#i have such a lovely lovely long fic idea for him but

[inknopewetrust]

The highest form of flattery is that in which someone spills their entire thought process into a reblog on tumblr and I. Fucking. Love. It.

I wrote this… oh my nearly three years ago and my Eddie fics are still my crowning achievement. Like you, I also have a very deep appreciation for the authors who take what little they gave us of him and evolve him beyond the screen. Who is Eddie? What can Eddie be in the minds of us feeble fans? He’s ours now, I suppose.

I almost don’t want to answer your hypotheticals pondering what becomes of them. I feel, even though they’re kind of mine(?) (fanfiction ownership claims aside) I don’t necessarily want to write them beyond the space because maybe my idea of what’s next is so unorganic that it messes everything up.

But maybe…

I can see them visiting each other as much as possible, making up for all that lost time. I imagine Eddie is utterly devoted and is a total “my wife” kind of guy. He wants to change everything he saw between his own childhood and the adulthood he imagined, so he tries his damndest to be authentic and real and vulnerable and loving to someone he knows not only deserves every bit of him, but who will do the same back. I can imagine holiday cards being send with cheesy catch-phrases and a J.C. Penny’s style photo shoot. And I think maybe he snuck in a line about having sex against a sink in the bathroom into one of his songs and the memory is woven into him forever.

Also, your “hello Shakespeare sit the fuck down” is maybe the best thing I’ve heard in a long time.

Thank you bunches—you don’t know how much a writer like me loves to read these kinds of reblogs.

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐨𝐮𝐭

Summary: Eddie Munson made it big. Now, when he returns to Hawkins for a hometown concert with his band, he is reminded of the girl he's been in love with for the past 6 years when Steve Harrington calls. Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader WC: 13.6k Warnings: 18+; Minors DNI; smut; piv; language; rough sex; bathroom sex (unprotected–wrap it before you tap it babes); some dirty talk; this is a whole ass fic. This is porn WITH plot besties. Quick Links: Masterlist

“You’re a pervert, Eddie Munson,” You laughed, he smiled.

“Well, can you blame a guy? Look at you.” The way his eyes trailed. He was hunting and you were perfect prey.

“I can’t really… but you can.” Your bottom lip passed through your teeth quickly—barely grazing it as the top of your shoe ran along the inside of his leg. He was fucked.

There were more than five drunks inside of The Hideout.  

The last few years had brought out a different side of Hawkins, hell, Indiana to this little bar in the middle of bum-fuck nowhere. It wasn't often that there were empty seats, that the bar wasn't overwhelmed with patrons, or that everyone inside hadn’t flocked to the dive for a taste of metal.  

Corroded Coffin had made it—in a… regional success type of way.  

Every year, the band returned to Hawkins after moving to the city to get more gigs. It acted as a reunion of sorts––bridging their past and present into a three-hour concert inside of a small bar where they had originated outside of Gareth’s garage. And much to their surprise when they had returned for the first time a few years before, the entire town had wanted in. For the first time they had felt accepted—but only because they had garnered some fame, not because they were cool, good people.  

And Eddie always felt that superficial fanaticism seep through the walls that separated the band from the crowd because the only people he believed truly cared for him and his music rarely came. Steve, Nancy, Robin, the gaggle of kids (they will always be kids to him) from Hellfire, and you. Separate ways had led to a hundred different paths and rarely, if ever, did he see one of them lead back to Hawkins.  

He had been completely and utterly enamored with you the moment he saw you stab a horrid, rabid bat straight through the eye. Eddie always wished it had been a more romantic story, but he had to admit it, you had never impressed him so much.  

And then you graduated. Went off to college and kept in scattered contact with everyone.  

But you never left his mind. As much as he wanted to move on from what he called a “silly crush” in retrospect, Eddie thought about you more often than he should have.  

And no girl could compare. He always pondered the ‘what if’ and he’d be lying if the songs that dealt with unrequited romance didn’t have anything to do with you. He was stuck. So incredibly stuck and didn’t know what to do. Eddie believed he would never get the chance to see you again.  

Until he got a call from Steve Harrington three days before he traveled back to Hawkins. 

It was out of the blue. Eddie wasn’t even sure how Steve had his number because he was always on the move—half the time he and his bandmates slept in their bus because it was one destination after the other. Nevertheless, Steve had managed to reach him and the conversation had been replaying in his mind non-stop.  

“Hey Eddie!”  

Jeff was standing at the pay phone outside of the Dayton club they had been playing in. Corroded Coffin had begun to make their way to Hawkins slowly over the past month and they were almost there. The set was half completed, and they were in the middle of their break when the pay phone rang as if they were in the middle of a horror film. They were all drenched in sweat and their limbs were killing them, the crowd was absolutely blustering. Their gigs had become what they had always dreamed—a metal rave of sorts.  

Eddie had been sitting on an overturned bucket smoking a cigarette when Jeff called out to him, hand over the transmitter as if his yell was going to change the mind of the caller.  

“What?” Eddie replied, letting out a puff of smoke that blurred Jeff for a second.  

“You gotta call! You’re gonna wanna take this one.”  

He made it sound as though the President was calling… not that Eddie would ever answer that call. So, Eddie got up off his bucket and let the cigarette dangle from his mouth as he shooed Jeff away from the phone. Holding the phone in one hand and lifting his other to lean against the glass, Eddie sighed and answered.  

“Yeah, this is Eddie.”  

“Ah! Guys I got him!” Was what he heard in return. There was a scramble on the other line and Eddie furrowed his brows, confused at the excitement. No one was ever calling him unless it was Wayne, a groupie he had made an empty promise to, or someone looking to book them.  

“Hello?” He asked more impatiently. 

“Yeah, yeah, hold on man!” He knew exactly who it was. It had been 6 years, not a lifetime.  

“Steve?”  

“Woah oh! Mega Rock Star remembers me? Woulda thought you’d forgotten about us in Hawkins.” He imagined Steve was a little drunk, smiling widely into the phone as the sounds of shuffling made its way through the receiver.  

“I don’t know if I’d classify us as ‘Mega Rock Stars’ but I’ll take it from you, Harrington.” Eddie grabbed the cigarette from his mouth.  

“So why you callin’ me?”  

“I heard your band is coming to Hawkins on Tuesday and we were wondering if we needed tickets or something to get in.” Steve sounded more distant, as if he was trying to get others on the call or at least let them have a chance to listen too.  

“We?”  

“Hi Eddie!” Robin’s voice was distinct, deep, and excitable through the static.  

“Eddie! You really made it!” That was Nancy. She was always a little more reserved than Robin, more than Steve, but still kind to him.  

Eddie moved the phone away from his mouth and chuckled. He couldn’t believe it, truly. He hadn’t expected to hear from anyone who he considered to be friends, who went through so much alongside of him, and helped him in a time of need but there, on the phone, were three people who had.  

“So you all wanna come? Is that what I’m getting from this?” He asked and all of them replied at once. Each along the lines of “yes” but scattered types of replies.  

“And if we could, I think a few others want to stop in too.”  

He hoped Steve knew what that made Eddie believe.  

“These others… they’re not just bottom feeders looking for a good time?” Eddie proposed instead. He felt a shot of nervousness surge inside of him. God, he felt like a teenager.  

“No, no…” Robin laughed into the phone, “they’re friends, Eddie. You’ll be glad to see them. Some are even traveling home for this so you better put on a good show.”  

Eddie knew Dustin and Lucas had gone out of state for college. He had sent them two records as presents and received a group call the next day in thanks. Eddie knew that’s who it had to be but Robin still said some. He was still holding out a little hope.  

“Hey Eddie! Come on! Time to go!” Jeff called out from beyond the pay phone. He was the last to walk back into the venue as the door opened to loud amps shaking the building.  

“Listen, guys,” Eddie said quickly, trying to use his final seconds wisely, “I’ll um, I’ll call the place after we leave tomorrow and get you on a list.”  

Eddie watched Jeff disappear through the door and knew his time was almost up.  

“I gotta go but just go to the bar and they’ll bring you in. I’ll put you at a table so you don’t get ambushed by anyone.” Considerate.  

“And drinks are on the house too.”  

“Fuck yeah!” Robin screeched and disconnected her line.  

“Sounds great, Eddie. We’ll see you on Tuesday.” Nancy said and disconnected herself too. Steve remained on the line.  

“Awesome, man,” Steve replied, surely nodding his head in approval. Eddie felt something lingering there but didn’t push. However, he did need the names.  

Eddie looked around him, trying to find someone who could help his pen-less situation but couldn’t find anyone. He patted down his jacket, the pockets of his jeans but nothing. And perhaps he waited too long, but Gareth came back out, looking at him exasperatedly.  

Eddie waved him over quickly. The dude always had a pen. He put the cigarette back in his mouth.  

“I’ll need the names, Steve,” Eddie said over the phone and shoved it between his ear and shoulder. Gareth ran over.  

“I need a pen. You got one?”  

Gareth summoned a pen from his pocket as though it were the one ring.  

“Names, Steve,” Eddie repeated, slightly muffled by the cigarette he tried not to lose.  

“All right, all right,” Steve fumbled. In his childhood home in Hawkins, Steve, Nancy, and Robin all stood around the phone counting the people in the party.  

“Me, Robin, Nancy, Henderson, Sinclair, Jonathan…” Steve trailed off and Eddie felt his heart sink.  

“That all?”  

“Um,” Steve was listening to the two women rattle off names, “Max, and Vicky… oh and Y/n.”  

“Y/n?”  

Eddie felt Steve was dangling a prize at the end of a fishing hook.  

“Yeah. She’s coming in from Indianapolis.”  

Indianapolis.  

“She work there?” Eddie couldn’t help but ask. Gareth gave him a look.  

“Yeah teaches now… English or… History or something.”  

“Oh,” Eddie answered and finished writing the names on the inside of his forearm. Gareth watched him write your name last, so clear, and careful. He knew now why Eddie was acting the way he was. “I didn’t know she moved.”  

“Yeah… somethin’ about wanting to be closer to the city or whatever… a part of me thinks she was trying to find you.” Steve laughed. Eddie didn’t.  

“What?” Eddie’s response had come out as a whisper of words and Steve hadn’t heard it.  

“So we’ll see you Tuesday, yeah? Go play your heart out, dude.”  

Then Steve hung up. 

And it was the phone call he had been waiting for hear after all these years.  

He played that Dayton show with so much excitement he made a girl faint in the front row… and it was all because of a stupid little phone call from a state away. 

The station wagon was packed full of a palpable energy no one could explain.  

It was strange; venturing off to a new adventure that wasn’t filled with danger together, but it was new, and above all else, nice. The memories that Nancy’s station wagon had held were far more interesting upon reflection than they had been at the time. And you listened to each story from the middle section, squashed beside the window between Steve, Dustin and Jonathan as Max and Lucas took the back and Vicky, Robin, and Nancy sat in the front.  

You couldn’t stop tapping your fingers against your knee.  

Robin was droning on about a Halloween party a few years back that you hadn’t gone to when you accidentally tapped Steve’s leg instead of your own. You shot a sorry look at him in a rapid response.  

“Sorry about that.”  

“It’s fine,” he reassured you, watching you look out the side window in return. You had been wearing a sparkly black dress––one Robin had swooned over in the kitchen with Vicky. 

From all the years he had known you, you were never a 'sparkly little black dress’ kind of girl to Steve. Except tonight you were. And he smiled at it. He turned his head forward and caught Robin and Nance’s eyes in the mirror because they were all on the same page.  

Eddie Munson had been infatuated with you for as long as they could remember and you, as personable and charismatic as you were, couldn’t pluck up the courage to accept the same about yourself.  

“Nervous or something?” Steve knocked your shoulder. You didn’t tear yours eyes away from the window.  

“No, I’m fine.”  

“You’re a little jittery.”  

“I pregamed.”  

“Where?”  

“With Robin.”  

“At my house?” Steve looked knowingly. You hadn’t touched a drop at his place.  

“Sure.”  

“Are you listening to me? What’s wrong?”  

You turned and looked at him, eyes a little spaced out from the present inside of the vehicle and saw not only Steve looking at you, but Dustin and Jonathan too. You knew the others were listening.  

“Nothing’s wrong.”  

Everything was wrong. Your stomach was in tumbles. You hadn’t seen Eddie in the flesh for 6 goddamn years and the last time you saw him all you wanted to do was jump his bones. So, how, in good conscious, could you look at the man again and think you wouldn’t feel the same.  

Surely he was still the same Eddie you had liked before… just a little older and a bit more sure of himself. The self-certainty was what you were afraid of, however. You didn’t know if you could get yours back.  

“If you’re going to lie to me I’d rather it be about something stupid.”  

“I’m not lying about anything,” you defended, eyes going stern, “I’m fine.”  

“She’s nervous about seeing Eddie.” Max spoke up from the back as she leaned her elbows in the small gap between Dustin and Jonathan. You narrowed your eyes directly at her, willing your mouth to open but no sound came out.  

“It’s okay, Y/n,” she reaffirmed your unvocalized feelings without hesitation, “things just got in the way last time.”  

“Yeah and I’m sure if he’s still the same old Eddie we know he’ll be head over heels for you,” Lucas supported her belief and you felt your head go hot. You couldn’t believe they were airing your dirty laundry in the car like this. 6 years passed and they still read you like their favorite children’s book.  

“How could he not? She’s still a fucking smoke show,” Robin laughed, to which Vicky agreed. Nancy tried to hold in her giggle but the eldest Wheeler smiled so widely you could see the lines from her eyes from your position in the car.  

“Listen,” Steve piped up again, “they come to Hawkins once a year… you don’t live here anymore, neither does he, and maybe, just maybe, there is a reason for everything to come home.  

“You sound like a horoscope, Steve.”  

“I was a matchmaker in my other life. I thought you knew that?” He narrowed his eyes teasingly, trying to make you feel less anxious about seeing him again.  

“If he is anything like he sounded on the phone, Eddie still holds a candle for you.”  

Steve hadn’t told you he talked to Eddie. This outing had been planned for weeks without so much of a word that anyone had still talked to him consistently—besides Dustin. Dustin certainly pestered Eddie over the phone about his Sophomore college problems. Eddie never knew how to properly reply to his concerns in turn.  

“You talked to him?” Dustin furrowed his brows at Steve as Robin turned around in her seat to listen, “when?”  

“A few days ago,” Steve was sheepish. He hadn’t wanted anyone to know he had extended his arm asking for a favor.  

“About what?” Dustin lamented.  

“Just about the concert, man,” Steve sighed, pointedly not looking at you.  

“And did he say anything of importance?” Robin pushed Steve as her hand knocked against his knee in a slap. He shifted uncomfortably. She had been on the call for 20 seconds, maximum, and didn’t hear what had been said once she hung up.  

“Well,” he started, “we talked for a bit and Nance and Robin were on the line too—“  

“For a second!” Robin interjected.  

“—and then he asked for the names.”  

“That’s all?”  

“That can’t be it,” Robin made a face, “you were still on the phone when we left the room.”  

“He asked about you, okay?” He gestured to you, closing his eyes in defeat. You stopped tapping your fingers and looked at him with serious eyes.  

“It isn’t!?” He folded his arms across his chest the best he could, “you listened to ABBA and Journey and all of a sudden in college you got real into metal and we all thought it was strange!”  

“I was expanding my interests!“  

“To get him!”  

“People experiment in college, Steve. In more ways than one.”  

“You’re telling me that you moved, changed interests, and then faltered back to the plan you had since you were five in the span of a few years? You went out there hoping to run into him because you didn’t know how else to approach him.”  

“You’re just being mean now,” you scoffed, turning your head back to the window. Robin and Steve glanced at one another before Dustin nudged him to do something.  

“Y/n,” he sighed, “we can argue about the past all we want but we are ten minutes from seeing him again and I don’t want to watch two of my friends, our friends, dance around their feelings again. For all of our sakes, just say something to him.”  

“Steve, just let it go,” you mumbled quietly and began chipping away at the nail polish you had applied hours before.  

They all felt a little defeated in that car.  

“Fine, fine,” he said and threw his hands up in exasperation as the others watched in a necessary pity. It wasn’t easy being open. It wasn’t easy being willing to show a vulnerable side of yourself that you’d been holding onto for years.  

“But if you do end up needing to pound one out together, there’s a great bathroom at The Hideout.”  

“Steve!” 

The Hideout and surrounding businesses were packed. Never, in all your years living in Hawkins, had seen it so busy and the thought that Eddie and his bandmates had brought this many people to a little bar made you happy.  

He had made it like he always wanted to.  

Steve had taken the lead once you had arrived and the bouncer at the door led the group of you to two booths just off the left side of the stage they had assembled for the band. It was already claustrophobic inside but the idea that you all had somewhere to go was comforting—quelled your nerves in the slightest.  

Jonathan and Steve had taken the liberty to gather drink orders and the group was split into two. The ‘kids’ in the booth closer to the front and the ‘adults’ in the one behind. It was easier to designate it that way even if everyone was an adult now. You sat squashed between Nancy and Robin, Vicky letting her eyes wander the room beside Robin.  

“You all right?” Nancy asked, her big eyes sincere, “Steve was kinda being a dick in the car.”  

“It’s fine, Nance. Really,” you played with the hem of your dress under the table. Suddenly, you threw up your hands and let your head fall into them on the table.  

“I don’t know why I’m so fucking nervous,” you exclaimed muffled in your hands, “it’s like my confidence jumped out of a goddamn plane.”  

“Being nervous isn’t a bad thing, babes,” Robin told you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. She looked at Nancy for support but she was lost on what to do. You had it down bad. “We all get nervous around people we like.”  

“That’s the problem, Robin,” you said, pulling your head out of your hands and looking her dead in the eye. “I think I’ve been in love with him since I was in high school.”  

Well, shit.  

“I’m sure he’s got roadies and girls willing to do anything for him and I’m nothing like them… I literally have a stack of papers to grade tomorrow even though I know I’m going to be hungover. He’s a-a rock star or at least on his way to becoming one.”  

“Bon Jovi’s wife was his high school sweetheart,” Nancy mentioned and Robin nodded her head. Sure, but that was a single case. A single case.  

“It’s just not the same as it was.”  

“Jesus, Y/n… could you be any more of a downer?” Steve returned with Jonathan in tow carrying a mix of beverages for everyone. “You need to get drunk because I cannot stand another second of you moping around like the world is ending. We’ve been there, we’ve made it out, and we’re going to have a good night and enjoy watching Eddie rock his fucking ass off like we knew he always would.”  

Steve sat beside Vicky and passed you your vodka cran.  

“And if you don’t want to get drunk, at least get some liquid courage to look the guy in the eye.”  

He lifted his glass once everyone had received theirs.  

“Henderson!”  

Dustin looked over the wall of the booth, making eye contact with you as if he was expecting something else but saw Steve’s raised glass and the others stood obnoxiously on their seats.  

“To old friends and finding the courage to get what we want.”  

“Cheers!”  

You downed the glass in one take. 

You stopped at 2.  

The drinks were strong and you still wanted to know what was going on by the end of the night and the moment the house lights went a little dim, the want to drink disappeared.  

When he walked onto that stage your heart nearly imploded in your chest.  

Everyone at the two tables squealed and cheered, their smiles contagious as they watched the crowd react to the band they had become. It was chaotic and full, filled with loud singers and louder instruments but everyone was having a good time. Drinks were flowing, the air was cloudy from smoke, and no one cared what anyone else was doing.  

You had never seen him so in his element. So confident in his abilities that you wonder where your own had went over the last few days. He played like his life depended on it, fully immersed in the music surrounding him.  

When he picked up that guitar and ripped the first chords, it was as though God had reached a hand into his soul and told him, play.  

It was intoxicating. Just the images seared into your mind as his fingers played deftly on the board and the way his smile could light up the room. He knew exactly where you all were and every now and again, he’d look over, intentionally, and you swore that every time he looked, there was more than just simple joy swimming in your direction.  

Slowly, you calmed. The anxiety began to wash a way as time went on and after an entire two hours of non-stop metal, there was a break. 30 minutes and the scene around you was still electric.  

Nancy finished her beer, snacking on some mixed bar nuts as she watched the water from the melted ice drip down your cup. No one checked back in on you, but they felt a shift in your air. It wasn’t tense or anxious, you had finally settled into the woman they knew—maybe with a little fear still lingering.  

“You wanna go with me to the bar? I want another,” she pointed to her beer as she leaned into you. You didn’t see why not, missing the glance she shared with Robin and Robin then shared with Steve.  

The trip to the bar was like walking through a maze. There were people everywhere and when there wasn’t a person, there was a table or a chair. You swore halfway there a piece of a girls hair touched your mouth because the pungent smell of hairspray was worse being consumed. And in all honesty, the bar wasn’t any better. It didn’t help that there were tall men trying to flag over the three bartenders or that some girl had half of her chest out to get free drinks.  

But who were you to judge? Everyone was just having a good time.  

“What do you want?” Nancy asked you as she grazed the taps just behind a few bodies blocking the physical bar top.  

“I-I don’t know, Nance, ah, um, I’ll just take whatever you’re having,” you replied, not really paying attention because of the people bumping into you from behind.  

Nancy, in her abundance of smartass behaviors, pushed her way to the front and after a second, a little gap opened up. She took the stool she could see and you stood next to her, your hands gripping the bar tightly.  

“You better now?” She asked with an eyebrow raised.  

“Jesus Christ…” you muttered, rolling your eyes.  

“You’ve seen him, you’ve sat there for two hours and everything’s fine. Just like we said.”  

“That doesn’t change how I feel on the inside.”  

“Well…” Nancy’s back perked up. You saw her eyes gleam, the smile on her face breaking across every feature, “Better boost your confidence, girlie. He’s coming this way.”  

Before you could question anything, you felt a hand on your lower back. You felt almost weightless. Like the room had paused and you’d remember that feeling of his hand on your back.  

“My eyes aren’t deceiving me, are they?” His voice was a little worn. The kind anyone would get if they spent too many nights singing along to songs or screaming into a crowd. “Nancy Wheeler and Y/n L/n here in the flesh.” He still hadn’t removed his hand.  

Nancy smiled wide, happy to see him again after so long. She hopped off of her chair, brushing beside you best she could to give him a hug. He removed his hand from you and hugged her tightly, giving her a friendly kiss on the cheek.�� 

You could see some of the other women in the bar. Their eyes lingering on him. They knew who he was; waiting for their turn to pounce.  

You felt the ugly bug of jealousy begin to grow.  

“Look at you!” Nancy leaned back, taking Eddie’s look in with all her excitement. “You did it!”  

“Not quite yet but I’ll take it,” he laughed, removing himself from her and she quickly realized she made a mistake getting up. Her seat was gone. Eddie looked at you.  

God. He had a smile plastered on his face. His cheeks were red, his hair sticking a bit onto his head from sweat, and he was wearing a worn Ozzy shirt under a new, perfectly tailored leather jacket. You wouldn’t have known that he was putting on a brave face. That his heart was hammering against his chest seeing you there.  

“It’s good to see you,” he started, his eyes wandering no differently than they had in any of your earlier encounters. He was quite shameless when it came to checking people out. “I wasn’t sure if Steve was telling the truth that you’d actually be here.”  

You tried to play it cool too, “and miss Gareth on the drums?” You smiled, unable to not match his own, “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”  

And as if it were second nature, Eddie pulled you in for a hug too. Different than Nancy, he wrapped his arms around your shoulders and you around his torso. Your hands splayed across his back, feeling the distinct texture of leather underneath your finger tips.  

Instead of kissing your cheek, he kissed the side of your head. Right where your forehead ended and hair began. You didn’t see him close his eyes to savor it. He felt you squeeze the back of his jacket.  

Nancy felt like a third wheel. But a giddy one. 

“How long has it been?” He asked you specifically, barely pulling away. He still had his arms wrapped around you and you him. “Six years?”  

“Sounds about right,” you replied, gazing into his brown eyes that could swallow you whole. The creases along the edges—smile lines, per se—were more prominent but he was one who couldn’t help but smile when he was happy. He was amazed by so much.  

You felt his fingers graze the spot where your neck peaked out from the dress.  

“That’s a little too long.”  

“Yeah, well…” you couldn’t help but glance down at his lips, “we’ve all got different things goin’ on now.”  

He repeated what you had done with your own eyes. It made some of the fears begin to wash away.  

Nancy looked sheepishly at the ground, biting back a smile. She took a second to look around the room and saw Robin standing above everyone else from the booth’s seat. That sneaky shit. Robin began waving frantically, calling Nancy back to the table in a haste.  

“Oh!” Nancy said rather loudly, pulling you away from the bubble you hadn’t realized you were sucked into. You let go of Eddie, pulling away and leaning back into your spot at the bar.  

“I forgot to ask the others what they wanted!” She said almost as though she was reading a script unnaturally. You frowned knowing they all brushed you two off.  

“I don’t—“ you began but she was gone before you could get a sound out. She was playing matchmaker too. You sighed, shaking your head before turning back to Eddie. He was already looking.  

“So, are you getting something or looking for the rest of them?” You asked, “they’re all at the first two booths over there.” A finger pointing in the direction of the booths led you to see a pop of hair disappearing from above everyone else.  

“I was gettin’ a beer,” he responded with a nod but a man clapped him on the back before he could continue.  

“Great show, man!”  

And then another, “Fuckin’ rocks, dude!”  

Followed by others beginning to realize that the man standing beside you was one of the members of the band they had come to see.  

“Can you sign this?”  

“We saw you in Chicago last year. It was great!”  

“I managed to drag my girl to one of your shows and she’s loves you now! I don’t know how I can compete!”  

Eventually it had become one after another and you wondered if he got this reception everywhere. You turned back to the bar and waved over one of the bartenders, a female, and was happy she could get you something. She put down a napkin in front of you. 

“What can I get you?”  

“Two Blue Moons, tap please,” you ordered and she nodded, eyeing Eddie behind you as he graciously thanked each person and tried to break free of their incessant badgering. He only had 30 minutes.  

“You know him?” she asked, pulling a cup from the wooden slats and grabbing the hose. Her head tipped in his direction.  

“Yeah,” you cleared your throat, “old friends.”  

“You’re lucky,” she laughs and hands one of the beers over, “everyone wants to be friends with him.”  

You turned over your shoulder and saw a gaggle of girls hovering. Their faces were bright and flustered. One put her hand on Eddie’s arm, which he took back quickly. He wedged it between you and the patron sitting next to you, leaning onto the bar so they didn’t touch him.  

But his arm was touching you. He was barely leaning into you, but you noticed. Your body was on fire any time he was close.  

His fingers gripped the bar tightly as if he was trying to disappear through it. The rings on his hand were less familiar but you recognized the pig that glinted in the light.  

“So they do,” you looked back at her and she smiled, “how much?” For the beers. She shook her head.  

“On the house,” she pointed at Eddie.  

“Thanks,” was all you could say in reply.  

Both glasses in your hand, you turned back around and nudged his arm that was leaning on the bar. His head immediately turned to you—hair still frizzy and wildly falling around his face as you held one out to him. The girls behind him miffed from the lack of attention.  

“Here,” you motioned for him to take it with his free hand but he shook his head, face going a little sour. You furrowed your brows thinking it had something to do with the beer except he tipped his chin to the bar.  

“Put them on the bar,” he said sternly, feeling the grabby hands of those girls on the arm that was free. The space was so confined he knew it wouldn’t end well with a beer in his hand.  

“Eddie!” One of them called and you could see it in his eyes that it was the last thing he wanted to do. He didn’t want to pay any attention to them.  

Eddie was learning the boundaries of fans and signing things. Saying hello, taking a picture were fine but the moment they invaded his space, the moment they put people he cared for in any kind of danger, he drew the line. Something inside of him told him it was building to that.  

“Eddie! Can you take a picture with us?” They had their camera ready, a guy, maybe one of their boyfriends, was holding the camera for them.  

He looked at you apologetically. Who were you to prevent him from making a fan(s) happy?  

“It’s fine, go on,” you told him with a nod, hoping your eyes conveyed that.  

They wrapped their arms around him. They held on tightly while he barely touched them. When the flash went off and nearly blinded you from the back, more people noticed he was standing there and you felt the situation was just getting worse. You wanted to stay here with him but not at the expense of your comfort. If you went back to the booth now, no one would notice.  

Scattered thank you’s from the girls were audible over the light tunes from the stereo that broke through the talking amongst the room. Some guys followed their picture by shaking his hand.  

“Hey, listen man,” Eddie started when another came up to him, “I only have so much time so if you don’t mind…” He felt he got lucky when the man understood.  

But good barely lasts long.  

Eddie turned around, looking you dead in the eye and you could see the drain it had on him. People were badgering when it came to seeing someone remotely well known. They were a new band, growing every year. It would only get worse the more popular they became.  

He made his way back over to the bar a couple steps away. His one arm resumed its place beside you and the other reached around you from the other side. For a moment, he had caged you into the bar and the courage and confidence you had always had didn’t waver. Your heart was beating so fast.  

He pulled back just a little, returning his arm in front of him and you realized he grabbed his beer.  

But he smirked. He was teasing you.  

“Blue Moon, huh?” He asked, savoring the taste of it on his tongue, licking the top of his lip as he observed the cup.  

“Well if I knew it was on the house…” you told him as a joke. He smiled and it met his eyes, those lines defined on his face.  

