled mind.

“Finally you said something true.”

Jungkook was equally bewildered and furious. He didn’t know what your deal was or what you were getting out of this, but your refusal to admit you had sex pissed him off deeply considering how much time and effort he put into getting you together.

“Also, I have to ask” you continued, clearly not done with your pursuit of driving him up the wall “what was your goal with this conversation? Chasing me for weeks to then sleep with me and then come here and tell me you’re not actually interested in me, but being upset when I don’t remember something that didn’t happen… What’s the point?”

Jungkook paused. Truly, he didn’t have much of an end goal in mind, actions fueled only by a bruised ego and a childish, borderline pathological need to prove himself.

When he didn’t answer, you stood up and gathered your things, keeping your head down to hide your poorly concealed satisfaction “I’ll let you ponder on that” you said “Don’t worry about reaching out with an answer, though.”

Finally, you looked up at him, face masked with faux awkwardness. “Anyway. Nice to meet you, I guess? No, actually, not really, this was weird as shit. You seem to have some things to figure out. Get help and take care, my dude.”

And so you left, leaving behind only a cloud of your bergamot perfume and a perplexed Jungkook blinking owlishly. 

There was a sudden influx of thoughts rushing through his usually much less busy mind, the general tone of confusion ringing amongst humiliation and frustration.

When Jungkook first set his greedy eyes on you, he had an inkling that you’d be a handful and in the beginning, you truly were. You took pleasure in making everything much more difficult for him, running from his presence like the plague and approaching the whole subject of him like one would the subject of warts - reluctantly and with caution.

And if he were honest, he wasn’t too sure on why he insisted, but one would be surprised at how far Jungkook would escalate things out of spite and resentment.

It was that same sick combination of flavors that drove him insane for weeks, moving him to pester you until you gave him a chance. And he took it, lord, did he take it.

That night, he made every possible effort to please you, cloaked in his best, non-ranch stained clothes and best non-arrogant behavior.

And when morning came and he opened up his eyes before you did, tired out from the epitome of his bestest behavior, there was a moment of quiet as he watched you eyelids flutter delicately, soft arm draped lightly over his waist.

The night before had been… Fun, he thought, even before you had reached your bedroom. You were weird and used a bunch of words he didn’t know, but you also made him laugh and listened to him babbling about his interest without once looking bored, even going as far as asking questions about his farfetched MCU theories.

And despite your many (too many to count, insurmountable really) differences, you had… Chemistry, one could call it. Thick chemistry, palpable tension, pushing you towards each other despite your previous attempts to go the other way.

But no amount of chemistry could break Jungkook’s routine as inertia pushed him out of your bed, practiced steps light as feathers as he escaped your apartment with one last look to your sleeping form and somehow one less sock on his feet.

And as he left, there was an undiagnosed pounding in his heart he tried to chalk off as the result of his Dorito and monster drink based diet, but his eyes kept flashing back to where you rested even when he was miles away.

He tried to make sense of your persistent presence in the back of his mind. You were cool, he’d give you that. Hot too. But it didn’t matter how your body fit his like they were manufactured together or how your passive aggressive way of flirting (or insulting, he had a hard time telling them apart with you) never failed to steal a snort from his lips. And yeah, it was kind of nice when you called him cute everytime he didn’t understand something you said. It brought a blush to his cheeks and wild butterflies to his stomach, because… Well, no one had ever called him cute after middle school. Hot? Yes. Sexy? Once a week. Biggest dick ever? Yes, both meanings.

But not cute. And deep down, under layers of aggressively oversized shirts and muscles… Jungkook kind of liked being cute.

Jungkook shook that thought away. Despite all that, you were a point he had to make.

And he did! Point proven and undisputed, up until you looked at him like he was a silly little kid throwing a tantrum (which he kind of was) and questioned him and his sanity,

But Jungkook was obstinate and, even more, the sorest of losers. He had proven himself once and would again! He was a man on a mission, he decided, watching you walk away from him while mouthing the words “I’ll pray for you!”. And the mission was to either send you into a psychiatric hospital or get you back into his bed.

And if the butterflies in his stomach fluttered excitedly at that second prospect, he didn’t allow himself to ponder on it for a single second.

°•. ✿ .•°

[Taglist: @artsxpe ; @010op10 ; @ladysandy ; @707sblog ; @notvantaes ; @borahaeb1ch ; @akshstudios ; @beautyiisterror ; @lovelycammy ; @mushysunrise-deactivated2022030 ; @hani0407]

My taglists are open! Click here to be added <3

[Permanent taglist: @imknewattis ; @dreamamubarak ; @onlythebest-106 ;@betysotelo18 ; @havetaeminforbreakfast ; @uno7 ; @chimchimmarie ; @anaya123world ; @junecat18 ]

[pentechnics]

Can't Get Enough

pairing: Din Djarin x f!reader rating: E | explicit | 18+ only word count: ~1,200 tags: nsfw, hate sex, angry sex, penetrative sex, throat/breath play, rough sex, multiple orgasms, angst, reader and din hate each other yet can't get enough, din makes you sad, no physical descriptions of reader, no y/n

notes: This isn't my usual style, but I just kinda had to get some stuff out. Not really edited or fully flushed out, for that matter. But hopefully posting something new will help me get further in my other work! I have something due for the d20 writing challenge and I am so sorry that one hasn't happened dfghjsfkl

taglist under the cut❤️

He slammed you against the wall with a loud thunk.

Your throat was sore from exertion, your pulse quickening with each groan he released.

His hand found your neck again and held tight, forcing you to look into that visor and see your own lust-blown gaze reflected back at you.

Fuck, he pissed you off. He got to see you like this, but you didn’t. Every time you two wound up like this, it felt like another charge added to an invisible tab. Like he owed you something, because you always gave him everything.

The thought was brief, soon vanquished by another angry thrust, pain and pleasure melding together and turning your brain to mush.

You peered in deeper, willing his eyes to show themselves. You channeled every ounce of mental energy you had left into him – how much he hurt you, how angry he made you. How angry you were at yourself to have given into this again.

And why? Nothing ever changed. He’d come over, both of you would be pissed as all hell, take it out on each other, and then he’d leave. Neither of you walked away feeling any better.

… You never stopped to wonder why he kept coming back. It took two to keep this up, after all. You sucked on his thumb when he stuck it in your mouth, wrapping your legs around him to bring him deeper into you.

You hated this. You hated that it always came down to this for you to feel something. Ever since the two of you broke up you’ve been searching for something, but hell if you knew what it was.

You hated that he was still your answer. You surely didn’t love him anymore, but you hated that you still needed him.

Especially because he doesn’t need you.

He rammed into you, deeper and deeper, sending you into convulsions. You screamed into the humid air, grasping at his shoulders for dear life.

His own cries followed, a loud ‘fuck’ echoing into the darkness. He pried you off the wall and threw you down on the bed, putting the full force of his weight into each delicious stroke.

You couldn’t help the whines that spilled out of you. He had a way of dragging out every single sensation until you were drowning in it all. Drowning in him.

It was infuriating.

You pulled yourself up to his shoulder, kissing and biting at his salty skin. A gorgeous, vindicating sense of pride soared through you when he let out a whimper. 

You liked to think you were the only one who could make him do that.

It made him pound harder into you. Your bite matched, his skin muffling your screams.

“Fuck, I’m gonna come,” you panted.

“Yeah?”

You nodded.

“Good.”

He pulled almost all the way out and slammed back in. Swears piled out of you. Your heart was pounding, your blood on fire. He had the nerve to fucking chuckle.

“You like that, don’t you?”

 “Bastard.”

He did it again. You wailed.

“Shit,” he whispered.

Any wittiness he had was gone. His pace became manic, one goal in mind. Your eyes rolled back as he continued to ram his cock against your g-spot.

“Close your fucking eyes,” he growled, pressing a hand over them.

The sensations grew stronger without the distraction of sight. Especially after hearing the familiar hiss of his helmet and feeling the subsequent mouth on your neck.

Your moan echoed around you both. Your hand came up to press against his head.

“Din-“

Your orgasm erupted without warning. He used his hold on your head to press you into the mattress, fucking you through it without relent.

“Yes, keep coming, baby.”

Wave after wave of pleasure had your legs flailing and your back arching. Stars appeared before you. The onset of tears built up behind your eyes.

“I’m not fucking done,” he mumbled.

His free hand began to swirl your clit. You thought you couldn’t scream any louder, yet he proved you wrong.

Your muscles tensed up all over again, that sweet coil threatening to break with each tiny movement.

“You better fucking come again,” he said through gritted teeth, like he was holding himself back.

The combination of thrusting and tight circles on your clit had you coming undone again with ease. Your second release was stronger, your body’s convulsions all the more erratic.

But he didn’t stop.

His hand left your eyes to grip your hips, and you had to fight with yourself to keep from looking at him.

“One. More.”

He pulled you to the edge of the bed and dragged you onto his cock over and over. The new angle was steeper, hitting something deeper inside that you weren’t aware existed.

“Oh god,” you sighed. “Right there.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you whined.

He let out a groan and picked up the speed. You threw your arm over your eyes, afraid you wouldn’t be able to control yourself for much longer.

His breath was labored, accentuated with deep heaving. He wasn’t going to last much longer, which meant—

“Runnin’ out of time, baby, you better give me one more.”

You squealed with each pulse of contact with your g-spot, but his words made a bead of annoyance interrupt your trance.

No, you thought. You’re not gonna get what you want this time.

You squeezed your muscles, clenching his cock tighter between your walls.

“FUCK,” he shouted. “Feels so good-”

His grunts were too much to bear, each one scratching that sweet spot in your brain that went straight to your pussy, but you had to hold back. He had to break first. You gripped the sheets with your free hand and clenched your jaw, desperate to keep the impending third orgasm down.

His grip on you tightened.

“Oh, fuck you,” he spat.

“You already are, dumbass.”

You didn't recognize the graininess of your own voice. But what came after told you it worked.

He leaned over you and continued the rapid pace, both of you moaning into the air just before coming in a heap of screams and roars.

He buried his head beside yours as he rode out his pleasure, taking yours with it.

He eventually slowed to a stop, standing back up and taking care to pull out the condom with his spend without spilling, just as he did every time.

You heard the plop of it getting thrown in the trash before he leaned over you once more, caging in your frame with his arms.

“Look at me.”

“I haven’t heard the helmet-”

“Look. At me.”

Even through his labored breathing, his voice was unwavering. He put his hands on either side of your face, forcing your gaze to meet his when you did peek your eyes open.

The tiny amount of air that had replenished in your lungs was gone.

He was a vision: skin glowing with sweat, eyebrows scrunched with a crease in the middle, sharp cheekbones and a hooked nose…

… But those fucking brown eyes. They were just downright unfair.

You put your hands over his wrists to keep his hold in place. A glimmer of hope dared to emerge in your head – is he letting you see him because he actually did care? Was there still something in him that loved you?

But then he let out a deep chuckle. Your heart broke all over again.

Why’d I even bother?

“You’ll never get enough, will you?”

You gulped. It always came down to this. But this time, you’d seen the truth.

Not only was this his last playing card, but you had a winning hand.

A confident grin bloomed across your face, the satisfaction already tasting so sweet now that you got to say this directly to his actual face. You’d get to see that smug expression die.

You’d get to finally be the one to let him down.

“Neither can you.”

****

taglist: @booksarekindaneat @bluemacaron @c-a-v-a-l-r-y @whataenginerd @girlofchaos @christina-loves @literallydontlook @the-little-ewok @salome-c @dear-fifi @mswarriorbabe80 @littlemisspascal @keldabe-kriff @kurlyfrasier @booksaremyyoga @elegantduckturtle @artsymaddie

[01zfan]

film it | l. sh

skateboarder!sohee x videographer!reader | 7k words

ninona lore this took me back to my skateboarding days…don’t know why i didn’t realize the tea with skateboarding sohee earlier.

i listened to tape you by N.E.R.D. while writing this. also the music i imagined for the highlight reel is humps for the boulevard by rodney o and joe cooley!

contains: sex & recording the act (consensual), mentions of skateboarding related injuries (nothing major)

you always heard sohee first.

the sound of the wheels on his skateboard gliding across the ground behind you. you only saw him like a flash of light, there one second gone the next and always followed by his crew of skateboarders. the only time he had spoken to you was the warnings that he was coming behind you and he didn’t plan on slowing down. 

your interaction with sohee was so limited that you thought he was talking to someone else when he first addressed you.

“hey!” he yelled to you.

you looked around the skating park to see who sohee was talking to. you sat on the bench, mouthful of your sandwich when you realized sohee was looking straight at you. when you pointed to yourself sohee nodded, smiling back at his friends before he continued.

“you good with a camera?” he asked, still yelling.

your shitty camcorder sat next to you, resting on top of your recently bought board. you had picked up a hobby last minute for the summer, in no way at all was that connected to the man that spoke to you. you swallowed your bite before nodding your head, instinctually dusting crumbs off of your body.

“yeah.” you yelled back.

sohee looked back to his friends one last time, all of them giving him nods of approval.

“can you film us doing some tricks?” he asked.

you nodded your head with a little too much enthusiasm, and you got up from your spot on the ground a little too quickly. maybe something about the acknowledgment made you feel vindicated, or maybe you liked having something to do. being at the skatepark alone was less fun than you thought it would be, so you leapt at the chance to spend time with people. they didn’t care that you were wobbly on your skateboard, they slowed down as they gave you instructions on where they were going so you could follow them. 

“i’m gonna start on the a-frame and then go to the euro gap.” taesan instructed, pointing at each structure.

“got it.” you chirped.

you started the camera at taesan’s face, going all the way down to his feet planted on the skateboard. before taesan could start, another one of sohee’s friends skated behind you. you turned the camcorder quickly to face him, and he looked shocked for a moment before adjusting to the camera. 

“make sure you get him eating shit too.” leehan said.

you turned the camera back to taesan as the rest of the crew laughed behind you.

“you can’t even nollie flip.” taesan teased.

“fuck you.” leehan laughed.

the rest of the day you spent with sohee and his crew, filming their tricks and them bickering with one another. they even taught you how to be more steady on your board while recording at the same time. 

by the time you guys were done the sun was setting and you all smelled like sweat. you could feel how dirty the clothes you wore were, your shirt felt like a dirty rag that dried in the sun on your body. even if you all smelled and were all still sweating from the heat you ended the day at the top of the ramp huddled together watching the raw footage. they all crowded around the tiny viewfinder, laughing at their failures and exclaiming at the successful attempts at tricks. sohee constantly praised your recording ability, to which you shook your head each time. 

“it’s nothing really.” you pointed at the screen, waiting for a certain part you knew would illicit a reaction. “this is when leehan scraped his knee trying to nollie flip.” you said.

when the videos were finished, sohee’s friends began grabbing their things but sohee lingered close to you. he waited until you looked up from your camcorder to him, and he turned at the same time. you got flustered and sohee smiled at you trying to avoid eye contact, only breaking away when another one of his friends spoke.

“i’m tired as hell. i’m going home.” seunghan said, throwing his backpack over his shoulder.

“me too.” haewon got up from the ramp, using a grip on your shoulder to push herself up.

seunghan made his way down the ramp and the others followed. you found sohee lingering behind once again, waiting for you to grab your things. while his other friends walk ahead, he stayed behind to walk with you. he adjusts the backpack on his shoulder and looks to his friends that talk ahead of you two.

“i mean it though,” sohee turns to face you. “you’re really good at recording us.” he says.

now it’s your turn to adjust your backpack, shaking your head shyly the same way you did before.

“it’s nothing really.” you say awkwardly.

you and sohee walked in silence, the only sound between the two of you was his dragging feet on the cement. you clutched your hand around your camcorder, the feeling of now or never crossed your mind as you spoke.

“i would love to film you guys.” sohee turned to you. “for the summer. maybe even make a little highlight reel maybe.” you offered.

you saw sohee open his mouth, his hand going to the back of his neck before the rest of the crew overheard you. seunghan basically leaped on your shoulders, all of them jumped around you thanking you for taking the time out of your summer to film them. haewon promised she’d teach you how to really skate and leehan said he would master the nollie flip by the end of the summer. the only person that wasn’t enthusiastic was sohee. your eyes stayed on the hand that was scratching at the nape of his neck. 

when the crew dispersed to skate back home, you found out that both you and sohee had to go in the same direction. when you thought you’d hear the familiar warning of him behind you on his skateboard you instead heard the sound of his feet running on the road to catch up to you. 

even with the nice gesture, without sohee’s crew to fill the silence between you both it was awkward. his lack of enthusiasm when you offered to film them for the summer still weighed heavy on your mind, making you feel tense. you two walked in complete silence, you even purposely went on a different path to separate from sohee. he watched you as you started walking diagonally behind him, trying to cut through a residential area.

“i’m going this way.” you said, pointing to a beaten path.

sohee looked down at the skateboard in his hand. he looked forward on the road he was walking on. for a moment underneath the light of the streetlamp he looked like he wanted to say something. the two of you lingered underneath the artificial light, getting ready to walk on your own separate paths.

“i’ll see you tomorrow?” you asked, still standing in the same place.

sohee nodded, putting his skateboard down on the road next to him. he tightened the straps on his backpack as he got on his board.

“yeah. see you tomorrow.” he said.

and with that, sohee started skating down the road to head home. you stayed underneath the light of the streetlamp, trying to think about what you did wrong. the cicadas matched the buzzing in your mind as you ran through every single interaction you had with sohee. when you realized he probably hated the idea of someone basically inviting themselves to join the crew it all made sense. you didn’t even think in the moment how presumptuous you were being, you just let anything fall from your lips to fill the silence. you cringed to yourself, even letting out an audible groan as you realized your social fumble.  

you thought about your fumble for the rest of the night as you watched videos on how to make a successful highlight reel for skating. you even uploaded old files from your camcorder that you had been putting off to make room for new skating videos.

you came to the conclusion the following day that sohee was confusing. despite him not seeming apprehensive of you becoming a temporary member of his crew, he spent an ungodly time around you. during the breaks he would ask what you packed for lunch, while the rest of his crew convened he would find his way next to you asking for your thoughts. each time you shook your head, not feeling it was your place to give input as a temporary member of the group.

sohee lingering only got worse as the summer went on. he picked up the habit of waiting beside you at all times, even when he was up next for a trick. you became sohee’s director, telling him from behind the camera to go stand with the rest of the crew, or to go to the ramp because he was next. each time he was caught off guard, smiling and shaking his head before jogging to his correct spot. he eventually became something like your shadow, always watching the raw footage over your shoulder at the end of each practice. he would always make sure you could hear his reactions, letting out ooh’s and aah’s each time he saw something cool. sohee even began offering to come with you on the dirt path to your home—you believed that was the first time you ever saw sohee give up the chance to ride his skateboard. 

by the end of the summer, when the video was almost finished and your relationship with sohee was even more confusing than before. you knew at the very least that sohee liked your camerawork. he complimented you so much throughout the summer that you had finally gotten use to the praise. you accepted all of his kind words with a smile on your face. but even if sohee gave you compliments, something still felt off. you were friends with other people in the crew, you had worked up a good rapport and a good friendship to the point that you become something more than an omniscient viewer of the life. but you still couldn’t pinpoint what you were to sohee, and as a result you couldn’t determine what he was to you. 

as the final month of summer approached, you had given up completely on trying to figure out sohee. you instead put all of your effort into the video, spending weeks perfecting everything. you don’t know why you worked so hard on it—you took the extra steps to add segments for all the different tricks. you added bloopers at the end, all the failed attempts as something to laugh at. you had a sleepless week for no reason, trying to find the perfect background music and sync it with the transitions. when you were done you even went the extra mile to burn it to a DVD, keeping it safe in your backpack before heading to the park. 

you were extra excited at the skatepark, the nerves of showing the crew your finished video made you antsy. they had stopped asking you when the video would be done a long time ago. they wanted to give you time, but without fail towards the end of practice everyday they would be waiting with bated breath for an update. you had told the crew it’s almost ready a million times and told them just one more week nearly a month ago. when everyone was grabbing their things getting ready to go you held your backpack close to your body, remembering the DVD that sat at the bottom.

“so about that video.” you tried not to laugh when everyone whipped their heads around to look at you. “i finished it.” you said nonchalantly.

despite you trying to remain casual everyone instantly reacted. all of the crew immediately started jumping up and down, circling around you as they waited for you to show them the proof. when you pulled out the DVD they ooh’d and aah’d at the novelty of it all. everyone wanted to see the video, and it didn’t take long before the crew was following you home to watch the highlight reel. 

you corralled everyone into your recently cleaned room, clearing off your chairs to try and accommodate for the extra bodies. you found your seat on the ground at the foot of your bed between leehan and sohee. you tried not to think too much about how close you were to sohee compared to leehan, instead focusing on your growing nerves of showing something you spent so much time on. you leaned forward to pull the DVD from it’s translucent green holder, putting it in your player and closing it. you sat back in your same spot while everyone waited for it to start

the music started playing before the video played. a loud intro, the beat making everyone nod their heads. the beginning of the highlight reel played as an intro for everyone in the crew, earning a small cheer each time someones name popped up. everyone commented on the special effects, and when the actual tricks started everyone only got more excited. you turned to the side during the video, trying to silently gauge everyone’s reaction. you felt relief seeing everyone smile and deeply involved in the video. you felt even more relieved seeing sohee so clearly enjoying it. he had his palms keeping him propped up, his stretched out legs swaying to the beat of the music. when something particularly cool happened he turned and looked at you, and you had to turn quickly to face your small television. 

when the video was over, everyone was silent for a moment. before doubt could even enter your mind, seunghan spoke first.

“that was perfect.” he said.

almost instantly, everyone else started agreeing. everyone wanted to know how you did it, what song you used to play in the background, why you put so much effort into it. when leehan asked for a copy everyone else started agreeing, saying they wanted their own copy too. you felt high in demand, waving your hands to try and get everyone to quiet down.

“i can burn some extra DVD’s.” you looked to your computer and the stack of DVD’s you already had piled up next to your monitor. “it might take awhile, but i can get it to you guys.” you said.

“take all the time you need.” taesan said.

everyone nodded in agreement, not wanting to rush you anymore.

“i could probably burn them tonight. have them ready tomorrow” you said.

“i can stay.” everyone turned to sohee still sitting on the shag rug. “help you burn them. i live right over there anyway.” sohee said.

he projected his voice and gave his reasons to everyone in the room, but he stayed looking at you. when you nodded your head wordlessly, sohee smiled before going back to looking at the television. the rest of the crew exchanged looks, but they didn’t bother to press the conversation any further.

it wasn’t long before everyone was collecting their things and grabbing the trash of the snacks from the convenience store you guys raided. everyone talked about seeing you soon, and thanking you for the video. when you walked everyone out sohee stayed behind to start burning the DVD’s for you.

when you made it back into your room, you saw that your computer was already in the process of burning a DVD. sohee was back in his original spot at the foot of your bed, knees drawn to his chest as he looked up at you. suddenly you wished you had declined his offer to stay and help. you had narrowly avoided being alone with sohee all summer, but now here he was sitting on your shag rug looking up at you. sohee timidly tapped the spot you were sitting earlier, and you tried your best to seem nonchalant as you sat next to him.

the silence stretched on for a long time. for awhile, it was just you and sohee listening to your computer etch the video into the DVD, and the sound of birds chirping outside your window. when you heard the sound of your metal bed frame creaking due to sohee leaning on it, you kept your eyes on him. he rocked side to side, his knees still drawn closely to his chest.

“the video was really cool by the way.” he said.

you started picking at the strands on your orange shag rug, suddenly feeling too embarrassed to look at him. the fact that you could feel him looking down at you didn’t help, it only made you focus on anything in your room but him.

“thank you.” you said, smiling to the ground.

sohee scooted closer to you, until his foot was in your line of sight. you still refused to look at him, the feeling of embarrassment kept your eyes trained on the rug. the two of you are silent, and you can hear sohee shift as he takes in a deep breath.

“can you look at me?”  he asks quietly.

you look up to sohee quickly, not sure why you listened to him over the screaming voice in your head. he looked at you gently, gaze flickering over the features on your face. having him this close to you made you want to recoil away, but you didn’t want to miss a single second of him taking you in. when he scooted closer you didn’t back away, even if you felt a pounding in your chest and skull. 

“you’re really cool.” sohee complimented.

you let your hands rest in your lap, instead picking at your fingers over the shag carpet. your mouth felt to dry to speak, but you nodded and tried swallowing your spit just to wet your mouth.

“you too.” you said back.

sohee leaned into you quickly. it was too fast for you to recognize what was going on, one moment you were thinking about sohee and the next he was so close to you that his breath fanned your face. his lips were soft against yours, and for a moment you two stayed like that, with sohee leaned into you while both of your lips were still. he pulled away before moving his lips against yours, the tiny sound of your separation permeating in your brain.

“is this okay?” he asked.

“i’m so confused.” when sohee tilted his head in confusion you continued. “did you like the video that much?” you asked.

“i was kinda afraid i wasn’t being obvious enough.” sohee laughed.

when he saw the same confused expression on your face his hand went to scratch at the back of his neck. 

“i really like spending time with you.” sohee admitted.

”i thought you didn’t even want me in the group.” you said.

as you remembered sohee’s reaction when you offered to film the crew’s highlight reel, his face completely changed. instantly he was shaking his head, putting his hands on your shoulder to bring your attention to him.

“i didn’t want you to think i was using you because of your camera. i wanted to find a way to spend time with you.” he clarified.

when sohee tells you his reasoning everything makes sense. the way he stuck to you at the skatepark, how he always watched you so carefully when you were trying to skate. you realized the tense atmosphere when he would walk you home was the complete opposite of apprehensiveness. even though everything makes sense, you still feel upset. when your eyebrows furrow you see sohee instantly become apologetic.