“You can blame Steve for not telling you. I told him it was free.”  

You hummed, looking behind him as that same group of girls remained.  

“You have some… fans…” you weren’t sure you could call them that. Eddie dipped his head, you heard the defeated sigh and he shuffled his feet, tapping on the bar with his one hand. The unintentional shuffle brought him an inch closer. You could feel the edge of his jacket—the zipper dangling freely—meet your arm.  

“They’re groupies. Well, groupies without the love of music.”  

“Yeah I can tell,” you met one of their eyes briefly before looking away. You couldn’t meet his eyes after the stare that girl was giving you. It made your skin crawl. “Do they always do this?”  

“Some are less aggressive,” he took another drink of his beer. You had forgotten about your own. “But they’re all on the same spectrum I suppose.”  

One of them moved and you didn’t know if you could take being berated for nothing by a girl who just wanted to get in his pants. She hadn’t loved him for years, you did. You grasped the part of his jacket that had been closest to you. Instinctively, he leaned in closer, nearly cocooning you into the small space.  

“How much time do you have?” He glanced at the watch that was on the wrist of the hand with the beer.  

“10 minutes or so. Why?” He searched your face, never missing your lips as he shot his eyes around.  

“Because that girl, the one with the blonde hair and yellow headband is coming over here and gave me the goddamn death glare when I looked at her.”  

Eddie’s hair fell from his shoulder and hung beside him. You could feel the edges of it meet the side of your face.  

“You have a dressing room or something…? I don’t know what kind of things bars have,” you were holding onto him so tightly.  

“Yeah they gave us a room…” he put his beer on the bar and stood up straight. He held out his hand to you.  

Six years. Six years you had waited for him to hold out his hand to you in more than a friendly way. There was something about the air, the tension you felt when he looked at you that told you this was the moment you had been waiting for.  

“Come on,” he tipped his head toward the back of the venue. You grabbed his hand without a second thought.  

You made it halfway. His hand had covered yours, holding on tightly and occasionally swiping his thumb across your fingers in comfort. You could see some of the people looking. You pretended they weren’t whispering about you. All you were thinking about was the perfect way his hand encapsulated yours when you were jerked to the side and his grasp broke.  

“Wh—“ he didn’t take two steps to know you were gone and at once turned around to see that girl with the yellow headband was closer to him than you were. You were apologizing to a table of fans as one of their cups had tipped over, the liquid dripping onto the floor onto your shoes.  

“What the fuck?” He barely whispered as he watched the scene before him. Eddie walked back to you, trying to avoid the girl when she cut in front of his path.  

She gave a big, cheesy smile, “you gotta minute?” Her gum popped in her mouth.  

“Wh—no, no, I don’t have a minute…” he brushed her aside and went to you, assuring the table they hadn’t done anything wrong.  

“I’m sorry, God,” you were apologetic for something you didn’t have control over, “I didn’t mean to do that. Let me get you—“  

“It’s on the house, guys, just tell them I said so,” Eddie grabbed your hand and pulled you away from the table before they could wrap their heads around what happened.  

The girl was still standing there as you passed again and she tried to grab your arm. However, Eddie was more than prepared to defend you—the only person he’d be willing to make a scene for. He pulled you close, turning to point a finger accusingly at the blonde-haired woman with a sneer.  

“Don’t fucking touch her! If I see you near her again I will throw you out myself, got it?”  

The girl was speechless and so were you, for far different reasons nonetheless.  

“Got it!?” He yelled at her and the people chatting in the area around you quieted. You put one of your hands on his stomach as the other one was clutched in his own. Your palm spread; it was telling her he was already taken.  

“Come on, let’s go,” you urged him. And because he knew it was the right thing to do, he led you behind a brown wooden door and the bright, fluorescent lights of the hallway to the dressing rooms was never so greatly welcomed. 

Eddie didn’t know how one moment years in the making could change the course of his personal life.  

From the time he left Hawkins with Corroded Coffin to make it big, his mind was jumbled; lost in differing aspects from friends he had been leaving behind and a system of systemic poverty that had failed him. Somewhere inside of The Hideout Eddie felt his luck shifting. Maybe it was your hand in his being strung along the bright hallway, or maybe it was the fact he had grown into his confidence and could stick up for himself and you without fear of retaliation because he was no longer at the bottom of the food chain.  

It was a redemption of sorts.  

“Eddie, Eddie,” he heard his name being called but blood was pounding in his ears. He couldn’t believe the audacity of people when they didn’t have a relation or acquaintanceship with someone. You see people on TV or hear them on the radio and suddenly, it’s as if they’re not truly a person anymore. It was the downside, the absolute bottom of the barrel feeling, when it came to pursuing his dreams.  

“Hey, hey, Eddie, wait a second,” your voice was firmer, a light pull back on the grip he had on your hand, and he stopped. He had always been good at keeping others’ comfort at the top of his list and he wasn’t going to stop just because he was a bit angry.  

“Just wait,” you breathed, finally catching up to him and staying so close.  

“It’s fine, okay?” You were concerned. He could see it in your face. This isn’t how he planned to see you again. In fact, he had been so nervous he smoked two blunts instead of one before the show. He was surprised that it didn’t mellow him out more.  

“I’m fine, you’re fine. Just let it go.”  

“She had no right to touch you like that,” if your voice had been firm, his was unmoving. It was steadfast in leveled anger that boundaries were breeched and it could have gone a lot worse than it had.  

“She didn’t hurt me if that’s what you want to hear.”  

Eddie didn’t know what he wanted to hear. He wanted to hear that you were fine; he wanted to hear that you were happy; he wanted to hear that what he did was fucking hot and maybe, just maybe you would give him a chance if he took it. Eddie Munson wanted to hear the reason why you hadn’t reached out to him for six goddamn years while life continued to turn.  

He had so many question and he had been overthinking them for days.  

He ran a hand through his frizzy waves and held them intertwined above his head.  

“Steve told me you moved to Indy to find me.”  

If you were a ghost, now was the time to disappear.  

“Is that true?”  

You put your hands on your hips and looked anywhere but him.  

“Y/n, if it’s not true just say so and you can go back to them but if it’s not, tell me. Please.” You never thought Eddie would be one to beg. But here he was, standing in front of you, begging, for you to tell him.  

The dance between you two had been a long and winding road. Stolen glances, touches that lasted too long, and the palpable tension your friends felt was enough to shoot off fireworks between you. It was electric, sizzling, majestic. There wasn’t a day that you didn’t think about what he was doing, who he might be with—and it was no surprise that Eddie often wondered the same of you.  

“Is that why you asked about me on the phone? Because you thought I had followed you out there?”  

“No,” he shook his head, dropping his hands.  

“I asked because I wanted to know if you had a reason for never contacting me. I thought we were friends, at least friends who would keep in touch.”  

“I never knew what to say,” you admitted as your head dropped to glance at the floor. Beer was still shining up at you on your glossy shoes. “I feel like there was almost too much that no words would come out.”  

Eddie nodded—knowing well you had not answered his question. “Did you think I wouldn’t remember you or somethin’? I can tell you that would never happen.” He laughed at the thought.  

“That wasn’t it… I don’t really know how to explain it,” you knew exactly how to explain it.  

‘Eddie, I’ve been in love with you for years and I was afraid you had moved on to other women because they were your style.’  

‘Eddie, I would do anything for you but I’m scared of my feelings not being validated.’  

“Well, you’re here now,” he proposed with a rather hopeful look on his face, “you still smoke or is that too metal for you now?” 

“How could I? My dealer ran off to be a superstar.”  

“Well,  I’m here now and got a bag of weed in my case. What do you say to that?”  

“I say it’s not going to smoke itself.”  

The dressing room was small. Littered with equipment and travel bags. A dirty mirror hung on the furthest wall from the door and each member of the band was crammed inside. Eddie opened the door with a push as an unknown stickiness had caught the seal. Each guy looked up at the intruder.  

“Hey, we were looking for you,” Jeff said and reached for water on the table. “We go back on in five.”  

Eddie nodded mindlessly as he opened the door further to let you slip under his arm and into the room. The two that you had gone to high school with smiled widely––having known that Eddie was absolutely soaring on the inside. The band had found two other members you didn’t know after they had escaped the grasp of Hawkins’ hell and they sat chatting on a sofa.  

“You’re shitting me right now!” Gareth said, getting up from his stool and grabbing his glass that sat on the table beside Jeff. “I thought you said she wasn’t coming!”  

He had talked about you. Recently. 

“I said I wasn’t sure!” Eddie corrected him and led you to the corner where he stored his things. You hopped onto the vanity and felt like a spotlight was on you from the bulb of lights. “Besides, it’s none of your business anyway,” Eddie occupied himself searching through one of his cases for the weed.  

“We go on in five minutes, man. Did you not hear Jeff?”  

“I heard you, I heard you,” Eddie mumbled and grasped a tin with certain fingers. It was an old snuff can that had become so worn down that the branding was gone. Eddie opened the lid and pulled out one of the rolled joints he had stored inside. He lifted it to his lips before turning back to Gareth.  

He took a second, glancing over at you as you picked at your nail polish and walked over to Jeff and Gareth instead. The other two outside of the circle knew not to get in between the lifelong friends. You couldn’t hear their mumbles but Eddie was rather animated in his movements.  

“Listen, I just need like… a half hour. Give me a half hour and I’ll owe you big time. Just give me this.”  

The two wanted to argue. They wanted to be a band that didn’t have members who caused issues but they saw the look in Eddie’s eyes. They knew how much he liked you and with how much he talked about you, they couldn’t not give him the chance. The band came to Hawkins once every year and who knows if Eddie would get the chance again.  

Jeff checked his watch. They had to go.  

“Half hour. If you’re not out there I will come and get you, I don’t care what situation you’re in.”  

Eddie patted them both on the back.  

“Shane, Mickey,” Jeff called over to the other two, “let’s go. Eddie needs a minute.”  

And Eddie watched them leave the room with the blunt still hanging out of his mouth. When he turned back to you, the air changed too.  

You sat, cross legged and leaning on top of the vanity like a muse. Sparkly dress with shiny lips and glinting eyes, it was intoxicating. He grabbed the stool Jeff was sitting on and placed it in front of you—just close enough where his knees tapped your leg as he spread out; unashamed that he was man-spreading right where you slotted between him. He drew a lighter from his jacket and lit the blunt. With a puff he passed it to you.  

“They willingly accepted your disappearance?” You questioned, blowing smoke off to the side in the most glamorous way he had ever seen.  

“Only for a bargain. You know them… always looking for a steal…” he watched your lips purse around the stick—plump and inviting. “Besides, they had a good enough conscious to let this one slide.”  

“Why? Because it’s just silly ol’ me?” You fluttered your eyelashes, smiling at him with perfect poise before passing back the blunt. His fingers grazed yours.  

“It’s never just ‘silly ol’ you’” he repeated, “you fuckin’… light up the room when you walk in. So, no.”  

You tried to hide your smile, but it was hard when he was so blatant.  

“You know I was nervous about tonight,” you admitted sheepishly, “felt like you had forgotten about us now that you made a name for yourself.”  

“I told you that would never happen.”  

“Yeah, but the mind has a funny way of playing tricks on us like that.”  

“There could be a million people in a room, and I’d still find you right away, Y/n,” Eddie’s eyes were filled with something you couldn’t quite place. Kindness and sincerity aside, the man was not quiet about his wants or needs. You just hadn’t allowed yourself to accept them because you were scared about letting someone in. Someone that you liked a lot and someone you knew could make you happy.  

Happiness made people vulnerable. Vulnerable people got hurt.  

“So you did ask about me? Wanted to know what I was up to?” You inquired.  

“Did you move to the city for me?” He asked instead.  

“It was part of it, yeah.” It was the answer he wanted.  

“Why didn’t you call?”  

You laughed, taking the blunt back, and taking a minute to think of a comprehensive answer. “I didn’t call because I was scared of being one of them,” you pointed to the door and he understood that you were referencing those girls.  

“They hounded you like you were Bruce Springsteen…how was I supposed to compete with that or be something different?”  

If he hadn’t known for certain that you held a candle for him as he did you, he did now. He was relieved in a sense.  

“I think it’s funny,” he watched as you unfolded your legs, the dress hiking up in the slightest as you moved forward on the vanity. He also felt the choice to man-spread before you were beginning to be a mistake if anything went wrong. He wouldn’t be able to hide anything. “That you’d think you would be like them… you’re nothing like them.”  

“And what am I like?”  

Your confidence had returned. A flirtatious smile played at your lips when you swung your leg just enough to let the outline of your shoe rub against his pants. The blunt was still burning between your fingertips.  

Eddie knew it was now or never. So he let loose too.  

“What are you like?” He looked inquisitively at you. A finger tapping on his chin as if he was deep in thought for a moment. “I think the obvious is smart and pretty… but not school girl kind of pretty.”  

“No?”  

“No…” he shook his head, “the pretty that doesn’t think she is. The kind that is too kind to accept a compliment but should know she’s more than that.”  

“More than pretty?” Your face was hot. You could feel the fire burning within you. Eddie Munson calling you pretty as he spread before you and shared a blunt while the beginnings of his bands second set began to shake the room.  

“Beautiful.”  

“Beautiful?”  

“Gorgeous.”  

“Gorgeous?”  

You repeated the words slowly. He couldn’t help the smile on his own face. His cheeks were red, the hands folded in his lap were sweaty but he would never admit that.  

“The mostest.” You laughed at his grammar. It was technically true, it just sounded awkward. 

“Fucking beautiful.”  

You didn’t repeat that.  

“You, Y/n, are the most fucking beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in my entire life and I’ve thought that for six years.”  

“Six?”  

“Since you jumped into the water at Lover’s Lake to save Steve.”  

God, it felt like yesterday.  

“And do you know what?” He questioned, not expecting you to respond, “I have thought about you ever single day since.”  

“Every day?”  

“Each one. And when I was on stage, I looked. Hoping maybe you’d show up one day. I thought about you when I was alone… when I had company…”  

“You’re a pervert, Eddie Munson,” You laughed, he smiled.  

“Well, can you blame a guy? Look at you.” The way his eyes trailed. He was hunting and you were perfect prey.  

“I can’t really… but you can.” Your bottom lip passed through your teeth quickly—barely grazing it as the top of your shoe ran along the inside of his leg. He was fucked.  

“I can. I do.”  

“Why has it taken this long to admit it?”  

“Time wasn’t always on our side…” he sucked in a breath when you put the blunt out right on the counter top. It made a sickening sizzle, burning black onto its white finish. He would probably be charged for that but in the moment he didn’t care.  

“But we’re here now…” you proposed. You moved forward again, barely touching him until you got to your feet and stood in front of him. “Time can stand still for a little while…”  

You were waiting on him to make the move.  

He stood from the stool, pushing it backwards with his foot. He was close again, just as he had been at the bar but this time there wasn’t anything stopping him. No one in his way and for the remaining minutes he had been granted, he had only you.  

Eddie’s hands cupped your face.  

“You’d never be one of them, baby,” you just about fell over, “you’ve always been my number one girl.”  

“And does that come with a prize?”  

“Only the best.”  

His eyes never left your lips as he caressed your face gently, savoring the moment before both of your bodies gave into what they had been craving for half a decade. Eddie’s breath was hot, already staggered as he breathed in one last time before pulled your face to his and planting his lips to yours. You imagined it was what heaven had felt like if something like that existed. He tasted like beer and weed; lips a little chapped from days on the road but a pillow compared to others. He cradled your face with care—almost afraid that if he had gone in too hard the first time it would all be a dream and disappear.  

When he felt your hands creep onto his forearms, he knew he wasn’t dreaming. It was real. You were here, kissing him back in a dingy dressing room at The Hideout on a Tuesday evening. The walls rattled with a metal sound.  

Eddie moved his hands from your face to cradle the back of your head as he pushed himself further into you. Another hand wrapping around your waist tightly. You could feel him clutching onto the fabric of your dress, his fingers digging into the skin of your hip. With nothing to grab onto now, you enveloped his shoulders with your arms and tangled your hands into his hair.  

There was nothing holding him back, nor you, in that room. His hands wandered and groped, he sounded small grunts when you rubbed up against him just right or tugged on his hair just enough. You felt him hard against you, telling you without words that what he had said was the truth.  

You wanted this. You wanted it badly.  

The vanity behind you was digging into your lower back, pressing, and pressing with every movement and the world came back to you with the realization someone could walk in, and you weren’t about to stop if Eddie wasn’t.  

“Eddie,” you broke the kiss, murmuring his name as his lips found the sides of your mouth, your chin, following a path down your neck. “Eddie,” you said again with a pant, “someone could walk in.”  

He let go with an audible 'pop' and nudged his nose to your chin before looking at you. He was so close, breathing heavily as his tongue swept over his lips.  

"Yeah…" He huffed, the way his arms caged you in against the counter, "so what?"  

“I’d rather not give them a show if you know what I mean?”  

Eddie acknowledged that with a nod of his head, glancing in the mirror as he peeked around the room for a door that had a lock. The bathroom. The bathroom had a lock. He had found the solution, placing a delicate kiss on your lips—miles different than the one he had started with.  

“Bathroom good?”  

You brushed a piece of his hair back and he just about melted. “Bathroom’s perfect.”  

You weren’t even sure if he had locked the door before he had his hands and lips on you again. You hit the back of the stall hard but it didn’t matter because Eddie Munson was prepared to give you the time of your life in a dirty, more than likely unsanitary, bar bathroom years in the making. He was taking no prisoners in the way he felt you up—hands acting as a way to stake his claim from everything from your breasts to ass and you swallowed what you could take. Each moan he gave, every sound that levied on a whimper from you. It felt natural having him close. Having him give himself to you in the same passion that you were to him.  

When he went back to assaulting your neck—sucking at the skin to where your nails were making crescents on his shoulders through his jacket—you stuttered a breath.  

“I-I met a few girls who said they met you,” you admitted as he bothered not to stop, “they claimed you’re a real… freak when it comes to this kind of thing.”  

He thought you sounded adorable in the most sexy way. Nervous with a tinge of shakiness in your voice. Eddie didn’t care anymore what people thought of him. What girls said or what they tried to claim about him. All he wanted was to know what you thought, what you claimed of him. He had been waiting for that for six years.  

“They said you used handcuffs,” that made him stop.  

"Is there truth to it?" You couldn't take your eyes off his lips and you could sense he was jittery. Like he had 12 cups of coffee. His finger tapped against the side of the stall impatiently. “It’s a little different from the Eddie I know… one who liked D&D and honeycomb cereal.”  

“I still like that cereal,” he laughed. Eddie shifted his head to the side of your face, letting his mouth kiss your ear lobe tenderly. He still loved D&D too.  

"What kind of freak do you want me to be?"  

You tipped your head to the side slightly, running your hands over his chest and feeling the fabric of his rough t-shirt ride upwards.  

"I want," Your hands ran higher and met their position at the base of his neck. Finger nails disappearing beneath his wild hair and running along his nape, "one that will fuck me in this bathroom until I can barely walk… can you do that for me?"  

Eddie was nearly speechless. Nearly.  

“I could fuck you four ways funny and sweetheart,” he ran his tongue over his lips again, pulling back and looking down at yours, “you wouldn’t be walkin’ after the first one.”  

He was so close, his breath hot and brushing against your face. All the water seemingly drained from him as the need for what you were offering, sweet and plump, had become the perfect meal. Eddie’s right hand slid down the stall door to where it could barely graze your dress at the hip.  

You had already told him what you wanted. But he needed permission. He drew himself closer, pressing into you and you felt how hard he was in his pants.  

“You gonna make me wait forever, sweetheart? You gonna tell me what to do?”  

“I told you what I wanted,” your voice was breathy, deep. He could barely stand it. He could cum right there from just knowing he was finally getting the chance to fuck you.  

“You told me what you wanted,” he clarified, grasping your side tightly and taking the second you gasped to stick his head between his other arm and neck. His hot, panting breath on your neck now was all you could think about. 

“You didn’t say I could.”  

“Fuck me, Eddie,” you tilted your head to the side, letting his lips lightly kiss the skin there. You clutched one lapel of his jacket and reached up to intertwine your fingers in his hair with the other, giving him enough order to suck as he had been doing before. “Fuck me the way you played out there tonight. Like it’s your last goddamn night on earth.”  

He still had that wild hair. However, it was no longer in spite or rebellion against the system but a piece of his image. Only a man so engrossed in the sound and space of what it meant to be a metal, hard rock band could pull off the attitude and aura he exuded.  

He lifted up the skirt of your dress to your waist and let his torso hold it in place as he put both hands to your hips and pulled your panties down. Your breathing was staggered, half excited and half anxious to get him inside of you. He gently tapped your knee to lift.  

When he got them off he shoved them in the back pocket of his pants.  

“I’m keepin’ those.” 

The dress had fallen back down but as he rose to his feet, his fingers painted a path to its edge, driving it upwards and this time, there was nothing restricting his path to you.  

“Baby, you been hidin’ this perfect fucking pussy all these years?”  

Fuck. You felt a fire ignite within you. You knew Eddie Munson had a flare for theatrics; that he was eccentric, and maybe a little insane, but the second his hands touched your body—you felt the satanic panic infiltrate your soul.  

“Eddie,” you whined as one of his hands grew closer to your center and the other kept guiding your dress up. “Stop with your goddamn teasing and fuck me.”  

He would never deny a command from a lady like you.  

Eddie let his fingers descend, pressing his lips to your neck then chin as your breathing hitched right at the precipice. His entire hand cupped you with pressure that made your toes curl.  

“Sh-shit…” you gasped. His smile on your neck was rewarding.  

“Shit is right, Y/n,” Eddie’s fingers spread a bit, two fingers threatening to enter while the others pulled apart your folds. His thumb worked to find your clit without guidance of his eyes. All he needed from you was to tell him when and it took him little time.  

You jolted into him, lolling your head into his chest, and breathing deeply and his lips lost their traction on your neck. He could feel your trembling fingers holding onto him. If he had been 16, he would have came in his pants at the sheer desperation you were giving. The music of heavy metal mixing with the sounds of your pleasure were dizzying. Eddie guided two of his fingers into you.  

“Jesus Christ…” you blurted out as your head pulled back from him and went back against the stall. He was watching you with such precision that you felt hot under his gaze. His fingers were moving swiftly, feeling every part of you as he watched your chest heave and face go slack.  

“You’re so fucking wet, sweetheart. God damn.” He pushed his fingers further into you, curling them the best he could to get you there. He wanted to fuck you but couldn’t tear his eyes away from your wanton face. Eddie’s free hand gripped the base of your neck. His thumb running along the length and applying pressure. “So wet for me, huh?”  

Your eyes were clouded with delirium. He had taken you there with a simple touch. You didn’t know how you would last if he truly took the time to worship you. Eddie could send you to an early grave and you’d say ‘thank you for a fantastic time.’ 

“Always for you,” you whimpered carelessly, “I’ll always be for you.”  

“You really—“ he grunted when your hand tangled in his shirt and nicked the necklace he was wearing. It pulled on his neck. “You really want me to fuck you here?” He flicked your bud making you cry out. “Bend you over like the dirty fucking girl you are?”  

You pulled his shirt, the necklace too, and let his body lay against yours. The only feeling of his hand continuing to pleasure you and his hard dick in his pants reminding you that you wanted something more. His forehead met yours and it was soft in the hardness of lust. 

“Bend me over that sink,” you told him, no longer fuzzy with ecstasy, “I’ve thought about you on lonely nights starring at me through a mirror as you fucked me.”  

He swallowed the lump in his throat that formed with your admission.  

“Show me that I’m not one of those girls, Eddie.”  

He didn’t need to romance you to show you that.  

Eddie removed his fingers with no warning and guided you to the sink with a quickness you had only seen in movies. He was strategic and defined, letting your hands grasp the edges of the porcelain sink that stood alone in the flickering bathroom light. You watched him through the mirror concentrate on undoing his belt, zipping down his pants and pulling himself out of his black jeans. For a second, you wished you had turned around. Wanting to see him hard and leaking for you but you also knew there was no way this was a one and done deal.  

Eddie would wine and dine you; he would take you to a physical bed and make love to you before he’d leave this planet.  

And he still had on his leather jacket.  

“You sure you’re ready for this, baby?” He asked, meeting your gaze in the mirror. “We only got so much time so I’m not going slow.”  

“Yeah, I’m sure,” your fingers had gone taut against the sink; gripping tightly and trying to support yourself as your excitement made you shake. No man had ever had the same effect on you.  

“You tell me to stop and I will, got it?”  

And there were few men confident enough in their abilities to extend kindness in the heat of the moment.  

“Yeah, I got it,” you barely got that out because he grabbed his cock with one of his hands, leaning over you to hold your hand down on the sink—his larger hand covering yours almost completely. He ran the head over your folds and you felt your legs shake.  

“All right then, let me fuck you like I’ve been waiting my whole life to.”  

And he was right, he didn’t stop. Eddie pounded hard and fast into you as if it was exactly that. He hit every part of you, stretching and filling you with a sweet sensation of adrenaline laced possessiveness that had grown throughout the evening. Every time he glanced at the table, the moment he saw you at the bar, the way you held onto his hand as he carried you away from the crowds just to have a second to unwind everything he had felt for you. As he gripped your hip and remained holding your hand against the sink, you could barely say a word for what he was completing in you.  

It was like a puzzle piece finding its home.  

“Motherfucker…” Eddie husked as he picked up the pace, watching himself disappear within your glistening cunt every time he thrusted back and forth. He wasn’t even letting you do much work at this point. He had taken every ounce of himself and poured it into what he had been waiting to do. Eddie Munson was beating to the course of his own drum, not the ones that rattled the walls and swelled through the air ducts to sound off the tile in the bathroom.  

You kept your eyes on him through the mirror even if the pleasure threatened to close them. He was in a zone; concentrated and using his body the best way he knew how.  

“Fuck–” He let go of your hand and slotted it in between you down your front. He brought his middle finger back down to your clit and your breath hitched, stuck inside of your throat. Your fingers were unstable. The grip on the sink wavering with every pounding step he made and the sounds of your wet slick combining with his force was an epiphany.  

You looked again in the mirror. Eddie’s forehead was resting on the skin of your shoulder as he continued to thrust.  

“Eddie,” you breathed out, “look at me.”  

Your words were jumbled. You didn’t know if it came out that way or if you just heard the voice in your head say it correctly, but he didn’t respond.  

“Eddie,” you tried again, “look at me.”  

Look at you–he did. He had. For four goddamn years because that's all he could do was look. Staring like a loser school boy who was infatuated with his unattainable teacher but in reality, the two of you were neither. Just a freak and a prep. The popular girl who was loud and funny but could never spare a glance to him until you had. Until circumstances beyond his imagination had brought him a group of friends that supported him, saved him, from the secrets Hawkins hides. 

His brown eyes blown wide and full, a bead of sweat dripping down his forehead as your glinted on your collarbones and the part of your chest he could see.  

“You’re so fucking perfect, Y/n...” He mumbled and laid a kiss on your shoulder. His eyes met yours in the mirror and he was close. The fantasy of the moment he had been waiting for beginning to catch up with him, the ideas you had planted in your mind for days reeling in reality. But you didn’t come here to get fucked and finish by looking at him in the mirror.  

“Turn me over,” you panted quickly, “I’m close.”  

He did as he was told. His cock slipping out for a second as he gripped both sides of your hips and turned you around. In any other situation, he may have been embarrassed about how much he was worked up, but this wasn’t a regular occurrence. This was an endgame for him. Some final quest that would lead his life beyond it with pride and a feeling of content. This was his one shot as much as it was yours. He guided himself back in, feeling you clench around him and lifted one of your legs to wrap around him. Eddie held it with his hand to help ease the strain.  

“I don’t want this to be a one-time thing,” you managed to get out with labored words. Your shaking hand cupping his face as he brought it close to you. Intimacy was no longer divided between a mirror. This was as close to making magic as it could get in a place like this.  

“It won’t be,” he reassured you with a kiss, “I’m not letting you go again, baby.”  

The goddamn pet names. You’d never tire of it.  

He felt you clench around him again, your face fighting the resolution with everything you had left because you didn’t want it to end.  

“Come on, baby,” he murmured against your lips, “come for me, sweetheart, come for me.”  

Eddie put his hand on your neck again, relishing the way your eyes fluttered closed as his lips egged you on with kisses and his hand with a bit of pressure. He would have time to show you what else he could do; to find new things together but right then, all he wanted to see was you fall apart by his own doing.  

A few more thrusts and he had sent you there.  

He had sent you to euphoria–the dazzling electric dance of fire that had been sitting, waiting to be awakened. Your eyes were shut tightly, hands gripping his jacket, and your mouth was agape, a strangled sound of pleasure finding its way out as he followed through with his actions as your orgasm had reached its top. Eddie wished he had a camera because there was no one else who could beat the way your orgasm made him feel.  

He was so lost in the moment staring at you that he had reached his own in a subsequent fashion. You heard him moan, something so many men had been conscious not to do because it was vulnerable, but you grasped him harder as he stilled. You were both breathing so heavily that you couldn’t hear anything else.  

All either of you did was stare at each other––knowing that what had occurred changed the course of not only the evening, but your lives as they were.  