“are you mad at me?” sohee looks back to your computer and sohee starts shuffling to stand up. “i should probably go.” he says.

before sohee can fully get up, you grab his arm. he freezes instantly, and when you guide him back to the ground he follows immediately. when he bites his lip nervously you want to tell him you could’ve been kissing all summer underneath the street lamps of your neighborhood if he had just been more upfront with you. you could’ve been sneaking around and pushing him up against the chainlink fence that surrounded the skatepark before everyone else arrived. but words have barely served you up to this point, and your throat is so dry you think your voice would fail you anyway. so instead of trying to express your feelings with words, you use your grip on sohee’s arm to bring him closer to you. 

sohee let his legs straighten until they were flat against your rug. instantly you put your hand on his thigh, using your grip on him to turn your body to kiss him better. sohee responded by moving a hand to your waist, sticking his ring finger in the belt loop of your pants while his other fingers rested on the bare skin of your torso. even from this little contact you already felt overwhelmed. 

when you pulled away from sohee he kept one of his hands on your face. you took him in like this, how his lips were still parted and his eyes were still closed before he realized you weren’t going back in to kiss him. his eyelashes fluttered when he blinked a few times, trying to recover.

“i really like spending time with you too.” you said quickly.

when sohee pulled you in again, he let his lips press a little harder into yours. you felt his hand on your waist move to your leg, and you let sohee move your legs until they were on top of his. he followed your movements, his hand splaying across your jean clad thigh before pulling you in closer by your legs.

when you were close enough, sohee moved his hand from your leg to the small of your back. he pressed gently, until your back arched and you pressed even more into him. you let your tongue go into his mouth first, and he tilted his head and parted his lips a little wider to give you access. 

the sound of kissing and your jeans rubbing against eachother filled the room. you had one of your hands behind you, gripping your shag rug from the tension and for stability. sohee couldn’t take his hands off of you, pulling and kneading your skin while he pressed his tongue against yours. the kisses were beginning to get sloppy, when you pulled away again there was a thin string of spit stretched between the two of you.

sohee licked his lips and broke the string. he looked up from your lips, scanning over your whole face. you did the same, taking in sohee against the backdrop of your room and his hair that was already sticking up in odd places. 

you were lost in the smell of sweat that clung to his baggy clothes and the wind burn that gave him a natural blush while his eyes wandered down, staying stuck on a part of your shag rug.

“i wanna film you.” sohee said, quietly.

you were still coming down from the feeling of sohee against you as you listened to his words. you followed his line of sight to the camcorder that was turned on its side. it was enticing, looking at the camera that was already on and in arms reach. the only thing you would’ve had to do was hold it in your hands and press the record button.

both you and sohee reached for the camera at the same time, and both of you hesitated at the same time too. you went back to looking at sohee, feeling his warm body press against yours. his hand had moved back to your legs, pulling them in close to his stomach. he looked at the camera once more and decided against it, shaking his head as his hands started creeping back up your leg.

you forgot about your camera as sohee pulled his legs from under you. he stood on his knees now, and it was you looking up at him as he came closer to you. you moved to give him space, and he moved his hand to your shoulder to slowly push you down. 

with your back resting on the shag rug there was another pause as sohee looked down at you. his shirt was loose on his body, hanging down and revealing his toned stomach you sneaked so many peaks at over the summer. when he saw you looking he guided your hands to the bottom of his shirt. when you fisted the fabric and started pulling up sohee did the rest, a single hand reaching for the back to pull it over his head. he balled up his shirt and put it underneath your head for comfort, and you mumbled a quiet thanks.

“i wanna touch you so bad.” sohee said.

you felt your own nerves creeping up on you as you felt sohee ghost his hand over your clothed stomach. he hovered above your body, but you swore you could feel the warmth coming from his hand in waves. you nodded your head, and you guided sohee’s hand underneath your shirt.

you could feel his gentle hand press into your stomach instantly. he kneaded the soft skin, holding onto whatever he could touch. you were already squirming underneath him, tiny sighs escaping your lips as you tried to comprehend what was happening.

“can i take your clothes off?” he asked.

the calm was absent from sohee’s voice now, reeling off the feeling of your skin in his hand. when you lifted your hips he took his hands off of you, reaching to the waistband of your tight jeans to pull them down your body. your fingers were barely fast enough to take off the button before sohee started pulling, and when they were loose enough you started pushing them down your legs. one of sohee’s hands lifted the end of your shirt, revealing the bottom of your bra. when sohee saw that the color matched the trim of your underwear he nearly started drooling. he bent his head to place a sloppy kiss on the apex of your thigh, earning a surprised mewl. when he blew cold air on his spit he saw goosebumps raise across your skin. 

from down here, sohee could smell you so clearly. although dried sweat clung to your body and left a salty taste on sohee’s tongue he felt himself needing more. you smelled like the soil and the air and the sun rolled into one, laid out for him like you were something to eat. sohee was getting high off of you, and the way you squirmed underneath gave him tunnel vision. he focused on what was hiding underneath the soft pair of panties that were clad to your body.

“can i eat you out?” he asked bluntly.

you felt all the blood drain from your face when sohee’s words hung in the air. your eyes that focused on the ceiling fan broke away from the spinning blades to see if sohee was as red as you felt. but he was unashamed, staring at you almost like he was pleading. you couldn’t say no to him, nothing in you wanted to say no. but simultaneously saying yes to something so lewd made you shake your head.

“you don’t have—.” you said timidly.

“i want to.” sohee’s hand went to the thin waistband of your panties, breaking past the elastic. you saw sohee’s fingers curve underneath the fabric, and his cold fingernails pressed into your pelvis. “really.” he assured.

you stared at him for a second longer, trying to hold out just incase he changed his mind. when sohee remained unfaltering, you felt enough of an ego boost to nod your head.

“okay.” you whispered.

sohee was slow pulling your panties down. he moved from between your legs to the side, resting on his haunches as he pulled them down your legs. his gaze flickered from your legs to your face, and then your exposed stomach. sohee alternated between all of it while he went back to slot himself between your legs. you spread slightly for him, watching him look at your core. with the back of your hand pressed to your forehead you felt hotter than ever. when sohee placed a kiss on your inner thigh you twitched.

sohee motioned for your hand the gripped the shag rug, instead guiding it to his brown hair. he encouraged you to tighten your grip, and when you did he nodded approvingly.

“so i know when i’m doing a good job.” he said quickly.

before you could say anything else, sohee placed a chaste kiss right on your spread cunt. you already felt yourself tugging at his hair, lips parted as you started inching your body towards his mouth. sohee smiled into the next chaste kiss, then he let his lips slightly part. before you knew it he was placing open mouthed sloppy kisses on your heat, and you were grinding your hips onto his mouth.

when sohee pushed his finger into your clenching hole, your back arched off the rug. sohee pressed his hand into your lower stomach to keep you still, and you began lifting your head to see him clearly. he was focused on your cunt, kissing and licking the most sensitive parts of you. when he felt your eyes he locked in on you, moving his hasty lips to suck on your clit. 

you thought about immortalizing the image of sohee’s plush lips wrapped around your bundle of nerves and the sound of him moaning into your folds for eternity. his eyes looking up at you for approval could be kept on your hard drive forever, reserved for your eyes only. you moved your body to the side to reach for the camcorder and sohee unknowingly pressed his hand deeper into your stomach to keep you in place. you curled around his hand as he applied pressure to the tension building deep in your stomach. he kept his eyes focused on your clit for a second longer, replacing his mouth with his free hand as he caught his breath. 

“sohee.” you got his attention back, and his eyes followed your hand that was reaching for the camcorder. “can i record you, sohee?” you asked timidly.

he looked up to you again, this time making eye contact with the camcorder you now held your shaking hand. he felt you clench around his fingers as your eyes stayed focus on the folded playback screen. sohee could see the dim glow of the video on your face as you brought the camera closer, trying to fit as much as you could in the frame.

“of course.” sohee said, placing a kiss to your inner thigh.

you let out a shaky breath and sohee saw the red light flicker on to point at him. sohee put his hand on your ankle, guiding one of your legs until your thigh was over his shoulder. you moved behind the camera, your quiet gasps caught on film as sohee pulled your heat closer to his lips. his eyes found the lens, his smile caught on the viewfinder. you watched the tiny screen with bated breath, only looking up when sohee did it first. he held your eye contact above the camera, a smile on his face as he leaned onto his side. with his free hand he plunged two fingers into your heat without hesitation. his lips parted as he watched you tilt your head back. tiny whimpers slipped past your lips as sohee continued pumping his fingers in and out of you, twisting his wrist to give you more stimulation. he looked down at the camera that was already pointing away from the action due to you being distracted. sohee stopped pumping his fingers, his eyes were focused on your heaving chest as you tried to regain your composure. when you lifted your head from the rug sohee gave you his most innocent smile, nodding towards the camera resting on your stomach.

“just keep filming me, yeah?” sohee said encouragingly.

“okay.” you shaky hand pointed the camera back to his face. “i got you.” you said out of breath.

sohee continued where he left off, adding three fingers and flicking his tongue on your clit. he looked up to the shaking camera occasionally, but his eyes were mainly focused on your back arching off the rug and you biting your lip to stifle your sounds. he took it as a challenge, trying everything he could to hear you make noise for him. he imagined hearing your whimpers and moans behind the camera when he would watch the playback. the mental image pushed sohee to pump his fingers in and out of you faster, until you brought your other leg to rest on his shoulder.

“sohee.” you whimpered behind the camera. “i’m so close.”

he nodded against your clit, pulling away to let a glob of his spit and your slick slide down your folds. sohee heard you moan at that sensation, loud and desperate as it acted as a lubricant for his pumping fingers. sohee could see your tight grip on the camcorder as your unfiltered sounds filled the room.

“let me hear you.” sohee said quickly before going back to your clit.

you registered sohee’s request late as the feeling washed over you. you were barely in your right mind to hold the camera straight as your legs closed in around sohee’s head. you were pathetic in every sense of the word. the loud moans that bounced off the walls of your room, the way you rode sohee’s tongue, the way you shook your head from the overstimulation. you were a mess and sohee watched it all, and soon you would be able to as well.

when you were done, your still recording camcorder rested on your chest as you desperately tried catching your breath. you saw sohee raise from between your legs, wiping his face with the back of his hand before crawling up your body. he brought you in for another kiss, slipping his tongue into your mouth instantly. you moaned at the taste of yourself and sohee broke away quickly to let you try and catch your breath.

“i need you. so bad.” you murmured.

you held up the camcorder, shaking as you watched sohee stand up to take off his pants and underwear. he looked around your room, his erect dick bobbing mid-air. you looked past your camera to stare at his body.

“do you have condoms?” sohee asked.

you nodded, making the camera move as a result. sohee followed your pointed finger offscreen to the top drawer of your dresser.

“it’s at the—“

sohee found it quickly, holding the foil packet like it was a piece of treasure. he fumbled with the perforated tear as he went back to kneeling beside you, nearly ripping the package in half. before he could lay down you pointed to your bed. 

“can you grab me a pillow for my back?” you asked.

sohee nodded, immediately grabbing the exact pillow you had in mind. 

he dropped to his knees in front of you, crawling with the pillow and condom in his hand. when he was close enough he helped you lift your hips and slid the pillow underneath, looking to you for approval. when you nodded and pointed the camera to his torso. you, sohee, and the camera all watched him grab his hard dick in his hand as he slid the condom on. he rested on his legs and pinched the end of the latex, making sure it was on securely.

when he was done sohee motioned for the camera, and you lifted your weak hand from your stomach to give him the camcorder. he pulled your hand from the strap gently and put his hand in the same place to hold it securely.

for a moment sohee turned the camera around to check for the red dot and you could see him in the viewfinder. something about him looked so perfect to you, almost like he was made to be shot on shitty technology from the 90’s. you saw his large eyes blink for a moment before he turned the camera back to face you, and you could hear the sounds of him messing with the zoom as he tried to find his own angle. he constantly looked up from the tiny screen on the camcorder to look at you, trying to make sure he was getting the perfect framing.

“you look so pretty on camera baby.” sohee said.

his inexperience being behind the camera was obvious as he continued messing with the settings, and your inexperience with being in front of the camera was obvious too. you instinctually let your knees close in on eachother, suddenly nervous to show what you had exposed moments ago.

sohee instantly notices, lowering the camera from his face to slot himself between your legs. he gently separates them with a comforting hand, rubbing your knee tenderly. 

“so pretty.” sohee holds the camera back up, tracing the line of your legs up to your face that felt like it was on fire. “just for us right?” he asked.

“just for us.” you said, nodding your head.

sohee pointed the camera down at your cunt, his free hand running down your inner thigh then back to your knee. you were wiggling your hips closer to him in anticipation, eyes locked on his twitching dick. sohee pointed the camera to you and you let him catch your hungry gaze. he smirked and moved his hand to his dick, letting the camera film him slapping your puffy folds. you jolted from the sensation and tiny gasps slipped past your lips. you could see his smile behind the camera as he kept going.

sohee shuffled forward on his knees until his hips were close to yours. when he lined himself up at your entrance he looked down at you. sohee reached his hand that wasn’t holding the camera out to you, and you grabbed it without hesitation. when he pushed into you, both of your hands were squeezing at the others desperately as the sensation overtook you both. sohee could barely focus on holding the camera as he slid inside of you, and you squeezed your eyes shut as you felt yourself clamp around him repeatedly.

“holy fuck.” sohee pulled out and watched himself in the playback when he pushed himself back in. “you feel so good.” he groaned.

sohee’s gaze flickered between the camera and your body as he began working his hips. he was slow and deliberate with each thrust, making sure you felt all of him. you started moaning pitifully, feeling that familiar warmth slowly spread across your body. you started swiveling your hips, trying to get more stimulation.

“want me to touch you?” sohee asked behind the camera.

you shook your head no, pressing your body against the ground. when you looked up you saw that sohee had lowered the camera slightly so you could see his whole face.

“i wanna keep holding your hand.” you whimpered.

sohee nodded his head knowingly, seeing that you two were now in a predicament. he wanted to see you finish, but at the same time he only had two hands. he didn’t want to stop filming and he didn’t want to let go of your soft hand that was holding his so tight. his eyes drifted to your free hand that still gripped your shag rug and as if a lightbulb went off above his head, he knew what to do.

“can you—” his train of thought was cut off when you clamped around him again. “touch yourself for me?” he asked.

instantly you nodded, you hand going to your clit to rub gentle circles. sohee saw your body react quickly as you arched from the ground and bit your lip a little harder. sohee was so immersed in his view that he forgot about the camera catching all of it on tape. sohee memorized the way you touched yourself to do it to you later. he watched the muscles in your stomach jump and your body occasionally twitch. his lips were parting solely from seeing you get closer and closer. when your grip on his hand tightened sohee hissed, driving his hips deeper to try and give you what you needed. he saw your half lidded eyes open a little wider as your fingers worked faster.

“sohee.” you pulled him closer by his hand, squeezing so tight that sohee’s grip loosened. “i’m cumming” you whimpered.

“go ahead.” sohee grunted.

your fingers that worked your clit started faltering and doing incomplete circles as the rest of your body became tense. sohee stared at you in awe, suddenly remembering that he would have video proof of something so beautiful forever. he took this time to watch you with his own two eyes and to feel you everywhere. when he swiped his tongue across his lip he still tasted you, as sweet as the view before him. he instinctually babbled praises to you, things he had kept to himself all summer or hid under the blanket statement “you’re really good at filming”. 

when your body fully relaxed, and your walls started feeling like a heartbeat around his dick, sohee felt himself becoming desperate. he started picking up the pace but failing to hit the spot he needed due to his preoccupied hands. you must’ve noticed, because you weakly lifted your head to look down.

“go faster sohee.” you pushed your hips to meet his uneven thrusts for emphasis. “please.” you begged.

sohee nodded his head and then moved his hand holding the camera to separate your knees further. you could see him trying to figure out the angle, if it would be possible to give you what you needed while also holding the camera. you felt sohee look at you as he took his hand from the strap that held your camera securely in his hand.

“here.” he motioned for you to grab the camcorder. “hold the camera for me baby.” he said.

sohee put the camera back in your hand, and you propped yourself on your elbows to try and see it all. his speed didn’t falter, and his quiet moans rung throughout your room as he fucked you through his orgasm. you felt yourself feeling the aftershocks of your own peak, becoming so sensitive that your body shook each time you clamped around sohee’s dick. he came forward, head pressed into your collarbone as he kissed your clammy skin. his free hand went to the underside of your thigh and gripped you harshly, and his controlled moans turned into whimpers as he continued rutting inside of you. your view from the camera was obstructed by sohee’s body, but you still brought your lips to sohee’s ear and let your breath fan the shell.

“we look so good together.” you whispered.

after you said that, sohee stilled inside of you. his moan vibrated against your skin and his grip on your hand became vice-like. you flicked your hips upwards a few times until sohee pressed his teeth into your skin.

you let your camcorder rest on your shag rug beside your two bodies as you brought your hand to press into the back of sohee’s head, making him kiss your skin with a new vigor. you two were equally ruined, out of breath as you both tried to keep the stimulation going. 

sohee’s lips travelled from your collarbone to your neck, then your jaw and ending at your cheek. you brought him back down to the ground with you, chests so close they touched each time you breathed. he settled on top of you, kissing your lips one final time before pulling out. he sighed and you turned to see sohee’s shaking hand stop the recording. he rolled next to you on the ground, letting the camcorder rest on his chest.

the two of you stared at your ceiling fan, laying side by side. you reached your hand out to sohee and he grabbed it silently. he squeezed your hand as he took a deep breath in.

“you’re joining the crew now, right?” sohee asked, still looking at the fan.

“if that’s okay with you.” you said.

“more than okay with me.” sohee says instantly.

you hum, feeling like a thank you doesn’t quite fit the situation. your mind is on other things as you see the camera resting on sohee’s chest in your peripheral vision. 

“hey sohee?”

you turn to face him, and sohee turns his head from your ceiling to make eye contact with you.

“do you wanna watch it?”

[smhalltheurlsaretaken]

~all creatures great and small~ (amazing illustration by the awesome @david-talks-sw)

“And just what exactly is it that you’ve been doing?”

Obi-Wan had to stop himself from giving his fellow Councillor—and friend—a rather pronounced eyeroll. 

“You tell me,” he said without taking his eyes off his clamoring little herd, feeling rather proud of himself. “What does it look like I’m doing?”

Mace came up to his side and crossed his arms, looking decidedly unimpressed. He looked at Obi-Wan, then at his rambunctious little friends and their merrymaking, then back at Obi-Wan again. 

“It looks like you have been avoiding meetings all morning.” 

Obi-Wan couldn’t help the small smirk that tugged at his mouth. He carefully put his hands in his large sleeves.

“Have I?” He knew he wouldn’t be able to stop laughing if he saw Mace’s no doubt exasperated face, so he kept carefully looking onward. “You should have called me.”

“You know I did,” Mace griped, valiantly ignoring the racket and still boring holes in the side of Obi-Wan’s face.

If it came to a contest of wills, Obi-Wan knew he’d be hard pressed to match Mace’s stubbornness. He turned to face him, and inevitably let out a huffed chuckle. Mace looked annoyed alright, but he could do nothing about the twinkle in his deep eyes. 

“You,” Mace insisted, no doubt trying to maintain what he probably hoped to be a convincingly stern demeanor, “have spent all day corrupting our next generation instead of going over mission reports.”

“Really, Mace—”

A yellow blur careening between the two of them nearly knocked them off their feet. A beige, more bipedal one rushed right after it, bumping into them both with equal speed if not equal force. 

“Sorry Masters!” the youngling yelled over her shoulder without stopping. 

Obi-Wan had to cough into his fist to keep from cackling.

“Obi-Wan.” Mace said.

“She apologized,” Obi-Wan pointed out with a brilliant smile.

“You still haven’t.”

“What for?”

Mace’s control finally cracked, and he thrust an accusing finger at Obi-Wan’s innocent face, ready to give into a rare display of unrestrained aggravation. Obi-Wan quickly batted it away and beat him to the punch.

“It’s a perfectly good way of teaching the younglings patience and control!”

Mace blinked at him, his mouth left hanging open, his finger still up and now pointing somewhere over to the right. He turned slowly, and surveyed the bustling courtyard in bemusement. The half-dozen or so pufferpigs that Obi-Wan had let loose there were being corralled by three times as many eager younglings, clone cadets and Padawans, and the animals all felt entitled to express the full range of their feelings on the matter in a loud and enthusiastic fashion. Little Mari Amithest was still running after the particularly rowdy creature that had mistaken Obi-Wan and Mace for Rodian bowling pins. 

Mace’s eyebrows climbed to previously undiscovered heights. 

“What part of this,” he gestured incredulously, “is controlled?”

“None of the pigs have puffed yet,” Obi-Wan explained seriously. 

Mace’s eyebrows were now on their way into orbit. A moment passed. Then, his expression of astonishment seamlessly melted into curiosity.

“They haven’t?” he asked, considering the whole bunch with renewed interest. 

“I told you, it’s a proven method,” Obi-Wan insisted, vindicated. He pointed to the far corner of the courtyard, where Katooni was showing some of the younger children how to feed a happy looking unpuffed puffer. “My Padawan has taught that one to do tricks.”

The squealing puffer was hopping from one foot to the other before avidly sweeping treats from the children’s outstretched hands. 

Mace was now looking suitably impressed. More careful study of Mari’s chase was making it apparent that the animal she was after was not distressed in any way, but was—rather mischievously—trying to run off with her sash clutched in its stout trunk. 

“You shouldn’t let emotions cloud your perception,” Obi-Wan reminded him in a serious voice.

“Hm,” Mace conceded magnanimously, impervious to the teasing.

The twinkle of carefully contained amusement that had been present in his eyes from the start had won over all other sentiments. A wet snort had the two Masters look down at the adventurous pufferpig that had made its way over to them. The amicable beast was fixing them with soulful blue eyes, candidly inoffensive. Its stubby tail was wagging quite politely. Mace distractedly bent down to pet the expectant critter on its broad, squishy face.

“It wants to smell your lightsaber,” Obi-Wan warned. “They like crystals.”

Mace straightened and put a hand on his hilt.

“The Mining Guild didn’t pick them up yesterday?” he inquired. “That was on the agenda.”

Obi-Wan shrugged.

“They tried, but for some reason all the identity chips turned out to be unreadable. There’s no way to prove who these fellows belong to.”

Mace gave him a flat look. 

“Hondo stole them from a Republic transport.”

“There’s all sorts of things on Republic transports,” Obi-Wan reasonably pointed out.

“The transport was chartered by the Mining Guild.”

“Hondo wiped the manifest during his hijacking. There’s just no way to know.”

“Your Padawan was there to escort the Mining Guild representatives.”

“Some mysteries can never hope to be solved.”

The pufferpig had taken to bonking its head against their legs affectionately. Mace, bowing to the undeniable strength of Obi-Wan’s ironclad argumentation, very seriously gave the tenacious quadruped another pat.

“They’re not staying,” he reminded Obi-Wan firmly. 

“Obviously not,” Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow. “The Temple would be a terrible environment for them.”

His friend narrowed his eyes suspiciously. 

“And you’re not making me spend my time finding them a place.”

“Honestly, Mace.” Obi-Wan gave the affable puffer a gentle shove, and it obediently trotted away to a nearby group of younglings and clone cadets who were already entertaining one of its siblings. Obi-Wan wiped his hands on his pants. “Naboo has very responsible educational farms.”

“Does it,” Mace said mildly. 

“Including a recently opened one in the Lake District.” 

Unashamedly petty enjoyment rang in the Force.

“Don’t come to me when Skywalker tries to send them back.”

“Who says I’ll pick up when he does?”

Obi-Wan loved Anakin, dearly. Still, he hadn’t yet quite forgiven his old Padawan for retiring—running away—before they could make him shoulder his share of the sacred responsibility of wrangling the Temple’s significantly increased youngling population. It was Luke and Leia’s birthday soon anyway. 

“You’re stooping to deviousness,” Mace said, carefully neutral.

Obi-Wan gave him a wry look. 

“Never. Revenge is not the Jedi way,” he said just as calmly. 

“It’s them you’re supposed to be teaching,” Mace said with a short nod towards the unruly bunch. “He’s had his turn.”

Speaking of teaching…

“Oh my,” Obi-Wan said smugly, pointing to a boy who had taken to carefully levitating a surprisingly compliant—if a little alarmed—pufferpig, “that wouldn’t happen to be Caleb, would it?”

His fellow Council member was now pinching the bridge of his nose, his other hand planted on his hip.��

“I must say, that young man is certainly very skilled at forming connections with animals. Depa must be very proud.”

“Just don’t,” Mace groaned. He whipped out his communicator. “He’s supposed to be meditating with Yoda right now.”

“That explains it,” Obi-Wan said. 

Master Yoda was slowly ambling into the courtyard, looking quite pleased with what he was seeing. He poked misbehaving younglings with his cane as he walked, chuckling to himself when they yelped and hastily reached with the Force to make sure the pufferpigs stayed relaxed. The pufferpigs themselves were only curious, and in a sufficiently playful mood that the younglings’ offended squeaking was not enough to agitate them. Caleb had set down his floating puffer with all possible speed—and great care—at the sight of the venerable elder, and made ample and readily accepted apologies to the perplexed animal in the form of scritches. 

Mace slowly put away his communicator. He pursed his lips. 

“Obi-Wan,” he said slowly, “next time, just have them practice making friends with the stray tookas.”

That’s how his master had done it, and Mace had never had any problems with connecting with animals, large and small. 

“Pufferpigs are much more even-tempered.”

It was all Mace could do not to facepalm. Giving up, he shot Obi-Wan one last dry look.

“Just do your damn paperwork.”

Obi-Wan watched him stride away, dignified and imposing. Of course, since he wasn’t exactly paying attention to his surroundings, with how focused he was on pretending he was above this whole situation, he didn’t notice Mari’s wayward puffer on a direct collision course with his legs. The poor creature, who hadn’t noticed Mace either, let out a terrified screech and promptly puffed. 

The entire courtyard froze, watching with fascination as the inflated pufferpig bounced twice and slowly rolled to a halt. It made a sorry little squeak.

Resignedly, Mace closed his eyes and set to work on gently calming down the pufferpig with the Force.

The children loudly cheered. 

[iamgonnagetyouback]

The second one is for Harry. I don’t have a plot for him tbh. Anything works…maybe something like James and lily are still alive and the reader is Sirius’ and Remus’ daughter (if you’re comfortable with that else she’s just Sirius’s daughter) and that her and Harry have feelings for each other but they make sure that their parents don’t know about this because they think they won’t approve but secretly Sirius and James have made a bet even before they were born that they’d end up dating.

Gonna sign off as - 👀

harry potter x black-lupin!reader where you both decide to come clean about your relationship only to realise the bets that were going on before you were even born

The morning started off innocently enough. You and Harry decided, with great trepidation and a little bit of sweaty-palmed hand-holding, that it was time to come clean to your parents. You’d spent months sneaking around, dodging suspicious looks and sharing whispered secrets under that big oak tree in the Potter backyard. But enough was enough. Today was the day.

At breakfast, you sit on one side of the table, gripping Harry’s hand under it like a lifeline. Across from you, James is mid-story, waving his coffee cup wildly, nearly splashing Sirius, who’s cackling in support. Remus stands by the stove flipping pancakes, while Lily is engrossed in her tea. It’s almost too peaceful. Almost.

You exchange a look with Harry, both of you gulping in unison. Here goes nothing.

You clear your throat, trying to sound calm and confident but ending up squeaking, “We have something to tell you.”

Every head swivels toward you. Four pairs of eyes lock on, and it’s like they’ve turned into your jury.

Sirius’s brows lift, eyes flicking to your joined hands, a smirk already forming. “Oh, this is going to be good.”

James takes a leisurely sip of his coffee, not even trying to hide his amusement. “Go on then, let’s hear it.”

“Uh… well, Harry and I…” You glance at him, wide-eyed. “We’re together. Dating. You know, in a relationship.”

Silence. Deafening, horrible silence. You brace yourself for the absolute chaos about to ensue—a dramatic gasp from Sirius, a whole speech from Remus, something. But instead…

“Oh, finally,” Remus sighs, flipping another pancake like he’s completely unfazed.

“Pay up, Padfoot.” James holds out a hand to Sirius with a smirk that could only mean one thing: they knew.

“Are you—are you betting on us?” Harry sputters, his face turning beet red.

Sirius lets out a long, overly dramatic sigh as he fishes out a handful of Galleons and plunks them into James’s waiting hand. “Yep. And I had my money on last Christmas, but nooo, you two had to make it as painful and drawn-out as possible.”

James shrugs, looking positively delighted. “I told him you two would take forever. I mean, you’re related to Sirius, for Merlin’s sake.”

“Oh, come on!” you snap, indignant. “You didn’t even wait for us to tell you?”

Sirius leans forward, smirking like he’s the world’s wisest sage. “Kid, you were about as subtle as a hippogriff in a teashop. ‘Oh, dad, we’re just going out to ‘study.’’” He air-quotes aggressively. “Or, ‘Oh, daddy, it’s so peaceful under the oak tree.’”

“Do you know how many times I nearly hexed you?” Remus says, shaking his head, clearly unimpressed. “Once or twice would’ve been fine, but the ‘study dates’? Please.”

Harry’s face falls into his hands, groaning. “So you… knew? This entire time?”

James snorts, leaning back with the air of someone who has been utterly vindicated. “Son, I’ve known since you looked at her like she’d personally invented Quidditch.” He raises a smug eyebrow at Lily. “Which, by the way, was second year.”

Lily laughs softly. “Second year, James? Don’t you think that’s a bit much?”

“Oh, not at all,” James replies with a flirty expression. “I’d know that look anywhere—it’s exactly how I used to look at you.”

You and Harry exchange an exasperated look. “So… none of you are upset?” you ask, bewildered.

Remus grins, nudging you both toward the table. “Not at all. In fact, this is excellent news because now I can finally use your time together as leverage for chores.”

Lily laughs, patting your shoulder with a wink. “Honestly, we were all just waiting to see how long you’d last before one of you cracked.”

Sirius, meanwhile, is dramatically clutching his chest. “I was holding out for the Christmas confession! So many prime opportunities wasted! I could have retired on those winnings!”

“Oh, get over it,” James says with a slap on his back. “We all saw it coming from a kilometer away.”

And as you and Harry sit there, faces hot with embarrassment and disbelief, the rest of them toast to the “official family binding,” clinking glasses and laughing like this is the best entertainment they’ve had in years.

thank you so much for requesting, 👀!! If it is no trouble, could you tell your age and gender?

[belokhvostikova]

𝐑𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐁𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐥𝐝

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 | With the seed planted, Operation Eddie Munson Must Die falls into plan, as—despite your dismay—a double date is secured with Winnie Ambrose, and Small-Town-Hottie Steve Harrington.

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | Swearing, tiniest mention of drugs, alcohol consumption, bits of arguing, insults, overall disrespectfulness, brief moment of a creep, mentions of past bullying, mentions of STDs, and explicit sexual content: oral (male receiving), cum eating, and protected vaginal sex.

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞 | Apologies in advance, I found that as I wrote it just kept getting shittier, and shittier. So if it's bad, I'm sorry, I don't know what I'm doing. Also desperately wanting to make Reader the villain, and have Eddie end up with a girlfriend... who knows :) Big thanks to these lovely anons (you, you, and you) for the plotline suggestions!

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 16.2K

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 | One. Two.

𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐬, 𝐃𝐨 𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭.

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐰𝐨: 𝐁𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐓𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐝𝐚𝐲

“God, I told you- I told you just how much of an asshole he was!” The front door shut with a slam, as Winnie’s handbag went flying to the couch in an adrenaline rage. 

Your bottom plopped alongside the discarded purse, where you made the rash endeavor to release your ankles from the tight imprisonment of strappy heels that left your feet sore beyond repair. “C’mon, Winnie, I knew since the first time he left you crying that he was an asshole.” 

With your fingers attempting to mitigate the soles of your feet, your tired eyes had a hard time keeping up with Winnie’s rampant pacing, as the concoction of a martini plus Eddie Munson had her on a buzzing thrill. 

“And you!” Her finger projected to you, tight hands coming to clutch onto your shoulders. “You were incredible! Waving him off, and whatnot! Truly, if it was me, I would have been in his bed by now!” Winnie violently shook your shoulders. “God, he was so desperate, a-and crazy- god, Y/N, you made Eddie Munson crazy!”

“Oh, please, c’mon, Win, Eddie’s not stupid.” You shoved her hands off. “You even said he does this to every girl-”

“Not chase them!” Winnie urged. “For the love of God, he ran into traffic! Eddie Munson doesn’t chase, we chase- I, embarrassingly enough, chased him! That’s his whole game, but you- he went after you!”

You exhaustedly sighed, shoving your fingertips into the skin of your temple. No matter how enthusiastic Winnie’s words came out, your rationale merely vindicated his motives as nothing but self-indulgent and the furthest thing from interest. “Winnie, what kind of girl doesn’t swoon over a big, really stupid gesture? Like I said, Eddie isn’t stupid.”

With a pop, Winnie sunk to her knees, reaching eye level, as her’s unsettlingly burned into yours. “Y/N, believe me, I know Eddie more than you do,” but you knew his type more than she did, “he wanted you. Hell, he’s probably thinking about you right now!”

“Oh, fuck, baby, feels so fucking good, pussy feels so fucking good.” Eddie Munson clinched his eyes closed, as his hips punctured each thrust with a sticky slap of wet skin. 

“Mm! Eddie! Please, don’t stop, ple-”

“Sh! Don’t talk, don’t fucking talk.” His voice grunted, as his heavy hand muffled Santina Rodrigo’s whines into the pillows of his bed. “Just let me fuck you- fuck this pretty pussy until you can’t speak.” The words rolled off his tongue like a studied script. 

If you weren’t going to be in his bed tonight, someone else surely was.

His thrust became harsher. Bumping into the ripple of her ass, as her back curved to the gluttony of her body that just wanted more, and more. Pounding breaths were ripping through his flared nostrils, with pellets of salty sweat bleeding into his mouth, as a firm bite to his lip kept his moans at bay. 

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum, baby. Eddie, I’m gonna-”

“Cream on my fucking cock, show me how good I’m fucking you. Scream it, sweetheart.” His stomach cramped with each fervent squelch of his dick ramming into her cunt.

You blinked. “You really think he’s thinking about me?” A shy smile unwarrantedly invaded your face. 

Winnie jumped with joy. “Yes! He totally is!” She squealed. “But don’t you dare let that get to your head.” Her hand suddenly came in contact with your forehead. 

“Ow!”

“That’s like strapping steak on your chest, and going into the lion’s den. If you’re not ready to fully face the charming wrath of Eddie Munson, you need to tell me now!” Christ, that accusatory finger was degrading you again with its vicious point. “Okay, you can’t fall for his shit!”

“I- no, n-no, I’m ready, like, so, totally ready.” Your face became stern under her glare. “Yeah, um, very much ready.” Your voice quieted. 

“Remember Y/N, it’s guys like Eddie that get girls to think they’re so datable.” Her eyes dragged to the back of her head. “Okay, all this ‘oh, you’re so special, I’m obsessed with you, I’d do anything for you’ is a little bullshit game that gets girls to fawn over him.” She mocked with such a guttural voice. 

“Fuck, you’re so perfect! Perfect just for me! Cum, baby, cum all over my fucking cock.” Eddie’s voice cracked through gritted teeth, as his hands painfully molded to the fat of her ass, squeezing until her skin was tender. 

“Yeah, baby? Fuck, I’m cumming! I’m- aughhh!” Santina mewled into the rumpled sheets that soaked with her perspiration. 

Eddie didn’t give her a minute to spare, as her scalp suddenly burned with the brutal grip of her hair in his hand. Her body nearly collapsed, as she trudged through the attempt of supporting herself on trembling legs, when Eddie forced her face to his body. The stretching of rubber slapped off his cock, as he haphazardly discarded the condom onto the expanse of the bedroom floor. 

“C’mon, baby, open up, lemme cum down that fucking throat.” Her head could barely confirm his request with a nod, before Eddie shoved his length down her airway, with a thick gag to harshly pair with his deep groans. 

Spit slung down the curve of her chin, doubling the stains that had previously bled themselves into his dirty sheets from a week of late night endeavors catered to different women, but always ended the same. 

And Santina Rodrigo was no fool, she was fully capable of grasping the reality of Eddie Munson. 

Which is why this night would end differently. 

“Yeah, I know, which is totally why this date isn’t happening.” You proclaimed. 

But Winnie Ambrose has other plans. “Oh, no, it totally is.”

“What?” You jumped from the couch. “What happened to the, y’know, ‘Eddie wants what he can’t have,’ going on a date with him is giving him exactly what he can’t have?”

Winnie sighed, a shake of disappointment came with the sympathetic look she burdened you with. “Oh, you poor, innocent thing.” Her manicured hand patronizingly caressed your head with pets. “Y/N…” her breath deepened, “…this is all a part of the plan!” She exclaimed. “Remember, you give and you take. Leading Eddie on will only grow his feelings, but never fully giving in will leave him wanting more! This is the basic principle of dating!”

“I don’t like this kind of dating.” 

“Well, it’s what’s gonna work! We have to take him down!” Her hands harshly dug into your shoulders, bulging eyes of crazy staring into your soul. “And we will not back down! Say it with me! We will not back down!”

“Our neighbors are going to think we’re crazy, Winnie.”

“C’mon!” She incited you. “We will not back down! Eddie Munson will come down!” Winnie Ambrose truly had to be drill sergeant in her past life. “We will not back down! Eddie Munson will come down-”

“-Your throat. F-Fuck, gonna cum down your throat. Just keep gaggin’ on my cock, baby.” Eddie held a tight grip to Santina’s head, her hair now in an irreparable state of dishevelment from his unyielding grip that gave him the leverage to pummel his cock down her constricting throat. 

With his balls tensing under the thick globs of spit that squelched his cock towards that buzzing bliss, Eddie suffocated Santina’s nose with the curls of his pubes, as his heavy grunts announced his orgasm, with streams of salty spurts invading her mouth. 

“Mm, fuck, yeah, better swallow that shit down, fuck.” He slowed his movements, until his cock pulled from between her raw lips, as her tongue lapped up the strings of saliva that clung to his dick. 

And here it came. Like clockwork.

“You okay, baby?” A caressing hand; pivotal for the illusion of caring. With his thumb gently stroking the breadth of her cheek, softly swiping the remanments of a blowjob from her lips, Santina Rodrigo melted into his touch. Next, words of affirmation. “Did so good for me, baby. Fuck, that was incredible.” Eddie Munson smiled. “Was that okay for you? Not too hard? You can tell me, sweetheart, want you comfortable, beautiful.” Something to flutter the heart, every person likes being cared for. And with a tired mouth too exhausted to confirm her contentment, Eddie went in for the kill. As Santina peered up at him with the roundest eyes to appeal to him, Eddie cemented this act of love with an intimate kiss on her gleaming forehead. 

It was quite profound, actually. 

Something about his large build hovering over, so easily chalked up to the roughness of man actually being vulnerable enough to express affection. It would have any girl swooning. 

Eddie Munson knew that, but more importantly, Santina Rodrigo knew that. 

So, as his back laid against the cushion of his pillows, his fingers reached for a cigarette to ease his mind of the inevitable downpour of cries that were about to be spewed his way. But the sudden movement beside him had his eyes connecting with hers, Santina. “Listen, sweetheart-”

“I’m off work Saturday.” With his sheets covering her once exposed breasts, she sat with her head held high, eyes unfaltering. 

“I-”

“I understand you put on the theatrics for your gain, but I don’t want it, unless you mean it.” Santina smiled. “Really mean it.” 

Eddie’s brows cinched to the center of his forehead, where his mind blanked at the unheard of bluntness from his—what was supposed to be—one night stand. “What are you getting at here, sweetheart?”

“I want a date on Saturday.” She asserted. “C’mon, you really think I would just let you fuck me, and move one?” Eddie’s face twisted with the laughter that smacked his face. “Grow up, Eddie. This act can’t last you forever.”

His thoughts were invaded with the tumultuous mix of unwanted astonishment that—as much as it pissed him off—sparked a little curiosity in his dazed mind. A laugh scoffed past his lips. “A date? Okay.” If it meant another easy fuck, who was he to give that up over a simple date. 

“And no bullshit, Eddie.” Santina affirmed. “If I’m going to be allowing you to fuck me, it’s just going to be me.”

Eddie laughed. “Hold on now, baby, this,” his finger maneuvered against the space between them, “has only been a one night thing, you can’t, um, you can’t expect me to just stick to one pretty girl, now, c’mon, sweetheart.” He proffered a sly smirk that had her rolling her eyes. 

“None of which will be as good as me.” Her confident stature had Eddie sucking in breath through his teeth-bitten lips. “And you’ll realize that quite quickly, but far too late for me to ever care for. So, Eddie, I suggest you clean yourself up nicely for this date. I don’t like anything cheap.” Stunned, he watched her naked body emerge from his sheets, as she quietly gathered her clothes. Her hand found itself wrapped around Eddie’s chin, nails digging into his skin to keep him face-to-face. “If I were you, I’d reconsider this whole ‘noncommittal’ act you like to screw girls over with.” She smiled, soft breaths against his lips. “I’m different Eddie, and you’re going to respect that. Goodbye.” Santina brandished her lip gloss to his lips with a wet kiss, before her heels clicked their way out of his apartment. 

Eddie Munson blinked, screwing his eyes closed, as he scoffed in disbelief. “What the fuck?” 

“Alright, alright, we’ll take Eddie Munson down.” You shoved your hand over Winnie’s mouth to quiet her voice, only for her muffled squeals of excitement to bleed through. 

“Okay, okay!” She jumped with adrenaline, a bright smile to pair. “We have to be methodical, Y/N. Simply going on the date with Eddie isn’t going to cut it. We have to make sure you’re the only one dating Eddie. He’s never gonna take this seriously, if he’s still seeing other women. We have to cut off the source.”

“The source?”

“The source that makes Eddie Munson so dateable!” She huffed so obviously. “We have to make Eddie undateable.”

“Right, make the tall guy with nice hair, who plays lead guitar of his own band, and just so happens to be known as the man who can make any girl finish undateable. Yeah, that seems totally plausible.” You deadpanned.

Winnie Ambrose sighed. “When will you learn to never underestimate me?”

Next day by brunch, on a sunny Sunday afternoon, Winnie found herself sipping on one too many mimosas, and with the boredom of her lonesome company and the once baby blue polish that was mindlessly chipped to nothing, her endeavors brought her the social setting of Marie Ann’s Nail and Spa. “He gave you what now?!” Suddenly, the nail tech was hesitant to touch Winnie’s fingers.

“Mhm.” Winnie solemnly nodded, as the other women amongst her gasped. “At first, I thought it was just regular discharge, but then it just got worse, and worse!” She dramatically exclaimed. “And then suddenly, I was in pain, it hurt to pee, and I was getting these awful fevers.” Her acting twisted the faces of the fellow patrons to concern. “So, I did what any girl would do, and I went to the doctor, and what do you know it: the clap!”

“And Eddie Munson gave it to you?” Shirley Brinkle, with her toes soaking in the warm water of her chair, massage setting on, interrogated with her manicured hand clutching her necklace. 

“Yup! I mean, he was the only one I’ve ever been with.” Quite the act. “And it checks out, y’know, with all the girls he’s been with, and whatnot.” Winnie fought to hold back a smile, as the ladies around her nodded in agreement. “So, I’m warning you. Do not get with Eddie Munson. He’s, like, a total walking biohazard.”

And it had worked… for some time. With how notorious the playboy had been, word spread quickly through groups of girlfriends who once gossiped about the sheer size of his cock, now having hushed conversations to stay clear of said cock. So, that evening, when Eddie had found himself in flirtations with the lady at the gym, who just looked too good in her gymwear to pass up, his confidence faltered at her sudden departure, when her friend stared him in his eyes, and whispered to her friends. Like, so motion, Eddie heard the quiet word slip from her mouth, “gonorrhea.” Panic.

But rule number one in warfare: never underestimate your opponent.

That Monday to come, Winnie dragged herself through the streets of Indianapolis to clock in her hours at work, though when passing the empty bar that saw its busiest attendance on the particular Saturday nights Corroded Coffin would perform, her body halted. Retaking her steps back, her sunglasses raised, eyes squinting to see if she was really seeing what she was seeing.

Posted on the window, “END THE STIGMA: Let’s talk about gonorrhea.” Eddie and his stupid face plastered on a poster was enough to make Winnie scoff. “Saturday night STD fundraiser! Live show included, here at The Albatross!”

“That conniving, little bitch!” And, of course…

“While an advocate, I, Eddie Munson, do not have gonorrhea or any sexually transmitted diseases.”

And just to rub some salt into the wound, “So sweet, isn’t he?” A stranger—a pretty one at it, too—voiced her admiration to Winnie, as they gazed upon the poster. “He’s, like, the only guy I know who would care about a cause.” 

Damn it, the bar was in hell.

But while Eddie Munson may have gotten the upper hand in this round, he and his confidence in his system of juggling girls could not anticipate the events of Black Tuesday.

-

On Tuesdays like such, customers found little time to meander in the relaxation of the coffeehouse, as midweek work obligations called for the swift in-and-out transaction. 

You quite like Tuesdays like such. 

When little visitors frequented, your boss would tune up the small radio that allowed soft music to linger about, where it once would be drowned under the cacophony of shouting patrons, who took to vividly expressing their lives in conversations.

Spurt. Spurt. You hummed to the voice of Billy Joel, as the fragranced cleaner invaded your noise with lemony pinewood, providing that sleek gloss to the wooden table tops, as your damp rag smeared across the perimeter. Too ingrained with mimicking the tunes of “Vienna,” you hadn’t paid much mind to the chime of the door bell, simply throwing out the usual, “I’ll be with you in a minute,” as you continued the task of swiping away leftover crumbs of pastries that accompanied the light splatters of spilled coffee. 

But turning on your feet to reach the register fell short, when you were suddenly face-to-face with Eddie Munson. “You’re quite hard to get a hold of… Y/N.” Ever so slightly, the sardonic tone of his voice curled his lips upward. 

With a lump caught in your throat, you made the rash decision to merely walk away to the counter, screwing your eyes shut at the sound of following footsteps that stomped behind you. You cleared your throat. “What can I get you?” 

“A date.” He nonchalantly nodded. “As you agreed.” 

“Uh, no, I di-”

“Y’know, after asking you out, I came by Sunday to make plans for our date.” He interjected, as your eyebrows shot into the creases of your forehead. 

“Didn’t work Sunday.” You blunted provided.

Eddie hissed, shaking his head. “Yeah, much to my disappointment.” His hand came up scratching the shavened skin of his cheek. “Though, also kinda lucky.” He laughed off, leaning in close. “Had some mess to deal with, all fixed now, so if you hear otherwise, it’s a lie.”

Oh, Winnie.

You suppressed the bulging of your eyes, and waved off his attempt at a conversation. “What do you want, Eddie?”

“I already told you: my date.” 

“Can’t. Busy.” You turned your back to wipe off the counters that you had already cleaned before his arrival, though luckily, he didn’t know that. 

“Alright, so I’ll accommodate. When do you get off?” With his forearms against the counter, his biceps bulged against his constricting arm sleeves, and maybe, just maybe, Eddie tensed his arms to let those veins pop, as you faced him again.

Annoyance was beginning to bubble in your chest. With what few customers did visit, all seemed to have a stick up their ass with their disrespectful attitude towards you, and you weren’t exactly keen to play into Eddie’s games. “Look, you forcing me to say yes to date, because you did something absolutely stupid is not me actually wanting you, okay? So, unless you’re going to order something, I’m gonna have to ask you to leave.”

Eddie propped to his extended height. “Hey, alright, look, you’re right, I’m sorry.” His ringed hands landed on his chest. “That was real stupid of me, but I meant what I said Saturday, I do have this funny, little feeling that you’re special, so can you really blame a guy?” You wanted to slap that smile off his face. You probably wouldn’t even be able to count how many times that one liner was used on other women, and your face showed it with the scowl that took over. “Alright, so you can blame me.” He laughed. 

“Get out.”

“Hey, no, I’d like a latte, please. My usual, c’mon, Y/N, you know my usual.” Ugh, you did know his usual. 

“It’ll be $5.” 

A scoff chuckled out from his mouth. “What? It’s usually $3.10.”

“Not today.” 

Eddie laughed in disbelief, as he reached for his wallet, slapping two $5 bills onto the counter, and sliding them over. “The extra five is for you, feeling generous.” He cockily shrugged. Degrading and patronizing? To hell with it, you were a service worker, of course, you took the tip. You once again turned, given another distraction of actually concocting his order to find reason not to entertain him. “Think the universe is in my favor, no? Came in Sunday, you weren’t here. Came in Monday… you weren’t here. Why was that anyway?”

“Had class. Got the night shift.” 

“Ah, so you go to university. See, look at us, we could be getting to know each other just like this, but on a date.” You despised the soft laughter that echoed through your nose, something Eddie surely had picked up on with the large smile that took over his face. “But then y’know what? Came in on this fine Tuesday, and what d'ya know? Third times a charm, here you are.” 

“Unfortunately.”

Eddie laughed. “Oh, you’re funny.” Oh, Christ, you were smiling. Thank god your back was turned. “You like the movies, got a favorite film.”

“Hate them, actually.”

“Alright, well, what about dinner?” Eddie proffered. “Got a nice restaurant in mind, could order you some nice steak, ooh, the lobster is always incredible. 

“Don’t eat meat. It’s disgusting.” You lied.

Eddie rolled his eyes. “C’mon, Y/N, sweetheart, you gotta work with me here.”

“I quite literally don’t.” You slid over the plastic cup of coffee. Winnie would be so proud of you. 

“Ooh,” he hissed, “I actually wanted this for here.” Eddie matched your movement, sliding back the latte, as his eyes never left yours. 

You sighed, shrugging your shoulders to match his considerably cool apathy, when in reality you were ready to hurl your guts over the mortifying experience of having to talk to a guy like him. “Well, you should have specified that. Too late now.” You shoved the cup back. 

Eddie smiled that sickly grin, leaning in close enough to have you cowering below him. But your eyes stayed staunch to the confidence you were trying to exude, never forfeiting the staring contest he forced you into. “C’mon, just tell me what I gotta do to get you on a little date with me. What’s it gonna take?” His head tilted with that devious smirk. 

“Well, maybe…” you sincerely sighed, “...if you would just leave.” You round eyes peered up at him.

A guttural laugh bubbled in his chest, as he blushed down with a suppressed smile. “I’m being serious.”

“And who says I’m not?” You smiled back. 

“Alright, look, it’ll all be on your terms. Your wish is my command. Anything you want.” Eddie laid his cards out flat on the table. 

You swallowed thickly, regulating yourself through the heavy breathing of a long sigh that escaped from you. Realistically, being one-on-one with someone like Eddie was a set up for disaster. As embarrassing as it is to admit, you’d only survive this far with the words of Winnie Ambrose playing into your ear, coaching you through the complexity that is Eddie Munson. You give and you take, and so far, the easiest thing was taking away, and even that had your stomach twisting with the gruesomeness of anxiety that left your mind on overdrive with intrusive thoughts. 

What did Eddie Munson think of you? How much of an embarrassment would you make out of yourself suddenly falling into his trap? No, you were better than that. This wasn’t going to be another Dalton Barron moment- ugh, Christ, you don’t even want to think about him. Okay, so you learned from your mistake, it won’t happen again, just don’t trust Eddie Munson. Yeah, don’t trust Eddie Munson. Surely, anyone would agree with you on that one. But what if not trusting him puts him off? What if that’s what drives him away, and Winnie’s plan ultimately fails, because of yo-

“C’mon, Y/N, I think you’re gettin’ a little too into your head here.” He swayed in his stance. Your face frowned, clearly not appreciative of how easily he read that. 

“I don’t- I just don’t want to go on a date with you.” You softly answered, watching his head drop in defeat. “At least, not alone.” He slowly peered back up in interest. 

Eddie nodded to your suggestion. Was it ideal? Definitely not, it’d be quite difficult making the moves on you with people around. But if it meant getting you out with him… “I got a friend.” His fingers snapped at the sudden revelation that hit him. 

“A friend?”

“Yup.” His lips popped with emphasis. “Pretty good looking guy, y’know, nice hair n’ all. Family’s loaded, too, he’s working at the law firm his dad owns back in my hometown.”

“You’re not from here?” You questioned.