“Holy shit,” Eddie whispered, feeling himself soften inside of you as your fingertips lightly ran through his hair.  

The music from his band was still thundering.  

“Yeah...” you repeated, “holy shit.”  

And he smiled, so you did too.  

“They’ll come looking for me any second,” he said knowingly. Jeff and Gareth let him have his time, but he still needed to play. He didn’t want to leave.  

You brushed his bangs away from his face gently. “Well, a band always needs their star...”  

You thought he was a star. A star.  

“Well, a man needs his muse too.”  

“His muse will be out there... cheering him on from a booth with both of their friends.”  

Eddie bit his lip, not wanting to go but knowing that he had to. He nodded, almost warning you that he was going to pull out and it still hadn’t hit either of you that a condom had gone forgotten. He tried to ignore the small wince you let out when he eventually did, stuffing himself back into his pants as you pulled your dress down and turned to face the mirror again.  

“Sorry,” he said both in response to the soreness he’s sure you felt, but also for the marks he had left on the skin exposed due to the design of your dress. You examined them in the mirror.  

“Here,” Eddie pulled off his jacket and was thankful he did so because he was sweltering in it, “take it and when the shows over, you come back, and I’ll take you for a drink.”  

A date of sorts.  

“You sure?” You caught his eyes in the mirror as he opened the jacket, placing it on your shoulders and holding his hands there.  

“There’s no one else I’d rather see wearing it out there.”  

“I don’t know if I could pull it off as well as you,” you laughed, your head shaking at the idea of you–someone who had never worn a leather jacket–wearing his. “I don’t know if I’m the type.”  

“Of course, you are,” Eddie moved to the side of the sink, letting your hands turn on the faucet and let the water run, “you’re a rock star’s girl so I need you to show it off. Besides...” he trailed off, hearing the door to the dressing room open beyond the bathrooms, “you could wear nothing and be the best dressed person in there.”  

A knock sounded at the door, followed by a wiggle of the handle but thankfully, Eddie did lock the door.  

“Eddie?” it was Jeff, “Time’s up, man. I know you wanna, well, you know...” he sounded embarrassed, “but they know you’re missing.”  

“Be out in a second!” Eddie shouted through the door and the handle went still again.  

“You should go,” you pumped soap into your hand once the water was warm, “you have fans waiting.”  

“Promise me you’ll wear it?” His eyes were hopeful. He had finally snagged the girl of his dreams. He didn’t need to define it to know you were committed too. “Please?”  

“I’m wearing it already, aren’t I?” You smiled at him, nodding your head to the door. “Go.”  

He started off toward the door and just when he was about to unlock it, he turned around, meeting your eyes in the mirror and coming straight back to you. His hands grabbed your face and pulled you to him, his lips meeting yours in a searing kiss. It had been the lingering feelings of love unspoken that had told him to do it. He pulled away first.  

“I’ll be looking for you out there.”  

“I’ll be watching.”  

The bar was as you had left it.  

Eddie made it to the stage by the time you had cleaned yourself up and became satisfied that your look was a bit different to the one you had begun the night with. The music was still loud, the people were still excited, and the two booths remained filled with your friends. You stopped at the bar on your way back for a glass of water and the same woman as before served you.  

There were still a hundred bodies lingering around the space, but a single open gap led you to her. She smiled at you.  

“You left your beer on the bar,” she said as her eyes narrowed, looking at the jacket you wore. You played with the cuffs as the people around you listened to the music. “Want another?”  

“No,” you shook your head, “just water please.”  

She nodded her head and grabbed a glass before filling it with ice.  

“Just friends, huh?”  

You shrugged, a small smile playing on your face.  

“Maybe a bit more than that.”  

The bartender gave you a wink as you left the bar to make your way through the maze of guests. You didn’t mind the water falling onto your hand as the people danced and forced your cup to move, thoughts filled with Eddie and the future of the evening ahead.  

“Hey!” You barely heard their calls, “Y/N! Over here!”  

Dustin’s screeching was the loudest, but you saw Robin standing with Nancy on the booth and their grins were huge. You reached your table and sat beside Steve. Robin and Nancy sat back down but no one said anything. You wouldn’t meet their eyes as you sipped your water. Steve nudged your shoulder twice before you mustered the strength to look at each one of them.  

“That jacket’s new,” Steve commented, and Robin could barely contain her excitement. She hid her mouth behind her hands.  

“It is,” you replied with a curt nod.  

“So are those hickeys,” Jonathan stated, looking around the venue after he said it and his cheeks went red. Nancy slapped his arm.  

“Got anything to say?” Steve inquired.  

“Nope,” you popped the ‘p’ dramatically, “not really.”  

Steve hummed, grinning like the rest of the fools at the table. You looked over at the stage and saw Eddie playing once more, catching him once looking over at the table and he beamed.  

“You know, Steve,” you called out to him but didn’t look at him, “the thing you said in the car, about the bathrooms... you were right.”  

The table erupted in delighted cheers. Steve patted your knee proudly.  

Six years felt like forever, but you knew, looking onto that stage at The Hideout as the man you had been pining over played his heart out, that it was nothing compared to the potential of the future. The clock reset. You were only counting the time starting now... well, the time that started 30 odd minutes ago.  

[daeniradraconis]

Age Is Just a Number…Right? - Luke Hughes

Summary: Luke. Age gap. Jack being a menace as usual, making sure you're not getting away that easy. Warning: Implied sexual situations, mature language, flirtation, age gap (6 years)

Note: Hey, lovelies! So, originally, this fic was all about Macklin Celebrini and Will Smith, but then I realized—Will is 19, and honestly, he’s just a baby to me. Even if he said he loves older woman. Boy go back to kinder garden. (Sorry Will, love you, I promise!) So, I decided to swap in the Hughes boys instead. I’ve gotta be honest, it gave me a bit of a headache. Now, this started as a quick, short fic. I swear, I had every intention of keeping it short. But, well… 7048 words later, here we are. I got hit with a ton of ideas and feelings, and the story just kind of... grew on me. You’ll probably notice the tone/style shifts halfway through, and I’m definitely sorry for that!

But hey, I hope you all enjoy it despite the wild ride! ❤️ For more fun: masterlist

The first thing you notice is warmth.

A heavy arm draped over your waist. The steady rise and fall of breath against the back of your neck. The scent of clean laundry, cologne, and something distinctly him clinging to the pillow beside you.

The second thing you notice—you are not in your own bed.

Your stomach flips as your brain reboots, sluggishly piecing together fragments of last night.

The blind date.

Luke.

His charming smile. The way his chestnut curls fell into his eyes when he laughed. The way he leaned in when you spoke, like you were the only person in the room. The teasing brush of his fingers against yours when he reached for his drink. The electricity that crackled between you when you finally caved—when he kissed you outside the bar, his hands firm at your waist, his body pressing into yours like he couldn’t help himself.

And then… more.

Your face burns as memory after memory floods in. His hands, his mouth, the way he whispered your name like it meant something.

Nope. Not thinking about that.

Carefully, you shift beneath the covers, untangling yourself from his hold. Luke stirs but doesn’t wake, his arm slipping away as you ease yourself upright.

That’s when it really hits you.

He looks so young.

His chestnut curls are a mess, his lips slightly parted, his entire face softened in sleep. He looks… peaceful. Innocent, almost.

A strange unease settles in your stomach.

Your gaze flickers around the unfamiliar room. It’s nice but lived-in—hockey gear shoved into the corner, a few discarded clothes on a chair. Your eyes land on the nightstand, where his wallet sits slightly open.

You don’t mean to snoop. You really don’t.

But something about last night nags at you.

Just a quick peek. Just to make sure.

Fingers trembling, you reach for it, flip it open.

And your heart stops.

Luke Hughes. Age: 21.

Twenty fucking one.

As in, young enough to still pull all-nighters for fun. As in, could still be in college.

And you? You are twenty-seven.

Oh. My. God.

Your hands fly to your phone as you furiously type out a message to your friend.

"WHAT THE HELL?! YOU SET ME UP WITH A 21-YEAR-OLD. I AM A GROWN WOMAN. I PAY FOR MY OWN HEALTH INSURANCE."

No response.

Coward.

Panic thrums in your veins as you stare at Luke—still peacefully asleep, completely unaware that you are having a full-blown identity crisis in his bed.

You need to leave. Now.

Right?

But for some reason, you hesitate.

Because Luke… Luke is the first guy in a long time who actually made you interested. Who made you laugh so hard you snorted into your drink. Who listened—really listened—when you talked, instead of just waiting for his turn to speak. And, well. The man or more like a boy, had managed to get you to orgasm. Twice!

Which, considering your track record, felt almost miraculous.

Your past partners had barely managed to get you there once—if at all.

And now you’re just supposed to sneak out of here like it never happened? Like he was just another bad decision?

Your stomach twists.

But then you glance at the wallet again. Twenty-one.

Yeah. You need to go.

Sliding out of bed as silently as possible, you scan the room for your clothes. Your shirt is on the floor, your jeans halfway under the bed. You grab them quickly, yanking them on with the precision of someone defusing a bomb. Bra? Found. Socks? One is missing, but you’ll live.

Once fully dressed, you tiptoe to the door. Your shoes. They’re outside the room. You remember kicking them off in the hallway.

One deep breath.

You ease the door open, peeking into the dimly lit living room.

Empty.

Good.

You take two careful steps out, eyes locked on your shoes near the front door. Almost there. Just a few more—

“Busted.”

You scream.

Not a blood-curdling horror movie scream, but a very real, very startled yelp that absolutely does not help you maintain any dignity in this situation.

Your body jolts like you’ve just been electrocuted, arms flailing wildly as you spin toward the voice.

There, sprawled across the couch, is a guy watching you like this is the best morning of his life.

Tall. Ridiculously handsome. Light brown hair, messy in a way that suggests he just woke up. Sharp cheekbones. Blue eyes filled with pure mischief.

And a smirk so unbearably smug that you immediately want to punch it off his face.

You clutch your chest, heart racing. “Jesus Christ, who the hell are you?!”

The guy grins wider. “Damn. Didn’t even recognize me? That hurts.”

“Am I supposed to?”You blink, still catching your breath.

His smirk falters for half a second before returning full force. “Oh, that’s good. That’s really good.” He tilts his head, studying you like you’re some kind of rare specimen. “You actually have no idea who I am, do you?”

“Why the hell would I?” Your frown deepens.

He lets out a dramatic sigh, like this is somehow the greatest tragedy to ever befall him.

“You’re telling me,” he starts, sitting up slightly, resting his arms on his knees, fully entertained, “that you came home with my brother, slept with him, and have no idea who we are?”

Your stomach drops.

Brother?

You knew Luke had brothers—he mentioned it—but you had no idea they were famous.

Your eyes flick toward the bedroom, then back to him. “You’re—wait, you’re one of Luke’s brothers?”

He snorts. “Wow. No recognition at all. That is humbling.”

“Should I recognize you?” You narrow your eyes at him.

“Oh, I don’t know.” He shrugs, mock-offended, but there’s a glint of amusement in his eyes. “I guess I’m only one of the most famous people in this city.”

You blink, a little thrown off. “…You’re a local weatherman?”

He chokes, eyes widening. “A what?!”

“You’re acting like I should know you,” you say, raising an eyebrow. “I don’t keep up with the news, but you definitely have the vibe of a guy who points at maps for a living.”

He definitely doesn’t. If anything, he looks more like a kooky stripper with an annoyingly fit body. But there’s no way you’re feeding his ego—this idiot would probably take it as a compliment.

For a split second, he just stares at you, his mouth hanging slightly open.

Then, as if the tension snaps, he howls—full-body laughter, throwing his head back and wiping a fake tear from his eye.

“Oh my God,” he wheezes, clutching his stomach. “This is the best thing that has ever happened to me.”

You cross your arms, trying to mask the irritation bubbling up. “Glad I could contribute to your morning entertainment.”

“No, you don’t get it,” he says between gasps for air, leaning forward with an infectious grin. “This is amazing. Incredible. I live for moments like this.”

You raise an eyebrow, your patience wearing thin. “Moments like what?” you snap, unable to hide the rising edge in your voice. Honestly, you’re just relieved Luke didn’t inherit Jack’s over-the-top, obnoxious personality. If he had, you probably would’ve bailed on this blind date five minutes in.

“Moments where I get to witness something so spectacularly awkward, so painfully embarrassing, that it will sustain me for weeks.”

You glare at him with pure annoyance. “I hate you already.”

He clutches his chest dramatically. “Ouch. That wounds me.”

“You’ll survive.”

“Oh, no doubt.” He smirks, and for a moment, it almost reminds you of Luke—though the two brothers couldn’t look more different. But that same confidante smile? It’s unmistakable. “Especially since I now have the upper hand in every conversation we ever have from here on out.”

“We’re never having another conversation after this!” You try to sound firm, but your voice cracks, betraying you.

He just grins wider, shaking his head like he’s heard that before. “That’s what you think.”

You exhale sharply, fed up with the entire exchange. “Look, I’m leaving. Forget you ever saw me.”

“Not a chance.” He leans back against the couch, thoroughly amused. “You’re trying to sneak out of my baby brother’s room like a damn criminal. This is gold.”

You scowl again. “I’m not sneaking out.” You fumble with your shoes, trying to get them on while defending yourself. Luckily, the hallway and living room are one open space, making your escape a bit less awkward.

“You literally just tiptoed past me like you’re starring in Mission Impossible.”

You groan. "I was trying not to wake him up." Rolling your eyes, you keep wrestling with your damn laces—of all times to betray you, it had to be now. Frustration bubbles up as you huff, "I need to go."

Jack cocks an eyebrow. "Why?"

You freeze mid-motion, exhaling hard through your nose. "...Just because."

"That's not an answer." His arms fold across his chest, his gaze pressing into you like he’s daring you to crack.

Your stomach twists. Heat rises to your face. You don’t want to say it, don’t want to give him the satisfaction—but the words rip out anyway.

“Because I just found out I slept with a 21-year-old, okay?! I’m 27. That’s a six-year difference! That’s a whole presidential term and a little extra! That’s a—”

You stop, realizing how ridiculous it sounds now that you're saying it.

Jack stares at you, blinking. There’s a long silence before you speak again, but his expression shows no understanding of the mental chaos you’re in.

You sigh and tug at your hair in frustration. “I wasn’t expecting this. I thought maybe he was older, and now… I just don’t know how to feel.”

Jack, for the first time, softens his teasing expression. But it’s clear he doesn’t quite get what you’re saying.

“Well,” he shrugs casually, “you’re still not leaving. You’re stuck here until Luke wakes up.”

“No, I’m not.” You shake your head, stubborn.

“Yes, you are!”

Before you can argue, you hear movement from the bedroom.

“Jack, why are you yelling?”

Shit.

You freeze.

Jack just grins wider.

You turn, and there he is—Luke, standing in the hallway, shirtless, hair an absolute mess, looking at you with adorable confusion.

Jack smirks. “Oh, you know. Just chatting with your date about how she was totally about to dip.”

“Wait. You’re leaving?” Luke’s voice is a mix of confusion and hurt, and suddenly, you feel a wave of guilt wash over you.

You shift awkwardly, caught in the middle of it all. “I just… didn’t want to wake you.”

Jack snickers. “Translation: she found out you’re barely legal and panicked.”

Luke’s eyes flick to his nightstand, where his wallet still sits open.

“…Wait. Is this about my age?" He sounds confused—adorably so. Too adorably.

You open your mouth, but Jack is already cackling.

“Oh, it absolutely is,” Jack says, shaking his head. “She took one look at that ID and nearly had a full-blown existential crisis.”

Your face flushes deep red. Jesus, you really can’t stand that blue-eyed bastard.

Luke blinks, then sighs, clearly frustrated a little bit. “So, last night was… amazing, but now it’s a problem because I’m 21?”

You shift uneasily. “It’s not a problem, exactly. It’s just…”

Jack grins mischievously. “Hilarious?”

You glare at him, a mix of embarrassment and irritation burning through you. “Not the word I was going for.”

Luke tilts his head, watching you closely. “Did it feel weird last night?”

Your face instantly flames. “LUKE.”

Jack cackles. “Ohhh my God, this is so good.”

Luke shrugs nonchalantly. “I’m just saying. You didn’t seem to mind my age when you were begging for—”

You lunge at him, quickly slapping a hand over his mouth. “Don’t. You. Dare.”

Jack, leaning in with barely contained joy, grins wider. “Oh, no, let’s hear it! This is the best! I live for this shit.”

You whip around, shooting daggers. “Do you really have to be here?”

Jack places a hand over his chest, feigning innocence. "Of course I do. I’m just the clueless bystander, watching your meltdown. It’s my duty as a brother. How else am I supposed to tease Lukey later?"

Luke licks his lips, glancing between you and Jack. “Wait… so you’re really freaking out over this?”

You sigh, your frustration starting to boil over. "I just… didn’t realize you were so young."

Jack snickers from the side, clearly enjoying himself. “Oh, no, I think she’s just overthinking it. But hey, it’s cute.”

Luke shoots him a glare. “Jack.”

Jack raises his hands, completely unbothered. “I’m just here to state the obvious.”

You groan, feeling a headache start to form at the base of your skull. "Can I just… go? Please?" The words come out sharper than you mean, but you’re too tired to care.

Luke looks at you, his gaze softening with that same sleepy affection from last night. You almost hate how it makes your chest ache. "You really want to leave?"

You pause for a long moment, considering.

And truthfully?

No.

You don’t.

Last night wasn’t just a fling—it was Luke.

Luke, who had you laughing through dinner, making you feel like you were the only person in the world. He treated you like you were someone worth admiring, someone worth cherishing. And when he kissed you, it felt like the first rainstorm after a drought, washing away everything but the two of you.

And now he’s standing there, messy-haired and sleepy-eyed, looking at you like he’s trying to figure out what’s going through your mind.

Jack, sensing the shift, leans back dramatically. “Ohhh, she’s thinking about it.”

You glare. “Shut up, Jack.”

Jack smirks like a little kid in the candy shop. “Nope.”

Luke lets out a heavy sigh, rubbing his face with both hands, his puppy like eyes softening as he looks at you. "Alright," he mutters, a playful smile tugging at his lips. "Let me make you breakfast before you decide I’m too young to function."

Jack perks up from the couch. “Oh, hell yeah. Stay. Luke makes a mean omelet.”

Luke shoots Jack a teasing glare, his eyes rolling in exasperation as he half-smirks. "Why are you even involved in this?" he says, clearly annoyed but with a playful edge, like he can’t decide if he should laugh or strangle his brother.

Jack shrugs dramatically. “Because I live for chaos.”

You hesitate for a moment, staring at Luke as you battle the urge to stay or run.

“…Fine. One omelet.”

Jack fist-pumps the air. “YES.”

Luke grins like he’s already won. “Good. Because I was going to make you stay anyway.”

—

You don’t know how you ended up here.

One second, you were committed to sneaking out like a thief in the night. The next?

You’re standing in Luke Hughes’ kitchen, watching him move around with annoying ease, pulling eggs and cheese out of the fridge like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Jack, of course, is sitting at the kitchen island, grinning like the mischievous idiot he is.

“You look tense,” he observes, propping his chin in his hand and resting his elbows on his knees. “Regretting staying already?”

You shoot him a withering look. “I regret a lot of things. Letting you talk this morning is at the top of the list.”

Jack gasps dramatically, clutching his chest. “Ouch. And here I was, being such a warm and welcoming host.”

You roll your eyes. “You ambushed me.”

Jack shrugs casually, sipping his coffee. “Semantics.”

Luke, bless him, doesn’t engage. He simply smirks to himself as he cracks an egg into a pan, clearly used to Jack’s shenanigans. “Jack, are you actually gonna eat, or are you just here to be annoying?”

“Oh, I ate already. I’m just here for the show.”

You narrow your eyes at him, a smirk playing at the corner of your mouth. “Seriously, what’s your deal? You get some kind of thrill out of torturing me?”

He’s an asshole, but damn, he’s the kind of asshole that almost makes you laugh.

Jack flashes a devilish grin, clearly enjoying the chaos he's creating. "You're sharp. I like that. Smart women are way more fun to mess with." He leans back, arms crossed, his eyes twinkling with mischief as if he's already plotting his next move.

Luke huffs a laugh, the sound full of fond exasperation. He rolls his eyes, his messy hair falling into his face as he nudges Jack with his shoulder. “Just ignore him. He thrives on being a menace,” he says, shaking his head, but you can tell he's not actually mad.

Jack grins even wider, clearly proud of himself. “Yep. It’s what I do best,” he says, puffing out his chest like he’s just announced some kind of grand achievement.

You rest your elbows on the table, watching as Luke flips an omelet with impressive skill. “Okay, I’ll bite—how did you get so good at this?”

“Gotta learn some life skills when you live with Jack. Otherwise, you starve." He shoots his brother a pointed look, one that’s half annoyance, half fondness.

Jack scoffs, dramatically pressing a hand to his chest like he’s been wronged. "That’s unfair. I provide entertainment." His voice is teasing, but there’s a clear twinkle in his eye.

Luke snorts, barely stifling a laugh. "Entertainment doesn’t make up for the fact that you once tried to microwave a frozen pizza."

Your head snaps up at that, eyebrows shooting up in disbelief. "I’m sorry, what?"

Jack groans, cheeks flushing with a rare hint of embarrassment. "It was one time, and the oven took too long!" he mutters defensively, but you can see the red creeping up his neck.

Luke smirks, his eyes gleaming with mischief as he gestures vaguely toward the stove. "You almost burned the apartment down," he points out, no trace of sympathy in his voice.

Jack waves a dismissive hand. "That’s an exaggeration," he says, clearly attempting to downplay the incident, but his voice betrays the tiniest hint of guilt.

Luke shoots you a sly look, his eyes dancing with amusement as he leans in, like he’s about to let you in on a secret. “The microwave was smoking,” he adds, his voice dropping low, the tone almost playful—like he’s about to drop some juicy gossip.

Your jaw drops in disbelief. "Oh my God."

Luke, clearly pleased with the chaos he’s caused, gestures at Jack with the spatula like he’s just won some kind of victory. "See? This is why I learned how to cook."

Jack grins wide, unbothered. "And I get to reap the benefits, so really, we both win," he says with a cheeky shrug, as if his utter lack of skill somehow balances out Luke’s culinary expertise.

You laugh, shaking your head in disbelief. "I don’t know how you put up with him."

Luke smirks,"It’s a daily struggle," he says, voice deadpan, but the small curve of his lips gives away the amusement he’s trying to hide.

Jack grins, shaking his head slightly. “Oh, the betrayal. I’m crushed,” he says, his voice dripping with sarcasm, though the smirk gives him away.

Luke just rolls his eyes and slides the finished omelet onto a plate before setting it down in front of you.

You look down at it, genuinely impressed by how perfect it looks. Then, you glance back at Luke, a little taken aback. "Not gonna lie… this looks really good."

Luke’s grin widens, his eyes briefly locking with yours, the kind of connection that makes the moment feel charged. "Told you."

You pick up your fork, still a little skeptical, and take a bite. Holy hell.

Your eyes go wide in surprise. "Oh my God. This is actually amazing."

Jack leans in, looking smug...again. "See? I wasn’t lying." He gives you a little wink, clearly basking in the moment like he’s somehow been proven right.

Luke smirks, pleased by the compliment. “I take my breakfast very seriously.”

“Clearly. This might be the best decision I’ve made today.” You shake your head, chewing.

Jack gasps dramatically. “Wow. So staying was a better decision than leaving?”

You pause, realizing what you just admitted.

Jack grins like he’s just scored a win, and for a second, you seriously consider wiping that smug look off his face.

Luke’s smile, however, is filled with pure happiness, as if this moment is exactly what he’s been waiting for.

You sigh, stabbing your omelet. “I’m never gonna live this down, am I?”

Jack beams. “Absolutely not.”

Luke leans closer, his voice suddenly lower, more intimate. “I mean, I’m glad you stayed. It’s not every day I get a pretty girl in my kitchen, making my morning way more interesting.”

You freeze, fork halfway to your mouth. His words hang in the air, electric.

“Oh, so now I’m ‘pretty,’ huh?” you tease, trying to maintain your composure, though your heart skips a beat.

Luke raises an eyebrow, a slow, confident smile curling on his lips. “Oh, I thought that was obvious.” His gaze flickers down to your lips, his voice dropping even lower. “You’ve been keeping me on my toes since I woke up.”

Your cheeks warm, but you force yourself to look away, focusing on your omelet. “Flattery won’t make me forget about you being 21.”

Luke’s grin widens, and he leans in a little closer, lowering his voice just enough that only you can hear. “Maybe not. But I think it’s a pretty good start.”

Jack, completely oblivious to the flirtation unfolding right under his nose, leans back on the kitchen island with a self-satisfied grin. “God, I can’t believe I’m witnessing this. I thought I was supposed to be the one who charmed the ladies.”

Luke snorts, rolling his eyes at his brother but keeping his focus on you. “Jack’s the type to talk about it. I’m the type to show it.”

Your breath catches in your throat. That was smooth. Really smooth.

You take another bite of your omelet, trying to hide the smile spreading across your face. “You sure you don’t just want me to stay for the food?”

Luke leans back, his gaze softening as he gently takes your left hand in his, his thumb slowly tracing circles over your knuckles. “I mean… if that’s your only reason for sticking around, I won’t complain,” he murmurs, a playful yet tender smile curving his lips. “But I like to think I’ve got more to offer than just my cooking skills.”

His words, along with the warmth in his eyes, wash over you like a wave, pulling you in deeper. You lock eyes with him, your breath catching as your pulse quickens. There’s something in the way he’s looking at you, something that makes it impossible to think straight.

Then Jack clears his throat loudly, and you break the spell, feeling a little embarrassed.

“Alright, alright,” Jack says, clearly enjoying the discomfort he’s just caused. “I’ll leave you two lovebirds alone so you can finish your breakfast in peace. No need to make me a third wheel.”

You roll your eyes, but Luke doesn’t seem to mind. He just shrugs, unfazed.

“Good idea. Go entertain yourself, Jack.”

Jack winks. “Don’t mind if I do.” He stands up and heads for the door, adding, “You two just make sure to keep it PG—some of us don’t need to see that much chemistry before our coffee kicks in.”

You watch as Jack exits, still grinning like the mischievous brat he is.

As the door clicks behind Jack, the quiet of the kitchen settles in, leaving just you and Luke alone, the lingering tension between you two impossible to ignore. Luke shifts, his hands still resting on your hands as he pulls you gently into his lap. Your heart beats a little faster at the sudden closeness, but you refuse to let the thrill of it distract you from the conversation you know needs to happen.

You take a deep breath, looking up into his eyes—eyes that are soft but hold that familiar spark of mischief, the kind that makes it hard to think straight. He tilts his head slightly, a playful smirk tugging at his lips as he runs his thumb over your hand, tracing slow circles. The warmth of his touch makes your breath hitch, but you bite your lip, determined to have this talk.

“Luke,” you start, your voice softer than you intended, “We need to talk about last night. About... us.”

Luke's expression changes, the playful gleam fading into something more intense. He doesn’t pull away, though. Instead, he tightens his grip on your waist, pulling you just a little closer, and his voice drops an octave. “I thought we were past talking. I thought we were just... enjoying each other.”

His words make your pulse quicken, but you hold firm. You need to address this.

“I’m serious,” you say, your voice steady, though your chest betrays you with its nervous flutter. “I need to know where this is going, Luke. You’re 21, I’m 27. That’s a six-year difference. I’ve been through more in my life. I want a family soon. I want stability. Not... something fleeting.”

Luke’s gaze darkens, and his thumb continues its slow, soothing motion over your skin, but there’s a new intensity in his eyes. He’s quiet for a moment, absorbing your words. The air feels thick with unspoken thoughts, the weight of what you’ve just said hanging between you.

“You think I don’t want the same things?” he asks, his voice steady but with a sharp edge, not defensive—more... thoughtful. “I’m not some kid just looking for a fling. I’ve thought this through. I’m looking for something real. I’ve spent too much time in meaningless situations to want that anymore. I went to our date because I was looking for something serious. And my friend told me you’d be looking for the same thing.”

He lets your words settle, his eyes never leaving yours. “After spending the night talking with you, I felt like I wasn’t just talking to someone who’s interesting—I felt like I was talking to someone who gets it. Someone who’s looking for the same kind of connection. I’m not here for something that’ll fizzle out in a few weeks. I’m here because... I think you might be the person I’ve been waiting for.”

His words hit you in a way you weren’t prepared for. You’re caught off guard, unsure how to respond, but something stirs inside you. Something warm, something you didn’t expect. You can feel the truth of what he’s saying in your chest, and for the first time, you start to question the assumptions you’d made.

“Yeah, but you’re still figuring things out,” you say, your voice shaky now, a trace of worry creeping in. “You’re just starting out in life. Maybe you don’t want the same kind of commitment I do. I need someone who’s already ready to settle down.”

Luke doesn’t hesitate. His fingers slide up to your jaw, his touch firm but tender, like he’s grounding you to the moment. His gaze holds yours, no longer playful, but filled with something deeper. Something real.

“I’m ready for that,” he murmurs, his voice soft but full of conviction. “I know what I want. And I want you. If you’re worried about my age, let me show you I’m more than just a number.”

His words are almost a whisper, but there’s a quiet confidence in them that sends a thrill through you. His lips are so close now, you can feel his breath on your skin as he leans in, his forehead resting against yours. “I’m not asking for a lifetime yet, but I’m asking for the chance to prove myself. To prove that I’m capable of giving you the kind of future you want.”

You close your eyes, your breath catching in your throat. He’s not backing down, and the sincerity in his words leaves you no room to doubt him. But still, you can’t help but voice the doubts that swirl in your mind.

“I don’t want to get hurt, Luke,” you whisper, finally letting yourself admit the fear you’ve been pushing down. “I’ve been through enough heartache. And if you don’t want the same things I do, if you’re not ready for it... I don’t know if I can take that risk.”

Luke leans in just a little more, his lips brushing against your cheek before he pulls back slightly, his hands cradling your face. He’s close enough that you can feel the warmth of his skin, the steadiness of his gaze. “I’m ready for you. Ready for everything that comes with it,” he says, his voice resolute. “I wouldn’t be here, sitting with you like this, if I wasn’t.”

You search his eyes for any sign of hesitation, but there’s none. What you see instead is determination—an unspoken promise that, for all his age, he knows what he wants and is willing to fight for it.

The air between you two shifts, the quiet between you no longer heavy with doubt, but filled with something new. Something that makes your pulse race.

“Okay,” you whisper, your voice barely audible. “Then show me.”

At that, his lips crash against yours, the kiss deep and slow, filled with all the unspoken things you’ve both been dancing around. His hands slide to your back, pulling you closer as the kiss deepens. Your hands find their way to his curls, tugging him in as if you can’t get close enough. The world around you fades away—there’s only the feeling of his mouth against yours, the pressure of his body against yours, the shared certainty that whatever this is, it’s more than just physical.

When you finally pull away, both breathless, Luke grins, his forehead resting against yours. 

Luke leans back a little bit, his eyes gleaming with that mischievous glint as he watches you, a teasing smile playing at the corners of his lips. "You know," he says casually, his voice thick with satisfaction, "I have to admit... I’ve never had a night quite like that. You really know how to use that beautiful mouth of yours."

You glance over at him, raising an eyebrow. "Oh? What do you mean?"

Luke shifts a little closer, his grin widening. "Well, I’ve had my fair share of nights, but... last night? You...You were next level. Honestly, I wasn’t expecting to be that blown away."

You feel your cheeks flush, a mix of embarrassment and flattery. "Really? Well, I kinda feel the same. I’ve never... finished two times in one night."

Luke’s eyes narrow in surprise. "What?! Baby, that wasn’t even that much. I think we can go for four or five next time." He winks, his tone playful, but there's a hint of challenge in his voice.

You laugh, trying to hide the blush creeping up your neck. "Is that so? You really think you can keep up?"

Luke smirks, leaning in just a little closer, his voice low and confident. "Oh, I’m definitely up for the challenge. You just wait."

You raise an eyebrow, a teasing smile forming on your lips. "Maybe this whole 'young boyfriend' thing isn’t such a bad idea after all... Good stamina and all that."

Luke grins, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Told ya!" He leans in, planting a series of quick, soft kisses across your face and neck, each one sending a delightful shiver through your skin. You can't help but laugh at his actions, brushing your nose against his cheek as your giggles mix with his gentle kisses.

Just as you're starting to recover from his playful assault, a voice slices through the moment like an ice-cold splash of water.

"Can you drop the sex talk, guys?" Jack's voice rings out from the kitchen doorway, dripping with disgust but clearly amused by the whole situation. "I didn’t need to know this much about my little brother."

You freeze, eyes wide, before you turn to Luke, who looks utterly unfazed, that smug, victorious grin plastered across his face. It’s as if he’s just won some kind of prize, and he's wearing it like a badge of honor.

Embarrassment creeps up your neck, but before you can even process the awkwardness, you find yourself laughing. The tension dissolves in the shared amusement of the moment. Luke just shrugs casually, looking way too pleased with himself.

"Relax, Jack. It’s called maturity," you reply with a wink, and Luke chuckles, pressing another kiss to your cheek.

Jack groans dramatically, rolling his eyes. "You two are gross. And seriously, for the future, we need some rules. These walls are way too thin. I do not need to hear you two in action. Thank God I wasn’t home yesterday."

You let out a horrified gasp, hiding your face in Luke’s neck. "Jesus, Jack," you mumble, half laughing, half mortified.

Luke just keeps laughing, clearly entertained by the situation. "You heard nothing. Just a couple of adults figuring things out," he teases.

Jack mutters something under his breath before calling out with a playful, exaggerated gag. "God, I need to vomit. You two are so disgusting."

"Guess this means you're sticking around, huh?" Luke whispers against your mouth, his voice low and warm, sending another wave of heat through you.

You nod, content, leaning into him with a soft smile. "Guess so," you murmur, brushing your lips against his in return.

Jack, clearly fed up with the display, huffs dramatically and walks away with an exaggerated sigh. "You two are the worst."

As he exits, you look up at Luke, feeling that warmth in your chest—the comfort, the excitement, all mixed together. You can get used to mornings like this, even if it means dealing with Jack’s teasing. Or, you think with a smirk, maybe you’ll just strangle him in his sleep. Problem solved.

Luke catches the glint in your eye and chuckles, clearly knowing exactly what you’re thinking.

“Careful,” he says with a playful smirk, “I’d hate to lose my new favourite person just because you can’t handle my brother.”

You laugh, pulling him in for one last kiss.

[nick-writes-stuff]

Safety Measure

Hwang In-ho x gn!reader

summary: You have been living with In-ho in his apartment for a year, still haunted by the experience you had in these very halls. When a breach of security happens, your life relies on the safety measures put in place to protect you as well as the fury of the Front Man himself.

!warnings: canon-typical violence, reader is manhandled and held at gunpoint, home invasion, description of a panic attack, hurt/comfort fic

a/n: YIPPEE! I love this one, guys. This is kind of a follow-up to One-sided Reunion, but it can be read totally standalone. (also yeah i'm implying the games work like the olympics, it made sense for the narrative lmao)

Things between you and In-ho had been going great. You had been living with him in his suite on the island for about a year now. That meant the annual game cycle had just begun. You were still hesitant about them continuing. You weren't entirely sold on the societal benefits of them, but you weren't going to actively try to stop them.

You weren't going to deal with the games this time. You basically wanted to forget they were happening. It felt wrong for you to do that, ignoring the fact that people were going through the experience that left you wishing to avoid them. You should feel vindicated to end their suffering, but you just couldn't. The idea of being involved in them, either as an aid or a hindrance, was terrifying to you. In-ho had tried to give you a tour of the compound once, and you got panicky the second you saw the pink, yellow, and blue stairs.

However, that didn't mean you were locked away in the suite all day. He showed you a way to get outside that didn't involve wandering through the familiar settings that haunted your mind. There was a beautiful garden area that you had taken up maintaining while In-ho was busy with the games.

He felt so much better now that there was something he cared for. The suite no longer felt suffocating and lonely. There was someone to return to. Usually the nights had been long and quiet and filled with a little too much whiskey at times, but now he had you. He could come back to the suite and let the mask go and just be himself.

And you were more than willing to be there waiting for him. Even if he had other responsibilities, he always made you feel like you were a priority because you were a priority to him. His devotion to you was greater than his devotion to the games by tenfold at least.

He was always thoughtful. He would take every opportunity to give you things. Not always something expensive or showy, either. Sometimes he would give you an origami crane he made while he was bored in a meeting or a snack he knew you loved that had arrived in the latest shipment that he definitely didn't go out of his way to arrange.

His thoughtfulness extended into anxiety about your safety. Since Gi-hun's attempted uprising, fear had been eating at him. They had been so close to finding their way into the management area. And also after his brother's stunt when he ended up in the suite. He was a bit hypervigilant at times, something you liked to tease him about occasionally.

So when the research and development team brought updated microchips to his attention, he was all ears. Everyone who worked on the compound had one of the chips implanted behind their ear, just like the players did. The new version of these chips included the ability to send a distress signal via pressure sensitivity. Rubbing your fingers over the chip with moderate pressure would be able to send an alert. They had proposed the idea because it would be a way to ensure protection without having an outside device. A phone or a button would draw attention. The person in danger would have a harder time hiding a handheld device and using it covertly. If they were able to use the chip, there was no evidence of the device for the perpetrators to see.

He rolled out the new chips for everyone involved in the compound. You received one as well, obviously. You didn't mind much seeing as you had already had one before. In-ho felt more at ease knowing that the key to your safety was behind your right ear.

He just wished he never had to see its usefulness. But what can go wrong will go wrong.

You had finished your work in the garden and had come back to the suite to start fixing dinner. It was a Tuesday, which was typically the day In-ho had a majority of the evening free. He liked having the time to be away from the games, having the time to take off the mask. You had quickly changed out of your clothes and headed into the kitchen. You washed your hands and heard the door to the suite open behind you.

You glanced at your watch. “You're here early.” You called out in a questioning tone. You dried off your hands and turned around, but it wasn't who you expected. It wasn't him at all.

You were looking down a barrel of a rifle, a man in black holding it toward you. You dropped the towel, lifting your hands into the air. “Who the hell are you?” You asked. You tried not to tremble. This was the first time you had seen a weapon since you were escorted to the suite after your time in the games.

The man glared at you. “I could ask you the same question.” He shot back. He took a step toward you.

You wanted to say something to him, but you couldn't get the words out.

“Here's how this is going to go,” He said. He closed the distance between you. You backed yourself against the counter. “You're going to tell me where my sister is, and I won't put a bullet between your pretty eyes.” He said through gritted teeth.

You flinched as he aimed the gun at your head. You couldn't look at him, too scared to look at the metal he was holding.

He was impatient and angry and holding a gun. “I'm not gonna ask you again.” He yelled. You let out a whimper, as if you couldn't look any more pathetic.

“I don't know who your sister is. I don't know anything, okay?” You said. Your voice was shaking as much as your hands were.

“Is she in one of these rooms?” He asked.

You shook your head. “I don't know where she is. I just live here.” You said.

He scoffed at you. “Bullshit.” He spat, "I know she's here. You did something to her." He was getting more irate, practically screaming.

You shook your head frantically. "I don't know, okay?!" You cried out. He rolled his eyes at you. "I'm not the one in charge here. I just live here."

He slung the rifle over his shoulder and pulled a pistol from the holster on his hip. He pointed it at you. “Get over here.” He ordered. You froze. “Get the fuck over here.” He yelled. Your mind was still frozen, but your legs followed his order.

He grabbed you roughly, holding you in front of him and pushing the cold metal into your back. “If you aren't the one in charge, you're going to lead me to who is.” He said. You were glad he couldn't see your face as you smirked slightly despite the circumstances. In-ho was the last person he wanted to encounter right now.

“I don't know this place well, but I can try.” You said.

He scoffed at you. "I thought you lived here?" He yelled.

"I live in the apartment. I don't go out there." You said.

He tightened his grip on your shoulder, leaving you wincing from the jolt of pain. "Awfully convenient." He muttered.

He shoved you forward toward the exit of the suite. “What are these rooms?” He asked, his loud voice ringing in your ears.

“They are just rooms in the apartment. One is a bedroom and one is a storage room.” You said shakily. He looked at you skeptically. He didn't believe you. He turned to open the door of the storage room. He was tearing the room apart. You didn't even know what was in there. You never bothered to ask.

You took that as your moment. You raised your trembling hand and dug your fingers into the skin behind your ear. You definitely did it with more force than necessary, but you just wanted to make sure you got it to work. When you see him start to turn around, you let your hands return to your sides.

He stepped out and grabbed your shoulder again and jabbed you in the back with the barrel of the gun. His fingers dug into your skin. You knew he would probably leave bruises. “Let's go.” He urged, pushing you forward. You were leading him blindly, but you hoped you would make it convincing enough for him.

–

In-ho was watching over the voting process after the first game. It was a rather tedious task, as he was really just watching a few hundred people getting in line to push a button. That was until he heard the alarm start to sound off. He turned to one of the managers, the blank eyes of the mask staring into the square outline. “What is that?” He asked, but he already knew. His blood ran cold, and he had a sinking feeling in his stomach.

“It's, uh-" the manager paused to think of the way to phrase it, "It's their alarm, Sir" You didn't have a title in the compound since you hadn't been involved in the operation yet. Most people didn't even know you were still on the island. Only a very select few of the managers knew that you were here.

“Where are they?” He said. The filter in his mask helped to mask the growing anxiety.

“They are just leaving the suite now.”

In-ho didn't waste time. “Start investigating the breach. You two,” He ordered, gesturing to the two triangle soldiers posted at the door, “with me.” He said. He rushed out of the control room. He had the upper hand of knowing the layout of the building.

You were trying not to lead the intruder in circles, but you literally had no idea where you were going. “Are you sure you're going the right way?” He snapped.

“I don't know the layout here, I told you that.” You said. You didn't want him to realize it, but you were crying now.

“You're fucking useless.” He hissed, digging the barrel into your spine again. You whimpered, scared of what he would do.

In-ho was able to hear that exchange, and he was seething. He pulled out his own revolver, keeping it low at his side, before turning the corner, and his eyes landed on you and the man.

The man quickly moved the gun from your back to your temple. You tried to flinch away from it, but he tightened his grip on your arm. He was using you as a shield, but he was looking over your shoulder.

You looked at In-ho with wide eyes. Your breathing was shallow as you panicked. Any source of comfort you could gain from his presence was hidden behind the mask, literally and metaphorically. You couldn't see his face, and he couldn't say anything comforting to you because he knew showing an attachment could create problems later on.

You understood his reasoning, but it wasn't enough at the moment. You could very well die here, and the last thing you see of him is the black polygonal mask. You were also scared that he would have to watch you die if something went wrong here. He would have to watch it and hold in his grief because the others couldn't know. You didn't want to become one of the ghosts of people from his past that still haunted his mind.

“I take it that you're looking for me.” In-ho said coldly. The mask was hiding it, but he was scared right now. He couldn't even remember the last time he was scared. But seeing you treated like this terrified him.

The man laughed angrily, “Looks like you weren't as stupid as I thought.” He snapped, punctuating his statement by digging the barrel of the gun into your skin. He looked over your shoulder toward In-ho. “Now, you're gonna show me where my sister is, or I'm gonna put a bullet in-”

The man was cut off by a gunshot, the bullet going straight through his skull. You screamed, scrambling away from the man. For a second, you thought the man shot you. You put your hand up to your temple, pulling it away to see blood. But it wasn't yours.

In-ho froze for a moment, taking a deep breath. He was still holding out his revolver, finger on the trigger after he took the man out. Once it registered in his brain that you were safe, he turned to the soldiers.

“Deal with this.” He said shortly to them. He took a step forward and grabbed your hand. He led you back toward the suite. He didn't do or say anything to you at first. He didn't need any of the soldiers realizing that you were a vulnerability of his.

Once the door shut behind you both, he pulled the mask off, letting it clatter to the ground as he pulled you into his arms. You cried into his chest, hands clenching around the fabric of his jacket.

He tried to calm you down, but it was obvious that he was shaken up by it as well. He gently ran his fingers through your hair. “Hey, it's okay now. You're safe now. He's gone. It's okay.” He whispered repeatedly.

You tried to calm down, but you couldn't manage it. You could feel the man's blood drying on your face and hand. You could still feel the dull ache where he grabbed you. You were shaking in his arms, breathing ragged and shallow.

He pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head. "I'm right here, okay? We're safe in here." He murmured. You nodded slightly. After a few minutes, your grip on his jacket loosened slightly. Your breathing slowed somewhat, but you still weren't calm.

“Do you want to go sit down?” He asked. You looked up at him. Your eyes were still wide and were now glassy and red from crying. You nodded. You couldn't even think about forming words right now.

He led you over toward the couch with a gentle hand on your elbow. He avoided touching your shoulders as he didn't know if you were hurt, and he certainly didn't want to remind you of the man's touch. After you sat down, he looked down at you. “I'll be right back, okay? I'm just going over to the kitchen.” He said. He waited for you to nod slightly before walking away.

He returned with a wet towel and a glass of water. You haven't moved since he left, still staring at the same spot on the floor with a faraway gaze. He got on his knees in front of you, setting the glass on the hardwood floor for a moment.

“I'm just going to wipe off your face, okay?” He asked. He placed his hand gingerly on your jaw, using the other to wipe the blood off. He tried to steady his own hands to no avail. He gently grabbed your hand and wiped it as well. “Do you want a drink?” He asked. You shook your head. He nodded. He walked over and placed it and the towel on an end table.

He sat down next to you. You turned so you were sitting perpendicular to him. You laid your legs across his and leaned into him. Your head rested against his chest. You could hear his heartbeat, which served to ground you. One of his arms wrapped around you while his other hand found its way into your hair.

You were still crying, but you had definitely calmed down somewhat. “Deep breaths, okay? Can you do that for me?” He murmured. You nodded slightly. You instinctively matched his breathing as he rubbed your arm. His anxiety was definitely lessening, but he still felt an intense anger in the back of his mind. Part of him wished he left the man alive so he could make him suffer.

After a few minutes of sitting like that, he moved his hands. One cupped your cheek gently, guiding your gaze to him. “If you don't want to, you don't have to, but could you tell me what happened?” He asked gently. It would be helpful to know so he could properly investigate the incident, but he also knew it wouldn't be a pleasant thing to discuss.

You sat quietly for a moment, moving back to your original position. “I was starting to make dinner, and I heard the door open and..." You said, trailing off as your breathing started to quicken again.

"Hey, hey, it's okay." He said, hushing you quietly. His embrace tightened slightly, resting his chin on the top of your head. "We don't have to talk about it now. Don't worry about it, okay?" You nodded slightly.

You both sat there for a moment. You started to shakily take deeper breaths. In-ho started humming softly. You didn't recognize the song, but you knew it had to be one of the pretentious classical songs that he held in high regard but you had never heard of. It definitely helped to soothe you, however

He took a deep breath. “He didn't hurt you, did he?” He asked. His tone was gentle, but you could tell there was an anger behind it.

“Not really.” You said. You felt him tense up, so you elaborated. “I mean, he grabbed my shoulder pretty hard and dug the barrel into my skin, but I'm fine.” You mumbled.

“Are you sure?” He asked.

You nodded.

You both sat like that for a moment before you spoke. “I'm sorry for scaring you.”

He looked down at you, puzzled. “That's not your fault.”

You shrugged. “I just feel bad because I know you had to hide it until we were alone.” You said.

He held you a bit tighter. “I'll admit, I was really worried. But it's not your fault at all. You have nothing to apologize for.” He said somewhat sternly.

In his mind, the anxiety he feels is just a manifestation of his love for you and his desire to keep you safe. It wasn't your fault that he was worried, and he didn't mind that he was. It was a good thing in his eyes.

You looked up at him, a slight smirk on your face. “At least we know the chips work.” You said with a giggle.

He smiled. There is nothing like some ill-timed humor to lighten the mood. “Maybe next time, we'll leave product testing up to the manufacturer.” He said. He gave you a soft kiss on your forehead.

You returned to listen to his heartbeat. “Can we just sit here for a second like this?” You still felt a bit nervous and shaky, likely from the adrenaline leaving your system.

He nodded. “Of course. Whatever you need.” He said gently. He rubbed your arm slowly. “What were you doing in the garden today?” He asked. He knew you both could use a distraction right now.

You jumped at the chance to talk to him about it, hoping it changes the topic and mood of the conversation. You told him about what you planted in the new planter and how the weeds around the rhododendron bush were stubborn. You updated him on your recent attempts to hand-feed some of the birds that nested in the area. He chuckled and picked on you for your insistence, but your determination and stubbornness were a bit inspiring, honestly.

When you had stopped talking, you had calmed down significantly. You were no longer shaking, and you felt like you could breathe again. And In-ho had calmed down too, seeing as he was considerably less tense. “Do you want to start on dinner? I'm going to make a call to the control room, and I'll be in to help.” He asked.

You looked up at him, giving a skeptical look. You've heard this one before.

He sighed. “It'll be quick, I promise.” He said.

“Sure…” you said, drawing out the vowel.

He rolled his eyes. “You are insufferable sometimes.” He said without malice.

You gave a look of mock surprise. “Rude.”

You got up to the kitchen while In-ho walked over to the rotary phone on the desk. You tried not to eavesdrop on the conversation, but most of it was just him ordering them to investigate the breach. He also ensured he could be with you the rest of the evening, something that brought a smile to your face. He was down bad, wasn't he?

The evening went smoothly for the two of you. He didn't need to be called into the control room at all.

You both got into bed for the night. You looked over at him. “Thank you.” You said softly.

He looked confused. “For what?” He asked.

“For staying with me tonight.” You murmured. “I know the games are important, and they need you. So this means a lot to me.”

He chuckled softly. “Of course I would. You're important to me too, you know?” He said. You could tell from his tone that he was tired. You pressed a kiss to his lips, and you felt him smile into the kiss.

You pulled away slowly. “I love you.” You mumbled.

“I love you too.” He said. He wrapped an arm around you, and it wasn't long until you were able to drift off.

It also wasn't long until In-ho woke up with a start. He jerked awake, breathing quickly. He jerked his gaze over to find you, making sure you didn't have the gunshot wound he had just watched you get in his nightmare.

He thought he hadn't woken you, but you eventually sat up with a yawn. “Hey, what's going on?” You asked sleepily.

He looked down at you. “Nothing, it's fine.” He said softly.

You caught on to what was happening, but you didn't say anything. You rolled over, resting your head on his chest and wrapping your arm around him. “Love you.” You murmured before dozing back off.

He looked at you and smiled with a lovesick grin. What did he do to deserve you? He thought about it until he drifted off to sleep himself.

[woozinhos]

Hello (⁄ ⁄•⁄ω⁄•⁄ ⁄) Can you please do a Yunho fic where the reader is his best friend for a long time then one day the sexual tension between the two finally snapped. Please include size kink, hand kink, and breeding kink. And I need Yunho to be rough 😶‍🌫 Thank you 😍

Notes: god I’m so weak for Yunho

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.

You had been friends with Yunho for years, the two of you practically inseparable. He was tall and muscular, his large hands always seeming to dwarf yours whenever you held them. He was kind and funny, always knowing how to make you laugh and smile. As time went on, though, something shifted between the two of you. The friendly touches and banter had become laced with an undercurrent of tension, and you found yourself feeling things for him that you never had before.

One night, the two of you were hanging out at his place, watching a movie. You were sitting on the couch next to him, his arm casually draped over your shoulders. But his touch felt different tonight, more deliberate and intentional.

You could feel the heat radiating off of his body, and every time he shifted or moved, his arm would brush against your chest, making you shiver. As he strokes your shoulder, his fingers seem to linger on your skin for a moment longer than usual. He glances at you out of the corner of his eye, his gaze intense and focused. You can sense a hint of nervousness in his demeanor, which is unlike him.

Yunho shifts on the couch, moving closer to you so that your bodies are now touching. He lets out a shaky breath, his hand moving from your shoulder to your thigh, his fingers tracing gentle circles on your skin. You feel your phone buzz in your pocket, and you pull it out to check the message.

It's from San, one of your other friends, and it reads: "Hey, you guys having fun tonight? I'm so bored over here." As you type out a reply to San, Yunho glances over at your phone and sees you smiling. He frowns, a hint of jealousy flashing in his eyes. He doesn't say anything, but his hand on your thigh tightens possessively. You finish your message to San and set your phone aside, noticing the look on Yunho's face.

"What's wrong?" you ask, raising an eyebrow at him.

"I can't take it anymore," Yunho growls, his voice low and rough. He grabs your waist and pulls you onto his lap, positioning you so that you're straddling him. You let out a small gasp as he moves you, your legs wrapping around his waist instinctively. He looks up at you, his eyes dark with desire, and his hands grip your hips tightly, holding you in place.

"I've been holding back for so long," he says, his voice hoarse with emotion. "But I can't deny it anymore. I love you."

"I've been in love with you for years," he admits, his hands moving up and down your sides. "But I was too scared to tell you, afraid of ruining our friendship."

"But now, seeing you talking to San like that... I couldn't stand it. I need you to know how I feel. You're mine, and I don't want anyone else to have you."

"I... I had no idea," you say, your heart racing as you look down at him. "I had no idea you felt that way about me." Yunho looks up at you, his expression softening as he sees the surprise in your eyes.

"How could you not know?" he asks, his hands moving to cup your face. "I've been so obvious about it."

"I've been flirting with you for years, touching you more than I should, trying to make you notice me," he says, his thumbs tracing your jawline. He gets frustrated with your lack of response, his grip on your face tightening slightly.

"Dammit, say something," he growls, his eyes burning with intensity.

“Kiss me,”You say with no thought behind it. He doesn't hesitate for a second, his lips crashing down on yours in a hungry, possessive kiss. His hands move from your face to your hair, his fingers tangling in the strands as he pulls you closer, his tongue demanding entrance into your mouth. You let out a small moan as he deepens the kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth with an insistent, dominant rhythm.

He pulls you even closer, your bodies pressed tightly together as he devours you. Yunho's hands are rough as he touches you, his movements precise and deliberate. He bites your lower lip, tugging on it lightly before his lips move to your neck, sucking and nibbling on the sensitive skin there. You gasp as he leaves a trail of hot, wet kisses down your neck, his hands roaming over your body.

He nips at your earlobe before whispering, "I've been dreaming about this for so long." He pulls back slightly, his eyes dark with lust as he looks up at you.

"Let me show you how badly I've needed you," he repeats, his voice low and gravelly. "I want to make you mine in every way possible."

"Show me," you breathe, your body trembling with anticipation. He pulls you even closer, his lips finding your throat and kissing a trail along your skin. He sucks and nips at your pulse point, his tongue laving over the sensitive skin there as his hands grip your hips firmly.

"Get on your knees," he growls, his voice commanding and authoritative. You shiver at the sound of his voice, and without hesitation, you slide off his lap and onto your knees in front of him. Yunho looks down at you, a satisfied smirk on his face as he sees you kneeling before him.

"Good girl," he purrs, his fingers running through your hair possessively. He continues to stroke your hair, his gaze intense as he looks down at you.

"You look so beautiful like this," he says, his voice low and rough. "On your knees, waiting for me to give you what you need." He slowly unzips his pants, his eyes never leaving yours. He lets out a soft groan as he pulls out his hardened length, his gaze becoming even more intense as he watches your reaction.

"Please," you beg, your voice barely above a whisper. Yunho's eyes darken further as he hears your plea, his hand still tangled in your hair.

"Please what, baby girl?" he asks, his voice a low growl.

"Please let me taste you," you whisper, looking up at him with desire in your eyes. He smiles at your request, his eyes glinting with a hint of wickedness.

"Open wide," he commands, his voice leaving no room for argument. You obediently open your mouth, your heart pounding in your chest as he guides his hardened length between your lips. He lets out a deep, guttural moan as you take him into your mouth, his hand still gripping your hair tightly.

"God, you feel so good," he groans, his eyes rolling back in pleasure. He starts to move his hips, slowly thrusting into your mouth as he loses himself in the sensation.

"That's it, baby girl," he murmurs, his voice thick with desire. "Take it all." He places his hand on your throat, feeling the bulge of his length as it moves in and out of your mouth. He lets out a low, possessive growl, his grip on your hair tightening even further. You feel a shiver run down your spine as you notice the veins in his hands, the sight making you even more aroused. He looks down at you with a smirk, clearly enjoying the effect he has on you.

"You like looking at my hands, huh?" he asks, his voice laced with amusement. He runs his thumb along your jawline, his touch rough and possessive. He picks up the pace, his thrusts becoming faster and more forceful as he loses himself in the pleasure.

"So eager," he groans, his hand on your throat tightening ever so slightly. He can feel himself getting closer to the edge, his breathing becoming ragged as he continues to use your mouth.

"You're gonna make me come, baby girl," he warns, his voice strained. He pulls out of your mouth and looks down at you, his chest heaving with exertion.

"I want to come inside you," he says, his eyes burning with desire. "Will you let me?"

"Yes," you breathe, your voice hoarse from the rough treatment. He grins at your answer, a look of pure lust on his face.

"Good girl," he says, grabbing your arm and pulling you to your feet. "Get on the bed." He watches you crawl onto the bed, his eyes fixed on your body. He moves behind you, his hands roaming over your skin as he positions himself between your legs. He gives your ass a firm slap, the sound echoing through the room.

"You have such a perfect ass," he growls, his hand massaging the reddened flesh. He pulls your pants down, letting out a low whistle as he sees your bare skin.

"Such a small, delicate body," he murmurs, his hands moving up to grip your hips. "So fragile... yet so eager to please me." He positions himself at your entrance, his grip on your hips tightening as he holds you in place.

"Are you ready for me, baby girl?" he asks, his voice rough with need.

"Yes Yunho," you whisper, your body trembling with anticipation. He doesn't waste any more time, thrusting into you in one swift motion. You gasp as he fills you completely, your body adjusting to his size.

"Too much?" he asks, a hint of concern in his voice despite his dominant demeanor.

"No, it's perfect," you manage to say, your voice shaky with pleasure. He begins to move, his thrusts slow and deliberate at first. He leans over you, his chest pressed against your back as he whispers in your ear.