Eddie smiled. “See, you’re totally interested in gettin’ to know me.” He teased an eye roll out of you. “But, no, to answer your question, I’m not. Hawkins, in fact. Pretty small town about forty minutes out north west from Indy. A little shitty- well, actually, a lot shitty,” Eddie chuckled, “but it’s quiet at night, which I’ve always liked. So, if it’ll make you a bit more comfortable,” he leaned over, “why don’t you and that roommate of yours come out to Hawkins to hang out with me and my buddy.”

Your eyes softened at the request, as your heartbeat slowly dissipated to the calm rhythm it once was pumping at, before Eddie ruined that for you. “You- you’d be okay with Winnie coming?”

“No.” He laughed. “In fact, I think bringing an old hookup—who just so happens to hate my guts—to a double date sounds absolutely miserable, but I’m willing to be miserable if it means getting to be with you.” No salacious smirk this time, spoken matter-a-factly even, which somehow felt more unsettling. “Hopefully Steve can entertain your friend enough for me.” Eddie shrugged. 

“Steve?”

“Harrington.” He finished off for you. “Quite the ladies man, in fact, so I’m sure he’ll have no problem agreeing to this.” Then, Eddie whispered close. “Let’s just hope he doesn’t steal you off of me.” He winked, before grabbing his drink to take a couple steps back. “You get off by, I don’t know, five?” You couldn’t even fathom words at the moment, only meeting him with a small nod that mindlessly controlled itself. “Perfect, then let’s say about eight. Real casual, nothing too crazy. The Hideout, it’s a little bar. In Hawkins. My treat.” He smiled. “Have a nice day… Y/N.”

Eddie Munson had become quite obsessed with saying your name. 

-

“Steve Harrington? Sounds like some boy-next-door sitcom name.” Winnie laughed, as her mouth crunched down on the handful of chips that stuffed themselves down her mouth. 

“Eddie said he was really good looking, though.” You sat by her propped feet on the coffee table. “And- and, he’s in the whole lawyer business thing.” You offered. 

“He’s a lawyer?” Winnie’s interest piqued at the sudden monetary value of Steve Harrington. 

“Well, Eddie said he worked at a law firm, not entirely sure what he does, but you could totally find out if you go, please, pretty please.” You begged. “Don’t let me go by myself, you know I won’t be able to handle it, I’ll probably panic and say something stupid, and this whole plan will come crashing-”

“Okay, okay.” Winnie gave in, folding over the plastic of her chip bag, as she rid herself the crumbs that stuck around her mouth. “You know what? You’re right, we have to get this date going.” She urgently stood. “We have to go all out. What are we thinking? Skirt? Maybe a dress? Ooh, I’ve been meaning to bust out my new Vivienne Westwoods-”

“Wait, no, Eddie said this was supposed to be casual.” You stopped her. “Just some bar, I think by the sounds of it, in his hometown.”

“Eddie’s bringing you to his hometown?!” Winnie halted, face contorting into the dozen creases of dumbfoundedness. “What the hell?! The first time I got with him, I asked for his last name, and he told me not to push it. Had to hear it from some other girl he was screwing. Holy shit, Eddie Munson’s whipped for you!”

“What? N-No, he’s not.” You tried appeasing her shock. “It’s just like a convenience thing, y’know? For his friend, I assume.”

Winnie laughed in disbelief, shaking her head to dispute your claims. “Oh, this plan is so going to work!” She cheered. “C’mon, we have a first date to ruin!”

By 5:45 P.M, your bathroom steamed with the hotness of condensation, as the aromas of scented body washes and lotions clung to your body. Unlike the preparations of Saturday night, ‘dressing casually’ proved difficult for Winnie, who opted to rummage through your closet. “Ugh, don’t you have anything lacey?”

“Is lacey really casual?” You wondered, as you hopped into your shorts with a shimmy to get them from around your ass.

“It is to me.” Winnie whined, flinging articles of clothing you knew she’d never clean up. 

“What about my maxi skirt right there?” You proffered.

Winnie examined the layered sheer material. It was a sage green. She quite liked green with her auburn hair. “It’s not too hot for this?” She hesitantly questioned.

“Totally not! Enough flow for some airway.” You sold. “Plus, pretty easy to slip off for Mr. Lawyer.” You teased, at least something funny enough to get her to smile.

“Oh, I shouldn’t- well…” You laughed at her contemplation, as you both fell comfortably in the pile of clothes in your disorganized bedroom. “Maybe if he’s, like, really hot. Like, River Phoenix hot. Ooh, that means I should definitely wear my push-up bra, wherever the hell it went.” You dug for a thin sweater to throw on. “No, but wait, would that make a slut?” You laughed at her question. “Like, royal slut for sleeping with two friends?

“Who cares, Win. Have your fun.” You offered in return, watching her shoulders relax. “Eddie’s doing it, anyway. Why can’t you?”

Winnie gasped. “You would sleep with Eddie Munson?!”

Your mouth fell open. “W-What? No, I didn’t say that, like, a-at all. I just- I meant dating.”

“Okay, but would you?” Winnie teased, poking at your belly to rile you up.

Your mind blanked, mouth falling dry through your stutters. “N-No, I don’t even like him like that. You- it’s you making me do this, remember?” You defended. “I wouldn’t have even talked to him if it wasn’t for this idea.” It’d be best if Winnie Ambrose never learned the identity of your mysterious coffeehouse crush that was discovered to be Eddie Munson. Even then, all those barely there, absolutely not deep, totally juvenile feelings vanished when learned that not only had he been sleeping with your best friend, but apparently all of Indianapolis. 

“Well,” Winnie sighed, trusting your word, “you’re stronger than most. Which honestly, is the only thing keeping this plan working, because let’s be honest here, Eddie is going to try to sleep with you sooner or later.” Your stomach churned. “But, remember we can’t let that happen. Best way to go about it is to be, y’know, calm and collected. Brush him off effortlessly.”

“Okay, calm and collected. Like I don’t care. Just be indifferent.” You detail your understanding. 

“Exactly, but don’t totally wave him off! The only thing reeling him in is your slight interest.” You felt like your head was about to explode. “So, just take notes and remember to be caring and passionate. He’s gotta know you’re feeling something, y’know?” No, you don’t know. “But then,” oh, Christ, “you gotta learn when to hit back, okay? Eddie’s an asshole. You know that, I know that, everyone knows that. And that filthy mouth of his is bound to say something gross to get a reaction out of you. So, stand your ground, be proud and aggressive. He’ll easily walk all over you if you’re meek.”

“Okay, well, I rejected him, now I’m going on a date with him, so he thinks I’m “interested,” I just don’t know what to do next.” You frowned in frustration. “This is all a lot, y’know?”

“C’mon, you’ve dated before-”

“Yeah. Though, it was only one, singular, y’know… Dalton.” You groaned, pressing the heels of your palms into your eye sockets to suppress the memories that were trying to hash out that anger for the closure you never got. 

“Exactly!” Winnie snapped with emphasis. “You’ve been down this road before, you know what to expect. And people like Eddie and Dalton need to pay up for what they’ve done! So, don’t strike yourself out, we are women! We are feminists! This is for feminism!”

You huffed out a sardonic chuckle. “I don’t think that’s what feminism means, Winnie.”

“Okay, well, we’re both young women, who are hot as shit, and are not going to let some gross dudes ruin us!” She declared. “So, when you go on this date, you play it aloof. Don’t give him everything, but give him enough.”

“Like what?”

“Like, if he compliments you, don’t shy away, you take it!” She explained. “Oh, and the three seconds rule! You wait three seconds to answer him when you’re talking.”

“Doesn’t that seem a little redundant?” You brows cinched in question. 

“No, it totally works for me!” She protested.

“Winnie,” you sympathetically sighed, “you don’t have a boyfriend.”

“Ugh, look, if I wanted to keep them around, I would, because that three seconds rule works! Makes me look cool, Y/N.” Winnie sassed in protest. Before you could retaliate a teasing comment to her skewed views of dating, a knock at the front door had cut your conversation short. “I’ll get it.” Winnie huffed, throwing your maxi skirt in the mountaining pile of clothes, before heading out. While you could, your shirt had shimmied itself off your body to find comfort in a sweater that would suffice for the whole ‘I don’t care’ look you hoped to exude with this forced upon date. Suddenly, Winnie’s feet could be heard shuffling as quickly as possible back to your room. “Fucking flowers?!”

“What?” You questioned, as you fixed your hair from the mess that de-clothing caused. 

In the crinkle of brown tissue paper and twine, a dozen stems of pastel tulips stood lively in Winnie’s hands. “He went full Netherlands on you!”

“Eddie?!” Your brows jumped in perplexion. 

Winnie scoffed in disbelief. “Who else would be E. Munson?!” She pulled out the small envelope that propped itself within the tangle of flowers. You stood from the floor, grabbing the pretty bouquet, as Winnie shuffled to slide the card from the paper encasing. “Ugh, ugh,” she cleared her throat. “To ease your mind, something as pretty as you, Y/N. Let me do things properly, give me a call to pick you up: three, one, seven, blah, blah, blah. Gag.” Winnie rolled her eyes. “Sending you flowers, while taking you to some dingy bar, how chivalrous.” 

“W-Wait a minute,” you snatched the card from her hand, “what? Am I supposed to ride with him now?” Your finger skimmed over the felt-tip pen that bled Eddie’s number to the cardstock of the note.

“No.” Winnie snatched the card, ripping it in half.

“Uh- Winnie! This was actually a little sweet, c’mon.”

“Remember, we’re playing this cool!” She urged. “You already agreed to this date, you can’t feed him more. You’re not accepting any of this- well, keep the flowers, they’d look quite nice on our mantel. But don’t call him, okay? We can drive ourselves. And, like, what the hell? Did he just expect me to tow behind? He, like, totally didn’t think of me at all.” Your brow slowly lifted at her. “Alright, alright, I’ll shut up about myself.”

-

Through the static voices of Skid Row over the radio, you turned about the creased map every which way, trying to read the barely eligible highways with their too tiny of a font names. “Oh, okay, it’s Exit 13A.”

“How far away is it?” Winnie held the steering wheel under a tight grip.

“Um,” you peered up. “it’s right there! Winnie, right lane! Go to the-”

“I’m trying! This slow bastard isn’t moving!” She screamed.

You reached over the console. “Your blinkers!” A quick flip to the handle clicked on the indicators. “They won’t know unless your blinkers are on!”

Meanwhile, Eddie’s foot had anxiously tapped to the ticks of the clock, as his thumb nail was facing the repercussion of his nervous gnawing. 

Where the hell were you? It was nearing a quarter to eight, and your expected phone call hadn’t come by. No bounce of his knee, no hand through his hair, no pacing around could ease the nerves that pissed him off, because he so ardently waited for your call. He stood from his couch, quickly making his way to the phone, but no matter how desperate that itch was telling him to call instead, it all fell into a lost cause, as Eddie didn’t know your number. Eddie didn't know Winnie’s number. Hell, Eddie didn’t know any woman’s number. They called. Not him. Never him. Well, he could go over to your apartment- no, that was on another level of desperation that Eddie felt was too pathetic to ever let his pride commit to. 

“Augh,” he groaned in annoyance, as those anxious nerves were beginning to be taken over by anger. “What a bitc- mm.” He restrained himself with a gruff. “What am I- what am I doing waiting around? Fuck this, I’ll get someone else.” Eddie raged under his breath, as he snatched his jacket, and stomped his way out of the apartment. 

Your eyes followed along the passing trees, as the prussian blue of nighttime was beginning to feed into the amber glow of the leaving sunset. Hawkins had been nothing but a straight highway of nonbeing, as Eddie’s words came into existence: it was quiet at night. Rocks skipped under the fast turning wheels of the car, as you approached the faded sign welcoming you into the solitude of Hawkins, Indiana. When rows of woodlands finally ended, you were met with the expanse of cornfields. 

“So…” Winnie dragged out. “How exactly are we supposed to find this bar?” She questioned, as her eyes fell on the long road ahead. “Maybe we should have taken up Eddie’s offer.” You shot her a look of disbelief. “Okay, I’m kidding, I’m kidding, but seriously.”

“Eddie said it was a small town, so I’m sure it won’t take too long. Just look out for bar, preferably with any sign at says ‘The Hideout.’” 

“The Hideout… The Hideout.” She ticked, as she drove wherever the roads guided her. 

Through the unintentional exploration of the suburbs and downtown areas, your destination was found through the environs north front of abandoned diners, lonesome laundromats, and a dilapidated trailer park where rusted car parts littered the dead grass against man made driveways. 

The neon sign buzzed through its draining power. “Some first date.” Winnie groaned, taking in the foundation of stained bricks. 

You shrugged with the bit of optimism you were clawing to hold on to. “M-Maybe it’s quaint.”

“Yeah, for a bunch of hillbilly, old dudes with beer bellies.” She grouched, as her legs dragged her out of the car. You swiftly followed, choosing to subtly cower behind her, as you both loitered the makeshift parking lot of what was just tire tracks and haphazard parking. “These guys better be here already.” Winnie rolled her eyes. Nothing but the running engine of a burgundy Bimmer buzzed through the chilled atmosphere.

And it hadn’t been until the engine was keyed off, with a figure slamming the door shut, that it finally caught your attention. “Hey, hey, wait, you think that’s Steve?” Your hand repeatedly smacked against Winnie’s arms.

Winnie squinted her eyes through the dark. Well, he did have the hair. Great hair, in fact. Totally walked like he could be some wannabe lawyer, especially with the white button-up he adorned; too fancy for a place like such. Could definitely see him being casted as the boy-next-door. And woah, was he pretty. Like, ridiculously pretty. “It better be Steve, fuck me.” Her glossed lips fell open. 

“O-Okay, so, we just, like, ask him-”

“Ayo, Steve!” Winnie’s deepened voice boomed to the likeness of a man, before harshly turning around to avoid being caught. 

“Oh, my god.” You quietly sighed to yourself in embarrassment, as Winnie’s efforts clearly fell short of subtlety, and the now identified Steve Harrington was looking right over. 

Winnie stood stiff, as if to appear invisible. “Well, did he look up?” 

“Yes, he looked up.” You deadpanned. “And right at us, in fact, because that was awful.” An incredulous chuckle scoffed out of you. 

“Aw, great, he probably thinks I sound like a chain smoker now.” She groaned, as you both awkwardly shuffled to his direction. 

He proffered such a boyish smile with a small wave to greet you both, before his arms crossed over his chest, hands tucking under his armpits. “Hey, uh, sorry, this is a bit confusing, you’re here to hang out with Ed and I?” He questioned with a small smile.

“Yeah, yeah.” You softly answered. “I’m Y/N.” You introduced yourself. 

Steve flashed you a warm smile, before pointing a curious finger beside you. “Ah, so you’re mine tonight?” He asked for clarification to Winnie, who blushed under his suaveness. 

“Oh, yeah, I’ll be yours any night.” She mindlessly responded, luckily rifting that first-meet-up awkward tension that now dissipated into sincere laughter.   

“Alright then,” Steve’s cheeks plumped under his growing smile. “Wendy, right?”

Winnie rolled her eyes. “That bastard, it’s Winnie.” She beamed.

“Winnie, got it, I apologize.” Steve offered, as she shyly waved him off, truly enamored through her school girl-like crush. “Well, uh, like I was saying, I am a bit confused, ‘cause Eddie had kinda told me you guys bailed on us.”

“What?” You mused over his words in confusion. 

Steve shook his head. “Yeah, I’m not sure, something about you not calling, or just basically canceling, I guess.” You and Winnie slowly looked at one another. “I don’t know, he called me before I clocked off work, but after a shift with my dad,” an airy laugh breathed out of him, “figured I could still go for a drink. So, sorry if I’m a little overdressed.” His hands panned over his suited body. “Yeah, so, I’m assuming some lines of communication got lost. You guys definitely didn’t cancel, right?” 

“No, we were trying to be feminists.” You sarcastically lilted. 

“Right, right.” Steve laughed along. “Well, uh, since this double date is definitely not canceled, why don’t we all head inside? I’ll call up Eddie, see if he picks up, and if not… well, I surely don’t mind taking out two pretty girls, so my treat.”

“Oh, yeah, I’m definitely keeping him.” Winnie whispered into your ear.

Where mandatory I.D checks made up The Albatross, it surely lacked at The Hideout, as nothing but spotted glass door—dirtied by a litter of sticky fingerprints—had fallen easily open to welcome any patron who chose to drown their stress with a bitter bottle of beer. Whatever Top 100 Hits Winnie had been used to listening to during her bar endeavors had been switched to bare the brunt of country rock, as older men and women spaced themselves accordingly, rather than the practical dry humping The Albatross was regularly accustomed to. 

Steve Harrington, the soon to be discovered paralegal, had situated you both to a lonesome table surrounded by four stools, where you received the chance to gaze about the rustic decor of American flags and sports jerseys that complimented the dusty deer head that hung against the dark wood. “Hey, so, you guys have any drink preferences?” His head gestured to the bar. 

“Two beers will be fine.” Winnie’s chipper voice answered, as you nodded in agreement. 

“Perfect, I’ll head up to get our drinks, and see if I can give Eddie a call.” Winnie froze under his innocent hand that landed on her shoulder, before Steve sauntered off. 

“Oh, Christ, I’m gonna marry him.” Winnie groaned into her hands. 

You giggled at her unease. “It’s barely been five minutes.”

“But it’s been a good five minutes.” She protested in defense. 

“Okay, so, um, while you get to enjoy your time with Steve, I mean, what should I do about Eddie?” You talked in hushed whispers, as subtle glances to the bar showed Steve in casual conversation with the bartender. “Like, what if he does come, y’know, he’s gonna be pissed? O-Or, uh, if he doesn’t show, does that mean he’s no longer interested?”

“Okay, shh.” Winnie interrupted your panicked speech. “Look, alright, we kinda did screw over Eddie, but, I mean, who were we to know he thought that was us canceling. If anything, we deserve the right to piss him off, especially me.” She scoffed. “That ‘Wendy’ bullcrap. What, do I look like some freckled, red-head child with braids slapped on some burger wrapper?”

You peered back at the revelation. “Oh, my god, wait, with your hair, you do kinda look like-”

“Shh, lalala, I’m hearing it, that wasn’t the point!” You wiped off the spit that flung from her harsh whispers. “Circling back,” her lips emphasized, “Eddie’s going to come, okay? He’s like every other dude, alright, they can’t take rejection, always have to bother you as to why you don’t want them. So, he’s going to come, and when he does, you have to stand your ground. Alright, no apologizing, no feeling bad, no ‘oh, let me make it up to you.’” She mocked her damsel-in-distress voice. “You better give him the cold shoulder. Anger is still very much an emotion, and if he’s angry that means he cares. It means he has feelings, feelings which you hurt! Like. A. Bad. Ass.”

You chuckled incredulously. “Don’t really think being mean makes me a badass-”

“It does in the case of Eddie Munson, alright?” Winnie cemented. “Clearly, people haven’t been mean enough to him.”

Steve Harrington had given Roger, the bartender, the grace to prioritize the other patrons on their refills, after opening his tab to the orders of you, Winnie, and him—alongside an additional order of generic greasy food—as a phone call to Eddie Munson was surely to last a bit more than a quick ‘hello.’ After gaining permission to use the establishment’s phone, Steve had propped himself against the wall of the back storage room, with the ringing, red phone against his ear.

Perhaps Eddie Munson was trying to overcompensate for the bruised ego caused by your rejection, as he resulted in swallowing the mouth of Jenny Albridge in the center of his living room couch. And I mean really swallowing. Their lips smacked hungrily with too much saliva, forcing Eddie to endure it if it mean fucking his frustrations out. 

And poor Jenny, while she’s heard of the eighth wonder Eddie had added to the world from underneath his pants, she hadn’t actually been with him. It just so happened to be faith that their shoulders collided, while she left her evening pilates class. And hell, after an intense, sweaty workout, she wanted another—albeit slightly different—intense, sweaty workout, especially after the numerous five star ratings. 

Though, maybe she’d just caught him on a bad day. Like, a really, really bad day. But maybe she was supposed to like it? The whole aggressive, teeth clashing, tongue invading, spit drenching make out that would hopefully finally lead to the good part. There was going to be a good part, right?

Ring, ring, ring, ring…

Oh, thank god, Eddie thought, as he finally had an excuse to detach from her lips, giving Jenny the go ahead to catch her breath with a deep gasp of air. He shifted quickly from the couch, walking to the phone, pulling it abruptly to stop the incessant shrilling. “Hello?”

“Ed, man.” Steve stood straight. “Hope you know the girls are here.” He snickered into the phone. 

“Girls?” Eddie wiped the spit from his lips. “What gi-” The revelation backhanded him in the face, as his mouth stooped low with confusion. “What? No, they canceled!”

“I think that’s what they had you thinking, but really they just drove themselves. And now, I’ve just ordered them beers and some food, so unless you’re giving me the grace to talk up your girl and her friend, I’d suggest you come down here as quick as possible.” Steve laughed. 

While he may have lived a couple towns over from the big city, Steve Harrington was no stranger to the name Eddie had given himself in Indianapolis, as periodic visits would consist of his friend recounting the newfound experience he gained with women, to eventually being one another’s wingman. 

In fact, Steve regularly joked about Eddie ‘decrowning’ him as king, as he now flaunted the hookup culture he, so very actively, participated in, thanks to the “bell bottom hippies, who were so desperately horny, they made it a movement.” His words, definitely not any history books’ words. 

“They’re fucking there?! Are you- ugh!” His fingers shoved into his eyes in frustration. “I fucking sent her flowers with the number, and everyth-”

“Woah, you sent her flowers?” Steve interrupted with shock. “Since when do you ever send flowers?”

“I don’t know! This girl is pissing me off, I- I’ll be there, alright!” Jenny Albridge scrunched her face in heavy judgment. “J-Just make sure she doesn’t- I mean, them. Make sure they don't leave!”

Steve chuckled at the stutter of his voice. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep them entertained.” He laughed. 

Eddie scoffed. “I’m serious, Harrington, no funny business! She already thinks I’m some asshole, and her friend is probably feeding her some more bullshit about how terrible I am.”

Steve playfully rolled his eyes, as he recalled the panicked phone call that transpired a couple hours prior, with Eddie imploring him to agree to a blind double date. Something about fucking some girl, but now wanting said girl’s friend, but said girl’s friend doesn’t want him, because said girl told her friend about him fucking other girls. Whatever it was, it was a big, jumbled mess, and Steve wondered why Eddie ever involved himself in the first place. Though, apparently, it was important enough if Eddie had to send you flowers. “Well, you did kinda screw over Winnie-” 

“Okay, that's not the point!” Eddie spat out in a rush. Maybe it was how alike Winnie Ambrose and Eddie Munson had been that repelled them so harshly from one another. Jenny Albridge was quietly shuffling on her shoes. “Look, I-” He took a deep breath, regulating himself. “I’ll be there. While I’m not going to force you to do anything, it would be greatly appreciated if you helped a friend out, and talked me up.”

“Alright, alright.” Steve agreed. “Just hurry up, I highly doubt you cruising around is gonna better any impression this girl’s already got for you.” With that, Steve cut off any response Eddie had prepared with the buzzing of a dead line, as he hung up the phone. 

Eddie sighed, running his hand through his hair. Turning around, he flinched at the sight of an awkwardly smiling Jenny, as he’d genuinely forgotten about her presence amidst the phone call. Both blinked back-in-forth to one another; a mutual consensus silently understood.

“Yeah, you need to leave.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice.”

-

A basket of chicken tenders and fries had interrupted your conversation short, as they were placed against the table, with Steve arriving with his hand clinging to the necks of three beer bottles, each tucked between the space of his fingers. “Sorry, I know it’s not Michelin Star-esque, but it’s the best this bar’s got, so hopefully it’s enough to satiate any hunger.” He smiled. Steve was hit with an influx of ‘thank you’s’ from the both of you, as the stationary centerpiece of condiments were beginning to fill up the tiny containers that came with the meal. “Oh, and Ed’s on his way, as well.”

“He’s coming?” You questioned.

“Yeah, yeah, told him to come as quick as possible.” Steve answered, as he took his seat next to Winnie. 

Winnie squirted an aggressive amount of ketchup onto her tray, leaving Steve to smile at her antics. “Wait, did he sound mad over the phone?”

“Uh, I mean, he was a little worked up, y’know, in his usual dramatic self.” His answer came with the hesitation of wondering how to play the best wingman to people who clearly hadn’t established the best opinion of him. “But, he’s coming, dropped everything and is on his way.”

“See, I told you.” Winnie nudged your shoulder. 

Steve popped a ranch covered fry into his mouth. “Told her what?” 

“That Eddie being angry means he’s totally into her.” Winnie proudly beamed. 

He laughed. “Oh, yeah, I heard about the whole flowers thing.”

You fervently shook your head. “I’m not exactly trusting anything Eddie does to be in good faith.” You proffered a delicate smile. “I mean, I know what he’s like, so not really trusting him to be this great person.”

Steve’s eyebrows furrowed. “So, then, can I ask why you agreed to date him? Like, especially after what he did to you.” 

Both you and Winnie took a second to stare at one another, before she leaned in close. “I know he’s your friend, but you promise not to say anything? Y’know, to him?” Now piqued with interest, Steve stood straight, nodding in agreement. “Okay…” Winnie sighed, “we’re basically trying to take him down.”

Steve laughed, quite amused, and very happy with accepting the request to go on this blind double date. “Wow, okay. A feminist thing?” He chuckled, “How’s that going?”

“Well, we’re only in the beginning stages, but it’s working great so far!” Winnie gloated. “I mean, he was literally begging her to go out on this date! I am a genius!”

“So, then what’s the follow up?”

“Well, I’m sure you know how Eddie is.” Steve confirmed it with a shake of his head. “We are just trying to make him feel how we, as women who have fallen victim to him, feel.” Winnie held her head high. “So, if all things run smoothly, then hopefully he’ll learn to not be such a douchebag.”

“Yeah,” Steve sighed, “I mean, he’s a good guy.” Winnie raised an eyebrow in disbelief. “Well, at least, he used to be.” He clarified. “I think moving to the city was very much a way of letting go of his old life here, which, y’know, I’m proud of, though, I’m sure he’s probably not making the best decisions most of the time.”

“What was he letting go of?” You curiously asked, leaning against the table.

“Well, Eddie hasn’t always exactly been a ladies man.” He breathily chuckled. “Uh, in fact, probably not the most liked guy in town. By girls, or people in general. Just unfortunately got tied to a bad reputation, because of how close-minded Hawkins can be. Y’know, the whole metalhead gig isn’t exactly what the church goers of our town prefer.”

Concern etched across your face. “It got that bad that he wanted to leave?”

Steve nodded. “I mean, people are assholes, gave him grief just to take the piss out of him. I know he didn’t exactly want to leave- or, actually, leave the people in his life behind. He’s got an uncle over here, me and our other friends, his old band members, his little DnD club.” Eddie Munson, the cocky lead singer, played Dungeons and Dragons? You softly laughed, truly believing Eddie was an enigma; such juxtaposition within himself. “But, y’know, he had to do what he had to do. For himself.”

“And now he really does just do everything for himself.” Winnie playfully scoffed. 

“Well, I’m sure he’ll have a change of heart if he continues “seeing” you.” Steve smiled. “I mean, think the last I ever heard of Eddie giving anyone flowers was for this cheerleader he had some crush on, before her boyfriend got wind of it. It turned into this big blow out, Eddie, of course, had already gotten into his fair share of fights before, so pretty easy to say this kid got beat up, until his basketball buddies joined in. That only worsened his image, and pretty much humiliated him, so…”

“Yeah, no wonder he turned into such an asshole.” Winnie inferred, as a deep pit of sorrow buried in your belly for Eddie. Something you severely tried to ignore, given his background had garnered no justification for his current actions. 

“But maybe he’ll turn a new leaf.” His friend felt optimistic. Or, at least, hoped. “He still working down at that tattoo parlor, right?” 

Was he? Despite how much Winnie fed you, you actually knew nothing of him. “Probably.” Winnie’s face stuffed with the crunch of a juicy tender. “What about you, though? Eddie mentioned something about a lawyer?” She sweetly smiled.

Christ. Perhaps bailing on Eddie’s chauffeuring offer only forced you to become a third wheel for the time being. “Oh, definitely not a lawyer, just a paralegal for my dad who is one.”

“Still impressive, though.” She batted her lashes. “I’m sure you’re great at it.” Truthfully, Winnie Ambrose had no clue as to what a paralegal was, but if it made him flash his smile, then she’d gladly continue. 

“What about you two? You guys work?”

“Yeah, just as a barista, while I finish up college.” You concisely answered. 

“Oh, and I finished cosmetology school not too long ago, started working as a hairstylist, so I could totally do your hair, which by the way, you have great hair.” Her fingers delicately played with the few strands that framed his head. 

You hadn’t seen yourself suddenly wishing for Eddie Munson to appear sooner. It was on the sixth chicken tender that you were beginning to lose patience. While Steve Harrington had been the farthest from rude and included you in conversation, you weren’t socially inept to understand that his preferences laid in speaking with the girl he blindly agreed to date. But on the upside, you’d been surprised as to how entertaining it was to dip from between ketchup and ranch to please your taste buds. And washing it down with a cool beer? Surely, this was heaven-

“What happened to you not eating meat?” You felt his hot breath against your ear. 

Your nose nearly bumped his, as your head spun to meet his squinted eyes that scrutinized you through his glare. You had no other choice than to smile, and pop the last bit of the chicken tender into your mouth with a glorious crunch and moan that pissed him off with a smile searing onto his face. 

“Hey, man, you made it.” Steve Harrington had brandished Eddie Munson’s hand with the typical boyish handshake, before Eddie’s jacket met the table, and he took his seat next to you. 

Eddie incredulously chuckled. “Well, y’know, would’ve come sooner, but…” his glare twisted to you, “...apparently reading is a little hard to comprehend for some.”

Gobsmacked, you were ready to smack that smirk off his face, but Winnie had chimed in. “Actually, we did read it, we just didn’t care.” She placed a fry into her mouth. 

“‘We?’” Eddie laughed. “C’mon, Wendy, don’t you know by now no guy would ever give you flowers? That note was for Y/N.” Eddie hadn’t even cared to notice the look of offense that stunned her face, only focusing on whispering into your ear. “And I thought I told you by now to have a mind of your own?”

Your stomach became agitated by his words, and suddenly those six chicken tenders and fries felt like a bad idea. “God, you see how much of an asshole your friend is?” Winnie’s voice felt so distant in your hazed mind. 

“Hey, Ed, c’mon, knock it off.” Steve mediated. “Look, let’s just all start on a clean slate, alright? No more bickering.”

“Alright, then.” He sighed, switching his full attention to you with a sly grin. “It’s nice to see you again, Y/N.”

The most you could mobilize out of your mouth was a simple, “hi,” in return.

Eddie’s tongue lolled around the inside of his mouth. It was clear you were going to be short with him. “So, uh, new to Hawkins, huh? How’re ya liking it?” Winnie’s words of advice were burdening your overthinking head. Three seconds. One… two- “Uh, okay, I’m glad you could make it. Glad that you agreed most of all. Even if you got here without me.” You gulped. One… two… thr- “Can I get you another drink?” You blinked down at the half filled beer bottle you’ve been nursing. One… two… t- “Okay, don’t answer.” Eddie gave up with an exasperated sigh. 

“Hey, if you two would like another round, I can grab it for you?” Steve proffered, and you watched Winnie subtly nod her head to you in secrecy.

You stuttered back quickly. “Oh, yeah, t-that’d be great. Thank you, Steve.”

Eddie glowered in disbelief, watching as Steve whisked himself away towards the bar. “Y’know, if flowers weren’t your thing, you could’ve ringed me up to let me know?” He suddenly shoved himself in your face. 

“Oh, they are.” Winnie punctuated. “Just not from you.”

Eddie ignored her. He knew what she was doing, and he wasn’t falling under any trap that would subscribe him to that asshole attitude he surely acquired.

So, Eddie Munson’s eyes glued to yours. “Was it the type? Not your favorite? What is? Or, are you into those weird fruit bouquet things? I can get you those if you are? Hell, chocolate even-”

“No, Eddie.” You stopped his questionnaire. “I just- I just felt more comfortable riding with Winnie, s’all. Thought it’d be best. For me.”

For you. Was that enough to, at the very least, show him you did, in fact, totally, very much have a mind of your own…?

“Alright, then.” Eddie sat back, actually accepting your words. “Fair enough.”

“Plus, she just didn’t want to be stuck in a car with some pervy jackass.” Winnie smiled, mindlessly dipping her food into the condiments. 

Eddie chuckled. “Y’know what? I think we kinda got off on the wrong foot here.” He smiled, as she rolled her eyes. “So, I’m here to say I’m sorry. There it is. My formal apology. See? Growth.” Eddie winked over to you. 

“Oh, you’re sorry?” Winnie incredulously laughed. “For what is it exactly, Eddie, that you’re sorry for? For being an asshole? For lying? For leading me on? For having sex with me, then ditching me?”

Eddie pretended to ponder on that thought. “Yeah, sure.” He shrugged, as Winnie scoffed in disgust. “All of the above.” 

“Ugh, you little, piece of shi-” Steve set the bottles of beer down.

“Hey, everything alright here?” He hurriedly intervened. 

Winnie took a deep breath. “Fine, then. Apology accepted.” She ardently sat up straight. “So, how do you guys know each other?” She looked between both men. 

Eddie had been quite quick to answer. “High school.” Bluntly so, too.

“Oh, you mean back when you were a loser?” Winnie smiled.

Eddie’s face dropped. “You told them?!”

Steve exhaustedly sighed, running a stressed hand through his hair. “Dude, I didn’t mean- look, it just came up in conversation, I was just trying to explain things.”

Eddie fell back with a look of unease, shaking his head in disbelief. His expression had vividly written the discontent he had with Winnie bringing up his past, it clearly being something he hadn’t wished to be disclosed to people he barely knew. “Hey, okay, look, we don't have to talk about that.” You interrupted, watching Eddie preoccupy his discomfort by mindlessly picking at a napkin. “Um, Steve said that you worked at a tattoo parlor, is that right?” You softly pried, but your endeavors fell short with his blatant choice to ignore you. “Hey, Eddie, you said you wanted us to get to know each other better, right? Well, now, we’re on a date, so we can.” Your genuine smile was enough to have him slowly eye you. Throwing his words right back into his face, he hated it. 

Eddie slowly began sitting up, even choosing to discard the napkin. “Um, yeah. Alchemy Ink.”

“Oh, yeah, that’s the one down the-”

“-Street from the coffeehouse, yeah.” Eddie finished for you. “It’s, uh, why I go down there for my breaks.” He tried to shrug off.

“Oh, that notebook- the one you, uh, drew those cute, little bats in- the really good ones, is that where you draw, like, your tattoo ideas?” Damn it, you were making it really hard to stay angry with your sweet conversation. His lips twisted inward to suppress his fighting smile. 

You just had to fucking remember those damn bats, huh?

“Uh, yeah, t-the beginning sketches. Just, y’know, to get some ideas flowing, get a feel of what I can work with.” God, with you staring at him, Eddie really wished he had a beer to drown his stupid thoughts. But with how much you hated him, the rational part of his brain crossed off any idea of becoming a drunken asshole on a first date. 

“That’s really cool.” Fuck you for flashing that smile, Eddie thought. “You should tattoo some law scale on Steve.” You joked.

Eddie chuckled. “Already poked ‘KING’ into his ass.”

With Steve shaking his head in disbelief, Winnie gasped, as the act of hiding his face within his hands confirmed Eddie’s words. “You got the word ‘king’ tattooed on your ass?!” She laughed. 

Fair play to Eddie. “Hey, hey, in my defense, we were drunk high schoolers, and it was just some shitty stick-and-poke.” He laughed. “Plus, you have no room to talk, given ‘FREAK’ is permanently on your ass!”

“Freak? Why that of all things?” You questioned through your fits of giggles. 

Eddie flashed you that devilish smile that had you instantly regretting your words. “I can show you more than I can explain it to you.” And his winked was merely met with the annoyed roll of your eye. 

“No, no,” Steve laughed, “it was just some bullshit high school thing.” 

Luckily, any tension of hostility was able to dissolve through the bubbling laughter that naturally came around. Through the round of beers, the stories of which Steve Harrington and Eddie Munson held were animatedly shared in strides to get their dates to laugh. And to their credit, they surely did accomplish such task with recounting the juvenile trouble they encountered during their teenage years, while not stepping too deep into the territory at which Eddie was still visibly uncomfortable with. A part of you had been curious to understand the complexity as to why Eddie hated his past to such a degree. But your mouth stayed quiet, apart from minimal conversation, as you, too, would feel uneasy if anyone had brought up your past.

Which is why you grew stiff when the topic of conversation switched to how you befriended Winnie Ambrose. 

“Much like Harrington and I, you guys seem quite different.” Eddie interrogated. “So, how is it exactly you guys became friends?”

“Um,” Your brain went numb with the racking thoughts that were trying to spew out of your mouth to find anything, literally anything, to not mention him, Dalton…

“Same like you, y’know, high school.” Winnie briefed concisely enough to save you. “Nothing too crazy, really. Definitely not by some third-party freshman.” She joked to derail the conversation.

But ever the curious one, Eddie hadn’t stopped with the prodding, as he became quite serious with his task of getting to know you. Especially given the circumstance that he couldn’t thoroughly do so to his preferred degree, with two people hijacking this supposed date. “So, what? Through a class? A club? Were you in any clubs, Y/N?” You hated how ardent he’d become with eye contact. 

“Uh, n-no, never really was.” You stuttered out. “We just kinda met through friends, I guess. We, uh, knew the same perso- people.” 

“What person?” Eddie had clocked it, and his interest had skyrocketed. 

“Uh…” You swallowed thickly. “Just some ex-boyfriend s’all.” You adamantly tried to brush off with a giant swig of the beer in hand. 

But, of course, with the mention of an ex-partner, Eddie was never going to let it go. “‘Ex-boyfriend?’” He smiled sickly. “Someone I’m gonna need to fight to get to you, huh?” Eddie teased. “What was that relationship like?” He relished in the invasive nature that had your squirming in your seat. 

“Uh, I-I don’t, um-”

“Jeez, they broke up, and moved on. He’s irrelevant.” Winnie interrupted for your sake, as Eddie quietly scoffed to himself. “Are you currently seeing anyone else, Steve?” She turned the focus away. 

“Oh, uh, no, not seriously.” Steve answered. “Just a couple’a first dates the last few weeks, but most of which we’ve agreed to just keep it as such, no second.” 

Winnie flashed an overly bright smile. “See, it’s so attractive when guys actually communicate, and don’t blow off girls.” She couldn’t have been more obvious. “Right, Y/N?”

“Huh?” Suddenly, her elbow was connecting to your rib. “Ugh-um, right, right, so attractive.” You powered through the pain. 

“Respectable job, communicates, respectful, and has incredible hair,” Winnie gushed, “you’re really just, like, the perfect man, right?” She turned to you. 

“Mhm.” You sweetly smiled, choosing to turn your back to Eddie Munson to gaze your full attention to Steve. “Very perfect.”

Had Steve not been notified of this so-called ‘Take Eddie Munson Down’ operation, he surely would have cocked an eyebrow at the weird behavior you both were beginning to show. But the man was merely left blushing behind his hand, with a smile that held back amused laughter.

Because while Steve smiled, Eddie had scowled at your unexpected response.

It became quite evident he hadn’t been all too keen on sharing this night with others. While he understood he suggested the invitation of a stupid double date, it was only spoken as a last resort to finally get with you. And even then, it didn’t mean he had to like it. Especially, when all of sudden, any chance of a potential romance was abruptly shot down with Winnie Ambrose’s interjection to somehow turn the conversation to Steve Harrington, who you suddenly took a liking to?!

If it was the weather, suddenly you both were drooling over how Steve would “totally be, like, the hot weatherman you’d turn on the news for just to gawk over.”

If it was your studies, suddenly you’d exclaim about how Steve “looked just like that one sexy professor in the psychology department.”

If it was Eddie’s job, suddenly both of your attention was turning to Steve to detail “how hot he’d look with tattoos.”

I have tattoos, Eddie screamed in his head. His nostrils were flaring with deep breaths, as he felt his body boiling over the sight of you leaning over the table just to speak to him. By 10:02 P.M, the date had irreparably turned into some flirt fest starring Steve Harrington, and any attempts at having a one-on-one conversation with you had pissed him off to no avail, as you casually shrugged him off as some old pal. 

Eddie’s knee was bouncing by the second, eyes jumping from person to person, as the conversation carried on without him. Had any of you even noticed that he hadn’t spoken a word in five minutes?

“Well, I spent most of my time working with a close buddy of mine at a movie store, just a couple blocks…” Eddie didn’t even try to listen to Steve’s backstory, he couldn't even if he wanted to. His eyes had trained themselves to your side profile, the one that hadn’t looked at him in six minutes and twenty-three seconds in counting—crazy, he knows, but that wasn’t the topic of conversation—as you were too entranced with listening to Steve’s boring story. Eddie Munson had had enough. “...But my father was really hammerin’ on me to pursue something-” The grating noise of chair legs scraping across the floor had interrupted his speaking, as Eddie made the rash decision to pull you closer. 

With the close proximity, his hand secured itself around the back of neck to pull your head close, as his lips brushed against the shell of your ear. “Finish your food, I’m taking you somewhere else.”

You froze, as Eddie cleared his throat as though nothing happened. “What’s up?” Winnie worriedly questioned. 

“Nothing.” Eddie shrugged, finishing the last bit of his food. “Just taking Y/N somewhere, so we’re,” he gestured to the both of you, “wrapping this up. You lovebirds do as please.” As everyone was slowly accepting the abrupt ending of the double date, Eddie was casually reaching for his wallet to slap the table with a couple of bills. “I asked, so I’ll cover it, Harrington.”

Oh, shit. Winnie hadn’t prepared you for alone time with Eddie Munson. It’s when he strikes best!

“Yeah, thanks, man.” Steve offered in return, before turning to Winnie. “Um, would you be okay with wrapping up as well? You got quite some ride back to Indy, don’t you?”

“Oh, yeah.” Winnie solemnly agreed to, as she mentally cursed Eddie for ruining the only good date she’s been on in the last few weeks. 

You stood from your chair, finishing the last swig of your beer that you had left, before Eddie’s hand circled around your waist. “Hey,” he came in close, “It’s been a minute, so I’m just gonna say hello to Rog, and the couple’a people I haven’t seen in a while.” You nodded along, as you took into account the stories he recounted about his days of being a barback. “Here,” his keys dangled before you, “just make yourself comfortable, okay? I won't be long. It’s just the van out front.”

With two pats on the small of your back, all you could muster was a soft, “okay,” before you shuffled to Winnie.

Watching Eddie walk away, you clutched to her arm. “He told me to go to his car, I’m internally panicking right now!” You aggressively whispered.

“Okay, just calm down and go, alright? I’ll meet you out there in a second.”

With Winnie’s words, your legs worked fast to drag you out of the bar, where the gentle breeze slapped you with the needed composure to locate the large van parked a couple feet away. Unlocked, and strapped in, you took a deep breath in the passenger seat of Eddie’s car.

Though, that deep breath was unwarrantedly invaded by the pungent smell of weed and cigarettes, and while you were sure that may have come as a speedy remedy for stress, you weren’t too pleased to be suddenly struck with it at this moment. 

You jammed the key into the ignition, revving the van to life to hopefully clear the smell with the much needed air conditioning, but all you got in return was the thrashing clash of some metal band screaming into your ear from the abrasive volume Eddie chose to listen to his music. 

Jumping to turn it down, you finally settled back against the car seat with a heaving chest. But like clockwork, your nerves were shot with the adrenaline of being horrified from Winnie suddenly opening the car door.

“God, Winnie, you scared me half to death!” You screeched, as she clambered into the front seat. 

“Look, we have to make this quick, Steve’s using the bathroom, and who knows when Eddie’s coming back.” She underlined. “We gotta prepare you, okay? Being alone with Eddie is nothing like being on a double date with Eddie! This- this means he’s really into you!”

“O-Okay, so what now? I wait four seconds to respond?”

“‘Four seconds?’” Winnie looked at you as if you were crazy. “There’s no four seconds, you’re practically seeing Eddie Munson now! This is basically dating!”

“I don’t want to be dating, though!” You implored through round eyes. 

“Well, you’re just gonna have to suck it up!” Winnie set you straight. “Just remember, confidence is key, alright? Don’t let him walk all over you!” She coached. “You be straightforward with your responses, don’t let him intimidate you.”

The panic was beginning to settle too deep. “W-Well, what if he tries to make a move? Is he going to make a move?!”

“Look, just whatever he does, keep it to a minimum. Nothing more than a kiss, alright?” You nodded in agreement. “Are you a good kisser?”

Your brows furrowed in confusion. “Well, I-I don’t know, h-how does anyone know if they’re a good kisser?”

Winnie dramatically sighed. “Well, do you guys tell you you’re a good kisser?”

The sudden revelation hit you like a truck. “Oh, my god, I’m a bad kisser!”

“Sh! Sh!” Winnie tried to calm your trepidation. “Y/N, look, it’s really simple, okay?” She mounted over the center console to set your head straight. “It’s just effortless movements. Light touches, okay? Light.” Her hand gripped to your jaw. “Just lock onto him, nothing too crazy. Grab onto that gorgeous head of hair, but no passion just yet, you have to build it up.” Her face came closer. “Be in control, hold his gaze, it just has to be the temptation,” her breath fanned across your features, as you felt weary as to where this was heading, “just a light brush to leave him wanting more.” Suddenly, Winnie’s lips were planted against yours, and you made your truest effort to follow her guidance, until-

“Holy hell, kiss her again. Do it!”

You and Winnie instantly pulled apart to witness the gross man who stood watching in amusement in front of Eddie’s parked van. “Get out of here, you perv!” You flipped on the headlights to scare the man, who quickly scurried off, when suddenly the beaming headlights showed Eddie coming over. “Oh, shit, Eddie’s coming!”

Winnie freaked, suddenly choosing to scale over the front seats to scramble her way into the messy den that was the back area of Eddie’s car. You sat abnormally stiff once Eddie stepped foot into his van. “Hey, you okay?” He asked, as he settled himself in. 

“Mhm.” You hummed out. 

He took a second. “Um, look, I know it’s probably not the most ideal situation, but I promise it won’t be anything terrible.” You slowly peered at Eddie, who sat cautiously in his seat. “I-I just,” he sighed, “I just want to, at the very least, get a chance to actually speak to you. W-Without Harrington or your friend. Just you.”

“Okay.” You softly nodded to his request, which eased a deep breath from chest. “That’s okay.”

A small smile etched upon Eddie's face, and you hadn’t decided whether to take it innocently or sinisterly. With Eddie Munson, it was almost always the latter. With your approval, Eddie pulled out of the parking lot—unbeknownst to him, with Winnie in tow—to head along the long stretch of highways that traveled along the breadth of Hawkins, Indiana. 

Though, unfortunately, forgotten within the walls of The Hideout, Steve Harrington was flinging his hands dry from water due to the lack of paper towels that were never refilled within the men’s restroom, as he sought his way outside to a dead parking lot. “Win- Winnie?” He turned about. “Eddie? Anyone?”

Eddie’s fingers slowly turned the volume up of his radio. “Did you have a good time, at least?” He asked. 

“Oh, yeah, I quite liked the bar; a lot less crowded, which made it more enjoyable than the one from Saturday night.” 

“Yeah?” He lilted. “Not really into that scene, huh?”

“No.” You chuckled. “Definitely not, but it is yours, no?” You interrogated back, almost accusatory in Eddie’s eyes. “You go there a lot, I’m assuming?” Spoken as if to find a definitive reason to not let this “date” prolong any further than tonight. 

“I, well, um, wouldn’t say a lot.” He searched his way around the words. “Just when needed. For the band.” 

“Huh, okay.” Eddie thought you relented. “Not the best reputation with that band though, right?” You smiled so sickly, Eddie was scoffing out a laugh. 

He hadn’t seen such feistiness from you yet, he was honestly relishing in it. “We just- we just like to have fun, s’all. Don’t you? Unless you’re, like, some total buzzkill.” He smirked back. 

“No, not a buzzkill.” You protested. “Just have self-discipline, you know? Or, wait, do you not know?”

Eddie kissed his teeth with a dimpling grin that was becoming permanent on his face with. “Oh, no, I know.” His finger aggressively tapped against his steering wheel. Because, truthfully, if he hadn’t known, he would have immediately pulled the car over, and shut you up the way he knew best… and, well, did best. “Just, y’know, like to live my life to the fullest with everything accomplished.”

“And everyone apparently, huh?” 

Eddie’s knuckles were fusing white with the tight grip he clutched. “You’re walking on thin fucking ice here, Y/N.” He huffed a laugh from his buzzing body. 

“Why?” You feigned. “I thought you liked having fun?”

Oh, Eddie Munson was so fucked. 

Winnie Ambrose couldn’t have been more proud with the dedication shown by you, as she pushed through the pain of holding back her laughter that threatened to spill with every bump Eddie carelessly passed. She wrestled around the displayed blankets that she felt icky even touching, wondering what unfortunate crusted stains she may have been laying upon. Winnie shifted uncomfortably, as she reached beneath her to wedge out a bra that slung from under. Winnie silently gasped. “That dog.” She mouthed, until her nimble fingers suddenly felt the cushion of thick padding that invaded the bra.

Oh, great… it was her’s, she shamefully tucked the bra under her arm. 

Lover’s Lake had been nothing but a ten minute drive for you and Eddie Munson, but somehow, the tension you both left untouched with silence seemed to make it last an eternity, as you both suffocated in the teasing friction that consumed the air between you two. 

You peered out the window, watching worriedly as Eddie took a turn into a wooded path that left you viewing nothing but dark trees. “It won’t be anything terrible, huh?” You hid your anxiety through forced giggles. 

“Yup.” Eddie did little to denote any further. “There’ll be a time when you’ll finally trust me.” 

You head slumped against the cold glass. “Yeah, doubt it.” You whispered to yourself, unaware of the smile that ate at his face, as he quietly heard your words. 

Much to your dismay, Eddie Munson proved you wrong—though proving your right could have left your name attached to some true crime murder case—as his van parked along the clearing that showcased such a scenic view of a sparkling lake that reflected the crystal tranquility of the moon and stars. Too enthralled, you hadn’t taken notice of Eddie leaving the car, until he approached your side to guide you out. “Is this too terrible for you?” You shook your head. “Perfect, then. One of my favorite places, in fact, so it would have pissed me off if it was.” With the slam of the car door, Winnie peeked up from her hiding place, watching as you and Eddie began walking down west. 

“Do you come here often?” You pondered, taking in the scenery, as your shoes sunk into the mush of muddy grass and moss.

“When I lived here, yeah.” Eddie hopped over strewn branches. “For being so shitty, I gotta admit, this place sure does have some nice hiding spots. 

“You gonna take me to see all your secret hideouts?” You peered up at him. 

Eddie smiled. “When we get there, absolutely.”

“If.” You insisted. 

“When.” He retaliated. 

You rolled your eyes at the tongue-in-cheek attitude he liked to flaunt around, where he found nothing but mirth with every irk he managed to tick out of you. Silence settled through your stroll, until Eddie decided to break it with his unheard of vacillated voice. “So, uh, hey, you said you enjoyed tonight.” You nodded along. “Was that because of Harrington? Did you, like, I don’t know, like Steve?” 

His hands balled behind his back, as his peripheral glued to your face intently. “Oh, yeah, I liked Steve, he was really nice!” You sincerely spoke, as his teeth began sinking into the cracked despair of his bottom lip. 

“Oh,” was all he could proffer in return.

“I feel like it’s my duty to now push Winnie to continue seeing him.” You had no clue how much your giggles eased his mind. “He seems like he could be really nice to her, very sweet he is.”

Eddie huffed out a heavy sigh. “Y-Yeah, it’s nice those guys could hit it off… like us.” He smiled up close to your face, which had you stopping in your tracks.

“Are we hitting it off, Eddie?”