"You're taking me so well, baby girl." He loses himself in the moment, his thrusts becoming more forceful and erratic. He grips your hips tightly, his fingers digging into your skin as he pounds into you relentlessly. Your gasps and moans spur him on, his hips slapping against yours with each thrust.

"God, you sound so good," he groans, his breath hot against your neck. He grabs a handful of your hair and pulls your head back, his thrusts becoming even rougher as he takes control. He's lost all sense of restraint now, his desire for you taking over completely. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, his teeth grazing your skin as he continues to pound into you.

"I'm not going to last much longer," he growls, his body tensing as he nears his climax. He speeds up even more, his pace almost punishing now as he chases his release.

"I'm going to fill you up," he growls, his voice thick with lust. "I'm going to breed you and make you mine." He slaps your ass hard, the sound of the impact echoing through the room.

"Take it," he commands, his grip on your hair tightening as he loses himself completely in the moment. His body tenses and he lets out a deep, guttural groan as he reaches his climax. He buries himself inside you as he comes, his seed spilling deep within you.

You feel the warmth of his release as he spills inside you, the sensation making you shudder in pleasure. He holds himself there for a moment, his body trembling as he rides out the waves of his orgasm. He slowly pulls out of you, a satisfied sigh escaping his lips as he admires the sight of his cum dripping down your thighs.

"You took every last drop," he murmurs, his fingers trailing over your sensitive skin.

"I always will," you manage to say, your voice still shaky from the intensity of your own pleasure. He flops down on the bed beside you, a smug look on his face as he rests his arms behind his head.

"You were so good for me," he says, his eyes roaming over your body.

[aventurineswife]

Hey! I read your Star Rail fics and loved them! So i wanted to ask/request an idea (only if you want to of course!😊) A Ratio x Reader where the Reader is Aventurines sister👀. She worked at the ipc before but now switched to work at the Inteligensia guild. She becomes good friends with Ratio during that time (and maybe they both start to get a tiiinyyy crush on the other😉). I have two ideas about how Ratio would find out: first; One day the two of them were having their break together when Aventurine comes in, bringing something that Reader forgot at home (maybe Lunch?) Ratio hears that and wonders just how Reader even met Aventurine or why they are appearently living together(getting a little jealous~?)...until Aventurine reveals that they are siblings.

Second; Ratio has to bring something to Reader, maybe she forgot something, so she sends him her adress and Aventurine opens the door. Ratio is completely shocked, because how could a Person like you, who is the complete opposite of Aventurine (Reserved, soft-spoken, polite, likeable...Ratio's words, not mine😅) be related to him??...As time passes their feelings for eachother become deeper...and Aventurine's keen observations notice it. He completely supports the two, acting as a wingman and teasing Ratio that someday they could even become in-laws😅(i really hope this isn't too long😔) Have a good day or night😇!

Through Jealous Eyes

Summary: You, Aventurine's younger sister, have joined the Intelligentsia Guild, where you’ve grown close to Dr. Ratio. During a break, Aventurine drops by to bring you your forgotten lunch, leaving Ratio surprised to learn about your sibling relationship. The revelation before stired unexpected jealousy and curiosity in Ratio, leading to subtle tensions and unspoken emotions between you both.

Tags: Ratio x Female!Reader, Slow Burn, Sibling Dynamics (With Aven), Subtle Jealousy, Fluff with Tension, Confessions in Progress, Found Family Themes, Mutual Pining.

Warnings: Mild Emotional Tension, Mentions of Sibling Teasing, Subtle Romantic Undertones.

A/N: I went with the first one 🤭😋

The Intelligentsia Guild was bustling as usual, the halls filled with the hum of intellect and ambition. Ratio was at his usual perch, his focus unwavering as he sifted through ancient texts, deciphering long-lost knowledge that might shift the tides of understanding across the galaxy. His hair, slightly tousled from his intense concentration, partially veiled the sharp gleam of his eyes, which were ever watchful for any new breakthrough.

But his mind kept drifting. It wasn't the texts that distracted him, but the person across the room—the one who had become his most unexpected and intriguing acquaintance: you.

You, the newest member of the Guild, had transferred from the IPC to pursue your own interests in knowledge and exploration. From the very first day, Ratio had noticed you—your sharp wit, your curious mind, and the subtle warmth that surrounded you. You were different from the usual guild members. Your eyes, often alight with passion, always seemed to spark something in him. He couldn’t quite place it, but there was something about you that made him… curious.

Perhaps it was your innate ability to see through the layers of his intellect to the emotions lurking beneath. Maybe it was your quiet, determined nature, which matched his own in many ways. Or maybe it was simply that, as you worked together, your conversations had evolved into something more… personal.

But there was one thing Ratio didn’t know about you: the mystery of Aventurine.

It was the usual break time when you and Ratio decided to take a moment to relax in one of the quieter corners of the Guild. You had a few papers scattered on the table, but there was no real urgency in your conversation. The two of you often found it easy to slip into a natural rhythm, exchanging ideas, laughter, and even fleeting moments of silence, which spoke louder than words.

As you took a sip of your drink, your phone buzzed.

“Ah, sorry, I think that’s my brother,” you said, glancing down at the device. “I’ll be right back.”

Ratio, who had been sipping on his own drink, raised an eyebrow at the mention of your brother. You were always vague about him, but it wasn’t uncommon for you to mention Aventurine in passing. He had never really thought much about it, though. Why would he? You were a capable, brilliant individual in your own right. But there was a nagging curiosity in him that he couldn't shake.

It wasn’t until Aventurine appeared, breezing into the room with an easy confidence that mirrored your own, that Ratio felt an unfamiliar pang in his chest. He was carrying a lunchbox—your lunchbox, to be precise—and handed it to you with a smirk.

“I knew you’d forget it again,” Aventurine said casually, giving you an affectionate ruffle on the head. “Next time, maybe you can actually remember it, hm?”

You laughed softly, your smile warm as you took the lunchbox from him. "Thanks, Aventurine. You always know when I need saving."

Ratio, who had been watching the interaction in silence, couldn't help but feel a strange tension coil in his chest. There was something about their easy rapport, the way you accepted the lunch with such familiarity, that made him... uncomfortable? Jealous, perhaps?

He cleared his throat, his gaze lingering on the exchange. “I didn’t realize you two were so close,” he remarked, his voice a little sharper than intended.

You looked up at him with a surprised expression. “Oh, yes. Aventurine is my older brother,” you explained, your voice softening with a touch of affection as you spoke his name.

Aventurine flashed a grin at Ratio, clearly enjoying the confusion he had caused. “You didn’t know? I guess it’s because my dear sister tends to downplay her family a little. Too modest for her own good.”

Ratio blinked, processing the new information. Siblings? How could he not have known? He hadn’t connected the dots before, but now that it was laid bare before him, it made perfect sense. The way you carried yourself—so confident, so sharp—could only have been influenced by someone as calculated as Aventurine.

But then came the realization that hit him harder than expected: Why did this matter to him so much?

He felt an odd sense of discomfort. It wasn’t jealousy—at least, he told himself it wasn’t—but the way Aventurine had so casually interacted with you, as if the two of you shared an unbreakable bond, made Ratio’s thoughts spiral in ways he hadn’t anticipated. He wanted to understand this dynamic between you both, and more than that, he found himself wanting to know you more.

“Well, that’s quite a surprise,” Ratio said, his voice lacking its usual warmth. He tried to mask the slight tension in his shoulders, but it was no use. He couldn’t shake the sense that something had shifted.

Aventurine, clearly enjoying the subtle unease he’d instigated, raised an eyebrow. “I see you’ve taken quite a liking to my sister,” he teased, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “Don’t worry, Ratio. She’s as sharp as a blade, but she won’t bite.”

You gave him an exasperated look, as if this teasing was far from new to you, but Ratio noticed the way your eyes flicked toward him, your expression unreadable for a brief moment. Was it possible that you were… aware of the tension?

“I’ll let you two get back to your conversation,” Aventurine continued with a wink, turning on his heel and making his way out of the room. “But don’t take too long. I’m sure we have more to talk about, right, sis?”

As the door closed behind him, the silence between you and Ratio stretched. You stared at your lunch for a moment before glancing up at him, your expression softening.

“Sorry about that,” you said with a small, apologetic smile. “Aventurine tends to be a bit… much, but he means well.”

Ratio simply nodded, his gaze not leaving your face. He could sense there was more to your words, something unspoken between the two of you. Something he hadn’t been privy to until now.

“No need to apologize,” he replied, though his voice was quieter than usual. “I just… didn’t realize how close you two were.”

You met his eyes, a glimmer of understanding in your gaze. “We’ve been through a lot together,” you said simply. “But I’m not defined by him, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Ratio’s heart stuttered at the way you phrased it, as if there were something more between the lines of your words. A rush of emotions—curiosity, confusion, and something he couldn’t quite place—washed over him.

“I’m not worried,” he muttered, his eyes averting from yours as he quickly returned to his work, hoping his voice didn’t betray him. “I just… didn’t expect to learn that.”

You chuckled softly, a sound that somehow seemed to calm the storm building inside him. “Well, now you know. And maybe that’ll help you understand me a little better.”

Ratio couldn’t deny that it did. But there was still something else lingering in the air between you two—something unspoken, a tension neither of you seemed ready to acknowledge.

And as he sat there, pretending to read the texts in front of him, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was closer to understanding you—and himself—than ever before.

[leighsartworks216]

You Don't Have To Say It

Sylus x gn!Reader

Makes references to past stories in the Raven universe

Inspired by this fic by @wriokitty <333

Warnings: fluff, established relationship, cuddling, kissing, literal sleeping together, declarations of love, swearing

Word Count: 787

Main Masterlist

The Raven Masterlist

First Love and Deepspace Masterlist

Second Love and Deepspace Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

You stare at him in the dark, seeking out the planes of his face. The form of his nose. The gentle parting of his lips. Breaths rise and fall in his chest.

You think he's asleep. It's hard to tell; he's so damn good at pretending. The only advantage you have right now is the alcohol in his system, lauded onto him by the twins during the New Years celebration. With Miss Hunter's encouragement, he drank a little more than usual, and, for once in a long while, became tipsy. Just enough to force him to sleep it off; not enough to leave him completely plastered.

So, you think he really is asleep this time.

Still... one can never be too sure.

You slowly reach out. Your fingertips brush over his bicep, against firm muscle, solid and powerful. He breathes in a little deeper. His pretty hair falls into his face as he shifts his head on his pillow with a long exhale. Fast asleep.

You pull your hand away with a smile. It's so surreal to be here, with him, completely unguarded and at ease.

He let his guard down first. He showed you that it's okay to trust someone other than yourself. And every day, you're grateful for it. You have no idea where you'd be now if you hadn't. Probably still under the Devil's thumb, or worse.

You can't think about it. Not now. Not when Sylus is so at peace.

After so long of containing your words, keeping them to yourself and letting them die unsaid, there is so much now you want to say. So much you want to get out. So much you should say now, while he's the perfect prey for it...

But these words... How can you say them? They're so... important. Worth so much more than a whisper to someone who can't even hear them...

You reach out once more, settling a hand on his chest. His heartbeat is a little slower than normal, but no less erratic, jumping around wildly. He shifts in his sleep, reaching out for you like a child grasping for a plushie. You willingly take up the mantle, sliding from your side of the bed into his awaiting arms. They wrap firmly around you, pulling you to his chest. A leg hooks over your hip. His face buries into your neck.

You wrap your arms around him in return. His heat sinks into your body, warmth chasing away any cold inch of skin. You slip one hand up to play with his hair. He sighs softly, breath fanning across your skin like a sweet caress.

Those words ache to be said. To be screamed if it means their meaning will get across. All the agony of a lifetime of loneliness. The pain of abuse and fear. The relief of patience. The bliss of kindness. All of it culminating into these damn words.

Just thinking about saying them scares you. Of all the things you've done and seen, this ranks amongst the most difficult of them all.

"I..." Your voice feels too loud in the silent room. He doesn't move. Doesn't react. You close your eyes and tamp down the fear in your heart. "I love you."

There. At last.

You let out a shaky breath and tuck your face into his shoulder. Safe. Secure. Wholly and completely at his mercy, to do with as he pleases - and all he does is turn to kiss sleepily at your skin.

He hums, a low rumble in his chest that vibrates through your body. "I love you, too, sweetheart..."

"You're supposed to be asleep," you bite back. The harshness in your tone is betrayed by the slight tremble in your arms as you squeeze him tighter. You feel his smirk against your skin. Feel the way they curl and press along your jaw.

"Say it again for me?"

"You're drunk."

"Just once more?"

"Go back to bed, Sylus."

"Will you say it then?"

"..."

A beat passes, where you think he may have relented and fallen back asleep.

Then, a loud snore sounds out right by your ear.

You burst into laughter against your desire to stay indifferent. His low chuckle joins you, filling your soul with an effortless affection for the man.

He kisses your neck and shoulder between giggles as your shared laughter dies down. "You don't have to say it," he assures you sincerely. "It doesn't change anything."

You turn your head to get a glimpse of his face. "What if I never say it ever again?"

He turns to meet you. Your noses brush against each other, breaths mingling. His eyes glimmer in the dark like a pair of red protocores. "I'll know."

---

Tag List:

@the-golden-jhope @huen1ngk41 @armycaratlover @sylusfluffymeow @cheesemachine44 @nyx2021 @angel-jupiter @thelittlebutton @pikachuzhc @pomegranatepip @cordidy @an-ever-angry-bi @thejysemongko @deusfoundry

[milla-frenchy]

omg Odi... (sorry for my 352 messages waiting for you on discord but I needed to express my feelings 😂😂😂) damn... this is so beautiful 😍❤️

The angst is amazing, the texts are perfect, each word is so good!!

One of my favorite fic ever. The way you described the emotions, everything is so vivid, your writing hello???? and the whole fic is brilliant 🤌👌

Thank you for the emotions and for this masterpiece ❤️❤️

You: Still into music? Joel’s brows furrowed, the unexpected question caught him off guard. The memory hit Joel like a sucker punch. The songs. That was how you used to talk to each other when words didn’t feel like enough.

And this. Wow. I LOVE when ex's use something from "before" to communicate. I love it, so, so much

His thoughts churned like storm clouds—your words, the memories they dragged back, the ache of something he thought he'd buried years ago.

Aaaaah I love it I love it I love it

Your hips swayed to the rhythm, carefree and unselfconscious, like the world outside didn’t exist. You turned suddenly, catching him staring, and your smile lit up the room.   “What?” you teased, eyes sparkling. “You gonna stand there all morning, or are you gonna help me?”   “Don’t see a reason to move,” Joel drawled, his lips tugging into a smirk. “Got a real nice view from here.”   You rolled your eyes, but your laughter bubbled up, soft and sweet, filling the quiet space between you.

The intimacy, hello??? So good

Joel hadn’t responded with words. Instead, he pressed a kiss to your forehead, his hand running idly through your hair. Actions had always been easier for him than words, and he’d hoped you understood what he couldn’t say.  

Damn, Odi... what the fuck. I have tears in my eyes for real. This is so beautiful. I love men that have a hard time expressing their feelings, men that need to use something else to do it. This is amazing

You: 3:01 - Exile by Taylor Swift.  His heart kicked up as he clicked the link and let the song play, skipping to the time stamp. The haunting melody filled the room, and when the lyrics hit, he froze.   “I think I’ve seen this film before, and I didn’t like the ending.”

Damn. Fuck fuck fuck

Joel: 2:26 - The Night We Met by Lord Huron.   He hit send before he could second-guess himself, then opened the song and skipped to the time stamp.   “I had all and then most of you, some and now none of you. Take me back to the night we met.”  

jfc. And I have no idea how the fic is gonna end. You're torturing me, ma'am 😭😘

You: That’s a bold choice.  

hehehe, reader is so you on this one 😁😁😁 I can totally see you answer this 😁😁😁

You: 2:01 - All I Want by Kodaline Joel played the song, the ache in the lyrics settled heavy in his chest. "Cause you brought out the best of me. A part of me I'd never seen. You took my soul, wiped it clean. Our love was made for movie screens. But if you loved me, why did you leave me?" The words cut sharper than he wanted to admit.

You have NO idead how much I love this. Love their communication through music. It's such a brilliant idea!!!

The honesty in his voice made your breath hitch, and Joel caught the way your expression softened, your playful demeanor faltering for just a moment.

awww 🥹🥹🥹

And then the meeting, the ending. Wow. what a masterpiece 👌🤌

I'm gonna think about them for a long, long time

Reincarnated

Joel Miller x F!Reader // 4.5k

summary: A late-night text from an unknown number stirs up memories you thought you’d buried. It’s been years since Joel walked out of your life, but now he’s back. Old wounds resurface, boundaries blur, and the question lingers: is this a second chance or just another heartbreak waiting to happen?

warnings: this is just yearing, longing, sad tortured for years joel, theme's of heartbreak, no beta, two ex's, tommy makes an appearance, no smut here (I know I know this is not my usual)

notes: I don't usually write this kind of stuff (no smut) and I am not sure how I feel about it but this is my submission for @jolapeno's Dear-uary challenge my prompt was: An old flame unexpectedly texts the other after years of silence, sparking memories of their past relationship and wondering if the feelings are still there. A big thank you to @thundermartini my baby for holding my hand as per usual, helping me with the title, being my draft, my cheerleader supporting me through a hundred moodboard changes, @itwasntimethatdidit40 my sweet sweet freckles for being such a massive support, helping me with the moodboard pictures, being a cheerleader and reading through parts of this. and @sawymredfox for always being such a lovely support and listening to me ramble always I love you all more than you know.

masterlist

The sun dipped low behind the hills, painting the Texas sky in streaks of gold and crimson. Joel sat on the creaky old porch chair, boots propped on the railing, a glass of bourbon rested loosely in his hand. He wasn’t drinking to enjoy it tonight—more out of habit than anything. The bitter burn barely registered anymore.  

Beside him, Tommy leaned back in his chair, the faint smirk on his face telling Joel he was gearing up for one of his jabs. Tommy always had a knack for digging up things Joel preferred to leave buried.  

“You ever wonder what happened to her?” Tommy asked, his voice easy, like he was just making small talk. But Joel knew better.  

Joel’s grip on the glass tightened. He kept his gaze on the horizon, jaw clenching as he swirled the amber liquid. “Who?” he grunted, though his heart already knew the answer.  

Tommy chuckled, low and knowing. “C’mon, Joel. Don’t play dumb. You know who I’m talkin’ about. That woman you used to see when Sarah was little. The one who—”  

“Drop it, Tommy.” Joel’s voice was sharp, a warning shot, but Tommy, stubborn as ever, wasn’t backing down just yet.  

“Alright, I’ll drop it,” Tommy said, leaning forward. “But I’m just sayin’, you’ve been walkin’ around like a damn ghost for years now. You ever think maybe you oughta—”  

“I said drop it,” Joel snapped, his tone cutting through the lazy evening like a whip crack.  

That shut Tommy up, at least for a moment. He leaned back again, taking a swig of his beer and letting out a long sigh. “Fine. But you know I’m right. You can act like you don’t care, but I see it, Joel. Regret’s a hell of a thing to carry around.”  

Joel didn’t answer. He couldn’t. Instead, he stared out at the horizon, watching as the last sliver of sunlight disappeared behind the trees.  

————————

Later that night, Joel lay in bed, the house quiet save for the faint creak of the floorboards settling. Tommy’s words churned in his mind, unwelcome but persistent. Regret.  

The truth was, Joel had gotten real good at shoving his regrets into a corner of his mind and ignoring them. He had to. Otherwise, they’d eat him alive. But sometimes, like tonight, they crept back in, catching him off guard when his defenses were down.  

Your face came to him in flashes, unbidden but vivid as ever—the curve of your smile, the sound of your laugh, the way your eyes had always seemed to see right through him.  

He’d thought about you more than he cared to admit over the years. Wondered where you were, what you were doing, if you were happy. Wondered if you ever thought about him.  

Joel sat up, running a hand through his hair as he glanced at the phone on his nightstand. The idea of reaching out had crossed his mind a hundred times before, but he’d always talked himself out of it. What would he even say? What right did he have to show up in your life again after all this time?  

Still, something about tonight felt different. Maybe it was Tommy’s words rattling around in his head. Or maybe it was the quiet, aching loneliness that had settled in his chest like an old friend.  

Before he could think better of it, Joel grabbed his phone. He opened a blank message, staring at it for what felt like an eternity. Then, he typed, backspaced and typed again until he finally settled on something.

Hey, it’s been a while.  

He hesitated, thumb hovering over the send button. His chest felt tight, like the weight of all the years and mistakes was pressing down on him. But before he could change his mind, he hit send.  

The message hung there on the screen, simple and unassuming, but it felt monumental. Joel stared at it, heart pounding in a way he hadn’t felt in years.  

Minutes passed. Then longer. He sighed, setting the phone back on the nightstand. “Goddamn fool,” he muttered under his breath.  

But just as he was reaching to turn off the light, his phone buzzed.  

The buzzing sound jolted him more than he cared to admit. He picked it up, the faint glow of the screen illuminating his furrowed brow.

You: Who is this?

He hadn’t expected you to respond. Or maybe he had, but he hadn’t thought this far ahead. He was suddenly aware of how much rested on the next words he typed.

Joel: It’s Joel.

The three dots appeared almost immediately, then disappeared. They came back and stopped again. Joel could almost picture you sitting there, debating whether to even respond.

Then it came.

You: What do you want?

There it was. Direct. Guarded. Exactly what he expected. Joel leaned back against the headboard. He didn’t blame you. Hell, he deserved worse. But now that he’d started this, he couldn’t stop.

Joel: I don’t know. Just thought I’d check in.

The response came quicker this time.

You: After all these years? You just “thought you’d check in”?

Joel winced, hesitating over the screen again. Nothing felt right. Nothing felt like enough.

Joel: I’ve been thinking about you.

Another pause. He could practically feel your hesitation through the phone.

You: Don’t. You don’t get to do that.

Joel stared at your message. His jaw tightened as he fought against the surge of guilt rising in his chest. You were right—he didn’t get to do this. But here he was, selfishly dragging the both of you back into a mess he’d created.  

He set the phone down, ran a hand over his face, and stared at the ceiling. Memories of you flickered in his mind—how your laugh used to light up a room, the way your touch had always grounded him when the world felt too heavy. He’d walked away, thinking it was the right thing to do. For Sarah. For her mother. For everyone but you.  

The phone buzzed again. He sighed, picking it back up.

You: Why now, Joel? What’s the point?  

He’d rehearsed this conversation in his head so many times over the years, but none of those imagined scenarios had prepared him for this.  

Joel: There is no point. I just couldn’t stop myself tonight. I know I don’t deserve to be texting you.  

You: You’re damn right you don’t. You broke my heart. You don’t just get to waltz back in like nothing happened. 

Joel: I know I did. And I’m sorry. I should’ve said it back then, but I was too much of a coward.

He stared at the screen, waiting, but no reply came. The silence felt heavier than the darkness surrounding him, and for a moment, he wondered if that was it. If you’d finally had enough and decided to let him rot in the bed he’d made.  

You: But why now, why tonight? 

Joel: Tommy brought you up. Got me thinking. 

The truth hung there, plain and unvarnished. He could’ve lied, could’ve made it sound more noble, but what good would that have done?  

You: So what, I’m some ghost you decided to chase because Tommy made you feel bad? 

Joel: No. It’s not like that. I’ve thought about you every damn day since I left. I know that probably doesn't mean shit to you, but it’s the truth. 

You: Every day, huh? Didn’t stop you from choosing her over me. 

Joel shut his eyes, the memory of that choice cutting through him like a knife. He’d thought he was doing the right thing back then but in the process, he’d shattered something else—something that had mattered more than he’d been willing to admit.  

Joel: You’re right. I made the wrong choice. I know that now.

You: I don’t know if I can do this.  

Joel stared at the words. He wasn’t sure if he could do this either, but he knew one thing for certain—he didn’t want to let you go again.  

Joel: You don’t have to decide right now. Just let me talk to you. For a little bit. Please. 

You: Fine. But don’t expect me to make this easy for you.

A faint, bittersweet smile tugged at Joel’s lips. He didn’t expect it to be easy. He didn’t think he deserved it. But for the first time in years, there was a sliver of hope in his chest.  

Joel: Fair enough.

You: Still into music?

Joel’s brows furrowed, the unexpected question caught him off guard. The memory hit Joel like a sucker punch. The songs. That was how you used to talk to each other when words didn’t feel like enough.

Every morning, like clockwork, one of you would send a song with a time stamp—each track chosen so deliberately. Some days, it was your favorite love songs, sappy and sweet, reminding the other how much you cared. Other times, it was to lift each other up, a little nudge of hope when the world felt too heavy. And then there were the ones that said all the things neither of you could say out loud.

Joel: Always.

You: I’ll send you one tomorrow.

Joel: Looking forward to it.

Joel sighed, setting the phone back on the nightstand. Your last message sat heavy on his chest, lingering. He stared up at the ceiling, the faint glow of moonlight spilling through the blinds. His thoughts churned like storm clouds—your words, the memories they dragged back, the ache of something he thought he'd buried years ago.  

Eventually, the exhaustion won out, pulling him under. Joel’s dreams carried him back to a time when life felt a little less heavy, and the weight of his choices hadn’t yet settled on his shoulders.  

He saw you clearly, like a photograph that had been buried but never faded. You were standing in his kitchen cooking breakfast, barefoot and wearing one of his old flannels that hung loose on you, the sleeves rolled up past your elbows. It was early morning, sunlight streaming through the window and catching in your hair, painting you in a golden glow.  

Joel leaned against the doorframe, coffee mug in hand, watching as you hummed along to Fishin' in the Dark by The Nitty Gritty Dirt Band on the radio—one of those old country tunes you both loved. Your hips swayed to the rhythm, carefree and unselfconscious, like the world outside didn’t exist. You turned suddenly, catching him staring, and your smile lit up the room.  

“What?” you teased, eyes sparkling. “You gonna stand there all morning, or are you gonna help me?”  

“Don’t see a reason to move,” Joel drawled, his lips tugging into a smirk. “Got a real nice view from here.”  

You rolled your eyes, but your laughter bubbled up, soft and sweet, filling the quiet space between you. He couldn’t help but cross the room then, setting his coffee down on the counter as his hands found your waist.  

“Joel Miller,” you said, feigning exasperation as he pulled you close, his fingers brushing along the curve of your hip. “I’m trying to make breakfast, and you’re—”  

“Distractin’ you?” he interrupted, leaning in so his nose brushed against you.  

“Exactly.”  

“Good,” he murmured, before pressing a kiss to the side of your neck. You let out a soft sigh, melting into him, and for a moment, everything felt perfect—like the rest of the world could wait.  

The memory shifted, flickering like an old film reel. You were both lying on the couch now, tangled up in each other as a record spun on the turntable, and he could hear your voice, quiet but clear, singing along to a song you’d claimed was “for him.”  

“Every time I hear this one, I think of you,” you’d confessed, your head resting on his chest.  

Joel hadn’t responded with words. Instead, he pressed a kiss to your forehead, his hand running idly through your hair. Actions had always been easier for him than words, and he’d hoped you understood what he couldn’t say.  

When Joel woke, the room was still dim, dawn just beginning to creep through the cracks in the blinds. He rubbed a hand over his face, groaning softly as the previous night settled back onto his chest. His phone caught his eye, and he hesitated before reaching for it.  

The screen lit up, and there it was—a new message.  

You: 3:01 - Exile by Taylor Swift. 

His heart kicked up as he clicked the link and let the song play, skipping to the time stamp. The haunting melody filled the room, and when the lyrics hit, he froze.  

“I think I’ve seen this film before, and I didn’t like the ending.”

Joel leaned back against the headboard, staring at the phone in his hand. The words hit harder than he’d expected—bitterness woven into a truth he couldn’t deny. But beneath the sting, there was something else.  

You’d sent him a song. After all this time, after everything that had passed between you, you’d listened, and you’d answered. It wasn’t an olive branch, not exactly, but it was a thread. A connection. A chance.  

Joel stared at the screen for what felt like an eternity, the song still playing in the background. The words hit like a gut punch, raw and honest in a way only music could manage. He exhaled slowly. He had to respond, and it had to be right.  

Scrolling through his playlists, he searched for something that could say what he couldn’t put into words. A chance to prove he wasn’t the man who had walked away. Something that could show you he wasn’t taking this lightly, that he regretted the past.

Then he found it.  

Joel: 2:26 - The Night We Met by Lord Huron.  

He hit send before he could second-guess himself, then opened the song and skipped to the time stamp.  

“I had all and then most of you, some and now none of you. Take me back to the night we met.”  

The lyrics bled through the room, a haunting confession of longing and regret. He closed his eyes, letting the melody wrap around him like a cold embrace. It wasn’t just a song—it was a plea.  

Minutes passed with no reply, the silence stretched long and thin. Joel’s chest tightened, doubt creeping in like an unwelcome guest. Maybe he’d read too much into your message. Maybe sending the song was too much.  

The phone buzzed in his hand, and his breath hitched.  

You: That’s a bold choice.  

A small, humorless chuckle escaped him. Bold, sure—but it was the truth.  

Joel: Figured it was fitting.  

You: It is. But that night it’s a hard one to go back to.  

Joel swallowed painfully, the weight of your words settling over him like a lead blanket. He didn’t blame you. 

Joel: I know. I can’t change the past. But I wish I could.  

You: Wishing doesn’t fix anything.  

Joel: You’re right. But maybe it’s a start.  

You: We’ll see.    

The conversation faded into silence after that, but Joel didn’t mind. For the first time in years, he felt like he’d taken a step—small, tentative, but forward.  

He wasn’t walking away this time. Not again.  

——————————

The next day started quietly for Joel. After his usual morning routine—coffee, and an aimless walk around the property—he finally glanced at his phone, half-expecting silence, but there it was

You: 2:01 - All I Want by Kodaline

Joel sat on the oak chair at his kitchen table, his phone resting in his palm as All I Want faded out. Your song hit him square in the heart—a combination of longing and accusation he couldn’t argue with. He leaned forward with his elbows on the table.

Joel played the song, the ache in the lyrics settled heavy in his chest. "Cause you brought out the best of me. A part of me I'd never seen. You took my soul, wiped it clean. Our love was made for movie screens. But if you loved me, why did you leave me?" The words cut sharper than he wanted to admit.

Why did you leave me?  

The answer felt too big, too tangled in old guilt and choices he couldn’t take back. Joel rubbed his hand over his mouth, trying to think of the right response. Music had always been your language, but today, the words felt harder to choose.  

After a while, he scrolled through his playlists again, stopping when his thumb hovered over a familiar title. It wasn’t just about the lyrics—it was the feeling, the truth of what he wanted to say but couldn’t. He thought it might somehow tip the scales in his favor and so he typed.

2:41- Let Her Go by Passenger 

He opened the song and let the timestamp play, you only know you love her when you let her go and you let her go.

Finally, he hit the button, watching as the message marked "Delivered."  

The phone sat in his hand as he leaned back against the kitchen chair, the melody echoing in his mind. This back-and-forth of songs and guarded words—it felt like a lifeline, but also like walking on a tightrope. He wanted more, needed more, but he wasn’t sure if you were ready to give it.

The phone buzzed, breaking his thoughts.

You: You always pick the gut-punchers.

Joel exhaled a small laugh.

Joel: Never been good at subtle.

You: You’ve still got good taste in music, I’ll give you that. Suprised it’s not an oldie.

Joel smiled, a faint warmth spreading through his chest. It wasn’t forgiveness, not yet, but it was a step—a reminder that some part of you still wanted to talk to him.

By the sixth day, it felt like you both slipped back into old habits, texting each other all day about everything and nothing. Joel found himself smiling more, laughing even. It wasn’t like the years hadn’t happened—those gaps still lingered, but they didn’t feel so wide anymore.

—————————————

The next few days blurred together in a steady rhythm of texts. It started slow—Joel’s messages were careful and measured. A “good morning” here, a comment about the weather there, and a song in between. But soon, the conversations stretched longer, dipping into familiar topics and inside jokes he hadn’t thought about in years.

It was comfortable and natural. Everything was falling back into place, even though you weren’t sure if you were ready to let it.

Joel: Thought about calling you earlier.

You: Why didn’t you?

Joel: I don’t know. Didn’t wanna push too hard, I guess. But I miss hearing your voice.

You: Well if you’re going to call, might as well make it a video call. Let’s see if you’ve aged as much as you sound like you have ;)

Joel blinked at the screen, his lips twitching into a surprised smile. He ran a hand through his hair, glancing at the hallway mirror. “Damn you old fool,” he muttered to himself, brushing a finger over the lines on his face.

Joel: You sure? Don’t want to scare you off.

You: I’ll take my chances.

Joel chuckled, the sound low and almost nervous as he tapped the video call button. His heart thudded in his chest as the screen shifted, the ringing filling his ears until, finally, the call connected.

Your face appeared, a little blurry at first before the image settled. Joel stared, his breath catching at the sight of you, just as beautiful as he remembered.

“Hey,” you said softly, your voice breaking the silence.

Joel swallowed hard, his grip tightening on the phone. “Hey,” he replied. He gave a small, self-deprecating smile. “Guess this is me. Older, grayer, and maybe a little wiser.”

You tilted your head, a smirk forming on your lips. “You don’t look half bad… for an old man.”

Joel chuckled, the sound more relaxed this time. He paused, his eyes scanning your face through the screen. “It’s real good to see you.”

You nodded, your expression softening. “It’s good to see you too.”

Joel leaned back in his chair, the tension in his shoulders easing as the two of you settled into the call. His smile lingered, even as he tried to play it cool. “Y’know, video calls weren’t much of a thing last time we talked.”

You laughed, resting your chin on your hand. “Yeah, it’s weird seeing you like this. Makes you feel closer, though.”

He nodded, the warmth in your voice made his chest tighten. “Closer’s good. Been too damn long.”

Your gaze softened, and for a moment, neither of you said anything, just letting the silence stretch. Joel was the first to break. “So, I passed the test, then? Don’t look too ancient on camera?”

You laughed, the sound sending a ripple of nostalgia through him. “You’re doing okay. Grays suit you.”

“Flatterin’ me now, huh?” He leaned forward slightly. “I think you’re tryin’ to distract me.”

“Distract you from what?” you asked, raising a brow, but there was a playful lilt in your voice.

“From how damn beautiful you are,” he said, the words leaving his mouth before he could stop them. He blinked, his expression shifting as if he wasn’t sure he should’ve said it.

“You always were a charmer, Miller.”

“Not sure ‘bout that,” he replied, rubbing the back of his neck. “Think I just say what I mean when it comes to you.”

The honesty in his voice made your breath hitch, and Joel caught the way your expression softened, your playful demeanor faltering for just a moment.

“You always did have a way of catching me off guard,” you said finally.

“Guess it’s mutual, then.” He leaned back in his chair. “You’ve always had a knack for makin’ me say things I don’t plan on sayin’.”

“Oh yeah? Like what?”

“Like tellin’ you how beautiful you are,” he said without missing a beat, his tone steady now, as if he’d decided to own the moment. “How much I’ve missed seein’ that pretty face, hearin’ your laugh.” He paused, his eyes holding yours through the screen. “How much I’ve missed you.”

“Joel…” you began, but he cut you off with a gentle smile.

“Don’t gotta say anything,” he said softly. “Just… wanted you to know.”

You shook your head, a smile breaking through. “You always do this, you know? Say something that makes it impossible to stay mad at you.”

“Not my intention. So, how ‘bout you? You miss me at all, or am I just an old fool?”

"I mean, you are an old fool, but…"

"But?"

"But maybe I missed you a little," you teased, holding your thumb and forefinger an inch apart for emphasis.

He shook his head as a laugh rumbled out of him. "A little, huh? Should’ve known I’d only get a half-assed compliment outta you."

"Hey," you shot back, grinning now, "that’s more than most people get. Consider yourself special, Miller."

"Special, huh? Careful now—you keep sweet-talkin’ me like that, and I might start thinkin’ you missed me a lot."

You laughed, rolling your eyes. "Don’t push your luck."

The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable—it was charged, full of unspoken things. Joel shifted in his chair, his thumb brushing absently along the edge of the phone. He hadn’t realized how much he’d needed this, how much he’d needed you. And now that he had you on the other end of this call, he wasn’t sure how he’d gone so long without it.

“So,” he started, his voice softer now, “what have you been up to all these years? Catch me up.”

You shared bits and pieces of your life. Joel listened intently, his eyes fixed on the screen like you might vanish if he looked away. Your laugh filled the space between his words, and every now and then, you’d tease him about his “old man” habits or the way his drawl had only gotten thicker.

It was easy. Too easy. And Joel realized he didn’t want the call to end.

“Y’know, this… this ain’t enough. Seein’ you like this. Hearin’ you talk. Feels good, don’t get me wrong, but it’s not the same.”

You hesitated, your smile faltering. “What are you saying, Joel?”

“I’m sayin’… I wanna see you. For real. None of this video callin’ nonsense.” His voice dropped lower, softer, like he was afraid you might say no. “Just you and me. Like old times.”

You blinked, your lips parting in surprise before a slow smile spread across your face. “You sure you’re ready for that? Seeing me in person might ruin the illusion.”

“Doubt that,” Joel said, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I’ll take my chances.”

The day of the meeting came quicker than Joel expected. He stood outside the small café you’d chosen, his hands stuffed into his jacket pockets to keep them from fidgeting. His heart was pounding in a way that made him feel like a damn teenager again, but he couldn’t help it. This wasn’t just any meeting. This was you.

You laughed, shaking your head. “Alright, Miller. When and where?”

————

He looked around waiting to see you, and then Joel froze. There you were, standing just a few feet away, your face illuminated by the golden afternoon light. You looked just as he remembered, and yet somehow different—like time had added something to you, something he couldn’t quite put into words. His breath caught, and for a moment, he couldn’t move.

And then your eyes met.

It hit him like a punch to the gut, the kind of emotion he thought he’d buried long ago. There was no escaping it, no pretending it wasn’t there. The way you smiled at him, tentative and warm, like you were testing the waters but already knew the outcome—it was enough to undo him completely.

“Joel,” you said softly. It was the same voice he’d been hearing in his head for years, the one he’d convinced himself he could live without. But now that it was real, there was no going back.

“Hey,” he managed, his voice rough and uneven. He took a step closer until he was standing right in front of you.

For a moment, neither of you said anything. You just looked at each other, the weight of the years between you pressing down and then lifting all at once. Joel’s eyes traced every line of your face, every detail he’d missed, and he felt something settle deep in his chest. Something he hadn’t felt in a long, long time.

It was undeniable, inevitable. Whatever this was, whatever it could be—there was no stopping it now. Joel knew it, and by the way you looked at him, he knew you did too.

“Guess we’ve got a lot to talk about,” he said finally, his lips quirking into a small, lopsided smile.

“Yeah,” you replied, your own smile soft but full of promise. “We do.”

And as Joel held the door open for you, letting you step inside first, he felt it—the certainty that this wasn’t the end of something but the beginning.

Whatever came next, he knew one thing for sure - you were in it, and there was no turning back.

[emsprovisions]

Happy Wednesday everyone! Today's a bit of a crazy day but I'll try and make a post about fandom memories soon! It is the cutest idea and I love it. This is a bit from the Carlos fic I've been working on, that was originally supposed to be about Carlos confronting his religious trauma, but this fic is taking me on a ride in multiple directions and I am really loving playing with it so far! So please enjoy this lengthy snippet! 💕

“Hey, babe,” TK smiles, looking at Carlos like he hung the sun, the moon, and the stars. “Hungry?”

“Yeah,” Carlos smiles. “It’s a nice day. Do y’all want to eat outside?”

“Yes!” Jonah practically vibrates in his shoes where he stands at TK’s side. “Please, Carlos!”

Carlos laughs, “alright, buddy, hang on, I just need to go grab a few things from my desk.”

A moment later, Carlos returns, placing the standard issue, white Stetson onto Jonah’s head instead of his own. The too-big hat falls over Jonah’s eyes, making him break out into a fit of giggles as he pushes it up his head. Carlos and TK smile at his immeasurable joy and lead him back the way they came, to the elevator. 

“What’s on tap for lunch today?” Carlos asks, leaning against a wall in the elevator as he and TK watch Jonah crouch low to the floor on the ride down before he jumps as high as he can as it lurches to a stop. 

“I took the leftover brisket from the other night and made sandwiches,” TK says. “There’s steak fries too.”

“Well that sounds amazing, babe,” Carlos smiles at his husband as the elevator dings and the doors seamlessly slide open, a blast of cool air from the foyer chasing them inside. 

He almost misses it as they step out into the high-eighty degree weather that can only be described as a Texas spring day in early March.

They haven’t had Jonah in their custody for too long yet. Carlos’s sick leave after he was shot taking down his father’s killer ended over a month ago. He still has a hard time chewing the unsavory former Chief Bridges’s name in his mouth. 

He’d been his father’s friend. A coworker for the better part of thirty-something years. A confidant most likely. The same man to take Carlos under his wing and march him in his father’s footsteps. 

But Carlos is doing better now. 

He has a therapist. He’s more open with his mom these days. He has TK to lean on. And he has Sam too, when he needs someone who gets it on the very same level as him. He has a fantastic support group, and with it, TK’s mentioned he’s noticed a bit of the Carlos he’d fallen in love with creeping back in. 

“You’re smiling again, baby,” TK says softly, just for Carlos to hear as they claim a picnic table under some shady trees to eat their lunch. 

“I’m happy to see you,” Carlos shrugs with a smile. 

“I’m happy to see you too,” TK’s own smile grows, love twinkling in his eyes. 

Carlos wonders sometimes if he’s dreaming up this perfect life, but he’d once told TK in front of all the people they both know and love that TK is the dream he’s never allowed himself to have. He’s allowing himself to have it now, he thinks, this life full of love for his husband and for Jonah.

Thank you for the tags @thisbuildinghasfeelings @paperstorm @lemonlyman-dotcom @everlastingday @futures-tense @reyesstrand @strandnreyes @nisbanisba @carlossreaders @bonheur-cafe @alrightbuckaroo

No pressure tags @whatsintheboxmh @ironheartwriter @carlos-in-glasses @heartstringsduet @tellmegoodbye @eclectic-sassycoweyes @butchreyes @lightningboltreader @henrygrass @rangersoup @chicgeekgirl89 @decafdino @captain-gillian @nancys-braids @welcometololaland + Open tag 🏷

[ldydeath]

We Can Love Again | Kwon Ji-yong (G-Dragon)

Summary: Your boyfriend of two years breaks up with you suddenly. Jiyong, your best friend comes to comfort you and also to admit his own feelings.

Warnings: mild language, angst.

Author's note: considering making this a two part fic. We shall see. 🖤

Today was supposed to have been a really great day. Dinner with your boyfriend and then an event with your best friend, Jiyong. You lived for nights like this. You hadn’t been expecting to get dumped at dinner, though, which is how you found yourself curled up on the couch tears streaming down your face. Sure, it hadn't been the most perfect relationship but that hadn’t made your feelings any less real. You’d loved him and he just up and dumped you for no reason after two years. .

Not wanting to make a scene you’d left as soon as you’d felt the tears pooling in your eyes and beelined it straight home, turning your phone off in the process. The Gala event with Jiyong had completely left your mind the second your heart broke. You had no idea how long you’d been sitting in the dark, you didn’t really care either. It’s not like you had anything better to do.

A knock at the door shook you from your thoughts and you stood up, wrapping a blanket tightly around your dress. You hadn’t even bothered to change out of it. “Oh thank god” your best friend's voice greeted you as you opened the door. His eyes widening when you met his gaze. “I’ve been trying to get a hold of you for hours. What’s wrong, why have you been crying?” His words came out rushed, worry etched in his face. You moved to the side, allowing him room to enter your apartment.

“We broke up.” You chewed on your bottom lip, trying to keep the tears at bay as you sat back down on the couch, wrapping the blanket tightly around you. Jiyong sighed as his eyes surveyed the room. You couldn’t help but feel a little embarrassed as he looked around the dark room. He moved to turn on a light before sitting down next to you, a protective arm wrapping around you, pulling you closer. He had never liked your ex.

“He’s an idiot.” Your head moved to rest on his shoulder and you sniffled, a small nod of agreement following. “I’m sorry.” He kissed the top or your head and you closed your eyes as more tears fell from your eyes. Jiyong hated seeing you like this. You were his entire world and seeing you in so much pain caused him pain too. The two of you sat there in silence for a long while, the only sound to be heard was your occasional sniffle as you tried your best to compose yourself.

You moved slightly, wiping the tears from your cheeks, catching a glimpse of your best friend's outfit. “Shit!” You sat up fully, the blanket falling off your shoulders. “The gala, I completely forgot.” You reached for your phone, turning it on, your heart sank as you saw the time. When did it get so late? He shook his head, grabbing the phone from your hands and movig it to the coffee table.

“It’s fine, the guys were there so I wasn’t completely alone.” His reassurance still made you feel awful, and you threw your head back on the couch, a groan escaping your lips. You weren’t this person, a flaky friend who cried in the dark. You vowed to yourself that you would make it up to him. Lifting your head to look at your friend, you gave him a small smile. “I still feel bad.”

Jiyong chuckled, pulling you back into his arms. “I would’ve skipped the gala, you know. You could’ve called me. But there is absolutely no reason for you to feel bad.” Your heart raced at the close contact and you quickly chased those thoughts away. You were sad, any close contact despite who it was was going to garner that reaction. That was all. You didn’t like Jiyong. And even if you did, he definitely didn’t like you back.

It was nice being comforted this way. It made you feel silly for not calling him the second it happened. “Thanks for being here.” You leaned up giving him a friendly kiss on the cheek, finally starting to feel slightly better. The world wasn’t going to end, you’d be okay eventually. He tensed when your lips met his skin and you pulled back quickly, your brows furrowed in confusion. “You ok?” You’d kissed him on the cheek a million times over the years, but he’d never froze like that before.

He stared at you, visibly uncomfortable, as if he was at war with his own thoughts. “No.” He shook his head, his arm falling from your back. You instantly felt cold again and you wrapped your arms around your legs, as if holding yourself together would actually keep the world from falling apart. Why wasn’t he ok? What had you done? “I have to tell you something.” Well, that was never good. “Ok?” You rested your chin on your knee, giving him your full attention.

“I think I might be in love with you. I know the timing is shit and all, you know, considering you’ve been sitting here all night crying over some asshole who never deserved you. But I need you to know that I love you. I think I’ve always loved you.” Your eyes widened at his confession. You’d been expecting him to say he was repulsed by you, not that he was in love with you. You opened your mouth to speak, but no words came out.

“I don’t know what to say…” you trailed off. You’d never really thought of him as more than just your best friend. Not until a few minutes ago when you realized you liked the comfort of his touch a little too much. But that was just the sadness talking, right? You glanced over at him, his eyes met yours, pleading with you to say something. Anything. “Jiyong. I- I can’t right now.”

He closed his eyes, hiding the million emotions swirling in his mind at your rejection. “Why not?” You almost didn’t hear the question, he whispered it so quietly and your heart broke for him. You hadn’t seen him so defeated since he’d made his grand comeback and you hated to be the cause of his pain. “I just can’t. You’re my best friend, I just got dumped. I’m in no condition to know what I’m feeling right now. I just need some time.”

He was off the couch before the words had even finished falling out of your mouth. Rejection had never come easy from Jiyong, stemming from years of having to proof himself. He never thought you’d ever reject him. “I have to go.” He made his way to the door in three long strides and before you could even process what had happened he was gone. Fuck.

Desperate for a do over, you grabbed your phone, calling him. “Ji, please.” You begged, willing yourself not to cry as you heard him pick up the call. “I need time too, ok?” His voice was broken up by the wind. “Time for what?” It was stupid to ask, you knew that. “To get over you.” The phone clicked and Jiyong was gone. How had everything gone to shit so quickly? You needed to fix this, you just weren’t sure how.

Tag list: @wcnderlnds @alosss-blog @sooyasya @dprvivi

[rottenherbs]

Off The Pitch (pt.2) // F.W x Potter!Reader

Request: hi, could I request part 2 for the "off the pitch" fic?

Summary: After the big game, energy rose in you and Fred. His inquiry about taking you to hogsmeade was coming up — how would you two spend your time? 

Word count: 1.1k

Authors note: this honestly takes place IMMEDIATELY after the first chapter hehehehe. I hope you enjoy. 

[masterlist]

Much love, Saige

———

Leaving the field, you watched the students all disperse. Students taking their celebrations to their common rooms, happy for the weekend to start. The energy of Gryffindors win was settled in everyone’s mind, the house cup was secured and everyone on the team could breathe a little easier after today. 

With only a few more weeks in the school year, your new anxieties about final exams were overthrown by the plans made for later tonight 

You and Fred were going to honeydukes. Together.  As a date. 

Each thought circulated your mind repetitively. Walking towards the witches changing tent, you dared not turn and look back, knowing if you made eye contact with Fred it would only make your heart race more. 

You loved the idea of finally spending time with him romantically, but you couldn’t lie to yourself. You felt like throwing up from anxiety. Moreover just the feelings of your own insecurities, but of the act of fulfilling your silly school girl dreams.

 It was way easier to lay in your bed and fantasize about what his hands would feel like in yours. What it would be like to meet up for breakfast, to study and get distracted together. To spend the night in each other's dorms. What his laundry smelt like. 

It was frivolous and innocent thoughts, but you hated the idea of messing it up. What if you did something awkward… something stupid.

Stripping yourself from your quidditch robes, you stood in the shared showers, basking in the warm water, letting it cascade over your face. The sound of the other female gryffindor players filled the air as they celebrated in cheers; the energy of the tent was electric. You couldn’t help but smile into your hands, taking in the moment for what it was. 

After a short period, you rinsed off the final suds and stepped out of the shower, wrapping yourself in a golden towel. Little droplets hitting the floor behind you as you walked to your locker. A pang hit your chest almost taking the air out of your lungs when you realized all you brought was a sloppy pair of sweats and a tousled sweatshirt. It wasn’t exactly date material, but you had no choice. 

Letting out a defeated sigh, you pulled at your towel and dried off your body, tugging the clothes lazily over your head and feet. Looking down at yourself you smirked, realizing the very sweatshirt was a hand me down from Fred, his old quidditch hoodie he got in your third year that he quickly grew out of. Suddenly feeling a rush of relief, you spun your wand around your head drying your hair instantly, noticing how long you must have taken to get ready. 

“Godrick, he’s probably been ready for ages.” You mumbled to yourself, slamming the locker door shut and straightening out your attire once more. Closing your eyes and collecting your thoughts, you meditated momentarily before stepping out. 

He is the same boy you’ve been friends with for years. Nothing has changed. Just… have a good time. 

Amping yourself up, you stepped out of the changing tent, eyes searching around the grounds, no one in sight. 

“Thought I left eh?” Fred inquired, his body leaning lazily against a tree just behind you. You jumped slightly, the sound of his voice simultaneously scared you and brought you peace. 

“Come on, you’ve taken long enough-“ he laughed, pushing himself off of the tree and over to you. Laughing back, you just smiled and shook your head. “Let’s have some fun.” His head nudged over to the path, waiting for you to join him. 

“I had to spend all that time getting pretty for you eh?” You laughed walking shoulder to shoulder with him. Your eyes darted down, unable to calm your racing mind. 

“Pa-lease” Fred joked, bumping into you slightly. “I’m just grateful you’re wearing my favorite hoodie.” Fred chuffed, coughing slightly as he cleared the air. “I love seeing it on you.” He smiled up to the sky, his own heart racing just as fast as yours. 

“It’s my favorite too.” You mumbled, finally feeling more confident in your voice

Both of you joked about the game, simultaneously happy to divert the conversation slightly to a more neutral topic.  Both of you couldn’t tell how anxious the other was, both shroud in your own cloud of judgment to see the other was nervous. 

Arriving at the crest of hogsmeade, you both rivaled at the opportunities ahead of you. 

“Let’s go to-“ you started, turning to face Fred. At the same time, he turned to face you interrupting your sentence. 

 “Where do you-“ He stopped, laughing. You quickly stopped and blushed, turning to face the small village. 

“You go first.” You chuckled, covering your mouth playfully waiting to hear his voice. 

“Why don’t we get something to eat? I may have picked up a serious appetite fighting those slytherin losers.” Fred jokingly boasted. He lifted his arms to flex, moving to show off the brutal black eye that had been forming over the past hour. You rolled your eyes, nodding your head. 

“Alright tough guy let’s go.” You motioned forward, hoping he would set the way. Instead he took you by surprise, holding out his own hand in hopes that you would grab it. Your eyes widened at his gesture, taken aback for a second, stuck in time. 

“Come on, let’s go.” He shook it lightly in the air, smiling at you waiting for you to grab it. His posture was firm, yet flirtatious, cocking his head to the side as he waited. You sucked your teeth slightly, rolling your eyes as you grabbed his hand. You hoped your reaction showed more coolheaded than you truly felt, your hands almost instantly feeling clammy as you grabbed his outstretched hand. 

Fred could feel your hand heat up in his, squeezing it softly as you both walked down the path. Luckily for his height, he could look down at you momentarily without you noticing. Checking in to see if you were still comfortable and having a good time. He watched as your eyes stayed firmly to your side, looking around at the buildings and people as you passed. Mentally chuckling to himself that you seemed to be avoiding his gaze. 

He was undeniably, absolutely, and unequivocally smitten by you. 

[justanothermemestrider]

Nothing Ever Stays Dead - Part 7

Sgt Gadriel x Childhood Friend OC

Woooooweeeeee babes. Looks like our favourite couple is finally catching a break. Or are they?

Blood and gore under the cut, as well as loads of general 40kness. Apologies for spelling or grammar errors.

If this is your first time here, welcome! If you like the look of this fic but aren't caught up, check out the master list here to see all the parts I've done so far :)

Otherwise, thanks for reading and hope you enjoy!

Gadriel is sure he's lost consciousness at least twice now. This time, rather than spur him back to life with yet another blow to his wounds, Severus allows him to awake on his own. Gadriel's eyes are heavy. His vision, a swirling mess of black and white spots. When the haze fades enough for him to actually see, he finds a a deep, rippling pool of blood at his feet.

The poison still hasn't worn off. Even after... Throne, how long has it been? An hour? A day?

"Hey! Angel!"

Gadriel raises his eyes.

"There you go," Severus smirks. "Stay with me, now. We're not even halfway done yet."

The slaver flicks his right wrist- the mechanical one. The metal joint clanks with the movement, and several, large droplets of blood are sent flying off its pointed knuckles.

"You know," Severus muses. "I'm thinkin' maybe I don't give you to the Drukhari after all. I'm thinkin' maybe I'll just bleed you like a pig, then strip you for parts. You angels got a lot of fun things going on under the hood; things that I bet'll sell real nice on the black market."

He flicks Gadriel's chest with his forefinger. Gadriel's mind is so lost amidst its agony, he doesn't even feel it.

"I mean, you've got what; two supercharged hearts and three superlarge lungs? A layer of subdermal armour as thick as steel and the literal progenoids of a demi-god jammed up in your neck? You're priceless, really! Still a pretentious little shit, of course. But a priceless one at that!"

Vaguely, Gadriel wonders what the dark eldar wyche must think of all this. He'd expected her to argue, or even just react. But when Gadriel casts his eyes to where she's standing at the back of the...

She's gone.

Gone? But where? Did she get bored? Have other duties to attend? Prisoners of her own to torture, perhaps?

Wait. Wait. He remembers something. A feeling, an idea. Formed ages ago, before blood loss and shock had vegetated his brain.

"Mmm. Yeah. Tell me, how's that been working out for you?"

"Not great. But soon, I expect that to change."

"Oh? And how do you figure that?"

"You'll see... "

I'd been waiting, Gadriel realises. Waiting for her to leave. And now she's gone. That means I can...

As if on cue, acidic saliva stings the back of his tongue.

"What else you got?" Severus continues to ramble. "You got a rib plate instead of cage? Surely that will go for something. Oh! And all those little bits of tech that hook you into your armour. Now, to the right people, those will go for bags!"

Dropping his chin to his chest, Gadriel mutters something unintelligible.

"Sorry?" Severus says. "Did you say something?"

Again, Gadriel murmurs. But again, no words are discernable.

Scowling, Severus closes in on Gadriel, turning his ear towards the space marine's face. "Speak up, damn you. Use your words."

"I said," Gadriel mutters. "That you forgot one."

"One of what?"

"One of the organs that seperates a space marine from a human."

Avarice ignites within Severus' black, soulless eyes. "Well, go on, then!" he demands. "Tell me!"

Now, finally, Gadriel raises his head. "It's called Betcher's gland," he says. His voice is little more than a hoarse, croaking whisper.

"Betcher's gland, huh?" Severus says. "Haven't heard of that one. What is it?"

Gadriel locks eyes with the slaver. He licks his lips. "It allows us to spit acid."

As he'd suspected, Severus is slow on the uptake. For all his cruel behaviour and love of technical jargon, the bastard is about as clever as he is brave. That gives Gadriel plenty of time to work up a glob of saliva large enough to hoick into the man's face. It lands on his left eyebrow.

Initially, Severus recoils in surprise and disgust. But before the slaver can curse Gadriel or punish him for his slight, the acid begins its grisly work.

Severus' eyebrow evaporates, the flesh beneath it popping and hissing as it retreats from his skull like melting plastic. His brow bone kisses the open air, then blacken and turns to gluggy, carbon ash. An acidic droplet lands in the centre of his left eye. The entire thing pops like an infected cyst.

Severus drops to the floor. Limbs locked up, mouth ripped open in a terrible scream. He claws at his melting face, but that only spreads the acid to his hands. The fingers of his alien hand remain mostly intact. His organic ones, meanwhile, are stripped to the bone in seconds.

Gadriel watches the man writhe and wail at his feet with half a smile- he's too exhausted to laugh; the exertion of it might just make him pass out again. But Throne dammit if he's not enjoying seeing this bastard is so much agony.

If this is where he is to die, there are few sights he'd rather be seeing. Well, in truth, there's only one.

If it can't be Ellie's face, let it be the face of her tormentor as it's melted off with acid.