Standing before you, Eddie kissed his teeth with a grin. “I’d say we are, no? Got you out on a date, actually speaking to me, conversing well.”

“Okay.” You simply noted, continuing your walk, as he scurried to follow.

“‘Okay?’” Eddie repeated with the need of elaboration. “I don’t like that I don’t know what you’re thinking, Y/N.”

“Oh, maybe we are hitting it off, I feel the exact same way about you.” You joked through your soft laughter. 

“No, no, I say what I’m thinking.” Eddie maintained his stance. 

You incredulously laughed in return. “But Eddie, everything you say has quite the history of being a lie.” Your reprisal disseminated over any argument he was willing to divulge to support himself. Eddie Munson could only laugh at himself. How stupid of him to believe he could weasel some smooth talking to a girl, who quite literally witnessed him being kicked out of her apartment for being an asshole. “Kinda got my proof with Winnie-”

“Y’know,” he immediately interjected, “I think… you rely too much on her opinion.”

“And I think you’re a jackass.” You defensively snapped back. You hadn’t even expected it to come out so rash. 

Eddie mockingly laughed in your face. “Oh, yeah? You think I’m a jackass? Alright, I’ll be a jackass. What’s up with that ex-boyfriend of yours you got so weird about? He a jackass, too? Hurt you real bad? Did something to make you lose some bullshit trust, so now you rely on your friend to help you through everything? 

You loathed Eddie Munson. “Screw this.” You scoffed back, choosing to turn away from him, and make your steady way back to the van. 

But he had taken a hold of your hand, forcing you back to his vicinity. “Hey! We’re not done here.”

“Okay, fine! What’s up with your past here? You got really worked up over Winnie bringing that up. And I tried to be nice, and not talk about it, but since you’re such an asshole, I truly don’t care anymore.” You retorted. “Steve mentioned how much people hated you here, and honestly I can see why! You are so conceited, and full of yourself. You’re not considerate of anyone’s feelings, and god, you just say the meanest things. I’m pretty sure most people are happy you left this town, since it meant never having to be near you again.”

No longer was this the banter of any light teasing. Eddie had flung your hand from his, as he stared you down. “You don’t have a single fucking clue as to what you’re talking about.” His heavy breathing had to be manually controlled by his self-control, as his aggressive breath blew into your face.

“Oh, what, but you do?!” You derided so scornfully right back at him. 

Nothing but both of your heavy breathing could be heard against the empty lake front. With such intense eye contact that neither of you ever planned on breaking, Eddie was suddenly drawn in with temptation, and inched his head close against yours, as you lured yourself in…

Until your hands slapped against his chest. “What the hell are you doing?” You shoved him away. 

Your push had snapped some sense into Eddie, and his mouth had fallen open with the words that couldn’t be found, as he held his chest with a sincere hand. And it only worsened his case for a cocky grin to creep upon his face towards you. “You so wanted to kiss me.” 

Your mouth dropped at the absurdity of his ridiculing laughter. “Are you insane?! No, I didn’t!” You’d rather drown in Lover’s Lake than ever let him think so. “Christ, would you just get off your high horse for two seconds, and learn that not everyone wants you?”

You stomped on your heel, walking away from him once more. “I don’t have a fucking horse!” God, you could slap the stupidity out of him. “Hey, alright, c’mon, I shouldn’t have done that! Y/N!” His hand latched back onto yours. “Look, I’m sorry, okay?” Eddie turned you around. “My dad was some absent crook, who ruined my life with his schemes, and everyone in this shit town fucking took it out on me, alright? So, sorry, but it pissed me when you fucking said that shit.” Your brows furrowed at the sudden dump of information he expelled onto you. All while Eddie simply waited. “Well, go on.”

“What?” You questioned. 

“Your turn.” He made it seem so obvious. “You go, say something about that little boyfriend of yours.”

“W-Wha- no, I’m not gonna-”

Eddie dragged his hands over his face. “Oh, my god, just do it!”

“Fine!” You exasperated. “Yes, Eddie, he was a jackass. After two years, he just laid it all out that he never loved me like I love-” Your mouth clamped shut, as your face hid away with humiliation. “Look, I really don’t want to get into this.” You tried to get away, but Eddie had held back your movements. 

“Alright, so we won’t get into this.” He proclaimed. “What’s your favorite color?” 

“What? What are you doing?” You tried to walk around him.

But Eddie was there to keep his pace with you, only to fervently reiterate, “Just like you said, not getting into this. What’s your favorite color?”

You abruptly stopped with a defeated sigh. “Green.”

“Cool, mine’s black. Surprising, huh?” He sardonically smiled. You shook your head, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of a tiny chuckle. “Alright, let’s see what else… oh! What’s your favorite food? And I already know you eat meat, so don’t fuck with me with that.” 

That, unfortunately, had you quietly giggling, but only at your own humor. “Um, I don’t know, uh, pesto pasta.”

“Ooh.” Eddie snapped his fingers. “I love buttered noodles, close enough, huh?” Christ, that got a laugh from you. “Hell, I’ll even make us some for our second date.”

“We are not going on a second date.” You chuckled, as you began walking away. 

Eddie was quick to follow along your steps. “Sure we are. How else am I gonna find out your favorite hobby?” You had to give him credit, it was quite the perfect invitation for a conversation. 

“I like puzzles.”

Eddie snorted. “Okay, grandma, I can get down with that.” He smiled. 

“Oh, shut up.” You rolled your eyes. “I know your favorite hobby.” You spoke matter-of-factly. 

“Oh, yeah?” Eddie grinned. “And what’s that, Y/N?”

“Dungeons and Dragons, you nerd.” You laughed, as Eddie shook his head in disbelief. It wasn’t exactly the number one thing he wanted women of his interest to know; not exactly the greatest chick magnet out there. 

Eddie feigned anger. “Fucking Harrington. The mouth on that one.” 

Though, with complete transparency, if airing out his so-called embarrassing secrets was needed in order to keep you happy, he was ready to dish out the time his uncle found a number of women’s underwear when visiting his apartment in Indianapolis. Even sat him down with a heart-to-heart to remind Eddie that he’d love him no matter who he was. 

It was cripplingly mortifying to notify his uncle that he, Eddie Munson, was, in fact, just a whore. 

-

Winnie Ambrose had mindlessly pulled apart all the split ends she managed to find in her head of hair, before she exasperatedly sighed with a heavy fall against the van floor. 

It felt like an eternity waiting for you to return. She’d only hoped you’d come with your dignity, and not as another notch on Eddie’s belt. It was only when her entertainment was finally being satisfied through her nosy curiosity of ruffling through Eddie’s belongings did the passenger door finally open.

Winnie laid so stiffly, as she heard you mutter a “thank you” to Eddie’s chivalry. Your eyes briefly connected for the couple seconds it took for Eddie to reach the driver side, with you nodding to the consensus of the thrown up thumbs up Winnie proffered. 

“Ready to head home?” Eddie asked. 

“Mhm, yeah.” You politely answered. 

The forty minute drive to Indianapolis was thus embarked upon, with Winnie having to endure the detailed lore behind Eddie the Head, when one- one, singular Iron Maiden song played. Where Winnie rolled her eyes, you were quite taken aback with how much information he was ready to elaborate upon, just because it was “totally sick that we share the same name!” In the wise words of Eddie Munson. 

Apparently his only motivation to learn anything. 

Rolling into the parking lot of your apartment complex, the sky thundered with the trudging storm the spring season had welcomed. 

Eddie had turned off the rumbling ignition of his car. “Um, w-would you mind just, like, walking with me?” 

Desperately wanting to jump over to your good side, Eddie had no issue with quickly agreeing to your request. “Yeah, yeah, of course.” 

Winnie slowly moved to the back double doors that would become her escape route. With Eddie whisking you away, you subtly peered back to catch glimpses of Winnie inching her legs out of the car, holding her breath, as every movement caused the old thing to creak from the rust. 

“Okay, um, I know things weren’t necessarily ideal, but I still really enjoyed being with you, and um, I’m just really glad you endured staying with me for this long.” He sniffed out a laugh that you followed along with. 

“Y-Yeah, um, I think everything managed to work out okay in the end.” You softly smiled.

Eddie’s hand found its way to the back of his neck, a classic move that not only let him appear nervous for your sympathy, but tactfully allowed his muscle to bulge for your pleasure. “I’ve gotten quite the understanding that you’re not exactly the type of girl to kiss on the first date… much to my dismay.” He dramatically sighed to make you laugh. “So, Y/N,” your name rolled off his tongue so languidly, “actually give me a call, because I’m not above tracking you down for a second date. But I mean it, have a great night, darling.” 

Slamming the door behind her, Winnie’s breath hitched at sudden cause that halted her escape plan. The heavy door closed on the damn maxi skirt you suggested she wear! “Oh, no. No, no, no, no!” She pulled against the threads that refused to stretch any longer. 

Watching her struggle, you panicked with how quickly Eddie was about to turn away, and your mind unanticipatedly resulted to your hand turning his face towards your own.

Nose bumping, breath fanning, you stared into his eyes. “Um,” your throat went dry. Eddie took your unwarranted invitation with his lips coming down slowly to ever so gently graze against yours. 

“C’mon,” yank! “Let,” yank! “Go,” rip! 

Winnie’s skirt clung from Eddie’s back doors, as she quickly scrambled to cover her exposed self. Seeing her scurry into the gated pool area of the complex, you suddenly diverged from the kiss, planting the tiniest peck to the corner of his mouth so quickly. “Okay, um, thanks for tonight, Eddie!” You hurriedly began walking away. “Have a good rest of your night!” You waved, while Eddie stood stunned. 

Utterly frozen. 

“Wasn’t even my date, and he still managed to get me out of my skirt.” Winnie cursed herself. 

A fluttering smile flushed on his face with heat, as his fingers graced on the phantom touch of your lips still lingering on your face. 

His confidence strides led him back to his van, as he felt on top of the world. There wasn’t any girl Eddie Munson couldn’t get, and his ego was relishing in the extra boost from your kiss. But with it came the frightening reality that he wanted more than what you were giving. 

He wanted you.

Revving up his engine, there wasn’t anything stopping in the way of Eddie Munson. Not even Winnie Ambrose’s skirt that slapped along the asphalt of the road with each foot Eddie drove up.

Your mind refused to focus on anything, but your apartment door, as one thought about Eddie was going to make your head spiral out of control. You wielded yourself to swallow away those nauseating butterflies that were exploding in your tummy. 

This wasn’t happening. It couldn’t be. You hated Eddie Munson. 

“And my car is still stuck at some dingy bar. Ugh, I hate Eddie Munson!” Winnie exclaimed. 

There was only one thing for certain: Eddie Munson must die!

𝐓𝐚𝐠 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭 | If I forgot anyone who asked to be tagged, please let me know, so I can include you in future chapters. This goes for anyone who wishes to not be tagged, just inform me! And, of course, everyone 18+ is welcome to be included <3

It would also help greatly if anyone who asked to be tagged would reblog my work :) @darknesseddiem @tlclick73 @ezzynf @hereforshmut @babez-a-licious @madelynraemunson @nope-thanks @catherinnn @sunshineandwitchery @meowforluv @bellalillyrose @eddieslooneymoonie @honey-flustered @therealgothamguardianfr @fishwithtitz @corrodedcoffincumslut @ohmeg @superas1an @maraudersforlife2005

I sincerely apologize for any user that wouldn't tag, I'm not sure how to fix that :(

[fandomsimagined]

Don't Go Dark - Kaz Brekker x Reader

Title: Don't Go Dark

Pairing: Kaz Brekker x Female!Reader

Summary: Kaz Brekker realizes that he has feelings for his healer.

Word Count: 4.7k

Warnings: What you could expect from Six of Crows

A/N: This is my first time writing for Kaz, so if it's out of character, I apologize. I kind of gave up and phoned it in at the end so if you can tell, I'm sorry. Very loosely inspired by the song Don't Go Dark by Bleachers.

For most of his life, Kaz Brekker called the Barrel home–despite the fact that there was really nothing homey about it–and there was one thing that he knew for certain about the dreadful place: that it always had a tendency to contort even the purest of things into something nasty. No one was good-natured for the sake of it. If someone was kind, it was usually a ploy, as he very well knew. That was one of his first lessons in survival. Love was a weakness that oftentimes had disastrous consequences. The only thing to come from the Barrel was carnage. The currency was blood, and he’d paid his share and then some with his own, and with others. Only the most ruthless and ungodly people prospered, and prosper he did. 

Believe it or not, he did remember the short life he had before the Barrel. He remembered his father and their farm, and he remembered after his father died when Jordie sold the farm with the promise that they would find fortune in Ketterdam. That was when he’d learned the most valuable lesson that there was to learn. That the only person he could truly count on was himself. To love nothing and trust no one. If he loved nothing, then there was nothing to be used against him. Nothing that anyone could take from him. It got lonely, but it had kept him alive for this long, a feat not many accomplished, so that was how he lived. 

She was different. She didn’t live under the same guise of violence as the rest of Ketterdam. She didn’t have the same mentality: that things can always–and most likely will–get worse. She didn’t hold grudges. Not like Kaz did. Kaz was fueled by vengeance and spite. He took whatever was thrown at him in stride with the knowledge that he would find vindication by dealing a much harsher punishment. 

The winter chill bit to the bone, an unfortunate truth for Kaz especially, whose bones were already not in well-working order. His limp was more pronounced as he made his way to his office (formerly Haskell’s). The Dregs were still bustling about, doing Saints knows what, but none would bother him. It was late, the state of his face was less pristine than when he’d left, and his permanent scowl was even more noticeable than usual. No, they would leave him be.

The meeting with the Razorgulls had gone as well as he’d expected, which was not well at all. They weren’t too happy to see him, still holding a grudge over Pekka Rollins’ quite unfortunate downfall. They’d landed a couple of punches, but he always had the upper hand, and they were smart enough when it was over to abandon Fifth Harbor entirely.

His office door was slightly ajar, something that didn’t bode well. He knew that the healer would be waiting for him, but she was never so careless to leave the door open, as there were quite a few documents and collectibles that he preferred to keep away from the other Dregs. 

He pushed the rickety door open and immediately he could feel that something was off. She was sitting in the extra wooden chair that he kept there (mostly for her and Jesper since he rarely gave anyone else the privilege to stay in his office for long periods). He sat in his desk chair, his gloved fingers thumbing through the papers that he’d left. Nothing important, just something to keep him occupied. 

Kaz Brekker noticed everything; meaning that Kaz Brekker noticed her trembling hands, though she tried to disguise it by keeping them folded in her lap. He noticed her red-rimmed eyes and puffy cheeks that she’d tried to hide, and he noticed that she was jumpier than usual. Something had happened, that much was obvious, but he wouldn’t push. If she wanted to talk, she would, otherwise, it was none of his concern. Though, he couldn’t help but feel a twinge of anger at the mere idea of anything happening to her.

“Again? Kaz, you really should be more careful.” It was no surprise that she was born a healer. It was quite literally in her nature to be caring. She was born to fix things. 

“Why? If I were to die tomorrow, all of Ketterdam would breathe a sigh of relief. Maybe even cheers to the occasion,” Kaz scoffed. It sounded grim, but it meant that he was good at what he did, so he saw it as an honor of sorts. He was in control.

“I wouldn’t.” She frowned. She moved to stand above him, getting leverage so she could properly heal his face. Her lips were pursed in concentration as her fingers hovered over a gash on his cheek. It was a strange feeling. It was like he could feel the skin stitching back together as she worked. It was like an itch. “I quite like having you around.”

“Flattery won’t get you anywhere.” Kaz raised his eyebrows, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. “What are you getting at? A raise?” 

“Oh please, why would I even bother trying to flatter you?” She rolled her eyes. “Not when I know all I have to do is compliment Jesper’s hat, give him a few kruge to gamble away, and he’ll talk you into whatever I want.”

“And here I thought that you were too soft for the Barrel.” Kaz smirked. 

“I’m serious, what are you going to do if I’m not around to fix you up?” 

He thought about the statement carefully. The implication of the words. That was the confirmation he needed to push for further information. She’d opened the door. “Are you planning on going somewhere?” Maybe that’s why she was acting so strange. She seemed like the type to get all weepy about leaving. He wasn’t particularly fond of the idea himself. It would be harrowing work trying to find a new healer. Especially a trustworthy one, but he wouldn’t stop her if that’s what she wanted. He just wouldn’t pretend to be happy about either.

“No!” She exclaimed quickly. “No, of course not.” Her quick response and furrowed brow were a relief. She wasn’t planning on leaving him. Not yet, anyway. 

“Well, if you’re not planning on leaving, then I suppose I don’t have to worry about it then, do I?” Kaz spoke bluntly, though he supposed if she listened close enough, she would hear the twinge of satisfaction hidden beneath. It was selfish. Ketterdam was a grim place, but he didn’t want her to leave. She made it a little less grim. 

Her fingers moved eloquently, drifting over his broken nose, close enough that he could feel the warmth radiating from her palm. It did him well not to think about how close she was to him. It would probably send him into fight-or-flight mode if he did. 

He winced as he felt the bone setting back into place. It was nothing that hadn’t happened before, though he wasn’t sure that he would ever get used to the damn itch that plagued the area as she was working her magic. That wasn’t what bothered him, though. What bothered him was that she hadn’t spoken again, something that was quite unlike her. Normally she would be scolding him or telling him all about whatever had happened at the Crow Club that afternoon. No, she hadn’t spoken and she hadn’t provided any elaboration to her previous statement. 

“Is everything alright?” He pressed further. If it was anyone else, he would’ve left it be. A problem for another day, but this wasn’t anyone else. 

“No… I mean…” She started and paused, turning to face the wall to her side as if avoiding looking at him. He was relieved that she wasn’t planning on leaving the Dregs just yet, but there was something bothering her and he couldn’t deny being slightly concerned about what it was. Had something happened at the club while he was gone? Surely one of the others downstairs would have mentioned something to him when he walked in if it had. But, there was no way to be sure. 

She turned back to face him, taking a shaky breath as if trying to figure out what to say. “This afternoon while I was on my way to the club, a man grabbed me. Put a knife to my throat and said that if I didn’t give him all of my kruge, then he would slit my throat, watch me bleed out, and then take it all anyways. It wasn’t even much, just seventeen, but he was willing to kill me for it.” He clenched his jaw as she recounted the story. He wouldn’t interrupt, but he’d be lying if he said that he wasn’t already plotting on what he would do when he found the bastard. She reached up to fiddle with the necklace chain that she always wore, but it was missing. He’d taken her locket too.

“I was sure he would kill me even if I gave it to him, I saw his face for Saints’ sake, but I just… It made me think about if something had happened to me, then who would be here to make sure that you didn’t get yourself killed? I mean, you’ve almost done it several times with me here and I’m one of the best healers in Kerch, not to pat myself on the back or anything…” She was one of the best healers in Kerch. That was why he’d recruited her in the first place, and that was why she was under his protection. Though, he thought that she might’ve been exaggerating. He was pretty sure, he only almost died twice, and only once was his fault. 

“Who was it?” Kaz said through gritted teeth. It was unlikely that it was anyone from a rival gang. It wasn’t a secret that she was associated with the Dregs and they weren’t stupid. Pulling a stunt like that would start a war, especially since it was in Fifth Harbor. That was his territory. No, the only one that bold would be the Dime Lions, but they would’ve killed her to send a message. This was probably some random person off of the street if he had to guess. Looking for a quick buck, so they thought why not steal it? What they didn’t know was that they’d stolen it from the wrong woman. 

“Kaz-”

“Who was it?” He repeated. 

“It doesn’t matter. The point is, that I might not be here next time you decide to go and get yourself all bloodied up, and what if it’s more serious next time?” He didn’t like the way that she was talking so casually about the prospect of dying. Like it was inevitable, and she was making her final arrangements before she went. 

“Listen to me carefully. Nothing’s going to happen to you because I won’t let it.” It was a statement not a question. He would make sure to get the message across that not only was she associated with the Dregs, but she was under the protection of Dirtyhands himself, and he would make sure to send a very clear warning as to what would happen should anyone get the bright idea to lay a finger on his crew again. 

“You’re not always going to be there to protect me, Kaz. We all know it’s only a matter of time. People like me don’t make it very long  here. I’m not strong, or smart, or resourceful enough…” Her eyes were glassy, trying to hold back the tears that were forming in her eyes. He was confused. None of those things could have been farther from the truth. She may have been soft, sure, but that didn’t mean that she wasn’t smart or strong. She had to be strong to have put up with him for so long. He wasn’t known to be the most facile person in the world. 

“Nothing is going to happen to you.” Kaz’s voice was gravelly. It was rough. In fact, he’d often heard it described as the voice of a demon, or the devil himself. There was nothing soothing about it, yet he saw her shoulders slump in what seemed to be relief. That even though the Saints had never looked out for her, he would. 

She didn’t say anything else. Neither did he. That was that. There was nothing left to be said. He didn’t make promises that he didn’t intend to keep. He lied, he stole, he killed, but he didn’t break his promises. And there wasn’t a promise that he ever intended to keep more than that one. 

She silently worked on mending the split on his cheek. The Razorgulls had gotten a couple of good shots in. More than he thought, and he was starting to feel it, though he wouldn’t for long. 

“Stay at the Slat tonight.” He finally broke the silence. She didn’t live far, but clearly she wasn’t safe and he couldn’t have that.

“What?” She shot him a puzzled look. It was seemingly out of the blue, and he didn’t exactly give much room for any discussion. 

“I want you to stay at the Slat tonight. It’s late, you shouldn’t walk home in the dark.” 

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

Kaz perused the selection at Alwynn’s pawn shop. When he’d noticed that her necklace had been stolen, he knew that it had probably ended up in a pawn shop somewhere. No one stole jewelry off of ladies on the street to wear. No, clearly he needed money. 

He’d expected to have to go to more than one shop to find any relevant information, but no. It was almost too easy. He’d spotted the necklace on a display in  the front of the store. He recognized it immediately. The dainty gold chain could’ve easily been confused, but the locket that dangled from it, couldn’t be. 

“Mr. Brekker, I didn’t think of you as the jewelry type,” Alwynn gave a short laugh. 

“Well, Alwynn, there are quite a few things you don’t know about me.” 

“That, I’m sure of.”

“How much did you buy it for?” Kaz inquired.

“Bought it for twenty-five. Selling it for forty-two.” Kaz wasn’t surprised. Alwynn had always been a crook. 

“Who brought it in?” 

“I’m afraid I can’t say. Merchant-client privilege, I’m sure you understand.” Alwynn appeared nervous now. Good.

“I’ll pay double the price.”

Alwynn thought for a moment. “His name’s Griffin. He came in yesterday afternoon. He’s been staying in the alley beside Burke’s.” 

“Thank you, Alwynn. It’s been a pleasure as always.” He was well aware that he probably could’ve stolen the necklace or threatened him without spending the kruge, but he decided to, for once, pick his battles. He slid over the proper amount of kruge before making his way to the door.

Kaz found Griffin exactly where Alwynn said he would be.He’d clearly been staying there, the pile of rags on the ground and empty bottles were scattered beside them. He almost felt sorry for him. He almost felt sorry for him. Almost.

Kaz approached Griffin, making his presence known. The man, probably around twenty or so, must have been at least a little intelligent, because his expression was a mixture of fear and confusion. 

“Good evening Griffin,” Kaz crooned. “You know, I heard from a close source of mine that you met a lady around this area yesterday afternoon.” 

“I meet a lot of ladies around here.” Griffin scoffed.

“Well, this particular lady said that you threatened her. Stole her money and a necklace. Surely you would remember that. Unless, you make a habit out of stealing from women. Do you?”

“What?” 

“Do you only target women to  pay for your alcohol addiction, or was this particular lady just a special case?” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he sputtered. 

“How much did you take?” Kaz growled, ignoring the obvious lie that had escaped from his mouth. He didn’t need an answer. He already knew. 17 kruge and her necklace (which he’d gotten thirty-five for at the shop), but he wanted to hear him admit it. 

“I told you, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Even if Kaz didn’t already know he was lying, it wouldn’t have been hard to tell. The sweat beading at his forehead, the way his eyes darted, the fact that he had around fifty-two kruge worth of bottles at his feet. It was too easy. 

“This wouldn’t happen to jog your memory would it?” Kaz held the chain out. Griffin’s face went pale. It was as if all of the color had simply vanished. “So, I’ll ask again: how much did you take?” 

“Not a lot, just seventeen kruge, and I’ll-”

“You’ll pay it back. In fact, you’re going to pay back the seventeen that you stole, the eighty-four I had to pay to buy the necklace back from the crook you sold it to, and an extra thirty kruge for making me get out in this dreadful cold to track down you and this necklace.” Kaz felt it to be a fair trade. For him at least. 

“I don’t have that kind of money.”

“Well, I suggest that you find it before the week is out. Paid in full, and after that, I don’t want to see you back in Fifth Harbor again, and if I do, I’ll make sure that you end up at the bottom of the Harbor.” He turned to walk back towards the street, but he turned back before he got there. He swung his cane, hard, at Griffin’s right hand–his dominant one–earning a howl of pain. “Next time you decide to steal jewelry from a woman on the street, I would suggest selling it to a shop that’s not only a few feet away from where you’re staying.” 

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

“What’s this?” She looked puzzled at the pouch of kruge that he’d dropped on the table in front of her. Kaz didn’t answer, and realization flooded over her face. “Kaz…” she gave him a stern look. “You didn’t kill him, did you? I would feel really guilty if you killed him.”

“Relax, I didn’t kill him.” Kaz scowled. “But, he won’t be bothering you or anyone else around Fifth Harbor anymore.”

“That really makes it sound like you killed him…”

“I did not kill him. I simply reminded him that it’s not very polite to threaten women.” Kaz rolled his eyes. “Besides, if I’d killed him, I wouldn’t have gotten this back, would I?” He draped the gold chain over his gloved fingers. It was beside the point that he’d found the necklace before he’d found Griffin, and that he could’ve easily gotten it back had he killed him. She didn’t need to know that. 

“You got my locket back?” She gasped in disbelief. She took the chain, eyes wide. “How? Wait…” she paused. “Never mind, I don’t want to know.”

“I’ll have you know that you’re missing out on quite the lovely story, then,” Kaz teased. 

“I’m sure. I think it’ll be far lovelier if I never find out, though.” She chuckled. “Because something tells me it involved some of your more extreme measures.”

“Not extreme enough if you ask me. He got to keep all of his fingers. You know if I didn’t know any better, I’d think that you’re making me soft.”

“Thank you.” She offered him a gracious smile. 

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

Kaz had never been one to fear others. He was fairly confident in his ability to fight his way out of a skirmish, should one come up, so why would he? He’d fought off far more men than the three in front of him on his own. What could he have to fear?

He had never been afraid, but all it took was a few goddamn words and his blood turned to ice. “It would be a shame if something were to happen to that healer of yours, wouldn’t it?” A threat. A barely subtle attempt at one. In any other case, he probably would’ve laughed it off. Come up with some witty response. He didn’t have it in him. What if it wasn’t a bluff?

“If you touch her, I swear to you, I’ll gut you,” Kaz snarled. It wasn’t the smartest move. Now, there was no doubt that he cared. That they could use her against him. 

“The Bastard of the Barrel does have a heart, eh?” Rowell sneered. His last encounter with the Razorgulls hadn’t ended as smoothly as he’d hoped. They’d gone searching on him. Trying to find–well he supposed they did–find leverage. They’d finally found Kaz Brekker’s weakness. 

The words echoed through Kaz’s head. “Rowell, if you touch her, I can always pay a visit to Broad Street. I seem to recall that’s where your wife and daughter are? If I find out any of your men touched my healer, I’ll put a bullet in their heads myself.” He was good for it. Rowell knew it. He had never been above killing, and that was when he didn’t have something to lose. 

Rowell’s face contorted in alarm. Kaz knew where his family was. Kaz had just as much leverage as he did. The only difference was Kaz was far more ruthless than Rowell ever imagined. 

“You may think you’ve found my weakness, Rowell, and maybe you have, but you should know by now that I don’t respond well to threats. If you’re going to do something, do it. Otherwise don’t waste my time and your breath just telling me about it.” With that, Kaz began his trek back to the Slat. For the first time in quite a long time, he was scared. They could very well call his bluff. By this point, Rowell could have already gotten to her by now. He’d spent so much of his time focusing on protecting her from the Barrel, that he’d forgotten that association with Kaz Brekker was the biggest threat of all. 

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

It had been weeks since Rowell’s threat. He hadn’t taken it lightly. He didn’t think Rowell was brave enough to do anything, but if he’d noticed, it was only a matter of time before others would too, if they hadn’t already. 

He’d decided to keep his distance. That was the only way he knew how to keep her safe. Kaz Brekker was the most feared man in the Barrel because he had nothing to lose. If it came out that he did in fact care for anything… well he had a lot of enemies that would waste no time doing everything in their power to take it from him. 

He’d been avoiding her altogether. She was hurt. He knew that. It was better for her to be hurt than dead. 

He was making his way up the stairs to his study, ready to shut himself for the night to plan for the upcoming job he’d secured. It was nothing big, probably him, Jesper, and a couple of the newer recruits for the Dregs. Test their loyalty before anything major. 

He saw her near the bar talking to Jesper, laughing at something he’d said. He swiftly turned away. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Xavier (ironically one of the new recruits he was planning to take) grab at her waist. He was quite intoxicated, slurring a remark that he couldn’t hear, but was almost certainly derogatory. She politely pushed him aside, muttering a soft ‘no thank you’, but Xavier wasn’t taking no for an answer. 

Kaz didn’t even have time to think, really. He didn’t have to think. It was instinct. He ignored the pain in his leg and crossed the room. He’d never been the biggest fan of Xavier, so he didn’t feel too guilty about the punch that landed on the boy’s jaw. His knuckles throbbed from the contact, but he ignored it. When Xavier offered to try and return the blow, Kaz dodged the jab and cracked his cane over his back. 

“This is a respectable establishment, and that means when a woman says ‘no’ that’s the end of the discussion.” 

Kaz avoided her gaze, and made his way up to his study, but he was followed. 

“What was that?”

“What was what?” Kaz muttered, sitting in his chair, finally resting his leg. 

“You’ve spent weeks acting like I don’t exist, and now you’re getting in bar fights to defend me? And what? You’re just going to go back to ignoring me?” She was hardly a confrontational person, so Kaz knew that she was angry by the sudden outburst. “I don’t get it. What did I do to make you decide that you hate me?” 

Surely she didn’t really believe that he hated her. “I don’t hate you.” He still didn’t look up. 

“So, what is it then?” She was blinking back tears. He felt guilty, a feeling that he didn’t even know he was capable of. 

“You seriously don’t get it?”

“No, I don’t get it!” She shouted. 

“I care about you!” He blurted. “Far more than I should.” His confession earned a scoff. “You don’t believe me?”

She raised her eyebrows. “No, I don’t believe you. Why would I?”

“Why? What would I possibly have to gain from lying to you about that?”

“I don’t know, but I never know anything with you!” 

“Fine, if you don’t believe me, then go. If you think I’m lying then why are you still here?” He didn’t believe that she didn’t believe him. She wasn’t stupid. He knew she wasn’t. 

“I just want to know why! Why have you been avoiding me?”

“I already told you the truth, so what do you want from me?” Kaz suddenly felt defensive. “I care about you, and people noticed. Rowell threatened you straight to my face, and I realized that if people thought that you meant anything to me, then they’d come after you. They’d kill you to get to me, and that can’t happen.” 

“So, it was that easy then? You got scared that someone was going to come after me so you decided to just stop caring? That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard!”

“That is not what I said. What I said was that if they thought that you were important to me, they would come for you. I never said that meant I stopped caring.” Kaz huffed. “This is the only way that I can be sure you’re safe.”

“Did it ever occur to you that I have a stake in this too?” She was letting the tears fall freely now. “I don’t care who comes after me.”

“I can’t lose you.” Kaz shook his head. 

“You don’t have to.” 

“I can’t guarantee that people won’t come for you. I’m not sure if you noticed, but I haven’t exactly made a good reputation my priority.” Kaz attempted a joke, but really it served more as a warning. A glimpse into what being close to him would entail, which would mean always looking over your shoulder. 

“Believe it or not, I have actually caught on to that part…” She let out a soft chuckle. 

He reached up, brushing a stray piece of hair out of her face. He took the opportunity to rest his gloved hand on her cheek. He felt his body tense. His hand fell. Flashes of the nightmare that he’d endured. Jordie’s cold grey skin. The smell of waterlogged rotten flesh. It was as if he was back in the harbor. Surrounded by nothing but death and decay. 

She seemed to notice his ordeal. Concern flashed through her eyes. “Are you feeling alright, Kaz?” He’d never told her about his brother. He’d never told anyone, really. As far as he was concerned, Kaz Rietveld had died in that harbor, but that wasn’t all true. If it had, he wouldn’t be damn near hyperventilating because he’d touched her. It was stupid. He was stupid. He couldn’t imagine what she was thinking. She probably thought he’d lost his mind.

“I think you need to rest,” she suggested. “I’ll run downstairs and grab you some water, I’ll be right-” 

“No.” His voice came out hoarse. 

“Kaz, you look like you’re about to pass out, I think you should drink something.” 

“I want you to stay.” He sounded needy like a child and he hated it, but he also meant every word. “Please stay.” He grabbed her hand. Only this time, it was easier. He wasn’t thinking about death and despair. He wasn’t thinking about Jordie. He was thinking about her. 

[hikarimiyanaga]

Her biggest regret

Warnings : Cheating. Angst.

A one-shot I needed to get out of myself as I try to navigate my life-work-games balance. Lmao. Chapter 4 of the Queen's Bride should be released within the month.

You freeze as you see them kiss. The wind in your lungs taken away by the sight.

You knew it.

You knew from the way she looked at him. From the way she spoke of him. The way she touched his arm.

Because all the things she did to him were once yours.

She used to look at you like you make the sun go up.

She used to speak like you were the only thing that mattered besides her children.

She used to touch you every night and revere you.

You let out a strangled noise and they both look at you.

You step inside and get your bracelet. What once held her promise of forever. But now it just burned you. Burned your heart.

"I'm giving this back." You say as you take it off your wrist and you see pain cross her eyes. "My apologies on disturbing you, Your grace." You quickly slip away after that. You run and run as you get to your tent. So much so that you don't hear her call your name. You don't hear her reject Jon's touch as she watched you run. You don't hear her anguish scream as she held the bracelet that once promised what you wanted.

-

You spent your days training. This was your life. This should just be it. You shouldn't have fallen for her. For the queen that you served. But here you are anyways.

You pant as Grey Worm looks at something behind you with silent anger in his eyes. He's always been a big brother to you. Always there and always guiding. There was a reason you are the only woman in the unsullied. Too strong to become a slave so you became a soldier instead.

You don't dare look behind for you knew whom his silent anger is for. You can feel it though. Her burning stare. You cover his eyes.

"Stop looking at her like that. You won't be marching in front if everyone thinks you want to kill her." You whisper then drink water.

"But she-"

"No buts, Grey Worm. She's still our queen." You can see the defeat in his eyes. The gratitude winning over the want to protect you.

"Go run. So she can't see you. That is the one thing I will refuse her of." You chuckle at the vindication in his voice.

"Thank you." You say then you slip away from his presence.

-

You've been avoiding her.

Daenerys could tell. What once was your spot was always given to different people each day.

What once was your voice greeting her as she checked on her army was always replaced with Grey Worm's.

And she knew of it. But there was nothing she can do. She betrayed you. She didn't keep her promise.

She stared at the bracelet she gave you. The one you gave back to her.

She can still see it, the pain in your eyes. The unshed tears as you took it off. The way you always ran away from her whenever she wanted to find you.

She can't help the sob that escaped her as she held it.

She wished she could take it back.

She wished she never felt attracted to him. Because that once fleeting attraction only made it worse when she saw the hurt in your eyes.

"Your grace." Jon calls out as he slips inside her office. The one thing that you always did whenever it was this time of the day. She longed to see you do it again. To come get her whenever it got too late. To bring her food once you knew that she skipped dinner in order to work more.

"You should eat, your grace." Jon further opens the door and she sees the servants he brought with him.

"Do not let them in." She says and the dothraki who was stationed to her quickly made a cross with their spears as to not let the servants in. And she marveled at how you always did that even if she never said it. How you were so attuned to what she wanted that even if she never voices them out, you always just know and you always do it. "Lord Commander. This is my office. No servant is allowed to enter here even if you came with good intentions."

"My apologies. Then I can-"

"No. I will get out of here myself. I do not trust your servants to not poison me." And it seemed paranoid but she had too many assassination attempts made by so-called servants to not consider such thing.

"My apologies again. Then I will leave you to it." She watches as the dothraki close the door and go back to their original position.

'What a stark difference.' She thinks to herself. 'She never once did that. Not even made others help her when she always brought me food.' And she also remembered the bandages on your hands as you held the food. And the confession from Grey Worm that you learned how to cook just so you can give her food when she overworked herself.

"I'm such an idiot." She cried once again as she gently held the bracelet.

-

It was a silent night, you realize as you got stationed in front of her chambers. Grey Worm figured that it's been two months since then and you also insisted on the position. Besides, you were only here as she slept, so you figured that you won't even see her.

"Y/N." You flinch as you hear Missandei.

"My lady." You call out and she slaps your arm.

"I thought I told you to stop calling me that already."

"You did but-"

"No buts." You groan as you silently curse your brother. What a loudmouth.

"My apologies then. Missandei." She grins then takes your arm.

"Come."

"What! But my station."

"I can cover, Y/N." You glare at your comrade as Missandei pulls you to another room.

"Grey Worm might be my brother but he can get jealous too, you know?" You speak as Missandei stripped you of your uniform.

"Shut it." You chuckle as she gets annoyed.

"What are you trying-" You stop as she shoves some clothes onto you.

"Wear those."

"What-"

"Wear them." That was the final thing she says as she slips out of the room.

You look at the trousers and pants. It was a fancy version of what you usually wore.

'What could it be for?' You think but you wear them anyways. You know how Missandei can be if she isn't obeyed. Besides, you just know that Grey Worm will give you spartan training if you even thought about disobeying your essentially sister-in-law.

-

You arrive at her office and look at the basket and jar of wine in your hands.

Apparently, Daenerys have been missing all her meals for the past few days. Only opting for the bread to munch on as she toured and saw progress in her plans.

"She's punishing herself." Missandei says to you as she drags you. "Her guard always say that she cries at least once while she held your bracelet."

"It's not my bracelet anymore." You say with such pain in your voice that Missandei hugs you.

"It's yours. Even if you don't want it to be anymore." You sob into her shoulder as she comforts you. It's been months but you still haven't moved on. You never will, you knew that. Your fragile and broken heart will always be hers even if her heart wasn't yours anymore. "Just bring dinner to her, please. How will any of us see her ascend to her throne if she starves herself in the process?"

And so here you are. A bundle of nerves, just anxious.

"Get in, give her food then get out. Easy enough, right? It should be! Damn it!"

"Just get in." You look at Tyrion and frown.

"Even you?"

"I know what she did is unforgivable but you should-"

"I know what lies beyond. I know their atrocities." You say in resolution and open the door. The two dothrakis on her station sees you and slips out of the office as Daenerys continues working.

"Missandei? Can you just give me a glass of wine? One that can fi-"

"You should eat properly." You speak and you see as her hand stops writing. As she slowly looks at you. You smile sadly at her as you walk up to her desk. "Here." You clear her desk of her documents, bringing them over to the table in her office then bring out the contents of your basket. The ones you cooked with your own hands. She silently watches as you do all these. You don't forget to give her a glass of wine then smile at her. "Eat."

She looks at the food and wine then she tears up. Gods, how she missed this. How she missed you.

"Is this a dream?" You can hear the yearning in her voice for this to be her reality. And you know it is, the hurt and pain in your heart right now is the proof.

"It's not." You say as you pour yourself a glass of wine. You never liked the thing, always sobering through celebrations and such. And so, dream you will never drink this, you and her know that so you drink the glass in one go. You grunt as you put the glass down. You never liked it's effects before until now. The alcohol in you seemingly giving you courage to face her. "It really isn't. So eat, please." Daenerys nods and begins to help herself to the food. She watches as you pour yourself another glass.

"Do you-" She tries to stop you but you didn't want to remember this night. You didn't want this pain anymore.

-

You were drunk by the time Daenerys finishes her food. The entire jug of wine was almost emptied by you if she didn't stop you by your sixth glass.

"You know." You begin as you felt yourself get dizzy. "I knew there was a reason why I don't like wine. My self-control is slipping out of me. I can feel it." You giggle and laugh.

"Y/N-"

"And you! The love of my life!" You smile as you look at her and Daenerys felt like she travelled to the past where you looked at her like she was a goddess walking on the ground.

"Such a tragedy. I knew you would find someone better. I knew it in my head but I just- I still gambled my heart." You sigh wistfully as the pain squeezed her heart. "And I never got it back." She stares at you as you walk to her.

"Tell me, your grace." She felt another squeeze at the unfamiliar address. You stopped calling her that when the two of you made love for the first time.

"Was it fun?" She froze at that. "Was it good when you kissed him? Or when you fucked him?" You refuse to believe that any sane man would be able to resist her charm. Hell, even you couldn't resist it.

"Did it feel good when you broke my heart?" You couldn't stop the tears now as they flowed freely onto her lap. She looks as you give her a defeated smile. The same one she always sees when you decide to sacrifice yourself for a comrade, but this time, combined with your tears, was more painful than every other defeated smile you ever gave. Because after those defeated smiles. After the battle is over, you always walk over to her and give her the brightest grin and the most gentle kiss. But now, she knows she won't have that anymore. "Did you laugh when you heard it shatter? Was it- was it worth it?" You sob as you kneel. You can't think anymore. If you were sober, none of this would be spoken to her. None of this would ever known to anyone. You are an unsullied. Bottling your feelings and not showing any emotions was what you were trained for. But alcohol brought everything out. Your every self-deprecating thought, every pain and every sorrow. Because as much as you were known for your smile, no one knows how you looked when you are in grief. No one until Daenerys came. She can only watch as you sobbed until you fall asleep. She can only shed silent tears as she whispered her apologies to you.

-

You wake with a massive headache. One that makes you groan as you sit on the familiar yet unfamiliar bed. You haven't been here in a while.

"Fuck. I'm never drinking alcohol again." You grunt as the pain hits you again.

"That would be for the best." You freeze as you hear her voice. You hear her shuffle around then a cup appears in your vision. "Drink up. The maester said this would help with the pain." You shakily accepts the cup and drink it one go. The pain now concentrated at your tounge as the hot tea travels through your body. You look at her face and you can't help but voice out the first word that gets in your head.

"Dilaw." Daenerys tilts her head and you blush as you facepalm for yourself.

"Di- what?" She asks and you cover your face.

"Literally, it means yellow. But another meaning means happiness. Or source of it." Daenerys blushes as she hears your explanation. In any other day, you would grin then kiss and hug her but instead pain grips your heart instead. "I should go." You stand and avoid touching her. "Thank you for letting me sleep here. Farewell, your grace." Daenerys stops you before you can even open the door.

"I'm sorry." She says as tears flow through her face. "I'm so sorry. I took you for granted. I took everything we ever had for granted. But please, Y/N. Please give me another chance. Give me the chance to make everything right. Give me the chance to pick up your heart's broken pieces. Give me the chance to make it whole again."

"Your grace." The title makes her grip tighter on your wrist. "I have no more right. No more fight. And no more courage in me. You have taken all of those away." You shake as you finally let everything out. "You have always owned the heart you broke with your own hands. I never got it back."

"Then let me earn your trust again. Let me by your side again. I'm begging you, Y/N. Without you, everything feels wrong. Everything I'm fighting for felt empty. Every promise and plans I make felt futile."

"I can't. Not yet, at least. Please give me more time. More moments to myself. Then maybe, I can ease myself into your side again."

"Then I'll wait for that day." She finally lets go and you look at her. Look at her tear-stricken and wipe her tears away.

"Thank you, Dany." The familiar address gives her hope in her heart even as you slip away from her room.

You don't run anymore. You walk as you go outside the castle.

You knew that eventually, the inevitable will happen. That you will be hers again. Because your heart that you always protected was now guarded and owned by a dragon.

-

PS.

I will hit myself if I don't get chapter 4 out. I swear.

I need more hours in the day, to be honest. I hate working 9 am to 6 pm 😭😭.

[umbravirtus]

Starter for @wintersovereign

Hans waited again outside his father's office. All his duties were done earlier, so he could see him as he retired for the night. It's been their routine for 2 months now, Hans waits outside the red and gold doors and Ulrich pretends he's not there, but today, The King of the Southern Isles has decided to indulge him. With a disappointed, nay tired sigh Ulrich motions for his youngest to enter his office, and Hans follows. The doors are closed behind them by the guards. Hans feels the stuffy air of the place and remembers how small he felt every time he entered, how his father's booming voice and presence seemed to fill the space, asphyxiating him. But he has a mission today.

Everything in the king's office was a testament to his prowess, his accomplishments, and more. Hunting trophies mounted to a wall above the chimney, sports trophies and medals won by himself and his sons on a glass case, war game trophies behind his tall rest chair. Without saying a word King Ulrich invited Hans to sit, interested in whatever his youngest had to say, and sat himself, the chair under him made a sound as if the weight of the king was too much to bear.

"You've been persistent and patient, waiting me out daily for months. You're also shooting too high as I shall remind you, you're a stable boy after your stunt in Arendelle, and no stable boy can speak directly to his king, there are channels you have to go through, so clearly, whatever you have to say must be important." He makes a pause

"Important enough to let me know you have too much free time, to wait for me and need more duties added to your plate." Ulrich sentences and watches his son in front of him, determined, unwavering. Interesting he thought, but kept to himself. His expression is unmoving.

This was, as far as he was concerned, out of character for Hans.

"You may speak." Ulrich finally says. This better be good. Hans swallows, doing everything to hide how his hands shook as he put a paper on his father's desk and spoke with firm conviction but an even tone. "Your grace," he has lost the right to call him father, per his punishment, but he should address him differently for even in his fallen status he was still his blood and above the common rabble, or so Ulrich said.

"Queen Elsa of Arendelle has been sentenced to death by Pyre by the church." Hans goes straight to the point. Ulrich arched a brow amused, raising a hand for Hans to stop talking, he interjected.

"And you're here for what reason, exactly, vindication? To say you were right and she's a witch? Everyone with eyes present in Arendelle saw that, Hans." Urlich scoffs, shaking his head "But if you must hear it, boy, you were right, she is a witch, still, the perception remains you're a regicide and have stained the good name of the Westergaards, you either shouldn't done heroics, like the rest of the present or should have succeeded in taking an empty throne, but you did neither." Ulrich felt like he knew this was a mistake and that he regretted entertaining his son, he was about to stand up, and this was him making excuses again when he heard Hans speak out of turn. "We should save her, your grace." The younger says, eyes fixed on his father.

Ulrich knows the fear his sons have of him, he worked hard to put it there, so Hans, meek, sensible, goofy Hans speaking out of turn was a welcome surprise. He sat down again.

"Are you guilty, my boy?" He asks "Perhaps, taken by her?" he questions hand on his chin. "I was, taken by her your grace, but not anymore." Hans fessed up, he suspected his father knew about his letters.

"Really" Ulrich sounds amused and surprised. "And why should we save her, boy?" he wonders "What's in it for us, for our kingdom?"

"I won't insult your intelligence by telling your grace, she would be a powerful ally, nor will I say, this is the way to Arendelle, his grace was waiting for, since with the Queen gone the kingdom is ripe for the taking by our allies in Weselton, I won't either pretend to know what's right given my shortsightedness for which you've granted me the chance at penance, I will say, your grace, the most powerful reason is that she's a mouse."

As far as he was concerned Hans just spent half an hour stating the obvious but he was not wrong if he had given him any of those reasons to save Elsa he wouldn't have. "A mouse?" the king repeats. "How so?" he was actually interested in what Hans had to say, nay, for the first time in his youngest life.

"She's a girl without a father's guidance, she's been alone for the best part of her life, in seclusion, and she's got the prowess but she's scared, that's who I saw on the fjord, a scared girl that needs a father and a mentor, she's a mouse."

Ulrich listens intently. The truth was, he never wanted to hear Hans' version of events, but he knew enough to know what he was talking about "And yet, you decided to kill her." He points out, watching for his reaction.

"Yes, Your Grace, for she had stricken her sibling's heart with a blast of magical ice and she was, as far as this servant was concerned on death's door; her limbs and face covered in frost with nothing this servant could or should do for her aid," Hans licks his lips but his eyes remain trained on his father. "I took regretful actions to the detriment of the youngest princess and I am not proud, but I will stand by my actions towards the sovereign, for it was an act of mercy." Ulrich looked at Hans, in front of him and nodded. "Gustav," he calls his chamberlain, his office was to the left of the King, and the doors opened "Yes, Your Majesty."

"See that Prince Hans is given back his titles, and that he looks as princely as he should upon my return. Prepare Berzerker, tell Franz, Viktor, and Lars we're departing as soon as the ship is ready." "Yes, Your Majesty," Gustav says and leaves, to start the machinery needed to put the massive vessel in motion.

Hans was astounded. Frozen in place. Ulrich finally stands and pats his shoulder, "I'll go fetch the Queen, Hans" Hans, not boy.

Hans knew this would come with a cost, but he was willing to pay the price. "We'll talk about this when I come back," Ulrich announces and leaves the office to ready himself for the travel, once Hans is left alone in the office, he collapses into the chair in his arms, finally shaking, releasing his breath he had been holding, tears threatening to fall. What just happened? he wonders.

To Ulrich, Hans was right, she was a mouse, but a mouse that had managed in three days what he couldn't, she, singlehandedly took his youngest from a boy to a man, from a mouse to a lion. From someone who gave excuses and was meek in his speech to someone who didn't see him with his gaze downcast, whatever she gave him, he needs more of that.

And if he found an excuse to piss off the church, gain more allies, save face to his current allies, and expand his territory while at it, he was all too happy to do it.

(...)

The southern Isles' fleet arrived in Arendelle as a show of force. Berserker was followed by three other ships and by the looks of it they got there just in time.

When the dock master tried to stop them, they said they were there to stop the execution so at a great risk to himself, he let them through. The people of Arendelle loved their Queen, so insurrection and chaos were the feeling and moment, but a foreign, well-trained, well-funded army was able to quickly take over the small army of Arendelle and everyone had heeded the Queen's request of no bloodshed.

Ulrich guessed the redhead that was being held by three soldiers so she wouldn't run into the pyre was the younger princess. The one Hans was briefly engaged to. The red capes of the four men parted the crowd as Moses parted the sea, and with good reason.

Westergaards came in all shapes and sizes but Ulrich had handpicked the biggest and broadest. There were giant wardrobes of men flanking him, Ulrich himself was smaller but still stood proudly with his 5"8' height yet it was his presence and the air he carried himself with that took space. The experience of kinghood one could guess, and it was easy to see where Hans learned his charm from, the man has a sharp, angular face with high cheekbones, piercing expressive eyes, and a slightly prominent nose. His features often lend him a look of gravitas, giving him a timeless and dignified appearance.

There was an army behind them, nobody wanted to engage just yet but it was clear they would.

The deacon held the unlit torch in his hand when he saw the group arrive. Ulrich and the church already had their issues, they were known enemies, so the deacon recognized them on the spot.

"I presume his majesty is here to witness the execution? perhaps finally bridge the gap between the church and your kingdom by vindicating your son's actions in detaining this foul, evil witch?"

Ulrich's rich, deep, and smooth voice echoed through the crowd His enunciation is precise, and the way he spoke with a measured cadence, giving his dialogue weight and sophistication. All planned.

"Ah, Au contraire, monsignor" Ulrich clocked the man's rank just by his robes. "I am here to take the kingdom from the vile, zealots that hide under a false god and feign righteousness such as yourself" He smiled like the cat that got the cream. He points at Berserker, she has, in the time this interaction has taken place turned around on the docks, the canons, the three rows of them totaling 158 canons, now are facing Arendelle.