Gadriel smirks to himself. Twisted as it is, there's a lot of romance in that. He appreciates it. Surprising how much he appreciates it. Surprising he even remembers what romance is, after everything he-

Throne. I'm loosing it. Can't keep my thoughts straight.

Must be the blood loss. Catching up with him.

How did it take in the end...

Can't see Severus anymore. Just black. Black and screaming. Blood and steel.

How long has he been here? An hour? A day?

Gadriel doesn't know. He doesn't...

"Gadriel!"

That voice...

It's her.

Ellie.

His Ellie.

Gadriel's smile widens a little. How kind of his mind to flash her memory before him as he dies. It would've been nice, however, to have seen her face one last time.

"Gadriel! Can you hear me? Open your eyes, darling. Please, open your eyes."

Gadriel can't. He knows he can't. He tries- how could he not try for her? But his body, his mind, they are lightyears away. He doesn't even feel the pain anymore.

I'm sorry Ellie, he would tell her if he still had a voice. I'm sorry to abandon you again.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"Gadriel!" Ellicent cries. "Gadriel, can you hear me?"

He doesn't look up. Doesn't even move. His head is entirely limp in her hand. Blood is literally lapping at the sole of her boot. His skin is as grey and clammy as a corpse.

"Open your eyes, darling." Ellicent's voice is meek with tears. "Please, open your eyes."

Nothing. Still nothing.

Oh Emperor, please. Please no. Please don't do this. Not again.

Thundering footsteps behind her. Ellicent looks over her shoulder in time to see Titus enter the room. His helm moves sharply between her and Gadriel. "Step aside," he says. Though it is an order, his voice is surprisingly soft. It's enough to coax Ellicent away from Gadriel and do as the Ultramarine says.

Titus exchanges his bolter for his power sword, activating the weapon with a plasmic whine. With one clean slash, he severs Gadriel's chains.

Gadriel collapses to the floor. The pool of blood beneath him splashes up his front. He lands on his knees, slouches forwards. Both hands clutch at his right side and terrible scream tears through his entire body.

Ellicent drops to her knees in front of him. Grabs his tear-streaked face and presses her forehead to his. "Gadriel. Darling, look at me."

He's trembling in her grasp. His breath, barely more than short ragged gasps. But he's alive. He's awake. And at the sound of her voice, he even manages to lift his head a little.

"... E... Ellie..."

Ellicent chokes on a sob. "Yeah. It's me." Throwing her arm around his neck, she hugs him tight.

Gadriel doesn't have the strength the speak. Nor to lift his arms to return her embrace. Even so, he manages to reply by nuzzling his face into her neck.

Weeping openly now, Ellicent kisses his cheek. "I know," she murmurs. "I'm here. I've got you."

To her left, ceramite clangs against the floor. "Can you walk, brother?" Titus asks, crouching beside Gadriel.

Without pulling away from Ellicent, Gadriel turns his head towards the other space marine. "I..." He's cut off by a grimace, followed by a vicious bout of wracking coughs. Titus touches his shoulder. "I'll take that as a no." Sheathing his power sword at his back, he carefully takes Gadriel's arm and slings it over his neck. Ellicent, taking her cue, gives Gadriel one last kiss on the cheek before releasing him and scampering out of the way.

Titus hauls Gadriel onto his feet with a grunt, putting an arm around his waist. Gadriel cries out with the movement and sags heavily against his armoured brother. Titus, however, holds him up with relative ease. Letting Gadriel's arm hang loose around his neck for a moment, he reaches for his hip. Ellicent notices another holster, from which he extracts a weapon. Small, thick and glowing a bright, humming blue.

A plasma pistol.

"Have you used one of these before?" Titus asks her.

Ellicent nods.

He seems to stare at the side arm for a second. Then, he offers it to her. "Take point," he says. Then, in a tone that's slightly softer:

"Keep us safe."

Ellicent is taken off guard. His allowing her to guide him through the ship is one thing, but to offer her a weapon? That's-

Cut it out, Ellicent snaps at herself. No time for that right now.

She takes the weapon from Titus. It's weighty, but we'll balanced. The fact it's projectiles are energy, too, should make its recoil easy to handle despite her single arm.

Looking back up at Titus, Ellicent nods.

"You've got it," she tells him.

Titus returns her nod. Then, he touches the side of his helm. "Squad Talasa, this is Titus. I've got the sergeant. He is alive, but badly wounded. Have an Apothecary on standby to receive him."

A pause.

"Affirmative. Broadcasting my locus now. Inform me when you are two minutes out. Titus out."

He drops his hand from his helm.

"Is that our rescue?" Ellicent asks.

"It is mine and Gadriel's, yes."

His tone is terse, pointed. Thought Ellicent feels her hackles rise, she keeps her own emotions on a leash. "Fair enough," she answers.

Turning away from the pair of space marines now, she steps towards the door. As she does, her metal foot clinks against something. She glances down. Her eyes widen at what she finds.

It's an arm. A bionic arm. Attached to the shoulder of a human man lying on his back. Half his face is gone. Melted, as if by acid. Even so, Ellicent would recognise him anywhere.

Severus.

She crouches beside him. His mouth is agape, but no sound comes out. His left eye is a watery puddle within his skull, and the flesh of that entire side of his face is entirely eaten away. Only bone remains. And even that is pot-holed and blackened. But his chest is moving. Breath still wheezing in and out of his throat. His one good eye also tilts towards her.

A chill runs through Ellicent's body. It is not, however, from fear. "I knew it was you," she murmurs. "If there was one thing you hated more than the idea of me escaping, it was the idea of my being saved."

Severus says nothing. Just wheezes at her. The contempt in his remaining eye, however, is palpable.

"Who is that?"

Ellicent turns to see Titus looking at her from over his shoulder.

Ellicent glances back at Severus. At his still-melting face. Gadriel must've spat on him; it's the only explanation she can think of. If that is the case, then the acid isn't anywhere near done with him yet. Another few minutes, and he'll be either dead or totally vegetated. The thought brings a smile to her lips.

"Dunno," she says to Titus. "Some kinda serf, maybe. He's too far gone though. Not worth saving."

"Perhaps we should give him the Emperor's Mercy, then."

Eyes still on Severus, Ellicent shakes her head. "No," she says. "No, we don't have time. Besides, the gunshot would alert every xenos still here to our location." She gets to her feet. Severus follows her with his eye. She could be mistaken, but she swears she sees a flicker of pleading somewhere behind it.

Ellicent curls her upper lip in disgust. Then, without a second glance, she turns her back on him.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"Where are we right now, in relation to the ship's outer hull?" Titus asks.

Ellicent clears the next hallway, sweeping the sights of her plasma pistol across it. Nothing.

By the Emperor, Titus has really aired this place out. "Far," she answers his question. "We're basically in the belly, right now." She looks at him from over her shoulder.

"Can you get us closer? To the outer hull, I mean?"

"Sure," Ellicent replies. "We keep moving down, we'll hit utility. Only walls thinner than those are the hangars."

Titus gives an affirmative grunt. "Take us there."

"Can I ask why?"

"You may. But I'll not be telling you."

Ellicent just smirks at that. Irritating as Titus' continued mistrust of her is, she understands it. And with him being the only one of the two of them who can carry Gadriel, she's not about to antagonise him, either.

With every second that passes, her beloved's condition grows more and more dire. He's slipped out of consciousness again, head lolling against his chest as Titus drags him along. Ellicent has to suppress the urge to go to him. To grab his face and scream at him to wake up.

Stay focused. The best way you can help him is to stay focused.

As they leave the torture chambers behind, the interior's architecture begins to change. Colours shift from black to grey. The rib-like structures lining the walls gain hard, mechanical edges, and the lighting gets significantly brighter. All are signs that they've finally reached the ship's utility levels. Means they're not far now.

It also means they start encountering the enemy.

Titus never made it down here. As such, the Dark Eldar force hasn't been thinned. When they hear the clang of Titus' ceramite and smell the stench of Gadriel's poisoned, thinned blood, they come swarming like flies. But most of the warriors here carry swords and knives. And Ellicent's fire is as ruthless as it is accurate. Alien heads, hearts and throats all explode under the glare of her plasma pistol. Soon, their wake is littered with charred and decapitated corpses.

In Ellicent's hand, the plasma pistol vibrates like an anxious heart. Its grip is becoming warm. The blue light from its chamber taking longer and longer to dissipate after every shot. She keeps this up any longer and the damned thing is gonna explode in her hand.

"Titus!" she shouts over her shoulder. "How far away is your rescue!"

"That depends," the Ultramarine booms. "How far are we from cargo?"

"This is utility!"

"In that case: two minutes."

"Thank the Emperor," Ellicent breathes.

At the next curve in the hall, Titus sets Gadriel down. He draws his bolter, aiming it straight down the corridor ahead. Ellicent, meanwhile, covers their rear. She glances at Gadriel. Throne, he looks like a corpse. Again, the urge to drop to her knees at his side threatens to overwhelm her. But again, Ellicent makes herself suppress it.

"The hell have we stopped for, Titus?" she hisses.

Titus' reply couldn't have been shorter or more curt. "Rescue."

Ellicent looks at Gadriel again. Her heart rages.

"We're in the middle of a Throne-damned hallway," she growls. "I can hear the xenos getting-"

"We hold this position," Titus says.

"Why the f-"

"Trust me, Ellie."

That makes Ellicent pause.

He knows my name; he used it. Not just my name, but the one Gadriel gave me.

Before she can process the implications of that fact, Titus is shouting at her. "Contact! Both sides!"

Ellicent blinks her head clear. Lifts her plasma pistol and stares down its barrel. It's just as the Ultramarine had said. Drukhari. Dozens of them. Sprinting down the hall with blades in hand.

Ellicent sets her jaw; aims and open fires.

At first, she manages well. The hallway is long, with very little cover. It creates a bottleneck; a funnel, that forces the xenos straight into her line of sight. Means Ellicent rarely misses. And every shot that lands is a killshot. But like a storm rolling over a hill, inch by inch the Drukhari start closing in. Ellicent can't keep up. Worse, the plasma pistol is starting to overheat. Won't be long until it's too hot for her to hold.

Heart pounding, she glances behind her. "Titus! Where the fuck is your rescue?!"

Her voice is almost entirely drowned out by the roar of his bolter fire. Somehow, though, Titus hears her anyway.

"Any moment now! " he bellows. "Hold fast!"

"Emperor save me," Ellicent scowls.

A shriek at her front whips her back around. A Drukhari- a wyche- is mere metres from her now. Ellicent raises her pistol, pulls the trigger-

The weapon shudders, spitting blue sparks from its chamber.

It's overheating. About to blow. Shit!

The wyche cocks back her sword arm. A cackling, sadistic grin contorts her thin, scarred lips.

Ellicent meets it with a snarl as she tosses the melting-down plasma pistol at the bitch's face.

It detonates like a shock grenade. Charging the air, flooding it with the stink of ozone and electricity. The wyche tumbles backwards, her head completely vaporised. She didn't even get the chance to scream.

But she isn't the last. More are coming. And Ellicent just lost her only weapon.

"Titus!" she screams. "I know you said to trust you. But-"

The next sentence dies on her lips as the wall to her left explodes.

The air ignites with fire and shrapnel. Swearing, Ellicent drops to the floor and covers the back of her head. Gale-force winds whip through the hole, howling like a thousand banshees, threatening to grab Ellicent and tear her out of the ship. The sudden change in air pressure make her ears pop and throb.

Ellicent squints through streaming, dust-filled eyes. Searching for Titus; for Gadriel; for anyone.

She can hear ceramite clanking, bolters firing-

Bolters. Plural.

Ellicent wipes her eyes on her forearm. Through the haze, she manages to make out Titus, but with him are two figures also clad in Ultramarine armour. On the other side of the hole in the wall, she catches a glimpse of a ship's open door.

A Thunderhawk, she realises. This is... This is our rescue.

Staggering to her feet, she hunts for Gadriel. There he is, slung between the two new marines while Titus covers them. Without a second thought, Ellicent sprints towards the blast hole. Just as she'd suspected, a Thunderhawk is hovering outside with its backdoor lowered and a squad of Astartes braced inside.

Ellicent stands aside as the pair carrying Gadriel's guide him towards it. Her heart skips a beat as they step outside, but the Thunderhawk is so close they barely even have to jump.

She finds Titus. Bolter still in hand, he goes to make his jump next. When he sees Ellicent, though, he suddenly stops.

"Go!" he shouts at her.

Yet again, the order utterly surprises her. But she doesn't argue with him. Steeling her nerves, Ellicent clambers to the edge of the breach, sets her toes on its edge. Before she can think twice, she jumps. Landing hard on the Thunderhawk's deck, rolling over her side and skidding to a halt. Titus leaps after her. His landing makes the entire ship shake. The moment his boots touch the floor, the Thunderhawk is gone. Tearing away from the gouge it had blasted into the Dark Star's side, its rear doors clamping shut. Ellicent's ears pop again. Her skin burns in the absence of the roaring wind. She has so many questions: who these space marines are, how they get here, how in the hell Titus had managed to coordinate such a daring, dangerous maneuver. But right now, such things are secondary concerns. Right now there's on one thing she can think about.

Gadriel.

He's laid out in the centre of the floor, flat on his back eyes still shut. Ignoring the two enormous warriors already looming over him, Ellicent shoves her way to his side. She drops to her knees. Crawls up to his head and jabs her fingers into his neck.

"Come on," she whispers. "Come on. Don't do this to me."

Her heart stammers. Pulses: a pair of them. One for each of his hearts. Both as rapid as they are weak.

Ellicent chokes on the lump that's formed in her throat.

A large hand grabs her shoulder. She looks up to see it belongs to Titus.

"Move aside," he says. "The Apothecary needs space to work."

Numbly, Ellicent does as she's told. Watching through watering eyes as her spot beside Gadriel is taken by yet another Ultramarine. He has his back to her, meaning she cannot see what he's doing. But she can imagine it. Taking Gadriel's bio readings. Injecting him with adrenaline, stimulants and pain suppressants, then pumping his veins full of blood-replacement fluids. Trying to keep his hearts beating, his lungs breathing, until they reach wherever it is they're going.

Walking backwards until her back finds a wall, Ellicent slides down to the floor. She hugs her legs, drops her chin on her knees. Tears are streaming down her face, but she hasn't the energy left to cry.

All she can do pray.

Please, Gadriel, she thinks. You promised you wouldn't abandon me again. You promised.

You promised.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Home stretch now, team. Almost time to see if happy endings truly are possible in the 41st Millennium...

Till then, stay safe out there xoxo

Taglist: @solspina @beckyninja @egrets-not-regrets @wolf-feathers12 @jaghatai-khock @lemon-russ @moodymisty @hatsubara-8chan @nereidof40k @yanagikou @fyxestroll @yurihasurunbara @lylakoi @justfreakynothingelse

[tax-ed-ea-taxus]

Superbat fic ideas

clark is the reluctant one and bruce wants to move fast, they've been working together for however long and bruce realizes he's been in love with clark and wants to dive head first into an official relationship, clark doesn't want to ruin the friendship or get in the way of superhero business or affect the kids and his relationship with them yada yada

Batfam assumes clark and bruce are together and married (dick makes this assumption, calls clark uncle clark and bruce and clark never correct him or think anything of it) shenanigans/misunderstandings ensue

superbat quiet uptown inspired, “if i could spare his life, if i could trade his life for mine, he'd be standing here right now and you would smile and that would be enough” clark feeling guilty about being off world when jay dies/bruce projecting blame onto clark since he feels guilty for jason dying (canon-divergent? idk what clarks involvement or where his was during jays death is)

COWBOY CLARK KENT or farmer or ranch hand or whatever they do in Kansas but Clark needs to be in the getup. No capes au? If ANYTHING Clark at least needs a pretty belt buckle so Bruce can lick it and grind on it. trans bruce bc duh

last five years au (can you tell i really like musicals?)

the kents fucking hate bruce? he's trying his hardest to appeal to them but he doesn't have a lot of practice with impressing partners parents (Ra's was impressed with him being an excellent fighter and socialites are impressed by his money and looks) he especially doesn't have experience impressing people as bruce. but they straight up Hate him and think clark should break up with him (they dont say it outright) and i think clark should notice and be upset with his parents about it. i want premium honest to god angst about the kents not liking bruce for whatever reasons and it putting a strain their relationship with clark and causes bruce to be more distant with clark to make his parents happy and in his mind fix their relationship. happy ending ig with the kents and bruce coming to an understanding but mayhaps bruce still feels like they're only being nice for clarks sake

[legalmente-loca]

Hii! Idk if you take requests, but my idea is witch!user x Sam (or anyone but Sam preferably). The idea is that user is Rowena’s daughter, and she basically forbid user from dating Sam, and user didn’t want to disobey her mom, so she didn’t date Sam. But Sam got cursed on a hunt by a witch, making him lust for user. They’re in a motel, and user is trying to find some spell to fix Sam in their spell book.. when Sam can’t hold back anymore. Things go from there, it’s smut, yes. Also if you could include a choking kink (u don’t have to if ur uncomfortable.)

Sorry for the long msg, ty for reading if you did and ty if you decide to make this fic! Love your fics sm!

Sex Spell

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Witch!Female Reader

Summary: You walked away from him because of your mother, his brother will be the one who unites you again... And a spell.

Word Count: 2,457

Tags/Warnings: 18+, smut, rough sex, desesperate Sam, sex pollen, choking kink

loca's notes: Hello and sorry for the delay. My bedroom is being redecorated and I can't sleep there, so my sanctuary is unavailable.

You loved him… You really did…

That’s why you had to let him go. Sam made you laugh, told you his secrets, and shared his feelings in the same way you felt safe to do the same. Sam was good. A boy who had made difficult decisions, but good at the end of the line. And in a world where that’s so hard to find, maybe it was that part of him that you liked best. You were a witch after all, your world was different from many others. The hunters were chasing you even though you had never hurt anyone. But being Rowena MacLeod’s daughter made you a target for many.

A part of you hated your mother. After all, she was the one who would have banned you from seeing Sam, noting that you were getting along too well and that it wasn’t a simple business relationship.

“But, mom, I love him!”

She had looked at you with slight surprise and approached you slowly.

“Oh, honey… There will be other men you’ll love and whose hearts you’ll break.” He touched the tip of your nose with his finger. “As long as he’s not a hunter or a Winchester, I’ll let you do whatever you want with them, my little dove.”

And that had been the end of the conversation. Everything with her was like that. You argued, but she would always be the one who was right and had the last word.

Your heart felt loneliness in the face of that forbidden love, but what else could you do that would not involve disobeying your mother’s order?

But it seems that one call was enough to get you out of the way.

Dean was that call, saying they were on a case where a witch was involved. They had not been able to hunt her because she cast a spell on Sam. Dean couldn’t explain Sam’s condition to you, so you quickly moved to his hotel room with a bag hanging from your shoulder.

“Dean.”

He looked back at you and sighed in relief.

“Hey, you’re here.”

“Tell me what happened.”

“I left him with her for a few minutes and then he started acting… Strange.”

“Strange in what way?”

He sighed and placed his hands on his hips.

“Look out for yourself. I will go consult with other hunters.”

He patted your arm before getting into his car and driving away. You looked at the door and mentally prepared yourself for what would follow. You hadn’t seen him in a long time. You opened it and stepped inside, closing it behind you, sealing it.

And there it was… Your forbidden love…

He had his back to you, his elbows on his knees as he sat on the edge of the bed. The muscles of his back showed through his shirt. He hadn’t heard you arrive, too absorbed in his pain.

“Sammy…”

He raised his head and turned to look at you.

“Darlin’…”

He stood up and started to approach you, but something stopped him. It was a pain in his belly, and he brought an arm around your torso, writhing in place. You approached him to help him, but he stopped you with a hand in front of you.

“No… Don’t come any closer.” His forehead was sweaty, his vision seemed unfocused, and his attention was everywhere.

“What do you feel?”

“You don’t want to know…”

His fingers and toes tingled at your presence and he could barely look you in the eyes.

“Come on, Sammy, I need to know your symptoms and see what I can do.”

He sat back down on the bed, his gaze on the floor, avoiding you.

“It’s kind of embarrassing.” He tried to laugh, but another wave of pain passed through his body, making him gasp.

“Spells usually are.” You sat in a chair that was next to the table.

“I… I feel… Hot. Very hot.”

The pain in his belly was such that he found himself hunched over, his mind flashing through images of you naked in provocative poses.

“You mean temperature?”

“No, I mean…” He looked up at you, but quickly closed his eyes and shook his head. “I mean another kind of hot.”

“Oh…”

You understood and left your bag on the floor. You began to search through the books.

“I told you. Embarrassing.”

“No, it’s okay. I just… I didn’t expect it.”

You pulled out a book and started flipping through it.

“It have a solution?”

“Every spell has a solution. The problem is that the witch who did this to you is probably a love witch.”

“Love witch? Are you kidding?”

He was trying to keep the conversation going because he couldn’t stop thinking about jumping on you.

“The reason why you feel such a strong emotion is because its creator is knowledgeable in the matter.” You quickly read a paragraph before shaking your head and continuing to browse. “Only a love witch can make you feel that way with that intensity.”

“Well, the reason we were looking for her was because she cast a spell on a man who committed suicide,” he groaned lowly, pursing his lips. “And in his farewell letter he says that he did it in the name of love. And we found a spell bag in his apartment.”

“Yes, love can be… Complicated.” You cleared your throat and continued searching.

He looked up at you and felt a thick liquid wetting his boxers even more.

“So… Let’s talk about the elephant in the room?”

You looked up briefly, two fingers playing with the page, before looking down again.

“Does Rowena know you’re here?” He asked.

“If that were the case, she would have locked myself in my room and killed you or placed a worse spell on you.”

He nodded his head and couldn’t help but scan your body with his gaze. It was as if his vision had sharpened only on your body, as if he couldn’t take it off of you.

“I can’t cure you myself.” You said, returning to the professional topic. “As it is a complex spell, I need an equally complex counterspell.”

“And it says something there?” He pointed to the book.

“Nothing for you for now.”

You continued reading. You didn’t know how much time I had. He had probably cast a spell on him so that he would suffer for an exact amount of time before meeting his death.

“You never spoke to me again.” He said suddenly.

You sighed and shook your head.

“I know.”

“Was it because of your mother or something else?” When he noticed that you were focused on the book on your lap, he said your name again. “C’mon, look at me.” You set the book aside, finally looking at him. “I need to know.”

“You know it was because of my mother. “She never approved of what happened between us.”

“You could have told me instead of disappearing.”

“I know you, Sam, and I know you would have looked for a way for us to be together. And that would only have caused her to murder you along with your brother.”

He got up and started walking in circles. His boxers were tight on him and the sound of your voice made him want to arch his back like a cat.

“At least I would have known you wanted to stay away from me.”

“You know that’s not true.” You got up. “I loved you, Sammy, and that’s why I had to stay away.”

He ran his gaze over your body again. He bit back a moan, the knot in his stomach tightening even more. His eyes were wild, filled with lust that you could sense emanating from him.

“How are you feeling?”

“Worse since you’ve been here.”

“Let me consult it.”

You turned your back on him and started flipping through the book. Sam doesn’t know how, but he caught the scent of your hair and that made him moan quietly, so quietly that you didn’t hear him, absorbed in your book. He started walking towards you, one step in front of the other. The fingers of his hand tensed and relaxed. The lust he felt was inexplicable, something from another world. It was painful, but with you it was just intense. He wanted to touch you, run his hands over your body, kiss every inch of your skin and make you his until you didn’t want to leave him again.

He stopped right behind you, your figure shorter than his. He reached up and brushed your hair to the side, revealing your neck. Your actions stopped.

“Your aroma… Have you always had such a special aroma?”

“It’s the spell, Sam, not you.”

“No, you… You actually smell good.”

He inhaled your scent again, this time with his nose in your hair. Not close to it so as not to make you uncomfortable, but rubbing against it.

A shiver ran through you and you closed your eyes.

“I need you, baby…” He whispered. “I need to feel you like before again.”

“You never lost me.”

He held your shoulders and turned you around. He took a deep breath and pushed you back against the table.

“Tell me that you want this. “Please, tell me, ‘cause I can’t take it anymore.”

Your breathing came faster, the tips of your fingers tickling.

“I want it…” Hearing your confirmation, his mouth glued to his. He didn’t even give you time to breathe, his lips on yours while his tongue ran through you. His hands moved to your hips and went under your shirt. He caressed your skin with his thumbs and lifted your shirt, pulling it over your head.

“You are so beautiful.” He murmured, lowering his mouth to your neck.

He bit lightly, his body hot on yours, his movements quick, unrestrained.

You took off his shirt and tossed it to the side before wanting to kneel, but you were stopped by him.

“I don’t have time for that. I need to feel you around me now.” He unbuckled his belt and held your ass, lifting you up and carrying you to the bed, where he threw you.

“Are you sure about this?” You asked.

“Oh, baby, I’ve never wanted to do something more than right now.”

He took off his pants along with his boxers and climbed onto the bed above you. He turned you around and pulled down your pants. He left kisses on the nape of your neck, down your back until he lightly nibbled on your buttock. You moaned and moved your ass against his mouth.

“So needy.” He pulled your panties down slowly. “You shouldn’t have disappeared.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Oh, you will.”

He buried his face in your ass, licking between your legs and biting softly.

“God, Sammy…” You squirmed in the sheets.

He spat against your core and stuck a finger in, sitting back on his knees. He spanked you, his hand becoming impregnated. A big, red hand that made you itch.

“You are as beautiful as I remembered you.”

He held your buttocks and spread them, moving his hips closer to yours and slowly inserting his cock into your channel. You moaned deeply as he went deeper into you. His cock spread you open in its path and your eyes rolled back as Sam dug his nails into your skin.

“Yes, that’s it.” He laid on top of you and ran his mouth along your jaw, nibbling lightly. “Do you like it? I know you do. God, you feel so good.”

His pace was fast, desperate. That spell had only increased the desire he felt for you and he could no longer wait for his release. Meanwhile, the desire you also felt for him was probably equally if not more intense. The distance you both had been forced to carry was an ache in your heart that was being soothed in this instant.

His thrusts were excruciating and you dug your nails into the pillow beneath your cheek. Moans abandoned between your lips.

“Oh, my Goddess, I missed this.”

“Yeah?” He murmured in your ear. “I know so. Me too.”

He moved his hand up to your neck, where he squeezed lightly. Your breath came out in small amounts and your eyes rolled.

“Yeah, I still remember how much you like this.” He tightened his grip a little more and you moaned. “So good…”

His movements began to get faster and out of rhythm, his hand firmly around your neck as he placed kisses on your cheek.

“S-Sam, I’m-”

“I know, I know… Come for me, baby…”

Your body tensed as pleasure washed over you. Your breathing hitched as you continued to be held captive by Sam’s strong hand. You squeezed him tightly and he groaned, his cock being sucked inside you.

“Oh, God-”

He moaned before exploding inside you. His cum came out in spurts, seeming like it would never end. It filled you, covering you in its thick white paint. There was so much liquid that it even began to overflow and leak out of you hopelessly, dirtying the sheets under you. You even felt your belly expand and you almost regretted not having used a condom, but you were under a reaping cloud of pleasure.

When he relaxed, he slowly pulled out of you, his breath coming out panting against the side of your neck. He let go of your neck and moved his hand away before laying down next to you.

“Are you okay?” He asked as he caressed your back.

You opened your eyes tiredly and nodded your head.

“Yes, I had forgotten what that felt like.” You snuggled into Sam and he held you in his arms.

“Truly, don’t disappear like this again.”

“I won’t do it.” You traced patterns on his chest. “But we need to solve my mother’s problem.”

“We will.” He placed a kiss on your head. “I know we’ll.”

You took a deep breath and propped yourself up on one elbow, looking at him.

“By the way, how are you feeling?”

He smiled and moved the sheets over both of them.

“You know? I think the cure was sex.” You both laughed and you kissed his neck. “You think you could replicate that spell?”

“Oh, shut up.” You gently hit his chest. “We have to tell Dean.”

You moved to get up, but Sam stopped you, returning you to your spot on the bed.

“Later. Let’s enjoy this.” He murmured as he nuzzled your neck.

You stayed there, entwined in each other. You didn’t know how to solve your mother’s problem yet, but for this moment, you were together and at peace.

Sam Winchester One Shots

Sam Winchester Masterlist

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[starrihan]

Lipstick Stain (Woonhak Fic)

-> Pairing: Woonhak x afab! Reader

-> Plot: your 6 month anniversary spells surprises as your boyfriend has the perfect night set up for you

-> Genre: tooth rotting fluff, like its so sweet, Woonhak is so cutie baby i love him so much, mentions of kissing and a little kiss at the end, Jaehyun and Sungho act like his parents

-> Warnings: none (not proofread!)

-> Word Count: 1,377

-> Notes: idk where this idea came from but i wrote this in like 2 hours and in one sitting (say youe proud of me please my attention span has been nonexistent since school started). i also typed this with long nails on (theyre press ons) so literally my fingers hurt but I hope you guys enjoy this 🫶🏽😘

-> Notes pt. 2: this is my 50th post 🤧🫶🏽

༄ ༄ ༄

Even though you had been together for a little bit now, you and Woonhak were still romantically shy around each other. You guys had only kissed a handful of times, but it was always so sweet and romantic. Everyone adored your guys’ relationship, and his members were no exception. 