The clergymen looked at it nervously. Just when did this happen and how did they get there "My ship has instructions to fire if they see a column of smoke or my signal, none of us, is making it out of here, and my gods will receive me with glory, women and thunderous clap in their hall meanwhile yours, well, might be a little disappointed that you choose" He looks around "This many lives over a little peace agreement."

"You cannot possibly be serious, Majesty this is madness." the man with the torch in his hand spoke. "Queen Elsa," Ulrich spoke directly to her. "You need my aid and my son needs a wife, say yes, so this puny excuse of a man knows, just how serious this is."

[scribble-dribble-writes]

Headsets and what nots

Pairing: Alex Walter x female reader

<<< >>>

And it was maddening. To be around him. Alex Walter had that magnetic pull that the only one oblivious to it was himself. He commanded the presence of everyone around him by his silence and through his gentleness. All the words he spoke were kind, he never raised his voice. He was ready to step in and help and you couldn’t help but observe him.

It started off as a bet you made with yourself, to prove to your conscience that no one as good as him could exist because everyone at some point was bound to mess up. But not him. What had started as a game now became an obsessive chore, to crave for that vindication of being right which he made it more frustrating. He never slipped up. No unnecessary advances, the perfect combination of jokes, just the right level of touches. He kept his slate clean and you were a private investigator on the verge of going mad.

Alex led the gaming club so he was busy with new members and setting up servers or the basic orchestration of the event. Whereas you as a newly joined member was privy to the gossip and the love ridden sighs. The boys were here to play and the girls, well they were here for Alex Walter.

Everyone knew of this, except him. It was as though he was oblivious to it, impervious rather to all the attention he received. His attention was under his control. Who he gave it to, how he let the world know who his people were. You didn’t have to fight for his gaze, you had to earn it.

You kept your head down, university was supposed to be a new start. All you wanted was a friend and that was all. Locking yourself up in your dorm room only made your lonely life even lonelier and trying to meet up with people in your class did not go well either. Parties were not your scene so the only best place to be was here. In the back of this internet cafe, building cities in this virtual world along with people you only knew through avatars and usernames.

Here, you could just be, without a history.

You had forgotten to bring your headphones so you enabled the chat function and started to play the game with the people who were waiting in the game lobby. All you could hear from time to time was Alex’s name popping up often that he spent his time solving queries rather than playing.

You had one class in common with him and often passed by him in university grounds. Your eyes would meet occasionally and that was it. Apart from being far off acquaintances, you had never spent time in real time.

You were working your way through a level when out of the blue your character was attacked, making you lose the level. You thumped the desk with your fist at the disappointment when you noticed the chat. All the other players were stating it would have been easier if you were able to hear them as you had missed out on their warning.

You sunk into your seat contemplating if playing another round was worth it when someone tapped you on your shoulder.

“You can use my headset, I noticed you didn’t have one.”, you heard him.

Alex stood next to you, his face held a serene expression with a lopsided grin.

“I’ll be fine. I don’t want to be a bother.”, you let him know, a smile spreading across your face.

But he didn’t argue with you or make a scene of his lovely gesture. It was just between him and you. He held the headset apart as he fixed it over your head gently. You had to look away because he was so close. His eyes focusing on the work at hand as you sat there frozen feeling the warm soft touch on his fingertips against your cheek. He pulled down the microscope and your lips parted in surprise because his thumb grazed the edge of your bottom lip. You couldn’t help but look into his eyes and when his gaze fell on you for a second, it was as though the world had stopped and it did as he paused to look at you.

He reached out to swipe your bangs to the side as he fixed them from falling across your forehead, you were certain your heart had given out because you couldn’t even open your mouth to thank him.

“Perfect.”, he said as his eye glimmered with mischief but before you could say anything he got up to plug the wire into the port and the noise of your teammate’s chatter flooded in.

With that he walked away, and now you were back to square one, you couldn’t find a flaw in him.

Alex never quite liked his position as the person who ran the club cause it was a lot more effort than he had realised.

But now as he stood at the main table, supervising the other members, he was free to sneak glimpses of you.

The bright smile after you win, the frustration creasing your eyebrows when you lost, his fingers still tingled from the bold move he had somehow managed to pull, to feel the soft touch of your skin. He would have never done this with Jackie but with you, he felt like himself. Confident and certain in what he wanted. His heart didn’t beat against his chest, it instead covered him with a sense of comfort.

There was something about you he couldn’t quite place, something that made it impossible for him to look at anyone else.

[thr0wnawayy]

Chapter 429 has been my Dabi's Dance

I can't stop smiling.

I wanted to start off by saying thank you. Not to Hori, but to you all. Every last one of you in these tags for your contributions. Be it analysis, re-reads, fan works or simply your perspectives. I look forward to seeing what you will make in the future.

So, Thank you.

I suppose I should start at the beginning. MHA was always in the background of my life and I hated it. I don't watch anime and yet still MHA related media would make it's way onto my socials in all it's obnoxious forms. This went on for years.

And then suddenly, it stopped. It seemed like MHA's craze had died down, I'd still see it from time to time through merchandise but never to the consistency it had prior.

That was until Dabi's Dance was published and the net went wild.

I knew a few things about Endeavor from my past exposure, he was universally hated and abused his kids and wife (to the point she scalded her son in a fit of psychosis).

Deciding I had nothing better to do, I found myself searching to see what kind of consequences would befall such a monstrous character.

Would he fall like Icarus, be torn apart by the public, how would the family he ruined react to the news?.

And then, nothing. No punishment, no reaction. Just dead air.

I recall that my face dropped internally. My blank expression mirrored my phone screen's sterile nature, as it displayed the information in front of me.

He got away with it. So I did some digging and it got so much worse.

Bakugo's evasion of any consequences or damages, coddled and shielded by Hori's inability to go through on anything.

Hawks who murdered a near crippled man on a hypothesis, for the mere crime of having the "wrong" quirk, for not giving up, for being "unlucky"

Aizawa, Hori's little mouthpiece. who decides to play judge, jury and executioner with the futures of students he's supposed to be teaching. Only for the Nedzu and the narrative to allow him, his friends turned into lapdogs that agree to the letter.

The Commission who strive to keep theirrotting husk of a system alive through assasins, child soldiers and indoctrination.

Even if it's gears must be lubricated with blood, even if it means lying to the world and having them clean up the mess. They MUST stay on top, the illusion must be upheld.

I just couldn't fathom how this was seen as a good thing.

And somewhere along the way I began to feel something akin to hate. Not your typical ire, one powered by anger, no.

I wanted to see how low Hori would go, just how horrifically he would mangle a series that everyone had once praised.

I wanted to witness what wonders a jaded community would create, to show what they were capable of (to create and understand MHA in a manner Hori wishes he could even emulate a fraction of)

I wished to see your own expressions of love and hatred.

The thought of witnessing the breaking point, the dust settling to expose all the glaring flaws and infested wounds of MHA. It buzzed in my brain like electricity.

The idea that when all was said and done, you, the people would do what Hori couldn't/wouldn't and forge the bones and salvagble bits of MHA into a story worth remembering.

One where abusers are punished for their crimes instead of rewarded

Where victims can have a voice, feel and grow, carve their own paths and move forward from their trauma.

Where the implications of MHA's rotting and disingenuous society get explored instead of swept under the rug

Where people get a chance.

I waited eagerly for the day it would all fall apart.

So, do you know what I did when I logged onto the tag and saw your posts!?.

I laughed, the shrill giggle in the back of my throat quickly surging into an almost manic cackle. It was like lightning, vindicating and sobering all at once. My face was stretched to it's absolute limits with how wide my grin was. I could almost hear the shattering of MHA's last bit of integrity and I loved it.

The realization MHA's greatest threat was the author himself, It's one that I grasped long ago (as far back as the Dark Dekiru Arc) and I'm sure most of you understood this as well.

But to see that more of you are starting to get it, to realize there's no going back. That as the curtains draw near and the lights begin to dim, there is no other side here. Violence begets violence and Hori's gone past the event horizon.

It feels, hopeful. Perhaps we can build something worth saving.

It's been a wild ride so far and it's still ongoing. Hori's time is long over, it has been for a while now, so I suppose what I'm asking Is:

Now It's Your Turn, what's your play?

_______________________________________

Update:

IT'S FINALLY HAPPENING!

[writing-until-i-drop]

What's In A Name? Chapter Four

Meg Harding and Kate Carter were inseparable until their friends died five ago, then she ran to New Orleans to save lives as a paramedic. But when Javi calls on his two oldest friends to help him collect data, counting on their matching natural instincts for tornadoes, Meg goes home for the first time in years. That's where she meets Tyler and the rest of the Wranglers, the YouTube storm chasers her dad likes to watch, and finds herself fitting in more with them than with Storm PAR. Meg only plans to stay for the week but will it be easy to leave when the dust settles?

If a certain cowboy has a say in it, nothing about leaving is going to be easy.

A/N: If Meg was more of a religious person, she would have sworn she felt Jeb’s strength helping them pull Tyler to safety at just the right moment.

AO3 Link

Previous Chapter

It had been a good night until everything went to shit. Tyler had been trying to get Kate to open up and she had turned the tables on him, getting Tyler to spill the details of his first tornado. Meg had felt a second of uneasiness when Tyler had asked Kate about her first tornado, something that he had said he only asked pretty girls, but the second the wheels in her head started spinning, Tyler’s hand had fallen on her thigh. Even with his attention on Kate, Meg felt connected to him, butterflies in her stomach taking flight. 

Then the tornado decided to ruin the moment. Meg had a bone to pick with Mother Nature but first, she needed to survive. Tyler had a death grip on her hand and she was pulling Kate along, when they got to the motel lobby, she was livid.

“Nine times out of ten, it’s a false alarm,” The snobby girl in the chair announced like she knew everything. 

“Are you willing to bet your life on it?” She shouted, “Because there’s a tornado coming and we need to get underground. Now!” The siren stopped and while the woman felt vindicated, Meg’s stomach dropped, knowing that it only meant the storm was close. Too close. 

“Come on,” Kate shouted. 

“Follow her,” Tyler ordered, guiding the mom and daughter out of the door. “Run, Meg,” She hesitated, not wanting to leave his side. “Please, darlin’, run.” And she did, taking off, helping the mom and daughter across the road to the pool. She and Kate helped them into the pool, Meg pushed Kate down next, 

“Tyler!” She shouted, urging him to run faster, watching the winds take away the truck the couple from the lobby had climbed in.

“Get in the pool!” He shouted back, “Now, Meg!” Not wanting to lose sight of him but also not wanting to roll the dice against Mother Nature, Meg quickly descended the ladder. Kate was waiting for her, steadying her on her feet.

“Help the kid, Kate,” She pushed her friend towards the pipes. “Tyler!” Meg shouted for him again, getting a second of relief when he jumped down beside her.

“Stop worrying about me, darlin’, go,” He pushed her towards the pipes like she had to Kate. Meg rushed to the pipes, looping her arms around them and squatting as low as she could go beside Kate. She couldn’t breathe watching Tyler crawl across the bottom of the pool to get to the motel manager,

“Please come back, please come back.” Meg chanted, feeling Kate cry against her. “Please come back to me.” She screamed, seeing the horse trailer fly towards Tyler, leaning out as far as she could go without releasing her hold on the pipe, she screamed for Tyler to take her hand. Kate leaned out too, grabbing his wrist when Meg took his hand, the two girls pulled with all their might.

“You’re not going to lose him like I did,” Kate grunted and Meg wanted to cry. Jeb. If Meg was more of a religious person, she would have sworn she felt Jeb’s strength helping them pull Tyler to safety at just the right moment. Tyler wrapped his arms around them both, shielding them from the storm with his body but nothing could stop the sound of the tornado bearing down on them.

In Meg’s mind, she was back in the tornado from five years ago. She heard Parveen’s scream as he was swept away, she could see her friends ahead of her. And then her foot caught on something, sending her to the ground. There was no way that she could make it to the underpass, she knew it.

There was only one option and that was to dig her fingers into the dirt as far as they would go. The winds howled around her, screaming like a freight train. She could feel it as each of her fingers broke, her screams of pain lost in the wind as the tornado passed over her. Meg heard it when Addy and Jeb were swept away, and, and-

“Meg, Meggy, Margaret!” Kate’s shouting snapped her out of it, bringing her back to reality. Meg launched herself at her friend, hugging her tight.

“I love you, I love you, I love you so much and I’m never lettin’ your stubborn ass go.” Kate hugged her back just as tight.

“I love you too, Mud Bug. So much,” Kate pulled back, brushing the hair out of Meg’s blue eyes. “But I’m going to need you to hug Tyler right now. Man looks like he’s going to have a heart attack.” Tyler. She whirled around and there he was, standing with his arms loose at his sides, tears in his eyes.

“Ty,” Meg threw herself at him, wrapping her arms and legs around his torso like a koala bear.

“You’re okay,” He buried his face in her neck, one hand supporting her by her thigh, the other carding its way through her tangled hair. “You’re alive.”

“You scared me so bad,” She whispered, tears flowing freely. “Don’t ever scare me like that again, you understand me?” Meg pulled back with a fierce look in her eye, daring Tyler to rationalize the situation but he didn’t. He just pressed his forehead against hers, whispering in a raspy voice that sent a shiver down her spine.

“Yes, ma’am.” 

They separated, climbing out of the pool. Lily and Ben met them at the top, doting over the trio like mother hens.

“No more rodeo for you, Doc,” Lily hugged her tightly.

“I’m glad you’re okay, you too, Ben,” Meg hugged the reporter who didn’t hesitate to return the gesture. 

“Seems like you’re a Wrangler now, Mud Bug,” Kate whispered, kissing Meg’s temple. “I’m happy for you.” 

“I’m whatever you are, Katie my Lady, always.” 

“Traumatized?” She sassed with a humorless laugh,

“Yeah, that too.” Meg felt Tyler behind her, his hand coming to rest on her hip, the warmth of his skin bleeding through her soaking clothes. Javi started yelling for Kate and Meg but Meg didn’t move from the Wrangles. Dani ran at her through the debris to sweep her into an air-stealing hug.

“I’m so glad you’re okay, Doc.” 

“Thought I was goin’ to die again,” Meg’s breath shuddered, mind slipping again. Her fingers and wrist were on fire, burning with a pain she knew was completely in her mind but she couldn’t shake it. Not until Dani let her go and she inspected them for herself. 

Meg flexed her fingers, they were all at an acceptable angle and the right color. Definitely not broken. Next, she checked her wrist, poking at it, looking for any sign of swelling or tenderness but there was none to be found. 

“That one enough to scare you, Oklahoma?” Tyler’s tease fell flat, he turned her around by the waist so that they were face to face. Tyler was scared, Meg could see it in his green eyes and the way his bottom lip trembled, and besides the memories of the EF-5 haunting her, she could honestly say she wasn’t.

“Not scared of the tornado, Arkansas.” Meg shook her head. “Terrified of dyin’ or losin’ someone I cared about?” She felt so incredibly small and weak, like a child as she shook from her cold clothes. “Maybe a little.” She suddenly realized who wasn’t by her side anymore and felt dread constrict her head, mind going fuzzy. “Where’s Kate?” Tyler’s face softened, he turned her by the hips again and when Kate came into view she relaxed.

“Kate’s fine, she’s talking to Javi over there, see?” She did see and it was almost enough to make her smile. That is until she heard what Javi was yelling.

“I don’t know what it’s like, Kate? How about my friends died because you were chasing grant money for your stupid science project?”

“What the fuck did he just say?” Tyler sounded as angry as Meg felt. Kate ran off towards the decimated motel, Javi calling after her. Meg let out what could only be described as a growl as she took off across the lot to confront an old friend, wanting to wring his neck with her bare hands.

“Javier Ernesto Rivera, what the hell did you just say to her?” Javi had the good sense to look ashamed and the even better sense to put his hands up in defense before Meg started swinging on him.

“I’m sorry, Meg! I didn’t mean it like that, I just-”

“I don’t care how you meant it, you bastard! How could you say that to her?” Tyler was at her back, Meg could feel his presence, but he seemed content letting her fight this battle on her own.

“It’s just, we never would have been in the field that day if it weren’t for Kate. There, I said it.” Meg saw red, red hot rage flowing through her.

“How fucking dare you put that on her!” She kicked his shin, “She wasn’t the only one pushing for that storm so if you’re calling her a murderer then call me one too.” 

Javi’s face fell and so did his hands, letting Meg get a good slap in.

“You didn’t hear Addy, Jeb, and Parveen scream for their lives. You didn’t get your leg sliced open by debris,” She shoved his chest with each sentence. “You didn’t break all ten of your fingers and your wrist holding on for your life with a Goddamn EF-5 trying to kill you.” She swung with a closed fist but Tyler was quick, grabbing her arms and pinning them to her sides. “You lost your friends but you didn’t fucking watch them die. You have no right,” Meg suddenly hit a wall, losing all her steam. Her angry shouts turned into heart-wrenching sobs. “I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!” She kept repeating the words.

“I’m sorry, Meg.” She barely heard Javi’s words over her own crying and didn’t bother to look up at him. Tyler caught her when her knees gave out, holding Meg tightly to his chest.

“How could he?” Meg sobbed, digging her fingers into his torn shirt. “T-Ty?” 

“I’m here, darlin’,” He kissed the top of her head. “I’m right here with you, what do you need?” 

“Get me outta here.” Tyler didn’t need to be told twice. He swept her into his arms, hustling through the debris until he got to the camper. Boone and Dexter had already begun setting up relief outside, shooting Meg worried glances that she responded to with watery smiles. 

“Let’s get you into something warm, Oklahoma.” He put her down on the small couch inside and she watched him dig through everyone’s bags before offering her a bundle of clothes. There wasn’t a bathroom in the camper so he turned his back while she quickly changed into what seemed to be his boxers, Dani’s sweats, and one of Boone’s flannels.

“You should change too, Ty, I’ll, um, cover my eyes.” Not long later, Tyler was sitting on the couch beside her, bringing her onto his lap in a hug. “I need to go after Kate.” Meg muttered into his shoulder, I don’t want her blamin’ herself.” 

“We’ll go first thing in the morning but darlin’, you need to sleep.” Meg wanted to argue but she knew he was right, exhaustion rolling over her as she had just pulled a 12-hour shift on the ambulance.

“I don’t wanna be alone right now, Ty.” Meg looked up at him, knowing her eyes were red and there was most definitely mud staining her cheeks, making her look like the creature from the lagoon, but she couldn’t find it in herself to care when Tyler was looking at her like she hung the moon and the stars in the sky. “Stay with me?” 

“For as long as you want me to,” Those words hung heavy in the air for a long minute before he cleared his throat. “We can sleep in the bed up top, come on.”

Tyler helped her up the ladder and waited for her to get settled in the mismatched mess of blankets and top sheets before joining. When Tyler climbed beneath the sheets, resting comfortably on his back, Meg curled into his side, resting her head on his chest. Neither of them said a word and Meg was glad, knowing if she said another word, she’d probably start crying again.

Taglist: @theforevermorereject @beltzboys2015-blog @writingrose @sinners-98-world @nerdgirljen @candlejuice @a-court-of-roscoe-and-baby @football1921 @katiemcrae @emma8895eb @itsdesiree86

Next Chapter

[flashbastardsramblings]

No, but regardless of how season 2 ended, I believe this is a huge win for the queer community. I mean, after decades of being ignored, baited and made fun of we finally won.

We knew they weren't trying to gaslight us, but can you blame us for still being cautious and careful after Destiel, Jonlock and all the other queer people that were used as bait?

After spending years begging for scraps of queer representation, for a way to be seen and feel validated, we were finally vindicated.

Yes, the finale did break my fucking heart, but i also want to get out and scream “WE WON. FINALLY AFTER YEARS OF BEING GIVEN FALSE HOPE WE FINALLY WON”.

The cast and crew worked so hard to give us a queer love story from start to finish and I just can't describe how much this means to me. I don't think non queer people can understand what it feels like to have it proved to you that you are not crazy. You are not delusional. This is real. We made something real for you.

I hope every queer person who reads this feels everything I'm feeling. Because series like Good Omens means that we're here. We are here and we won't fucking go anywhere. We are finally seen.

[awildtei]

Some very unpolished thoughts I scribbled down on my first read of the bonus chapters (SPOILERS AHEAD):

David

-Wymack trying to steer Kevin away from alcohol and into therapy feels a bit retcon-y. I know it works just fine, but I kinda liked that for all his good intentions and overall positive impact Wymack was a very flawed father figure, particularly with something he seems to use as a crutch himself like alcohol is.

-"I don't trust [Betsy]." Interesting in many ways: (a) that makes Neil the third, not second, team member to distrust poor Betsy. (b) he doesn't trust her not to reveal his secrets, so clearly he trusted her just enough to tell her those secrets in the first place. (c) I think it adds a very interesting layer to Kandrew's dynamic, both because Kevin sees Betsy as someone who could get in between them and ruin it and because it's a secret Kevin and Jean shared but Kevin won't share with Andrew (the closest thing to a partner he has with the Foxes).

-"No. Don't ask me that." Exactly what Andrew says on the phone with Higgins. The immediate refusal, the automatic yet almost panicked order... mmm.

-Maybe Kevin's age when Kayleigh died had already been confirmed somewhere but I don't think I knew it, so. Nine. Old enough to (probably) remember her pretty well, to have learned from her and loved her and miss her. Young enough to be shaped into a Raven.

-"but Kevin would always be different." "You're not just a Fox. You're Kayleigh's son." Kill me.

-Kevin's reaction to Wymack talking about his mom is very validating of what I've always imagined he feels about her.

-"When he started thinking about rings he put himself on a plane home." *Holt's voice* VINDICATION!! I've seen people shit on Kayleigh way too often as some kind of cold-hearted bitch who cut Wymack out her life with no hesitation, but he left!! He failed to keep it casual so he left!! "He'd never called her again."

-"Coaches have no honor." Considering what we learned from Jean about Raven coaches... yeah, not shocking. (Did Kevin know Raven coaches were the exception while he was in the Nest? Or did he run to Wymack thinking all coaches are the same, that he would be beaten and punished but what made Wymack a good man was the he would allow him to stay? Did he have to slowly learn to trust that Wymack wouldn't hurt him like Jean with Rhemann?)

-"Your word is enough. Just yours." Throwignnn up :(

-"Nicky wasn't the only one so easily swayed" wait what. Is this about Andreil? Am I missing something? It's definitely about Andrew right?

-Nicky's terrible driving doesn't show up nearly enough in fics methinks.

[pistachiofiasco]

bathtubs, haircuts, storms

Pairing: Gilbert von Obsidian x Reader Genre: fluff, soft hours Words: 736 Warnings: n/a

Also on AO3!

here's another little thing for my beloved little menace man. fun fact but i wrote this before the forever with you story event but i wasn't sure about the characterisation. I cannot describe the vindication I felt at the discussion Gilbert and MC have about trust lmao

"I should learn how to cut hair, so I can trim yours when you need it." He gave a quiet hum, unresponsive for the most part.

You couldn't see his face from this angle, had expected more of a reaction, maybe one of those delighted smiles for when you showered him with attention. Rinsing his hair, letting hair as black as obsidian (hah) slip between your fingers, you frowned lightly at a sudden thought. "Nevermind actually. You probably wouldn't feel comfortable letting anyone bring anything sharp near your neck."

You'd said it mildly, as lightly as the real un-offended feelings behind it, but as you turned to reach for the next bottle, you felt him shift beneath your fingers. Glancing back, you found him leaning his head back over the rim of the bathtub, mismatched eyes locked on you.

Oh, we're veering into sulking territory.

You raised an eyebrow at him, smiling softly at the pout on his lips.

"Do you think, in this situation, that you're just anyone, little rabbit?"

"I'm not," you agreed, settling back into your seat and cupping the back of his head against the cold porcelain. "But you still don't trust me as much as you love me."

The pout slipped off his lips now. His face had the blank mask on again, the one where you always got a little too close, a little too quickly. His eyes were still locked on your face, and by now it was so easy for you to see the whirlwind behind them. He'd turn the tables soon, re-establish his control over the situation, redirect your attention, lock down the fear with a genial smile, like he has done for so many years.

It didn't bother you most of the time; you knew it for what it was. And you'd already promised to spend the rest of your lives proving he didn't need to with you. In this moment, it felt like as good a time as any to remind him of that.

Before the maelstrom could pick a direction, you leaned in and pressed a kiss to his wet forehead. Lingering, you smiled against his skin as your noses bumped lightly.

"Maybe I'll learn anyway." One hand still holding the back of his head, the other brushed back the strands sticking to the sides of his face. Another kiss to his nose, you sat back up. He was still looking at you (he was always looking, always, long before you ever even knew). "So that when I prove I'm right, you'll be comfortable enough to let me."

It was like being in the eye of the storm, a momentary pause in all the chaos and confusion. You'd managed to surprise him (you were quickly becoming hooked on the thrill you got when he looked at you like that, wide eyed and lips parted, especially when what followed it was that boyish grin that you knew hadn't changed from the past, even if you'd never seen it). You smiled, grinned really. Red and blue eyes had settled. This one was your win.

You gently tipped his head back up, fingers lightly working through the soft black to scratch at his scalp, just barely grazing his ears. The slightest flinch and a hand shooting up to grip your fingers. You froze, wondering if you'd pushed just too far so soon. But he simply tugged your hand forward, pressing it against his lips in an approximation of a kiss. You took it for the acquiescence it was, smiling wider. This close, leaning forward, you laid another few kisses on his head, against his cheek, finishing with just the lightest, mildest little nip at his shoulder.

The regret was immediate. You yelped as his teeth sank into your finger, a sharp "Gilbert!" ringing out, and you saw just a flash of his grin over his shoulder, mischief in his eyes, as he pulled you bodily into the tub, clothes and all. Spluttering, spitting soapy bathwater and your own (now very wet) hair, you could hear him laughing, the sound clear as a bell, echoing in the room. Not bothering to bite back your own grin, you splashed him, trying to stand, complaining loudly as he wrapped his arms firmly around you, dragging you back into the warm water, pressing his cold nose against your neck.

And the storm came and went, like it usually did these days.

the man has trust issues and we need to work on them, slowly but surely. I just wanted to give him some pampering, maybe during his recovery period, while he's still having small fits/bouts of weakness