Here you were, at his doorstep, dressed in a cute pink dress, ready for your weekly date. When you knocked on the door, you weren’t surprised to see that Jaehyun was the one who opened it. His reaction to you dressed so cute was priceless, like a father seeing his daughter go on her first date. Granted his reaction was like this every time you and Woonhak went on a date but still, it was very endearing. 

“Woonhak! Y/N’s here!”

Upon hearing the news of your arrival, Woonhak stepped out of his room, fixing his shirt cuff, hair slicked back. You felt your jaw drop, gawking at your stunning boyfriend. Jaehyun is equally as shocked, not knowing how much more handsome Woonhak could get. Woonhak looks up, pulling a mocking face at Jaehyun but smiling when his eyes travel down to you. You’re beaming as he walks up to you, arms open to give him a hug. You let out a yelp when, instead of hugging you normally, he picks you up, spinning you before putting you down and planting a quick on your forehead. Your blush is heavy as you try to hide your face in his chest, careful not to mess up your makeup.

“Y/N! I missed you! You look so gorgeous.”

He says, pulling back to look into your eyes. Your cheeks heat up even more, blush growing deeper at his adoring compliment.

“I could say the same to you. You’re so strikingly handsome.”

The way you two were staring into each other’s eyes was enough to get Jaehyun to fangirl, pulling out his phone and taking a picture of the sweet moment. 

“You’re so embarrassing.”

Woonhak says, stomping his feet like a child throwing a tantrum, which you find so adorable. You both take your leave, walking to the restaurant nearby that Woonhak had reserved for the both of you. Today was your 6 month anniversary and he insisted he take you out somewhere nice, despite not having a lot of money. You found him so charming, how could you not? He was so sweet to you, always taking you out or just having you around. 

Upon arriving at the restaurant, the waiter led you to your table. You’re awestruck when you see the big bouquet of flowers sitting in the middle, something that Woonhak personally went out of his way to set up for you, knowing you love cute gestures like these. His smile is almost as wide as his face upon your reaction, finding your reaction so adorable. 

“Woonhak… this is so sweet. Thank you!”

You fight the urge to jump on him and hug him, sitting in your chair, that he pulled out for you, and smelling the flowers again. 

“And my favorite flowers too… you’re so perfect.”

He chuckles as he takes his seat across from you, taking your hand in his, intertwining your fingers while you look through the menus together. 

༄ ༄ ༄

At the end of the night, Woonhak walks you back to your house. Hand in hand, you guys take your time walking back, talking about anything and everything. You even stop by a small ice cream shop that’s near the restaurant you were at, indulging in the sweet treat despite having eaten dessert already. You take your time savoring the sweet, not wanting the night to end yet. Woonhak swears he can watch you eat forever, smiling never fading the entire time he’s with you. 

“Woonhak stop staring, you’re making me blush!”

You laugh as you look away, avoiding his playful yet strong gaze. He just smiles even harder, getting up from his seat to kneel in front of you, playfully continuing to watch you. He opens his mouth, indicating that he wants a bit, to which you oblige, feeding a spoonful of the strawberry ice cream into his mouth. He cutely eats the cold dessert, winking at you as you throw your head back, laughing at his antics. This truly was the perfect night.

After your ice cream detour, Woonhak takes the scenic route home, stargazing on the way back. To you, he was being oddly affectionate, in a good way. He was never one to express his feelings much through words, but he always tried for you. 

“Not even the amount of stars in the night sky could amount to how much I care about you.”

You were taken aback by his confession, smiling to yourself as you lean into his taller frame.

“You’re so verbal about your feelings today. Are you gonna tell me something crazy like that you’re going away forever or something?”

You thought your joke was funny, but Woonhak gulps, body tensing when you bring up him having to tell you something important. 

“Actually, I do have something really important to tell you.”

Now you’re worried as he stops in his tracks. You’re only a couple doors away from your house, so you tug at his arm, forcing him to continue walking. When you arrive in front of your door, you swallow the lump in your throat, preparing for the worst. Your mind is racing at a million miles a minute, worried that he’s going to break up with you. You try to calm yourself down from those thoughts, turning to face him. 

“What is it that you have to tell me?”

You tilt your head, trying your best to steel your nerves and prepare yourself for what you’re about to hear. Woonhak’s hands are sweating like crazy as he pushes loose strands of hair out of his face. 

“Y/N… we’ve been together for a bit now. First of all, I can’t believe we’ve spent 6 months together. These have been the best 6 months of my life…”

His pause has tears welling up in your eyes, afraid that your worst nightmare is coming true.

“Truthfully, I’m not very good at expressing how much I care about you with words, but I hope it's not too early to say this. I love you, Y/N…”

He closes his eyes like he's waiting for your rejection. But he is instead met with your hands cupping his cheeks, smile so big it could scare a child as a single tear falls from your eye. He panics, thinking that he scared you with his confession.

“Y/N, you're crying. I’m sorry if it was too early I didn't mean it haha–”

“I love you too, Woonhak.”

Now it's his turn to be silent as he relaxes in your hold, the biggest sigh of relief leaving his mouth as he can’t help but laugh at the situation. 

“You love me? For real?”

“Well I don’t love you for jokes. You scared me with how many pauses you took. I thought you were breaking up with me and leaving the country.”

You guys both laugh, looking into each other's eyes when you realize your hands are still on his face. You sigh lovingly, pulling him in for a short, but sweet kiss. 

“I love you so much, Kim Woonhak.” 

༄ ༄ ༄

His walk back to his dorm was spent dazed. He couldn’t believe he told you that you loved him. He couldn’t believe that you had reciprocated his feelings. He can’t wipe the stupid grin off of his face as he enters his dorm, Jaehyun and Sungho already waiting for him on the couch. 

“You finally told her, huh?”

Jaehyun smirks as he knows exactly why the younger looks so lovestruck. 

“You can tell she said it back, he has a big lipstick stain on his lips.”

Woonhak stands there, touching his lips delicately, like he’ll wipe off the lipstick if he dares touch it too much. 

“Our Woonhak has finally grown up. I’m so proud of you.”

He doesn’t even fight off Jaehyun’s hug, too much in awe to care. He finally told you how you felt, and you felt the same. That’s all that mattered. 

༄ ༄ ༄

[dragoncatprism]

Welcome to "Prism 2/3am brainrot they make instead of sleeping or actually writing cause they got too many ideas in the head"

Literally had that thought not a second ago and I missed babbling about things I like soooo much and Aventurine and Ratio are just the best to inspire

So.

Imagine.

Nous putting their gaze towards Aventurine.

I know he's not "book smart" but there are a looot of different sides of knowledge, plus the fact that he's almost completely detached from the world ??? That he doesn't care about his life and everything and everyone he loved disappeared and now he can't form meaningful relationships by fear of killing them ? His luck that is so curious but also terrible and immediately puts him apart from others ?

Also the VeriVasha angst...

Ratio, in my point of vue, did have the dream of becoming a Genius. Maybe his parents had big expectations (linking that to the name Veritas can also build looots of angst), maybe he just viewed them as perfect and like we say "Never meet your heroes", maybe he wanted to prove something... Either way, he realised that most of Genuises are truly terrible people because they are ready to make gruesome sacrifices in the name of knowledge.

And Ratio will never be gazed by Nous because he cares so much. His humanity and kindness are the things that make him so lovable but also that are hindering a "great possibility", it's Greek tragedy at this point : the hero that wants to attain their goal but the very nature of themselves is in contradiction with this goal and so they will always chase but never catch. Ratio also learned that he cared and after raging and many questions as to why, he manages to get out of this embellishment about the Genuis Society. After all, he doesn't need to be a Genius to gain knowledge, and he feels like he helps much better bringing knowledge to people instead of stealing it or weaponizing it. He considers himself a fool because for him, it's humanity at it's finest : a bit of knowledge but also silliness and care. He doesn't see himself above the others much than what is facts : he knows he's smart by many worlds standards, that he's beautiful but he doesn't think of himself as flawless or completely above others. (The people that say he does clearly haven't read the same things I read cause this man is so soft and kind and just wants to help how he can and he's also very autistic)

When Aventurine is gazed by Nous, Ratio first feels a tiny bit of jealousy -even if he isn't desperate to be recognised, he still feels envy and longing- but it's quickly, too quickly erased by a wave of worry.

He knows now some conditions to be a Genius and it terrifies him to see his partner (together or not at this point, whichever brings the most angst ooor they could have a thing on and off and Aventurine doesn't dare crossing the line by fear of losing Ratio and Ratio doesn't want to cross any boundaries) being in such a state that an Aeon that is promoting a sort of apathy and detachment of humanity

I think he would be so scared even just to lose Aventurine, he already seem so far most of tge time and this newfound recognition might be a tipping point or just the sign that he is already gone.

Nihility is scary with the nothingness but I think each Paths can be terrible and I am already trying to imagine them both following each Path and seeing what it would make them

Elation Ratio... I see you a lot, same with Destruction Aventurine cause his whole thing is protecting, but what if he decided to just destroy.

They truly have so many possibilities and I promise to myself one day I will actually write instead of babbling

It might've turned into a Ratio post pffft

I love them both so much they live in my head non stop and I love just reading sooo many theories and fic

[nilsavatar]

DAY 23 - BITING part 2

Parings: Neteyam x Fem!human

Genre/Warnings: fluff, ANGST, introspective, delicate themes (hibrid pregnacy). All characters are AGED-UP. This the sequel of the @layla2-49 request used to fullfil the promp day 23 of lunakinktober 2023

Summary: Following the unexpected pairing that occurred at the Tree of Souls, after connecting as only two Na'vi normally could, Celeste and Neteyam entertain a clandestine relationship. Several times they have discussed coming out, but the girl is too prey to her insecurities as a human to do so. It is Eywa who will decide for both of them with a disconcerting revelation: they have conceived a hybrid child.

Word Count: 4,3k

Masterlist - Request a fic

Celeste had been... different ever since Neteyam had brought her back to the human compound after collecting panopyra samples in the forest. Brighter, in a way. She visited Hometree more willingly and more often, interacting with the village women who now welcomed her with smiles and involved her in their activities whenever possible; she had discovered a particular talent for dyeing accessories the Omatikaya used to adorn their bodies with.

A soft half-smile spread across Spider’s lips as he watched her playing with a group of children on a nearby platform. They were about Tuk’s age, more or less, but already as tall as the girl, who wasn’t exactly towering herself compared to her twin brother. A genetic joke between heterozygotes. He would have lingered longer on seeing his sister finally out of the lab, out of her shell��he would have even laughed at the odd hairstyle the kids were braiding into her hair—but his gaze was drawn elsewhere. Specifically, to the Sully brothers, who were descending with long strides down the path carved into the massive tree trunk that served as a home for the entire clan, each carrying a yerik carcass over their shoulders. Another successful hunt, he thought with a twinge of envy.

How much he would have loved to prove his worth by helping sustain the People, but Spider was just a human. Not to mention Nash and Mary would have killed him if he even tried. And Celeste, especially Celeste!

Following the instructions of an elder hunter, the two young men carried their prey to a tent, where it would be skinned and butchered. When they reemerged, the brothers were playfully shoving each other and exchanging teasing remarks. Neteyam was already cleaning his arrows checking them for any damage. Amidst an “I did a cleaner kill” and a “My shot was more precise”, Spider joined the conversation with his typical warm greeting. “Back already?” “Missed us?” “Nah, I could’ve done without that skxawng face of yours.” The jab was meant as a joke, but Spider couldn’t quite hide the unease—and the faint irritation—from his tone. At least when it came to Lo’ak, they knew each other far too well. That irrational sense of protective older-brother energy was definitely misplaced.

“You’ve noticed it too, haven’t you?” “Depends on what we’re talking about.” “Teyam’s been acting strange lately.” That phrase was music to his ears, the confirmation that it wasn’t all in his head. But he decided to let his friend elaborate before sharing his concerns. He wanted evidence, not just vague conjectures. “Like what?” “I don’t know, bro. He doesn’t scold me like he usually does. He’s less uptight, whether we’re hunting or training. He smiles more, but he seems distracted a lot of the time. It’s like…” “He’s in love,” Spider finished for him. “Yeah. But you know how private he is. No one can get him to say who the girl is.” “Any idea who it might be?” “Nothing solid. Mom thinks it could be Nirat. Like her mother, she’s an excellent singer, but I don’t think that’s the kind of thing that would sway him enough to choose her as a mate.” “Mm, I agree. He’s not the type to be won over so easily. Singing is a beautiful talent, but just because it’s been decided that the next generation of leaders will be a brother-sister duo doesn’t mean Teyam’s standards for finding a strong mate to support the clan would change.” “Yeah, it can’t be Nirat, even though she’d kill for it to be her.”

Spider’s eyes drifted back to the person in question, who wasn’t even trying to hide how intently he was watching the human girl. The expression on his face was that of someone who had just put all the pieces together. “You know who it is?” “Let’s just say I have an idea. But I need confirmation.” As if some higher power had decided to fulfill his words, the decisive proof appeared before their incredulous eyes.

Nirat, dressed to the nines, with a flower tucked into her loose hair—a clear sign of her availability for courtship—made her way through the hunters to reach the future olo’eyktan. The beads adorning her ankles and wrists jingled with every step as she swayed her hips and fluttered her thick black lashes. At another time, Spider would have enjoyed the show, complete with boisterous chuckles and suggestive elbow nudges to Lo’ak, not holding back his commentary on the assertiveness of certain Na’vi women. Instead, his attention instinctively shifted back to his sister, whose expression spoke volumes.

Her lips were pressed into a deep pout, her wide, furious eyes fixed in a murderous glare at the eldest Sully. Her chest rose and fell in quick, frantic breaths, the intensity of which fogged up her mask. And then, the moment of drama. Mumbling some excuse, she got up despite the children’s protests. With a stormy expression, she left the clearing and returned to her refuge of experiments and disinfectants. But even with her head bowed, she couldn’t hide from her brother the fact that she was about to burst into tears—or from Neteyam.

The warrior brushed off the would-be suitor and moved to run after her, but Spider stopped him just in time, a hand on his torso to hold him in place. “Let her cool off. Talking to her now won’t do any good.” Neteyam opened his mouth to argue, to defend himself, but he knew his friend was right. In her current state, the girl would only push him away and retreat further into herself, buried in her stupid sense of inferiority and not belonging—even though the Great Mother herself had shown her otherwise. Gritting his teeth, his ears pinned back against his head, he looked for a moment past the human in the direction where Spider’s sister had disappeared. Then, with a sigh that deepened his already gloomy expression, he met his glare again and nodded. But before he could turn on his heel and retreat into his own bubble of frustration, Spider stopped him again. “What are your intentions with my sister?” It was pointless to evade the question, and in any case, Neteyam wasn’t the type.

Once she returned to the cold walls of the compound, Celeste did what she did best: locked herself in the lab, where the only sources of light were the plexiglass tanks and the computer monitors. One, to be precise, was on at that moment: hers. She sat there as though hiding from something, or rather someone. Someone who knew exactly where to find her. Her nerves were on edge, her suspicious eyes darting at every faint sound her feeble human ears could pick up.

Her irritated gaze flitted from the tablet in her hand to the tall figure that had just stepped across the threshold, the faint screech of the sliding door announcing his presence. Before her, in the dim room, the panopyra tank cast pale violet lights onto the young scientist’s face. Inside, the curious zooplantae drifted gracefully and hypnotically. Its presence seemingly consuming all of Celeste Socorro’s time and energy.

The supporting roots had intertwined to form a stem now, firmly anchored to the tank’s lid. From its core, several ends branched out to hold up the wide, inverted dome. Small, symmetrical dots outlined its surface, converging at the center, from which luminous tentacles extended. They now reacted to the insistent probing of mechanical fingers. At the ends of these, ultra-thin needles penetrated various points of the lively tentacles, immediately recording the data collected in the computerized system that Celeste held in her hands. Her goal? Entirely ignoring him.

The Na'vi couldn’t bring himself to break the silence immediately. He stood still, observing the scene for several long moments, trying to figure out how to approach her without making things worse. The way she moved—mechanical, precise, almost frantic—told him more than any words could. She was shaken. Hurt. She turned her back to him when Neteyam didn’t take the silent cue to leave. “I’m busy.” She was still mad. Fair enough. The warrior armed himself with his best smile, hoping to ease the tension. “I thought you might be hungry,” he said, setting the tray he had been carrying onto the table. “You’ve been in here for hours.”

Celeste felt a warm blush flood her cheeks. She bit the inside of her cheek until that familiar metallic taste of blood spread on her tongue. She wanted to set down the data pad, hug him, thank him for the thoughtful gesture, and tell him how sweet he was, but she was too angry to give in. If anything, seeing him only irritated her more. She could still picture Nirat wrapping herself around him like a jellyfish. Like the panopyra she was studying. So she asked, caustically, if he was stalking her, turning just in time to catch the hurt and disappointed look on his face.

“Yawne,” he said, all his regret poured into that single affectionate word, and guilt hit her like a punch to the gut. She knew Neteyam—his sense of loyalty, his serious and honorable nature. He wasn’t a playboy, nor someone who toyed with women for amusement. It wasn’t fitting for a leader, and more importantly, it wasn’t in his character. But she let her insecurities take over. Deep down, Celeste knew no one would approve of their relationship. It didn’t matter that the current olo’eyktan was human: Jake had an avatar; physically, he had more in common with a Na’vi than humans. And he was Toruk Makto. She had nothing to offer the clan… or Neteyam. She couldn’t become a member of the Omatikaya, and despite the tsahìk question being resolved by Kiri, young Socorro couldn’t promise him anything, least of all a family. What had been happening for months at the Tree of Souls—those strange tubular growths the roots formed at the base of her neck when they made love—meant nothing.

“Share your thoughts with me, Cel. Please.” She pressed her lips together, her shoulders rigid. “You should court Nirat,” she said curtly, trying to keep her composure. It felt like a stab to the heart. “… What?” “She’ll make an excellent mate. She’s beautiful, well-liked, and has a lovely voice that lifts spirits.” Well-liked? He wanted to ask sarcastically—Nirat was a snake. “We should tell the truth about us,” he answered instead, with that infuriatingly calm tone he knew drove her mad, though it masked a deep inner turmoil: the fear of what she might say next, words that could break his heart. “Everyone will know, and Nirat will get over it. I’m taken.” His response made the girl falter, her breathing slowed almost imperceptibly, but the fire in her eyes didn’t entirely die. “You just don’t get it, do you? I’m human, Teyam. I’ll always be out of place. Always… less. No matter what I do, I’ll never be like you. Never enough to truly belong in this world.” Neteyam took a step forward, slowly, cautiously. “You don’t need to be like us, Cel. You need to be yourself—that’s what makes you special. That’s what makes me see you, even when I look at everything else.”

Her eyes widened, startled by those loving words, which seemed to slip out before the young Na’vi could stop them. For a moment, she was speechless, her heart pounding in her chest, and he stepped closer, now only a breath away. He looked her directly in the eyes, unwavering. “I don’t know how to say this without sounding foolish,” he murmured. “I see you, Celeste. I have for a long time. When I whisper what I feel to you at the Tree of Souls, those aren’t just words said in the heat of the moment. I felt your spirit bond with mine. You’re a part of me. And when you hurt, I hurt too.”

She met his gaze, her expression pained. “But at what cost? You’re destined to lead your people. How can you do that with someone like me by your side? Even if the clan has learned to tolerate me, it doesn’t change the fact that I’m human.” The prince shook his head, his tone softening with a faint smile. “I’m not Eywa, tìyawn. I don’t know all her plans. But I know one thing. She wouldn’t have united us if our love was wrong.” Celeste swallowed, the words caught in her throat. She felt vulnerable, exposed, as though Neteyam had just torn down all the walls she had built around herself. “I… I don’t know what to say,” she admitted, her voice barely audible. “You don’t have to say anything,” he replied with a small smile. “Just don’t run away from me anymore. Please.”

A heavy silence fell between them, broken only by the faint hum of the machinery. Celeste lowered her gaze, biting her lip. Then, with hesitation that spoke of years of insecurity, she gave a small nod. “We’ll explain to them that Eywa chose you for me. We are mated before the Great Mother.” “Sure, we’ll tell them how that plant intoxicated us, and while we were… you know… the roots of the Tree of Voices somehow created a temporary kuru so we could connect. Nothing weird about that!” “Yawne,” he whispered, kneeling to press his forehead against hers, a gesture that felt more comforting than anything else. “Don’t underestimate our families. They’ll understand. Deep down, they probably always suspected this would happen—it was only a matter of time.” The scientist let out a tired smile, though doubt still flickered in her eyes. “I wish I could believe it’s that simple.” “You know you’re sexy when you’re jealous?” “Stop it, moron.” She blushed, shy but unable to suppress the warm laugh that finally broke the tension that had built up over weeks of secret moments and arguments. With that open confrontation, they accepted the challenges and joys their union would bring. Neteyam gently cupped her face, his fingers strong yet tender, brushing over her human skin with the reverence reserved for something sacred. They seemed suspended in perfect calm, and just as they were about to seal everything with a kiss, a strange sound escaped her lips. An unexpected spasm interrupted the moment as Celeste doubled over, one hand to her mouth, the other clutching her stomach. She rushed to the sink as violent retching overtook her. The young Na’vi steadied her firmly, his face etched with concern. “It must’ve been something I ate. It’s nothing,” she said between ragged breaths, trying to downplay it, but it wasn’t nothing.

In the following days, the girl continued to suffer from nausea and growing weakness. Despite her reluctance, Neteyam insisted she get visited. “I don’t want to alarm the clan or make them think there’s a problem, especially now that we’ve decided to go public,” she argued, trying to pacify him. “We need to figure out what’s happening. This has to be serious to leave you like this,” he said, his voice soft but resolute. Celeste sighed, resting a hand on her forehead. “Maybe it’s just stress. There’s no need to panic.” He shook his head, determined. “It’s not normal for you to be like this. Please, get checked out. If you won’t do it for yourself, do it for me—for Spider.” His golden eyes were filled with worry.

When her symptoms worsened, she had no choice.

The infirmary was quiet, lit only by the soft glow of lamps—a bubble of technological modernity nestled within Pandora's untamed beauty. Norm and Max worked with the scanning equipment while the girl lay on the exam table, her face pale and marked by exhaustion. For days, she had suffered from dizziness and an inexplicable heaviness. As the machine hummed softly, scanning her body, she sought comfort in Neteyam’s gaze. He knelt by her side, his fingers fidgeting nervously. Behind them stood Spider, arms crossed, his expression unreadable. Though they tried to appear calm, their eyes betrayed a growing unease.

After what felt like an eternity, Max’s eyes widened, glued to the screen in disbelief and a hint of fear. “This… this isn’t possible,” he said, his voice trembling slightly. Celeste sat up, alarmed. “What isn’t possible?” The doctor double-checked the readings, frowning. “There’s no sign of infection or poisoning. Your vital signs are stable, but…” He hesitated, glancing at Norm. “What?” she whispered. Max took a deep breath and pointed at the screen. “There’s an unusual reading… Though maybe calling it unusual isn’t accurate.” “What do you mean?” Neteyam leaned forward, his golden eyes fixed on the monitor, staring at the dark speck on the display. With another sigh, Max activated a 3D image showing a tiny, pulsating structure, barely perceptible. “You’re pregnant.”

The room fell into an oppressive, deafening silence. The patient stared at the dark speck on the monitor, unable to form a response. Her heart pounding louder than the sound of the equipment, she finally whispered, “There must be a mistake. Neteyam and I… we’re biologically incompatible.” Norm nodded slowly. “In theory, you’re right. But I’ve checked the parameters once again. There’s no mistake. All the signs are there: elevated hormones, physiological changes, and an embryonic presence. Sweetheart, it’s happened—you’re truly pregnant.”

Despite feeling her grip on his fingers tighten, Neteyam couldn’t tear his eyes away from the medical terminal. The voices around him faded into a distant echo, as though he couldn’t fully process what he was hearing and seeing. This was news no one had ever anticipated—something no one had ever considered as it was supposed to be impossible. Behind them, Spider paced back and forth, his hands buried in his dreadlocks. “No, no, no.” He shook his head, unable to accept what they were saying. “There has to be another explanation. Maybe some genetic mutation, or…” He trailed off, his voice trembling.

A whirlwind of thoughts spun through the mind of the Omatikaya prince, visions of a hazy future, each scenario more terrifying than the last, all culminating in the absence of the woman he loved. “What are we supposed to do now?” Cel… the baby. Everything felt so… uncertain. “It all depends on what you decide to do,” Norm suggested, a clear implication hanging in the air. “Terminate the pregnancy?” “… it’s the simplest option.”

Celeste’s eyes filled with tears. As much as her rational side whispered that this was the most logical and risk-free solution, she already felt a deep connection to the being growing inside her. As though she sensed there was something larger at play than just motherhood, a bond with… “Eywa,” she murmured simply. “The effect of the panopyra, our union at the Tree of Voice, this,” she wrapped her arms protectively around her stomach. “The Great Mother united us for a reason, but this child… it’s a hybrid, yawne. We don’t know what that entails, or what will happen to your health. And no one here can help us. Your technology isn’t equipped to handle these kinds of… anomalies.” His heart pounded, his mind clashing with every possibility. How could he protect his mate and their child from a fate that seemed so dangerous? “Are you asking me to—?” “No! Eywa, no. I would never ask you to do that. But… I’m terrified, okay? You’re my person. It’s my job to protect you from harm, but how can I when I don’t understand what’s happening? I had come to terms with the fact that we wouldn’t have a family of our own. And being just us was enough for me, 'cause as long as I had you, nothing else mattered. But now… the most beautiful, incredible thing in the world has happened, and I can’t even celebrate it because it might…” He couldn’t bring himself to say the word.

The tension between them grew, and at that moment, another voice broke into the room. Spider, who had been silently sitting in the corner, sprang to his feet as if struck by lightning. His face was pale and strained, his eyes swollen with horror. The news had overwhelmed him. “This… this is too much! It’s not possible!” he shouted, his voice trembling. “You… Neteyam! How the hell did this happen?! How could you let this happen?!” Her brother's words, loaded with rage and panic, hit Neteyam like a punch. His face twisted. “This is all your fault! You’re Na’vi! This child…” Celeste stood up, frightened by her brother’s outburst, and took a step forward to intervene. “Spider, calm down… it’s no one’s fault. It’s not what you think.”

But Spider couldn’t contain his anxiety. His fear drove him to act without thinking. “You don’t understand! Do you know what you’re risking? This… this baby isn’t just a symbol of an impossible union—it’s a danger to you!” he shouted, his eyes filled with terror and disillusionment. “What will carrying a Na’vi-human hybrid do to your body? How much energy will it drain from you? Have you thought about how big the fetus will get before it’s born? How will you deliver it?”

Neteyam glared back at him with equal fury, his heart pounding, his posture stiff, his face tense. But there was also a sense of helplessness constricting him because, deep down, he didn’t know how to handle the situation either. The weight of responsibility and dread was crushing him. “I didn’t choose this, Spider. But it’s happened, and we have to face it together,” he said at last, trying to keep his voice steady. Spider, crushed, looked at the future olo’eyktan with eyes filled with both anger and anguish. “I can’t accept this,” he finally said, his voice reduced to a whisper.

It was at that moment that Kiri entered the room, sensing the intensity of the argument. When she saw him so agitated, she approached him calmly. “Monkey boy,” she said, her voice soothing. “This isn’t a threat. It’s proof of how great Eywa’s power is. This child… it’s not just a mistake. It’s a sign, something that goes beyond our fears.” Spider seemed shaken but couldn’t put aside the distress gnawing at him. Neteyam, though hearing the weight of Kiri’s words, still couldn’t let go of his worry. His need to protect Celeste was all-consuming, and the idea that she might be at such great risk devastated him.

Kiri’s face was calm yet resolute. “Brother, don’t be afraid. This is the path the Great Mother has chosen for you. Her decisions are always wise, even when we cannot fully understand them.” Her voice carried the gravity of an ancient truth, and silence filled the room. Then she approached Celeste gently, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. “This isn’t just your life at stake. This creature is a manifestation of the union of two opposite worlds, worlds that have been at odds until now. It’s the beginning of something new, a path forward together. We’ve seen signs of this connection. Your child is a blessing.”

Neteyam looked at his sister with eyes full of questions, but at last, a small glimmer of hope began to grow within him. Perhaps, despite all his fears, this child had a purpose beyond what he could see. Spider, though still harboring doubts, lowered his gaze. The consternation remained, but Kiri’s intervention seemed to have, at least, partially soothed his anxieties.

“We’ll do this together,” Celeste said, extending one hand toward her mate and the other toward her twin, her look locking with theirs, filled with an intensity they had never seen before. “We’ll face this future, whatever it may bring.” Neteyam took a deep breath, gathering the courage he needed. He didn’t have all the answers yet, but deep down, he knew he would stand by her side. And maybe, in time, he could learn to embrace this destiny that seemed impossible to comprehend.

“You can’t do this alone,” Kiri concluded. “Maybe it’s time to speak with Mo’at.”